#the close encounter of cabin 7

[unchartedstarsocs]

What do you mean I haven't posted this already-

Anyways, here's a cover I did for a minicomic I'm making!

The comic is intended to be a campfire story in my (WIP) comic, The Close Encounter Of Cabin Seven. In the story, the main character, Oliver, meets a girl (currently unnamed) and it does not end well for him. Fun fact: he's holding a love letter in the cover.

Here's the sketch:

[unchartedstarsocs]

I'm currently working on a comic, and for world building reasons I had to come up with an entire written language.

Eventually in the story there will be a translator, but in the beginning there isn't one so it would be fun for fans to go back and translate little details I left.

cannot recommend more putting secrets and hints in your creative work that you dont expect anyone to figure out

[animasolaoriginal]

(9) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 9: The Temptation

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 4.4k -- READ ON AO3

when the mind wanders

Chapter 8 -- Chapter 10

Additional warning: explicit sexual content ahead! (The smut tag makes sense now!)

9

The constant sway of Thunder's strong steps through the plain have him quickly losing focus. With Nebbia pressed to his chest, wedged between his thighs, held securely in his arm, her feet bouncing slightly, her whole body rubbing against him with every up and down motion, Ben's mind starts to wander.

He sees her outside a small cabin, their cabin, deep in the woods, close to a lake, where she tends to the garden while he hunts or catches fish, where she hangs the sheets out to dry in the soft breeze, her long brown hair moving in the same flow, her skirt billowing around her. She has to stretch to reach the line he's spanned between the trees, balancing on her toes as she fixes the sheets to it with the wooden clothespins, her shirt riding up slightly, exposing just a sliver of soft, pale skin.

It's his shirt, he notices, the plaid one he's given her, so many moons ago. She's tied it around her waist, knotted in the front, the sleeves rolled up, just enough buttons undone to tease at the soft mounds beneath the warm fabric.

When she returns to the cabin, she finds him leaning by the window, watching her. There's a blush on her pale cheeks when she looks up at him. He doesn't hesitate when he grabs her waist and hoists her onto the kitchen counter effortlessly. A little yelp escapes her, then a laugh, her smile warm and happy when she extends her arms and pulls him closer, wrapping them around his neck, playing with his hair.

He obliges, indulges her, leans in and presses his mouth to hers. He can feel the warmth and wetness of her tongue when it moves between his lips, when it meets his, tastes him, licks him, makes his heart flutter, a sensual dance while he steps closer, caging her in, his hands running under her thighs to urge her to wrap her legs around him. She does.

She always does. He deepens the kiss, swallows her mewls when he moves his large hands around her legs and under her skirt to grab her rear, sinks his long fingers into her plump ass cheeks, kneads them, pulls them apart slightly, teases between them. She rubs her pelvis against him, and she must feel how hard he is for her.

He's always hard for her. It's almost a problem, if she wouldn't know how to help him with it. Her hands move expertly, down the back of his neck, fingernails scraping over his broad shoulders, snake around to the front, unbutton his shirt, all while her lips are glued to his, tongue sliding against his, accompanied by frantic little puffs right into his mouth.

When her tongue plunges deeper and he invites it with a gentle suck, her warm fingers scrape over his chest, down his toned abs, lower, lower. His belt clinks when she opens it, her delicate hands gliding down over the bulge, palming him, teasing him. One grips him through the fabric, the other slips into the thin opening between his warm skin and the waistband.

He groans against her, gripping her ass, groping it hard as she brushes her fingertips along his sensitive skin. Impatience makes him twitch, jerk his hips against her hands. She finally unbuttons his jeans completely, pushes it down enough to free his hard erection. He can only grunt into her mouth when she closes her small hands around his girth before she starts moving them up and down, in a twisting motion, how he's shown her, with just enough grip and strength, to make his stomach tighten up.

His hands slip upwards, sliding over her sides, over the front of her (his) shirt, palming at her small breasts, eager fingers playing with the buttons. He's tempted to just rip it open, but she'd be furious with him for destroying another shirt, telling him buttons are hard to come by.

A laugh rumbles through his throat as she keeps nibbling on his bottom lip, rubbing her chin against his beard, the scrape adding to the breathy little moans that tumble over her lips as he slips his big hands into her open shirt and cups her soft mounds, weighing them gently, kneading them carefully.

Her hard nipples press into his palms while she squirms on the kitchen counter, her legs tightening around his waist, feet digging into his lower back. He lets go of her breasts and moves lower, gathers her skirt and pushes it aside enough to expose her pink little pussy with the soft patch of hair right above. He breaks the kiss to look down at it, while she keeps planting soft kisses on his cheek and jaw and down his neck, still pumping his cock expertly in her small hands.

Her folds are glistening, she's so wet, he can tell, and when he tests the waters, literally, she mewls softly. His fingers slip into her slick, up and down, up and down, until he dips two of them into her tightness. She arches her back, tilts her neck back, moans softly at the stretch, and as he starts pumping his fingers in and out slowly, he finds her mouth again, plunging his tongue in, tasting her as breathless whimpers echo in his ears.

She's stopped stroking his cock, and he feels it throbbing in her hold, ready to feel more of her. Kissing her deeply, he keeps his digits buried deep in her cute little cunt, scissoring them, stretching her, massaging her soft insides, while his other hand gently pries her hands off his arousal before he grabs it and brings it closer to her heat.

A disappointed little huff of air escapes her when he pulls his fingers out, only to be replaced by a loud gasp when he presses the head of his cock against her entrance. It's taken her a long time to be able to take all of him, and he thinks fondly about the many times they've tried, endless nights and even longer days, holed up in bed, or on any other surface, each time an inch more, until he could finally bottom out inside her tight wet warmth.

She leans back on her arms, bracing herself as he moves his hips closer, closer, the tip plunges into her hole, sinks deeper, she moans softly, calls his name, and he gets lost in the feeling of being choked so deliciously. So tight... so warm...

“Ben...” Her walls clench around him, pulling him deeper. “Ben.” The heat is intoxicating, he can barely breathe. “Ben!”

His eyes fly open, and he blinks in confusion, squinting at the bright sun, breathing heavily, trying to focus through the haze inside his mind. His stomach is tight and the strain on his jeans is almost unbearable. And against that very obvious bulge presses a cute little butt, clad in a brown riding skirt, tied in the waist, where his hand rests, big and heavy on her flat stomach. He swallows dryly as his gaze wanders higher until he meets Nebbia's bright green eyes.

Something warm creeps up his neck. “Huh?”

A shy smile curls her lips. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, watching him closely, a little too closely for his taste.

It takes him a long moment to realize he's sitting on Thunder's back, under the blazing sun, and an even longer moment that they're no longer moving. The horse's long neck is bent downwards, and he seems to graze peacefully.

“I think you fell asleep,” she whispers, shifting slightly against him. “Glad you didn't fall off...”

“M'sorry,” he growls, rubbing his face with his free hand. “Just a little... daydream, I guess...”

“I think you might have a sunstroke,” she says, tilting her head. “Should have thought to bring a hat after all, eh?” Her teasing tone makes his lips twitch.

He puts his hand on top of her head, feeling her warm soft hair, ruffles it playfully. She tries to squirm away with a soft laugh. Inhaling deeply, he lets go of her completely and pushes both hands through his messy hair, groaning quietly. “Why aren't we moving anymore?” he mumbles.

“Thunder must have felt that you weren't... really with us anymore, so he slowed down on his own and decided to have a little snack,” she explains, turning slightly back to weave her fingers through the horse's long mane.

Ben takes another deep breath and looks around, still trying to fight the remnants of that delicious daydream. Another grunt escapes him. Focus! The horse decided to stop near a little meadow off the path, and he can hear a creek bubbling close-by. When he looks back, however, there's more than a little sunburn prickling on his neck.

They haven't come far. Too close to town still, they shouldn't stay here. But he could use a break, a quiet moment behind a tree maybe... Rubbing his face once more for good measure, he then leans around Nebbia, grabs the horn and hoists himself off Thunder's large back, his boots thudding quietly in the soft grass beneath.

Without waiting, he grabs the girl's waist and pulls her off as well, gently putting her down in front of him. “Let's take five,” he says in a deep growl, already moving past her towards the tree line and the creek. “Stay close to Thunder,” he calls to her, shoving one hand into his pocket to adjust himself.

Goddamn daydream...

He doesn't follow through on his first instinct to relieve the ache with his right hand, instead he walks right into the creek, boots and all, crouches down and splashes the cold water into his heated face. It helps a little. But the guilt burns on. Imagining these things with her, so detailed, so real, it's wrong. He shouldn't be thinking this, not yet, not until he is sure that he's not her –

Another splash into his face. Not. Splash. Her. Splash. Father.

An angry grunt escapes him as he gets up and kicks his boot through the water, scaring away some critters. Fuck. Rubbing his wet face, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he groans a little more. What was he thinking, taking her away? Nothing, that's the problem, he didn't think a single thought. It was all instinct, as usual.

The same instinct that almost got him hanged.

Inhaling deeply, he pushes one hand through his hair, then lowers it and rolls his shoulders. A few more deep breaths through his nose, and he is walking back to her and the giant horse. She's feeding him tufts of grass, watching the animal with a loving gaze, patting his large head. Innocent. So fucking innocent.

Slowly, she turns her head towards him, frowning when she sees him – and the state he's in. “Did you fall into the creek?” she asks, a smirk playing around her lips.

He looks down at himself, shirt wet, boots and jeans wet, hair ruffled, water droplets still rolling down his temples. He only huffs a groan and walks up to Thunder, slipping his hand underneath the saddle. They should take a longer break soon, the poor animal's been carrying them and the heavy saddle for too long now. The brutal sun on his shiny black coat isn't helping.

But they have to get away a little further. Too close to town.

With his mind still spinning a little, battling dreams and memories and future scenarios, he puts his boot into the stirrup and hoists himself up the horse's back, settling into the seat once more. Nebbia stares up at him, surprised. And she should be, he usually puts her on first.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and holds out his hand to her. “Still a little fuzzy in the head,” he says with a tired smirk. She walks towards him, one hand on Thunder's neck, the other about to grab his fingers.

Suddenly he hears hooves in the distance. Dropping his hand, he turns around, instinctively grabbing the reins to make Thunder move. Nebbia steps away with a little yelp as the large animal bows his long neck and snorts loudly at the sudden command. Ben's eyes scan the horizon. The shapes of riders approach, three, no, four. Squinting at them, he can feel his skin prickling.

The West is vast, and meeting other riders in the middle of nowhere is never a good omen, no matter their intentions. He has to be careful. Especially now. Because of her. He pries his eyes from the fast approaching horses and the men on top of them, holding out his hand to Nebbia again.

“Come on,” he urges, looking down at her. Her eyes are wide, fearful, her lips trembling. She grabs his wrist, he grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.

The sound of hooves comes closer, his heart is racing. He leans down more, his other hand extending. The angle is awkward, he hooks his hand under her arm, grips at the fabric of her blouse, pulls her up.

She clambers forward, small hands gripping at his shoulders, and somehow she ends up facing him, her knees bent and pressing against his stomach, her skirt bunched up between them, the pointy tips of her boots tucked under his thigh. But there's no time.

“Hold on,” he says, wrapping one arm around her back, pulling her against him as she presses her chest into his, arms tight around his neck while she looks over his shoulder.

“Ben!” she gasps, but he doesn't have to see what she sees, he can hear them, circling around them. He tugs at the reins, presses his spurs into Thunder's stomach, urges him on. The large horse neighs in protest, but moves, turns in a half-circle, then falls into faster steps, away from whoever is catching up to them.

“Hey!” a deep voice calls from behind them. “We just wanna talk!”

Ben grunts, pushing Thunder forwards, tightening his grip around the girl on his lap. The horse dashes along the tree line, close to the creek, right beneath the low hanging branches. He ducks his head, putting his hand on Nebbia's to shield her as well. She grips at him, curling into a ball on his thighs.

