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elliespassagerprincess · 10 days ago

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Would it be possible for you to do anything about Dina? Totally fine if not, I just never see anything about her at all 😭

If so, would you be able to do something about R just being reeeally protective towards her, almost akin to like- a guard dog or something . Just always following her around, hard to not find Dina without them , literally the nicest to Dina but as soon as anyone gets in the way they’re all glares and ugly looks.

But Dina has no idea what people are talking about when they bring it up to her, because what do you mean ?? They’re so sweet!

And maybe she does know and just chooses to do nothing about it because she finds it cute or funny.

(also really glad you’re back, make sure you still feel like you can take time for yourself tho!)

Guard dog - (Dina x reader)

Hi anon! thank you for this request! We need more Dina fics. Justice for Dina lol. Thank you for your kind message.... i hope you enjoy<33

Pairing: dina x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: none

Summary: In which you protected her

authors note: part 2?

masterlist

Dina shivered as she walked into Ellies house. She quickly shut the door behind her, trying to not let anymore of the cold air in.

Dina hated winter. When it started snowing in Jackson she would gather as much food as she could and she would stay in the warmth her house. She would not leave for anything. She would wrap herself in blankets and she'll sit in front of the fireplace in her home.

The only time anyone would ever see Dina during winter is when the snow starts to smelt and flowers start blooming again.

Dina slipped off her jacket as she wrapped her arms around herself. Despite Dina practically hugging herself she still felt cold.

Maybe you'd be able to keep her warm.

No.

fuck.

She cant think of you in that way.

You were just friends.

Just friends.

'But friends don't cuddle. Friends don't shower together. friends don't-'

Dina's thoughts were interrupted by Ellie's voice: "fucking finally"

Before Dina could talk she heard Jesse say: "we know you hate the cold but you took like 5 fucking hours to get here"

"you guys are being overdramatic" Dina rolled her eyes as she took of her boots.

It's been a while since the 3 of them hung out alone.

Ellie was always hooking up with someone, Jesse was always patrolling and Dina was always with you.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring your girl with" Jesse told her with a smirk.

Dina's brows furrowed "my girl?"

"yeah" Ellie laughed.

"your guard dog"

"guard dog?" Dina asked in confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Ellie and Jesse's jaws hung open.

"You don't see it?"

"see what?"

"dude you're stupid" Jesse sighs.

You and Dina had gotten ready together. The two of were walking down the road and you held onto her arm gently.

Dina would never admit it out loud but she liked it when you did that. She liked it when you were so close to her. It made her feel safe.

You checked the surroundings while keeping an eye on Dina. Even though Jackson was extremely safe you still couldn't help looking after her.

You were subtle in the way you cared for her. You liked Dina a lot, and you had hoped that she'd catch on. It's been years and she still hasn't noticed anything.

To protect your friendship you decided to settle on just looking after her.

You were possessive, protective over what you wanted. But clearly Dina noticed nothing so your actions were in vain. (Or so you thought).

Dina walked into the bar first and she felt your presence close behind her. (You always followed her around and when the two of you were separated you still kept and eye on her)

Rumors spread around Jackson that the two of you were dating.

Dina has heard them. She liked the rumors hoping that any girl interested in you would believe it and leave you alone but she also doesn't know who or what the source of the rumors were.

She didn't realize it, but it was you. The way you looked at her, protected her, you scared everyone away from her. She didn't see it.

Fucking idiot.

Dina went to Ellie and she hugged her. You stayed close behind her glaring at the two.

'You can't be jealous. It's not fair' you kept telling yourself.

The feelings you had for Dina just grew stronger and stronger and they were threatening to reveal themselves.

Dina slid into the booth first and you slid in after, immediately wrapping your arm around her shoulder glaring at anyone who even looks at her.

Ellie stared at scene before her. There was clearly something going on between the two of you but you both denied it.

Ellie thought you were both really stupid.

The conversation flowed easily between the three of you, but eventually Dina had to go to the bathroom. You moved out the booth and Dina made her way to the bathroom.

"Hi"

Dina's head turned to see a beautiful red head giving her a small smile.

"hi" Dina smiled shyly.

"my name is-"

Before she could even utter her name you walked in

"There you are" you said as you walked towards her ignoring the girl.

You took Dina's hand and you looked at the girl.

"Sorry" she muttered and she walked away.

Dina frowned "why was she saying sorry"

You glared at the girl before you turned back to Dina, your grip on her hand tightened.

"I don't know" you shrugged as you kissed her temple.

"She was just protecting me" Dina's blushed.

"protecting you? All she had to do was pee on you to mark her territory because damn"

Dina felt butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Maybe there was more to your behavior

"It was probably a one time thing" Dina argued.

"one time?" Jesse said dramatically.

"She's always holding you. A arm around your shoulders or waist, she never leaves you alone, she follows you around like a dog... she's in love with you!"

Dina drowned out Ellie and Jesse's voices.

Everything she heard can't be a coincidence right.... right?

She wrapped her arms around herself once again

Maybe you were just protective.

But maybe, just maybe you felt the same way.

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christinebloodwrittings · 2 years ago

Text

Something exactly like this

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, police brutality.

Words: 1401

Chapter 2: Have a good one, punk.

Taglist: @lavnderluv @xoxobabe

I got up early, walked to the nearest police station and practically impose that they brought the police officer that hit me without a reason. I managed to get to his superior, explained the situation, placed the evidence and the badge number I memorized. He apologized for the inconvenient, but he refused to make justice on the officer, though I wasn't expecting him to, really, I'm not that naive. I just wanted to be in peace with it.

A good night sleep and two days off work worked like a charm! Due to the bullet wound I couldn't move very swiftly, so I sent my boss photos when it was fresh and bleeding so he would leave me alone for a while, blood makes him sick, talk about an opportunity well taken.

The cut was closed but it still hurt a lot, not enough for me to complain much about it, but if I looked too much at it or stepped too harshly, boy it stung.

"Welcome to Shot's, what can I get you?" I tried to keep myself as calm as I could, but every word that came out of my mouth seemed to catch on fire in the air.

"Y/n dearie, you seem...pissed" my manager approached me attempting a soothing attitude, "Just a bad couple of days, sir, I'll try to swallow it" he shook his head, "With that wound, even I would be in an awful mood, just try to take it as easy as you can, and would you call Jess? She's late again" I sighed, she's an usual at being late, so it was normal for her to send me a message with a lame excuse, all because she fell asleep or her boyfriend is banging her.

"Sorry sorry, so so sorry Y/n" she rushed through the back entrance, collided against the counter, and attempted to hug me but I stepped away, "I heard the manager say you were injured in the raid, I'm sorry honey" That's all she had to say?

"Busy" I whispered and continued pouring coffee for an old lady, when I was finished she corned me at the restocking, "But how are ya'? How did it go with Hobie?" She had the face of a puppy after given it a treat, "You mean after you fucking bailed on me and left me alone? Been better, but what do you mean?" She was stunned, "Wait you guys seriously didn't do shit? That was the whole meaning of the setup!" I was flabbergasted, not precisely anger, but I felt lied to and inclined to punch her in the face.

"The what?" I asked and she immediately regret her words, "Well I thought you could use a boyfriend, and what more cool than someone completely opposite from you?" I wanted to slap the ton of makeup off of her face.

"You mean you wanted me to date an anarchist, crazy enough to go to a raid, who puts his life in danger over the cause every day, fucked up, probably drug user, punk?" In all honesty, he didn't look half as bad, but still not the point.

"Fact number one, everything right but he doesn't do drugs" at least that's a point to his favor, "And two, yes he's a punk, but a kind hearted one, I've known him for a long while now, gotta trust my gut" Now she was going to get the slap for sure.

"Either way, I'm not that desperate, if I wanted to find a guy, I would've already done it" internal slay because it was true, but I was too much of a package to handle.

"You should consider hanging out with Hobie, you two would make a hell of a match" I sighed, she was insisting far too much, "Not intrested, and you're overselling it" thank whatever in existence the manager appeared, "Y/n dear, when you can, I need those boxes to the back, just put them by the trash can" I nodded.

A last glance to Jess's sorry face made me ease my temper, at least she didn't do it with bad intentions, she's just a horrible matchmaker.

I dropped the boxes by accident. When trying to take them all without bending the knee, some ended up further away from my reach, and to top it off my shoe slipped and my bandaged knee hit the concrete. By sheer luck I avoided screaming in pain, my pulse went down to the injured area.

"Need help?" I looked up and it's no other than Spiderpunk, upside down, while holding one of the boxes that went away, "Stalking much?" I smiled, "What is it with you and greetings? Hey there Spider-Punk, how's it hangin'?" He left the box with the others and stretched his hand for me to take.

"Literally hanging, it seems" I sassed him back while standing up, luckly he was so strong. "Now where is it?" He inclined his head towards mine, "What are you talking about?" I scoffed, taking a second to think, and then it hit me. "Well, I saved you from hard work" this man should be a comedian, "Bullshit, but nice try" he snaped his fingers like when a cartoon couldn't do something, "Worth it".

"But you know? It's true, how are you, punk?" I swear I could sense his smile, "Good, how's the leg?" I shrugged, "It would hurt if I tried to kick someone's ass, so you got away, for now" I got closer, just to tease him out, but it backfired, "I would love, to see you try lil' darling".

He was so close I could feel his breath coming out of the mask. I laughed, maybe because he was way more sassy than I anticipated, or embarrassment. The sound of angry customers brought my atention to the door, and I knew it was time to go.

"Have a nice day, punk" I walked a few steps away when he somehow got landed and got enough seconds to grab my hand, "Thought we could chat or somethin', but luck forbid we have a decent encounter right?" He snickered, "Some of us have actual jobs, ya know?" I noticed, he wasn't letting go, but me neither.

"Then" he got closer, his chest inches from me "Some other time?" His fingers got a better grip of my hand, not quite tight, but firm.

"I leave at eight, and curfew starts at ten, you work it around those hours" at ten precisely, the police start the patroll, and they shoot or grab whatever that moves that isn't uniformed.

"Fuck curfew, pigs can suck my arse" I honesty believed him, "Sure, but I won't risk a beating and getting myself violated in the slammer, not all of us have super powers to get away" and all that trouble for his deviant ass? Maybe...

"Yeah, so can I stop at yours?" Why his grip got tighter? And why he's so warm?! Help. I'll be the envy of the groupies that love this guy, like Jess.

But will it be too much of a risk?

"Don't know if I should let an anarchist, the number one enemy of police and the government, inside my house" also wouldn't like to find out what would they do to me if they catch me with such a celebrity.

"I'll bring some crisps then" oh well, what the hell then.

"I'll leave my window open" where did that even come form, that came out way more flirty than intended! Fuck!

I tried to get away but he still had my hand, "You still owe me a kiss" is he serious?

"I don't think I was in certain death just now"

"Does it have to?" He asks. I mean does it have to be certain death? Hope not.

"You act as if you needed it" he got closer, was that even posible? "Jus' like to settle that debt" he placed his hand on a safe area of my waist, putting no pressure into it.

I hunmed and let go of his hand, "Then I'll keep owing you" reaching for the door I heard him ask, "Why's that?" I smiled, already on the other side of the door.

"So you keep it as an excuse" And what an exit, I was actually so proud of myself, but my embarrassment got over me and my face started to heat up.

Damn that masked man!

