#i love the quarry so imagine my face when i saw that he joined this cast

[cerealbishh]

"My dad was an inmate. And now he's captain of Three Rock. People can change."

"Wait, that guy's your dad?"

"Mhm."

"Oh, so you're a nugget too, huh?"

[h0tb0x1nnac0ff1n]

Very excited to see your page grow ! 🤍 sorry for the long request 😣😣❕

Can i request a Daryl x fem!reader where the reader’s whole love language was cooking for people before everything went to shit? But because to the outbreak and where they ran from place to place.. she just could never make anything and because lack of ingredients which sort of kills her morale.

However, when they’re staying at Alexandria.. One day she gets one look at their pantry and is strangely super excited and very much productive for the whole afternoon. Which causes confusion among the group because “woah reader is rlly happy, wonder what’s up.” And it’s because she can finally cook the food she loved to make and it’s now time for Daryl to test-taste each and every single dish made all with her love 🤍 .

Just some wholesome fluffiness bc i personally imagine Daryl had like food made by someone for him. He deserves the best as he just eats everything up bc its made with all of our love 🤍🤍🤍

Hello!!! I think this is an amazing idea! Can I just say that I’ve found my people 🤧

Here’s to my first X Reader on here 🥂

Warning: Talks about food/ fluff/ killing walkers (normal TWD stuff)

HOPE YALL ENJOY❤️

You a chef or something’?

For as long as you could remember, you always loved to cook for the people closest to you.

You would make them their favorite foods and the look on their faces when they would take that first bite was enough to make your entire day.

But when everything happened, cooking food that actually tasted good was the least of your concern, breaking your little chef heart. But when you walked into Alexandria for the first time and saw the plethora of food they had, your heart practically sung.

“What type of herbs do you have?”

“Just about everything, basil, thyme, rosemary, paprika. You name it we probably have it.”

“Where did you get all of them?” You said with a little giggle in your throat.

“Out scavenging, this area used to be a huge neighborhood so there was lots of herbs and seasonings that were left behind”

You were so excited for all of the possibilities! You could make so many different foods and you can now FINALLY show off to everyone how much you loved to cook. But there was one person who you especially wanted to impress.

He sat outside of the house cleaning his bow you and Rick’s group had decided to stay in until you could trust these new people.

You walked up to the house with a huge basket of cans, herbs, seasonings, and just whatever you could put into a meal.

“What gotcha all skipping down the street like a child?” the bowman said with his southern twang, an accent you been hearing since you joined the group back at the quarry.

“Just some herbs and seasonings”

“Whatcha gonna use tha for?”

“Uh, cooking?” You said in a questionable tone.

“Do you want me to cook you something?”

“Nah, you don’ gotta do tha. Whatcha gonna make with all of those anyway?”

“I have lots of ideas on what to make, you know it’s been a while since I cooked, maybe you could come inside and taste everything?”

Daryl gave it a second of thought, but in his normal gruff voice “Fine, but you gotta cook what I ask for”

“Okay!”

Ever since you first met Daryl and the quarry you always thought he was a hard working man. Always went out and got food. He was a survivor, a man the world couldn’t take down no matter what it threw to him.

When he saved you after the walkers invaded the camp, you began to not just think he was a cool guy but also to have a sense of respect for him.

“What do you want me to cook you?”

“Well, I got this squirrel that I plan of skinning, be nice to do somethin with it.”

And that got you thinking. “Maybe we could do a stew, or a baked squirrel, or maybe-“ “Woah, calm down ther’ just make a stew that’ll be simple enough all righ’?”

“Okay, a stew. Hmm.” You go inside the house and walk to the kitchen placing down the basket, and you start looking at the seasonings, and vegetables in your basket. You pick out the cucumber, carrots, squash, flour, and eggs “How many squirrels do you have?”

“I got five”

“Okay, I can make a broth from the squirrels and make a minestrone soup”

“The hell is a minestrone soup?” “It’s a soup from Italy, filled with vegetables.”

“Well okay, tell me when it done”

You gave him a big smile and turned around to get started on this soup, you had Daryl skin the squirrels for you, you baked the squirrel and toon of the meat, then placed the meat in a bag and put it in the fridge for the stew. You then got the bones and some meat from the squirrel, put it in a pot filled with garlic, carrots, onions, and you put it to the top of the got with water. Then you let it cook on the stove top for HOURS.

The next day you strained the broth and started on the soup. You chopped up the vegetables and you made the pasta. Using the flour and eggs you used 3 parts flour, and 2 parts egg. You than mixed with your hands and used a rolling pin to flatten it out. Daryl than came up to you to check what you were doing “Why ya just now startin tha?” “I had to make the broth, that took all night.”

“Ya didn’t have to do tha it justa soup I woulda had you make me somethin else if I knew it would take that long.”

“Don’t be an ass Daryl I’m doing this because I care.”

“But why do you care, why do ya care about the way food tastes n all tha, it jus ment for ya to survive.”

“I know, but mankind invented art, and I believe cooking is an art. You deserve some good food after everything you do, just let me show that I care.”

“Fine, just stop being philosophical.”

“That a big word even for you Mr. Dixon.” You joked.

He just scoffed and walked away. ‘Finally some peace to myself’ you thought. You loved that man you do but sometimes he can just get in your nerves. But you know he’s an ass out of love.

One hour later, the soup is finally now just simmering in the pot. You decided it would be a good idea to make a cake because you think Daryl might appreciate it for taking so long to cook the soup.

You ran down to the little ���Grocery store’ they had down the street and picked up some sugar, butter, and vanilla flavoring.

You devoted to them start on the cake, also making your own butter crème frosting. After two hours, everything was perfect.

You decided to set up the table and piped open a glass of red wine.

“Daryl ! Dinners ready!”

Daryl walked slowly into the house to see you dressed in a beautiful floral summer dress and some fake pearl earrings from the mall back when you were in the quarry.

“Wha’ with all this?” He asked not knowing how to react. All he knew was this beautiful woman whom he adored had made him a meal that smelled sweeter than anything else.

“I thought you would enjoy it, so I decided to get some wine, and the nicest bowl I could find”

“Well, tha’ sweet of ya, wish I dressed up a bit more now.”

Daryl was wearing what he usually does, his t-shirt with his beautiful arms showing, with his angel wing vest and his cargo pants with boots.

“You look just fine Daryl, not like we have many clothes anyway.”

Daryl silently agreed and sat down

You served him the soup with a slice of buttered Italian bread and a glass of wine.

You sat yourself across from him and Daryl instantly started to eat.

“Oh wow-“ Daryl’s face looked as if he had never eaten before.

“This the best soup I ever had”

“Are you messing with me?” Daryl had never really given many compliments to anybody, so him saying so ment a lot.

“I’m serious, the carrots are nice, ion think I ever had squash before so that new.”

“Aw well thank you Daryl”

“Nah thank you, so tell me sunshine” and nickname he had given to you that just made your heart flutter.

“Why is cooking so important to ya?”

“I think it just the feeling that, I can make people happy, that I could make them something and they would enjoy it.”

“Mm” he replied nodding.

After dinner you and Daryl had a slice of the cake you had decided to bake last minute, he also said that the cake was and I quote “Fucking amazing”.

You two decided to hang out and talk while you both cleaned up the kitchen.

“Hey Daryl.”

“Ya what’s up sunshine?”

“Do you think I could cook for you more often? I mean I hope you liked it”

“Woman, I loved your cooking, imma be coming over every nigh’ now.”

You were so happy to hear that, Daryl actually loved your cooking. You felt so happy you couldn’t hold back your smile, making your face a bit red.

Daryl smiled and continued wiping down the table.

After that you decided to go to bed, Daryl had decided to as well, but he slept downstairs still.

You kissed him a goodnight kiss on his cheek and walked up stairs. Thinking about the day, Daryl fell asleep with a smile on his face excited for what tomorrow will bring.

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THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!!!!! So sorry if it shitty but thank you all for reading my first x reader on this app 🤧 ❤️

[mandospace]

Inside and Out (Din Djarin x Reader)

Request:  Hello!! I was wondering if I could request something? I was wondering if you could possibly do like a touch starved Din? I would so love it! Whenever you are able and inspired to write of course! ❤️ thank youuuu!

Requested By: @snow30285​

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: Fluff!! Blood, mention of an injury, first-aid

A/N: I got a little carried away with this! I hope you all like it, and if you wanted to be added to a tag list just let me know. Also, my requests are open for Din Djarin and Boba Fett!

MASTERLIST

He caught himself staring at your form for the fourth time that day. Din quickly averted his eyes, cheeks flushing under his beskar helmet. You hadn’t noticed his gaze, thank the Maker, and continued on with your task. Grogu giggled at you hiding your face behind your hands, playing a game of peek-a-boo with you. 

“Where did mommy go?” You hid your smile behind your hands. Quickly dropping them from your face, you smiled at the small green child that erupted into a fit of giggles. “There she is!”

Din’s heart stuttered at the image of you playing with his child, Grogu waddling towards you before leaping into your lap. Grogu continued giggling, his tiny little hand reaching out to grab at yours. 

“AHHH, YOU GOT ME!” You dramatically cried out before falling to the ground, wrapping a secure arm around his body to ensure that he was safe. He carefully stood up on your belly, waddling his way to your face. His little hand rested on your cheek, and the soft smile you gave him made Din’s heart falter once more. You rested your larger hand on top of Grogu’s little one, holding it to your cheek. The tender moment shared between you and Din’s son was almost picturesque, it reminded him of the old oil paintings that displayed a mother and child in the palaces of the more richer planets Din visited. 

You turned your lips to place a small kiss on his little green hand. Din felt himself involuntarily reaching a hand out, wanting to join in on the tender moment between the two of you. Din imagined that he was the one cupping your cheek, his big hands instead of the small green ones of his son. He imagined how warm your cheek would be, how soft the fine peach fuzz of your cheek would feel against his palm. How your soft, pillowy lips would feel against his skin...

“Din?” Your voice is what pulled Din back to reality. You looked up at him with concern in your eyes, gaze flicking down to his still outstretched hand. “Are you okay?”

Din brought his hand back to his side, leather creaking as he closed his fist. “’M fine,” he mumbled, turning to head back to the cockpit. “It’s time to drop from hyperspace.”

Nodding your head at his retreating form, you looked back at the child that let out a small yawn. “Come on, little one. Let’s get you to bed.”

——

“I should only be gone for a few days, a week at most.” Din commented, grabbing various weapons from his armory. You stood off to the side, Grogu balanced on your hip while the two of you watched Din strap the pulse rifle to his back. You’ve watched Din prepare for a hunt what felt like hundreds of times, but it never got easier. The worry that laid deep in your chest never went away.

“Remember to close the ramp once I’m gone,” Din moved to the ramp, pressing a button on his vambrace to lower it. “And set up the safety perimeter. I recently just installed the new security system, so it should alert you to any nearby life forms. And-“

“And have a blaster nearby and communicuff on me at all times,” you interrupted his ramblings. He only talked this much when it had to do with either your or Grogu’s safety. “I know, Din.”

Din turned to you with a sigh, black visor meeting your gaze. He noticed that your bottom lip was already between your teeth, showing your worry. He wanted to reach out and glide his thumb over your lips, releasing your bottom one from your teeth. “I just want to make sure you are safe, Cyare.”

You smiled at his words, noting the strange nickname he gave you. He only ever used it when he was leaving. “I know, and we will be. Don’t worry about us, just focus on your hunt.”

Din felt himself reaching out to you, but he stopped his hand midway. “I always worry about you...” Din’s voice trailed off, and your heart thumped in your chest. “And Grogu,” he added, his face reddening under the beskar. Just talking to you made him flustered.

He turned back to the ramp and gazed out of its opening. He had tracked the bounty to some forested planet, you weren’t sure of its name. After you visited one forest planet, you’ve seen them all. You could see Din’s shoulders tighten under his beskar pauldrons, anxious and excited at the prospect of a new hunt. This was the part that you hated the most: him leaving you. Before he even took a step onto the ramp, your free hand was reaching out for him, gripping his arm around the elbow, one of the only places on his body free of beskar.

Din stopped in his tracks, and he felt like he was going to both pass out and have a heart attack at the same time. Your small hand couldn’t even reach around the thick muscles of his arm. Even though he was wearing thick layers, he could feel the warmth from your hand seeping through. His eyes dropped to your hand on him, and he couldn’t believe you were actually touching him. It wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact, but his heart was already in hyperdrive. This all happened in a single second, the span of a blink.

“Be safe.” Your voice was small, timid at this new interaction you were having with the Mandalorian. You had always thought him attractive, even though you had never seen an inch of his skin. You admired his strength and how great of a warrior he was. The silver beskar just proved how powerful he could be if he saw you as an enemy. What really attracted you to him wasn’t his strength or how great of a warrior he was, no, it was how soft and protective he was over Grogu. He always held him with great care, as if he would break with the tiniest movement. He spoke softly to the kid, afraid he would scare him with his louder voice. Watching him and his son interact is what really attracted you Din, like some primal instinct telling you to find the strongest and most caring partner you can. “Come back to me.”

“Always, Cyare.” Din’s heart fluttered at your soft spoken words. Before his heart could leap through his beskar-covered chest and into your arms, he turned away from you. Your hand slipped from its resting place on his arm and he immediately missed your touch and warmth. He could feel the longing he felt for you nestle its way in his chest, right near his heart. Before he could do or say anything stupid that would surely embarrass himself, he trudged down the ramp and began his hunt.

———

It had already been six days since Din had left for his hunt. Your mind kept drifting back to the feel of his hard muscles under your fingertips. How his voice was soft when he said the strange name of ‘Cyare,’ a name he only said when he left. You knew it was Mando’a, but no matter how many times you scanned the holo-pad’s built in dictionary, you couldn’t find a single word of the dying language. You resigned yourself to the fact that you may never know what he was calling you, unless you asked him. But that was never going to happen, your words always stumbled out of your mouth when you talked to him.

So you busied yourself around the Razor Crest whilst you waited for the return of your Mandalorian, trying to keep away the thoughts of how his hands would feel on your skin. You had cleaned nearly every surface in the old ship and even organized the wires under the dashboard. By the time you were done with your chores, the Crest was nearly spotless- there was always going to be that one stubborn blood stain near the carbonite chamber that you were never going to get out. Din had brought back a rather difficult quarry that day, and as soon as he started flinging crude insults at you, Din promptly reached for his viroblade. The cut he made was only superficial, you learned later, but the man still bled quite a bit before Din shoved him back into the chamber. You had immediately tried to clean up the pool of blood, but Din took the rag from your hand with a gentle “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.”

Besides the one stain that refused to go away, the Crest was as good as new, or as new-looking that it was going to get. The rest of the day you spent playing with the kid, mind drifting back to thoughts of Din. You had just put Grogu down for a nap when the Crest’s new security system let out a loud beeping noise, alerting you that a life form was approaching the ship. Locking Grogu away in his pram-thankfully he was still asleep- you reached for the blaster that was resting atop the stack of crates. Running up to the cockpit, you noticed that a single dot was showing up on the ship’s new security system. You managed to stop the alarm from blaring before you made your way back to the hull. You were ready to protect yourself and Grogu from this intruder if necessary.

A loud banging noise sounded against the ship as the ramp started to descend. You gripped the blaster tight, switching the safety off. When you saw the silver glint of beskar, you sighed in relief, switching the safety back on before setting it off to the side. Din slowly made his way up the ramp, arm wrapped around his middle. Your eyebrows furrowed in worry, arms reaching out to Din once he was safely inside the hull.

“What happened?” You asked, reaching your arms out to catch Din when he stumbled. “Are you hurt?”

“Knife,” he grimaced as he lowered himself to the ground. His hand slowly fell away from his side, revealing his blood-soaked clothes. “Not deep.”

“Din!” You exclaimed in shock whilst dropping down to your knees. Your hands fluttered to his side, unsure of what to do. “I think you need to remove your beskar.”

“Do it,” he grunted, resting the helmet against the wall with a ‘ting.’ His hand moved to yours, dragging your hand to show you the release mechanism under his cuirass. Flicking the switch, the armor’s magnet released its hold on the beskar. Pushing it to the side, you grasped at the bottom of his tunic, trying to work the fabric up his torso so you could have access to the wound. You tried not to notice the small amount of dark hair leading down to his pants, or the beautiful color of his skin- a warm, sun-kissed tan. Your resolve failed when your eyes trailed over his abdomen, skin littered with scars over the lean muscle. Your fingertips lightly grazed his stomach and Din jerked back with a hiss.

“I’m sorry!” Your hands flew back from his stomach, afraid that you had hurt him in some way.

“No,” Din grunted while his head rolled to the side. “Didn’t hurt, it... felt good.”

You blinked at the Mandalorian currently bleeding all over your clean floors. Okay, he must be delusional. “Din, I don’t know if I’m the best person to do this. There has to be someone el-“

“No one else,” he mumbled, hand reaching for yours. “You can do it, Cyare.”

The familiar nickname is what grounded your rising panic. Making your way to the medicine cabinet, you grabbed the necessary kits and bacta so you could patch Din up. Kneeling at his side once again, you pulled back the remaining clothing to reveal the knife wound. He was right, it wasn’t that deep, but just like the quarry that Din had slashed at all those months ago, he bled quite a lot. You tried to remain as gentle as you could while you wiped a piece of cloth over the wound to soak up the blood. It took a few rags to thoroughly clean the wound, but you had finally gotten it to a manageable state.

“This might sting.” Grabbing the bottle of alcohol from your side, you tipped out the liquid onto a clean cloth. Your eyes flitted up to where his would be but was met with only the familiar visor. Din gave you a slow nod, telling you to ‘go ahead,’ and you placed the alcohol-soaked rag to his wound.

“Dank farrik!” Din yelped, jolting slightly upright in response to the stinging sensation that was radiating from his wound. You could just barely hear the grinding of his teeth from under his helmet, and you visually cringed at his pain.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized but continued to clean the wound. The knife must have been serrated because the wound was jagged. You laid your free hand on the expanse of his stomach, rubbing reassuring circles into the skin. Din hummed at the contact. Your soft fingers sent goosebumps racing over his flesh, thoroughly distracting him from the pain. He barely registered the soothing cool of bacta when you pressed it against his wound. Din was too distracted by your touch. It was the first time that he felt someone’s touch, skin-to-skin contact since he was a child, and he knew that he was already addicted. You were completely intoxicating and you didn’t even know.

“Done.” Pressing firmly against the newly applied bandage, you could feel Din’s eyes on yours.

“Don’t stop,” he couldn’t stop the words from slipping past his lips. You had pulled away your hands from his torso, and you quirked a brow up in response. “It-it feels g-good.”

“What, me torturing you with alcohol and bacta?” You joked and began to clean up the blood-soaked rags.Your right hand reached for the medpac that was laying next to Din but stopped when he grabbed your wrist. Din slowly pulled your hand to his stomach, resting your soft flesh over his scarred skin. He shivered at your touch and laid his hand over yours, keeping you there. His gloved thumb began to draw patterns on the back of your hand, sending a shiver of your own down your spine. “Din, what are you-”

“C-can I touch you, Cyare?” He interrupted with timid words. He was staring at your face, you could feel his gaze through the helmet. You sat there in shock, unable to comprehend that your hand was sprawled against his warm stomach and distracting you with the light graze of his thumb. “Please,” Din whispered when you didn’t respond to his earlier question. You felt yourself nodding your head in a dumb stupor, not believing that this was real and happening.