He's white-knuckling the reins, maneuvering his steed into the forest as the hooves behind him become louder. “How many?” he grunts, then feels how Nebbia emerges from her cowered position and looks over his shoulder again.

“Three,” she breathes.

Where's the fourth? He looks around, ducking from another branch. Thunder's heavy hooves stomp along the soft forest floor, tip-tapping urgently as he tries to move him around the tree trunks. Bad idea to bring a large horse into a dense forest. But he didn't have a choice.

Low hanging branches grip at his shoulders, his arms, scrape over his head. He holds Nebbia tight against him, shielding her, her rapid breaths hitting his collarbone, her fingers digging into the back of his neck, causing shivers to rush down his spine, straight into –

Ugh. Not the time.

The noises behind him are quieter now, and he dares a look over his shoulder. They've fallen back. He looks ahead again, clenching his jaw. They're circling around. He pulls on the reins hard, making Thunder whinny angrily. With another tug and a sharp poke into his side, he makes the horse turn around, not the way they came, but further into the forest.

His heart is so loud in his ears, it's hard to focus on the surrounding noises. Nebbia's panicked little breaths aren't helping either. “It's okay,” he whispers, pressing her against him, large hand splayed on her back, fingers curling slightly around her small body. “Don't worry, we'll get away.”

She swallows hard, a little gulping sound against his shoulder. “What do they want?” she asks quietly.

Her, is his first response, but then he wonders why. Why here. Those men didn't look like they belonged to the Daniels family, he would have known. He'd recognize those bastards a mile away. No, those were different men, normal men too, not the law, no Pinkertons, so what do they want from her?

“I'd rather not find out,” he replies, spurring Thunder on more as the trees stand gradually further apart, opening up to a meadow beyond. Holding her in his arm, he leans in a little, grabbing the horn behind her, when the horse falls into a steady canter, the wind rushing in his ears.

He stays close to the edge of the forest, eyes scanning his surroundings. Are they gone? That easy? He slows Thunder and straightens up, turning more to look behind him, listening. Only the birds, the horse's loud snorts, Nebbia's breaths, his own heart. He's about to calm down, loosen his grip around her, but then he sees it.

Movement in the corner of his eye. To their left. He whips his head around, stares into the forest. The rider approaches slowly, stupidly confident, close enough that he can see the sneer on his face. Unfamiliar. Ben tugs on the reins, spurs pressed into Thunder's stomach. The horse neighs loudly, whips his head up, snorts, follows the curve of Ben's arm and turns right.

“Wait!” the man calls after him. “I don't mean any harm!”

Ben looks back at him, sees him raising his hands in a surrendering motion. “What do you want?” he shouts over the noise of his thundering heart, holding Nebbia closer to him. The curious thing turns her head slightly, looks back to the stranger. The hand on her back itches, inches closer to her hip, to his hip, to the gun in the holster.

“Just a look,” the other man drawls, chewing on the stump of a cigar, as his beady eyes wander over the sight in front of him.

The girl on his lap stiffens, grips his neck tighter, gasps, but doesn't look away. Ben stares at the rider. Well-fed horse, wealthy, not the typical cowboy look. A lot of blacks and reds, expensive looking clothes. His age or older. A fedora on dark hair, a clean shaven face.

“Why are you so skittish?” he continues, eyes fixed on Nebbia. “No need to run away from us...”

“I don't trust strangers,” Ben replies darkly, feeling his skin crawl by the way the man watches the girl. “And I don't like being followed, mister,” he adds, tugging gently on the reins, turning Thunder more, ready to bolt again. His hand rests on his gun now, ready to pull and shoot the bastard.

“My apologies, sir,” the other man says slowly. “We were just curious... haven't seen such a beauty in a long while, you know?”

Clenching his jaw, he feels shivers rushing down his spine, more so when Nebbia leans closer against him, holding onto him tightly. “Awful lot of hassle to take a look at a girl...” he grunts, fingers closing around the cold metal of his pistol.

The stranger leans back in his saddle, hands folded over the horn of it, a lopsided grin on his face. “Anything for one of Roberto's,” he says, his dark eyes wandering up to meet Ben's.

He frowns, something hot and heavy sinking into his guts. His mind is spinning. Fuck. It takes him three seconds, while his heart skips a beat, his hand moves back around Nebbia, his heels sink into Thunder's stomach, and then with a tug to the reins, he moves the horse along, spurring him on with a loud call. The animal snorts, neighs loudly, but follows the command instantly, turning and bringing his massive body quickly into motion.

He doesn't look back, but Nebbia does, as they gallop over the meadow, away from the stranger. “He's not following us,” she gasps against him, fingernails digging into his skin as she holds onto him frantically.

Ben only grunts, unsure if that's a good thing or not.

And as they dash away at breakneck speed, Ben's head is hurting from the sudden onslaught of memories. Faces, names, words, threats, cries and shouts and noises, tumbling over each other. Roberto. Roberto... The Daniels don't own the brothel, they're just henchmen, working for somebody else. There are always more layers.

He's been so fucking stupid!

With a sudden grunt, he pulls at the reins, forcing Thunder to turn right. The mystery deepens. He has to know. He has to know! They have to go back. He needs answers.

Nebbia clings to him, her soft but slightly panicked breaths warm against his collarbone. They reach another patch of forest, and he slows Thunder a little, ducking his head when they dash between the trees. His heart races, the horse snorts loudly, he's white-knuckling the reins. Left and right around the thick tree trunks, ducking under low hanging branches, a little jump over obstacles in the path, he's hectic, and they're not even being followed anymore.

Inhaling sharply he stops the horse abruptly. Thunder whinnies angrily, whipping his head up and down, stomping his hooves. Ben closes both arms around Nebbia and just holds her, feels her warmth, hears her surprised little gasps, the tension of her small body, breathes her in, relaxes.

“We have to go back,” he mutters into her soft hair. “I need to talk to your Madam Claire.” The plan is there, she must hold the answers he needs. (Was Keira already pregnant when she got there? If not, who knocked her up? Was it... who Ben fears it was?) But the way is long, and it's completely foolish to return, now that he knows who's really after her. But he needs to know.

“Why?” she whispers against him, moving her hands down his chest before she gives the gentlest of pushes to make him lean back. Their eyes meet, his hands slip to her waist, holding her firmly.

“I have to know, Nebbia,” he says quietly, licking his dry lips. “Have to make sure...” He must not make any sense to her, but she doesn't press, just stares at him with those big, confused eyes that glisten slightly, glowing in the sunlight breaching through the canopy above them.

“Who's Roberto?” she asks after a long moment of just looking at him.

“A very bad man,” he replies. “Pulls a lot of strings around here, his reach is far... I had no idea he'd be interested in a small town brothel... in you...”

The frown on her soft face is almost comical, definitely adorable, and he's tempted to grab her and shower her with kisses. But he inhales deeply instead, rolling his shoulders, swallowing the urge. “You're not bringing me back, are you?” she whispers, chewing on her lip.

His eyebrows almost meet his hairline. “No! Of course not, you won't step another foot in that establishment!” He tightens the grip on her waist, tilting his head. “I'll take you somewhere safe, I promise, then I'll ask your Madam some questions, and will be back with you in no time.”

Her fingers fidget with the buttons of his shirt as she listens, her gaze lowered, jaw working slightly. “What if... what if the answers are not... what you want to hear?” she asks barely audible.

Now his hands are on her cheeks, his thumbs pushing her chin up until she looks at him. “It doesn't matter, remember?” he says softly, leaning slightly closer. “Whatever the answer, it won't change anything. I promised you a better life, I swore to protect you, and I will, no matter the outcome. I just need to know...” It will change a lot, but not the way he'll always be there for her. He'll just have to learn to suppress his urges, control his fucking daydreams...

She licks her lips, he stares at the movement of her tongue, his stomach tightens. Her hands move up his chest, warm, scorching hot through the fabric of his shirt, until he feels her fingertips on his jaw, the scrape of his beard under her soft skin loud in his ears. “It doesn't matter,” she repeats in a breathy whisper as she leans up on her knees, brings her face closer to his, her hands snaking around his head, digging into his hair. “Right?”

He holds his breath, body tense against her. The fucking temptations! Her small fingers press into his scalp, her hot breath ghosts his lips. Her big eyes are full of expectations, desire, need. The exhale he issues through his nose rivals one of Thunder's snorts. Seconds later his mouth has captured hers, his hands pulling her closer, one behind her head, one on her lower back, her body molding into his.

She gasps against him, her small warm wet tongue quickly finding his, the moment heated and desperate, the dance wild and raw. Everything that happened earlier sinks into the kiss, his daydream, the chase, the revelations. And he just feels her, her heat, her body squirming into his, knees pushing between his thighs, just the right pressure. A groan escapes him, a touch like an electric shock.

And as quick and eager as it has started, as harsh and fast it ends, when his hands push down to her upper arms, grab her and lean her back again. She stares up at him, lips parted, trembling, red, rapid little breaths, her eyes big and confused, her cheeks flushed. He presses his own tingling lips into a thin line, tries to ignore the throbbing in his groin, the need burning through his stomach. Instead he focuses on lifting her up, uncurling her legs from his lap, and turns her around until she's sitting with her back to him, legs sideways, tucked between his thighs, but no longer as close, no longer as tempting.

He breathes deeply, leans down and presses his lips to her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “We need to keep going...”

She sighs, body slumping slightly, her small hands closing around the horn of the saddle as she settles in. He leans both arms around her and grabs the reins, gently spurring Thunder on to start moving again. The pace is much calmer as he maneuvers him through the forest, forcing himself to look around, take in his surroundings, look out for dangers, possible followers.

It's eerily quiet around them. But he can't relax, his mind still racing. They're after her, after them. One of Roberto's. Roberto... Roberto fucking DeLuca. This has gotten a lot more complicated all of a sudden.

Chapter 8 -- Chapter 10

End notes: I gotta say, this was my favorite chapter to write thus far, and one I'm particularly proud of. That daydream, finally some smut, and how Ben deals with it, then the chase, I love me some action sequences, I hope I got it across as I intended, hectic, fast, thrilling, unexpected. And the plot is finally going places, at least a little more specifically. Back to where it all began...

Credits to the respective owners of those pictures. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around tumblr. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[thefrogdalorian]

You Are Eternal

✯ Read on AO3 ✯ Word Count: 1423 Rating: Teen Summary: When devastating news that High Magistrate Karga has become one with the Force reaches Din in his cabin on Nevarro, he reflects on the complicated nature of their relationship. Din pays his own tribute to the man who witnessed firsthand his shift from bounty hunter to father. Content Warnings: Major character death. Grief, mourning... I wrote this to try and cope a little with the awful news and it's just.... really sad. Author's Note: I just had to get this out of me tonight. It was my way of coping I guess. I hope Greef lives on somehow in the show, I really do. But I think he was Din's first real friend and their arcs are so similar, it's so sad to think he won't be there anymore. Thank you for reading. RIP Carl, Mando will never be the same without you 💔

Din Djarin was, unfortunately, all-too accustomed to loss. The feeling of grief was not alien to him. Ever since that terrible day on Aq Vetina, when he had lost everything and everyone that he had ever loved, the fear of losing others seemed to loom large over his life, a constant uneasiness that had long clouded his interactions with others. That was, until he had been sent to Arvala-7 and encountered The Child, who he would eventually adopt as his own. It was a chain of events that would not have been possible were it not for the very man whose loss had struck him harder than any blow he had sustained in the profession that had once united them.

Despite how many times Din had undergone the mourning process throughout his life, he found that the news of one of his oldest acquaintances’ passing had hit him particularly hard. The rapping at the door, well after the sun had set on another bright and sunny Nevarrian day, took Din by surprise. But nothing could have prepared him for the message that had promptly been relayed to him. News that had been delivered by a copper-plated droid, of all things. 

