Let's put a pin in that!

requested! thank you. content: pregnancy, public affection, protective!pedro

the press tour is loud. cameras flash nonstop, people shouting his name from every direction, microphones being pushed closer and closer like they might miss something if they blink. it’s overwhelming — not for him, never for him — but pedro still feels his hand tighten around yours instinctively.

you’re glowing. visibly pregnant, dress hugging your belly in a way the internet has already dissected frame by frame. there’s something sacred about it, about you standing there so calm, so sure, one hand resting protectively over your stomach as if the world isn’t screaming around you.

pedro doesn’t let go of you for a second.

his hand never leaves the small of your back. sometimes it slides lower, palm splayed over your belly, thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles like he’s reminding both of you that everything is okay. that you are okay. that the baby is okay.

and the internet? the internet is feral.

someone posts a clip — barely ten seconds long — of him stepping slightly in front of you when a photographer gets too close. his body shields yours without thinking. his arm curves around you, firm and sure, chin dipping just enough so he can murmur something only you can hear.

you smile immediately. that’s what sends everyone over the edge.

because you don’t look scared. you don’t look fragile. you look adored.

during the interview, the host asks a question about the project — some joke about long shoots and exhausting schedules — and pedro answers politely, smoothly, like always. but then he glances at you.

“we adjusted things,” he says easily. “made sure she was comfortable. that was the priority.”

no hesitation. no overexplaining. the priority.

your hand squeezes his, and he looks down at you like you’re the only person in the room. like the cameras aren’t there. like the world hasn’t been watching every move you’ve made together since the pregnancy became public.

later, when you’re seated, he pulls your chair closer without even asking. his knee stays pressed against yours the entire time. when you shift, he notices. when you breathe differently, he notices. when you absentmindedly rub your belly, he’s already there, covering your hand with his.

photos circulate within minutes.

pedro pascal cannot stop touching his pregnant wife.

the way he looks at her???

that man is DOWN BAD.

and they’re right. because when the carpet ends and the noise fades just a little, pedro leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple. not for the cameras — they just happen to catch it.

“you okay, baby?” he asks quietly.

you nod. “yeah. you?”

he smiles, wide and warm and so full it almost hurts.

“never better.”

that night, the internet keeps spiraling.

zoomed-in screenshots of his hand on your belly. slow-motion gifs of him guiding you through the crowd. compilations titled pedro pascal: protective husband era.

and somewhere in a quiet hotel room, away from the flashes and the noise, he helps you out of your heels, kisses your stomach goodnight, and holds you like the world can wait.

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Your friend asks you a favor to help Joel and Ellie settle into Jackson. Both of them are infuriating in their own ways, but it leads to something beautiful.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, years after the outbreak, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, violence, Ellie is a difficult kid, Joel is kinda a teasing asshole, 16 years age gap between Joel and reader

Words: 6.9k

Notes: Welocme to the first chapter of the series. I’m so excited, honestly my feelings towards this chapter are mixed, but I hope you’ll like it. This chapter is more of an introduction, the real plot happens in the next one. But I think it’s nice. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Please, do not copy my work. Thanks!

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

| my masterlist | series masterlist |

Joel's And Your First Time

Warnings: Smut (under 18's DNI), fluff.

Word Count: 1,703

Joel can't remember the last time he felt a connection this strongly with a woman. He finds himself lost in your enigmatic pull, noticing every little thing about you, from the way your nose scrunches when you giggle, how you become so passionate when talking about a subject close to your heart, the way you hold yourself with grace, your playful and witty personality and how your natural beauty radiates without even having to try.

Sometimes he can't fathom how someone like you could want someone like him, yet here you both are, seven months into your relationship. That word still sound so strange to Joel. In a brutal world of cordyceps and lawlessness he'd never even wanted a romantic relationship. For the longest time he was fine with no strings attached hookups, never daring to invest any emotion in a woman who could be torn away in the blink of an eye. It was better that way.

But then you waltzed into his life and pulled the rug from under his feet, sending his walls crashing to the ground. A few months of flirting, subtle gestures and stolen glances was all it took before the two of you confessed your mutual love for one another and you've both been inseparable ever since, even gaining the nickname 'The Lovebirds' by some of Jackson's residents.

Sitting on the setee, watching your eyes sparkle in the light of the fireplace as you tell Joel yet another story of your life 'Before', he realises how much he hangs on your every word, the sweet lilt of your voice is something he'll never be able to get enough of. Setting his whisky glass on your table, Joel turns back to you observing how you suddenly seem nervous. "You okay?'" Joel asks, his voice soft with concern. "Yeah... um... I'm good," you answer sheepishly, then put your glass next to his.

Before Joel knows what's happening, you're straddling his lap, kissing him deeply and sensually, your hands delicately gripping his hair, while his own find their way to your waist, pulling you tight against his body. Your sudden moan into his mouth electrifies Joel's entire body, arousal coursing it's way south. "Joel?..." his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, as you pull away slightly, noses still touching. "Mmhmm," Joel hums, lost in the haze of you. "I want you to make love to me." Oh, that cleared his foggy mind!

He pulls his head back, quickly, assessing your expression to see if it's what you really want, if maybe you'd just let it slip out without thinking, but all he can see is love and want written all over your face. "Are you sure?" he asks, just to be thorough, "I told you I don't mind waiting." Hell, he'd wait until the end of time if that's what it took just to be with you. He knows that to you, sex is a very emotional and intimate act, never being one for hookups and he respects the hell out of that. After all, everyone is different.

He let's out a deep groan as you rub your core over his very obvious hard-on. "I want you, Joel. I want all of you," you purr seductively into his ear, "I'm ready, take me to bed, baby." Joel chuckles at the little yelp you give as he grips both of your arse cheeks and effortlessly stands up, carrying you up the stairs with ease. He gently sets you down on the bed, lifting your chin to look ardently in to your eyes. "You really want this?" "I do," you smile up at him with the biggest heart eyes, "I want to feel the man I love inside me."

Joel wastes no time in pulling your top off, followed by your bra, all of your clothes, until you are fully naked before him and what a fucking sight you are! "So beautiful," Joel gushes as he takes in the sight of utter perfection. Moments later, his own clothes are a discarded pile on the floor and he watches as your roving eyes greedily drink him in, staring at his hardened shaft, while biting your bottom lip. You eagerly pull Joel on top of you as you lay back on the bed. Hands wander, seeking out bare flesh as you both fully explore each other's bodies for the first time.

Joel trails wet, languid kisses down you neck, feeling your pulse quicken under his tounge, until he reaches your breasts. He gently latches his mouth to your breast, swirling his tounge around your pebbled nipple. A grin spreads over his face as you arch your chest upwards, seeking more of his mouth. Joel releases your nipple with a 'pop' and a devilish smirk. "I'm gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," he croons while slowly moving his fingers to your soft folds. "So wet already," he marvels, "All this for me, huh?"

His fingers then find your clit and he starts to rub in circles, gradually building speed, resulting in a spectacle he'll never forget; Your head tipped back, mouth in the shape of an 'o', your chest heaving and the melody of your euphoric cry as he draws the first orgasm from your trembling body. He allows you to catch your breath for a minute, enjoying your blissed out appearance. "Think you can give me another one, sweetheart?" he asks in a sultry tone. "Mmhmm...," you nod, deliriously.

Joel's thick fingers slide down to your entrance, carefully parting your lips. Slowly and delicately, he pushes one finger into the warmth of your tunnel, followed by another, stroking your spongy spot until he can tell you're close. He kisses down your belly as your moans grow louder, finally settling on your clit. Between pumping his fingers in and out and licking and sucking your sensitive bundle, he has turned you into a writhing mess beneath him, griping his hair and bucking up into his mouth.