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie my beloved #spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse

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ariadnes-red-thread · 2 years ago

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HELLO!!!!

is me again hehe <3

lately, i've been thinking about how Jesse and how his strong devotion and loyalty translates into a relationship. so i was thinkingggggg, a scenario where Jesse needs to be walked of the edge of a heated situation and needs reassurance that he's it for reader. that he's the man reader wants to be with and will stand be his side.

can be either SFW or NSFW (with agender reader with female parts??? that would make me so happy) what ever is sparking your lovely imagination.

so appreciate and love and am grateful i found your beautiful writing and met such an amazing person <3

Mythos, my dear! Thank you so much for the ask!! I saw your second ask too and I hope I’ve done your beautiful request justice. Jesse is so passionate but that’s exactly what we love about him and the idea of being able to show him that when he was feeling insecure is exactly what he deserves! I completely got carried away with this and ended up writing over 2.5k words (although it’s never enough for Jesse!). I hope you like it! Thank you for celebrating with me, love!

Pairing: Jesse x GN!/Anatomically Female Reader

Warnings: General Creepiness, Threats of Violence, Canon-Typical content, Self-Doubt, Explicit Sexual Content *MINORS DNI*

You finally made it to the bar on a particularly busy night at 79’s. It was way more work than it should have been for a glass of water, but the dance floor that Jesse had kept you glued to all night was hot, and you were parched.

You could still see him through the crowd. His cog tattoo and shaved head helped him stand out among his identical brothers. That and you’d be able to spot his grin anywhere. He was in his civies tonight, a black t-shirt and his lone pair of jeans. Jesse always looked good, but you enjoyed your current vantage point and took a moment to check out the handsome man. You had only been on dating for a few months. Your friend had been hot and heavy with Fives since the moment she met the goateed clone. It had taken her a few tries to convince you to join them on a double date with one of his brothers who Fives insisted you’d like. You hadn’t been expecting much, not because you didn’t like Fives, but simply because you didn’t imagine someone like him could be your type. Jesse had swept you off your feet, though. You hadn’t admitted it to him yet, but you were falling fast. His endearing charm, constant sarcasm, lighthearted take on life, the passion that burned bright through him, and the kindness and understanding he always showed you made it easy to fall. You watched him move under the neon lights, and you felt a wide smile creep across your face. Jesse always seemed to put that smile there.

So it was Jesse and the lights and the music’s fault that you didn’t notice a crowd of people behind you until one of them stumbled into your back. You spun around, ready to apologize for taking up precious bar space before you realized it was a group of nat-borns. Instantly, your defense went up.

It wasn’t often that other civilians wandered into 79’s, and the ones that did were usually there to cause problems. So as you eyed up the stumbling rough and rowdy group, you didn’t have to go looking to know that they were likely trouble. Unfortunately, as Jesse often liked to remind you, with a deep laugh and elbow to your ribs, trouble usually came looking for you.

“Hey,“ The tallest one slurred as he looked you up and down. “Come here often?”

“Yup.” Your reply was curt, and you hoped they would take the hint when you turned back to face the bar.

Instead, a hand came to your shoulder.

“Hey, I was talking to you.” He was suddenly close, his breath rank and hot on your face as he yanked you towards. “You think you’re too good for us.”

“Don’t touch me.” You took a full step away as you warned him.

“Slummin’ it here with all these test tube freaks.” He closed in on you again. “Let me show you what a real man can do.”

You raised your hands, about to shove him backward, when a familiar arm slid over your shoulder. Despite your guard being up, you instantly knew who was next to you.

“Problem here?”

Your eyes didn’t move from the creep, but you could hear the eternal grin on Jesse’s face. You didn’t mistake the grin for carelessness. Instead, you knew it was just Jesse. He was always calm until he wasn’t.

“Ahh, I see. No problem.” The man stumbled back into his friends before muttering under his breath. “Freak fucker.”

“What did you call them?”

Your head snapped up at the sudden change in tone in Jesse’s voice. He wasn’t grinning anymore. His hand left your shoulder as he began to stiffen at your side. The man didn’t realize his mistake as he kept hurling insults your way.

“They’re just another slut for you meat droids. The Republic needs to end the war so they can take you all out with the trash.”

In split seconds, Jesse lept past you. He swung, his fist connecting with the creep’s jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He threw another jab, catching the man with a blow to the nose before he stumbled out of Jesse’s reach.

Your stomach dropped as one of the friends lunged for Jesse, whose gaze was still on the instigator. But never one to be caught off guard, Jesse side-stepped the second man in the same moment he spun, landing a uppercut into the man’s stomach.

You balled your fists, ready to follow Jesse when another hand came to your shoulder. You cocked a fist back but Kix’s voice found you before you could swing.

“You jump in, you just make it worse for him.”

You huffed in response. Kix wasn’t wrong. You knew Jesse could handle a few nat-borns by himself and he would only be distracted if you started to fight. Still, your fist stayed balled by your side.

In the next moment, a flash of red by the door caught your eye. The Courscant Guard was here. They were always close by on busy nights, keeping the peace however they had to. The three clones positioned themselves by the door. You recognized Thorn by his helmet. He posted himself in the corner, a shiny on either on side of him. You knew he wouldn’t intervene unless he had to, but if Jesse kept at it, Thorn wouldn’t have a choice.

Kix saw Thorn too. He set his jaw and dove into the fray. He emerged with an arm wrapped around Jesse’s waist, tugging the scowling man out of the scuffle. Kix turned, tossing his brother away from the seething nat-borns before he spun around to face them again.

“Get out.” Kix pointed to the door. “Or you’re going to have a lot more meat droids to deal with.”

The instigator snarled through a bloody nose and spit at Kix’s feet. Jesse yelled out and charged for the man again. You turned to face him, stepping into his path and putting your hands on his chest. Jesse looked down at you, his face instantly softening just a bit.

“Jesse - we’re leaving now.” The words were an order but your tone was gentle, hoping you could reach the part of him that had just relaxed under your palms.

He frowned, his eyes quickly back on his target. The men were rapidly retreating out the door, with side-glances thrown at the Guards in red. You felt Jesse twitch, like he wanted to chase after them.

“It’s okay, Jess.” Kix’s voice came from behind you now, calm and quiet. “Just let go it.”

“They’re not worth it.” You lifted one palm to Jesse’s face, laying it on his cheek with just enough pressure to coax him into looking at you. “Please, Jesse.”

His hand came up to your forearm, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” The words were breathy as they left his mouth. “Okay, okay. You’re right.”

You lifted to meet his lips, capturing him in a quick, grateful kiss.

He exhaled as you pulled away, breaking the brief kiss. You ran your thumb along his cheekbone, tracing the lower rim of his tattoo. Then your hand fell to find his hand at his side.

“Let’s go home.”

You tugged him towards the exit. As you pulled Jesse out of the club, you threw on glance back to search over his shoulder, quickly finding the familiar eyes of Kix. He tilted his head in question, and you nodded in reassurance. He smiled back and raised his glass in a grateful salute before he turned back to the dancefloor. Jesse followed you to the door in a daze. The adrenaline of the fight had worn off, and he hung almost limp as he drifted behind you.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Jesse was almost catatonic. His lids hung heavy over his eyes as he sank onto the edge of your bed. He hadn’t said a word since you left 79’s. You were starting to get worried. Rather than press him to talk, you went to the kitchen and got a wet washcloth. Returning to find him unmoved in the bedroom, you knelt before him. Coaxing him to take off his shoes, you placed them next to yours at the end of the bed. Then you turned your attention to his bruised knuckles. Taking his calloused hand in yours, you started to dab at the scrapped skin.

“You… you don’t have to do that.” Jesse stuttered as he finally spoke.

“I’m happy to, Jesse.” You tried to smile up at him but his sleepy gaze had turned into a wide eyed stare and it caught you off guard.

“No, I mean you shouldn’t have to do that.” He yanked his hand out of yours.

You barely had time to wonder at his sudden movement before he was up on his feet, pacing across your small bedroom.

“Jesse, talk to me.” You kept your voice gentle, not out of fear but out of caring. You wanted him to know you were there for him.

“You deserve better, you know.”

You frowned but before you could protest, Jesse spoke again, never breaking his relentless stride.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a hothead. All I know is how to fight.” Jesse ran his fingers over his broken knuckles. “You deserve more than that.”

He finally stopped his pacing as he caught his form in the full length mirror that hung on your wall. His frown grew as he studied himself.

“Look at me.” His shoulders slumped and his eyes fell to the floor. “I was bred for this. Bred to be a soldier and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

You quickly clambered to your feet. He didn’t move from his position in front of the mirror. You stood behind him, savoring his closeness for a moment. You wrapped your arms around him at his waist and pulled him in tight to you.

“I love your fire, Jesse. I love that you’re a fighter.”

He let out a single dry laugh. It was so soulless, so unlike Jesse. You held him a little closer.

“Look at you, Jesse.” You settled your head on his shoulder, stretching to peer at your combined reflections. “You want to know what I see?”

He finally raised his head, hesitantly meeting your eyes.

“I see how passionately you care, how you love so strongly that you would go to war for those you care about. Your brothers know that. They love and respect you for that. But that fire isn’t all you are.”

“You can make me smile on the hardest of days. You keep calm in far more situations than you give yourself credit for. You like to pretend you don’t care but I can see how deeply you do.” You dug your fingers into his shirt, gripping his ribs, trying to convey how much you wanted him. “Don’t ever say you’re just a soldier. You’re so much more than that, Jesse.”

Jesse’s eyes were shining as his reflection stared back at you. He took your arm from his waist and tugged you in front of him, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders folding you into his warmth. You reached up and held onto his arms like he was the only liferaft in the sea. He started to grin again. You leaned your head back into him with a sigh and a smile.

“I’m so lucky to have met you.” Jesse murmured as he kissed the top of your head.

“We’re both lucky.”

You turned your head to lay a gentle kiss on his bicep. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the smirk on his face widen just a little. He pressed a kiss to your neck. And then another. You tilted your head, giving him more access to your sensitive flesh. One of hands that laid across your chest searched out your pert nipple and began to tease it gently through the rough fabric of your shirt. You leaned back into him with a soft moan, grinding your hips against him, feeling him harden behind you. Jesse’s lips found your ear.

“Oh, cyare,” Jesse’s words were dark and husky. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

His other hand snaked its way down your front, finding the waistline of your pants. Jesse pushed the fabric aside, sinking one knuckle into your already wet center.

“See what you do to me.” You breathlessly muttered. “Jesse, I need you.”

His hands jumped to your waist to find the hem of your shirt. Gentle fingers traced a line up your side, gathering your shirt as he went. Jesse paused at your mid-waist and looked at you. You nodded, giving him permission to proceed. He whipped the top off of you in the next moment. You spun to face him, needy for the feeling of his skin on yours. You tugged at the ends of his shirt, and he quickly obliged. You ran your hands over his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin and the sturdy build of his muscles.

Jesse bent to meet you and quickly captured your lips in his, kissing you deeply. He still tasted like a hint of whiskey. His tongue swirled with yours in a bruising fury and you felt yourself craving more of him. You broke apart for a moment, both turning your attention to your pants. The last bits of clothing was quickly removed and kicked aside.

Jesse spun you around to face the mirror and then pressed his wide palm on the small of your back, coaxing you into bending over. You gave into his directions, bringing a hand to the wall on either side of the mirror. You felt him run his length along your aching slit. You let out a breathy moan as he brushed along your clitoris, your head falling and eyes closing at the glorious friction.

“Oh no, cyare,” Jesse’s back was suddenly pressed against you, and his hand was on your jaw. He guided your head back up so you were staring into his deep brown eyes.

“That’s it,” he nipped at your neck as he stood again, lining himself up. “Let me see those eyes.”

You stared up at him, meeting his dark look in the mirror. His pupils were blown. Jesse stood again, towering over you. You bit your lip as you studied the breathtaking man for the briefest moment.