When he opened the door to his cabin on Nevaro, the last thing Din expected to hear was news that the High Magistrate had become one with the Force.

In those first few horrible moments after hearing such devastating news, Din found that the sensation resembled a punch to the area just underneath the shiny beskar plate that protected most of his chest and abdomen. Although Din was an extremely skilled fighter, he had occasionally been delivered such agonising blows in that incredibly vulnerable place. Now, Din was reminded of such agony as he processed the news.

Din’s relationship to Greef Karga had undoubtedly been complicated and at times, volatile. A former adversary, to an acquaintance, to possibly something even more… like a friend. Din Djarin did not typically have friends. But as he sat there in his cabin, processing the news after dismissing the droid and removing his helmet, he began to wonder whether, perhaps, he had had one… without even truly realising it.

A friend that had passed to the afterlife, before Din had the opportunity to comprehend how much Greef had truly meant to him.

Of course, there had been Paz. But Din was bound to Paz by Creed, as a fellow Mandalorian. There were no inherent bonds such as that with Greef. Instead, the former leader of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro had become increasingly close to Din. Greef had gradually become a trustworthy presence in an often cruel and treacherous galaxy.

Perhaps it was the shared trauma of the siege in the cantina, when Din and Greef had barely escaped with their lives, which had been the catalyst for their increasing closeness. Until then, Din had wondered whether he could fully trust the older man. After that, though, there was no doubt. Greef Karga was, at the very least, an ally.

All Din knew with any degree of certainty was that as soon as the Razor Crest needed repairs, when Din and Frog Lady had barely escaped with their lives on the frozen planet of Maldo Kreis, it was the coordinates for Nevarro that he had punched in. After being rendered an apostate for removing his helmet and violating the Creed, it was once again Nevarro that Din had journeyed to in order to secure a droid for his expedition to the Mines of Mandalore. On that very visit, when Grogu had been in danger thanks to the rogue IG unit, Din had not hesitated to thrust his son into the arms of Greef Karga, knowing that he would protect the little boy.

Back then, Din could never have foreseen himself settling on Nevarro. He had been so consumed with his quest for redemption that he had promptly rejected Greef’s offer for a tract of land by the lava flats. Yet after retaking Mandalore and adopting Grogu, the land had suddenly become an extremely attractive proposal. The little parcel of land had become the perfect place for Clan Mudhorn to rest between jobs for the New Republic. Din was eternally grateful for Greef’s offer. 

It was true that Greef had done much for Din during the time that they had known each other, but it was equally true that when Nevarro had been under threat from the pirates headed by Gorian Shard, Din had not hesitated to raise a band of Mandalorians to follow him. There were few people in the galaxy that Din would have gone to such lengths for, but Greef Karga was undoubtedly one of them. 

Not to mention the repurposed IG unit that Greef had given to Din, for Grogu to operate, despite Din's reservations. Although it had initially annoyed Din (and the stall holders of Nevarro) as it had given Grogu a way to verbalise his insolence and feed his insatiable appetite, it had been an invaluable aid during the retaking of Mandalore. An aid that would not have been there were it not for Greef. Both Din and Greef owed an enormous debt to each other.

The realisation of what a key figure Greef had been in Din Djarin’s recent history almost sent him tumbling to his knees. That Greef was the man who had perhaps witnessed more closely than any other the shift in Din from a lonely, selfish, bounty hunter with a strict adherence to the Creed, to a man who would do anything to ensure the safety of The Child, even if it meant violating the Way. That Greef was gone.

For a second, Din wanted to run from the cabin, screaming and sobbing, pleading that this could not possibly be true. That Greef would never realise how much he truly meant to Din. But he quickly came to his senses and soon sought solace elsewhere.

Din crept down the hall towards his son’s room, ensuring that in spite of his emotional state, he was as quiet as possible so Grogu was not awakened. He just wanted to be close to him, to feel his presence nearby, a comforting closeness to the special little boy who had changed everything for him. Din was relieved that Grogu was sleeping soundly, his shallow, even breaths continued even as his distraught father stood in the doorway. 

Din feared how much the news would devastate the little boy who was currently sleeping soundly in his crib. Despite how much Din ached to hold him close as comfort for himself, he didn’t have the heart to wake Grogu. Although Din supposed, given the way that Grogu seemed to understand the galaxy around him, that perhaps somehow his son had already sensed the enormous loss of such a monumental presence. A loss that would surely leave a void incapable of being filled in all of their lives. Every sunset on Nevarro, a sight that had once left Din awestruck with its beauty and the vibrance of its colours, would surely seem a little darker from now on.

Din turned his back and left Grogu's room then, fearing that if he stood there for much longer, the tears that had begun to silently creep down his cheeks would develop into a more audible indication of his grief that would wake Grogu. Plus, Din had remembered a certain cupboard in the kitchen, the contents of which would provide a fitting tribute to the High Magistrate.

He had hoped that one day, he might invite Greef to the cabin for the advised smaller gathering to share this luxurious libation with him. Perhaps even face-to-face, without his helmet, such was the increasing number of ways that Din had discovered there were to walk; ways to be Mandalorian.

That would never happen now, Din realised with a pang of sadness as he stepped out onto the porch and into the moonless Nevarrian night. He placed two glasses onto the table by the bench and slowly poured the amber liquid. 

Then Din sat back on the bench, and raised a glass of the Coruscant wine to the stars, in a toast to his old friend. He spoke the sacred words of the ancient language of their people, a daily remembrance that he would now carry out for the man who, despite everything, had become his friend.  

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Greef Karga.”

(I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.)

[jo1sstuff]

@yourstruly9489

Kinda reminds me of Jess for some reason. (cabin 7) What do you think?

Paper things

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

I love the fact that you’re writing about different characters that Mads has portrayed <3 Duncan Vizla is a personal favourite so I was wondering if you could write something about protective! Duncan Vizla? Maybe they capture her and he’s ready to wreak havoc upon them? Hurt / comfort with a bit of make up smut? Only if you can though, no pressure or worries <3 your writing is amazing!

My Saviour

SUMMARY: Duncan goes out with his love Y/N, and she encounters a moment in her life she thought would never happen, but Duncan comes to the rescue and ensures that she feels safe and loved again.

PAIRING: Duncan Vizla x fem! reader

WARNING: 18+, mentions of non-con (brief mention no further details), SMUT, female receiving

NOTES: since there is a scene with a brief assault mentioned, please skip this piece if you don't feel comfortable reading it. Your mental health is more important to me than anything <3

Duncan is protective. Simple as that. He was trained to kill others for a cash prize and honor, among other assains, throughout his whole life. But now, with his life settled in a cabin in the woods and his partner Y/N it puts a brake on his former life and builds anew. His protectives and killer instincts go in overdrive when he is out with you, whether in a coffee shop, shop, cinema, or anywhere you want to go.

His hand is on her 24/7. When going out, he brings the most miniature gun in his coat, just in case. His eyes are razor-sharp, watching the environment around him and then gradually relaxing with his adoration. Sitting down at the coffee shop, the night cascades as the two lovers talk to each other, noticing only their coffee cups gradually empty.

'We should get going. It's already 8 pm.' Duncan proposes, peeking down at his watch. 'Sure, I'll just go to the bathroom.' Y/N answers, standing up and strolling toward the washroom.

Duncan oversees her enter the facility, patiently lingering. Y/N enters the bathroom gazing at the slight corner of the facility, her gaze hooking onto the frail leg. Kneeling down, Y/N asks carefully, 'Are you okay?' The woman gargles out a response as footsteps transpire from the same place.

'What the?' before she could finalize, the door barged open as a robust man grabbed Y/N by the throat, slamming her against the tile wall. Y/N seizes her hands on the assaulters' steel grip. She twisted his skin as Duncan instructed her before

'Remember you twist, under, and-' 'And what?! Shit, what did he say next?!'

Her mind raced with no end and no solutions. The man's uninvited hands started to travel up her leg, inching slower to her middle. Squeezing her tights together, she shouted as much as possible, 'Dun-!'

The door opens with a deafening smash. Duncan saw the sight he did not want to see her in. Ever. His love attacked, and he did not see it coming. Her teary eyes pleaded and reached out to him, wanting to be saved.

'Y/N. Close your eyes.'

Obediently shutting her eyes, Y/N saw darkness and heard revenge being delivered. The twist, crack, and stab was heard as the assaulter weak pleads died down with him.

'Open, dove.'

Peeking up, she saw her protector, his hands stretched towards her, offering her help to stand up.

'The girl.' Y/N feebly voiced, looking behind him and noticing the woman slowly stand up and walk out.

'Do you want me to call an ambulance?' she added. The girl turned her head towards them calmly. 'No, no, thank you. F-Fo-for saving me.'

Duncan brings his alert to his dove, and Y/N witnesses his eyes. The warm grey tones disappear, and solely endless deep black has taken over his eyes. From that moment, she knew that he was back in his old ways. And for the first time, Y/N felt her soul shaking.

'Let's go home.' he ordered while they slowly strolled out. Duncan letting the personnel know what happened.

later on

In the cabin, Y/N sat on the couch, observing Duncan tending to her wounds, soothing hands touching her skin, taking each twitch and painful whimper into account.

'Do you want to talk about it?' the question cut the silence of the atmosphere bringing Y/N back into her state she almost forgot. His gaze turns to her, and she feels her soul shake yet again, feeling safe with her protector. Her eyes prickle with tears, and her lips quiver with missing and broken words lost on the tongue, hands reaching for his grasping softly, shaking with the possible future that might have happened if she didn't go the bathroom, remembered all of the things Duncan showed her or if she didn't have…him.

'I went into the bathroom---saw the girl asked if she was okay---and the man jumped out of the stall and grabbed me by the neck and touched my legs…Nearing closer to my…' Y/n hushed words feeling Duncan's grip tighten around the opposite shaky hands.

Duncan watched her clutch at each tear and escaping word she spoke. At the same time, his heart and brain pushed him internally, not checking up on her earlier, not killing the piece of shit on the spot that does those things for fun. Duncan never thought he would have someone to call his family and home as well not having this level of protectiveness drug his veins to the level where he wanted to burn the world for her if she said so.

But for now, he will worship her in the way he knows best. Duncan littered her face with kisses soft as the feathers touch, removing the slaty tears, hearing the whimpers turn into soft hums of satisfaction. 'I will remove all of his traces. He doesn't exist anymore. He can NOT hurt you anymore. I have and will protect you, and I will re-write my wrong for tonight. Will you let me worship like you deserve?' Duncan inquired, seeing how her eyes softened with affection, a smile peaking on her face.

'Yes, please.'

Duncan opens her legs slowly, kneeling in front of her and her core. He begins kissing her inner tights while his hands massage the legs gently enough to hear the hums he wants.

'If you want me to stop-' 'No, no, continue, please. I need you.'

Hearing those words, Duncan desired nothing more than to kiss until the oxygen ran out of his lungs, but he suppressed his needs putting hers in front. His breath tickled her core, twitching at the effect. Nearing close, not losing sight of his pearl, he starts to kiss her soul. The movement is pleasantly slow, slow enough for his dove to relax and intertwine her fingers into his ash-grey hair. Her legs opened more, placing them on his shoulder. His tongue brushed up and down against the folds, the juices cascading down and into his mouth, making his blood run wild. The 4 days shaven bread scratched gently on her tights as whimpers filled his ears.

'Right…there…' she said, grasping his hair tighter.

Duncan continues his actions as his nose presses on her clit, eliciting a suppressed moan. Duncan stops to speak five words.

'Don't suppress your voice, dove.' and starts again.

Y/N moans loudly, not letting the moans and pleasure be suppressed anymore. The wooden walls held the moans and gradually layered more and more in the bedroom. Duncan's nose pressed a bit more, and his tongue played with her folds mixing his saliva and her juices together. The love-filled actions continued while Y/N grasped harder on his hair, tighter and more painful, until there was no grip, and her climax crashed on his lips. Duncan stopped pulling away, massaging with his hands her inner tights, prolonging her stimulation as it died down to the tiniest fraction.