Every obscene moan, pant and wail coming from you is music to Joel's ears, causing him to smile against your sex. He's the one making you feel this good. With a shudder of your thighs and a scream of his name, your second orgasm crashes over you, coating him in your juices. Joel laps at your release like a man parched, the sweetest nectar to ever grace his tastebuds. "You still with me, darling?" Joel teases as he moves up your body to kiss you, giving you a taste of your own release. "Yeah... Joel, that was.. wow!" you pant as you begin to come back down from your high.

Joel's painfully hard cock presses into your hip, a testament to just how much he wants you. "Your turn," you smirk as you reach down, wrapping your soft hand around his girth, slowly pumping, while spreading a bead of pre cum over his glistening head. Joel knows he won't last much longer if you keep this up. Reaching down to lightly grab your hand, he stops your ministrations. "Darling, I'm not gonna last much longer like this and I want to feel your pussy around my cock, now," he groans. " Then take it," you purr, nipping his neck, "It's all yours."

Good god! He feels ready to blow his load from your words alone. Lining himself up at your entrance, Joel gazes into your eyes as he slowly sinks into your heat, causing both of you to gasp as he bottoms out. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, holding him in place, both of you remaining still to relish in this new intimacy. After a few moments you whine, "Fuck me, Joel!", your hand grabbing his arse cheek. He dosen't need to be told twice! Pulling out to the tip, he pushes himself back in, with just the right amount of force to begin with, thrusting harder and faster as your moans become louder and your nails dig into his shoulders. "oh, Joel! Right there, baby!"

He knows there'll be little crescent shapes over his back for a few days. He'll wear them as a badge of honour! "Fuck, sweetheart! So...ugh... tight,... ugh... so perfect!" He's getting close now, wishing it would never end; The velvety soft warmth enveloping his dick, squeezing and pulsing with every thrust is intoxicating, heightening all of his senses. The downright sinful sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, accompanied with your cry of his name may just be Joel's new favourite sounds.

Joel reaches between your bodies to circle your clit once again, determined to draw one last orgasm from you before he reaches his own climax. It only takes several seconds before you are clamping down on his cock, thighs gripping him like a vice, voice shuddering as you gush all over his pubic area. Chasing his own release, Joel asks, "where do you want me?" "On my... tits," you reply breathlessly. Another few thrusts and Joel quickly pulls out, painting your heaving chest in thick ropes of hot cum.

He flops down beside you as you both catch your breath. Pressing his forehead to yours and gently stroking your arm, Joel whispers, "You okay, darling? Wasn't too rough?" The blissfully fucked out look on your face alone tells Joel you're okay. "I'm great, baby. More than great!" Joel gazes adoringly at you while you cup his cheek in one hand. "That was everything I hoped it would be. How was it for you?" Joel smiles broadly, "Fucking amazing, sweet girl!" He presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your nose, then to your lips.

"Be right back," he says as he heads to the bathroom. Moments later he returns with a warm, wet towel and tenderly cleans you up. Laying back down beside you, he takes you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest as you both bask in the afterglow of your actions. Joel can tell by your slow, even breathes that you've fallen alseep. He takes this moment to appreciate everything about you, his heart aching with how much love he holds for you. You are IT for him, The One, and you were absolutely worth waiting for.

Summary: You and Joel settle in with a newborn.

Warnings: None, except for the sweetest, ovary obliterating fluff! And Joel being the best dad and husband 😌

Word count: 786

A/N: This is a short drabble inspired by a reel I saw on facebook and I just haven't been able to get it off my mind. I hope you all enjoy...

The crying is what woke you; small but powerful, drawing you out of your exhaustion, your feet hitting the bedroom floor before your eyes even opened fully. Opening the bedroom door, the sound carries you along the landing and down the stairs by pure motherly instinct alone. By the time you reach the living room, the cries have stopped; in their place a gentle, low hum fills the room. Joel doesn't even hear your footsteps, too busy whispering soft reassurances to the perfect two day old life you'd both created. "Shhh... Shhh... It's okay. Daddy's got you, baby girl," he mumbles softly while pressing delicate kisses to the crown of her head. "We have to settle down now 'cause your mom needs her rest." Tears fill your eyes as you lean against the door frame, one hand clutched over your heart, the other covering your mouth.

This sight; the most beautiful sight you've ever seen threatens to unravel you in the most heartwarming way. You would blame it on the hormones, but you know it's not that. Joel, your Joel, the man who can scare people off with just a scowl, who has fought tooth and nail for those he loves is standing, half turned away from you, with his daughter against his chest, his hands looking impossibly large on her tiny body as he cradles her with a gentle tenderness you'd never expected to see from him. "You're the most precious thing to me, you know that?" he humms as he looks down into her little face, his smile impossibly large. "You and your mother; I'd die before I let anything happen to you both," he vows with absolute certainty.

That's what did it; that declaration, both gentle and fierce, born only from the love a parent can have is what broke the dam. A shaky cry from the doorway has Joel snapping his head up, his brow creased with worry. "Honey, what's wrong?' he asks quietly, so not to disturb the baby. He starts walking towards you but stops when you lower your hand from your mouth, revealing the smile hiding behind it. "Nothing..." your voice shakes with emotion. "Nothing is wrong at all. Everything's perfect." Joel's frown eases into a soft smile and he opens one arm, beckoning you to come to him, which you do without hesitation. "Then why are you crying, sweetheart?" he says, pressing a kiss to your head as he holds you tight.

"I'm happy, Joel. I'm so happy," you gush against his flannel, your tears soaking into it but he doesn't seem to mind. "She has the best father the universe could have given her," you tell him as you look up into his eyes. Tears glisten in them, his expression not hiding just what your words mean to him. This man was born to be a father. It's as true as water is wet. Joel clears his throat, his voice wavering slightly. "And she has the most incredible mother she could have." You both smile at each other, lost in the intimacy only being a family can bring. A little grunt emanates from your husbands' chest and you look across to see a big pair of deep brown eyes staring at you; her dad's eyes. "Hi, sweetie." You stroke her cheek, her skin like silk under your fingers. "She heard her mama's voice," Joel chuckles softly.

You lean towards her, placing a kiss on her forehead. "What are you doing up, honey? You should be resting," Joel insists, stroking up and down your arm. "I heard her crying," you answer, gaze still locked on her. "You don't need to worry about that," Joel reassures you. "I've got her. You should go back to bed." "Would you both come with me?" you ask, hopefully. "I just want her near me as I drop off." Joel smiles, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. "Of course we will. Now let's get you to bed." Joel's hand remains on the small of your back as you all ascend the stairs slowly. Your body still aches in places you didn't know was possible and you can sense that Joel is ready to help you, should you need it. Pulling back the quilt, Joel takes your arm, helping to ease you into the bed and making sure you are comfortable before tucking you in.

Settling down beside you, he rests against the headboard with your daughter snuggled on his lap. With both of his girls under his care, he truly feels at ease. He watches as your finger strokes the back of the baby's hand, your eyes struggling to stay open. Stroking your hair, he whispers, "Rest now, sweetheart. I've got you both."

Summary: You and Clark have been in a relationship for the past several months but he's yet to reveal his secret to you. When you get caught up in a bank robbery and taken hostage, Superman comes to the rescue and seems just little to concerned with your well being...