Then he entered you. His member filled you, reaching your furthest depths at this angle. The ache of being so full was quickly replaced by a overwhelming pleasure as Jesse’s hand snaked its way around you, deftly finding your already sensitive nub again. He teased small circles as he slowly began to move, dragging his cock from you before swiftly entering you again. Soon, his hips pistoned into you and you pushed back off of the wall, meeting him with every stroke. His other hand held your hip on a strong grip. You cried out his name as a wave of orgasm overtook you. Jesse followed behind, filling you as he finished.

You stood up and swayed on weak legs. Jesse quickly gathered you into his chest, showering your shoulders with kisses.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your skin.

“Always.” You sighed, leaning back into him. The next words left your mouth before you even considered them. “I love you, Jesse.”

Your stomach dropped for a moment. You knew you meant it but maybe it was too soon, too early. Before you could take it back, you looked to him in the mirror. His dark brown eyes found your suddenly wide ones and they were bright, all lust replaced with a vast joy. He quickly spun you to face him. Cupping your face in his hands, he tilted you up towards him.

“I love you too.”

His lips captured yours and his hands fell to wrap around your waist. Your heart soared as he squeezed you tighter to him.

“Now come on,” Jesse smirked before he stepped backwards, tuggiing you towards the bed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #tcw fan fic #tcw fan fiction #star wars jesse #clone wars jesse #tcw jesse/you #tcw jesse smut #arc trooper jesse x you #clone trooper jesse x reader #ct 5597 #ariadnes red thread #aria’s 150 follower celebration #ariadnes red thread 150 follower celebration #follower celebration #follower request

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moonstrider9904 · 8 months ago

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Dearest Moon,

Congratulations on this milestone. You deserve it for all of the love and passion you have put into this blog for years. Your impact on this fandom is undeniable, and i cannot imagine it without you as a part of it. Thank you for your beautiful creations and your friendship all these years. I would love to receive a love letter from Jesse? You know he is my favourite.

I would imagine his and my relationship to be committed and loving, as well as long term. We would have probably met while he was stationed somewhere him and his troops are often. We would likely go on picnic dates, bake and cook at home, do fun things like pottery and art together. I also like to imagine our relationship would be healthy, full of respect and admiration for one another (with the occasional argument, of course).

You know my personality quite well i assume, but i think i am opinionated and strong willed, but very sensitive and vulnerable all the same. I love joking around but i don't like jokes that can be hurtful and very personal. I tend to pour all of my love and attention into one person at a time, and am very devoted to them. I think i would be the same with a partner. I like things like flowers, so so much, i enjoy tea and doing laundry and baking.

As for physical appearance, i am a blondie with blue eyes, average in European height, and rather frail at the moment. Some encouraging words about my appearance from Jesse would be nice, as there isn't a thing i currently like about the way i look, if i am honest.

The letter can be suggestive if you like, as i like to think Jesse is a very sexual and physical person. It can even be NSFW.

My pronouns are she/they, but i am 100% okay with female descriptors and terms of endearment.

Thank you for doing this, it is such a wonderful idea. I hope you are well, and i am sending you all my love🌹

My dear @nunanuggets, thank you for stopping by. Thank you so much for your beautiful words! I hope to do you justice because I know how much you love Jesse, and I know how much he would love you. In the spirit of the follower celebration, thank you for always being so kind and supportive ❤️✨

Moon's 1300 follower celebration - a love letter from your man

Hey, sweetheart!

You wouldn't believe what Fives did today. He actually came up to me flexing a photo of who he thought was the hottest gal in the galaxy, and I almost punched him cuz I thought he'd somehow stolen my holo of you. Turned out he hadn't, he was just wrong.

Yes, that was my smooth way of reminding you that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes upon 😉 I know how much you love it when I tell you that, baby. You're gorgeous inside and out. Your amazing blue eyes, your hair, your skin, your voice. Your kindness, how supportive you are, the way you hold me, the way you fit perfectly in my arms when I hold you. So, do me a favor. Whenever you find yourself doubting, read this again. You're fucking beautiful and I'm the luckiest man in the universe to be with you. And if anyone dares tell you otherwise, I will personally, with my own hands, pay Fives and Echo to beat them up.

And, just in case you need a little extra encouragement, I'll be happy to show you how beautiful I think you are next time I'm on planet 😉😉

Alright, alright, back to my manners. I miss you too, my darling. Shit, after the time we've all had up here, nothing sounds better to me than a calm day with you. I want that, ya know? I want the routine, the domesticity. Please, for the love of all that's good, take me out for groceries next time I'm in town. Welcome me into your kitchen so we can cook a meal at our home. Let me brew tea for the first time for you to try it, hate it, but tell me you love it so I won't feel bad. I need that with you, love.

And after that, of course, we can do that other thing I was suggesting earlier. Heheh.

I adore you, baby, never forget that. And I'm counting down the days before I can meet up with you again.

Your man,

Jesse

#moon's 1300 followers #tcw jesse #clone wars jesse #tcw jesse x you #arc trooper jesse x you

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starlitscars · 4 months ago

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OMG, am I dreaming? Sweet Jess, you just spent so much time writing your feedback on this. I don't know how to thank you enough. Your kindness is just beyond what I deserve. :'))

You said that this was your first time writing for Joel and that you hoped it would be accurate, well, it definitely is. I love the way you wrote him. With his doubts, his insecurities and his fear of losing people he cares about. I loved that you enlightened these parts of him.

Wow? Just wow. This is such a nice relief. I was so SOOOOO nervous about capturing Joel's characteristics and doing him justice in this one. You reassured me and I feel much much better now. And you loved it? YOU LOVED IT? Omg I'm cryinggggg 😭😭 Thank youuuuu.

My heart just broke a little 😢

This is one of my favorite parts. I might have read it a few times. So beautifully written.

I’m getting emotional again 🥺

The way you spent so much time and described your emotions... I'm just speechless! YOU READ SOME PARTS A FEW TIMES? This is the sweetest, most motivating comment I could receive. You have no idea how much it means to me. YOU'RE JUST SO KIND. I can't stress it enough! :')))

These two lovebirds were incredibly sweet and their chemistry was undeniable. I don’t know if you’re considering writing for them again but if you do I’ll be more than happy to read you.

I died dead! I sure hope I'll be able to write more for them.

Tbh, I did NOT expect this one shot to get this much attention. But here we are. YOU made that possible. And then you added it in your fic recs. Like, EXCUSE ME? DO I DESERVE IT? Thank you for your support, sweet Jess (I hope you don't mind that I'm calling your name already. I'm just shaken by how amazing you areeee). Thank youuu. <3 😭💗🌟

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state.

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life.

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him.

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now.

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for.

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva.

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you.

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt.

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubles thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer.

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road.

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap.

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your sit, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth.

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share.

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..."

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He was still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knew he wanted an eternity with you.

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while- maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world.

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time.

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that.

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more.

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly.

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons.

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sende it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings.

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He think that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

#sunny replies #sunny cries #I'll never forget about this one #I PROMISE #THANK YOU #I'm really shaking here and I'm crying #so exciiiiiited #and so overcome with emotions

1K notes · View notes

dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

Text

Writing Echo's POV scenes in this chapter like

Cerra’s line that gave her the upper hand??? Cerra taking down the doctor like the badass she is??? I’m in AWE. That entire sequence was fantastic.

Thank you!!! I've been so excited to share her kicking ass and showing how freaking resilient and competent she is; she's had other action scenes, but nothing that tested her to this extent.

And then WOLFFE???

I hope I did your man justice! I swear to the Maker, I rewrote his dialogue so many times before I was happy with it!

Wolffe giving her Jesse’s blaster because he knew she would want it 😩

Once again... 🎶I hurt myself today🎶

I am so excited to see what you do with their story as well as Echo and Omega.

YO THE TRAILER HAS ME SO HYPED TO WRITE THE SEQUEL! I'm waiting to start it until S3 ends, but I have PLANS.

Both of them mentioning the other’s voice 😩 I am never getting over them. I want the best for them. I’m desperate for their reunion. I’m just so in love with their story.

Is it bad form to be really, really invested in my own OC's canon pairing? BC honestly, I care so much about them, and I feel like maybe I'm being a little ridiculous. 💀

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 20

A Whimper

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings and tags: the shit hits the fan; mentions of Plan 99 (spoilers for TBB season 2 finale); angst; suspense; canon-typical violence (bearing in mind that in canon Mando cuts a dude in half, soooo... adjust expectations accordingly); references to torture; choking; blood and injury; character death; language.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Echo deals with the fallout of Plan 99; Cerra has a polite conversation with the Empire.

A/N:

…Not with a bang but a whimper.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Echo sat motionless in the cockpit of the Marauder, staring blindly at the navigation controls. Tech was gone. They’d lost. And all of it had been for nothing. They had no way of locating Hemlock or his base—no way of finding Crosshair. Echo hadn’t just failed to bring one brother home; he’d lost another.

He mentally replayed those fateful moments in the railcar again and again. Could he have worked faster? Could he have done anything differently? Could he have changed the outcome? He didn’t know, and that uncertainty haunted him.

He turned to stare at the empty pilot’s seat. For an instant, Echo could almost see Tech there. He swallowed hard, pushing down the overwhelming grief that tightened in his throat, choking off his breath. His head hurt; his chest ached; his eyes burned with unshed tears.

Gonky shuffled into the cockpit and squawked so quietly that Echo didn’t hear him at first. The droid moved closer and honked a little louder, trying to get Echo’s attention.

Echo blinked and looked away from the vacant pilot’s seat. “What is it?”

Distantly, he heard a familiar rumble, and his heart began to race. He launched out of the co-pilot’s seat and sprinted out of the Marauder. He spotted the Venator hovering over Ord Mantell City and immediately commed Hunter.

“Hunter, the Empire's here.” No answer came. “Hunter, do you copy? Wrecker?”

There was no reply; nothing but static on the comms.

Kark.

Cerra stumbled as the TK trooper shoved her into the corridor. She subtly tested the binders on her wrists, but they held fast. She fought down the tide of panic rising in her chest and tried to ignore the way her breath was beginning to spiral out of control.

Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five. Oh, god, what if I never see Gregor again? Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Don’t think about it. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five.

She forced herself to focus on solving her immediate problems. First, she needed to get out of the binders. Impossible. Next, neutralize the trooper and take his blaster. He’ll blast me before I ever touch the deecee. Next, get to the hangar, steal a shuttle, and hit up the first Starcups she could find.

Piece of uj cake, she thought. Kriff, I’m going to die.

Her sense of impending doom only intensified when she reached the torture chamber—or rather, “enhanced interrogation room.” A stocky man in an officer’s uniform waited next to a table fitted with numerous restraints and an array of control panels and sinister-looking instruments. A tray of surgical tools and hypo-syringes sat next to it, neatly arranged.

At least he’s organized. I’d hate to be tortured to death by someone who was sloppy.

“Agent Daivik, I presume?” she asked.

“Ah, Miss Kilian. So good of you to join me,” Daivik said smoothly. He turned to the TK trooper. “Take off her binders and get out.”

“Can’t wait to get me alone?” she quipped as the trooper unlocked the manacles.

“Hardly,” Daivik sniffed. “You are only useful because of the information you possess. Please lie down.”

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink first?” she asked, rubbing her wrists to get the blood flowing to her hands again.

Daivik smirked, then his fist slammed into her shoulder and sent her careening backwards, the backs of her legs colliding with the interrogation table. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her down onto the table. She kicked her feet desperately, but he pinned down her thighs with one of his legs as he forced her to lie flat on her back. She scratched and grappled with his hand that clamped around her throat in a vise-like grip.

“Ju—Ch—” she sputtered as her airway closed.

“Ready to talk so soon?” he snarled. “I’m just getting started.”

Nevertheless, he loosened his grip enough that she could speak.

“Choke me harder, Daddy,” she rasped.