'How are you feeling, darling?' Duncan inquired, hoping he helped in some way.

With Y/n's shallow breath, she happily replied, 'Most definitely better. Thank you, Donut.'

Kissing her tights, he promises 'Always.'

If you liked it consider leaving a tip!

[strawberryshortcake1495]

The Story of Jasmine

(I can’t afford the fast-pass chapters so I’m not sure if her backstory has already been revealed, but as I said, this is all just my own interpretation and shouldn’t be taken as canon.)

Jasmine used to be such a happy girl. She was the eldest child in her family, having two younger siblings named Amara and Colton (aged 7 and 4). She was only 12 years old when she and her family went on a vacation to Savannah. They visited the Sorrel Weed House and Jasmine explored each crook and cranny of the house, drawn in by its history of being haunted. That’s when she saw a phantom from the corner of her eye but chose to ignore it. By the time her family left, it was nighttime, and they were making their way home when a large phantom blocked their way. In a frenzy, they quickly drove off into the forest and stayed at a cabin for the night. The next day, the phantom was gone but that wouldn’t be Jasmine’s last encounter with those ugly creatures. She and her siblings started seeing phantoms everywhere but they’d always disappear before they could really catch them. Amara told their parents and then they started seeing the phantoms too. This went on for like 3 weeks. Jasmine’s mother thought they were going crazy and started spiraling into madness. Jasmine’s father thought that the hotel they were staying at was haunted as well and that the only way to escape the phantoms was to just go home. So one fateful night, they packed their bags and started driving all the way back home. Jasmine kept checking her phone as they kept driving. 7PM. 8PM. 9PM. 10PM. 11PM. As the clock struck midnight, the skies turned red and there was a loud roar in the distance. Then the giant phantom centipede manifested and started chasing the family. Jasmine’s father was driving at speeds that shouldn’t be possible and Jasmine herself was hugging her siblings and trying to comfort them while crying her eyes out. Suddenly, they began to swerve off the road. The last thing Jasmine saw was a tree getting closer and closer and closer.

When she gained consciousness, the first thing she felt was something wet and mushy. Someone wet and mushy. As Jasmine’s vision cleared and she looked around, she realized something horrific. Her entire family was dead. She was laying in a bed of corpses. Distraught, Jasmine scrambled out of the broken car and began crawling into the forest. Her leg was twisted in a not-so-fun way. The only thing she could really see was the sky, which had returned to a somber dark blue with stars that illuminated the forest. Jasmine fell limp and closed her eyes, ready to die.

She awoke in a strange place with white walls. A man was standing near her bed. It was Maverick. Jasmine tried to leave but Maverick kept her put, and explained that she was sick. Infected with the virus. Maverick told her if she stayed, she could be able to help other infected people like her so they wouldn’t end up like her family. Jasmine stayed in that place for 6 miserable years until she turned 18 and started working professionally under the Paper Cranes.

Jasmine is presumed to be Patient Zero. A child who was gaslighted into believing she was crazy.

[unchartedstarsocs]

U.F.O. anyone?

Spotlight on Alpine Lake Grass

[unchartedstarsocs]

Out of context OC dialogue:

Chris:(exasperated)Timothy, he's a turtle. Timothy: So?

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 7 - The Cabin

Summary

Present: You go on a patrol with Joel

Past: A converstation with Tommy after the events of the Cult

CW // Fluff, Tommy being an idiot, mentions of past sexual encounters, PTSD, tooth rotting fluff, Joel just doesn't know how to let himself feel.

WC // 7,719

Now

Late Spring 2024

Tommy arrives at your house early the next morning, throwing small rocks at the wall he knows your bed is pressed against. He's done this on countless occasions, but after the first time he broke the window and accidentally landed a rock in your bed, he started aiming next to the window instead. As he continues to throw rocks, the loud smacking sound fills the air. You groan in annoyance and roll over in your bed, not wanting to wake up and deal with Tommy right now. 

"Rise and shine Sunshine!" Tommy shouts from your front garden, throwing another rock at the wall. You groan and slide out of your warm blankets, sitting up in your bed, your hair messy as you were woken up mid-sleep by the annoying and loud noise of his continued rock throwing. You crawl on your bed and slide open the window, feeling the cool air rush into the room. You lean your arms on the windowsill and look down, seeing Tommy ready to throw another rock but lowering his arm when he sees that you're awake and smiling up at you.

If the tall tree next to your front porch was planted next to your window, you'd bet your coffee that Tommy would climb it and bang on your window if he could. You wonder if he would've taken things that far if the tree was more accessible to him. You sit in your bed and continue to watch him from the window, thinking about his antics with annoyance, but a hint of fondness creeping in. Sure, he's a headache to deal with at times and he can be a bit annoying, but there's also a certain level of appreciation that you have for his playful spirit.

"You look beautiful as ever, sleepyhead," he teases as he drops the rock back into your garden and you roll your eyes, shutting the window on him. You sit in your bed in silence for a moment, not feeling very beautiful with your messy hair and the small signs of sleep still etched on your face. You lay back down and close your eyes, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep before you have to face the day. After a few minutes, Tommy throws another rock on your wall again. "You better not have gotten back into bed" He yells. 

You groan and sit back up.

"You better not have gotten back into bed," you mumble, mimicking Tommy's voice as you swing your legs off your bed and stand up. You pick up the discarded black pyjama shorts from the floor and tug them on before descending the stairs to the ground floor. You're a bit hazy and still groggy, not having fully woken up yet. 

Unlocking the door, you open it to see Tommy sitting in the rocking chair next to your door. He looks up at you with a grin and closes his eyes, showing that he has no remorse for waking you up early in the morning. You sigh and cross your arms, leaning against the door frame and looking down at him. "You have a key, you know. You don't have to throw rocks at my house," you say, your tone tired and irritated. 

Tommy's smile drops and he opens his eyes as he stands from the chair, heading past you and into your house. "Last time I just walked in, I saw you and Emily having sex," he grumbles, sounding a bit embarrassed and like he's trying to brush off what he saw. You let out a chuckle, knowing how he must've felt stumbling in on that particular moment.

He had walked in on a rare night when Annabel was out with friends and you had the house to yourself with Emily. The two of you had normally kept your sexual activities to your bedroom but one thing had led to another and you had ended up on your knees in front of her on the couch, worshipping her with your mouth between her thighs. Tommy had chosen that moment to come over and give Annabel a new book he found for her. He dropped the book and ran out faster than you've ever seen him move, the image of what he saw scarring his mind. You and Emily had burst out laughing at the sight of Tommy's face and his hilarious reaction. 

He couldn’t look you in the eyes for a week after that. 

A week after that is when he broke your window with a rock.

You shake your head and close the door behind him as he moves into your kitchen. “Well Em isn’t in the picture anymore so you won't walk in on that kind of thing anymore.” You reassure him as he sets the kettle on the stove. 

"Well, yeah, but I'd rather not have to scrub my eyes clean again," he jokes as he opens your fridge and smiles when he takes out the bowl of baked honey apples you made last night after Joel left. "You want any?" he asks, taking a bowl for himself and a mug for you from your cupboard. You're a bit surprised that he's already in the fridge looking for snacks, but you shrug it off and let him do his thing. 

"Just coffee." You reply, sitting down in a chair and sighing as you do so. Tommy nods and scoops himself a rather large serving of baked honey apples and smiles like a child in a candy store, his whole demeanour changing and his expression becoming childlike and innocent.

You watch him as he digs into the apples like a child, taking them in huge mouthfuls and making small noises of pleasure as he enjoys the baked honey apples. You feel a sense of dissonance between the man leaning against your kitchen counter enjoying the food you’ve made and the man who has killed and tortured countless people before. It's almost like this side of Tommy is hidden away and only comes out when he's around those he cares for, making you feel even more special for having the privilege of seeing him like this, enjoying the simple pleasures in life. 

You guess he sees the same in you. 

“I love you.” He grumbles over another big mouthful and you scrunch your nose as you see bits of apple falling from his mouth.

“You love my food.” You scoff playfully as he smiles over another mouthful. 

"Mmm, that too," he hums, setting down the half eaten bowl of honey apples and beginning to make coffee for the two of you. He moves around your kitchen like it's his own, acting as if it's a familiar space. You recall how at one point, it was his home. When you first arrived in Jackson, Tommy refused to settle down in any house besides your own. It took three months for him to eventually come around and feel safe in the town, when you were safe in his eyes, along with Annabel.

It took another six months before he finally stopped using the spare room as his own and officially moved in with Maria, whom he quickly fell in love with and made him feel even more at home in the small town of Jackson.   

Tommy sets your favourite bee painted mug in front of you before bringing his own mug and bowl over to sit beside you where Joel had sat the previous night. As you take a sip of hot coffee, you smile into it as you're filled with the comfort of knowing that he's made it just the way you like it, showing a level of care and thoughtfulness towards you.  As the morning light pours through the windows, it paints your surroundings in a warm glow as the warmth of the coffee heats up your body from the inside out.    

"So, I'm guessing you didn't come over just for food and company," you begin, questioning him on his early visit. You expect to hear that something is wrong but instead he only smiles at you and sets down his coffee mug. 

"You want to go back on patrol-"

"Yes," you interrupt him, your tone firm and sure. He freezes in his tracks and lets out a huff of laughter at your quick response, not expecting to be cut off like that. You're already halfway out of your seat and grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. Tommy stares at you for a moment, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Not right now Sunshine, calm down," he puffs out, sounding a bit exasperated. He holds out a hand to stop you, his tone changing to one of concern instead of his previous friendliness. "Maria and I think you're ready to get back out there," he continues, sounding a bit more stern, "but we have some conditions." You set your jacket back down reluctantly and sit back down beside him, waiting to hear what these conditions are before you're allowed to go back out on patrol.

"And what condition would that be?" you cautiously ask, already knowing that you'll agree to whatever terms he sets, but wanting to have it spelled out for you anyway to make sure you don't go blindly into agreeing to them. 

Tommy smirks at you and crosses his arms, looking quite pleased with himself and whatever plan he's come up with. "Well, if we are going to let you back out there, I want you to take a patrol partner with you.”

You frown at his request, not liking the idea of having to take a partner with you for your patrols. Your usual route is quiet enough and doesn't warrant the need for multiple people to go, as you're more than capable of doing the patrol alone. You would occasionally take Tommy along with you if you were doing a supply run or a more difficult route, but you were comfortable going alone for the most part.  

"Joel knows the route well enough by now, since he's been covering the cabin for you," Tommy continues, and you let out a puff of air at the thought, feeling a bit relieved that your first choice for a patrol partner was actually the correct one. You weren't annoyed or frustrated by Tommy's condition either, as Joel would be a good partner, and you're glad that Tommy didn't try to set you up with someone younger or inexperienced.

"Yeah, okay. I think I can manage that," you respond, nodding in agreement. You take a sip of your coffee and swirl the warm liquid in your mouth before continuing. "You said conditions, as in plural. What else?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in expectation of what he has to say next.

Tommy finishes the last of his apples and pushes the bowl away, placing a hand onto his stomach and letting out a contented sigh. "You start doing supply runs more often and… Maria and I are having a barbeque next week to properly welcome Joel and Ellie," he says, his tone sounding like an invitation, but more of a command rather than a request, "We want you to be there." You frown at him, a little taken aback by his order but knowing that you'll have no choice but to follow what he says.

"Tommy-" you begin, not wanting to argue with him or go against his command. He looks over at you with pleading eyes, and you groan and lean against the table with your elbows. Resting your head in your hands, you sigh and consider your options. 

More supply runs, easy. But you don't like social gatherings as they're too crowded and you find yourself feeling overwhelmed by being around so many people. Even though you've been living in Jackson for almost five years now, you still find yourself uncomfortable being around that many people.