Warnings: Fluff, angst, violence, kidnapping, protective clark, use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2,638

A/N: I've always been a huge fan but this is my first attempt at writing for Superman. Feel free to imagine whatever Superman you want. I would love to know what you think of our big boy in blue coming to our rescue. Protective Superman makes me melt 😌

The day had started so well. Waking up in the warm embrace of your boyfriend of five months, after finally taking the next step in your relationship has left you in a dreamy haze all day. The fact that Clark had waited for you to be ready without pressuring or gas-lighting you was new to you, and that had made last night even more special. But of course, the universe can't let you have too much of a good thing, which is why you now find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun, a masked man ordering you to stop where you are. You'd only come in to the bank to withdraw some cash since the damn outside ATMs were down. How did it all descend into such chaos so quickly?!

"Keep your hands where I can see them and get away from the door!" The man snarls. A shudder runs down your spine, and a cold sweat breaks out across your skin. You'd almost managed to sneak out without being seen. Maybe that's what has angered him so much because the second you're within reach his hand shoots out, gripping your hair with punishing force. Tears spring to your eyes from the sudden pain, trembling hands automatically flying to his wrist. A gasp rushes up your throat. "Please don't hurt me!" you yelp, shrinking from the menacing man towering over you. "Shut up!" he roars, pulling your head back further. You can't stop the pained cry escaping you.

"Will you lot hurry up in there?!" he booms to the three men ransacking the vault at the far end of the bank. Your eyes dart to the left wall, where staff and several customers are crouched on the ground, some crying, some offering comfort to those beside them. "All done in here, boss," echoes a voice from the vault. Three men, all dressed in black clothing and wearing black balaclava's rush out onto the main floor, bulging duffle bags slung over their backs. Their boss, still with your hair in his grasp, dashes over to the front door. When he gets there, he pulls you in front of him and to your horror, you realise he's using you as a human shield. Five police cars are parked haphazardly outside the bank, every police officer's gun pointed your way.

Logically, you know you have nothing to fear from their weapons but misfires can- and do- happen and it's that possibility that has your stomach in knots! "Open the door," your captor growls, pressing his gun to your temple. You comply, pushing it open half way. "I didn't want it to come to this...!" 'Boss' yells from behind you, almost bursting your eardrum in the process. "But you guys just don't know when to quit! We're leaving now and if we see anyone following us, the girl is dead." He yanks you back from the door. "Move!" he barks, stepping backwards while still using you as a shield.

He rejoins his men, dragging you through a corridor towards a back door. The entire walk is so surreal. A part of your brain refuses to accept this is happening but the rest of your mind is centerd on only one thing, or specifically, one person: Clark. Will you ever see him again? Feel the safety of his embrace, his lips on yours? How will he cope if you don't make it through this? Tears spill down your cheeks, your heart being torn apart for the both of you. This can't be it! You can't leave him! There's only one hope for you now: Superman. You just pray he's close enough to help...

The tiny flashing blue lights of the police cars become bigger as clark nears the scene. Over a dozen police officers have their sights on the bank building in front of them, but some turn their attention to Clark the moment he lands amongst them. "Superman! Thank god!" A middle aged policeman exclaims. "What's happening?" Clark asks, his tone professionally calm. "Bank robbery turned hostage situation. We can probably get to her, but it's risky." "I'll take care of it," Clark assures the officer before floating above the building. Foucsing his vision on the bank, the walls become almost non exsitant to him.

Skeletons huddle against the wall in the main part of the building, while a group of five other skeletons scurry along a long corridor to a back door, one of them clearly being dragged against their will. Clark silently drops into the private parking lot at the back of the building just as the door swings open with a thud. "Move! Move!" A frantic voice commands. Four men spill out into the lot: Three up front, the fourth, holding the hostage, obscured behind them. "I don't know why you even bother to-" Clark's words are cut short, his throat closing up as the startled men spread out with their handguns drawn, revealing you at the back of their group, a gun pointed at your head.

In that moment Clarks whole world narrows down to just you and the look of terror in your eyes. The blood in his veins turns to ice, every muscle seizing up and all he can do is stare. That is until you release a sharp cry as your head is tugged backwards, the unimaginable sight snapping Clark back to the here and now. A fear he's never felt before-deep rooted and primal- buries itself deep under his skin and for the first time in his life, he has the desire to kill. "I'll give you one chance to let her go, unharmed," Clark warns, his voice ominous, hands white knuckled at his sides. His eyes flicker between the gun and the fool holding you captive.

You could honestly cry right now, more from relief than fear. Superman's here! He's really here. Surely now everything will be okay. Though you've never met him in person, you've watched plenty of video's of him handling worse situations than this with confidence and ease... So why, when his eyes met yours, did all the colour drain form his face? Why did fear flash through his eyes and his shoulders tense up? "You don't get to call the shots, Superman!" 'Boss' snarls, placing the gun under your chin. Your eyes widen and your heart thumps painfully against your ribs.

"You know I can move faster than you can pull the trigger," Superman says. Theres' a deadly undertone in his voice and in your peripheral, the other men shuffle, glancing between their leader and Superman, guns still raised. "Are you willing to take the chance?" 'Boss' retorts smugly. A heavy silence falls and you hold your breath, bracing for... whatever is about to come. Suddenly, a hot, stinging sensation spreads under your chin right where the tip of the gun is pressed. 'Boss' let's out a shriek, dropping the gun and releasing you at the same time. You didn't even register it happening, but now you're standing behind Superman, his red cape clutched in your fists. One of his arms is wrapped you, keeping you pressed to his back.

Peeking around his side, you watch in awe as Superman releases a loud puff of air, sending the four men careening into the wall, knocking them unconcious. Shouts and footsteps fill the parking lot as police officers storm the area. You breathe out, relief overwhelming you. Before you even have the chance to thank your saviour, Superman spins to face you, his expression frantic. "Honey..." His hands cup your face, the tenderness of it oddly familiar. "Are you okay?! Did they hurt you?!" DId you hit your head at some point because you're certain Superman just called you 'Honey'? And the way he's looking at you right now... "I-I'm okay," you stutter, unsure what to make of this. Superman's hold on your face doesn't waver, even as his shoulders visibly relax.

The frown on his face disappears and he sighs, "I was so afraid I was gonna lose you!" "W-what-" His lips crash to yours, cutting off your words. Your whole body tenses, eye's bugging out and your hands push against his solid chest. What the hell?! This is wrong! How dare he. The only one who gets to kiss you like this is Clark. Wait... Clark does kiss you like this; exactly like this. The softness of his lips, the sweep of arms coming around you, one across your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head... It's the same! You freeze again as the realisation hits you like a sledgehammer. How did you not see it before?! This time, when you push against his chest, he allows the space, breaking the kiss and giving you a look that's part confusion, part worry.

You stare, slack jawed, taking in the man before you and it's as if a veil has been lifted. The vibrant blue of his eyes, the one vertical crease between his brows, the dimples. You know them all! Air rushes out of your lungs in one go. "C- Clark?!" you gasp, eyes dropping to take a long, drawn out sweep of his body before fixing back on his. That's when his puzzled expression shifts into wide eyed panic. "Shit," he mumbles, looking down at his bright blue suit, then back to you. "I'll explain everything, honey..." He let's go of your cheeks, clasping your hands instead. "Just not here." Super- Clark glances around at the hectic scene but you can't tare your eyes from him.