He snatched his hand away with a revolted curse, and she saw her opening. She headbutted him with all the force she could muster, and his nose made a sickening crunch as her forehead smashed into his face. He staggered backward, and she seized a scalpel off the surgical tray and plunged it into his neck. Blood sprayed out of him instantaneously, spattering thickly over her hand, arm, and face, and she lost her grip on the scalpel as the hot, slippery fluid coated her fingers.

Daivik’s pale blue eyes opened wide with shock, but he staggered toward her, his hands outstretched toward her neck. She clenched her hand into a fist and pounded the scalpel deeper into his throat, then curled her legs up and kicked him away with both feet. He lurched backward and fell, landing with a heavy thud. He went abruptly still as his head collided with the durasteel floor.

She leaned forward on the edge of the table, bracing her hands on her knees as she gasped for air. Her vision blurred, and with her clean hand, she wiped Daivik’s blood out of her eyes. The door hissed open, and the TK trooper rushed into the room. Cerra lunged for another scalpel, but before she could strike, she saw a flash of blue, and the trooper collapsed to the floor. A clone in gray and white armor stood behind him, blaster still raised. Cerra crouched in a defensive position, scalpel clutched in her fist. The clone smacked the control panel to close the door behind him, then lowered his blaster.

“You know, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do is comm,” he said as he removed his helmet to reveal a familiar scarred face and mismatched eyes: one brown, and one a cybernetic silver.

“Wolffe?” she gaped, her voice hoarse and ragged from Daivik’s bruising grip on her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Saw you on the security holofeeds and thought you might need help.” He spared a glance at Daivik’s corpse. “Looks like I was right.”

“I had it under control,” she lied, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“You were about to bring a scalpel to a blaster fight,” Wolffe said pointedly.

“Kriff you,” she replied without heat.

“Kriff me yourself, coward,” he grinned.

“Holocams?” she asked.

“Surveillance feeds are off for this room and the corridor outside. You all right?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” she asked, pulling off her jacket and using it to wipe the blood off herself as much as possible.

“You don’t look so bad,” Wolffe said as he quickly began to strip off the TK trooper’s armor.

She moved to help. “Been better, been worse.”

“What’s your plan for getting out of here?” he asked.

“Steal a shuttle,” she said.

“I like it. Simple, straightforward.”

“Want to come with me?” she asked.

He shook his head as they wrestled the TK trooper out of his compression suit. “I’ll stay here and cover for you from the command deck.”

“You sure?” she asked doubtfully. “They’re going to suspect I had help.”

“I’ll stay,” he repeated. “I have… other duties to fulfill.”

He turned his back to give her privacy as she changed into the black body glove, then handed her the armor one piece at a time as she suited up.

“It’s a hell of a coincidence, you being on the exact ship they brought me to,” Cerra observed.

“Sure is,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“Almost like someone knew I got captured and sent you in after me,” she said.

“That’d be quite the twist, wouldn’t it?” he agreed noncommittally. “Good thing neither of us knows anyone who would do that.”

“Good thing,” she agreed as she settled the helmet onto her head. “How do I look?”

“Not bad,” Wolffe replied. “You might want to take this, though.”

He drew one of his blasters and offered it to her.

“I’ve got his deecee,” she said, gesturing toward the unconscious TK trooper. “I’m good.”

“Trust me, you want this one,” Wolffe said.

She glanced down at the blaster in his hand, and her breath caught as she recognized Jesse’s modifications.

“I could only find the one,” he said. “But I knew you’d want it back.”

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard before she managed to reply, “Thanks.”

He nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “Ready?”

“Any time. It was good seeing you, buddy.”

“You, too, kid,” Wolffe said, sliding his helmet firmly into place. “I’ll see you around.”

“That a promise?” she asked.

“Clone’s honor.”

They stepped into the corridor, and Wolffe closed and locked the door behind them. With any luck, nobody would discover Daivik’s body and the TK trooper until Cerra was safely off the Venator. With one final nod at each other, they parted, Wolffe heading to the bridge while Cerra made her way to the flight deck.

She forced herself to walk at a normal pace to avoid drawing attention, though her instincts screamed at her to run. Her heart pounded, and she was grateful for the helmet that hid her face from the Imperials she passed in the passageways; she didn’t think she would be able to disguise her anxiety without it.

The hangar was nearly deserted when she arrived—no doubt thanks to Wolffe. Nobody noticed an extra TK trooper in the shuttle bay. Cerra selected a shuttle, then quickly located and disabled its transponder beacon. Once she powered up the shuttle, the Imperials would know something was wrong. She would have an incredibly narrow window to get out of range of the tractor beam. There would be no time to program the hyperdrive navicomputer; she’d have to use the last inputted coordinates and hope for the best. She took a deep breath and boarded the shuttle.

Settling into the pilot’s seat, Cerra began running as many of the pre-flight protocols as she could before engaging the sublight engine. This is it, then, she thought, beginning the power-up sequence and maneuvering the shuttle out of the bay.

The comms crackled almost immediately. “Nu-class shuttle, you are not cleared for takeoff. Return to the—”

She muted the transmission, then punched the thrusters to top speed, blasting out of the hangar and into space. The Venator opened fire, but as soon as she was clear of the ship, Cerra jumped to hyperspace. Safely away, she yanked off her helmet and leaned back in her seat, gasping for air.

“I can’t believe that worked,” she said aloud with a short, incredulous laugh.

Riyo stared at the flickering hologram of Echo’s face, feeling as though all the oxygen had been forcefully ripped from her lungs.

“How?” she whispered. “What happened?”

“The Trandoshan sold us out,” Echo replied, his face grim and twisted by grief and anger. “We barely made it out alive.”

“Why would the Empire take Omega? What do they want with her?”

“I don’t know. That Imperial—Hemlock—he said something about Nala Se. He said she’s still alive.”

Riyo frowned. “Could she have escaped the destruction of Tipoca City? Halle Burtoni told me there were a few Kaminoans scattered throughout the galaxy, but she didn’t mention Nala Se.”

“If Nala Se is working for the Empire, that can only spell trouble for us clones,” Echo said.

“I agree. We should discuss this with Rex. When will you be back to Coruscant?” Riyo asked.

Echo glanced away, refusing to meet her eyes.

Her heart began to pound. “Echo?”

He took a deep breath before he replied. “I’m not coming back to Coruscant.”

She blinked. “... What?”

“I’m staying with Hunter and Wrecker,” he said quietly. “Omega is still out there somewhere, in Imperial hands. We have to find her.”

“Cerra is still out there, too!” Riyo protested. “We need you here! We need you—”

“Riyo,” Echo said gently. “Rex and the others are doing everything they can to find her. I trust them, and I trust that she can take care of herself until they find her. Besides, if I know Cerra, she’s already making whoever took her wish they were never born. But Omega is only a child. We can’t abandon her.”

He was right, of course. She knew he was right. But knowing he was right didn’t make the crushing weight in her chest feel any lighter. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She bit back the selfish words that sprang to her lips, knowing that speaking them aloud would only make things worse. Nevertheless, they reverberated in her mind.

I need you. I love you. Come back to me.

Echo reached for her through the holocomm, and she closed her eyes for a moment, imagining that she could feel the warmth of his touch.

“We will see each other again,” he said. “I swear it, Riyo. This isn’t the end for us.”

Without her comlink, Cerra had no choice but to use the shuttle’s communicator to contact Rex. Not only were the shuttle’s comms not secure, it was possible that the Empire was actively monitoring them. She keyed in the details for one of the team’s burner comm channels.

“Code kilo-three-two-seven. Scrapper to Monarch, come in,” she said. The minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness as she awaited a reply. When none came, she tried again. “Monarch, this is Scrapper. Please respond.”

The comm was silent. Fighting down her rising panic, Cerra ran a diagnostic to make sure it was functional. All systems were normal. She was just about to try a third time when the voice she loved most in the entire galaxy crackled through the speaker.

“Scrapper, this is Watchman. Good to hear your voice.”

Gregor. Oh, thank kriff. Tears of relief stung her eyes, and she hurriedly blinked them away as she responded.

“Back at you, Watchman.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “Really good.”

“What’s your status?”

“I’m all right, but I could use a ride. Any chance you’re free for a pickup?” she asked.

“Affirmative. Head to delta-one-alpha-eight-two. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Copy that, Watchman. Fly casual.”

“You, too, Scrapper.”

Gregor ended the transmission, and Cerra let out a shaky breath. It was over. She was going home.

---

Next chapter

#comment reblog #thank you for reading!#echo tbb #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #star wars

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natsugia · 3 years ago

Note

I’ve been on a recent literati binge, obsessed with them, and stumbled upon your literati fic, “‘this is tailored made (so what’s the sense in waiting?)”, and wanted to say thank you so much for it. I can honestly say it took over my life for a brief 3 day stint and now, I’m yearning for more of them! YOU DID AMAZING! You gave them justice where the revival lacked. The closure desired from these two. It gave me so much pain and happiness, you wouldn’t believe it. I left reviews, ofc. I can’t thank you enough for how amazing that journey was for me, a delight, through and through. You are a marvelous and gut wrenching writer! You actually know these characters. Thank you so much, again, and I hope to see more from you! Will be checking out your other literati fics, indubitably!

🥰❤️ Thank you so much! The love for this fic has absolutely blown me away. I’m truly humbled and feel blessed to have you and others as such lovely amazing readers. And thank you for leaving a review. They mean the world to me. I’m completely backed up, but eventually I will respond to the rest of them, even the ones who have been waiting for a reply for like a year or two. I’m sorry! You’re not forgotten, I promise. Just overwhelmed with life. 😘 (@milothirst I haven’t forgotten about the Jess + sex post. Posting it soon!)

As for more in the universe, I have a small-ish follow-up I’m working on. TITM’s coming up on the 1k kudos mark on AO3 😱🤯, so I thought to maybe do a wedding sequel as a 1k celebration. I’m about 20% done with it at this point. Given how slow I am at writing with my hectic life schedule right now, we’ll see when I can get that out. Hopefully before summer of next year.

As for my other fics, I am still working on those as well. Next update will be for TWWCIL. I’ve got about 65% of the full story written, but of course it’s mostly towards the end. Once I finish fleshing out the middle, I’ll be able to rewrite chapter 4 and start a more regular update process. After that will be Chapter 8 of OSAS, the full story which has about 7 more chapters left to write before it is finally complete and we can post it regularly as well. And then I’ll post the 2 part Chilton AU, the Lit + cats au, and then finally the time loop AU I’ve been writing in my head for like four years.

So a lot of things to come. I just really need the time to be able to sit down and write. Thought I would have it this year, but my car got taken from me at the beginning of this year due to theft and vandalism, which was a huge loss cause my car IS my livelihood. I make majority of my money from driving gigs, and now that I’m spending about $500 a week with the rental I have while also making less money than before due to constraints of the rental program, it’s been a lot of expenses that I’m juggling at the moment. Once I’m able to buy a new car, I can go back to my ideal three day/weekend work week and get back to writing semi regularly.

I hope you’ll stay tuned. Feel free to come by here to chat or for any updates. I also recently made a Twitter (I HATE myself), so I’m gonna try and start posting more on there as well. Anon from months ago, if you’re still here, you can now find me @natsugia1 on Twitter. I should warn you though that my twitter will probably be a LOT more eclectic in terms of what I tweet on there, given what I’ve already been sucked into on that dumpster fire of a platform.