"It's just going to be a few people, just family. No crowds." He informs you as he starts to see you internally panic.

You reluctantly give in and agree to go to the barbecue. “Fine.” You mumble under your breath. 

Tommy's hand reaches out and rubs your back before standing from the table. "Next week, Saturday," he informs you, stepping towards the archway and stopping before turning back to you, pointing at the fridge. "You can even bring some of those baked honey apple slices, I'd really like that," he adds, and you lift your head from your hands with a small laugh. 

"Are you only inviting me for my food?" you tease, your tone playful and your expression mischievous as you look up at Tommy, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Of course I am.” He says as he breaks out in a big grin. You roll your eyes as he waves goodbye. You think he’s left but he reappears in the archway again. “Make sure to take your meds before the party, yeah? They’ll help.” He gives you another reassuring smile as you tell him you will and he actually leaves this time, leaving you once again alone in your house. 

It’s too quiet. 

You stand from the table and place a record on the turntable beside the stairs, the soft voice of Elvis filling the room. You close your eyes and allow your body to relax as it absorbs the melody and fills your racing mind. 

You spend the next few hours puttering around your house, cleaning and preparing for your first patrol in weeks. You go through your collection of guns and knives in the lockers in the garage, cleaning each one thoroughly and making sure all the guns are loaded with bullets and all the knives are sharp. You take your time and make sure to treat each weapon with care and ensure that it's in working order, making sure that you're well stocked and prepared for whatever might come your way while you're on patrol.

“Ellie.” Joel warns as the teenager attempts to leave the house quietly without him knowing. “What have we talked about, kiddo?” He tries to remind her as he stands at his kitchen sink, drying off dishes from breakfast that the two of them had shared with Tommy.

Tommy had wandered over mid-morning as Joel was preparing breakfast. His younger brother had initially debated internally as to whether or not he wanted to stay for breakfast. The debate didn't last long, however, as he set himself a seat at the table and began helping Joel with making the food, despite Joel's resistance at first.

Tommy had come over to invite both himself and Ellie to a barbecue he was hosting in honour of them joining the community. Joel had groaned at the news but agreed in the end. He hated gatherings, even more so after the outbreak. There were too many people, and too many things could go wrong. It was too loud and deafened out any lingering threats. He really didn’t want to go.  

He then moved on to mention that you were going to start accompanying him on the patrols. Tommy had explained that after your injury, he felt better knowing that you weren't alone at the cabin anymore and would have backup whenever you did a patrol, especially since he had a gut feeling that the cult you were after could also be hunting the both of you. 

Now that Joel comes to think of it, Tommy had smelt like honey when he was over. Had he come from your place?

Ellie responds by turning away and muttering something under her breath, her expression filled with annoyance.

Joel sighs and sets down the plate he was drying, looking towards Ellie. "Come on Ellie, I'm just asking where you're going," he explains, his tone a bit softer now as he attempts to reassure her that he's not opposed to the idea of her going out. "I won't say no, I just want to make sure you're okay," he continues, his concern evident in his tone as he tries to ease Ellie's nerves about going outside on her own.

She shrugs, moving back and forth on her toes and heels, her grip tightening on the straps of her backpack. "Just hanging out with some friends," she replies, not making eye contact with Joel and doing her best to downplay what she's really up to.

Joel raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his shoulder, the dishcloth laying across his shoulders. "Right. And where are these friends hanging out?" he asks, knowing very well that there's more to the story than Ellie is letting on. A small smirk appears on Ellie's face, and she takes some time to respond, wanting to prolong the conversation and Joel's annoyance.

"Just by the river," she replies under her breath, her tone a bit more sheepish now, as she looks down at her dirty shoes. Joel had tried to clean them for her after they arrived in Jackson, but she refused to let him touch them. She said the dirt brought them charm, he really doesn't understand teenagers.

"Alright, so the river," Joel replies to Ellie, feigning a stern tone, but she can tell that he's just joking. She responds with a big smile and excitement, which prompts Joel to ask her, "What time should I expect you back before I send out a search party?" Ellie lets out a light scoff, the idea that she'd get lost out in the woods or river completely ridiculous to her.

“You’re fine with me leaving Jackson?” She beams and stops rocking on her feet. 

"No, but you're going to anyway, aren't you?" Joel argues, but she nods in acknowledgment, confirming that she'll leave regardless of his opinion on the matter. "I'd just rather know when and where you're venturing out," he continues, showing that he at least won't stand in her way or do anything to prevent her from going. He might not agree with what she's planning to do, but he'll at the very least give her the freedom to do what she wants.

"Just be back before I get back from patrol, yeah? I'd rather not have to come looking for ya at night," Joel reasons with Ellie, hoping to get her to stick to that curfew. She nods in understanding and rushes out of the house, not wanting to spend any more time arguing with him. She'll probably get caught up in hanging out with her friends or doing whatever it is she has planned, but she'll at the very least try to get back before Joel finishes his patrol. He hopes . She'll probably push her curfew to the last second though, wanting to spend the maximum time possible out having fun. 

The door slams behind Ellie, causing Joel to flinch and his hand to instinctively reach for the absent gun in his pants. He closes his eyes and takes a slow, shaky breath, trying to calm himself.  

He’s safe. 

He’s safe . 

Joel spends the morning upstairs, emptying out a room he’s planning on using as a woodworking room. He desperately wants to make a guitar, or at least things to litter his house with. Maybe even make something for Ellie and Tommy. And maybe you. You had a singular pirate ship on top of one of your bookshelves, another one would look really nice on the other side to balance it out.  

A knock suddenly interrupts Joel's day-dreaming, sending him racing up from his seat, his hand already instinctively reaching for the absent gun in his pants. He curses and runs a hand through his hair in a sign of frustration, bending down to pick up the spoon that had clattered to the floor.

When he opens the door to find you there, your back facing him, his heart rate climbs for a different reason. You turn at the sound of the door opening and flash him a soft smile. Joel tries not to stare, but he can't help himself. The simple act of you smiling sends shivers down his spine. 

You're dressed in short black cargo shorts with two knives attached to each side of the waist band. A skin-tight black long-sleeved shirt is tucked into your shorts, with a deep V-neck that is laced together with thin rope a zig-zag way. A gun is holstered to your thigh, and Joel notices a small amount of pudge around the holster's straps, and hates to admit that it makes his mouth go bone dry. You're also wearing some brown lace-up boots, a knife placed in each shoe. 

Your hair is also in a low ponytail, with small strands of hair framing your face and that makes his old knees feel weak. 

You’re dressed for patrol. Right . Patrol. Shit he forgot about patrol.

"You...ah...You look nice," Joel compliments you awkwardly, and mentally berates himself for sounding so awkward. He's not used to giving out compliments easily and feels almost a little embarrassed at complimenting you just now. However, it was the truth, and you really do look nice. In fact, you look stunning, and Joel doesn't know how he's going to be able to handle the tension and emotions he's feeling towards you.

A high pitched Ha escapes your throat and you slap your hand over your mouth the second you make the sound. Heat flushes to your cheeks and clear your throat and lower your hand. “Ah, thanks Joel.” You just as awkwardly reply back as your own eyes take in his appearance.  

"You… Don’t look ready?" you ask Joel, your face twisting into confusion and the blush still evident on your face, creeping down your neck. It takes a moment for him to respond, as a warm feeling washes over him when he looks at you. He looks down and realises he’s still in his brown tee and sweatpants from when he woke up. He scratches the back of his head and looks back into his house for a moment, before looking back at you.

“Ah – no, but I can be in a moment." Joel invites you in, holding the door open for you to enter. You step into the house, and Joel follows, closing the door behind him. You look around the house, taking in his living space. It's not too spectacular, but it has a very homey feel to it.

"Of course Tommy gives you a big place," you comment, clearly impressed by Joel's living space. Walking into the living room, you take in the space and appreciate every detail, amazed at how big his place is. Joel notices this, and can't help but feel a bit chuffed at your reaction to his home.  

"I haven't really had the time to make it my own, and Ellie's, but it's real nice," Joel agrees, trying to downplay the lack of organisation in his home while also pointing out how nice the space is. You glance around at his home once again before settling onto his couch, waving him off when he attempts to excuse his lack of personal touch within the house. 

"Don't worry about that," you assure him, but he still feels a little self-conscious about the unkempt nature of his home. “Took me a while to collect things. Just go get ready, I’ll wait here.” You sink deeper into his couch as he smiles at your comfort level in his home, and he can't help but admire your ease at making yourself at home. He shakes his head and turns to get ready, trying to ignore the fact that he can't help but imagine what life would be like if you were permanently part of his life.

As he climbs up the stairs to his room, he grits his teeth and sighs, shaking his head and telling himself that he shouldn't be thinking like this. He really shouldn't be picturing you in his life like that, but for some reason, the thoughts continue to intrude on his mind. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have another person around since Ellie wants to move into the garage, but that's not what he should be thinking about right now. 

No, he doesn’t want that, does he? 

Eventually, you and Joel make a trek through overgrown woods and grassy plains, arriving at the cabin after around an hour from the gates of Jackson. It's tranquil and quiet, the trees towering above you and birds chirping and singing around you both. Joel can't help but steal glances at you as you make it your goal to touch every tree you pass along the way, it is a rather adorable sight to behold. He's been to this cabin many times before alone, but now that you're with him, it just has a whole other aura to it. Feeling much more...calming.

You attempted to make small talk as you crossed a small stream, but you had caught him off guard and he grunted in response, which caused you to stop asking him any further questions. He was still not used to kindness and people in general, but he wishes he was. After that, you two walked in silence alongside each other while the birds chirped around you both in the distance, the quiet ambience of nature surrounding the area and making for a peaceful atmosphere. He had tried multiple times after that to bring up a conversation but the words caught in his throat. 

He watches you as your pace quickens as you spot the cabin in the distance. It looks the same as when he was here last, which is a good sign that no one had ventured past this area. The small flowers that litter the ground surrounding the cabin are all still standing tall and there are no footprints on the path that leads to the firepit to the right of the cabin. Joel takes note of this and feels more at ease about your safety and the safety of the cabin as a whole.

The surrounding trees provide shade and cast shadows from the old and non-functioning street lamps along the path. The sun that manages to break through the trees, sheds its light and warmth down on you as you ascend up the porch of the small wooden cabin. Joel is a few steps behind you, admiring you in your element and noticing how this is essentially your cabin. He too has noticed while in the past that no one else has signed the log book besides you and now him. The whole place has a feeling of emptiness around it, though he'd expect as much given how secluded this place is.

You turn around at the top of the stairs, smiling widely back at him with a very evident excitement to be back on patrol. “Come on, old man. Am I going to have to slow down for you the whole patrol?” You joke and he stops and places his hands on his hips and shakes his head and softly laughs. 

"Who are you calling old?" he retorts, trying to show a bit of feigned offence, before finally giving in and walking down the path towards you. You swing open the cabin door and disappear inside, and he lets out a sigh as a small smile appears on his face. 

This is going to be a long patrol. 

You set your backpack down on the floor behind the wooden frame of the couch as you take in the interior of the cabin. It’s almost the same as the last time you saw it, except more… tidy. The small dining table leaned against the back of the couch has been cleaned up, your pencils placed neatly into a cup. The usually messy couch covered in blankets and pillows, has been left bare. Said pillows and blankets are tucked neatly into a box besides the brick fireplace across from the couch. The chessboard that you were in the middle of a solo game is packed away neatly beside the armchair, beside the other side of the fireplace.

The little kitchen to your right is still the same, besides new fresh fruit and vegetables packed in bags between the fridge and the bed. The bed against the wall is also made, something you didn’t do. At the end of the bed are boxes and board games neatly organised into tubs. The set of shelves above the tubs has also been tidied.  

Joel has been busy. Probably just bored, actually. 