"You- you lied to me!" A lump forms in your throat, tears burning your eyes. "No!" Clark breathes, his tone pained. "I'd never lie to you. I have my reasons for keeping this from you and I swear, I'll tell you everything as soon as we're alone. But first, I have to make sure you're okay." Your mouth opens but no words come out. This is all too much to process! Clark, your clark is Superman! "Y/N... please," Clark whispers and the wet sheen to his pleading eyes makes your heart clench. "Miss?" A concerned voice comes from beside you, causing you and Clark to drop each other's hands as you turn to face the officer. "Are you injured? Do you need medical attention?" "Uh...No, no... I'm- I'm fine," you fumble over your reply. The officer doesn't look convinced. "Ma'am, I think you may be in shock." He's right, but not for the reason he thinks. "I think you should get checked out at the hospital, just to be sure."

"I can take her." Clark's warm hand on your elbow helps to ground you and your return your attention to him. He gives you a silent 'Okay?' look and you nod. He bends down, placing one arm around your back and the other behind your thighs. Your arms loop around his neck and he scoops you off your feet. "Once you're able," the policeman quickly says, "We'll need to take a statement off you at the station." "Okay," you reply, your voice shaky. "Ive got you," Clark whispers into your ear and then you're lifting into the air, your stomach doing that 'swoop' sensation you get on a rollercoaster. You tighten your grip around Clark's neck, tucking yourself further into his frame. "Dont drop me!" you shudder, watching the city pass by below. "Never," Clark smiles, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

*****

"OW!' You suck the air in sharply through your teeth as Clark spreads Savlon cream over the circular burn under you chin. "Sorry," he winces, and proceeds to tap lighter around the area. Today was close, too close. He can't ever lose you. Just the thought makes him want to tear his hair out. If he'd been late or on the other side of the world... It doesn't bare thinking about. He made it to you but you didn't come out unscathed, and that absolutely guts him! His face floods with remorse. "I'm so sorry I hurt you." "Clark-" "I was careless," he continues over you. "It's just when I saw that gun, I panicked." "You didn't have many options, darling," you sooth. "It was either a little burn or a possible bullet in my head. Guess which one I would choose." Clark screws the cap onto the tube of cream and let's it drop on the sofa. He lets out a long sigh. "I'm meant to protect you; not hurt you."

You've never seen Clark like this before. This spiral of self loathing is unbearable to watch."You did protect me, Clark! You saved my life the only way you could, and I'll always be thankful." Your hands come up to cup his face, forcing his eyes to meet yours. "I'm alive because of you. That's what matters... Okay?" Clark's lips press into a thin line but he eventually nods. You give him a soft smile and for a moment, neither of you say anything. "Why didn't you tell me?" you ask after a few seconds, unable to keep the hurt from your voice. "Y/N-" "I thought we had trust," You lament. "We do!" Clark exclaims, grabbing your hand in his much larger ones. "I trust you more than anyone in this world!" "So why didn't you tell me?" Clark takes a deep breath, his thumb rubbing light circles on the back of your hand. He's glad he gets to finally tell you the truth but he didn't want it to happen this way.

"It was never about not trusting you, honey. It was about keeping you safe. I've made a lot of enemies; the worst one still being at large." "Lex Luthor," you acknowledge with a nod. It's no secret that Lex Luthor and Superman are mortal enemies, and it's only a matter of time before Lex crawls out of whatever hole he's hiding in to strike again. "Yeah," Clark sighs. "If he ever found out about you, he wouldn't hesitate to use you against me. I did what I did to keep you safe." You nod, taking in this new information. "Were you ever going to tell me?" you ask. "Yes," Clark answers without hesitation. "When it was safe enough. When there was no threat to you. I never wanted any secrets between us."

A moment of silent understanding passes between you before Clark says, "Are you mad?" His earnest gaze tugs at your heart, those puppy dog eyes destroying any uncertainty you'd been holding on to. You stand and slide into his lap, his arms coming around your waist. "I was..." you begin. "But I get it; you wanted to protect me." "That's all I wanted," Clark agreed. "But clark... you have to promise you won't keep secrets from me again... No matter how big." Clark nods, emphatically. "I mean it," you press. "I want to be there for every aspect of your life..." You undo the buttons of the crisp, white shirt he's now wearing and open it to reveal the red and yellow "S" on his broad chest. Tracing the pattern with your fingers, you smile and gaze into his crystal blue eyes. "Including this one."

"I promise, honey," Clark smiles, and you pull him into a slow, deep kiss. His hands roam from your hips to the curve of your arse and you can't help but groan, as you straddle his waist, your chest pressing against his. It's a good thing you're sitting down because right now, your legs are useless. Clark always has this affect on you and you wouldn't have it any other way. "I love you, so much," Clark whispers against your lips, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating into your chest. "I love you too," you pant, pulling back to meet his eyes. "Wer're in this together." Clark grins. "Together."

You Take Care of Your Wounded General

Warnings: Injury, blood.

Word Count: 1,576

The thud of distant horse hoofs grow closer as you anxiously await the return of your husband, General Marcus Acacius. Fingers twisted in the the folds of your Palla, you pace the courtyard of your villa, hoping, praying the rider is Marcus. The gates open and your breath leaves you in one forceful exhale as Marcus rides through, bloodied and bruised and covered in dirt. The guards at the gate rush to him as he dismounts but he waves off their concerns without a second thought, as if this is all in a days work for Marcus.

It's only when he sees you that he stops dead where he is, the look of surprise and confusion plastered across his face making you bite your lip as guilt washes over you. Maybe you've been too unfair to him. Maybe he means more to you than you were willing to accept and today was the push you needed to finally admit to yourself that you do indeed care for him. Three months have passed since your wedding and for those three months you'd been giving him a wide berth (as much as you could being under the same roof).

You were silently furious when Marcus and your father arranged the union, speaking of dowries and wedding plans as if you weren't even in the same room as them. That day you'd felt like nothing more than cattle to be traded. And every day since your wedding you'd felt like a prisoner in your own home. Marcus tried to make you feel at home, engaging you in conversation (even though your answers were as short as possible), making sure you had every comfort and even kept a respectful distance (even while sharing a bed, he'd stayed by the edge of his side) after you'd broken down in tears on your wedding night, fearing your 'wifely duties'. Upon seeing your distress he'd swiftly promised you he wouldn't touch you until you wanted him to and has kept his word all these months.

And now as you take in his battered form and big puppy dog eyes your last resolve cracks and with that an outpouring of respect, appreciation and even affection flows freely from your heart. Before you even realise what you're doing you're burying your face in Marcus' chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. He smells like sweat, blood and dirt but you don't care. He's alive and he's here. After a few tense moments you feel his muscles relax and his strong arms come around and envelop you, holding your much smaller frame as if you're made of glass.

"It's okay, it's over," he whispers into your hair. "I was so worried, Marcus," you muffle into his chest, still holding him tight. "shhh..." he soothes stroking the back of your head. You pull back to get a good look at him, studying the cuts and bruises littering his face and arms and your heart clenches in your chest. He did this for you, for all of Rome. He'd literally put his life on the line for you today and you'll never forget that. Marcus' eyebrows raise in question as your wet eyes trail the remnants of the brutality he'd just endured. The fact that he wasn't expecting such a reaction form you makes you want to hang your head in shame.

"You're hurt" your voice wobbles as you cup his cheek, watching the blood still trickling down the other side of his face. Marcus' gaze softens and the small smile he gives you makes your heart soar. "It's nothing major," he shakes his head, "Just cuts and scrapes. I've had much worse." "Come with me," you say softly, reaching behind you to take his hand from your back and lead him to your bed chamber. Pressing on his shoulders, you make him sit at the foot of the bed whispering "Wait here." Moments later you return with a tray containing a large bowl of steaming water, gauze, cloths and jars of vinegar and honey. You place the tray beside him on the bed and step between his spread legs, all the while Marcus just watches you, the intensity of his stare making your skin tingle.