Wishing you a beautiful and wonderful summer. Sending you the QUEEN for Fun and Love and Life

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luna-nigthshade-wood · 2 years ago

Text

He compartido 3825 publicaciones este 2022

37 publicaciones originales (1 %)

3788 reblogueos (99 %)

Estos son los blogs que más he reblogueado:

@hermywolf

@pinknatural

@anxietyproblem

@outdean

@chaoticace22

He etiquetado 2996 publicaciones en 2022

Solo el 22 % de mis publicaciones no incluye ninguna etiqueta

#supernatural: 1572 publicaciones

#dean winchester: 973 publicaciones

#castiel: 648 publicaciones

#destiel: 559 publicaciones

#sam winchester: 264 publicaciones

#supernatural incorrect quotes: 251 publicaciones

#jensen ackles: 180 publicaciones

#misha collins: 156 publicaciones

#jack kline: 132 publicaciones

#dad dean: 113 publicaciones

La etiqueta más larga tiene 112 caracteres

#you can see sam´s mental struggle of wheter is worth they crash the car to save himself from being in the middle

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

AU: Dean & his ducklings. After Dean gets called to the principal´s office to pick up the ducklings:

(Dean arriving at the school and seeing the ducklings seating in front of the principal´s offive)

Dean:...

Claire:...

Emma:...

Jesse:...

Kaia:...

Alex:...

Krissy:..

Bobby John:...

Jack, waving: Hello, Dean!

Dean: Hi, Jack. How are you? I was fine until I got three panic calls from your principal asking me to come pick up 7 of my kids. So would anyone like to tell me why I got said calls from your principal and why I had to plead for him not to expel 5 of you?

(cue ducklings talking all at once)

Dean, exasperated: Enough!!! One at the time. Emma, you start

Emma: I plead the fifth?

Dean: Cute, but no. One of you will tell me what happened or else...

Claire, mocking: Or else what? You will ground us?

Dean: Worse. I will sinc Sam at all of you and make you take 6 months of his “healthy emotions” classes

Krissy, horrified: You wouldnt

Kaia: You cant

Dean: I can and I will, unless somebody tells me what happened

Bobby John: They called you because I fell asleep at class. Again. The others got into a fight

Jesse: Snitch

Bobby John: I already suffered three of Sam´s classes, at this point is everybody for themselves

Alex: Harsh but fair

Dean: I will ask again, why did you start a fight?

Kaia, blurting: We didnt have a choice, they were bothering Jack

Claire: Some assholes where insulting and bothering Jack, so we told them to knock it off

Emma: But they wouldnt listen and we decided to teach them why you shouldnt mess with one of us

Alex: Technically that was only Claire, Emma, Krissy and I

Descúbrela

119 notas. Fecha de publicación: 4 de marzo de 2022

I love the posts about Castiel loving bees and I just had this random idea that Jimmy was allergic to bees, of course this doesnt affect Cas until he is human, then he learns it the hard way and Dean has to take him to the hospital so the doctors can treat Cas´ anaphylactic shock:

Cas, in the Impala with Dean after being released from the hospital: If I had a coin for everytime that I loved something so much that almost killed me, I will have two coins, which isnt a lot, but its curious that it happened twice.

Dean, trying to keep conversation: Relax, buddy, you will be fine. So besides bees, what is the other thing that you love so much that almost killed you?

Cas, with no filter: You, obviously.

*Cue Dean seering the Impala´s wheel and almost crashing into a tree. To this day they deny that this is how they got together*

120 notas. Fecha de publicación: 10 de enero de 2022

So I had this thought about that when the justice league figures out Billy´s identity there is a big fight about who is going to be his mentor, the biggest contestants being Batman and Superman, at the end they had to make a compromise and now Billy is part of both the superfam and the batfam

130 notas. Fecha de publicación: 25 de julio de 2022

Dean, Cas and Charlie at a party

Random guy: What a beautiful lady

Charlie: Thanks

Random guy: Now, which one of you fine gentleman is third wheeling for this beautiful lady?

Charlie: That would be the beautiful lady

208 notas. Fecha de publicación: 20 de marzo de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

AU: Where nobody but the Winchesters, Cas and Jack know that Lucifer is Jack´s bio dad, so whenever they met someone they know, everyone gives Cas and Dean a second glance before Dean tells them that he is not Jack´s bio dad. Nobody believes him though, especially since in here Cas and Dean are dating (that was after Jack was born not that anyone believes them either). Also ignoring canon they end up resucitating Bobby:

Bobby: Well, boy, I am glad you finally get your head out of your ass and get together with Cas, the kid is a surprise though

Dean: Yeah thats... Wait a minute, I am not Jack´s bio dad, why does everyone keep thinking that, Sam, tell them

Sam, teasing: I dont know, I feel like I have a shortage of memories of those months

Dean: No, just no. How would that even work?

Cas: Well, actually Dean, since I am an Angel of the Lord I could leave a little bit of grace behind when we...

Dean, putting a hand over Cas´ mouth: Okay, stop, that is not what happened and you know it

(Disbelief noices from the peanut gallery)

Dean: Guys, you believe me right? Guys? Alright whoever thinks that Jack is Cas and I biological son raise you hand

Bobby: *raises hand*

Jody: *raises hand*

Donna: *raises hand*

Claire: *raises hand*

Rowena: *raises hand*

Crowley: *raises hand*

Garth: * enthusiastically raises hand*

Dean: ....

Dean, facepalming: Jack put your hand down

Jack: *Slowly lowering his hand*

Jack: But you are my father Dean and I love you and Castiel, you are the best parents anyone can ask for

Dean, crying: Okay *Hugs Jack*

236 notas. Fecha de publicación: 3 de febrero de 2022

Descubre tu resumen del 2022 en Tumblr →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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jesswritesthat · 4 years ago

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you are such a good writer so i just know you’ll do justice to this. if you’d be willing, a small drabble about reader who tends to be quite standoffish w guys and just isn’t as close to them as compared to girls bc i remember being so stupid around my childhood crush and i’m pretty sure he hated me 😃 and then the guy i was friends w wouldn’t let me get too close to him bc he didn’t want people to think we’re “dating” n e ways let me shove my insecurities back down,,, but reader still loves watching romance anything bc someone unabashedly wanting to be around you like that?? can’t relate xx anyways it can be w any haikyuu guy, let the vibes come to you 🥰 thank you Jess love u 🥺

A/N: Hold up - THIS IS ME OMG! I feel you, I have terrible luck with romance but I find it so cute at the same time! I love you too, gorgeous anon, I hope I’ve done you justice 🥺

So allow me to kill some of those insecurities - or Oikawa will rather >:)

Warnings: cursing, fem reader

>>>>——————————>

Anyone could admit Oikawa Tōru was enamouring, yet you only offered a shaky sigh as your friend tugged you along to meet her team. That’s what you get for befriending the future manager of Seijoh back in Middle School.

"Aren't you from Iwa-chans’ class?" An internal shriek caused your eyes to widen, snapping your head to the local celebrity tilting his toward you rather than his fangirls.

"I'm surprised you remember." Snarky. Nice, you'd possibly regret it if not for his all-too-gentlemanly attitude. He’d only barged in searching for Iwaizumi a couple of times, you didn’t think he’d taken notes.

"Wouldn't forget a pretty face like yours." The smile was beautiful, even so you crossed your arms with a raised brow.

"Next time, try harder~"

"So mean (L/n)-chan."

You winced, your head screaming 'I know! God I know?! Why would I say that?!' but it was natural instinct at this point, a defence mechanism if you will, especially against someone as cunning as Oikawa Tōru.

In honesty, you believed that to be the start and end of it - except your friend encouragingly dragged you to her practices and Oikawa strategically managed to catch you alone every single time. Makki or Mattsun (you think) subtlety coined your friends focus for approximately 10 minutes, leaving you laxly waiting for her to rejoin you. In fact with the consistency at which it occurred, you’d become friends with the Captain.

———

Only you’d let your guard down once, the team required managerial help meanwhile you got settled playing a romantic film on your phone. Immediately you were distracted, softness leaking to your features whilst muffled hopeless sighs of endearment were hummed in acknowledgment.

“That’s an unusual sound from you~”

“He just gave her a rose and they kissed in the rain, how could I not - shit!” It was a subconscious answer due to enthralment, the haunting voice only resonating mid-way through your justification causing you to shockingly snap around to Tōru watching from over your shoulder with a smug grin. You’d almost dropped your phone!

“Don’t stop now (Y/n)-chan, tell me how to get you to make that sound again. It’s cute.”

“No- no way! Get back to practice Oikawa - go do a jump serve or something!”

“Oh? So you do listen when I talk about Volleyball!”

———

It wasn’t until after their next practice match did you suffer his infuriating (yet admittedly appreciated) presence again. This time the brunette proudly standing by your side as he shared his views of the match with you - the burning gazes of his fans deadlocked on the two of you as if deciphering the DaVinci code.

"Maybe you should um - y'know, not be so close?"

A careful roll of your shoulder accompanied your hesitant claim, the close proximity allowing for the small movement to graze his left side. Oikawa shot you a perplexed look, leaning closer to your face out of spite - even if his inquiry was subtlety sincere.

"Why? You don't like it?"

"No - I mean yes - I just..." A sigh of defeat escapes as you run a hand through your hair before meeting his warm hues again. "People might think you care and I wouldn't want you to have to deal with rumours."

Tōru was unnervingly quiet, he would’ve took a step back if you’d asked, however this reasoning was ridiculous by his standard. Darkened irises scanned over your casual frame with fingers pressed against his chin in thought.

"What if I want people to think that? I mean it's true, isn't it~"

"Is it?"

A melodic chuckle echoes your sarcastic suspicion, the heartthrob of Seijoh nudging your arm with a charming smile that’d leave fans fainting at his feet.

"Am I not obvious enough for you (Y/n)-chan?"

"You're obvious to everyone - in fact you're probably nicer to your fans than you are to me. Hence why I'm hesitant to believe you."

It was beyond comprehension to think one of the most popular men in Miyagi be romantically interested in you, which is why taking the flirtatious antics of Oikawa was done with a pinch of salt.

“Hmm... in that case I’ll show you...” You hadn’t a moment to determine his intentions, not when he’d firmly hooked your wrist and dragged you out to the refreshing Spring showers currently hydrating Miyagis’ cherry blossoms that day.

“By getting me wet?!”

“Eventually maybe - ah, that’s not it though.” Only smirking at the death glare pointed at him due the insinuation, Tōru washed it away with the gentle caress of his palms either side of your jaw. You knew his hands were magic but this was surreal - a thumb brushed your cheekbone before his lips met with your forehead, his nose then skimmed to meet yours with a genuinely content smile ghosting his features.

“T-tōru?” Breathless surprise, that’s all you could muster with the rain trickling down your skin onto his delicate fingers. He’d never seen you so defenceless, and he’d wanted more of it.

“I actually like that sound better than your longing sighs, say it again for me, won’t you?” You’d pulled from him with that, your fingers lacing his wrists - to which the Setter fluently twisted and captured your hands in his own causing you to furrow your brows once again.

“Shut up, you’re not funny.”

A defeated sigh left him, eyes briefly closed in surrender prior to fluttering open with renewed admiration for you, mildly unwilling to admit the sentimentality underlying his actions. Sentimentality tailored to you and for only you.

“I know it’s not a passionate kiss in the rain like in the movies, the ones you like so much. But I’ll willingly, happily try - we can get to that if you want to go on a date with me?“

“Are you serious? Don’t you h-“

“I don’t want them, I want you. The person who lets her friends drag her to games she didn’t want to attend, who helps in practice despite not needing to, the girl who got to know the real me, and the one who looks really cute watching romantic movies~”

“I don’t know her but, I suppose there’s no harm in going out with you once Oikawa.” The witty response caused him to laugh along with you, expecting nothing less.

“Perfect - but my hair is gonna be ruined, can we go back inside now (Y/n)-chan?”

Rolling your eyes at his petty whining, you couldn’t hide the overflowing amusement in your laugh as you pushed him back into the gymnasium where his team (and your friend) sported expectant grins.