He picked his right hand up from yours that rested on his stomach, and moved to cup your face. Din stopped halfway between your bodies, hesitating for a moment, before bringing his other hand up to pull off his gloves. His right hand continued on its previous path, only stopping again when he was a centimeter away from your face. You could feel the tangible tension in the air, the nervousness shared by the both of you while you stared at one another. He just held his hand there for a moment, afraid to touch you and learn exactly how your cheek would feel against his skin. Bringing up your left hand, you placed it over his right one and pressed his palm to your cheek. His skin was rough from years of fighting, but incredibly warm and soothing. 

Din let out a shuddery breath when you took his hand and pressed it against your cheek. You were so soft, so warm against his palm. His thumb lightly brushed over your cheekbone out of curiosity. Eyelids fluttering shut at his touch, the pad of his thumb left sparks against your skin. Din’s heart nearly lept out of his chest when you turned your face into his palm, lips softly pressing into the meat of his hand. Your eyes opened and you looked up at him with such a soft look whilst you held his hand in yours, lips moving over his hand, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses. Right hand joining your left, you gently laid his hand in your lap, palm facing the ceiling. Your fingers traced over every vein in his hand, stopping at his wrist when you met his vambrace. Lifting his hand up to your lips, you placed a tender kiss to his pulse point. Your kisses left him breathless, every brush of your lips intoxicating.

As much as Din loved your soft touches, he wanted to caress you, feel your lips against his. He knew what he had to do in order to feel your lips against his, and the thought made him draw in a tight breath. “Cyare...” He tipped his head forward, leaning his forehead against yours. Your hands trailed to the nape of his neck, fingers worming their way under his thick cowl so that you could feel his hot skin. The beskar was cool against your forehead, a soothing sensation. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.” There wasn’t any hesitation in your voice. Being this close to Din was addicting. You wanted to feel more of his skin against yours, have his warmth envelop you.

“Close your eyes, Cyar’ika,” Din whispered. You followed his orders, shutting your eyes tight. He waited a few moments before you felt him lean back, cool beskar no longer present on your skin. You heard the locking mechanism of his helmet release with a hiss and the sound sent your heart racing. Was he taking his helmet off?

Din couldn’t breathe. He tried to pull the much needed oxygen into his lungs, but it was like his diaphragm wasn’t working anymore. Seeing you, truly seeing you without the many filters of the helmet had knocked the wind out of him. You were utterly breathtaking. Din sat there, trying to commit every feature of your face to his memory. You were even more beautiful than he thought was possible. The soft planes of your face made him want to reach out, touch you again. So he did. He was more sure this time, taking your face in both of his hands. You inhaled sharply when he first touched you, not expecting the touch, but you quickly relaxed at his touch that was becoming more familiar with each brush of skin. Both of his thumbs skimmed the planes of your cheekbones, felt the thickness of your lashes when he ghosted over your eyes. It was like he was a blind man trying to see with his hands, creating a mental image from his sense of touch. 

Din continued to map out your face, slowly trailing his thumbs over your skin. He saved your lips for last, wanting to savor them. His thumb brushed over them, and he inhaled sharply when he felt how soft they were. Din desperately wanted to mold his own to yours. “Ca-can,” he stumbled over his words, mesmerized by your beauty. He swallowed down the lump in his throat before he continued. “Can I kiss you, Cyare?”

“Yes.” You hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, and you were sure he could feel how your face heated up at his words. His slow touches were driving you insane, but not as insane as the knowledge that he was a mere six inches away from you, helmet off. It would be so easy to just open your eyes to see him. “Please.”

Hearing the wanting-tone of your voice that matched his ever-growing need for your touch, Din leaned in. His slightly-chapped lips timidly pressed against your soft ones, and you let out a sigh at the feeling. It felt like someone had poured molten lava over you that seeped into the very cracks of your foundation. Timid and shy at first, his kiss became more confident as he slotted his lips against yours. You couldn’t help the way that your hands reached up for his face to pull him closer to you. His kiss made you realize that you had been cold and alone your entire life, and that he was a blazing fire that would warm you to your core. 

Din softly gasped at your actions, and he decided that if he were to die right then and there that he would be completely fine since he was already in heaven with you. He felt the way that your fingers mapped his face like how he mapped yours. When you carded your fingers through his unruly locks, tugging him even closer, he hummed in contentment. Din’s arms snaked around your waist and pulled you to his chest. Your legs draped on either side of his hips, kneeling in front of him. You tilted his head up to yours since you were slightly taller than him in this position, his arms squeezing you closer. Din slowly grazed his tongue over your bottom lip, and he moaned at the feeling of your tongue pressing against his. He explored your mouth, tongue tracing each tooth. Din saw stars behind his lids from kissing you. He had never kissed anyone before, but now he knew why others found it so intoxicating. The feel of your soft lips pressed against his was something he never wanted to forget. He burned this moment into his brain, desperately trying to remember the way your lips felt against his, the way your fingertips tangled in his hair, the warmth of your chest pressed against his.

When the need for air became too great, you both reluctantly pulled apart. You could already feel your lips starting to swell from the passionate kiss the two of you shared. Din’s lips never left your face, though, and he trailed kisses down your cheek and along your jaw. You couldn’t help how his name spilled from your lips when he kissed the juncture of your neck and jaw.

“You are so beautiful,” Din mumbled into your skin. Soft praises fell from his lips with each kiss against your skin. He loved the way you said his name, the way your grip on his hair tightened when he kissed your neck. His grip on you never lessened, hands bunching the material of your shirt in his hands. He never wanted this to end.

“You are too,” you sighed when his lips returned to yours. Din lightly shook his head in disagreement, making sure to not break the kiss. His self-deprecation made you pull yourself back. 

“You don’t even know what I look like.”

Leaning your forehead against his like before, you traced your fingers over his face. “I don’t need to.” You grazed your fingers over his eyelids, down his prominent nose, over his swollen lips. “I know you are beautiful both inside and out, Din Djarin.”

Din was thankful that your eyes were closed so that you couldn’t see the tears forming in his eyes. He placed a loving peck against your lips before he nuzzled his face in your neck. Din breathed in your scent, immediately finding that it both excited and calmed him down. His lips brushed over your jugular, placing a soft kiss there. “I never want to let you go, Cyar’ika.”

“Then don’t.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he placed another kiss on your neck.

“You know,” you started, fingers slowly working out the tangles in his hair. “I never know what you’re saying when you speak Mando’a.”

“You’ll learn, Cyar’ika,” Din closed his eyes, content at the feeling of you playing with his hair. “You’ll learn.”

_____

Mando’a translations:

Cyare = beloved/loved

Cyar’ika = darling/sweetheart

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum = I love you

[otterskin]

Dumb Details From the Loki Trailer I noticed but then got too serious about

First - apparently it’s not a trailer, so I guess we’ll get ‘Trailer 1′ later? ‘Exclusive Clip’ hardly seems accurate, but hey, I’m not Disney’s marketing division. I wouldn’t live in a shoebox if I was.

Dumb detail no. 1:

Owen Wilson’s jacket is...weird. Look closely.

And another shot:

Yeah...his jacket has a ‘reversed collar’. It’s a cut-out rather than cloth folding on top. Huh. What a strange design choice. What could it mean?

I’ve no idea, but that I watched the trailer enough times to notice this should concern you.

Detail No. 2

In this scene, we see what we can presume to be President Loki’s ‘Throne’. Notice the candy-canes. This is a Santa Claus throne, presumably from some mall Santa. This whole place might be in a mall, judging by the stuff in it.

But the Loki in this shot is not President Loki. Notice that he’s wearing brown pants, a thin brown tie, and the beige shirt he’s seen wearing in other parts of the trailer after he's apparently joined the TVA. President Loki wears black pants, a green vest and a wide green tie with a golden clip that resembles Loki’s little chevron he always has (more on that later).

So it would seem that Loki might meet President Loki here. President Loki might even be addressing him at the end of the trailer. It’s possible that his minions turn on him because there’s two Lokis and they don’t know which is the ‘imposter’. 

Speaking of, there’s a minion with bicycle handlebars grafted to a football helmet here, likely meant to resemble Loki. I dig it. There’s also cans of food scattered among the rubbish here. Makes sense that food production is non-existent since everyone has resorted to wearing license plates and spoons. Love how tattered the whole aesthetic is.

This reminds me of the opening Michael Waldron’s script ‘Worst Guy of All Time’, which featured a similar post-apocalyptic setting after the ‘worst guy’ ruins everything and makes himself king of the ashes. That’s likely what’s happened here, but I hope that Loki isn’t anything like Logan Paul, who was the inspiration for that title character.

Ah, the mysterious female character watching a meteor shower WAY TOO CLOSE UP. But my eyes are drawn to one thing...

What is that oblong object with a shiny handle? Could it be...

A sword? I do love swords. Did you know there’s a bunch of pictures of me in the stock photos for ‘Fencing?’ That’s my cred for loving swords.

I suspect that this female character will be an amalgamation of Amora (shudder) and Sylvie and an alternate Loki of some kind. This sword is currently in her possession, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it or another timeline version of it becomes the Loki Show’s Loki′s weapon. 

Loki has lacked a ‘weapon of his own’ in the MCU for quite some time. I mean, yes, he has his little knives, but they are many and disposable and something he chose for himself, rather than the two legendary weapons wielded by Odin and Thor, Gungnir and Mjolnir. In fact, throughout his appearances, Loki has seemed to want such a thing of his own - he briefly had Gungnir, and then the Gungnir-like scepter, and even tried to lift Mjolnir.

One might ask why Odin would’ve overlooked such an obvious show of favouritism. Why give Thor a storied weapon and leave Loki empty-handed? Heck, even Hela had the Necroblade.

In Thor 1, we might’ve assumed that the Casket of Ancient Winters was perhaps intended one day to be given to Loki, as it is shown with Mjolnir in the Vault and thus connected to it and the children who would inherit it.  But in the comics, Odin did have another weapon of storied history put away for his second son: Gram the Sword.

It was locked for eons by Odin in a special vault which required five keys to be opened, and it was meant to be for Loki if he be worthy.[2] The five keys were infused by Odin with the powers of "journeys", "endurance", "secrets", "new beginnings", and "brotherhood", respectively.[3]

The sword, like everything else in comics, has a complicated history full of take-backs and twists, but let’s just leave it at ‘it’s a representation of Loki’s worthiness and belonging in the trifecta with Odin and Thor as a King of Asgard’. It gives him ‘equality’.

In the original mythology, it’s wielded by Sigurd to kill the dragon Fafnir, and the only relation it has to Loki is that Loki is partially responsible for Fafnir existing in the first place (my username is nod to this myth by the by. Sorry Ottär.) But hey, maybe that means we’re getting a dragon? The Fafnir would be very cool.

Or it could just be a bit of rebar in this mining quarry.

Then again...it appears somewhere else...

It’s easier to see in motion, but that’s a sword swinging on this person’s back.

So the hooded figure is this lady...shall we call her Amylkie? Does that mean she’s the antagonist of this show? Well...maybe, but I suspect the true antagonist is foreshadowed here  -

So, what’s going on here? A young girl (Young Amylkie? Some other TVA prisoner that the guard is watching over? An oracle, A Norn, or a kid who wandered off from the tour group in a basilica somewhere?) She’s giving Mobius M. Mobius a...piece of chocolate. Maybe he saw a Dementor, I dunno. I suspect it’ll be a MacGuffin of some kind later. He looks pretty concerned here, which contrasts with his ‘another day at the office’ blaséness when dealing with Loki. But of course this is the eye-catcher:

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and black.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there. 

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see Amylkie literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and she’s setting them!

It’s possible Amylkie’s our big bad, but I think there’s a chance she’s either a red herring, or, much like how Loki ‘worked’ with Thanos in The Avengers, she is the pawn of a greater foe -

  - a Loki bent on destruction, for some reason or other. The TVA is obviously aware that this is the case, and it seems like they might be trying to ‘fight fire with fire’ by enlisting one Loki to combat another. The villain could be President Loki, since there's evidence of 2 Lokis in that scene - or maybe that's one of many Lokis, and the Big Bad Loki is being played by Hugh Grant as Old Loki. In any case, it would appear that Loki will be coming face-to-face with the worst versions of himself, and many of them. And, if I’m right about this scene:

...Loki will likely eventually discover that even his ‘good’ timeline ended in the destruction of his people and home, plus his own gruesome and torturous death. Although I think the TVA will keep that from him, and just show him the happy parts in an effort to inspire ‘good behaviour’. Until Loki inevitably discovers the rest of how that timeline played out and realize he’s been lied to. I don’t imagine he’ll take that very well...

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass.

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too...

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ -

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

[themandhoelorian]

Dincember - December 4: Hot Chocolate

summary: Mando has unique ways of showing his affection for his son, like getting him hyper on too many cups of hot chocolate, but it’s only after a long day of bringing the kid down from his sugar high that you realize Mando has similar ways of showing how much he cares for you.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: a caffeine addiction, sleep deprivation, the smallest sexual innuendo, Din being sweeter than hot chocolate, not super well edited ahaha

word count: 3.2k 

a/n: asdfghkldf this is so so late but this week has been long and exhausting (no this fic was definitely NOT me projecting), and I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to write :/. I’m not even really sure this makes sense, but that’s kind of how my brain works when it’s exhausted, so hopefully on some level that’s accurate ahaha 

***

You never understood the appeal of caf until you joined Mando’s crew. 

The first time someone offered you a cup, that one day you showed up to the tiny mechanic shop of your first job with bags under your eyes, complaining about how little sleep you’d gotten the night before, you thought you’d been handed a steaming cup of motor oil by accident instead. 

The dark liquid felt like lava on the roof of your mouth, leaving the taste of bitter ash on your tongue as you willed sip after sip down your throat. It did pull you out of the sleep-deprived fog, but it was more of a jolt in the opposite direction than a gentle tug, your body shooting into overdrive and hands shaking so intensely you burned your fingers on your soldering iron more times than you could count that day. 

After that, you tried to stay away from caf as much as possible. No matter how little you’d slept the night before, how often you were caught staring blankly at the wall instead of untangling a mess of wires, you always refused when you saw a mug of hellfire coming your way. The acrid taste, the jitters, none of it was worth enduring when you just had to make it to closing before you could go home and sleep away the fatigue. 

But now, your full time job is taking care of a child, and every night is a night with too little sleep. You spend your days trying to wrangle a warm, mischievous demon into compliance instead of just manipulating cold scraps of metal, and the kid doesn’t have “closing hours”- not with how violently he reacts to the notion of bedtime- so there’s never a sweet finish line to look forward to at the end of the day. 

You thought you’d known exhaustion before, felt it heavy on your shoulders those months you worked overtime to make ends meet, but that was light years away from what you feel now. The black hole of sleep consumes you as soon as you get the chance to lie down, and when you inevitably wake to the sound of cries a few hours later, it feels like the weight of the galaxy is crushing your lungs, making it nearly impossible to crawl back out of bed.

So after just a few weeks on the Crest, after that one day when you accidentally dozed off watching the kid play and woke to find him sticking a finger into the barrel of a blaster (thankfully Mando had the sense not to keep his weapons loaded on the ship or Maker, that could’ve ended badly), you bought a caf maker on the next planet and forced yourself to chug a cup every morning since.

The taste still sucks, no matter how much cream you’ve tried mixing in, but it doesn’t make you jittery like it used to, the caffeine just enough to keep you awake, and now you don’t know how you ever took care of the little womp rat without it, especially on the days when Mando returns from his hunts and the child bursts with energy to welcome his father home.

Even if it’s only been a couple days since Mando left, you’d think he’d been gone for months with the way they act at seeing each other again. The kid’s just downright ecstatic, dropping whatever part he’s playing with as soon as he hears the hiss of the hull opening and babbling excitedly as he runs into his father’s arms. He’ll follow Mando’s every move for at least an hour after he’s returned, and sometimes, you have to literally pry him from the beskar so Mando can retreat to the cockpit and set the course to the next planet.

And then there’s Mando. He’ll look stoic as ever as he takes the child into his arms, but you can feel how eager he is to reunite with his son, his affection all but spilling out the sides of his armored chest. He’ll never admit it, of course, you’re not sure he’d even be able to find the words to say it if he wanted to, but he finds other ways to show the kid how much he missed him, how deeply he cares about his little foundling.

More often than not, those methods include spoiling the child to no end, giving into the kid’s every desire and providing him with a few moments of pure, unrestrained joy. And more often than not, you’re left with the not-so-simple task of dealing with the consequences of giving the child his every wish, easing him down from the euphoric high and re-establishing that he absolutely cannot expect that kind of indulgence with anyone but his father.

Like one time, Mando stayed awake with him all night long, conceding five more minutes every time the kid whined when he was told it was time for bed. Five minutes quickly turned into hours as they watched the bright mosaic of hyperspace go by, the kid so happy to just sit in Mando’s lap while he spoke in the soothing tones of his people’s tongue. You were only able to pull the child from his father’s arms in the early hours of the morning, all three of you only half conscious at that point, and you spent several cycles trying to get the kid (and yourself) back on a normal sleep schedule.

Or like today, when Mando returned this morning while it was still dark outside, and you woke to the smell of cocoa and peppermint what felt like mere minutes after you’d fallen asleep. When you finally pulled yourself from the bunk, you found Mando sitting next to the child as they sipped on steaming liquid, his helmet tilted back just enough for him to bring the mug to his lips. 

He made the kid hot chocolate, you realized from the way the child threw back his bowl so quickly he left milky brown splotches on his face. Of course. Mando had made a habit of bringing sweets back for his son after he’d once gotten his hands on a chocolate bar you’d splurged on in the market, nearly bouncing off the walls with glee as he devoured the entire thing in seconds. That was a memorable day for all of you: the kid found his new favorite snack, Mando found another way to indulge the child, and you found out that when the kid has sugar in his system, you need caf more than water to survive the day.

So it’s no surprise that several hours and a couple more servings of hot chocolate later, long after Mando’s gone to the cockpit to fly to the next planet, you’re chasing the tiny ball of energy around the hull, running on nothing but an unhealthy amount of caf mixed with a little bit of spite, worried you might collapse before the sugar-fueled monster falls asleep.

You have half a mind to be mad at Mando for getting the kid so hyped up on the decadent drink and inevitably making your job that much harder, but you can’t get the image of them together this morning out of your head, Mando dabbing the mess from the child’s face as giggles bubbled from his tiny mouth. The memory’s shaded with the golden haze of dawn, like those dreams that feel warm and familiar, and you can feel your heart swell re-imagining that moment of perfect bliss, father and son so content just to be with each other and the sweetness in their cups.

And oh, you know you could never be upset at Mando for indulging the kid, creating those little pockets of warmth in a life filled mostly by cold, dead space, no matter how much more work it makes for you. Not when you know that he savors those moments as much as the child, that the days he’s back with his son are the only times he doesn’t have to be tough and menacing and deadly, the Crest the only place he doesn’t have to armor up his feelings just as much as his body.