Squeezing the excess water from the rag you return your attention to your husband, gently cupping one side of his face and slowly you begin to wash the part dried, part sticky crimson trail from his skin and beard. When your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat. He's looking at you with both intrigue and warmth and you can't hold back the tenderness in your own smile. As you clean the deep wound on the top of his forehead, you feel him flinch slightly but he makes no sound. "Sorry," you grimace, making sure to lighten your touch even more. "It's okay," Marcus smiled at you. A few seconds of silence pass. "I'm sorry," you say again.

"It's okay," Marcus cocks a brow, "It doesn't really hurt-" "No, I mean... I'm sorry for how I've been treating you." Marcus' mouth snaps shut, waiting for you to continue. "I know I haven't been easy to live with theses past months. I haven't really appreciated everything you've done for me-" Marcus' hand reaches up to hold yours and your eyes flick back to his. "I understand. It's been a big change for you and I'm not sure you were prepared for it." You shake your head. "You've been nothing but kind and patient with me and I don't deserve it. When you left to stop that uprising... I was so scared-" "You were never in any danger, I promise you," Marcus' hand gave yours a tiny squeeze.

A humourless chuckle passes your lips. "I wasn't scared for myself. I was scared for you. I was afraid I'd never see you again and... I didn't want to lose you, Marcus" your voice trembled as you let everything you'd been too afraid to admit come to light. "I've grown to care deeply for you and it confused me, but watching you leave for maybe the last time..." your shoulders sagged as your head dropped. "It made me realise how much you've come to mean to me. I really am sorry," you mumbled regretfully. Unable to look him in the eye now, you move onto the cuts on his right arm, taking great care in your ministrations. It's the very least you can do for him after what he's just been through.

Your name, whispered so softly, as a lover would address his sweetheart, causes your head to lift up and you find yourself drowning in a look of adoration you're not sure you're worthy of. Marcus cups your cheek, the warmth of his calloused hands bringing you the comfort you didn't know you needed. "Don't apologise," he frowns softly. "Let's just begin again. You and me, a fresh start." You drop the rag to the floor and clasp the back of his hand on your cheek, tears of relief and of happiness filling your eyes. "I'd really like that, husband," you blushed.

A single tear falls and Marcus wipes it away with his thumb. His eyes drop to your lips and you can see the longing residing in them plain as day, the same longing you've been feeling for the past month. Marcus slowly leans in, eyes not leaving yours, stopping just inches from your lips and you realise he's giving you the control to close the gap if you wish. Excitement swells in your tummy, your heart beating like a drum. You close the gap, shutting your eyes at the last moment and ever so lightly press your lips to his. Marcus' lips are so soft, so plush that you can't help but melt into them. His arms come around your back and he pulls you closer so you are pressing chest to chest.

You slide your hands behind his neck, feeding your fingers through his curls at the nape and you open your mouth to allow his tongue inside. Marcus deepens the kiss, both of you exploring each others' mouths for the first time. You feel him smile as an involuntary moan climbs up your throat. Marcus pulls his lips away, resting his forehead against yours. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that, to kiss you, to hold you and take care of you," Marcus professed in a hushed whisper. Placing your thumb and forefinger under his chin, you tilt his head so he's looking you in the eyes. "I look forward to much more of that, my love," you beam at him, kissing the tip of his nose, "but for now you're going to rest and let me take care of you."

Marcus chuckled at your assertiveness. "You're giving the General of Rome orders?" "Damn right," you smirk, "and you'll do well to obey." "Yes, my lady," a deep rumble of amusement echoes from Marcus' chest. You stand and place yourself between Marcus' legs again, picking up a clean cloth and continue with cleaning his wounds, applying vinegar and honey before carefully covering them with gauze, finishing with a kiss to each injury. And the whole time Marcus watches you like you're too good to be true. You've both crossed into new territory now and you have a feeling that this is the beginning of something incredible; a deep and sacred connection that will only grow and grow.

Din Watching You With Grogu

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word Count: 666

Din has never felt this way before. It's new, it's intense and it's terrifying. How he managed for years in his solitary existence is unfathomable to him now. Grogu entering his life had changed everything. The adorable green gremlin had managed to burrow himself into Din's guarded heart, fanning the flames of warmth that still lurked in there.

In no time at all that warmth had spread to every molecule of Din's being and had turned into love. Love, such a foreign, almost elusive concept, considering the last time Din had felt love was towards his parents. But, yes, love. He loves his son with a passion, a deep rooted well of devotion and affection.

He didn't think it was possible for his heart to expand any further, yet, here he is, watching with rapt enchantment as you cradle and sing to his sleepy son, and all the while Din feels his chest bloom with an incredible warmth that could cause him to spontaneously combust. You are beautiful, without even trying to be!

From the moment Din met you for an unofficial 'interview' in that dusty cantina, he'd felt a strange pull to you. It was a combination of things, really; Your obvious, natural beauty eclipsed the entire room, sure, but your instant rapport and maternal tenderness towards his foundling and your genuine warmth in general, had opened a never before explored region within Din's heart and he knew then and there, he had to offer you a position as Grogu's nanny.

Your melodic voice carries through the hull of the Razor Crest creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity, and a sense of home. The Razor Crest has always been just a ship to Din. Somewhere to stay warm, somewhere to eat and sleep and something to get him from A to B. But now with you and Grogu here it's home.

Din could watch you two forever, the blaster pistol in his hand now shining from being over polished. Stars! How he loves you. He didn't realise this kind of love existed, that there can be different kinds of love. You have unknowingly become the very beat of his heart, the air in his lungs, a soothing calm for the chaos that is his life.

For months he's wanted to tell you how he feels, but whenever the opportunity presented itself, he lost his nerve. He's never been a coward in his entire life, until now and he hates that. A normally fearless Mandalorian, who strikes dread and alarm into most people, mentally and emotionally undone, reduced to a nervous boy. This is the effect you have on him. His heart is in your hands. Boy, he never saw that coming.

Grogu finally settles and falls asleep, snoring softly as you lay him in his hammock, and kiss his wrinkled forehead. Closing the door of the sleeping bunk behind you, you turn to face Din, pressing a finger to your lips, followed by a "Shhh...," but also a soft smile and a 'look' that gives him hope. Din hopes he isn't just imagining it, but lately, he suspects you may have feelings for him too. In fact he's becoming more and more certain of it with each passing day.

He continues to clean his blaster (even though it's spotless by now), watching as you disappear into the fresher, as is your nightly routine; Put the baby down, shower and join Din in the cockpit where, over time, you've managed to pull enough conversations out of him that now he enjoys these moments of easy exchange between you both.

He's made his mind up. He will no longer be a coward. Tonight when you join him, he will confess everything to you. He will bare his heart and soul to the woman who has fundamentally changed him on every level, who has brought him to recognise this powerful, all encompassing love. Tonight he prays that his clan of two will become a clan of three.

Joel When You're Ill

Warnings: None, just fuff.

This idea came to me while dealing with a stomach bug and, oh how I wish Joel Miller would take care of me :)

Word Count: 1,182

Joel's bones ache as he rides into Jackson after an eight hour patrol. Knees creaking as he dismounts at the stables, he presses his hands into his lower back and stretches out, a satisfying click rippling through his spine. All he wants now is a hot bath and quality time with his girl. After settling his horse in the stable, he makes his way outside with Tommy, where Maria is waiting to greet her husband.