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

#oikawa toru #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #anime x reader #anime imagines #aoba johsai #oikawa tōru #hq #hq fluff #hq imagines

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years ago

Note

I want Mistletoe and Ollie x Jess, Nikolai x Selina please 💋 Orrrr Mittens for Jack x Rin? I love you.

A/N: It still feels weird, like wearing someone else's clothes...not necessarily bad, just weird. Anyway, I hope I did them justice. Word Count: 1195 Rating: T - innuendo, some angst, panic attack

Tagging you just to make sure it gets to you promptly, @misskittysmagicportal. And resisting the urge to overexplain my obvious and italicized joke.

“Here.” Rin shoved the red paper-wrapped bundle at Jack with a distinct lack of ceremony that set him frowning, puzzled.

Still, he carefully unwrapped the twine and pulled the tape, being sure to take it slow and making a game out of her impatience. He foot tapped and she fidgeted with her sleeves, the hem of her blouse, and seemingly anything else she could reach. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Mittens?” he asked when he’d finished, holding up the multicolored mass with a vague hand shape. They were mismatched, one having a clear, almost razor straight pattern of stripes and the other with too many lumps and deviations to possibly have been intentional. “What’d ye get me these for?”

“Your hands are always so bloody cold, I decided to make you something for it, instead of always shoving your hands up my jumper.”

Jack paused, mulling over how to put delicately that they were nearly unwearable, and certainly not something he’d ever be caught dead in.

“I thought ye liked it when I stuck my fingers up ye,” he waggled his eyebrows and Rin flushed, struggling to maintain a straight face and glare at her partner.

“Twat,” she snapped, sticking her tongue out at him childishly.

“That’s the idea.”

“Do you like the gift or not?” there was a hint of nervousness in her voice that wasn’t usual for her, and he reluctantly put them on to appease her.

Inside, despite their appearance, they were surprisingly comfortable, the wool yarn soft and stretchy enough he didn’t feel trapped.

“They’re uh…unique, for sure,” he nodded, wiggling his digits around to test them. “You said you made them?”

Rin bit her nail and gave a small laugh. “Well, I made one. Most of one. Rolo…helped….”

Jack nodded slowly in understanding, looking at them again and seeing the telltale signs of the other man in the tight stitches. It was a hobby that made a strange amount of sense for the uptight musician and he could almost picture the Irishman’s clipped, rhythmic movements with the needles, and his annoyance at Rin’s admittedly more chaotic attempts. He smiled, feeling new affection for the (still hideous) garments, the collective work of two people he cared about, who cared about him.

“Jack?” Rin asked, pulling him back to the room.

“Thank you, Little Bird.” he pulled one hand out so it was free to reach for her. “They're perfect. But…” he slid his large hand under her hem and up, grinning as she shivered. “I still think I like keeping warm this way better.”

Rin couldn't help hooking an arm around his neck or the hungry look on her face as they drew each other in.

“I think I can let you get away with it one more time.”

Despite his initial, and continued, misgivings about their appearance, Jack found himself grateful for the mittens. The icy winds that winter were particularly harsh, seeming to chap any exposed skin as soon as you stepped outside. They had teased that Rin might actually take flight if she wasn't careful, and when they all huddled together at night it was for warmth as much as anything. So the mittens became a permanent presence in the pocket of Jack's beat up old coat, and it made his chest tight with affection when Rin unabashedly grinned, and even tighter from the unexpectedness of Roland's blushes and small smiles, when they caught him wearing them.

Winter turned to spring, the winds died down and became soaking rain, and then even that passed to summer, and the garments remained in his pocket, almost forgotten by the trio.

Rin was frantic. It was supposed to be a date, just her and Jack and a bit of fun in town. But the “harvest festival” (even though it was hardly an important part of the local economy anymore) was more crowded this year than it was meant to be. And they’d separated, splitting up to get mulled wine and snacks and meet back together for a picnic, so she was suddenly alone in a crowd that wanted to bump and jostle, vying for prime spots in line for different booths and games. She was getting flashes every time someone brushed against her, alcohol lowering their guards and her somehow missing a glove.

She couldn’t think. There was too much else going on inside her head for her to be there. Colors, shapes, smells, sounds, all too quick to form into memories. Feelings, so many feelings. She was too lost to notice hands on her shoulder, or the familiar voice calling her name, to register when he picked her up and moved her through the crowd, sheltering her with his body.

And then she was just her again, standing in the protective circle of Jack’s arms and crying.

“Little Bird? Are you okay?” he asked as he continued to hold her.

She shook his head, clinging to his sweater as best as her mittened hands would let her.

Mittened?

She froze, staring down at her hands. On the left, smooth, straight stripes of color and on the right, a lumpy, ridiculous mess, like a box of crayola had exploded in a yarn factory and someone decided it was good enough.

“Wha…” she mumbled. “Jack, are these the mittens I gave you last year?”

“Maybe we should go home, yeah? Have a night in instead?” he asked, avoiding the question and her confused, stunned expression.

“You…still have these? And kept them on you?”

He shrugged. “They’re good mittens.”

She laughed, and he couldn’t help but smile, the sound infinitely better than her tears. “They’re terrible mittens. Especially the one I made.”

“Matched or not, they’re a set. If I keep one, I hav’ta keep the other. And I like the one you made better.”

“You’re full of shit. And you still haven’t said why you had them with you?”

“Oh that. I always do. Never take ‘em outta my pocket unless I need t’ wear them. Or ye do I guess. Lucky that.”

She was tearing up again, and he tried not to panic.

“Jack…” she sighed, his name fluttering from her lips. “I can’t believe you actually…I thought you would have thrown them out and gotten proper ones by now.”

“You and Rolo worked hard on ‘em, together, for me. That makes ‘em important, and I’m keepin’ ‘em forever.”

“Matched or not, they’re a set?” she asked, repeating his words with new reverence and he nodded, acknowledging the other meaning.

“But if you ever tell the bastard–” the threat was cut off as Rin threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He sighed, cradling her waist and pulling her close as their tongues slid against one another.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked when they both broke reluctantly for air.

“Yeah,” she admitted, still seeming just a little shaky. “But I agree, we should go home. I have to talk to an Irishman about a scarf.”

“What?”

“The set isn’t quite complete yet, and a nice big will keep you wrapped up, safe…I mean cozy.”

Jack smiled, wrapping his fingers around hers with a gentle squeeze. “Home it is then.”

#I've got to confess. This is actually the first winter prompt I came up with an Idea for #Jack Mason x Rin Davies #Threesomers #The Messenger fic #borrowing a friend's OC #angst and fluff #frozen fics 2k21 #P.S. I still love you for trusting me with your babies #especially considering our conversation yesterday that got very deep and complicated and emotional

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mmikmmik2 · 4 years ago

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If you were to sort the Infinity Train cast(s) into the Major Arcana a la the Persona games, which Arcana would you give everyone?

anon I had SOOOOO much fun thinking about this, thank you so much for sending me this. I sorted all the major characters, plus a few other entries, based on a mix of Arcana symbolism, Persona series character archetypes, and general vibes. I came up with answers I feel pretty good about for all but four of the Arcana. (Was really tempted to say Strength is every human character who doesn't board the train because they can handle their problems on their own lol.) This is going to be a long-winded post, so I thought I’d post just the list as an image (which hopefully won’t be too blurry!) rather than wrestle with Tumblr formatting trying to make a short list, and put a big text wall under the readmore talking more about my picks.

If this list does end up illegible, the same info is under the readmore as text! Plus some characters for Magician, Strength, Justice, and Death that I didn’t want to add to the “official” list because they’re more based on headcanon. (Although my reasoning for some of the “official” picks is pretty weak lol.)

One-One as 0. The Fool

Oh my gosh, what am I?

IT is great at fleshing out character backstories and families, so One-One at the beginning of S1 is one of the few characters who really feels like a blank slate. He's got a lot of his baggage back by the end of the season, and I think One and One-One are more similar than they seem at first glance, but S1 does seem to have been very formative for One-One and how he thinks about what he's supposed to be doing and how he relates to other people. So it does kind of feel like his fool's journey.

Alrick Timmens as I. The Magician

The magician begins the journey... by beefing it on a dirt bike, dying, and sending his wife flying off the deep end. Rip.

Alrick was an engineer like Amelia, so I could see him suiting some of the themes of the Magician, like conscious thought and manifesting ideas. His apparent playfulness and insecurity are similar to the Magician characters in Persona.

Kez as II. The High Priestess

“We can’t make this decision for you, Kez.” “You know what to do.”

I thought really hard about making Kez the Magician because just like every Magician since Persona 3, she's dumb, horny, and insecure dlkjasfdkl

(and also her showing up at the start of the story arc and being helpful but also super needy is very Magician)

But the idea of "intuition" really does suit Kez. Sometimes her intuition is as bad as her conscious reasoning, but I think that's a lot because she's so confused about what happened with Jeremy, and Morgan making Kez feel like she did a bad thing by helping him.

Tuba as III. The Empress

She made me feel like I was warm all the time.

Tuba's a mom. Sorry, this one's not that deep, haha.

Simon Laurent as IV. The Emperor

Highest number! I'm the leader now.

Simon has a lot of issues, but the one that felt the most prominent to me was his unhealthy relationship with power, authority, dominance, and rules. Another quote I considered using here was what he said in Grace's memory of meeting Amelia: "I never thought I'd get to see the Conductor with my own eyes. He's perfect! Everything finally makes sense again." In his emotional crisis, he thought everything could be fixed just by the existence of a huge, scary, powerful, male authority figure, even if they weren't doing anything helpful or informative.

Atticus as V. The Hierophant

I like to think that our stones are sturdy and handsome, like the Corgis that crafted them.

Atticus is a figure of traditional authority who deeply loves the history, society, and culture of his people. He often provides spiritual wisdom and encourages Tulip to get out of her own head and engage with the world around her. Also in Persona, Hiero is the Dad Arcana so it's very funny to me (a) to make the little dog be Hiero and (b) that the little dog really does have the strongest Wholesome Dad Energy of the whole cast.

Jesse Cosay as VI. The Lovers

Don't tell me what to do. I'm not going to be a part of anything like this, on or off the train.

This was my first and easiest pick lol, Jesse is sooooo Lovers. Like, the focus on choice and personal values and relationships? Yep, that's Jesse. It works on an "actual meaning of the Arcana" level and a "vibes with the Persona characters" level lol... popular, upbeat, and having such an identity crisis.

Lake as VII. The Chariot

I'm my own person, who is getting off this train!

I don't know if Chariot captures all the ways Lake grew over the course of S2, but I feel like they had the most externally focused conflict of all the IT characters, which suits Chariot. They've been fighting to stake out their personhood from start to finish, and they took action and used their willpower to achieve that goal. Also they have at least a little jock energy which is a prereq for Chariot tbh.

Frank as VIII. Strength

I dunno, I kinda imagine him as a simple man and easily underestimated, but with a lot of heart. The Cat may say they're keeping things casual but I don't think she'd take him with her on her private vacation unless he had some kind of inner toughness that would let him stand toe-to-toe with her.

Morgan as IX. The Hermit

I need to be alone right now. Kez... maybe... we can talk later.

I like that Morgan embodies toxic self-isolation and stonewalling and rejection, but that she seems to be moving towards the positive aspects of Hermit and taking some time to calm down and process and think. I like it when characters can embody the best and worst of their Arcana.

Tulip Olsen as X. The Wheel of Fortune

We have to adapt to the changes in our lives. It's the only way things can get better.

Tulip has a lot of themes and conflicts, but this one is a clear standout as the most important. I also like it for Tulip because, while she has to handle a lot of difficult and even traumatic situations, some of the change that challenges her isn't as unambiguously bad as e.g. the death of a loved one. It really is just change itself she's struggling with, and that's Fortune babey. Also, from the perspective of the train itself and lots of other characters, by reversing Amelia and One-One's positions again and changing how One-One administrates the train, Tulip is the one giving the wheel a spin. That's fun.