You’re willing to reign in the kid, be the tough one on the ship, if it means Mando can show his son the softness that lies beneath the beskar, tuck away the sharp edges when he holds the little green menace in his lap. You’re willing to lose weeks of sleep course-correcting after each indulgence if it means he can let the honey of his love ooze thick and messy before he’s off to the next quarry and has to lock his affection behind iron walls again. You’re even willing to drink all the caf in the galaxy, let cup after cup burn bitter down your throat, if it means he can have a moment of peace sipping hot chocolate with his son at the break of dawn. 

You’re more than willing, happy even, to do all that and more for him, especially if it means you can catch glimpses of the man behind the guise of “Mando” in the process, a man whose heart you’ve found yourself wondering more and more about lately, wondering if it might one day beat strong and steady for you the same way it does for the kid.

So no, you’re not mad at Mando, not in the slightest. It’s more that right now you’re worried you might not be physically able to do those things for him, the shorter than usual night of sleep catching up with you faster than you can fight it off with caf. You’re pretty sure it stopped working after your third cup anyway, the additional caffeine just making you dizzy and no more energized, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep up with the child’s pace. You’ve played peekaboo and thrown around his favorite silver ball and even tried to show him how to rewire an old generator (not that you had any luck with that), and he still hasn’t crashed from his sugar high. 

You have no idea what else to do to keep the child busy, and Maker, you’re just so kriffing tired right now, so you’ve resorted to leaning against the door of the weapons closet, floating in that hazy space on the brink of consciousness, using what little of your energy remains to make sure he at least won’t get his hands on a blaster again. 

You’re not even completely sure what the kid’s doing right now, just know he’s somewhere on the other side of the hull, and you can only hope that Mando doesn’t come down here and find you and the kid like this. The last thing you want to do is make him worry, doubt how much you care about his son’s well being, but it’s like he can feel your exhaustion radiating through the ship because the next thing you know, the heavy echoes of his boots fill the hull as he descends the ladder from the cockpit. 

You will yourself to sit up straighter as you hear his footsteps getting louder, locate the child before Mando can, but your body is working on a little bit of a lag, and by the time you actually open your eyes, Mando’s walking past you, the child snoring softly in his arms.

Of course he fell asleep as soon as you took eyes off of him, the little monster.

Mando doesn’t say anything as he tucks the child into his makeshift bed before striding back to the other side of the hull, and some faraway part of your brain tells you to explain yourself or apologize or say kriffing anything at this point, but the inky gravity of sleep is pulling you in deeper with each passing moment, and you can’t be bothered to speak when your eyes are threatening to droop shut again. 

They must have at some point because you don’t remember seeing Mando approach you, but somehow he’s in front of you now, holding a mug out in front of your face. Maker, you must’ve drifted off, long enough for him to decide you needed some help staying awake and make you a cup of caf, and as you reach for it instinctively, bringing the cup to your lips in the trained motion, you can’t decide if it’s just as a thoughtful gesture or a thinly veiled warning for you to actually do your job.

You hum as the warm liquid coats your tongue, deliciously silky and slightly sweet, and it’s only when you swallow, the milky substance gliding down your throat, that you realize-

“This isn’t caf,” you mumble, looking up from the mug to meet Mando’s gaze.

“I never said it was.”

You just stare at him wordlessly, trying to figure out why he made you hot chocolate when it’s not going to make you any more functional. You have no idea how long you sit there thinking, too far gone to even understand the concept of time right now, but it must be a while because he breaks the silence first with a sigh.

“Cyar’ika, you have to stop drinking that crap. It’s not good for you.”

“Need it,” you respond, almost too quickly considering how long it took you to answer him before. Apparently the only thing you can understand in this groggy fog is your caf addiction. “Gonna fall asleep if not.”

“You’re about to anyway. Come on, you need to sleep.”

For some reason you giggle at that, unable to stop the laughter rising through your chest. He’s right, of course, but it just seems so damn funny right now that Mando, who has told you he rarely sleeps when he’s away, who you’ve never seen rest for more than an hour at a time, is telling you that you’re the one that needs sleep.

“You sleep even less than me, Mando. You can’t talk,” you accuse.

He jerks his helmet back in something like disbelief, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling again.

“Well I’m not the one falling asleep on the floor right now,” he counters.

“That’s fair,” you admit. You take a few more sips of the hot chocolate, closing your eyes in pleasure as the warmth floods your veins. Maybe it’s just because you’re so used to the sharp bite of caf, but the sugary drink feels so good, like something comforting and familiar though you can’t quite place your finger on where you recognize it from. It’s almost like you’re wrapped up in the thickest blanket or, even better, by strong arms as you’re lulled to sleep, and you’re not sure that’s what you were thinking of, but you realize that’s exactly what you want right now. 

And then your stupid, half-conscious brain decides to ask for it in the worst way possible.

“How about this, I’ll sleep if you sleep with me.”

You only catch how kriffing suggestive it sounds as the words come tumbling out of your mouth, but then all at once, you’re utterly aware of how much you’ve been embarrassing yourself. First getting caught falling asleep on the job and then accidentally making a very blunt pass at your boss, and Maker, you’re just a whole ass mess today aren’t you? Suddenly you feel very awake, your eyes going wide as you stumble over your words trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh stars, I didn’t mean sleep with me, that’s definitely not what I, well, not that I wouldn’t…no, I just- I do need sleep but so do you, even if you’re not actually falling asleep right now, so I was just gonna say that we should both-”

But then your rambling is cut off by a chuckle coming from the modulator, his voice light and playful in a way you’ve never heard before.

If you weren’t so kriffing worried about what he was thinking about you right now, you might’ve thought it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“I know what you meant, cyar’ika,” he says. 

Oh, thank Maker, you think, waves of something like relief washing warm over your body. You’re not quite sure how he can understand what it is you want when you can’t even articulate it yourself, but your brain is still too foggy to care, deciding it doesn’t really matter how he knows you so well, just that he does.

Mando eases the mug from your hands, the worn leather of his gloves brushing lightly over your knuckles. You whine in protest as he steals the liquid comfort from your fingers, but it’s quickly replaced by his hands wrapping around yours to help you off the ground.

“I’ll make you more tomorrow,” he assures you, his voice as velvety as the drink he just took from your grasp. “But now, we need to sleep.”

We, not you. 

You barely catch the distinction as he leads you to the bunk while his thumb rubs soothing circles on your lower back, but it just leaves you even more confused in your sleepy daze. You didn’t think he was actually going to entertain your suggestion, even if he did take it in the more innocent way, and when you crawl into the bunk and he doesn’t follow, you think maybe you just misheard him.

But as you close your eyes, your exhaustion starting to pull you away from reality again, you hear the clang of metal on metal behind you, and a gentle tap on your calf halts your descent into the stillness of sleep as Mando climbs into the bunk next to you.

It’s only after he shuts the door, when your body is pressed to his so you both fit in the tiny space, that you realize he’s taken his armor off, the first time he’s ever done so in front of you. You can’t see him at all in the darkness of the bunk, you’re not sure you could even open your eyes again at this point anyway, but even in your delirium you can grasp the weight of how vulnerable he’s making himself right now, letting you run your fingers lazily across the tight muscles of his bicep and rest your head against his broad chest.

And once again, you’re overcome by the feeling of something pleasant and vaguely familiar, your heart swelling the same way it did when you first saw Mando and the child this morning, the same warmth in your veins as the first sip of hot chocolate. You couldn’t quite place it before, but for some reason, as you listen to the way his heart beats strong and steady against you, you think you finally recognize it, the way Mando’s been making you feel all day, the reason he knew exactly what you needed before you could even realize it yourself.

It’s just a hazy flash in the moment before the black hole of sleep finally consumes you, an inkling of a breakthrough you may or not remember tomorrow, but you think this feeling, the acrid taste of caf replaced by smooth chocolate on your tongue, a strong body turned soft as it’s molded to yours, has a four letter name you thought you and Mando only saved for the child.

Maybe that’s why you’re learning to use it for each other too.

[xwing-baby]

A Day Off (Mandalorian x Reader)

This was inspired by everyone’s favourite @dindjarindiaries ​ and her lovely fic ‘The Challenge’ go read it because it's way better than this bullshit that my brain came up with. You’re an amazing writer Molly, I am sorry for this. I’m not sure why I really wrote this, but I hope you enjoy!

IMAGINE: Din leaves you for the day to go on a hunt. You entertain yourself and end up very drunk by the time he comes to find you. Hilarity ensues. (Drink responsibly kids!)

Word count: 2.4k... this was meant to be short. 

Warnings: Mention of alcohol, violence, and vomit! Please drink responsibly!! Cheeky bit of pining, little bit of flirting, fluff at the end!

The decision to leave you out of today’s hunt was a mutual one. You were tired and in need of a rest, the quarry was easy and Din was more than capable on his own anyway. So, he left you in a small town a few miles from his destination. In that small town, you found a tired old cantina, filled with enough booze and pleasant conversation to survive the next few hours. 

The hunt was done, the victim handed off successfully to the right person and Din was on his way to find you so you could move on to the next planet. He was tired and bruised from the hunt and wanted to get back to the safety of the Crest sooner rather than later, but knew as soon as he heard your distinctive laugh from outside the cantina that that was not going to be the reality. 

As if you knew he was coming, you stumbled out of the door before he could even open it. Your hair was messed up, strands falling out of the tie and into your face. There was liquid spilled down the front of your shirt and your boots were untied. You looked a mess. For a second he was a little worried, until a goofy smile spread across your face when you recognised him. 

“You came back!” You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian. Shocked, Din stands still. Not really sure what to do with himself. You notice and laugh, stumbling back off him. “You were gone for like a million hours! I missed you” 

“It was ten hours,” Din said with a smile, “But we’re going now,”

“Great, ‘cus I don’t think I can go back in there again,” You ran ahead of Din a few paces and grimaced. “Not a lot of friends were made today! But-but- but! I did a good thing actually!” Din just kept walking, trying not to entertain your rambling. You carried on anyway, you were used to his silence by now. “There was this twi’lek right, looked great but oh my stars! The worst! Turns out he knew you! Everyone knows you, not a surprise there. But he also knew that I was with you and tried to chat shit about you!” You were shouting now, gesturing animatedly and zigzagging across the street. “And he kept going so I just punched him,” You mimicked your actions from early, swinging your arm and using the momentum to turn back around to face the Mandalorian, “Punched him straight in the face! It was awesome!” 

“You didn’t need to do that,” 

“He was an asshole of course I did,” You sighed, “And apparently you know his sister or something? Didn’t realise you were such a Casanova, Tinman!” Again Din didn’t reply. He knew exactly who you were on about and was a little proud that you’d punched the guy. Must have been Xi’an’s brother. “Well, of course you are,” You continued. “You’re so freaking handsome all the time, and nobody can even see your face!” You swung back around to walk forward again, swinging your arms by your sides and giggling as you thought about what the Mandalorian might look like. You hadn’t been in his crew long but had developed feelings for him quite quickly. Not that Din knew this, “You know, I bet you’re really pretty under that helmet,” You tapped the top of his head for emphasis. “I don’t think you understand how pretty you are with it on! Maybe it’s for the best that you keep it on, you’d never be able to get anything done!” 

“Alright, y/n,” 

“You’re going to make some woman very happy one day Mando,” You said with a dreamy look in your eye. 

Din smiled and blushed a little at your words. At the same time you had developed feelings for Din, Din had developed feelings for you. He was very glad to have the helmet to hide how obvious a blush came to his face when you said things like that. He wanted nothing more than to make you happy, if you only knew. 

The pair carried on walking out of the town, and towards the small valley the crest had been hidden in. You carried on rambling away, telling him in immense detail everything that had happened while he was gone. 

“And then I got challenged to a drinking contest with this other dude. I say dude but turns out he was a Wookie. And I won! Everyone says I didn’t but I saw the way he walked out of there, I won so hard! Drunk him under the table,” You spoke quickly and animatedly. Din wasn’t really listening anymore, just enjoying the sound of your voice and watching you as you walked ahead making sure you didn’t fall over. “You should have been there and we could have smashed it!” You laughed, spinning around to face him again now with a puzzled look on your face. “Have you ever been drunk, Mando?” 

“A few times,” He replied, “Watch where you’re going,” 

“I am,” You say, continuing to walk backwards anyway. You thought about something for a second then spoke again, “But what about the Creed? Don’t you have to drink alone? Or,” You stopped again and burst into laughter. Din stopped walking, his patience growing a little thin. “D-do you, Ha!” You could barely get your words out, tears streaming down your face laughing at your own thoughts. “To- to get around the cr-creed… oh my stars!” 

“Y/n I don’t have time for this,” He said sharply.

“You have to use a straw!” You howled with laughter. Din shook his head, he wanted to be annoyed at you but your infectious laugh had caught him. He stifled his own laughter. “I want to see it so bad! Oh my stars!” 

“You’ve had your fun now,” Din tried to sound serious, his voice wavering a bit through the modulator as he tried not to laugh. 

“Yes, yes… oh! I’m sorry,” You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Yes, I’m sorry you’re a super serious Mandalorian you wouldn’t use a straw!” You coughed to force yourself to calm down but cackled with laughter again. Din started walking again, leaving you behind a few paces while you calmed yourself down. Eventually, you followed and saw the ship over the crest of the hill. 

“I’ll race you!” You called, already speeding past the Mandalorian down the grassy hill. “Winner gets the refresher first!” 

You ran as fast as you could, and looked back for just a second to see that your companion hadn’t followed you. Before you could even blink you tripped and fell on a rock sticking out of the grass. You fell, flipping over and landing with a thud on your back. You skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill, conveniently next to your intended destination. This made Din run. 

Once he got to the bottom where you were, his panic quickly vanished as he found you in fits of laughter yet again. 

“Did you see that!” You laughed. “I won!” 

“Are you alright?” 

“My back hurts a little, but I won, loser!” You exclaimed, putting your fingers in a ‘L’ on your forehead. Din rolled his eyes. As if this whole experience couldn’t get more ridiculous. “Not going to help me up?” You pouted and held up your arms like a child. Din uncrossed his arms and held his gloved hand out for you to grab and pulled you up to your feet again. The back of your shirt was ripped and grass stains covered the pale materials along with a few drops of blood. You didn’t seem concerned at all as the alcohol in your system was numbing everything. 

Din opened the Crest and you walked up the ramp to the safety of its interior. 

“Where’s the baby?” You whispered loudly. Ever since you’d joined the crew you’d loved the Child like your own. Another thing Din admired about you. “Baby! We’re back,” 

“Why are you whispering?” 

“Shh!” You shoved your hand over the front of his helmet, “He might be sleeping,” Din pushed your hand off, and you carried on walking into the ship, creeping on your tiptoes. 

“I think you need to go to sleep,” 

“Only if you’ll come with me,” You turned around and looked the Mandalorian up and down, your playful attitude now turning darker. You played with the buttons of your shirt, slowly undoing them. Din was stunned, freezing in his spot. 

“That wouldn’t be appropriate,” Din tried to stay composed, but it was becoming more and more difficult as you took your top off. He knew he couldn’t do anything, you were way too drunk. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was also human. 

“I bet you’re so pretty under there,” You sighed. You moved to be closer to him when a small green creature stood on a box and caught your attention instead. “Hey little guy!” Din took a sigh of relief, the tension you had created dissipated almost instantly as you bent down to pet the little creature. 

While you were distracted he checked over your back, seeing only a few scrapes and deciding it would be fine until the morning when you’d sobered and also weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore. Well, the last part he didn’t mind so much. 

Din went about his usual take-off activities. He could hear you talking to the Child, telling the little thing about your day and listening to it babble back, acting as if you could understand what it was saying. Eventually, you disappeared into the ship. Din hoped that you had gone to sleep. 

You hadn’t. You went to throw up, ultimately finding an empty freight box. The mixture of spinning from alcohol and the bumpy takeoff made for an upsetting mix. The Child grimaced and put its hand up to comfort you. An odd feeling washed over you, like a warm water trickling through you, then you felt better. You could see straight now. The Child seemed happy with whatever it had done and toddled away. 

You pushed yourself off the floor, and went in search of a new shirt. The cold chill of space had begun to seep into the ship's cracks making you shiver. You stumbled into Din’s quarters, you shouldn’t have  been in there but it was the first place you thought to look for a new shirt. And you found one. His cot was messy, clothes thrown around the small room. You couldn’t help but think about him then, getting out of that armour… 

It was too much. You shook your head. Even your drunk brain knew it was wrong to think about him like that. He didn’t like you, like that, there was no need to encourage the idea. Instead, you pulled the closest piece of clothing on. It was a little too big, but it smelt like him which made you smile. 

You decided to go to the cockpit to bother the Mandalorian again. It was lonely being drunk on your own. You climbed up to the cockpit and stood in the door silently. Din was talking quietly to the Child, trying to pull it away from the many shiny switches on the control panel. You grinned, seeing him with the child made your heart soar. He was so sweet to the creature, for a moment you could forget what a formidable character the Mandalorian really was. He acted like the creature’s dad and it was entirely believable. Quietly, you settled into the seat to his right, looking out as the stars streamed past in hyperdrive. Din had noticed, though didn’t say anything. It was silent for a moment or two, bar the Child’s playful squeals as it played with a silver ball. Din figured you had fallen asleep, glad that you weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore. 

“When are you going to let me fly?” You ask suddenly. Din turns to you, but doesn’t say anything. This was almost a daily discussion. It was always no. “I know you said no the last time but I really think you’re underestimating me. I land badly one time and you never trust me to fly your ship!” 

“You crashed,” Mando said plainly.

“One time!” You exclaimed. “I’ll have you know it was very harsh conditions, and desert planets are very deceptive! Give me a nice- a nice planet,” You slurred as your eyes become heavier, “and I promise I will land the crest beautifully,”

“No way,” 

“Spoil sport,” You grumble. The Child hopped up into your lap, and presented the silver ball it had in its mouth, which made you giggle. You settled further into the seat, throwing your legs over the armrest, kicking them against the leather. The Child sat in your lap and showed you its new trick of making the item float. 

Mindlessly you began to sing, quietly, and play with the Child. The melody made Din’s ears prick, you were singing in Mando’a, a song that he hadn’t heard since he was a child. Your voice made him shiver, memories flooding back of the few happy moments of his life when this song was sung last. 

You sang it to the end, with very few mistakes, making Din wonder how long you’d known it. You must have known it for a while, but you’d never understood him when he spoke the language before. 

“Where did you learn that?” He finally caved and asked, wanting nothing more than for you to sing it again.

“I learnt it for you,” You said with a yawn, your eyes closing. You started singing again, the words now fading into mumbles and eventually you fell asleep. He turned in his chair to look at you as you were quiet once more. You’d curled yourself up in the chair, head tilted back resting on the wall. The Child sat in your chest, playing with the ends of your hair. The child looked at Din and smiled, then back at you. It's a little green hand patting your leg and it cooed.

“I know, kid.”

A/N: That ended a lot softer than I planned but hey ho. Remember drink responsibly, don’t challenge a wookie to a drinking challenge, you will lose. They’re massive. Goodnight!