"How was it?" she asked, pressing a chaste kiss to his Tommy's lips. "Nothing much to report," Tommy began, "A couple 'a' straggler Runners-" "But Tommy shot them from half a mile away," Joel ribbed, at his younger brother, thumping his shoulder. "Damn right!" Tommy grinned and Joel rolled his eyes. "I'll catch you both at the Mess Hall. Just gonna meet Y/N at the greenhouses and we'll join you."

Joel began to stroll away but Maria's next words brought him to a standstill. "She went home earlier, Joel. She's not feeling well." Joel spun to face Maria, eyes wide and chest pounding from a sudden surge of adrenaline. "What's wrong with her? Is it serious? Is she okay?!" "Joel..." Maria raised and lowered her hand. "Breathe... she's alright," Maria insisted with a reassuring smile, "I checked on her a couple of hours ago. Probably just caught a bug."

Joel doesn't have time to hear any more. He needs to get to you now. The thought of you sick and alone is unbearable! His legs move before his brain can catch up, his stiff knees and aching back no longer of any importance. He bursts through the front door to find you balled up in a thick fleece blanket on the settee, fireplace crackling and glowing and a bucket on the floor below your head.

You've always been a light sleeper, and the fact you've remained sound asleep despite the crashing door indicates to Joel just how bad you must be. He kicks off his muddy boots and closes the door, quietly this time so not to disturb you. kneeling in front of you, Joel removes his gloves and gently places his calloused palm on your forehead, instantly feeling the reason for your flushed complexion.

Next he checks your pulse, relieved that it seems normal. He takes a moment to study your face. Even though you look peaceful he feels his heartstrings being tugged at the sight of you so weak and vulnerable. He's overcome with the desperate desire to scoop you up into his arms, to hold you close and make it all go away. If he could trade places with you, he would in a heartbeat.

At the flutter of your eyelids, Joel's pinched eyebrows give way to a tender smile. "Hey, darling," he whispers while smoothing his fingers over your cheek. "I was worried about you. How are you feeling?" You blink slowly and grumble, "Like crap." Joel's lips purse, accompanied by a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry, baby. What can I do to help?" You shake your head as if to say 'nothing'.

"Have you been drinking enough?" "I've been asleep most of the time," you answer sluggishly. Joel immediately heads for the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of water. "Here, let me help you up." He sets the glass down on the coffee table, and turning back to you, slides his arm under your shoulders to sit you up, despite your protests that it's hard to keep anything down. The most important thing for you now is to stay hydrated, and he's going to make damn sure you do.

"Hey, why aren't you in bed?" Joel asks softly but sternly as you take little sips. "Wanted to wait up to see you," you smile as you lay back down. Joel tuts and shakes his head. "Darling, you should be in bed, resting properly." "No...," you mutter. "I'm sleeping here tonight. I don't want to pass this onto you." 'Like hell you're sleeping here!" Joel scoffed, his eyebrows hitting his hairline.

"Joel-" "No!" Joel cut you off firmly. "Either you sleep in bed with me or I sleep on the settee with you. Either way, I'm not leaving you alone." "So stubborn," you chuckle, tapping his cheek. Now Joel knows you must really be out of sorts if you're not even going to fight him on this. "Bird's of a feather, sweetheart," Joel retorts with a teasing smirk. He carefully lifts you off the settee bridal style to carry you to bed.

The feeling of you snuggling into his chest begins to calm his racing heart. The warmth of your body, the rise and fall of your ribcage against his, the complete trust you gift him with, once again reminds Joel of his purpose; that he's here to care for and protect the people he loves. This is what he was made for, it's what he knows and it's what makes him, him. He tucks you into bed and pushes any loose strands of hair behind your ear.

With a soft lingering kiss to your forehead, Joel whispers, "Be back in a flash." Pulling himself away from you goes against every natural instinct he has, his entire body thrumming with the need to settle beside you and hold you in his arms. But he's dirty and sweaty from the trail and wants to be clean for you; besides he knows you'd give him hell if he got into bed in his state. A very quick shower will suffice.

After rushing through his shower, he goes downstairs to bring you the glass of water and the bowl - just in case. Climbing into bed next to you, Joel slips one arm under your side and the other around your chest, pulling you into him until your back is flush against his torso. He smiles as you sigh and wrap your arm around his as if you can't get close enough to him.

"Joel?" "Mmm?" "Have you eaten?" " Not yet..." he presses a kiss to the back of your head. "I'll make something later." "Make sure you do," you reply with a hint of finality in your voice. Joel's heart feels close to bursting with the love it harbours for you. What did he do to deserve you? Even when you're sick and exhausted, you're concern for his own welfare never wavers.

Joel tightens his hold on you, running his fingers along your forearm; a sensation, he has learned, which always helps you drop off. "Don't worry about, baby. You just focus on getting better, okay. I'm here for whatever you need, I'll look after you," he promises in earnest. "I love you, Joel." Another kiss to the back of your head. "I love you too, Y/N. Get some sleep now. I'm here."

Joel listens as your breathing evens out. Now that you're asleep, relaxed and safe in his embrace, he can feel the tension in his muscles dissipate. His mind starts to clear and now, and only now can he join you in your ease. As long as you're okay, he's okay.

@pedrospurplerain @picketniffler

Chapter One - Willow Creek Ranch

Summary: Harry Castillo arrives in Wyoming expecting a simple acquisition: buy Willow Creek Ranch and move on to his next deal. Instead, he meets the ranch’s owner - a fiercely independent woman who refuses to sell the land her family has spent generations protecting. Their first meeting is filled with tension, frustration, and an undeniable spark neither of them expected. For Harry, it’s the first deal he can’t easily close. For her, he’s the first man who makes her question everything she thought she knew

Wyoming stretched endlessly beyond the windshield of the rented SUV, a landscape so vast it made Manhattan feel like another planet. Miles of sagebrush rolled into green valleys, broken only by weathered fences and the occasional herd of cattle grazing beneath an impossibly wide sky.

Harry loosened his tie and glanced at the navigation screen.

Seven more miles.

Marcus Is Overprotective When You Go Into Labour

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of childbirth, blood, complications.

Word Count: 2, 027

"That's right, just breathe through it, My Lady," one of the midwives whispers into your ear as you are gripped by yet another contraction, fingers digging into her shoulders and forehead resting on her chest while you are practically doubled over. "This is impossible!" you grit through clenched teeth as you ride out the crippling wave. "It's what our bodies are made for, My Lady." You press your hands into your lower back as you begin to pace the room slowly. "Where is Marcus? He should be here by now."

"He'll be here any moment, I'm sure. Why don't we get you into bed?" the midwife suggests. "No. I'm not having this baby without him." "I'm afraid it's not up to you, My Lady. Baby will come when it's ready." You walk to the balcony doors, searching for any sign of your husband, tears building in frustration. "I can't do this without him," you cry before another contraction clenches your stomach. It's much stronger this time and it steals the breath from your lungs. From out of nowhere the sound of hoofs echo through the courtyard and if you hadn't already been crying, you would have now, in relief as you see Marcus jump down form his horse before the animal has even stopped.

Suddenly, your feet feel warm and wet and you look down to see a puddle surrounding you. "Oh god, my waters have broken!" "We have to move you to the bed now," another midwife says and they both take a hand each to walk you over. The door bursts open and Marcus rushes to over to you, breathless and wide eyed. The midwives let go of your hands and Marcus holds you steady by your upper arms. "Marcus!" you gasp, clutching the sleeves of his tunic. "My love, I came as fast as I could," he says through heavy breathes. He turns to the midwives. "How is she?" "The labour is progressing well, General," a midwife answers.