Lucy as XI. Justice

One of my friends once described the Justice characters in Persona as "the ones the player character is ultimately accountable towards", and I like to think of Lucy as kind of being that for Grace (...since Hazel has excused herself). Lucy is the Apex kid we see Grace interact with the most, the first Apex kid Grace admitted to herself that she had harmed (see Grace very briefly showing distress and then regret when Jesse points the harpoons at his face and she stops him), and the first person to confront Grace when she came home in The New Apex.

Min-Gi Park as XII. The Hanged Man

I don't know if we'll sell a single album, but we'll figure that out as we go.

Min-Gi sacrifices his "realistic", "sensible" goals for a more personally (spiritually, even?) enriching life that's beyond his control and outside of the expected norm. Like the Hanged Man, who dangles foolishly upside-down, but as a deliberate choice and in a state of serenity and enlightenment. I also think this arcana suits a reading of Min-Gi's character development as starting off going slower as a way to stall and live in denial, but then going slower with deliberation. Compare his arrogant insistence on refusing to act in The Astro Queue Car to his patience and care in The Castle Car and The Train to Nowhere.

Jeremy as XIII. Death

This isn't about the death of his family - I'm thinking of his reluctance to admit his number was going down. He cared about Morgan and Kez, and it's possible both that he may have really wanted to stay with them despite his exit and that that might even have been a healthy choice - they're real ass people with feelings and everything, not holodeck characters. But I also think Jeremy was using his life with them to avoid moving on out of that fog (because it was hard and it hurt and he didn't want to think about what that would mean for him and Morgan) and Morgan was enabling him.

Ryan Akagi as XIV. Temperance

Maybe the experience is the point. I wasn't just rushing you. I was rushing myself.

I think this one speaks for itself. Also, the other quote I considered putting here, from The Art Gallery Car: "You told me I can't appreciate the song without taking in the rest of the album. I need the whole package."

The Cat as XV. The Devil

I always do the right thing.

Honestly, this is one I really wasn't sure about. The Cat isn't a great pick for a lot of the meanings of Devil. She is definitely consumed by material comforts, and the short-term rewards of ignoring her issues at a long-term cost, though. This is more of a "vibes with Persona characters with this arcana" pick... Devil characters tend to start off being somewhat exploitative or even antagonistic towards the player character, and gradually showing a more conflicted and genuine side.

Amelia Hughes as XVI. The Tower

There's a hole in the universe where Alrick used to be.

Amelia's life is defined by catastrophe and upheaval - both those she's suffered and those she's inflicted on others.

Hazel as XVII. The Star

I'm going to keep loving you like you're still here.

When I think of "The Star" as a small but inextinguishable light in the darkness, Hazel seems like the obvious choice. Although we left her deeply wounded, I think she still has a flicker of her hope, faith, and purpose.

Grace Monroe as XVIII. The Moon

But it's unfair for me to tell you how to understand yourself. I mean, I don't even fully understand me.

Grace is probably the most complex and dynamic character on the show and hence one of the most difficult to place. I considered Empress, Strength, Devil, and Judgement for her... I think ultimately, lies and illusions are the most unifying theme of her character arc. Also, from a Persona angle, her pursuit of status out of a lack of true self-worth reminds me of Ai and Mishima.

Alan Dracula as XIX. The Sun

Brought together by the majesty of a superpowered deer!

I'm sorry dkjasfklads this is largely because I thought it was funny to have this completely inexpressive dead-eyed deer as Sun akfk but also... like... it kind of works okay!!! Think about the genuine joy and comfort and positivity he brings to Lake and Jesse (and me)!

The New Apex as XX. Judgement

"Then what are we gonna be?" "Guess we'll have to figure it out?"

This is kind of a Persona mythology gag again because of Judgement being a group social link near the end of the narratives of P3 and P4, when the protagonists have pierced through the lies and actually figured out who the villain of their game is and are ready to really start making progress.

0 as XI. The World

Ah, train does it again!

It's an ending and the completion of a journey, but also the beginning of a new one. And the world is literally what the passengers receive at the end of their train journey. Welcome home.

#infinity train #infinity train spoilers #protagonists of IT #Anonymous

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elianas-cozycorner · 4 years ago

Text

𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

Title: “Midnight Confessions”

Author’s Note: One of the final three (3) requests I have from 2018, this particular scenario is something I’ve wanted to write for a while. I absolutely love this plot device, no matter how cliché or overused it may be. I hope you guys enjoy this and have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. To the anonymous requester, I hope you see this. I really wanted to bring justice to your idea, even if it’s more than two years late.

Request: “Could u possibly do something where the reader and McCree share a bed on a mission (or maybe they just get hurt and r resting) and McCree lays w/ them n stuff and while they’re “sleeping” he confesses his love and that he’s scared to love but it turns out they heard the whole thing ? if not that’s fine, thank u! I love ur writing!” - Anon

Rating/Pairing:

Jesse McCree/Reader

Fluff & Brief Angst; GA (General Audiences)

2nd Person, Gender Neutral

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2.2k | Added a “read more” due to the length.

When operations go wrong, there’s little that can be done to reverse the initial mistake. Not only are lives put on the line, but so too are relationships and the foundations of friendship. Being under constant fire, unable to reach backup or safety, really wears down the body and mind. Though some may find a thrill in it, eventually that too wears away.

In your case, you had been pinned down for nearly an hour. Though your position had been defensible, it was on track to becoming more of a hazard than anything else. It wasn’t clear who was to blame for the mishap, everything having happened so fast, but one moment the team you were apart of was working together and the next you were alone with Jesse McCree.

Sighing, you pressed your back to a stone wall. It was one of the only walls that sheltered you from the flying bullets and sniper fire. Jesse was crouched across from you, trying his best to peer around the corner for the next viable bit of cover.

You picked up your earpiece, taking it from the place it had fallen when you had run for cover. Quickly bringing up two of your fingers, you activated the line. “Commander? Commander are you there?”

Jesse spared you a glance, worry in his eyes as he took in your features, before turning back to make sure no one had advanced on your position. There was a faint crackle of static before your attempt at communication was answered.

“I’m here, agent.” Reyes’ voice was rough and you could hear the noise of gunfire through his link. “What’s your status?”

You knew that he could hear the gunfire on your end as you answered. “We’re pinned down, I don’t think McCree and I will be able to get to you.”

Reyes cursed under his breath before answering. “Everyone’s on board. We’re ready to get the hell out of here. This aircraft has taken too much damage for us to wait any longer. We’ll give you as much cover as possible, but you two are gonna have to get yourselves out of there. Figure out how to get somewhere safe, you know the drill, agent.”

McCree, whose communications system was linked to yours, nodded. You could see he was too focused to give a verbal answer, so you kept speaking. “Copy that. We’re ready when you are.”

__________

“We’ll keep in touch, agent.” The words ran through your head over and over again, even opened the door in front of you.

After Reyes had provided enough aerial cover for you and McCree to get to safety, you had both gone to the nearest safe house. Each assignment Blackwatch, or Overwatch, gave its agents was well thought out and discussed. Drop sites that were busy had cheap motels or hostels listed in their information packets, or predetermined safe houses when the locations were more secluded. In this case, it was a secluded safe house. The information sheet you had pulled up earlier made mention of a stocked kitchen, running water, and first aid supplies. What it had failed to tell you was how small the place would be.

It was practically a one room flat in the form of a cabin. Half walls separated the less private rooms, with only the bedroom and bathroom having proper privacy. The rooms were cold, the thermostat untouched for a long time, but it would do.

Flicking on a light switch, you watched as the florescent bulbs lit up the kitchenet and living space nearest the door. A deep sigh escaped you as you finally allowed your body to relax, dropping the small bag on your shoulder near the door. “Well, Cowboy, this is home for the next 48 hours.”

The brunette man behind you had the decency not to laugh as he made his way past you. “Seems so, sugar. You can take the bathroom first, I’ll take a look ‘n’ find somethin’ for-”

“Us to change into. I know. You talked about showering and getting your wounds dressed the entire way here, Jesse.” You said, smiling despite the pain of your split lip, as you went to find bath supplies.

“Wasn’t aware I talked so much.” He laughed, shaking his head and making his way to the bedroom.

“You always talk, Jesse.” You were already halfway into the bathroom, a towel in hand, when you heard him laugh in reply.

You took your time removing your armor and torn, military grade suit. It wasn’t often that you came out of a skirmish so battered, so the shock didn’t fully register until you’d locked yourself in the room alone. Sighing, you focused on getting out of you clothes and tried to ignore the sounds of bullets echoing in your head. It was more painful a process than you’d expected, as you’d gotten grazed by more bullets and scraped by more gravel than you cared to admit.

Just as you let out a hiss, there came a knock on the bathroom door. You heard Jesse’s spurs jangle before he spoke. “You alright, darlin’? I left some clothes out on a chair here.”

You called out, “Just fine, Jesse! Thank you, I’ll grab them on my way out.”

“Sure thing.” He smiled as he spoke, and though you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in voice.

It made you smile as well, knowing you had your best friend looking out for you. The longer you thought about Jesse and his kindness, his thoughtful but flirty nature, the more your cheeks reddened and stomach fluttered. You’d harbored feelings for the modern gunslinger for a long time, nearly as long as you’d been friends. It was something you kept to yourself, mainly because of Blackwatch’s strict dating guidelines for its agents. Stepping into the shower, you knew the next 48 hours would be tough to get through.

_________

Stepping out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, you found yourself staring directly at the bare chest of your cowboy partner. “Jesse.”

“Darlin’.” The smile on his face grew, becoming a large smirk, as he noticed the blush across your face. “Clothes are over there. Mind gettin’ out o’ the way? Man’s got to shower just as much as the next person.”

You shook your head, blinking quickly as you looked back at his face. “You’re the one in my way, Jesse.”

Chuckling, he stepped aside and let you grab the clothes before heading into the bathroom. The image of his bare chest replayed in your mind as you dressed, despite you having seen him that way before. Jesse was built well, sturdy and muscular. His body had definition and flexed with strength when he moved. Slim, muscled, and padded in just the right places, you’d say. Attractive. That’s what it was. Jesse had an attractive body and personality.

Perhaps that’s why you’d spent so long harboring feelings for him, when you could have tried getting over it. Jesse was a good man, though he had his flaws, and he was always kind to you. He had been your first friend in Blackwatch, your first confidant. You’d been thick as thieves for the longest time, attached at the hip. You’d known him for so long, that it hadn’t been a surprise to you that you found his body similarly attractive. It had been painful to watch him go through relationships and flings, wishing one day he would chose you and stay.

Sighing, you tried to get rid of those intrusive thoughts by taking care of your injuries. Knowing Jesse McCree so well also meant knowing his trouble with commitment and genuine emotion. He got scared, you could easily tell, and pushed people away when they got close. He may have been worth it, worth the bumps in the road, but no one else knew him enough to know that. Not like you did.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Your thoughts were interrupted by McCree coming out of the shower, fully dressed, and fiddling with his peacekeeper. He seemed to have taken care of his flesh wounds while in the bathroom, a couple bandages visible beneath the black shirt he wore. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, no hat on his head, and accentuated the small cut running down his temple.

He barely looked up as he stopped in the doorway. “Darlin’-”, He started.

You shook your head, standing to take his pistol from his grip. “Let me look at that cut, Jesse.”

Looking up at you, he gave you a gentle smile. “No need, darlin’, it’s not very deep. Ought to heal like a charm.”

“No, sir, can’t have that getting infected now. Besides,” You glanced at the only, small bed in the room and then at the couch just beyond the doorway to the room. “We can talk about sleeping arrangements as I do.”