Tagging: @captain-skytrash​ @dindjarindiaries​ @dartheldur​ @inked-poet​ @tortles

[queenofspades6]

More than partners-(The Mandalorian x reader)

Jealousy

Part 8 of More than Partners

Summary: A man flirts with you and the Mandalorian is extremely jealous

Warnings: Jealous Mando. Protective Mando. Mentions of violence and blood. Sexual tension.

A/N: It’s one of my favorite chapter so far! I hope you will all enjoy it! I think I will write two/three more chapters before the end of the fic! Tell me if you have some ideas you want to see in the next chapter and if you want to be tagged! (I want to write some x readers with Finnick Odair from Hunger Games but I don’t know if people will read it since it came out a long time ago! Dm me if you want me to write it, I am still hesitating!)

———

<Chapter 7 - Chapter 9>

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***

It had been a week since you and Mando had a little fun in the cockpit. You could tell something had changed between the two of you that day. There was always something unspoken between your secret glances. Since that day, you had wanted the Mandalorian more than anything else. It wasn’t all about sex, because you loved Mando, and you wanted him to feel the same way.

But could a Mandalorian love a Jedi? Could you make him forget his past and focus on the future? A future that could involve a family? A clan of three?

Mando didn’t say a word about your little moment with him the other day, as if it didn’t even happen. Yet, sometimes when you entered a room, you could already feel his protective gaze on you, as if he had been watching you the whole time. Something in him had changed. When he saw you, he felt a fire burning dangerously in his body. It was as if his body was warning him about the consequences of what he was about to do. What should he do? Follow his heart or his Creed? And why was it so difficult? He had lost his family and now he had the chance to start a new one, however he couldn’t help himself but wonder if he could let go of what he had become. Was he ready for a new beginning?

He didn’t know until that day in the tavern.

You and the Mandalorian had agreed to chase a quarry together to gather food for the Child. It was an easy task since the quarry was sitting in the tavern, laughing foolishly, a huge glass full of a viscous beverage. Mando believed it was only a matter of time to catch that bounty. He had to wait the perfect moment and catch him, and you would sit at the bar, not intervening if it wasn’t necessary. It seemed easy enough for the best in the Parsec, but what he didn’t see coming was someone flirting with you. A man had taken place next to you, offering you a drink, a flirty gaze on his face. You smiled politely, accepting the drink instead of making a fuss. Mando hated him already.

The man began to talk to you while caressing your arm in a gentle manner. It was harmless, but you didn’t like the look on the man’s face, as if he had set his eyes on his next prey. You knew you had to win time and wait until the Mandalorian catch the bounty, so you took it upon yourself to pretend as if everything was fine. And if the man tried something, you could slice him in two with your lightsaber, right?You reassured yourself. What you didn’t know was that Mando had his eyes glued on you and the man, watching his every move carefully.

His fists clenched tightly, the Mandalorian was trying to remain calm. It was getting more and more difficult as the man began tracing an invisible line on your thigh, his hand slowly traveling higher. You startled, feeling the man’s hand on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your womanhood.

The bounty forgotten, Mando stood up instantly and rushed towards the man. He caught the hand still resting on your inner thigh and tightened his grip with all his strength, hoping it would bruise and even blood.

“What are you doing, man?”The guy questioned, an annoyed look on his face.”Can’t you see I am with a girl? I need privacy, man, so go get you a drink.”

The man began to search for your arm, and it was his mistake, because the Mandalorian returned his wrist, the bone creaking under Mando’s gloved hand and the man fell from his chair violently, breaking it in the process.

“Hey! Man! Watch what you’re doing! I am with my girl!”

Wide-eyed, you watched Mando shielding you from the man with his body. Why wasn’t he focusing on the bounty, you asked yourself naively.

“She is not your girl.”The Mandalorian replied, an authoritarian and threatening tone in his voice.

“Oh damn right she is, right sweetie?”

The man gazed at you, waiting for an answer you didn’t have. You just stared at him in awe, still sitting. Why Mando had intervene?

“Sweetie, tell him you are my girl.”The man insisted, giving you an encouraging look.

“She is mine.”The Mandalorian claimed, his gloved hand searching for yours.

You laced your fingers with Mando’s, enjoying the soft fabric of his glove, and processing what he had just call you.

Mine.

Were you his?

“You really think you have a chance, tin can? A Mandalorian with such a beauty? You’re kidding!”The man began giggling still on the ground, his broken wrist on his stomach.”What? You really believe she is into this helmet thing? Right now I can imagine you saying on the act “the helmet stays on” and you think you have a chance. How hilarious.”

The man chortled, almost choking and spitting blood. The tavern customers were carefully watching the Mandalorian and the man on the ground, almost excited by the fuss and the noise.

You sensed Mando’s grip tightening on your hand, and you knew the man’s words had somehow touched him.

“Mando. Come on. We’re leaving.”You muttered, standing up and trying to lead the Mandalorian towards the exit.

First, he didn’t move and then after a moment of consideration, he began to follow you, his fingers still intertwined in yours.

“You’re really following that tin can, sweetheart?”You heard the man shout but you remained silent, still walking towards the exit, not daring to look back.

In a quick motion, the man caught you and grabbed your arm brutally, forcing you to face him against your will. Instantly, you plunged your eyes into his, quickly frowning when you saw only hatred and violence.

“So you’re into that kind of helmet thing? Such a slut you are. I am sure the slut can’t even handle me.”The man declared, a triumphant gaze in his eyes and his free hand trying to grab your breast to make a point.

You were going to kick him between the legs, but you didn’t have time. The Mandalorian rushed over the man and sent him waltzing over a table, not caring about the customers who were sitting at the now fallen table. Some of the customers began standing up, and grabbing their weapons, ready to charge towards the Mandalorian. Without thinking, you initiated your lightsaber, blocking their way.

“The first one that moves I’ll slice him!”You cried, a slow grin appearing on the corner of your lips at the backward movement of the customers.

The Jedi were becoming more and more rare but they were still as much feared.

Still threatening the customers with your lightsaber, you glanced at Mando who had thrown the man against the wall.

“You love that, don’t you? The blood, the hurting, death. You are no better than me, tin can, and you pretend to be worthy of the slut? Actually maybe you are.”The man chortled, laying on the ground, his hands resting on his stomach and coughing blood.

The Mandalorian kicked him again and pressed his broken wrist with his shoe. He didn’t care if the man die. The blood was flowing, and the man was screaming loudly, and Mando wondered if he really liked violence and blood. Was it why he couldn’t stop hurting this man?

“She is more worthy than the two of us. If you approach her again, it won’t be your wrist that I’ll break.”The bounty hunter said, kicking him one last time.

The man winced in pain and nodded obediently. He was at the mercy of the Mandalorian.

All eyes were on you two. The Jedi and the Mandalorian. You were sure people would talk about it, as they always do. Mando chose this moment to join you, and he took a quick glance at you, checking if you were hurt.

“You good?”You questioned, your lightsaber still glowing and protecting the two of you from whoever would want to try.

He nodded.

“Come on, we’re leaving.”He whispered, letting you walk before him to protect your back in case someone would want to attack you.

You shivered when you felt his gloved hand on your back, leading you slowly towards the exit.

“And the bounty?”You asked, a questioning look on your face.

“Forget it.”

You giggled. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were the reason Mando had suddenly lost control of himself. Was he jealous?

Letting the Mandalorian lead you, you threw glances at the customers, hoping to make them understand you were his and only his. It was foolish, yet you were really enjoying the protective side of the Mandalorian.

“Mando.”You said, when you were outside, away of the curious ears of the tavern.”How are we going to do without money? We won’t last another week. We needed that money.”

“We’ll manage, Y/N.”

You began to head towards the Razor Crest, impatient to see the Child again. The Mandalorian was following your steps, pausing sometimes to glance behind. And then you stopped, and he watched you, his head tilted in slight confusion.

“You know, I don’t mind being yours.”

The Mandalorian sucked in a deep breath, and you smiled, feeling the wind against your face.

“You only have to ask.”You whispered, hoping he had heard you.

You smirked, aware of the effect you had on him, and then you headed towards the ship, not daring to look back.

Mando sighed, watching you walk, there was no one like you.

“She will be the end of me.”He muttered under his breath, resuming his walk.

At that moment, the Mandalorian knew he would follow you everywhere if it meant you were together. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t mind losing himself, because with you, he could be someone better, someone worthy of your love.

⬇️Chapter 9⬇️

Tag List:

@lol-who-am-i @kiaralein @kryttlebee @jedi-dreea @katialvi @heaven77 @eyeliveinabook @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @mitamixer

[snarwor]

Happy holidays @anarchycox! I’m your secret santa! It was so hard keeping it secret for two months straight lolol. Have some SOFT Geralt/Lambert!! Thanks @thewitchersecretsanta for setting this up! More under the cut, or click the link to read on AO3!

Lambert always left Kaer Morhen first. The pass was still entrenched with snow, but he had his bombs, and if worse came to worst, Igni would light his way like it always had. He went on foot, drawling out his distaste of having someone to rely on and to rely on him in return, even if it would save his tired legs at the end of the day. He’d bought - actually bought - enchanted boots that never wore thin like the others, and he was determined to get his money’s worth. He always tried to set out before the sun rose, to watch the grasp of night slowly weaken through the trees as the day dawned, and him within it.

His attempts at disappearing in the night were never unobserved, however. Three pairs of golden eyes watched his descent down the main road from the keep, before two of those pairs turned away at the first turn that concealed his journey, the morning still too chilly to be considered merely brisk. One silent watcher kept his post, however, catching glimpses of the man’s trek down the clearly-defined, decades-trodden trail from the keep. It usually took three days down the mountain for even a Witcher’s eyesight to fail at tracking its quarry.

And Geralt’s eyes never once left him.

There were moments where Geralt doubted winters had even happened at Kaer Morhen, that the affection and touches and kind, soft words were just his imagination dealing with the aloof nature Lambert always put on at the beginning of spring. Imagine a better life, because you’re not going to get one, and all that horseshit.

Geralt made himself wait until Lambert had very definitely made his way off the mountain before packing up his own things, if the weather permitted. He wasn’t following him, of course, but the castle was just that much colder without the smirk-lipped man there to keep him warm while the wind howled and the snow snarled. Once again, there were two sets of eyes watching him, until he made the turn, and they turned away. Geralt spared one more look at the old keep, some pile of stones that didn’t mean home, but was where he had home.

And then he’d go. It became easier and easier for him to slot picking up Jaskier into his schedule, as he gathered start-of-season supplies. Enchantments and rations in Novigrad, his bard in Oxenfurt, some healing supplies from one particular hut along the Pontar.

Days passed too slowly without Lambert making fun of something. Jaskier was too polite, too refined to actually say the crass joke they were both thinking. Even Eskel, when he ran into the man, was as unchanging as a mountain, and just as unshakeable. It was no wonder he prowled the keep like an antsy panther before Lambert showed up. He was missing a part of him.

It was in the southern tip of Kaedwen where Geralt found Lambert. Jaskier was luckily away for some festival or another, and with summer in full swing, Geralt found himself grateful for the warmth, but it wasn’t a fire in a hearth he knew each crack of by heart. It was enough, though. Geralt wasn’t following Lambert, but when he’d heard “witcher” and “crazy” and “probably dead” in an old tavern, he knew the signs as well as if he’d been tracking a wyvern.

Lambert was, coincidentally, fighting a wyvern, and losing, when Geralt came upon him. He unsheathed his silver sword and prowled forward. The two were too wrapped in battle, too close, for Geralt to afford Lambert a distraction. When he found his in, he fired a crossbow bolt at the beast’s head, at least stunning it while Lambert found his bearings.

From just the cursory glance, Geralt could tell he hadn’t been eating well, and that the wyvern had injured his hand in the skirmish. On top of the other reckless Lambertisms he adhered to on the Path, like the sleepless circles around his eyes, the drawn tension in his shoulders speaking of desperation for victory, the worn look to his clothes telling of no time to waste on himself.

The younger witcher let out a snort. “Of course you’re here.”

“Good to see you too,” Geralt said with a roll of his eyes.

“Go ahead and step back, I’ve got this under control,” Lambert insisted, though he was obviously favoring his left hand.

“Sure. And when you lose that hand, you’ll have it half under control.”

“Oh, fine. Stay alert. I think there’s a mate.”

“You think there’s a—!?”

Just then, a second screech joined the first, the stunned wyvern having recovered. Geralt thought quickly, but Lambert had the advantage of already being in battle. He cast out with his left hand, pushing the wyvern back with an Aard, before charging the off-balance creature. Geralt did the same on the other wyvern, grounding it with a few crossbow bolts to its wings.

Fuck, I need to get better at aiming this thing.

The battle was difficult, but decisive when, after Geralt had taken the head of the second wyvern, Lambert had dropped a delayed-fuse bomb into the mouth of the first. They ran, but within a few seconds, were covered with wyvern innards. They spent several minutes heaving at the smell, but they were safe, and neither had sustained more injuries than a few bruises.

“See?” Lambert panted, a beautiful smile on his face, cutting through the gore across it. “Under control.”

In awe of him, as always, Geralt shook his head and wiped the mess off his face. “Come kiss me, you bastard.”

Lambert’s ears went a shade of red that had nothing to do with the flesh and blood on his face. He drifted over to Geralt as if pulled by a string, and they shared a quick, chaste kiss, blessedly free of gore. That longing and ache in his chest dissipated just a little. “Let’s go back to the inn. They promised a room. This is still just my contract.”

“Would’ve been just your grave, too,” Geralt said, receiving a smack to the arm for his troubles. “I’ll buy dinner. And a bath.”

Geralt didn’t want to acknowledge how hard the Path was on Lambert, not outside of Kaer Morhen when they could be free about it for as long as they wanted, but the many bowls of stew and bread he pressed on the man were enough. Geralt knew Lambert was the one who brought back the most supplies every winter, but it wore him to the bone each year. It frustrated Geralt each day, until he couldn’t count the other Witcher’s ribs with his eyes.

“Where’d you learn that trick with the gag reflex on the wyvern?”

“Same place I learned it on me,” Lambert said airily, making Geralt nearly inhale his beer. “Maybe I can show you later.”

“Fuck’s sake, Lambert,” Geralt laughed.

“‘Scuse me, are you the White Wolf?” a timid voice asked from the side. A boy, too young to be eating here, probably the innkeep’s son, stood almost behind a nearby column.

“My name is Geralt,” he answered, keeping his voice calm and even, a little higher than he usually did. Lambert had seen how Geralt changed when talking to children. It was sweet and kind and all the things people didn’t believe a Witcher could be. Lambert was happy to be able to see it this time. The boy’s eyes sparkled in awe, and he took a little step out from the side. “What’s your name?”

“Mardi,” the child said. “Can I see the silver sword?”

“It’s a little dirty right now, I’ve got this dagger, though.” Geralt shot Lambert an apologetic look, but still looked secretly pleased that the child had approached him without fear. Perhaps that bard is doing some good, Lambert thought to himself. Geralt pointed out the runes on the hilt, and showed off how they glowed when he spoke an incantation over them. “A sorceress I saved gave this to me as a gift.”

“If you saved me, I’d give you the butcher knife in the kitchen!” the boy declared. Geralt gave a closed-lip smile. His fangs were a little scary, even for eager children who play at slaying monsters with their friends.

“I would appreciate that very much, Mardi. I’m sure I’d just be happy if you stayed out of any situation that would warrant a Witcher’s saving from.”

Lambert saw reverence shine from the boy’s face, and his own ragged heart warmed at the sight. Geralt deserved love and affection, more than most, and had been only given scorn, more than most in that as well.

“This is my friend Lambert. I’ve known him since he was your age,” Geralt said, swinging his smile back over the table to an unprepared Lambert. He hid his face in his mug.

“Geralt…” Lambert protested.

“He killed the wyverns that were in the forest today,” Geralt told Mardi, a little conspiratorially. As standoffish as Geralt liked to think of himself, he was really quite good at stepping in and fulfilling social niceties. Maybe it was just dealing with pompous nobles that made him all stony and cold.

“Wow,” Mardi said, his adoration turning like a beam from a lighthouse. Lambert ducked his head a little, but acknowledged it.

“I am competent sometimes, you know.”

“I do,” Geralt said. “I do.”

The room they got was significantly better than the one Lambert would have gotten alone. Geralt had become a bit better of a negotiator since walking the Path with Jaskier, and knew that crossing his arms and glaring went a long way with the right person. Lambert whistled when he dropped his things to the floor, looking around at the swept floors, the comfortable carpet, the large tub behind a screen…

The one bed.

“He almost pissed himself when I pressed the issue. It’s the nicest room, but it’s also the one-beddiest room,” Geralt explained, dropping his saddlebags next to Lambert’s.

“Well, if it’s comfortable and you don’t snore, I think I’ll be able to get a few hours’ rest.”

“Hey,” Geralt said gently. Lambert looked at him, and was pulled into another kiss, this time with an embrace that made his knees weak.

“Hey,” Lambert said, when Geralt pulled back.

“Relax a bit for me? You should patch up your hand.” Geralt took a step backwards toward the door, like he didn’t want to look away from Lambert, though his mind had priorities elsewhere.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. ‘Sides. It’s a scratch.” Geralt didn’t argue with him. He didn’t want to waste the time they had together on harsh words and empty nastiness. He turned away to return down to the tavern floor, and left Lambert to patch himself up. He ordered a bath and two small trays of snacks, things they could pack away and ration for later easily, like cheeses and cured meats. Though he didn’t order any, they both came with two large, if weak, tankards of ale. It’d do. Geralt amused himself with keeping his face neutral to the peace offering from the tavern owner, but he shared a wink with Mardi as he passed by. He smirked to himself when he was finally back up in their room, balancing the food in his hands while knocking with his foot.

When Lambert opened the door, he’d taken off his shirt and jacket, revealing a poorly-bound chest and an even shittier-bandaged hand. “You planning on eating all of that? We just had dinner,” Lambert said, drawing Geralt’s attention away.

It didn’t work. “We are. Some’s for later. Let me rebandage those for you.”

“Fine.”

When Geralt sat down and pulled the chest wrappings away, it showed an almost-healed gash that must have given Lambert trouble on every hunt since he got it. “What did this?”

“Fearsome creature. Almost unkillable. It’s called a Lambert.”

Geralt shook his head with a smile. “You know, it’s always amazed me that you can be so competent, but only when you’re not thinking about it.”

“I’m competent all the time, but my bad luck is also pretty consistent.” They met each other’s rolling eyes. They didn’t really believe in luck. It’d been something of a joke they shared through all the years together. “I tripped.”

“On what?”

“Thin air.”

“Then what did this?”

“I was carrying a knife in my arms, trying to get something out of my pockets at the same time.”

“There it is.”

A knock at the door sounded, and for the next fifteen minutes, hot water was brought in to fill the bath. Geralt tipped the terrified inn workers and locked the door. “You need it more than I do. Get in.”

“Play doctor with me after?” Lambert smirked.

“Only if you’re good.” Geralt’s hand ghosted a little over the side of Lambert’s face, fond and still disbelieving that they’d ran into one another on the Path.

“You know, I’m not a toddler, you don’t have to follow me to the bath to make sure I scrub behind my ears.” Lambert stripped out of the rest of his clothes so he had an excuse to hide his reddening ears.