"Arrrgh...!" you wail, collapsing into Marcus' strong arms. "It's okay," he soothes. "Let's get you into bed." Marcus helps you onto the bed, laying you back against the propped up pillows. He leans down to kiss your forehead despite the sheen of sweat coating it. "Marcus, it hurts!" you grip his hand, squeezing tight. He holds your hand in both of his, wishing there was more he could do for you. He's never felt so useless. "I know..." his voice cracks at the sight of your distress. "But you're strong and you can do this, I believe in you." The midwives are now either side of you, one of them setting down towels on the bed.

The other turns to Marcus. "General, would you wait outside please? We must examine your wife-" "No! I want you to stay, Please!" you plead frantically, not letting go of Marcus' hand. "My Lady, we must examine you privately-" "I'm not leaving her!" Marcus interrupted, sharply. "But sir, it wouldn't be appropriate for you to remain for-" "I don't give a fuck for propriety! I'm not leaving this room! She needs me." The midwife nods her head in respect, "Yes, Sir." They do their checks and you're surprised when they tell you it's already time to start pushing.

Three hours later and you're still pushing. Wave after wave of pure agony rips through your abdomen as you bare down with all your might. Marcus has slid behind you, his legs on either side of you while he supports your weight against his body. One hand is taking the brunt of your pain while the other dabs at your forehead with a damp cloth. "I don't think I can do it anymore," you say, sluggishly, head lolling on Marcus' shoulder as the latest contraction eases. "Yes you can. You're more than capable, darling. You're doing so well," Marcus encourages you. The midwives have now been joined by a Medicus. Marcus had insisted on summoning a Medicus after two hours of slow progress. Better safe than sorry. Your back arches against Marcus and you scream. The contractions are now only a minute apart.

"Isn't there something you can do to help the baby along?!" Marcus asked the Medicus, trying but failing to keep his frustration hidden. "She's been at this for hours." "We're doing everything we can, Sir," the Medicus reassured. "Is it normal to take this long? She's exhausted." The Medicus sighed, "Everything's fine, General. It's perfectly normal for this stage to take a few hours or more." Marcus knew he was being overbearing, but he doesn't care. All that matters to him is the well being of you and his child. So used to being in control is he (wether it's on duty or at home) that having to rely on someone else leaves his nerves feeling frazzled.

He's always been a rock for you; always been able to make anything better and now for the first time, he's completely helpless. A sob so desperate breaks from you that Marcus can literally feel his heart crack in two. He brings one hand up to cup your cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb. "It's okay, my love, I'm here," his voice shudders as his eyes fill with tears. "You're strong. You've got the heart of a warrior, you know that? Just think, when it's all over you'll get to hold our precious child safe in your arms. Just a little longer, my sweet. You've got this." "Marcus, I ca- arrrgh!" Marcus' body instinctually tenses along with yours, as if the action could somehow impart some of his own strength into you.

"My Lady, you must stop pushing!" a midwife suddenly instructed. Marcus' head snapped to the midwife. "Why?" "What's wrong?!" you both said at the same time. A moment of silence passed as the midwife leaned in closer to examine you, but to Marcus it felt like an eternity. "Tell me what's wrong!" he commanded, his patience wearing thin. "The baby's breach. Everything will be alright, but on the next contraction you'll have to push harder, My Lady." Marcus shuffled behind you, tightening his hold on you. "You can do this-" "I can't do-!" you cry in desperation but it's cut off by another need to push. "That's it, that's it. It's coming. keep pushing..." the midwife cheers you on. "The body is out!" she smiles widely as you collapse back against Marcus.

He can feel the heat from your flushed cheeks against his neck, your breaths ragged against his skin. He turns to press a kiss to your forehead, stroking your sweat slicked hair from your face. "Okay, one last big push and your little one will be here," the midwife excitedly exclaims. Without another word you tuck your chin into your chest and give it everything you've got. "That's it, you're doing it. It's almost over," Marcus praises you as you give one last scream. Then the most beautiful and anticipated shriek fills the room as the new life makes itself known. "It's a girl! Congratulatios, My Lady, General." The midwife holds the baby up and Marcus takes in the sight of his impossibly tiny and beautiful daughter. Her scrunched up little face framed with dark little curls makes his heart skip a beat.

He watches in awe as she is placed on your chest, your sobs of pain now replaced with tears of joy as your hands gently stroke her body, whispering how much you love her already. Marcus cups the back of her head, feeling her delicate warmth. "You did it, my strong, fearless wife!" he coos into your ear, unashamedly crying along with you. He couldn't be more proud of you; more in love with you than he is in this moment. But this bubble of joy is suddenly burst when your arms and head drop at the same time, your body going limp. Marcus looks frantically between the Medicus and midwives. "What's happening? What's wrong with her?!" The Medicus quickly places a towel under your legs. "She's losing too much blood." One of the midwives takes the baby off your chest, telling Marcus to move while the others lay you down.

Marcus hovers near the Medicus as the man and the other midwife jump into action, his heart in his throat. "Help her! Please, you have to stop the blood!" He can see they're doing all they can but as he watches, horror-stricken he just can't stop himself. "Do something!" he yelled in despair. "General, you must wait outside," the midwife holding his daughter steps in front of him. "I'm not leaving her!" "You must!" she now speaks more forcefully. "I know you're worried but you have to let them do their job if they are to save her. You must give them space." Marcus looks at her, a panicked haze clouding his mind. "And your daughter needs you, now." Those words alone brought Marcus back to clarity.

He takes his baby into his arms, the midwife wrapping a blanket around her and despite his every molecule screaming at him to go to your side, he leaves the room. He paces the hallway outside the door, whispering comforting words to his daughter as her eyes, your eyes, stare up at him. "Your mothers' a fighter, just like you, my angel. She'll be fine... Please," he prays the last word, hoping the gods will take compassion on you. A little while later the door opens and Marcus freezes when the Medicus walks towards him saturated in blood. His breath catches in his lungs, sharp and painful. No, please no! "She's stable, Sir," the Medicus informs him. Marcus' shoulders sag, the tension flowing from his taut frame.

"She lost a lot of blood and will be very weak for a while. She'll need plenty of bed rest for at least the next several days." "Thank you!" Marcus breathes out in utter relief. "Thank you for saving her. Can I see her now?" "Of course." The Medicus leads Marcus back into the room, where the midwives are tucking the quilt over you. "We'll give you a minute," a midwife says and they leave the room, closing the door behind them. Marcus pulls up a Curule (chair) next the bed and sits down with the baby snug and asleep against his chest. He gently takes your hand in his, the contact causing your eyes to flutter open. You smile wearily, squeezing his hand.

"Hi, darling..." his brows knit together in a sympathetic frown. "You scared me so badly back there. I thought we were going to lose you." "I'm... sorry," you mumble, voice strained from hours of screaming. "No, you've nothing to apologise for," Marcus kissed the back of your hand. "You did an amazing job." Your gaze falls to the baby. "Is she okay?" Marcus smiles, looking down at her in adoration. "She's perfect, just like her mother." "I need to hold her. I need to feel her, please," you say, almost in tears. "Okay, don't move. I'll bring her to you." Marcus carefully lays her down on your chest and his heart feels ready to burst at the sight of you both. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment; the moment his life became whole.

"We're a family," he whispers, voice strained with trying to hold back a wave of emotions. You begin to cry again but this time Marcus isn't worried. The look of pure joy shining in your eyes is an image he'll always remember. "I love you," he whispers, voice filled with conviction. "I love you, too," you pause and look to your daughter then back to marcus with a beaming smile, "We love you." Marcus leans over to kiss both you and the baby. He truly is blessed by the gods. He has achieved so much in his years; wealth, respect, glory. But it means absolutely nothing compared to what he has now. Until today he didn't realise that this is what he was made for; to love, cherish and protect his family, and he'll do just that until his dying day.