You smile to yourself as you step over to the log book on the shelf that's near the bed. You lean over the organised mess of board games and boxes piled up in plastic tubs at the end of the bed and take out the log book from the shelf, flipping through the pages of Joel’s previous entries.

It’s to be expected, the entries are short and to the point. 

All clear. 

Nothing to report.

Restocked food. 

Chopped firewood. 

Nothing to report.

Cleaned the cabin. 

Still cleaning the cabin…

4 Clickers on the other side of the river, taken care of. 

Raiders came, taken care of.

Stormed, stayed the night. Still cleaning the cabin…

Cabin needs coffee.  

You can't help but smirk as you read through Joel's last entry. Joel walks in and sets his bag down beside yours as you keep reading through his entries. “You cleaned up.” You state without looking up from the book. 

Joel’s footsteps come to a halt and you see him from the corner of your eye look around the studio cabin. “Oh, yeah. Hope that’s okay.”  

"There's coffee in the monopoly box by the way," you smirk up at him and he looks at you with a blank expression that seems to be a permanent fixture of his face. 

Joel blinks a few times before responding, looking down at the monopoly box behind you and raising an eyebrow in genuine curiosity as he asks, "Why is it in the monopoly box?" He looks back up at you, his blank expression unbroken but now with a hint of interest in his eyes.

"To keep people out of my stash, obviously," you state with no shame in your tone, which causes a small smile to appear on his face. "Alright, so how do you want to handle patrol?" You ask him, deciding to get straight to the point, walking over to the bags of fruit on the floor to grab an apple. You take a bite out of the apple and toss it in your hands, enjoying the taste of the delicious fruit. “Do you want to take one side while I check the other?” 

As you look up from the fruit and catch him staring at your face, you pause mid-bite and frown. You think that there must be something on your face that he's noticed, so you wipe your mouth with the back of your sleeve just to be sure after you take your bite. Juice from the apple covers your sleeve that must have dripped down your chin and you wipe your face again to make sure you’re clean. 

"Ah- I mean, um-" he begins, only to clear his throat before he continues and you freeze mid way through scrubbing your face. You almost want to laugh at the awkwardness that's filling the air, but you manage to hold it back.. "Not that I don't think you can do it by yourself, just that you haven't done patrol in a while," he quickly follows up, almost as if he's trying to assure you that he believes in your abilities. "So... want to do this patrol together?"

"Sure, we can," you reassure him with a soft smile, and you can see his face soften in response. "You can show me all the ways you messed up my cabin that way," you tease him, which causes him to narrow his eyes at you in mock indignation, though his slight smirk gives away that he's not actually mad in the slightest. You take another bite of your apple and walk out of the cabin ahead of him, knowing that he's close behind.

You continue down the porch stairs and settle down onto the dirt path that leads you away from the front of the cabin. Joel jogs to catch up to you after closing the cabin door and walks beside you, his pace matching yours perfectly. "Your cabin has been in great hands while you were out of action, if you must know," he replies with a smirk that shows he's truly not at all offended by your playful teasing. 

It's a calming sense of normalcy as the back and forth conversation goes from playful banter to genuine questions aimed at you and your past, though Joel still dodges any that are aimed at him. You had attempted to strike up a conversation with him on the way to the cabin this afternoon, only to be instantly silenced by his grunts and other closed-off responses. But now, at least he's asking you questions and showing a genuine interest in who you are and what you've experienced. 

At least it’s something , you think as you softly kick a rock on the path.    

He doesn't interject or interrupt as you lead the way throughout most of your patrol, stepping back a safe distance from the traps and ensuring that he doesn't set off any traps accidentally. He stands behind you, surveying the area with his hands gripping onto the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. He reminds you of Tommy like this, but more assertive.  

It's a rather mundane process, especially since you're used to doing this by yourself, but there's always a feeling of reassurance, when Joel sticks around and follows in your footsteps. Even if you settle into a silence as you work, you can still feel his presence nearby, which is a soothing feeling in its own way. 

Tommy's trust in Joel is enough to make you lower your guard around him, allowing you to turn your back on Joel as you work. You're accustomed to a life of distrust with everyone around you but Joel has become an exception in the last few weeks, someone you trust to have your back and keep you safe like his younger brother has over the years. 

You finish your patrol of the area as the sun begins to set and Joel heads into the cabin to fill out the logbook as you wander over to the lake in front of the cabin with your bag.  

As you lay in the grass beside the river, the sky begins to glow pink and paint a beautiful sight for you to see. The soft grass is gentle and calming under your body while the soothing sound of the river flowing by calms you down as you stare at the sky above. When you look to your side, your heart breaks slightly when you remember for a moment that Annabel isn't beside you like she used to be whenever you would lay beside the river and stare at the clouds. But then Joel settles beside you and lays down with a sigh, resting his head down on the soft grass.

You find yourself gazing at him for a few moments, unable to tear your eyes away from his peaceful state. The sunlight illuminates his tan skin, and the soft pink tones highlight the contours of his features and his patchy stubble as he admires the sky. That's when he turns his face to look over at you, his smile forming into a smirk as he catches you staring. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as your gaze stays locked with his for a few moments longer. 

"How about you come over for dinner with Ellie and I after we get back?" He asks you, and your heart flutters slightly when you notice the soft pout forming on his face awaiting your response.

Dinner, yeah, you can totally do dinner. 

You utter a soft "Dinner... sounds nice" in response, just loud enough for him to hear you, as you two now lay next to each other on the grass. The closeness between you two causes your heart to beat a bit too fast, and you're unsure whether or not he can hear just how fast it's beating from your soft reply. 

You notice that Joel's mouth twitches and his lips slightly part at your response, and you find yourself wanting to smile. The two of you proceed to look up at the sky and watch the clouds move by, though you still find yourself glancing at him from time to time. When you notice him looking back at you, your breath catches in your throat as his mouth opens slightly, his attention once more firmly rooted on you.

"We should probably head back." You whisper, now speaking just a bit louder so he can hear you, though his attention is still firmly fixed on you and your voice. 

"Yeah, we should," he answers back in a whisper, looking straight into your eyes as he does so. His gaze is unmoving, as though he has no intention of breaking eye contact any time soon.

And yet, neither of you move.

Before

Early Winter 2019

As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself in a field of flowers, surrounded by the warmth of a fire that is attempting to provide some heat to a body that has been left shivering from the colder weather. Burning fear settles over your body as you don’t hear either Tommy or Annabel. They had been bickering when you must have drifted off.

Your attention is immediately fixed on your niece as she shifts in her sleep and tugs on your jacket. The cuts on her lips from the other day remain red and sore, causing your heart to ache as you down at her. 

You close your eyes to try and keep yourself from showing any signs of pain as Annabel leans on your burnt shoulder. The pain is excruciating, but you don’t want to wake her from her slumber. She had been unable to sleep at all since you escaped the cult, afraid and scarred from the experience.  

Once you had found a river and cleaned all the blood that covered your body, Tommy was finally able to witness the full extent of your injuries. His face had been torn between rage and compassion as he saw the burns on your arms and the cuts on the side of your head, and he hesitantly reached out to touch them, but his touch was soft and gentle even in the midst of his own tears. You returned the hug, letting the tears flow freely, knowing that it was best not to hold back in this moment of vulnerability.

You were in pain, both emotionally and physically. You were exhausted. 

Your head turns to the side, allowing you to view Tommy's profile in the light of the soft fire while he lays down beside you. He carefully takes your hand in his and gently squeezes it, his apologetic smile conveying more than his words could ever hope to. "How you holding up?" he whispers, his gaze set on you rather than looking away. At the moment, he seems more concerned for your well being than his own. 

"I'm okay," you tell him, and in a way, it feels as though you're trying to convince yourself more than you are trying to convince him. He squeezes your hand again and you finally look back up at him, finding the warmth in his eyes even in the dim and soft lighting.

"How are you really holding up?" he asks a second time, causing you to pause and truly consider your answer. You don't want to lie to him, but you don't want to cause him any unnecessary worry either. You think about your feelings for a moment and decide to be honest, no matter how he reacts.

"Physically, I think I'm doing well enough for the time being..." you start to say, your reply beginning as a confident response but trailing off into a quiet murmur.

He nods and seems to accept your initial response, but then a small shiver runs up your body as you feel his thumb rub over the burn on your hand. You grimace slightly in discomfort, but don't pull your hand away. Instead, you allow him to keep rubbing the burn, letting him provide some physical comfort to a part of your body that still pains you.

“But, I don’t know who I was back there. I’ve killed a lot of people before but not like that. I’ve never hurt someone like that before. But he was going to kill you Tommy, I… I snapped. He… He was going to hurt you. I tried to calm down but it was too much. It broke me.” You confess and Tommy nods, his thumb continuing to sooth you as he rubs your hand.

“I can’t lose you Tommy.” You whisper, your voice breaking as tears threaten to fall. 

Tommy closes his eyes and exhales in relief as he turns to his side and wraps his arm around your middle, nestling his head beside your shoulder. He's found a more comfortable position in this moment, and your body relaxes a bit as all three of you lie together in the field. Your heart aches as you feel both Annabel’s and Tommy’s heartbeat within your arms, and a feeling of warmth and comfort spreads all throughout your body just from their combined presence. 

They’re alive . Alive because of you .  

“We’re going to be okay.” He whispers into your shoulder. “The three of us, we’re going to get through this. We’re going to get to Jackson and we’re going to leave this all behind us, yeah? We’re going to be safe. Annabel is going to help with gardening from all those plant and flower books she’s been reading. I’m going to help build things from what Joel has taught me and you’re going to help protect everyone. You may have snapped back there but they deserved worse than that. 

You’re a good person, Sunshine. I mean it. And the people at Jackson will see that too, they’ll see what Annabel and I see. And if they don’t I’ll show them how wrong they are. They’re going to love you, just like we do.”

Tears begin to fall down your face without warning, caught off guard by how comforting it is to lie here with Annabel and Tommy. Tommy's arm tightens around you and Annabel nestles in closer to your side, both of them providing you with comfort and a sense of warmth that warms your whole body. As you look down at Tommy, you realise that he, too, has tears streaming down his face, and your heart aches for him in that moment.

You sniffle, the tears falling more quickly as you find yourself unable to keep them contained now that Tommy has shed his own. "Do you really mean that?" you ask, your voice trembling as you hold back the sobs that threaten to overwhelm you. 

"Of course I do," he confesses between his sniffles, and your heart almost breaks when he reveals a piece of his heart while fighting back against his own tears. "You and Annabel are everything to me," he finishes in a whisper, causing a fresh wave of tears to sting your eyes as your own tears run freely down your cheeks.

"Fuck Tommy, If I could start over..." your voice cracks slightly as you try to fight back against the sobs, "I would suffer through everything all over again just to be here with you and Anna." You close your eyes and lean your forehead against Tommy's, who sighs softly into your touch. “If either of you died back there, I don’t know what I would have done.”

If you had your hands free, you would tangle your hands in his hair, soothing him as he does for you. But your right arm is trapped under Annabel while your left arm is trapped under Tommy as they lay on either side of you.  

“I know Sunshine, I know.” he hushes you with a gentle tone, calming the storm of emotions that rage inside you. As you open your eyes,  your expression softens as you look at him as a smile forms on his face before he continues. “Although if I were to do it all over again, I wouldn’t open that unlabeled can that turned out to be canned fish.” He jokes and you playfully push him off you.

Annabel shifts beside you and groans in her sleep at your movement. Tommy laughs softly as he sits up and wipes the tears from his face before leaning back on his arms, looking back down at you. 

“Yes you would. If you don’t, you’d still have that awful sweater,” Your reply earns a fake look of shock and feigned offence. 

“I loved that sweater.” He replies back honestly and you shake your head. 