“You never scrub behind your ears.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” They gathered near the tub, their toiletries stacked on the low bench beside it. When Lambert’s back touched the hot water, he groaned. “Almost like home, when I close my eyes.”

Geralt said nothing about it, knowing the sentiment well. He washed Lambert’s hair, taking care to tickle behind his ears, and worked out the muscles in his shoulders. He took care washing Lambert’s wounds, and checked over the injury in his hand. It was an annoying sprain at most, and would be fine by morning.

“How’s your season going, then?” Lambert asked. He kept his eyes shut, for this all felt too much like a dream to accept as reality.

“It’s been dull. Lotta cold nights lately.” Geralt spoke of the last hunt he’d been on, just north of where they were now.

“Well it looks like I’ll have to change direction, with you clearing out all the contracts in my way.”

“Maybe we could walk together, til they get a bit more popular. End of summer means lots of monster babies.” Geralt stood, and readied a bit of medical supplies for after Lambert got out of the bath. The bastard seemed to be keen on taking his time soaking, however, so Geralt brought over the cheese and bread and meat. “Open up.”

“Wha—!” Lambert got a mouth full of bread, and had to chew to not choke. “You asshole.”

“Quiet, it’s romantic.”

“Choking a man in a bath is romantic?”

“Yes,” Geralt deadpanned. He fed Lambert his share of the food, until he wanted his turn in the bath. Lambert lay on the bed, completely nude and drying off in the sheets like a bastard. “There’s more food and ale on the table,” Geralt said, not indulging as he’d do if he were alone. He washed himself well, and stood, remaining naked like Lambert.

Geralt wrapped Lambert’s hand, running the tips of his fingers over where it was most sensitive and ticklish. Lambert flicked him in the forehead, but allowed himself to be patched up. It was hard to do it himself, especially on his hand, since he only had one other to work with.

“Oh. I remembered. I got you something.” Lambert stood after the gash on his side was patched up, and bent over his bags. He knew he was putting on a good show for Geralt, who gave a hum of appreciation, as if on cue.

Lambert stood again, and brought the item over. “Saw this in a stall in a town not too south of here. They were making them for practically nothing, painted right over another one for a few crowns.”

It was a Gwent card, the backing showing it was part of a Monsters pack, one that Lambert typically favored. Geralt usually ran with a Northern Kingdoms pack, but had been growing quite a little collection to impress Lambert with, and offer as bets when the coin ran out in wintertime. On the other side of the card, there was a fierce, but incredibly detailed drawing of Geralt. “The artist said he’d seen you once or twice, always running through the woods, eyes black as night, hair white as snow, that’s what he said.”

Geralt looked closer at it. The miniature portrait had been sealed in a thin lacquer, leaving the surface shiny and smooth. “Damn, Lambert,” Geralt said with a grin. “This is incredible.”

“Don’t start cryin’ on me,” Lambert drawled, blushing around the ears just a little bit. “Was happy to get it. Even if you didn’t want it, at least it’d keep your ugly mug on my mind from time to time.”

“Aw, my mug’s on your mind?” Geralt smirked, setting the gift down carefully, to be put with his other precious cards, the kinds he kept for tournaments.

“Well, now it’s not.” Lambert was turned in the circle of Geralt’s arms and pulled close. “Cuz you just—”

Geralt cut him off with a kiss. He knew it was unfair, in a way, but he also knew Lambert liked when he was demanding and sure of what he wanted. Geralt cupped his face, holding him there so he could see him. “I miss you too, you know. Out on the Path.”

“You’ve got that bard—”

“He’s not you. Is it so hard to believe that I enjoy your company?”

“Everyone else seems to tolerate it.” Lambert shrugged.

“When have I ever been like everyone else?”

“Alright, Mr. Ego,” Lambert finally laughed, bringing his gaze up to look at Geralt’s again. “Save it for winter, eh?”

“It’s pretty cold tonight. Could always pretend it’s winter, that the walls are stone instead of wood, that the rain isn’t rain, it’s snow. That this,” Geralt pushed him back onto the bed, gentle enough that Lambert could have stopped himself if he wanted. “Is my bed, and you’re still just as stubborn getting into it as you are getting out of it.”

Lambert watched him with a new look in his eyes, something having worked itself out in his brilliant mind. “Okay,” he said in a whisper. “We can pretend.”

After, Geralt rolled off and they both caught their breath, panting up at the ceiling, long after the candles had been snuffed out. Several minutes passed in silence, and Lambert thought Geralt had merely gone to sleep, until he spoke.

“Monsters, though?”

“My monster.”

In the morning, they walked together.

[baseballbitch116]

Your Walking Dead - Daryl Dixon Interactive Love Story

A/N: The way this is designed is so that YOU get to choose how you would like to proceed through the story. At the end of every chapter, there will be 2 options. There will be different consequences to your choices! Every choice you make will change the outcome of the story. No two choices will provide the same outcome! YOU can determine who survives, where you go, and overall how your interactions with Daryl will go!

Introduction: Follow along on your journey with Daryl and the others throughout the series... You choose your actions... Will you end up with Daryl? YOU have the power to decide that!

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Setting: We begin in the Atlanta camp, before Rick has joined.

Word Count: 1420

Series Warnings: Gore, violence, strong language, potentially triggering content, sexual themes, death, mentions of drug/alcohol consumption and abuse...

Chapter Warnings: Brief mentions of violence, strong language

Masterlist

Send Me A Request! | Series Masterlist

[This idea was inspired by @twdeadfanfic, who is creating her own series with a similar concept!]

Without further ado... Let’s get into it!

To say that you had run from Atlanta would not be an exaggeration by any means. You quite literally ran through the streets of the once thriving city as the dead took over. Nothing could have prepared you for this. You had no survival skills whatsoever. You couldn’t hunt, fire a gun, build a fire... Fears overwhelmed your mind as you ran through the streets, dodging the dead as they tried grabbing you at every opportunity. You had nothing but a backpack of limited essentials.

Someone had broken into your apartment in an attempt to escape the dead chasing them, in turn allowing the flesh-hungry dead to get inside and force you out. You probably would have died if you hadn’t met Shane and Lori along the highway. You had no weapons, having lost your steak knife in the arm of one of the dead back in the city. Wandering down the stand still traffic on the highway, you were desperate. Lori spotting you as you stumbled down the road, dehydrated, out of breath and limping. You owed her your life for offering you a bottle of water that day a few weeks ago.

You are drawn from your thoughts by the sound of someone approaching. Glancing up from where you sat on the RV’s stairs, you shoot a weak smile at Dale. “Are you alright, Y/N?” The older man asks as you stand to move out of his way.

“Just thinking about... Everything.” You respond. Dale nods as he studies your face. You’ve had some conversations with the older man before about these sort of things - what the future might look like, what could be happening in other area of the world...

“Best not to dwell on it too much, I think.” He says, patting your shoulder as he passes you and enters the RV. You couldn’t help but feel like you weren’t pulling your weight around the camp, though. As you looked around, you saw most people doing one thing or another. Lori and Carol were washing clothes, Shane was cleaning his shotgun, Glenn was on watch for walkers on top the RV. You knew that if it weren’t for some of the others in the camp, you would not have food or a fire or weapons.

Deciding that you needed to find a way to earn your keep, you head over to Lori and Carol in order to help them with the laundry. It certainly wasn’t a task that you desired, and you found it slightly belittling that only the mothers in the camp washed clothes - but you needed something to do.

Striking up light conversation with the two older women, you got to work on hanging the damp clothes up to dry. You had grown close to Lori since she let you tag along with them out of Atlanta - feeling that you owed her and Shane. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t met them...

You felt a pair of eyes on you as you worked, making you glance around your surroundings in search of whoever was alarming your senses. A scoff escapes your lips when you spot Merle Dixon’s eyes on you from the door of the RV. The older man had been hitting on you from the moment you met him a few weeks back. He had to be at least twenty years older than you, but that didn’t seem to bother him as he continuously made passes at you.

You suddenly felt self conscious in your black leggings and tank top. The Georgia sun beat down on your skin relentlessly from sunrise to sundown, making most of you try to dress lightly around the camp to avoid overheating. You roll your eyes and huff, redirecting your attention to the conversation Carol and Lori were having. “What is it?” Lori asks when she spots your sour attitude.

“Just Merle ogling over there again.” You mutter to her, tilting your head in his direction lightly as you throw another shirt up on the clothes line. The two women shake their head in annoyance and mumble about how gross he is. You heard a rough male voice call out Merle’s name, regaining your attention from the women again. Your eyes landed on his brother approaching from his tent - Daryl.

You had not spoken to the archer more than once, finding him rather standoffish and hard to approach. He was good looking, that you could not deny. He was about the same height as his older brother, tan and well built. You admired his physique as he threw his crossbow over his shoulder. His muscular arms were bare and dirt stained under his green muscle shirt. His short shaggy brown hair contrasted nicely with his blue eyes. Daryl had by far interacted with you the least of any one else in the camp. He seemed to have little interest in being around anyone other than his asshole brother.

You had also taken notice of how minimally affected he seemed to the current state of the world. He built fires, hunted, tracked, and killed walkers as if he had been doing it his whole life. You couldn’t help but wonder what his life was like just a few weeks ago. What did he do for a living? What was he like under all that hard exterior?

Merle’s gaze landing on you once again made you quickly avert your eyes back to the women, hoping he had not seen you looking their direction. Both the Dixon brothers intimated you, for sure - but you for Merle revolting while Daryl intriguing.

You were only a handful of yards away from the brothers, easily able to hear their loud, raspy voices from where you stood if you blocked out Lori and Carol’s chit chat. “Ima go hunt. Found some deer tracks earlier.” A voice that you determine to be Daryl’s based on his comments, announces to his brother. Merle didn’t do much of anything around the camp, whereas Daryl always seemed to be preoccupied with one task or another.

You continue hanging the clothes that Carol hands you distractedly, eavesdropping on the brothers.

“Ain’t got nothin better ta do than chase rabbits around the woods, little brother?” Merle drawls with a scoff. You roll your eyes at his comments, wondering what he has to do other than ogle you and cause trouble around the camp.

“Like sit on my ass all day?” Daryl retaliates, his comment reflecting your own thoughts. A smirk tugs at your lips as you continue.

You glance up when Daryl walks past you guys, crossbow over his shoulder and large knife attached to his belt buckle. You briefly meet his eye, neither of you saying a word as he continued past you toward the woods. You dropped your gaze back to the clothes basket, mentally scolding yourself for being so interested in the man. He didn’t even acknowledge you, you shouldn’t be wasting time thinking about him.

The morning drug on slowly, like most others. This new life was very boring, you could only imagine how the kids were feeling. You missed your phone, the internet, television... As stupid and privileged as it sounded, you couldn’t help but feel like time slowed down and you had nothing better to do than wash clothes or gather firewood.

You had gone inside the RV for about fifteen minutes to cool down from the intense sun, the sweat from the sweltering heat trickling down your skin. You hated feeling sweaty - you felt gross. Stripping out of your leggings that were sticking to your skin, you tossed them into the clothes basket in the corner and throw on your denim capri pants in place of discarded item. You missed your shower - a pond or quarry would never replace a relaxing shower with actual soap and hot water.

When you heard numerous voices nearby the RV, you decided to get up and head back out - seeing what was going on. Slowly exiting the vehicle, you take notice of numerous people standing around one of the cars. “What’s going on?” You ask Glenn as he passes you. “Going on a run. Wanna come?” He asks, stopping and turning to look at you.

You had never gone with them on a run before, what exactly do you do? Would you just get in the way? But then again, you’ve been wanting to find a way to pull your weight...

What should you do? Choose your path!