Wordlessly, he sat at the edge of the bed and let you get to work. “You know, that couch is old.”

“Mhm,” You focused on your task, making sure to pay attention to his words nonetheless. “It’ll likely be a back killer.”

“Absolutely. Reckon I should take it.” He moved his head a little, wincing at the pressure you put against the cut.

“I have the better back, Jess.”

“Sure, but we wanna keep it that way. ‘Sides, I wouldn’t be much o’ a gentleman if I let you take it, would I?” His comment made you laugh and he smiled at you, glad to see you so happy.

“Stuck in the West again? Acts of chivalry are rare nowadays, Jess.” You said and pulled your hands away from his face, finished with your work.

“We could share.” His suggestion threw you off, especially when you saw he wasn’t joking.

“You sure?” Your voice was a little nervous as you spoke, something he picked up on.

“As the day I was born. Only if you’re comfortable, darlin’.”

“Yeah. Okay,” You smiled, helping him to his feet.

________

Jesse was wide awake, his thoughts running a mile an hour. On his back, he could feel where your back met his side, he could feel each even breath you took. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you were awake. You lay facing away from him, eyelids heavy, breath even, and mind somewhere else. He assumed you’d fallen asleep.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his hands from behind his head and turned around. He tried his best not to wake you, keeping his chest from being flush against your back. He tried his best to keep his hands from touching you, but couldn’t help it when he reached up to brush some hair out of your face. It caught your attention, but you didn’t move, too sleepy to care. You just listened as he sighed once more and shifted just a little closer.

“Darlin’,” He whispered. “I’ve gotten ‘round to thinkin’...”

He paused, almost as if trying to convince himself to stop talking. “I’ve been thinkin’, and I can’t live without you. I’m scared. I’ve loved you for so long now but I’m jus’ so afraid. I could’ve lost you today. I don’t know what went wrong, I don’t want that fear of not knowing in my heart, but I ain’t strong enough to tell you-”

He took a deep, steadying breath before reaching out to you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and, carefully so as to not ‘wake’ you, pulled you completely into him. “Look at me. Confessin’ in the dark while you sleep, not hearin’ a word. It’s pathetic. Truth is, no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to say the words to your face. I want to look at you and say it, I want to keep you close, but I’m a coward. I’ve never been the type of man to commit to no one like that. I don’t think I’m the kind of man to love like that. Never have been. But damn, darlin’, if I can’t help wantin’ that with you. Want to keep you safe, by my side, always, but... but I ain’t the type of man worthy of you like that...”

He trailed off and you, now wide awake, could feel small drops of water hit the back of your neck. Jesse McCree, the strong, charming cowboy was crying. It broke your heart, so much so that all the words you’d thought to say to him left your mind. He was so worth it, so much more than he gave himself credit for, and you loved him. Just as he was.

Turning around, you watched his face mold from sorrow into shock. He tried speaking, but you didn’t give him the chance, “Darlin’-”

Your lips met his before he could utter any more words. It was a soft, emotional kiss that tasted of salt. His tears fell harder, and you only pulled away to hug him closer. Wrapping your arms around him and locking your legs together, you didn’t have to say much to get him to hear you.

“You are my everything, Jesse. I’ve always loved you.”

#overwatch fanfic #overwatch #fanfiction #fanfic #overwatch x reader #overwatch/reader #mccree x reader #jesse mccree #mccree #overwatch mccree #blackwatch mccree #fluff #friends to lovers #confession #sharing a bed

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sondrawr · 4 years ago

Text

Where Monsters Dwell

“What kind of place is this?” “The kind of place where fairy tales live and monsters dwell.” —Smoke Bitten

Adam Hauptman is intimately acquainted with fear. It was born in a jungle in Vietnam and never quite left him. Even in his happiest moments—of which there were many, especially recently—it lurks in the fringes. Lying in wait.

When he sees Mercy broken on the burnt grass, seemingly dead, he feels that fear claw up his chest and strangle him. He blacks out for god knows how long, his worst fear playing like a feedback loop in his mind. It isn’t until Samuel, still wolf, bites him in the arm that he finally comes to.

That’s how Adam finds himself, naked and half covered in blood, cradling Mercy’s body. His pack huddles around him, worry creasing their faces. He feels the stink of his fear billowing out of him like smoke, choking everyone around him.

“She’s alive, damn it!” Gary finally manages to gasp. He is panting, voice raspy. How long had he been trying to tell him?

Adam reaches down into himself and feels for that thread-thin bond that connects him to his heart’s mate. It’s there, flickering. He grasps it in both hands, wrapping it around his wrist, anchoring himself to sanity. To her.

Mercy survives that night, like she has done so often before. But one day her luck will run out; his fear whispers the words he knows too well. She’s not like Coyote—damn the man—who resurrects like the sun every morning.

Adam hates beyond telling that her unconquerable spirit is wrapped in such an insubstantial thing as human skin and bones.

:::

Adam first met Mercy Thompson in Montana when she was about thirteen years old. He was up on business, Alpha of a New Mexico pack and newly engaged to a blonde, 22-year-old coed named Christy.

Mercy at the time, before the deaths of her foster parents robbed her of childhood, was still all scraped knees and awkward arms of adolescence. Jutting chin and slumped shoulders—defiant and bored.

There was a ghost of a bruise on her face from the accident where she wrapped Bran’s brand new sports car around a tree. He had heard of that incident within hours of it happening, as he suspected most wolves did, even across the ocean. Mercy’s antics were already famous.

She sat on a chair outside Bran’s office, the scuffed toe of her sneaker knocking into a leggy console table nearby. Looking at him sidelong, she had the air of someone waiting their turn at the principal’s office.

When the door finally opened to let him in, he asked, “What did she do this time?” He stepped around Bran to enter the office.

Bran’s mouth pressed flat in an irritated line, while Charles smirked in the corner. He was the one who answered: “Something about chocolate Easter bunnies.”

“She poisoned a group of boys at school,” Bran snapped, closing the door a little too roughly behind Adam.

“Really?” That seemed a bit extreme for the young girl, whose reputation for pranks were mostly harmless, if effective.

“She injected several chocolate Easter bunnies with ipecac,” Charles explained. “And then warned the boys not to steal them, or ‘they would pay.’ They, of course, did not listen. Apparently the boys had been in the habit of stealing the younger kids’ candy for a while.”

Adam laughed despite himself.

“She wants for discipline,” Bran said with a frown.

“Mercy has plenty of discipline,” Charles answered. “It’s the focus of it, that’s the problem. Her interests are too narrow and she has an overdeveloped sense of justice.”

“And her foster father can’t do anything?” asked Adam.

Charles smirked. “If Mercy were a wolf, I wouldn’t be surprised if she outranked him. Any good she does is out of love for Bryan and his mate, not because of fear or intimidation.”

That was, Adam realized, the principle by which Mercy lived her life. It was the driving force of all she did for her family and friends—the pack she forged for herself, not with magic ties but by fierce loyalty and reckless love.

:::

It has been months since she recovered from her devastating injuries. Injuries that Samuel said at first would be the end of her. Her survival is nothing short of a miracle and, Adam suspects, a bit of Coyote’s magic.

Now night holds new terrors for him. He lays in bed at night just listening to the steady beating of his mate’s fragile, mortal heart. Dreading the day when it would inevitably stop.

:::

Mercy was twenty-three when he next saw her in the middle of a Washington desert. Alone in the world but still causing trouble. The first order of business for his newly arrived pack was eliminating the rogue wolves who were harassing her. Saved without so much as a thank you.

Was it coincidence or conspiracy that brought her to the Tri-Cities when Bran had ordered Adam to move his pack north from New Mexico? Coincidence on her part probably, but definitely not Bran’s, whose machinations were wide reaching and infamous.

That Adam bought the property behind her trailer was pure, ornery spite on his part.

She had marched up to him on the first day of construction and stuck a finger in his chest. “Tell Bran that I don’t need a babysitter,” she told him, eyes flashing. “I’ve done fine for eight years without his help—I’m done with wolves.”

“Good to know,” he answered, because he knew that response would drive her crazy, and turned back toward the construction of his pack house. He imagined her making faces at the back of his head and smiled.

:::

He kisses a line down her body, pausing at the shiny-pink of each new scar. Scars she earned in defense of his pack—in defense of him.

And he knows his love is killing her.

Oh god, would her life be better without him? Yes, the fear—the monster—inside him says. Yessss. We will kill herrrrr.

Panic like bile rises in his throat, and he gulps it down. Beneath him Mercy tenses, sensing his change of mood. He murmurs quietly, nuzzling her, lulling her back into softness underneath him. His lovely Mercy. His mate, for who he would willingly lay down his soul, let alone his body.

Whom he would kill for. Without question.

This. This will be his goodbye, then.

He presses a kiss to her inner knee, to her neck, and then presses into her, drawing a sigh from her lips. With his own he continues his careful ministrations, whispering a benediction against every mark on her skin that dares to be there because of him.

:::

His touch is a disease. His touch is a curse.

He can’t bear lying next to her and not touching her, so he doesn’t. He stays late in his office. He sleeps in the spare guest room. It’s killing him, but every day she’s alive, and it’s worth it.

It’s killing him that she wanders the house with those empty eyes, a line of concern between her brows, the hurt and confusion that clearly marks her face.

But at least she is alive. And soon, it will be over.

:::

Adam’s favorite memory of Mercy—the one he thinks of before he puts the gun to his head—is of her in the wedding dress too fancy for the church reception that his pack and daughter put together. She’s dancing with Jesse, at the heart of the people he loved most in the world, swaying to a country song blasting from the church’s ancient speaker system. And she turns to him and smiles.

He can see it as clear as if it were right in front of him. There was so much love in her face then. How different are those faces, the one from his memory and the one Mercy wears at this moment, when she finally sees him for the monster he is.

But she is not disgusted and horrified, as he feared she would be. She is furious. She throws a barrage of words against him, her unfettered anger like a battering ram.

In the years Adam had known and loved Mercy, he has become intimately acquainted with her many moods. Sneaky, playful, worried, content. They were as familiar to him as the feel of Mercy’s calloused hands in his.

Her white hot rage was something entirely new. And through clenched teeth she seethes a truth so utterly profound, that in that moment it shatters the madness that grips him. He lowers the gun in his hand.

Three simple words they had spoken to each other again and again. Whispered in passion and in play. Promised—sworn.

“You are mine.”

:::

He believes her. And for now, so does the monster.

You are mine.

He follows her home, to bed. And though he can’t make love to her like he wants, he worships her body with oil and hands and mouth.

It isn’t until she is completely sated and asleep when the monster rips through his body again. A monster that he now realizes is the ugly marriage of his own fear and self loathing, and Elizaveta’s death curse.

But instead of hurting his mate like Adam fears, the monster scrabbles out from beneath the covers and huddles in the corner of the room. It sits there watching his mate, the covers rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing.

Within a few minutes, the even breaths stutter and stop. “Adam?” she calls, voice rough with sleep.

It’s the monster that growls in response, and Adam waits. It didn’t work, he thinks. The monster is still here. Will you finally leave me like you’re supposed to?

And still he remembers her promises: You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.

“For fuck’s sake,” she says sounding annoyed. “Get back to bed. I’m cold.”

Oh, my Mercy.

After a moment, the monster cautiously approaches the bed, and it creaks under the sudden weight. It wraps itself around her, tucking her head under its chin. She draws up the covers over them both, and they settle to sleep.

For the first time in a long time Adam prays. Let this be enough. This love. Let me be enough to keep her safe.

If God is kind and he is lucky, maybe it will be.

Maybe the monster will love her, too.

#mercy thompson #mercyverse #Mercy Thompson fanfic #my writing #sondrawr writes #adam hauptman #mercyverse alphabet series

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