You had told him not to open the unlabeled tin can that he found on the side of the road. He carried it with him for at least a mile before he opened it and instantly regretted it. The foul smell of rotten fish bursted into the air and assaulted your noses. The three of you had ended up throwing up from the stench and had to throw your clothes away as the smell clung to them. Tommy at the time had been wearing his Everything is Bigger in Texas sweater he found a few days back. He wasn’t going to take it with him, but once you voiced your dislike for the sweater, he didn’t take it off until the smell of rotten fish made him.

You playfully argue about the sweater until the time between responses grows longer and longer as you fight off sleep, too afraid about drifting off again and waking up alone. As your eyes begin to drift, his hand settles in your hair and gently detangles strands from each other.

“It’s okay, go to sleep. We’re not going anywhere.” He whispers and with that, you finally let yourself sleep.  

The three of you arrive in Jackson three days later, and you hope that Tommy was right. You hope this is a place the three of you can finally be safe.     

Chapter 8

Notes

a little break from the violence of TLOU, just some fluff.

Some more of Ellie and Joel, just Joel being a dad.

Also some of Joel's PTSD. Loud noses are scary.

Joel admiring you. I tried to keep it as less descriptive as I could, but it's hard. I just mentioned clothing, i tried.

I had so much fun writing this chapter omg. I like writing awkward Joel, it's fun.

Divider by the beautiful saradika

Cabin can be found below

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Hi! If it’s not too much to ask, may I send in another request for Davy Jones in which the reader gets an anxiety attack and turns away from him, refusing for him to see her breakdown? He eventually finds her and he doesn’t leave her side, even after she tells him of what’s going on and he tries his best to reassure her or something?

If not, that’s okay! :)

Hello dear💖, thanks for the request.

Davy Jones x anxious reader🐙🌊

Comfort in an octopus's arms🐙

Summary: Y/n develops a nervous breakdown from a crewmate when Davy confides her in comfort.

warnings: none

-----

Y/n, a girl who’s trapped beneath the curse of the Flying Dutchman, sat below the sleeping quarters of the barnacle infested room. She trailed her fingers against the water droplets falling upside the wooden planked walls; the droplets ran up her fingers hitting the ceiling of the roof. The crew sleeping in the rotten infested bunks grunted and huffed as they slept. The crew that surrounded y/n were no longer men but beasts that were deformed; barnacles grew from their limbs, face or body. Vicious and cruel those men were, never do they spare the dead nor shed any mercy. Y/n placed her arm next to one of Davys men sleeping next to her; just as expected—Clear and smooth, no barnacles, no coral, no deformed fish skin or scales. Y/n was the biggest mystery of all, Davy had cursed each and every member of his crew but her. As a child y/n had heard the tales of Davy Jones from her own father, the most common being: years ago, a man fell in love with the sea only to be betrayed, now he was a deformed monster that shared no mercy upon those that encounter him.

Truly a sad tale but perhaps with redemption, there would be a possible slight chance he could regain the humanity he lost all those years ago.

Y/n turned to her side counting backwards from 10 until they shall resurface.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2—

1!”

A sudden push of the room shook the sleeping quarters, y/n held onto the side of her bunk bed only to be thrown off. The Flying Dutchman re-surfaced again upon the horizon, the broken, rotten ship sailing back toward it’s proper glory.

Y/n pushed herself from the ground of the cabin, she was covered in sea water and muck. The water droplets coming up from the ceiling soon started to drop down; droplets of water hit y/n’s cheek. The crew awoke with a grunt and sneer, toward the side of the sleeping cabin, a man spat out water looking around. His appearance was somewhat human except, his skin wasn’t fleshy and warm, barnacles were formed on the side of his cheek. He was…lifeless, a lifeless corpse that didn’t need to breath nor eat. His scraggly, wet hair laid all over his shoulders. The clothes he wore were torn and moldy; the lifeless sailor slammed his hand on the wall beside him. A hermit crab was caught within his grasp, raising his hand, he placed the hermit in his mouth with a loud ‘Crunch’.

Y/n cringed at the sight, just the thought of eating a raw, small hermit crab would’ve been awful to taste. “Not much of an early bird, eh? Bootstrap” Y/n smiled.

Y/n and Bootstrap had been somewhat close; “colleagues of the sea” if you had to define their relationship. Y/n and Bootstrap would usually have a game of liars dice now and then, minus the consequences that came with it. Bootstrap had taught y/n all the rules when riding inside the Dutchman, the one thing that caught her mind was the backstory of the captain. Bootstrap wouldn’t give as much information of the captain fearing he may be punished.

“Nah, but better then waking up from too much rum” Bootstrap hoisted himself from the bunk.

Y/n smiled in response; she followed the members of the crew toward the outside onto the main deck. She began to heave a bucket with soggy and mucky water toward the rum pot deckhands on the ship. The upper hand crew held the whips in their hands, their job was to keep the lower souls at bay. Y/n poured the mucky water all over the deck, brushes and rags all scrubbed, cleaning any spot of dirt along the wooden planks. The winds in the skies were holding quite strongly within luck, in y/n’s eyes, she hoped no poor lost soul would come into contact with the Flying Dutchman. On top of the quarter deck, the captain and his first mate looked over the horizon. Y/n turned behind her, she kept her eyes on the captain, thoughts began to plague her mind as she was deep in thought.

“I wonder, what Davy do to turn out this way?”.

“Perhaps was it his cruelty?”.

As y/n dozed off deep in thought, she had backed into a barnacle man with a whip. He was much taller, barnacles and corals covered his eyes. “And wha’ might be your excuse” he growled; sharp, crooked teeth bared his whole mouth. Y/n slowly backed up, her back was placed against a wall “I, I wasn’t supposed to be one of the deckhands sir, I’m just supposed to deliver the water to them.”

The barnacle head bared his teeth, snarling and gnarling at the nervous y/n. Y/n placed her hand over her pistol in-case things got too serious, she did know how to fight but it wasn’t like against the navy or another crew. This was with something inhuman, something monstrous that could y/n in half. Y/n’s fingers were laced over the trigger, her eyes widened to watch what move the barnacle head made next. In response the barnacle head grinned, he dropped the whip and instead grabbed his sword. In one fluid movement he pushed it against y/n’s throat; his face was directly grinning at her. Y/n turned her head away due to the man’s horrible stench, if you had to picture rotten fish sitting out for weeks that’s what it smelt like.

The pistol she held wasn’t close enough within her grasp, the sword pressed against her throat was stopping her from breathing. The air became thin as the barnacle head pushed further and further; her vision was becoming blurry. Y/n had to think fast however it seemed fate had already answered her call. A pistol shot directly into the barnacle heads shoulder; a growl in pain had emerged from the monster. Y/n looked up toward her savoir and long behold it was Davy Jones. Wait—it couldn’t have been him, how could someone as cruel and heartless as Davy someone for the likes as y/n. The captain walked down the steps toward y/n struggling to breath, she turned away from her captain trying to regain her composure. Davy snarled at the crew mate as the Barnacle head stood back. Y/n kept her eyes shut and prayed Davy would just leave her be “Mind tellin’ mah, wha’ in tha’ savan seas as’ goin’ on”.

Y/n pushed herself; she was too worked up trying to calm her hyperventilating down. Davy turned toward y/n however he couldn’t approach her as turned and ran back toward her sleeping quarters.

Davy shouted out “Y/N!” as he followed the girl.

Davy grabbed y/n with his claw hand, his eyes looked deeply into y/n’s, scaring her.

 “Captain I’m so—” she began too deeply breath in and out “Sorry”.

Davy’s tentacles curled and twisted as y/n apologized, he didn’t scream nor laugh at her response. “It was my fault for slacking off, I shouldn’t have been distracted” Y/n tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her fingers rubbed her eyes as they started to become red.

“How embarrassing, how could I cry in front of the most ruthless captain of all time, I’m a failure, I’m a failure, I’m a—” y/n felt soft tentacles curl against her face; reaching to brush her hair away and wiping the tears falling from her eyes. A hand with a long tentacle reaching from his fingers, touched the back of y/n’s coat; the other crab hand held y/n’s head. Y/n was astonished and bewildered, was Davy Jones hugging her, her? a girl that barely spoke to the captain unless given a direct order.

“Ah ain’t as cruel, ah’ thay say” Davy muttered “Yar bah tha onlah’ soul I would sahve’ in thas’ cruel life”.

Y/n realised that Davy perhaps after all this time, ever since she arrived, he had composed or more so regained some humanity toward her.

“Ya ain’t ah failure” he muttered once more.

Y/n in response wrapped her arms around the captains coat, she felt the edging of his tentacles softly touch her cheek. “I, I thank you for this comfort, Davy” y/n muttered.

“If I ad’ mah heart back, I would give it to you” Davy whispered.

Y/n nuzzled her face into Davy’s shoulder, his coat was wet and slimy but she ignored it. It was nice to have someone care for her or at least know of her anxious feeling.

Two members stuck on the Flying Dutchman sharing their pain together, a pain they can endure in a time of solace in each other’s arms.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨

[unchartedstarsocs]

I have now reblogged it.

Draw your favorite OC/s

[just-norn-things]

7, 13 (hehe) and 16 for Rhianwen!

Thanks for the ask! Sorry this one took so long, it inspired a plot bunny and I had to run with it. Enjoy!

7. What was their first experience with other races?

Asura: Rhianwen's meeting of the Asura became a little ficlet, so it's posted here.

Charr: The first Charr she met was a Priory scholar that Trahearne introduced her to during an excursion to Orr. Still trying to find her way in the world, Rhianwen found herself sharing a meat skewer with this strange overgrown cat one evening around the campfire. Meat was new to her, and the burning sensation on her tongue newer still. It lit a fire in her chest, and from the way the heat from this creature's cuisine fed her magic, she could not help but feel very warm towards them indeed.

Human: Rhianwen finds humans...fragile. More flimsy than the Asura, even. Good clients though. Usually rich when they find her, willing to pay through the nose for anything and everything. They might find her services far cheaper if they were willing to get their hands dirty, but heiresses seeking to extend their youth and desperate wives yearning for a quick fix to their problems were not the type to do so.

Norn: The first Norn she encountered was a client, who wrote to her about her fertility struggles. As with any client, they were invited to her swamp for a consultation, to discuss expectations, finances and such, and Rhianwen was quite embarrassed to find that her furniture was very much not Norn-friendly, with the poor woman opting to sit outside rather than risk breaking the chairs in the cabin. Rhianwen is tall for a Sylvari, measuring in at around 7.5 feet, but she was still dwarfed by the woman who sought her aid.

Nevertheless, she was impressed by the strength and practicality of this giant of a woman, and considered patching a hole in her roof more than sufficient payment for her services.

Eight months later, the Norn returned with a swollen belly and her mate in tow, hefting an Elk so fat that Rhianwen's supplies were stocked for months.

13. How do they feel about death?

As a necromancer, as a reaper no less, Rhianwen considers death to be a state of being like any other. So many souls gently toe the line, teetering on the precipice of this world and the next, and her work as a midwife often sees her use her talents to pull a soul back from the brink, should they stray too close.

Some say that she herself has spent so long walking that tightrope that even other necromancers struggle to tell if she is one of the living, or merely a visitor from the mists.

16. Where were they when the call of Mordremoth struck?

Rhianwen is soundless, which thankfully dampened the call. She joined the Pact as a Pale Reaver at Trahearne's request, otherwise, she would not have been involved at all. Her connections to the spirits on other planes of reality made her maker merely another buzz in the sea of voices, though the closer they got to the final battle, the more she found comfort in retreating into her reaper's shroud due to the struggles of her peers.

[hinatastinygiant]

7 | Vermilion

Pairing: Itadori x Fem!Reader

The Encounter

Your hands are helplessly bound behind your back as the kidnapper proceeds to cook a pot of bland-looking oatmeal over a small fire. The smell of the unappetizing meal fills the air and dread gnaws at you as you continue to think about how to get out of this situation. 

Carefully, the man takes a spoonful of his tasteless concoction and gently feeds you, forcing you to accept with each bite. You can't help but hate the food, everything about it is unappealing.