Go on the run | Stay at camp

~~~~~~~~~~~

And that is the introduction!! The two links above are different parts that will change how you proceed in the story and you will see how just one little choice will drastically change the events that follow! A simple decision like going on a run or not... Is going to set the foundation of this story and all of the choices you are going to need to make following it!

Please leave me some feedback on what you thought of this first part and let me know in the comments which option you chose!! I’m looking forward to seeing everyone’s reactions to this series!!! ♥

If you want to know when this series has been updated, feel free to turn on my notifications and ask to be added to my taglist! ♥

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[bowieandqueen11]

Until It’s Too Late / Losers Club Imagine

Request: could you write something about stanley’s daughter showing up to kill it and how the club would react n stuff? if not that’s fine!!! 

Are you trying to make me CrY???

Please comment and reblog, if my page is still so inactive I may stop writing

The grass by the quarry was soft on the soles of your feet, surprisingly warm, a gentle tickle against your ankles as you waded through the forest green. Each strand moved in the summer breeze as easily as through your hair, the waves  rustling as if alive, matching your steady breaths. The grass is taller than you’ve seen in your memories; meadow-like but still green. All you wanted was to see  the blue cornflowers, scarlet poppies, white asters and even the thistles that your dad had used to describe to you, from hot summers long gone and alive now only in your memory. 

You swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the last time your dad had told you stories about the quarry, about the clown, about his friends. The painful gleam in his eye, the scratching of his palm as he gazed at your bedroom wall without even seeing, without even really being present all suddenly made sense to you. Before you reached the broken wood of the Clubhouse’s hatch, hoping the information the lady out the Town House had given you was correct and the Losers were really seen heading out here, you had to stop. Choking in some air, you placed your hand on the bark of a nearby tree, leaning on it for a second. You never realised, when he told you about the time the Losers had stood by the quarry holding hands, knowing they were saying goodbye to each other, but promising that nothing would be stronger than the bond of love that flowed between them, that he was trying to say goodbye to you too.

Leaning down the open hatch, you hear some slight murmurs, deciding if Richie Trashmouth Tozier was actually down there, humour was the best way to introduce yourself.

‘Hey Losers, it’s time to float!’, you shout down the hatch, pressing your lips together as you await a response. Your eyes try to adjust to the darkness, but you still can’t see anything other than shifting blobs. That is, until you feel the reverberations of hand gripping onto the ladder.

‘Hey Richie, is that you again?’

‘Eddie, you’ve literally had your eyes on me for the last five minutes, you know it wasn’t.’

‘I w-wish it w-was.’

You fall back, stumbling onto your feet as you see the head of Ben Hanscom pop out of the hatch. It takes him a second, as he looks around the trees with furrowed eyebrows, but after a second his eyes locked on yours. You saw the shock register on his face before he could hide it, climbing out onto the grass with a familiar smile playing on his lips. 

‘It’s alright guys, you can come out. I guess Uris managed to join us after all.’  You could tell that he wanted to come over and hug you, but was waiting for someone else to make the first move. His voice was much sweeter than even Stanley had told you; it was the richness of his tones, luxurious and warm and ever as kind as he had remembered. 

The others start out, spilling out like marbles rolling across the floor as they join him up top, Richie boinking his head lightly against the frame and managing to knock his glasses onto the floor. Perhaps that’s why he was the last one to see you, the last face of grief in the group. For perhaps a split second, his shock was suspended, the surprise protecting him until it shattered like glass. I guess you could call it shock, but to you they're they're the same thing for the first fraction of a second: an inability to compute. His hand lands on Eddie’s jacket without even realising, fingernails digging into muscle until Kaspbrak shoves him off with a wince and an ‘ow!’

Fragments of thought, splinters of words, and droplets of silence spun into a kaleidoscopic jumble over the Losers Club, shifted infinitesimally, and fell into an incredible new pattern as some began to collect their thoughts, shaking the image of their dead friend off the top of your face.

‘Whoa, Uris, when did you become a teenage girl?’

‘I’m sorry, w-who are you?’

‘You can’t be-can you? I mean...no...that’s not possible,’ Beverly adds, moving over to slightly hide behind Ben’s wide shoulder. Her eyes shifted to the side again and became glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As she blinked, they dripped from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. She bit her lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from her mouth; your heart sinking, not fully comprehending before how much your presence would affect you, only focusing on how meeting them would complete you.

Her lower lip quivered as words slowly made their way out of her mouth again. 'You’re... Stanley’s daughter...’, she began, yet what followed was engulfed in the tremors as Ben turns to wrap her into his thumping chest.

‘Stanley’s dead, this must be that frickin clown playing with us.’ Eddie gasps, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers to pull out and shake his inhaler, his cheeks puffing out as he takes a hit. Richie glances over at him behind his glasses with unbelieving eyes, shoving his hands into his pocket.

‘Come on man, if he was going to hurt us, he’d send us a version of the actual Stanley instead.’

‘My name’s Y/n. Y/n Uris. Yes, my dad is gone, but I’ve come in his place, because if this is going to work, I think I need to be here.’

Your eyes were burning and your chest felt heavy as if it were filled with lead.

‘Sorry, it’s so weird seeing you all in person. Dad used to tell me so many stories about the Losers Club, after the Lucky Seven, before, you know, the bath...’

Bill’s face comes into view from beside Mike’s, craggy features suspended between grief and joy. Seconds pass, your brain taking him in, the leader, the one who started all this, struggling to comprehend that he isn't one of the pictures Stanley kept beside his bed. How the ground between the two of you was erased, you’ll never be able to recall, but one moment you are apart and the next his arms have wrapped around your shoulders with the strength of a man holding onto the sail of his boat in the midst of a tumultuous storm. The warmth of his body meets your cold skin, giving you hope like your father always did before he left you. One of his hands clasps around your lower back, the other stroking your hair, and it takes the two of you a moment to realise another set of arms has joined you, then another, then another, until all the Losers are huddled underneath the Derry sky, arm in arm again. With each soft touch more tears fall, tears none of them wipe away. 

After so many years, as Bill scrunches Stanley’s shower cap underneath his crushed fingers, it finally feels as if the Losers are complete again.

None of them really knew what they’d had, or what they’d lost, until it was too late.

[crystal-moon-101]

Ehhhhh, more redesigns/rewrites! The Hong Kong Gang up here. And yes, I added Circe because I see her as part of the squad.

-Cricket-

I tried to make her a little more bug like. Adding a couple more details to the body, adding those palps to her face and changing the white in her eyes to black. Her outfit is slightly different but I changed her hair to a pixie cut, because I thought she'd suit a shorter hair style.

Notes:

16 Years Old

5'5 (When she is half cured, she becomes 5'4)

Real name is ‘Chen Tsui’

Because of her strange bug legs, she had to wear very short shorts. She didn't feel comfortable walking around with them on, however. So she ended up also wearing her skirt.

Before she mutated, she lived with her parents. They weren't the greatest of people, both extremely rich and successful in their businesses, expecting the same with their daughter. They constantly put her down and emotional abused her. The moment she became EVO, they kicked her onto the streets.

Use to have long hair, but Skwydd helped her cut and style it to a much shorter length. It was mostly so it didn't get in the way with the amount of jumping she did, but also a little rebellion against her parents. They would never allow such a look.

Excellent chief, food is often a ten out of ten.

Was the only one in the gang, including Rex, who was already in Hong Kong before going EVO.

When she is incredibly happy, the palps on her face will wiggle.

Emotional sponge of the group.

Because of her up bringing, she sometimes just does insane or stupid stuff out of nowhere because things use to be so uptight and strict for her. It strangely relaxes her.

Took her weeks to figure out how to walk with those legs.

Loves candles, especially scented ones.

Has a thing for street boys with a heart of gold (*Cough* *Cough* Rex *Cough* Tuck *Cough*).

Many don't notice it, but her and Skwydd have a sibling like relationship.

-Tuck-

I changed him the least. His original design is very simple so I couldn't think of much to do. I did rough up his shirt a little more, adjust his build and give him a loose belt.

Notes:

17 Years Old

6'0 (Later grows to be 6'3.)

Full name 'Tuck Byron Craig'

Leader of The Hong Kong Gang since Rex left.

Before he mutated, he lived with his single father, who was a car mechanic. They were happy together, but sadly, they weren't in the best financial situation. They ended up borrowing money from some dangerous people, and when they couldn't came back they came to their place. A fight broke out, Tuck's father was killed and he ran away, living on the streets ever since, eventually mutating.

When Rex vanished, he spent the longest time looking for him. Skwydd assumed the worst quickly and Cricket gave up after a few weeks, while Tuck looked for months.

No.1 Bro to all.

Quarry had made plans to give Tuck Rex's hold spot, but he trash the idea when he saw that he didn't have the same flare as Rex did.

Because of his father, he knows a lot about mechanics with cars or motorcycles.

The one most likely to want to talk things through than fight if there is a chance (Cricket is too quick on defense, Skwydd doesn't trust easily and Circe many issues.)

God awful at trying to speak another language. Cricket tried teaching him Cantonese, but his pronunciations were way off. He tries, he really does.

Would have gotten his ear pierces if he had ears.

He likes crappy high school films, they always just make him laugh.

He's had a thing for Cricket for a long time, but when it became apparent to him she liked Rex, he didn't make any attempt. But now, in the present, he's began trying since it's clear nothing will come between the two.

-Skwydd-

Small squish boy. Honestly my favorite out of the crew. But anyway, I made his tentacles a little longer, gave him little eyebrow things, a gradient on his hands and gave him a new jacket/jumper.

Notes:

15 Years Old

5'6

Real name is ‘Walter Milo Martin’

Emo with a secret soft heart <3.

Before he mutated, he was the child of a young couple who died in an accident, so he was giving to his maternal Grandmother, who was happy to raise him. Bit of an odd child, but he loved his Grandma and had a lovely relationship with her. Even when he turned EVO, she accepted him. However, in her older years she started having heart problems and died one morning. He, of course, called for help, but fled before anyone arrived. He knew very well that being an EVO will get him into trouble. Since then, he's lived on the streets.

He loves art, his favorite form being ink stuff, ironically. Him and Rex like to share drawings, one of the few quiet moments they have with one another.

Has a dorky crush on Circe.

Has a very squishy body and it's honestly nice to hug him, if he allows it.

While his ink spray is his main defense, his does have one nasty bite.

Also, his ink stuff stains, badly.

Has suction cups on his hand/fingers. It's the only way he can hold stuff with them.

Probably listens to My Chemical Romance or piano music.

Knows how the play the flute, a skill learnt from his Grandma.

The one you could vent to for hours without him having to talk too.

Has a really strange bone structure. Like, some parts of him has bones, some don't.

Had to painfully watch the love situation between Rex, Cricket and Tuck on the sidelines.

His real hair is quite long and he learnt early on how to cut, brush and manage hair, even style it. Sadly, he can't really do that anymore, and Cricket hair is too short to style, while Tuck has none. However, sometime after Circe joined and was comfortable enough, she lets him style it for her.

-Circe Kleiss-

You read that right, in this rewrite/reboot/WHATEVER!? Circe is the daughter of Van Kleiss. It was an idea me and my friend came up with, as a way to explain some of her actions and motives, but also for more dramaaaaaa, along with adding onto Van Kleiss's character. Yes, this also means her and Rex knew each other before the Nanite Event. Again, adds more drama. Her outfit changes were to be more practical, especially because of where the Pack lives and sends her on missions. I also made her a little muscular, because this girl has quite the training. Still a bit of a goth girl though.

Notes:

16 Years Old

5'8 (Grows to be around 6'0 in her young adult years.)

Fear this girl, she knows how to fight.

She was young when her mother died, roughly four years old, so she doesn't remember her that well. However, her father has always openly talked about her to Circe, so she knows her mother was a lovely person, with a personality that somehow made the cruelest of people smile. Sadly, she died to an untreatable disease, though this is was resulting in Van Kleiss joining the Nanite Project, after learning that it was suppose to prevent illnesses.

Biowulf was her primary training, so they have some respect for each other, but can get snarky at one another.

Her and Breach however? Not that great of a relationship. Circe does feel a little bad, as she understands Breach is not all there, but that doesn't stop them from bickering.

Skalamander and her have a rather peaceful relationship. She appreciates all that he does, even if it's minimal compared to the other two.

You could imagine her shock when she saw Rex, her childhood friend, alive. Gave quite the yelling at her father when she learns he never told her this.

Her and Cricket like to have little make up session, even if Cricket doesn't keep hers on afterwards.

She's really good a writing, often making little poems or short stories here and there. Horror is a favorite of hers.

In the past, her and Rex were the only kids around the labs during the Nanite Project. You can imagine the trouble they caused.

She has trouble standing up for herself, but lord forbid you say something about her friend.

She likes to watch murder mysterious, often getting really into the story and making predictions all the time.  

Has the least knowledge of online culture.

Has a giant EVO worm thing as a pet (This one is actually in the show).

[trashmouth-tozier89]

Welcome to the Loser’s Club Asshole - Ch. 1 | F O U R

warnings: swearing, pretty disgusting stuff (dead bodies) , angst, pretty sad stuff but the next chapter will be worse

word count: 4,748

pairing: richie tozier x reader, platonic!losers x reader

a/n -  fourth chapter in and y/n finally gets her encounter with pennywise... also she takes a big step with richie!! this is quite a big chapter for y/n, so pay close attention and more importantly... enjoy!! 

If you wish to be added to the taglist, send in an ask or pop it in the comments! :)

taglist: @grapesauze​

Welcome to the Losers Club Asshole! Masterlist

Y/N had never been one for swimming. She hadn’t grown up around the ocean, or even swimming pools; there was a quarry on the other side of her hometown, but the idea of swimming in polluted water never appealed to her and her friends. Especially after her father’s accident.

So, of course, hearing that the boys wanted to spend the rest of their afternoon at the quarry swimming didn’t exactly have her jumping for joy. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t go though; they were the only friends she had made so far, and ditching them on their first official ‘hang out’ together wouldn’t have been a good first impression.

As the rest of the boys planted their bikes firmly on the ground, Stanley propping his up with the stand, Y/N had already made her way over to the edge of the cliff. She stared down at the gentle waters below, gulping at the thought of having to jump, beginning to nervously bite her lip. Richie seemed to sense Y/N’s hesitation, as he glanced over at the girl as he began to remove his shirt; “what’s wrong?” he mumbled, not wanting to catch the attention of the other boys who were currently arguing with Eddie about the health risks of going swimming.

“Uh… nothing” she muttered, eyes not even flicking towards the boy who was now stood at her side, also looking over the edge. He had a wide grin on his face, full to the brim with excitement and exhilaration. She needed to come up with an excuse believable enough so that she didn’t have to dip even her pinkie toe into that water; “I just, um- I can’t swim”

“You can’t swim?” Stan piped up from where he was stood, making Y/N jump as she hadn’t realised she had said it loud enough for them to hear. The glares coming from the boys felt like it was burning into her skin, as she tried to explain.

“W-we didn’t have anywhere to swim back in my hometown, so I-I never learnt. Sorry, I should’ve told you before I dragged myself out here” she explained, earning small nods from all the boys except Richie, who wasn’t sure whether he believed her or not. He saw the look on her face, and that was a look of fear; he would never confront her about it though, the last thing he’d want to do was make her uncomfortable.

“It’s n-n-no problem Y/N. There’s a p-p-path leading down to those rocks, if you’d rather just sit there for a while? W-we probably won’t be in the water for too long.” Bill proposed, pointing out the edge of the water where the boys would often sit to dry off after they had been swimming. Y/N considered it; it was better than just going home, and she supposed now would be a good time to do some sketching.  

“Thanks Bill” she grinned, feeling relief wash over her with the fact the boys weren’t judging her. She played with the hem of her dress as Eddie led her back to the path; throwing her satchel over her shoulder and waving goodbye to the boys before heading down the trail. It didn’t take her long at all to get down to the spot, and by the time she arrived, the boys had only just finished stripping down to their tighty-whities. She giggled at the sight, settling herself down on the edge of a rock comfortably and unclipping her satchel to pull out her sketchbook. She was rather glad she didn’t want to swim, considering the day was a perfect one for sketching.

Before she began to let her imagination run free, her eyes drifted up to the 5 boys who were still stood at the top of the cliff, partaking in a loogie contest which Richie was sure to win. Everyone knows it’s about distance, not mass. Who care how cool it looks, if it’s green or it’s white or juicy and fat? What matter is how far it goes; that was Y/N believed anyway. Soon after watching the boys, mainly Eddie and Richie, argue about nonsense, she noticed that someone had finally made the jump; though when said person bobbed back to the surface of the water, she recognised the red hair to be that of Beverly’s.

“What the fuck?” Richie shouted, watching alongside the 4 other boys as the girl made the leap none of them had been brave enough to take yet. “Oh, holy shit! We just got showed up by a girl!”

“Do we have to do that now?” Stan mumbled; he had already been nervous to do the jump in the first place, but after watching Bev, he was now even more uncertain of performing the feat. Maybe he should’ve just joined Y/N where she was perched near the bottom? Though, the other boys seemed just as nervous, but they knew they’d look like absolute pussies if they didn’t. Eddie answered almost immediately, as if it were obvious; “Yes!”

“Come on!” They heard the feminine voice of Beverly come from the below waters, so they at least knew she was alive and hadn’t drowned. Ben waved down at the girl, while Stanley simply mumbled an “oh shit” with a petrified expression on his face. He was extremely close to backing out, until Bill took the first step and jumped down to where Beverly was. Which meant there was absolutely no way they could back out now, so one by one they joined.

Before they knew it, they were all together in the water and splashing about with the widest grins on their faces. Bill suggested a game of chicken, and so Beverly mounted his shoulders and Eddie on Ben’s, Stan spotting the two on top to ensure neither got hurt in the process. Richie, however, stood away from the group with his eyes on something much different; it hadn’t taken long for his gaze to fall onto Y/N where she had sat perched on the rocks in the distance. He watched the way she focused on her art, drawing as if the ideas were just flowing through her; he wished he could have a talent like that. No, all Richie was good at was annoying people. Y/N had decided drawing the scenery before her was something she hadn’t tried, but would like to; she was used to drawing smaller things like birds or insects because she found she was best at capturing the finer details they carried. However, the sight of the quarry sparked something of inspiration in the girl, and she was stirred into a world of art before she knew it.

After about 20 minutes, Y/N’s hand had begun to cramp from the constant movements, and smudges of lead pencil coated the side of her hand. She was happy enough with the sketch to say it was done; she could always go back to it and add more later on. Nevertheless, the girl was eager to take advantage of the summer weather and so she took to sunbathing on the towel she had brought along for some reason. Pulling her dress over her head to leave her in only her underwear, she put her sunglasses on to protect her eyes and lay down. She hadn’t been aware of the eyes which were staring her down; Richie couldn’t find his voice. He felt his cheeks flush hot, and his stomach grow heavy. His heart pounded in his throat, threatening to break out; his eyes stayed locked on her. How many love songs had he heard that said, “She takes my breath away”? Now that line made a lot sense to him. He couldn’t comprehend the feelings taking over his brain; he hadn’t felt anything like it before. Sure, he thought girls were hot, and he found his cheeks blushing when his hand would brush against someone else’s, and sometimes he’d even stutter on his words when a girl asked him the answer to a question in class; but he was a teenage boy with a penis going through puberty, of course he got overwhelmed from time to time. But it was never this intense; he hadn’t ever looked at a girl in this way. Looked at a girl as if he was in love with her. No Richie, he thought, there’s no way!

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts by the sensation of something nipping at his ankle; “Ah fuck! What was that?” he yelped out, catching the attention of the rest of the group who had been too distracted to notice he had zoned out moments before; “Something just touched my foot right here!”

Both Richie and Stanley ducked their heads under the water to see if they could spot the mystery creature, but they were unsuccessful. Eddie tried to help too, asking “where are we looking” and Richie had tried to point it out to the small boy but they couldn’t see anything for the life of them.

Bill ducked under too, and was quick to notice exactly what it was; “It’s a turtle!”

****

This here’s a tale for all the fellas

Tryin’ to do what those ladies tell us

Get shot down cause ya over-zealous

Play hard to get females get jealous

Y/N wasn’t sure at what point the Beverly had lay beside her and began sunbathing, as she had been dozing off for the past 10 minutes; the beams of the sun were surprisingly relaxing. Thankfully, one member of the group had brought a radio, which was currently playing Young MC’s Bust a Move; one of Y/N’s personal favourites. She had soon found herself mouthing along to song, unaware of the fact she didn’t know every word because that didn’t matter.

Her h/c hair had splayed over her shoulders and her skin almost sparkled in the sunlight. A deep curve on her lips made the world stop around her; she has a smile that makes you feel happy about being alive. She was lay on her front, a novel in hand as she scanned the page to find where she had previously been after getting distracted by the music.

Okay smarty, go to a party

Girls are scantily clad and showin’ body

A chick walks by you wish you could sex her

But you're standing on the wall like you was Poindexter

Y/N was yet to notice the sharp glares of the boys, as she had found herself too caught up in the pages of her book. Richie couldn’t tear his eyes from the girl lay in front of him; none of the boys could divert their gaze from the pair really. Stan kept glaring at the boy who had to keep pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose; he couldn’t stop thinking about what Y/N had told him just the night before. She hadn’t had a conversation with Stan about her so-called crush on Richie since then, and so Stan was yet to have the chance to apologise for making her feeling bad. He just didn’t expect someone like Y/N to like someone like Richie. The boys, not used to seeing girls in nothing but their underwear, all sat eyes wide and mouth ajar while admiring the girls; though Richie only had eyes for Y/N and was finding it difficult to disengage his attention.

Next days function high class luncheon

Food is served and you’re stone-cold munchin’

Music comes on people start to dance

But then you ate so much you nearly split your pants

It wasn’t until Y/N started to feel herself getting cramp in her neck from the awkward position that she noticed the boys staring at her. A smirk growing on her face, she began to turn around to watch the boys scuttle around eyes wide, some coughing awkwardly, attempting to make it seem like they hadn’t spent the past 5 minutes preoccupied by the sight of the half-naked girls. Both Y/N and Beverly glanced at each other and chuckled, before propping themselves up onto their elbows to face the rest of the group.

Richie was almost certain he’d been caught checking Y/N out, if not by her by Stan. Thankfully, he distracted himself when he caught sight of Ben’s backpack open, digging his hand in to realise it was probably full of school stuff; he announced to the rest of the group in a comedic voice “News flash Ben, school’s out for summa’”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy, never getting tired of his ridiculous voices and impressions which nobody else found funny; Stan noticed the way he blushed almost immediately, and he would’ve questioned it if Ben hadn’t but in; “Oh that? That’s not school stuff.”

“Who sent you this?” Richie chuckled, a humoured smirk growing on his face as he pulled out a small postcard from the bottom of the bag. He looked to Ben, wiggling his eyebrows up and down teasingly.

“No one! Give it-“ Ben insisted, snatching the card out of Richie’s hand before he had the chance to read it and shoving it back into the bottom of the backpack. The smile failed to fall from Richie’s face as he pulled out a book, filled with old newspaper articles about the Black Spot explosion; it was titled “Easter Explosion Kills 88 Children, 102 Total”.

“What’s with the history project?” Richie questioned, furrowing his brows as he read through the first few lines of the article. Y/N had found herself growing curious at what the boy was reading about, so she pulled herself to her feet and went to sit on the rock between Richie and Stan. Richie gulped slightly as he processed the proximity of the girl, her leaning over him to look at the paper intently before paying attention to what Ben was saying

“Oh, when I first moved here, I didn’t have anyone to hang out with, so I just started spending time in the library” Ben explained, earning a snigger from Richie.

“You went to the library? On purpose?” Richie asked, sounding completely serious with the question. Y/N took a little offence by this as she had always been an avid reader, and the library was one of her personal favourite places to go. She nudged him lightly, scolding him; “Some people enjoy going to the library, Richie!”

“Why? It’s all just books and… well, more book” Richie pointed out, earning an eye roll from Ben and the girl. He stared at them in utter bewilderment.

“That’s the whole point Richie; maybe if you’d learn to actually read, you’d realise it can actually be interesting”

“Oh, I wanna see” Beverly changed the subject, jumping to her feet and grabbing the folder out of Richie’s hand. Sitting beside Bill, she handed it to him without noticing the way his eyes followed her as she sat, his throat bobbing up and down to clear his throat.

“What’s the Black Spot?” Stanley asked, considering he hadn’t had the chance to properly read the paper.

“The Black Spot was a nightclub that was burned down years ago by that racist cult” Eddie explained.

“The what?” Y/N questioned at the same time as Stan; they were both clueless at this point.

“Don’t you watch Geraldo?” Eddie questioned, and at the sight of Y/N’s head shaking he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in a joking manner as if he had been wounded. The couple chuckled softly, Y/N shoving Eddie’s shoulder gently; Richie watched on at the interaction with a pit of jealousy growing in his stomach.

“Y-y-y-your hair…” a soft voice pulled them out of their interaction, turning to see two pairs of eyes gazing intently at the redhead; Ben and Bill. As Y/N managed to match the voice to Bill after a few seconds (thanks to the stutter), she let a small smile perk up on her cheek; there was something going on between those two. It was obvious Bill wasn’t going to finish his sentence as about 10 seconds of silence passed by, finally being filled by Ben perking into the conversation; “Your hair is beautiful, Beverly”

“Oh” Beverly smiled at the boys compliment; “Right. Thanks”

There was a hanging tension between Bill and Ben, as Ben grinned towards the ground bashfully; Y/N could tell from the moment Bev joined the group that Bill had something of a crush on the girl, and so she wanted to investigate into a little further. Perhaps it was to take her mind off her own problems with Richie, but that didn’t need mentioning. Richie was beginning to feel awkward, staring at the two infatuated boys who were practically pining over Bev. “Here, pass it” he snapped his fingers, holding his palm out flat for Bill to pass the folder back over. Once having received it, he reopened and scanned the page.

“Why’s it all murders and missing kids?” Richie questioned, passing it to Stan and Eddie so they could read it too.

“Derry’s not like any town I’ve ever been in before. They did a study once and it turns out people die or disappear six times the national average,” Ben explained, not noticing the way their eyes all widened at the statement.

“You read that?” Beverly asked, while the rest shared worried looks. It wasn’t difficult to realise that the conversation had taken a turn for the worse, yet Ben still continued.

“And that’s just grown-ups. Kids are worse; way, way worse” Ben said as Y/N and Richie locked eyes; she gulped loudly at the thought and he could see the ounces of worry in her eyes.

“Well that’s great, my mum decides to move to the one town I could realistically die in” she mumbled, feeling her palms grow sweaty at the notion; this was not what she expected to come from her first summer in Derry. She felt a hand place itself on hers, shooting her head up at the source; Richie. “I-I won’t let that happen.”

Usually Richie would make a joke at this point, or a snide remark about how pathetic Y/N was being; that was if it was any other member of the club. Considering he could tell how spooked she really was, and he felt a little unsettled too, he wasn’t in much mood for jokes. Y/N searched his eyes for any sign of sarcasm or humour laced in his intentions, before nodding slowly and letting the corners of her lips curve up slightly; he meant it.

“I’ve got more stuff, if you want to see it?” Ben suggested, more enthusiastic than everyone else combined. Eddie was quick to deny it, shaking his head as his eyes scanned his friends. They were hesitant, but they knew it would probably be better to know it all than be in the blue. The group packed their stuff away, getting dressed and heading back to where their bikes were left. Eddie was ranting to Y/N about the dangers of grey-water, which she found ironic considering the boy had been swimming in quarry water only an hour ago, when she realised she had forgotten to pack her sketchbook back into her backpack.

“O-oh, guys, I think I left my sketchbook behind. I’ll catch up with you!” Y/N shouted out from the back of the group, watching as they all turned and nodded at her words before continuing their walk to where they had left their bikes. Believing nobody was going to follow behind her, Y/N went in the opposite direction, back to the spot where the group had been sat only minutes ago. She could spot the pastel yellow sketchbook from almost a mile away, and considering she didn’t want to completely lose the others (she didn’t have a clue where Ben lived), she almost raced over to the sketchbook. Placing it in her red satchel hanging over her shoulder, she went to turn away and catch up with the boys, who’s heads were now only just bobbing out of sight; that was, until she heard a voice from behind her.

“Y/N” the voice almost choked out, sounding as if its mouth was gargling ounces of water. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed almost immediately, confused considering there hadn’t been anyone there before. Not wanting to turn around, afraid of the possibility that there was a random homeless man who had followed her back down to the quarry, she brushed it of as just her imagination. It was just her imagination. “Y/N…?” ‘

That stopped her in her tracks; the voice had become clearer, as if the water had drained out of their mouth, and she knew that voice. She could’ve recognised that voice anywhere. Her whole body turned at the speed of lightning, eyes brimming with tears at the sight before her; “D-dad?”

There stood her father, just how she remembered him; the same high-waisted chinos, which were held up by the same pair of brown suspenders. The same tacky Hawaiian shirt, which she noticed looked a lot like what Richie was wearing the day before, but green; no wonder she liked Richie’s style. The same pair of brown loafers he insisted on wearing every day, whether he left the house or not. The same thick-rimmed glasses he would wear when sat at the dining table with the newspaper and a coffee in his hand. The same bushy moustache which would always tickle her cheeks when he’d give her a small kiss goodnight. It was all the same, except he looked exactly the way he should’ve; a corpse.

The corpse was almost devoid of skin and pitted by burrowing sea insects, and Y/N almost had to turn away as her stomach heaved, nostrils filled with the smell of rotting meat. The clothes were ripped to shreds, drenched in saltwater and algae just like the rest of it. Froth emerged from the corners of its mouth and nose, the sound of spit almost becoming worse than the smell. Its hands were almost down to the bone, the tissues having turned into grave wax, and the greenish black skin blistering over. She didn’t know what this was, but it wasn’t her dad, her dad was dead.

“Y/N, my sweet” The voice choked out, if you could even call it that, it hardly sounded like words. It was as if its lungs were full to the brim with water. She didn’t understand what was happening; what was this thing and why did it know her name? “I’ve missed you”

“What the fuck are you?” She almost yelled out, wanting to back away from the sight before her, but she found herself almost frozen in place; she felt paralysed with fear. Her eyes brimmed with bitter tears threatening to spill as the thing began approaching her slowly. It wasn’t even walking; it was floating through the surface of the water; the hand reached out to grab her own.

“Why, Y/N, you know who I am.” It spoke, so calmly she couldn’t quite help but believe maybe it wasn’t dangerous.

“Y-you’re not my d-dad. He’s dead” She tried to convince it, when really she was only trying to convince herself that this wasn’t real; it couldn’t be real. There was absolutely no way this was real… right?

“Oh, dear, don’t you think I know that. And let’s not forget who’s fault that is” he chuckled at her expense, watching as her head shot up at his words in shock. “Don’t look so shocked, we both know it was your fault. You did this to me, you’re the reason I died that day at the quarry” his voice became louder and harsher with every word, his hand now grasping the collar of her dress so tightly that she was struggling to breath.

“I-I didn’t do anything! I didn’t know!” Y/N defended herself, but her voice came out as mere wheezes, the tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Such a shitty excuse for a daughter, aren’t you? You left me to die, and so now you’ll be next. Come join me, Y/N, come join your old man. You’ll float, float just like the rest of us” he spat, face mere inches away from hers. She tried to fight back, kicking and punching at the monster that wasn’t budging at all.

“D-dad, stop!” she cried out, gaining nothing but a laugh. It wasn’t her dad’s laugh though, it wasn’t the monsters laugh. It had risen in pitch, morphed into laughter that Y/N didn’t recognise. Her scrunched eyes burst open to see a clown, replacing the corpse that was once there. Its grin was wide, rows of razor-sharp teeth sticking out, and eyes an unnatural orange colour. Before Y/N could scream, the clown spoke up.

“You'll float down here. We all float down here.” The clown teased, and in a split second the two were dunked into the deep waters of the quarry. Before she could surface to catch her breath, darkness had enveloped her. The water began to close in around her, filling her with a deep dread. She tried to hold her breath for as long as she could, but it ended up being too long. Red and black splotches danced in front of her eyes and she couldn't really tell if her eyes were opened or closed at that point. The coldness she had felt upon entering the water was completely gone; a desperate hot wave had washed over her, warming even her frosted toes. Her heart was beating rapidly in panic, the urgency for air was more apparent than ever before. There weren't red speckles in her field of vision anymore; it had become all black.

She opened her mouth, gasping for air. She revelled in the sensation of fresh air filling her lungs, rather than the salty, polluted water she had tasted only seconds before. Her vision was still blurred, but she could tell she wasn’t submerged anymore, as the bright light hit her eyes faster than she’d have liked; though she couldn’t have complained. Her ears felt clogged, all sound around her was extremely muffled; she could barely make out the begs and pleads coming from the figure in front of her. Wait; there was a figure in front of her?

“Y/N, breathe… say something… come on, say something”

As her eyes began to zoom back into focus, she could just about make out the shape of the body before her; it was wearing a green shirt over white, what seemed to be patterned grey shorts, and thick-rimmed glasses which sat across the bridge of its bright red nose. Her mind immediately drew back to the rotting body which lured her into the water, and how much it resembled whatever was before her now. With as much strength as she had, she attempted crawling backwards away from it only to find she couldn’t, as her back was perched against the rock ledges. Her hoarse voice screamed out; “get away from me! Leave me alone! I can’t-”

“Y/N, it’s me! Stop moving around, you’re going to hurt yourself; it’s me!” The voice shouted over her, clamping its hands down on her shoulder so that she would stop moving; he was afraid she’d bang her head on a rock or scrape her knees. The girl didn’t calm, still having trouble identifying the individual as anything but the monster; “what do you want with me? What are you?”

“Y/N calm down, please!” he pleaded, feeling tears brim in his own eyes at the sight of the girl in such distress. As she shivered vigorously, she felt herself losing energy being wasted on trying to escape, so she calmed herself and focused on getting her vision to return. Tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, she slowly began to recognise the person as not her dad, not the clown or the monster, but someone she was much happier to see.

“R-Richie?” she croaked out, launching her whole body forward to wrap him in a swaddle of her arms and chest; she was soaking wet and absolutely freezing, but the boy couldn’t care less.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, finally feeling a sense of comfort.

Then it dawned on Y/N; Richie had rescued her, pulled her out the water and saved her from drowning. He didn’t let her die.

He kept his word.

*****

A/N guys i imagine y/n’s drawing to look something like this ^^

[princecupcakee]

Keep Him Smiling | Reddie

AO3

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 1,262 words

Summary: (Soulmate AU: the last words your soulmate will say to you is written on your wrist but fades away when one of you die.) No one knows why there are words written on your wrist. All they know is that it’s about your soulmate. Eddie knows though, he saw it.

~~~

“I’ll see you two later,” Frank Kaspbrak said, kissing Eddie on the forehead.

“Did you forget something?” Sonia smiled, holding up his car keys.

He let out a breathy laugh, “Thank you.”

He walked out the door, still facing his family and waving as he walked to the driveway and then- crack. Sonia rushed to him, tears spilling out of her eyes. The situation was too fast, too much for Eddie as he stood by the door, shock taking over him and stood perfectly still. “Eddie!” Sonia shouted. Eddie ran towards his mother and father, still not fully aware of what was happening. All he could remember after that was seeing the ink on their wrists slowly fading.

~~~

“I fucked your mom,” Richie snickered at Eddie.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

The rest of the Losers had things to do that day. Beverly and Ben were together in the library for some project Ben wanted to do. Mike, Bill and Stan were all together, wanting to bring Georgie to see Mike’s farm. Eddie wasn’t allowed to go the farm, his mother fearful of the possible diseases he could catch. Richie had joined Eddie instead of going to the farm because he hadn’t wanted for Eddie to be alone —and Bill doesn’t want Georgie to hear Richie being Richie. And of course, neither of them wanted to spend a day in the library to read some book about Derry history.

Richie just threw a few rocks at Eddie’s window, hoping Eddie would open it and join him outside. They walked around a bit after Eddie scolded him for such a dumb idea, they grabbed an ice cream and sat around benches to people-watch. They got bored by then; the people of Derry aren’t that interesting. So now, they sat by a few rocks at the Quarry, talking of whatever they felt like.

“Why do you even have to say that?” Eddie asked.

Richie sighed, pulling up his sleeve, “look,” written on his wrist was, ‘I fucked your mom’

“What the fuck?” Eddie laughs.

“What’s yours?” Richie asked, laughing with Eddie, who pulls his sleeve to reveal the writing, ‘What? What’s up, buddy?’

“Why do you think we have these?” Richie asked, taking Eddie’s hand in his, not saying anything of it.

“Oh… uh, I don’t know,” Eddie lied.

“I keep hearing rumours about it. ‘Its the first words your soulmate will say to you’, ‘It's your soulmate’s favourite words’, and a bunch of other stuff. The only thing that connects all of them is soulmates. What do you think?”

“I think… its definitely not favourite words, why would someone’s favourite words be: ‘I fucked your mom’?” Eddie replied.

They laid in comfortable silence for a little while. “Who do you think your soulmate is?” Richie asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Who do you want them to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you want them to be like?”

“Someone… who’s easy to talk to. Can make me laugh. Can keep me smiling. What about you?”

Richie was caught off guard by the question, quietly panicking, “Uh, well… I-I don’t even have to explain it. You already know what your mom is like.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie glared.

~~~

Eddie’s sixteenth birthday was small but somehow more than he had ever imagined. For once in his life, his mother let him enjoy and take control of his own life —only for a fay of course— and he chose to have the Losers over until the next morning. None of the other Losers knows what really happened that night, all gave up on trying.

Richie had come to the Kaspbrak residence first, the two laying on Eddie’s bed while Richie sang ‘Happy Birthday’ in multiple different impressions of people. Eddie thought they sounded horrible, but he listened to them anyway. Ben and Beverly followed after, bringing bags of chips and unhealthy food in a backpack to hide from Eddie’s mother. Stan, Bill and Mike wouldn’t have gotten any if Ben wasn’t so considerate. Bill, Mike, and Stan came afterwards.

Early into the night, Bill and Mike went out to get more snacks from a convenience store, coming back later that evening to continue the sleepover. Stan hadn’t come with them, instead, sitting around with Ben and Beverly in a guest room where they talked about Derry (yes, Stan had regretted his decision after realising he would be the third wheel. It was too late to join Mike and Bill by then.) So with that, Richie and Eddie were again alone in Eddie’s room.

“How are you enjoying your birthday?” Richie asked, playing with Eddie’s hair after forcing Eddie’s head on his lap. Eddie protested of course but went with it after arguing for three minutes because he really wanted to do it anyway (he would never tell Richie that.)

“I’m liking it,” Eddie smiled sitting up before he pushed his lips against Richie’s. Richie returned the kiss, his hands slithering there way around Eddie’s waist, “Happy birthday,” then returned to Eddie’s lips.

Richie and Eddie woke up the latest the next morning realising they were the only ones in the room. The two walked down the stairs, watching as the rest of the Losers walked around the kitchen having breakfast.

“Hey guys,” Eddie waved.

“The fuck happened to you two?” Stan asked.

“What do you mean?”

Bill took a look around the area, to check if Sonia was anywhere within earshot, and said in a hushed voice, “He m-means, going into yo-your room to play a g-game and you sle-sleeping on Richie.”

“We all saw it,” Bev added, a smile across her face, “glad we didn’t have to see what was before that.”

“Nothing happened!” Eddie defended.

“We’ll never know,” Mike joked.

“We don’t want to,” Stan elbowed Mike, to which he laughed.

“Nah, he’s right guys. Nothing happened. First, you would hear it if we were. Second, I’d never do that to Mrs K,” Richie joked.

“Leave,” Eddie said, strictly. Richie just kissed his hair and walked away to get a cereal bowl.

~~~

“So… what are we?” Eddie asked leaning his back on the wall as he sat on his bed. The other Losers had left earlier and it was just him and Richie.

Richie, seated on the floor, answered, “Well, I wanna be with you. Like, actually with you.”

“Me too.”

Richie walked up from his seat on the floor to walk over to join Eddie, “then we’re that. You’re my soulmate, Eds,” Richie said, pulling his sleeve up to look at the writing.

“Richie.”

“Yeah?”

“The writing on your wrist… its the last thing your soulmate will say to you.”

Richie laughed, “Then, you can’t be mad when I make jokes about your mom. You’re gonna say it to me,” he gestured to his wrist. Eddie smiled.

~~~

Richie and Ben set him down by a few rocks while Pennywise clawed at an opening, looking for the Losers.

“Hey, Richie. I have to tell you something,” Eddie chocked out, blood dripping from his mouth as his eyes met Richie’s.

“What? What's up buddy?” Richie asked, concerned.

“I fucked your mom,” Eddie laughed. As he closed his eyes, Richie watched the ink on both their arms fade.

Richie cradled Eddie in his arms, tears down his eyes, barely catching his breath. His tears as he tried to run back to the house to take back the love of his life. For so many years, he had gone without seeing Eddie, without even remembering him. The night he left Derry, he knew what he would be leaving, and he left anyway. Now, he remembered every kiss and conversation. He knew he did one thing right: he was able to keep him smiling.

[trickkombowerskru]

House Party Blues-Patrick Hockstetter Imagine

Request: No here is the 25th and final day of the 25 days of trickkombowerskru! which goes to my girl @inickel​ and she wanted a Patrick imagine about  how he likes this girl, she likes him, but neither of them want to admit it. So they always try to make each other jealous, until one day they are at a house party, and he brings a girl that she doesn't like, and he did that cause he knew it would set her off. and end the end she takes patrick from her enemy, and they ditch the party together.

A/N: Merry Christmas to all of you guys who celebrate I hope it was great and to those who don’t I hope you just had a great day in general. Also since this is posted and the event is now done I will be working on ALL the requests I have received during -and some before oops- it that I held off on so those will be posted soon.

Warnings:None

You and Patrick had this unspoken sort of game. He knew you were into him, but he loved to make you squirm about it, without acting on his own interest in you. So causal flirting, winks, stolen glances, and of course watching the other’s reaction when you talk to other people.

You thought so far you had a higher place on the scoreboard after flirting with Henry in front of him, feeling up his arms, and holding on to them as you laughed at some lame jokes he told, but tonight he had you beat by a million.

Sure it may have been wrong to flirt with Henry, but at least they were friends, tonight at Mikey Henderson’s party in he walked with Amber Sanchez on his arm, and the second you saw it, your blood started to boil.

You and Amber had pretty much been sworn enemies since like the second grade when she got you in trouble on the class field trip to the Derry museum. The hatred only continued after she joined Greta Bowie’s pack of bitches. All three of which lived to torment you or at least try, sure Greta and Samantha Harris were annoying, but you could deal with them.

Amber on the other hand was a whole other level of getting on your last nerve. It wasn’t like he did it to be naive and make you causally jealous either, you knew Patrick was very strategic, and that the entire school was aware of your rivalry.

Seeing them together pissed you off more than anything, you were about to head over to them when you heard her whiny obnoxious voice.

“Hey Paaaaaaat can you get me a drink Baby?”

And in a very un-Patrick like manor you saw him head to the kitchen. You followed, straight on his heels in need of answers.

“Okay what the fuck?” you demand.

“What?” he asks trying to play dumb.

“You know what. Why the hell are you here with her?”

“What I can’t get a date to a party?”, he continues, keeping up the act.

“Oh you can get a date, just not with that bitch.”

“Does it bother you Princess?”, he questions, now dropping the act with a smirk on his face.

“God you’re such an asshole!,”you exclaim, he simply just chuckles as you shake your head at him.

You see his eyes travel down your face and to your lips, before he can get any further down your body, you just lean in and kiss him. It’s a bit desperate, but shit does it feel good, at least a year’s worth of tension melting away with it.

“That was your plan wasn’t it, bring her here to get me to crack?”

He puts his arms around your neck.

“Why else would I have put up with her?”

“You’re the worst.,” you joke smiling at him.

“Yeah yeah yeah, let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Yeah.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know the diner, the quarry, the movies, anywhere but this lame ass party, where that bitch can’t find us,” he states, making it your turn to chuckle.

You took his hand and walked out, making sure Amber could see you, she was demanding he come back, and called you a man stealer, but you just kept on walking.

You ended up at the diner, simply sharing a rather large slice of their famous apple pie, before going to the quarry and spending the rest of the night talking, and making out. It was simple as far as dates go, and you were even surprised Patrick had put in even a bit of thought into it, but it was much more fun than that party could’ve ever been.

The night ends with him actually walking you home, of course you figured he had alternative motives, which he did, you didn’t end up giving in fully to him, but he did spend the night with you. Despite his many attempts to try and hook up, all you gave him was some more making out and some groping.

It was followed by him climbing out your window the next morning before your mom came in to wake you up. You ended up waking up with the biggest smile on your face because of it all.

Thus began the start of you sneaking around with Patrick, until your parent’s caught you and you had to get him to play nice to meet them as your boyfriend officially.

[meowxerz]

MLB Secret Santa 2019

So gabriel and marinette … haha yeah right. My secret santa was… … … @3laxx!! I wasn’t familiar with you coming into this so when I did some sleuthing I was - a little - intimidated, by what you’ve made, but I got over it. This was supposed to be DJWIFI, and then I got sidetracked, and then I tried to reel it back in. I hope you enjoy :)))

Operation: Enough of these Love Square Shenanigans

“Adrien likes someone else…”

After being unusually quiet all day, Alya had managed to finally steer Marinette away from everyone, into an empty classroom, and speak to her in private … but this, was more than she was expecting. Alya felt her heart stiffen as she watched her friend’s face drop towards the ground. She realized that her far-away looks, and distant behavior all morning, had been loss. 