Between bites, your voice trembles as you summon the courage to ask, "Where are we?"

Your kidnapper continues to stuff another spoonful into your mouth, his expression without emotion. "In the woods," he answers plainly.

Then, you can't stop your curiosity from getting the better of you. "Do you live out here?"

He lets out a sigh, as if deciding whether to answer your question. Finally, he nods. "I have a house. Well, more like a cabin. It's about a mile south of here. But I only really go there to watch the television sometimes because it really sucks without the internet out here," he shrugs nonchalantly, as if his double life in the woods and the cabin is a normal thing.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in your head. You realize that his cabin, so close to where you are now, might be your only chance to find help and escape from this nightmare. 

That night, after your kidnapper has fallen asleep and you find yourself alone, awake in the eerie forest. Your heart pounds in your chest as you begin to fiddle with your bonds, determined to free yourself. Slowly, you manage to loosen your restraints enough to slip one hand out, and then the other. Adrenaline surges through you as you break free and make a desperate rush towards his house.

Inside, you find a landline and, without hesitation, you dial Itadori's number. Your hopes skyrocket as you hear the phone ring, but they're ruined just as quickly as the line suddenly goes dead right when Itadori answers with a hopeful "Hello?"

Panic courses through you as you glance around. Your worst fears come true as you spot a shadow lurking just outside the nearby window. Your kidnapper has followed you here, and the realization sinks in that this was all a trap, yet again.

Dread fills your heart as you race to the back door, only to find it locked from the outside. You hate how strategically he's planned every detail of this ordeal, and you can't help but wonder how many others have fallen victim to his twisted game.

Just as despair threatens to consume you, something heavy smacks against the back of your head, and the world fades into darkness.

When you regain consciousness, your head throbs with a pounding headache. You find yourself bound with handcuffs and gagged, sprawled on the cabin's couch. Your attempt has failed, and the chilling truth settles in - you may never see your friends again.

ITADORI'S P.O.V.

It's raining again, and we're still out here searching for Y/N. The worry has begun to eat me alive, and after that strange call I received a few minutes ago that ended abruptly, only added to my sense of unease.

All three of us are completely soaked, the damn weather not showing us any mercy. And despite all our efforts, I can't sense any curses in the area. Even Fushiguro's attempts with his dogs yielded no results.

"Guys, I think we should turn back and get some rest," Nobara says just a bit after eleven that night. "We need some sleep so we can continue the search in the morning."

However, with my growing concern about Y/N, I disagree with her. "No! How could you even think about turning back now?" I question both of them, my anxiety and frustration bubbling over. "If we go back then you're just being terrible friends!"

"Oh don't be a child," Fushiguro chimes in. "You need to think things through. If you don't, then you'll be the one who's a terrible friend."

"Well that's fine with me because I'm not just her friend anyway. I love her and I'm pretty sure she feels similarly," I huff, not realizing what I'm saying until it's too late. The words slip out so unexpectedly, and the two of them freeze, their expressions a mixture of shock and surprise.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I gulp, realizing that I wasn't supposed to confess like this, not without Y/N, and certainly not under these circumstances.

"I knew it!" Nobara makes a failed attempt at whispering to herself. "I knew something was going on with you two."

"How long has it been?" Fushiguro chimes in, trying to dilute Nobara's words.

"Uh, a few months," I answer shly, knowing exactly how she'll react.

"Months?!" Nobara's voice booms. "And neither of you told us? What the hell, Itadori?!"

"We don't have time for this," I gulp, trying to steer the conversation back to finding Y/N. However, Nobara insists on me sharing the details about me and Y/N, and I reluctantly agree, promising to do so only if they both agree to continue walking with me.

After the deal is set, we continue to walk through the woods. Not too much later, we stumble upon a tent and a small laundry line tied between two trees. 

Fushiguro sets his dogs on the site, but still, there's no trace of a curse which solidifies our suspicions that whoever took Y/N is a human.

As I look around, I notice rope and the remnants of a fire from early this morning which immediately grabs my attention. There's no doubt about it, Y/N was definitely here. I just don't know why or where she has been taken, but I'm determined not to stop until I finally do find her, despite what the others might say about rest. What matters to me is finding Y/N. 

The Encounter

Taglist: @liyahsocorro @Bandit6199 @little-aruma

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

In The Lonely Hour (9/10)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | AO3 | 10

Summary: A collection of canon-compliant(ish) one-shots that provide glimpses of Killian's life based on the album "In the Lonely Hour" by Sam Smith.

Like I Can Our captain is jealous of the only person who could make him feel threatened.

Tagging: @kmomof4

Notes:

I should have been writing my CSSNS fic. But, erm, here we are. I hope that the confusion of which he is the he is as fun and disorienting as intended (rather than being a confusing slog that is not enjoyable to read).

Killian thought this was an acceptable plan until Emma had loosened the ties of her borrowed dress and put her bosom on offer for the captain holding court on the other side of the tavern. The smile on her lips as she turned to face the man he once was had been so full of mischievous intent and want, that Killian burned with a feeling he hadn’t encountered before now. When she exaggerated the sway of her hips as she approached the captain and his crew, Killian’s jaw muscle jumped as anger joined the unfamiliar emotion. 

Jealousy, Emma had teased.

He stormed out of the tavern as his former self raked his eyes slowly over Emma’s seductive form. He had to focus on his part of the plan; getting to his ship and ensuring that Snow could not leave before her love story with David was back on track. Why had she been so excited about keeping the other captain so busy?

She was still keeping him at arm’s length, but the version of him from this time she welcomed without a moment’s hesitation. He knew that it was the lack of expectations, the absence of meaning in the flirtation between them that appealed to her. But, it felt as though she would always choose the alternative that kept the most distance between them. Killian was the safe harbour she returned to when she needed respite; but, the moment things dipped below the shallows, she took off anywhere to be away from him. Except this time, the distraction she’d set her sights on was him.

His boots fell heavy on the deck of the Jolly Roger as Smee scurried away to bring Snow aboard. He knew he had to get to his cabin before his meeting with the young royal, but he still took a moment to enjoy the feel of his ship and his home under him. He missed the feeling of the ocean moving beneath him, the creaks of the familiar boards, the soft wood of the wheel in his hand, and, of course, his bed. He wouldn’t change his decision to trade her for the bean that brought him to Swan, but he did yearn for the comfort of his bedroom a time or two since he traded away his home. 

When he stepped off the ladder to his quarters, he was hit by a fresh wave of emotion as he took in the items from his travels that he would never see again. Most of them nothing more than trinkets, but he knew the importance of many of them to the captain currently courting Swan. They were pieces of the victories and the adventures he shared with Milah; ever-present reminders of the only thing that mattered in his life- revenge. Another reason the captain she was flirting and drinking with as he waited for Snow to arrive was more dangerous than Emma suspected. 

After his meeting with Snow concluded, he decided to finish the remainder of his rum before returning to the tavern. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see Swan cosied up to, well, him without actually being able to enjoy the warm of her against him. If any version of him was to get to hold her close tonight, he would rather it was this him when they found a place to rest for the night. 

Heavy boots fell on the deck above him, a sound similar to when he’d arrived on the ship. No, the exact same sound. He is back on my ship, his ship? 

Emma was suddenly there, face flushed, and flustered to find him in the cabin. She had come back to my ship with him? He didn’t have time to deal with the emotion that flared at that realisation before he was hiding from him as he followed her down the ladder.  

Emma pulled him, the wrong him, close. She kissed him hungrily. He was holding her close, kissing her greedily back. She leaned into the kiss, he pressed back and stumbled drunkenly. That ugly feeling was back and before he knew what he was doing, he punched that awful prick as hard as he could in his face. 

Looking at his unconscious foe on the floor of his cabin, Killian registered just how bloody strange this entire situation had been. His knuckles smarted, but he felt an odd sense of pleasure knowing his past self wouldn’t get to know his Swan any better tonight.

Notes:

Chapter 10 will not be "Good Thing" from the album. To allow us the smallest reward for reading this angsty story, I will be using "Latch" from the Deluxe Edition to allow us to end on a happy note. :)

[ellies-cycling-notes]

Day 15: Pittsburgh to Mill Creek

Distance Covered: 87.30 miles

Total Time (including rests): 8:24 (8:46am-5:10pm)

Time spent riding: 7:07

Average Speed: 12.3 mph

Apples Eaten: 3 (??? - 5.5/10, ??? - 7/10, fuji - 7.5/10)

Today's ride was pretty good. Not on the level of the GAP trail, but still better than most of the rest of my rides. It was close today, which was really nice as I didn't have to drink too much water and didn't get overheated. I actually only took 1 "real" stop on the ride, about 70 miles in. I stopped a couple of times before that for refilling water and such, but those stops were 5 minutes at most. I would have liked to go the entire ride without having to stop, but the last stretch was rather tiring so I had to take a break. The first part of the ride took me through several small townships and industrial regions in Pennsylvania. Then, once I crossed the Ohio River for the final time (my route actually had me take several bridges over the Ohio River and back to be able to stay on bike-friendly roads), I entered rural Ohio, which was mostly just flat stretches of road. There were some rather hilly parts, but most of the ride was flat, and even the hilly parts were better than the area around Philadelphia and Baltimore.

A Change in Approach

Now that I've gotten the overview of the ride out of the way, I'd like to address a change that will be happening to this blog. In short, I will be probably writing less, and about less consistent topics for the rest of the ride.

I have finally started to reach the point of mental exhaustion, and was barely able to think about anything other than just riding on today's journey. I was able to focus a lot more by not distracting myself with other thoughts, which is what led me to making rather good time. I still expect to write things as I think about them, and will still give a general overview of the ride, but the "Notes on the Ride" and "Design Notes" categories may not appear at all some days. For example, today I don't have any design notes to write about. I've been feeling overly stressed about making sure I have things to write about, and that's not why I started this blog at all. In fact, when I started this blog, I note that I might not even post every day. I've just gotten too wrapped up in my own perception of the blog, and I need to take a step back and use it in a less systematic manner. With that being said, today I do have some notes from the ride, so here they are:

Notes on the Ride

Bugs on clothes - it is not unusual for me to encounter bugs on my ride that slam into me. However, today had two interesting specimens that were rather different that the usual "fly hits the face". (1) a butterfly flew onto my shirt while I was riding, and latched on, staying attached for a good 2 miles or so before flying off again; (2) a wasp flew at my chest and actually went under my shirt. Luckily, it soon flew out and away from me, but it was quite a scare in the moment.

Industrial train area - the most annoying part of today's ride was only a little bit outside eof Pittsburgh, when my mapping took me on a route through an industrial train area, on rocky gravel paths right next to various traincars.

Water bottle - I got my water refilled by being given a bottle of water from a very kind couple who I encountered on side roads in rural Ohio.

Switched site at campground - I'll discuss the campground more in detail later on, but here I'll mention that, due to the storm, there was great damage to my campsite, so it had to get switched with another one.

Plastic log cabin - I saw a plastic log cabin in the yard of one of the houses I passed by. This wouldn't be interesting, except for the fact that I realized it was the exact same model cabin as the one my family had when I was a kid.

Campsite Issues

I just need to complain a bit here. Mill Creek is not the worst campground possible, but I was rather unlucky, in that the storm from yesterday knocked out the power in the camp, so they don't have running water or working bathrooms. It's a relief that I'm doing alright on water consumption and it's not too hot today, or I might've had to take my bike out for a ride to a store to buy bottled water. Part of me feels like I should've searched for other campsites nearby and gone to one of them instead, not caring about the reservation I made here. This does give me an excuse, though, to go to sleep early, because there's nothing like a shower or such to keep me awake.

That's all for today. No design notes today, a rather good ride but not so good campsite, and getting mentally tired. I'll probably start riding early tomorrow, riding through rural Ohio all day. Tomorrow's ride is supposed to be a similar distance to today's, but I hope it's flatter.

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