“Oh my … Marinette I had no idea …” She wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace; Marinette breathed a sigh of relief as she let herself sink into Alya’s arms.

“I just don’t know what to do” Marinette started in a small voice, “I feel so conflicted, I don’t know what to feel; part of me is devastated to hear that he likes someone and can’t help but imagine … another part of me is disgusted with myself that I would even begin to think down those lines. I keep telling myself that I should be happy for him; happy that he’s casting off his shell of isolation and has found someone who makes him ha-” Her voice broke as she began to choke out tears and Alya squeezed her tighter.

Alya glanced around the room and spotted a pair of chairs nearby. Taking Marinette by the hand she slowly led her over and sat her down. 

“Look Marinette, I can’t imagine how much it hurts but,” Alya said placing her hands on both of Marinette’s shoulders, “I am here for you. It’s okay to be sad, let it all out; you don’t have to be some stoic hero whose smile never falters; life hits you hard sometimes, and unexpectedly.”

She paused, looking for the right words to say, “The truth of the matter is that not everybody in life is going to reciprocate feelings, it might not feel fair, but they’re under no obligation towards you. I’m glad that you can be happy for Adrien, because that shows how truly kind you are Marinette, you deserve the world, but maybe … “ She hesitated, feeling the weight of her next words sit on her tongue, “ maybe Adrien isn’t the one who’s going to give it to you.”

Marinette looked up and made a pained smile, “Thanks Alya, but I don’t know if there’s anyone else right now for me.”

Alya winced internally, she threw up her arms, “Girl,” she called out in an exaggerated tone, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been stealing glances at Luka.” She gave her friend a playful push on the arm, “Adrien’s not the only boy you were terrible about hiding your feelings for.” Marinette couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as the tension in the air dissipated. “It’s clear that you have some feelings for Luka,” Alya teased out, “and I think, you know, that he has feelings for you,” she added wagging her finger. She poked Marinette on the nose as her friend made a pouting face.

 “Why not give it a chance, you never know what could happen,” She continued with a grin, watching her words slowly win Marinette over, “the worst thing you could do now, is not tell Luka about how you feel, and regret it later.”

A pause followed as her words sank into the room. Alya watched with a nervous anticipation, hoping that she had gotten through. Her worries were silenced as Marinette looked up and smiled, “Thanks Alya, you always know what to say when I need you the most.”

“Girl” Alya said dragging out her tone again, “What do you think best friends are for!?”

“You’re right.” 

Alya watched the brightness fill Marinette’s eyes as she resolved herself to a new purpose but then saw a confusion fall over her face.  

“… so how do I tell Luka how I feel? I’ve never actually gotten that far before.”

“It’s easy, I’ll set you two up on a date, and when the moment’s right, you’ll feel it.”

“I’ll just feel it?”

“Mmhm”

“But how will I know? What if I’m not sure and I miss it? Oh everything will be ruined and - “

“Relax girl, you’re thinking to hard about it, it’s something you’ve just got to trust me on.”

“Ok.”

~ ~ ~

“This is Carapace copy Rena 1 2, over, krrrsch.”

Today was finally the day for Marinette’s date with Luka and to make sure that everything went over smoothly Alya had enlisted some help. 

“Nino we’re using smartphones, there’s no static.”

“Please use the designated callsigns over, krrrsch.”

Alya let out a small grin, why did he always have to be like this.

“This is Rena copy, do you have eyes on the targets over?”

“Krrrsch.”

Did he really just- “This is Carapace copy, I have eyes on Speechless and Guitar Boy over. Krrrsch”

“Is it really necessary to call Marinette speechless? She’s not with Adrien over.”

…

… 

Alya sighed, “krrsch.”

“Negatory Rena, we discussed this during our mission briefing, and please only use the designated callsigns over. Krrsch”

Alya shook her head at her partners “Roger that over. krrsch.”

As Alya had suspected, Luka didn’t need any convincing when she asked him if he wanted to go on a date with Marinette. What had surprised her, was him asking if Marinette was okay. He mentioned that he thought Marinette liked Adrien which Alya should’ve realized was blatantly obvious. Still, his immediate an almost uncanny grasp of Marinette’s situation warmed her heart.

Alya stopped her thought, they were on the move. “Copy Carapace over. krrsch.”

“I’m all ears over, krrsch.”

“The targets have left the meetup area, follow and observe but be subtle and keep your distance, we do not want them to know about us over.”

“Copy that Rena, trailing the targets now over.”

And so Alya and Nino followed Marinette and Luka as the made their way throughout the city. She had given Luka specific instructions on the best ways to avoid the large Agreste Fashion Design posters that were plastered all throughout the city and so far everything was going according to plan. It was Nino - Carapace - who saw the first big obstacle. 

“Rena do you copy over, krrsch”

“Copy Carapace what do you see over. Krrsch.”

“I have eyes on Royal Pain, she is by the canal and is on a course to make contact with our quarry, requesting plan of action over, krsch”

Royal Pain, Rena had to pause as she tried to decode Carapace’s callsigns - it must be Chloe. That would be an issue, sure she wasn’t with Adrien, but Chloe would be sure to try and ruin Marinette’s day for her. 

“Carapace can you lead Chl- Royal Pain away over. Krrsch”

“I can try, though I’m not sure how over, krsch.”

Rena smiled as a plan was already beginning to form in her mind. Speechless and Guitar Boy were still around the corner so they wouldn’t have seen Royal Pain yet, she just needed a reason that would get her moving.  “Here’s the plan: you run over to Royal Pain and describe some ‘emergency’ involving Adrien, nothing too elaborate, just something that Chloe can ‘fix,’ that should take her away from Marinette. Meanwhile I’ll provide overwatch and slow down Speechless and Guitar Boy if necessary over.”

“Copy that over, krsch.”

Alya watched as Nino darted out from cover and rounded the corner, meanwhile it looked like Marinette and Luka had stopped to look at something. She smiled as she heard through muffled audio Nino concocting a story for Chloe and making a fuss. Meanwhile she moved in order to be able to see both Nino and Marinette. But when she got into position she saw another complication approaching them: Adrien. 

She let out a small gasp of frustration as she watched as Adrien walked up and joined the conversation between Nino and Chloe. Nino appeared to be faltering and she could hear Chloe’s venomous, though in this case not unfounded, accusations. Even worse, she turned back towards Luka and Marinette and saw that they were beginning to move on. Any second now they would round the corner and even worse now, bump into Chloe and Adrien, the two worst people for Marinette to see, albeit for different reasons. 

Then like a miracle, she watched as they all parted, with Chloe and Adrien walking away in the other direction and Nino slipping back into cover; just in time as well, Marinette and Luka rounded the corner just as everyone disappeared from sight. Alya let out a low sigh of relief.

“Nino what did you tell them?”

“I just told them the truth, about you not wanting Marinette to see them; Adrien looked a little hurt but I think he understood, I’m going to talk to him about it later tonight and make sure there’s no bad feelings. Chloe gave a solid hmph though I think she looked like she might’ve been happy for Marinette… that or she was glad that she was competing over Adrien anymore.”

After so much excitement, the rest of the date remained uneventful - which Alya was grateful for. As Marinette and Luka seemed to settle down in a park, she met back up with Nino.

“Thanks for your help today Nino, it really means a lot.” She turned towards him but he was looking up at the sky. 

“Hey Alya, did you check the weather for today?”

Shhii- Alya turned her head towards the sky and silently reprimanded herself. She had been so focused on the date that she had completely missed the gray clouds which had slowly been taking over the sky; now, they looked as if they threatened to storm. Too late, Alya felt her arm dampen as the first flakes of snow from the sky landed on her. This was bad, she had to think of something “alya,” fast before the end of the date was ruined. If that happened then the whole first part of the date could have “Alya”, been for nothing. Think Alya think, what is the best course of action to take to make sure that Marinette and Luka don’t get “Alya!”

Alya snapped out of her thoughts, Nino had his hand on her shoulder.

“Goodness, you must’ve been thinking pretty hard just now huh?” 

Alya gave a wordless nod.

“Well don’t worry, I think it’s gonna be just fine.” He motioned back towards Marinette and Luka and Alya couldn’t help but smile at what she saw. Luka had led Marinette underneath a nearby tree where they were sitting and had some protection from the snow; and now, he was taking off his jacket and wrapping it around Marinette who seemed to be protesting the whole ordeal. Alya watched as they struggled for a few moments, Luka, attempting to bed the perfect gentleman, and Marinette refusing that her friend give up his own warmth for her sake. Finally she saw Luka laugh and whisper something into Marinette’s ear, whatever it was must’ve worked because Marinette stopped struggling. She watched as Luka put the jacket back over himself but then wrapped up Marinette on the inside before zipping it up. Marinette was sitting in his lap in order to fit and Alya watched as they leaned their heads on each other.

“I think Luka has the one covered.” Nino said with a small laugh. “As for you,” he continued, “I’d better get you out of here before it starts snowing harder, I can’t have you getting sick on me now can I? Let’s leave those two love birds alone.” He started to tug on her arm but then stopped. “Your body,” he cried softly, “It’s too cold, must, warm you up, somehow,” he muttered before pulling her into a kiss. Alya tried to hide her surprise but was caught off guard by his sudden actions.

“You think that was clever?” She said finally pulling away.

“Mmhm,” Nino replied with a grin. 

Alya gave a dramatic sigh, “And you called them the love birds huh?” Nino started to raise a protest but Alya silenced him with another kiss. “Let’s go home lover boy.”

[imagine-riverdale]

Shy-Sweet Pea Imagine

Thank you again @riverdaleserpentgirl for requesting this. Here you go!

Summary: After the merge of Southside High and Riverdale High, Sweet Pea began dating Amelia “Mia” Pierce, a very shy Northsider, who loves reading.

 Mia Pierce didn’t talk to many people, it took a lot for her to open up. Even at a young age Mia had a very hard time meeting and talking to new people, her parents tried everything they could to get the girl to open up, but nothing worked. Being from one of the richest families in Riverdale it was hard for her parents to understand that she was shy, so they attempted to force her into socializing, which ended making her pull away even more. Now at 16, Mia barely talked, mostly stayed in her room and read. Until Sweet Pea came into her life. She had been friends with Betty for years and when Southside High closed Jughead introduced them all to the Serpents.

It was in Biology that Sweet Pea got to talk to Mia. The two ended up being partnered up for a project and Mia slowly started opening up to him, it wasn’t long after that he plucked up the courage and asked her out, much to Fangs and Toni’s protests of saying she was boring.

-

“Come on Sweet Pea, we’re all going to the Quarry tonight, you can’t miss out again.” Fangs stated while standing outside of Sweet Pea’s trailer that Friday night.

“I have plans with Mia.” He stated while he worked on his bike.

“Man, you always have plans with Mia. What could you guys possibly be doing when she doesn’t even talk?” Fangs asked annoyed that his best friend would rather spend time with a girl than him.

“It’s that exact reason she doesn’t talk to you.” Sweet Pea stated sending a pointed look at his friend who seemed to be getting more and more irritated every time Sweet Pea decided to spend his Fridays with Mia. “She doesn’t talk to you because you don’t give her the chance man.” Sweet Pea stood up from his bike and wiped his hands on a rang her hand hanging off the handles. “She’s shy, you have to give her time to open up.” He stated noticing Mia’s car pulling down the street into Sunnyside Trailer park. “I wish you could at least pretend to get along with her.” He stated walking over to the car and giving a rare smile to the girl as he opened her door for her. “Hey.” Mia climbed out of the car with a few books in her arms.

“Hi.” She said softly, her eyes darting to Fangs before returning to Sweet Pea. “Are you going somewhere?” She asked softly before shutting the door to her car.

“Everyone’s going to the Quarry, I turned them down because we already had plans.” He stated.

“Well, I’m going.” Fangs stated getting on his bike and leaving.

“I’ve got to finish working on my bike then we can go get food or something.” Mia nodded and was silent a minute while Sweet Pea and she walked over to his bike. “We can go if you want.” She stated while Sweet Pea was leaning down looking at his bike.

“What?” He glanced over at her curiously.

“We can go to the Quarry, I’ve got some books, and you can see your friends.” She told him as he stood from the bike and wiped his hands off again.

“Baby.” He sighed. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Said Sweet Pea as he walked over to where she stood by a lone lawn chair.

“I won’t be.” Mia smiled at him. “I’ll have you, I’ll be fine Sweets, come on.” She said softly. “I want to go, I want to try and get to know your friends.”

“Alright, let me just finish this.” Sweet Pea spent the next hour fixing his bike before grabbing a blanket for Mia and the two rode down to the Quarry. The Serpents were surprised to see Sweet Pea and especially Mia, but they all welcomed them, Mia stayed close to Sweet Pea until they got closer to the bonfire where Fangs, Toni, and Jughead were.

“You decided to show?” Toni asked grabbing him a beer.

“Mia wanted to.” He stated setting a hand on the small of Mia’s back and guiding her to a chair. They all hung out for a while before some of the older Serpents showed up. Sweet Pea was holding Mia in his lap whilst she read a book, the two were comfortable, Sweet Pea was talking with Fangs and a few other Serpents before someone came and told him that someone wanted him. “I’ll be back.” He whispered in Mia’s ear before kissing it. He had stood up, set Mia back in the chair and covered her back up with the blanket, Mia glanced up and sent him a small smile before going back to her book. Whilst Sweet Pea was away Jughead came and took a seat next to Mia.

“You know you could get to know his friends better if you put the book away.” Jughead stated causing Mia to look up at him then look at Fangs and Toni before turning her gaze back to Jughead.

“They don’t want to get to know me Jug.” Mia spoke softly closing her book. “They’ve had the chance.” She stated as Jughead nodded.

“From what I’ve heard from Toni, Sweet Pea doesn’t date. You have to give them more time.” Mia just nodded before her eyes found where Sweet Pea was hanging out with Fangs and Toni.

“We’ve been together for three months Jug, I don’t know how much more time to give them.” She said softly. Mia went back to her book for a while, Sweet Pea periodically checking on her. After some time, Mia looked and saw that it was almost ten, knowing she had to be home shortly she looked around for Sweet Pea. Once she spotted her boyfriend having fun with a bunch of Serpents, she made her way towards him. “Sweets.” She said softly stepping next to him and touching his arm.

“What’s up?” He turned to Mia and gave her his full attention.

“It’s almost ten, I have to get home.” Mia spoke just so Sweet Pea could hear her.

“Alright, come on.” He set an arm around her shoulder before turning his head to the others. “We’re gonna bounce.” Everyone bid him a goodbye before the two left. “We’re still on for movie night tomorrow?” Sweet Pea asked once they arrived back at his trailer so Mia could get her car.

“Yeah, around three, right?” She asked standing by the door of her car.

“Three.” He nodded. “I’ll pick you up,”

“How about I meet you here, I can drop Betty off on our way home from Greendale, then I can come here. I’ll bring the snacks.”

“Okay, if I’m not here, just go in.” He said as Mia had nodded and Sweet Pea kissed her and gave her the key to his trailer before sending her on her way.

-

The next day Mia hung out with Betty, the two went to Greendale to go to a bookstore and stopped for lunch on their way back.

“How are things between you and Sweet Pea?” Betty asked while Mia was drinking a cup of tea.

“Great, things are great.” She nodded.

“Are you getting along with Toni and Fangs yet?” She asked as Mia sighed and shook her head.

“Every time I try to talk to them I either freeze up or they ignore me. They don’t like me Betty.”

“They’ll come around.” Betty assured her friend and after awhile the two drove back to Riverdale.

-

Mia arrived at Sweet Pea’s and quickly grabbed all the things she needed before heading inside the trailer. Noticing his bike gone, she let herself in and shrieked upon seeing Toni and Fangs lounging on the couch.

“You scared me.” Mia said picking her things up off the floor and heading into the kitchen to put them away.

“So, you just let yourself in whenever you want now?” Fangs asked following her to the kitchen.

“Uh, no.” Mia shook her head and spoke softly as she put the almond milk in the fridge. “But Sweets gave me a key so I could come in if he wasn’t here.” She finished putting her groceries away and turned around, Toni and Fangs both giving her dirty looks.

“So, why are you here anyway?” Toni asked. “Sweet Pea won’t be home for another hour.”

“I know, he told me to let myself in. We’re having movie night, you’re welcome to join.” Mia told them as she moved to the counter and grabbed her book before heading to the chair and sitting down. Mia sat there reading for twenty minutes before Toni spoke again.

“Do you do anything other than read?” She asked the shy girl, Mia closed her book and looked at Toni.

“I do.” She nodded. “I’m not good with new people or big groups.” She told them softly. “I understand the two of you are weary of me and I get it.” Mia sat up slightly. “I don’t blame you, you don’t know me, and that’s partially my fault. But I’d like to change that. You’re both a huge part of Sweet Pea’s life and I can’t continue being with him if his best friends don’t like me, because I know at some point he’d have to choose one or the other, and I’d want him to choose you guys.” Mia rambled on. “I’ve never met someone like him.”

“What, like a Serpent?” Toni had taken it the wrong way.

“No, someone like him, meaning someone who cares about me, genuinely, and doesn’t want to change me. My whole life everyone has been more concerned with changing who I am.” Mia ran a hand through her hair before continuing. “I love him, Serpent and all. I’m sorry if you think I’m taking him away from you, but that was never my intent. Jughead said you guys felt like I was stealing him, I can back of some if you’d like.” Toni and Fangs were quiet. “But I can’t say I’m going to stop being with him,” Mia went to say more but the front door opened and in walked Sweet Pea.

“Hey.” He nodded at everyone, immediately going over to Mia and kissing her.

“Stop it Pea.” She said blushing as she pushed him away causing him to chuckle.

“What are you two doing here?” He turned to Toni and Fangs while sitting on the arm of Mia’s chair. “You bugging my girl?” He joked as Toni rolled her eyes.

“No, we were talking.” Mia said softly as she put her hand on his leg.

“Yeah, we were actually wondering if you two wanted to hang out tomorrow.” Fangs said sending Mia a smile. “So, we can get to know each other better.” Sweet Pea looked to his girlfriend and gave her a smile.

“We’d love to.” Mia told them as Sweet Pea wrapped an arm around his girlfriend.

“Now get out.” Sweet Pea cracked a smile as he nodded towards the door. “We have plans, and no offence, but I don’t want you here for what I have in mind.” Fangs made a disgusted face before he stood along with Toni and the two left.

 With the weeks to come Mia opened up more with Toni and Fangs, the two eventually learning that Mia was actually a good person. The three became friends easily, so easily that Sweet Pea began to get jealous whenever Mia was hanging out with Toni instead of him. But he soon realized it was good for Mia and his relationship. Mia was still shy in most social situations even when Sweet Pea was around. But who’s to say being shy’s a bad thing?

 Oh my gosh. I have been writing this for weeks and I REALLY am not sure on the ending but I needed to finish something this week. So here you go, I’d love your feedback. I kinda changed the direction I was originally going, I have a second one that I was also working on for the same request but this one came to me easier. I may still upload the other, but I guess we’ll see.

As always, thank you so much for reading.

-M.T.

 REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR ALL RIVERDALE CHARACTERS