Joel's Reaction When You're Sexually Harassed

Warnings: Swearing, violence, fluff.

Ahhhh I love me some protective Joel :)

Word Count: 1,498

Joel didn't think nights like this could ever exist again; Night's reminiscent of the 'Before Times', when you could unwind, leave your stress and worries behind for a little while and just enjoy the moment. The jovial laughter and carefree atmosphere that fills the community hall still amazes him.

For too long, people in this world just existed, trying to make it from one lousy day to the next, always having to look over their shoulder. But here in Jackson it's different. Life doesn't just go on, it thrives, breathes, grows stronger, a testament to the resilience and determination of the human spirit.

Even though some things here seemed frivolous at first, Joel had to admit the room did look beautiful, with fairy lights strung up and handmade decorations adorning the walls - all for the anniversary of Jacksons' founding- but it all pales in comparison at the sight before him now.

There you are, his "partner in crime" (as you so often playfully referred to the both of you as), looking effortlessly radiant as usual, long hair draping over both shoulders, the ends trailing down to the low cut top that accentuates your cleavage, (not that he's looking, nope, not looking at all), a pink tint to your cheeks and a smile that could bring Joel to his knees.

"Hey guys, mind if I sit?" you gesture to the empty seat at the table. "Please join us," Maria smiles warmly. Joel removes his coat from the back of the empty chair beside him and pulls it out, an invitation to make yourself comfortable. "Such a gentleman," you beam at Joel, gently nudging his shoulder with your own. Joel smiles, "Always am, darling."

He doesn't miss how your already pink cheeks flush even brighter at his response, but no, couldn't mean... nope she'll never see you that way, so don't even go there. He listens intently as Tommy and you discuss your patrols with Joel, blushing slightly as you praise him for his capability and competence beyond the walls, even going as far as to calling him a good teacher.

"Well, you're a quick learner. Not everyone catches on as fast as you." Joel has to fight with the small smile threatening to break into a full on grin at his pride in you. Tommy raises his eyebrows in amusement as he watches the easy back and fourth between you two. The night goes on and Joel wishes it would never end.

Just sitting here with you, listening to the sweet lilt of your voice, watching the way your face lights up in genuine laughter brings a warmth to Joel's already thawing heart. He watches you leave as you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. He knows what's coming just from the smug looks his brother and sister-in law are giving him.

"Don't...," Joel rolls his eyes, "It's not like that at all." "Mmhmm...," Tommy hums, smirking into his glass. Joel huffs, returning his attention to his drink. A few minutes later he sees you making your way across the room, weaving in and out of dancing couples, when you are suddenly blocked from view by a large back and broad shoulders.

Joel is instantly on his feet, defence mode triggered in his brain, suspiciously eyeing this seemingly insistent man. The look on your face tells him everything he needs to know; You're uncomfortable and looking for a way out. His feet move as if they are their own entity, taking large strides across the floor, fists balled up and jaw clenched.

He can't make out what you're saying but it's obvious you are refusing this mans' advances. As you try to push past, the man grabs your wrist, making you wince in pain. Joe's eyes widen in shock. This fucker actually had the audacity to lay his hands on you. Pure, unbridled rage burst through Joel's veins, burning him from the inside out, his objective now crystal clear.

In the next moment, Joel had spun the asshole around, connecting his fist to his jaw, relishing the satisfying crack that resulted. "Don't ever put your fucking hands on her again!" Joel roared while pulling you behind him, shielding you with his large frame. He could feel you trembling as you placed a hand on his back, which only angered him more. How dare this entitled piece of shit treat you that way. You deserve to feel safe in your own community!

"What the fuck, man!" fumed the stranger as he picked himself up off the floor, rubbing his injured jaw. The room suddenly became void of voices, the jukebox being the only continuous sound for a moment, as all eyes shifted to the unfolding scene. The man's gaze shifts from Joel to you. "Seriously?!" he narrow's his eyes at you, anger painting his face red. "You'd rather fuck this old timer than me!"

"Back. The. Fuck. Off... Now!" Joel growled lowly. The guy looks back to Joel. "You know what...," he scoffs, "You're fucking welcome to it! God knows where that whore has be-" Crack!! He falls onto the table, then onto the floor with a sickening thud as Joel rains down, blow after blow. '"Joel! Joel stop!" He can hear you, but he can't stop, not after the vile comments aimed at you.

"Joel, please!" Only upon feeling your hand on his arm did Joel stop, turning to face you, hoping his actions haven't frightened you. But instead of fear or disgust all he sees is concern in your eyes. He turns back to face the man when he hears him groaning while being picked up and escorted out by a few other men.

Tommy appears at Joel's side, quietly reminding him that there are better ways to deal with people like that, - even if his look is silently conveying an 'I would have done the same thing' message -, then he makes sure you are okay before trying to ease the tension in the air by encouraging everyone to return to their business.

"Joel...," you whisper while gently taking hold of his bloodied hand, examining the gashes and forming bruises. "Let's go. We need to take care of this." Joel nods at you, allowing you to lead him outside.

Joel sits at your kitchen table, watching studiously as you sit in front of him, rummage through your first aid box. The deep concentration etched onto your face as you carefully dab at his split knuckles, stirs up a multitude of feelings in Joel's gut; Relief that you're okay and not afraid of what you saw, appreciation at how attentive you are and a fierce need to protect you from any more harm in future.

"I think it's broken," you say, sadly. "Yeah, probably just a hairline. It'll be okay," he shrugs it off, trying to reassure you. You sigh and shake your head. "You shouldn't have done that, Joel." Joel's brows knit together in confusion. "I shouldn't have helped you?" "I mean, I appreciate you defending me, I really do...," your eyes meet his and he can feel the sincerity of your words. You return your focus to Joel"s hand. "But he's not worth breaking your hand over."

It kills Joel that you sound guilty, as if you're blaming yourself for what happened, when it was all the fault of that arrogant prick. "No, he's not...," Joel replied flatly, then gently lifts your chin with his other hand to look softly into your eyes, "But you are." Joel watches as your frown softens into a heartfelt smile, your eyes glistening with un-shed tears.

His eyes momentarily drop to your lips, looking so soft and plump, he wonders if they'd feel as soft as they look. He doesn't have to wonder for long. In the blink of an eye his collar is in your grasp, your lips crashing onto his, and oh, they are soft, just like he knew they would be. Is this really happening?! Joel skims his tongue along your bottom lip and immediately you open, welcoming his tongue as it claims your mouth.

His hands settle on your waist, gently hoisting you up off of your chair and onto his lap. Joel feels your pert tits press against his chest and his cock press against his jeans. He moans into your mouth, running his good hand up your back to cup the back of your head. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss, tounges and teeth battling it out in a game dominance and passion.

When you both finally part, panting for breath, Joel rests his forehead against yours and murmurs, " You don't know how long I've wanted to do that, baby." "You don't know how long I've wanted you to do that," you coo sweetly. Joel chuckles and kisses the tip of your nose. "I'll do that for however long you'll have me." Whatever is happening between you both, Joel knows this is the start of something amazing.

Din When You're Injured

Warnings: injury, mention of blood.

Oh how we love a protective and attentive man, and Din Djarin is the perfect example :)

Word Count: 1,278

Din shifts nervously, head searching in every direction. Something's wrong. He can feel it in his bones, in the pit of his stomach. "She should have been here by now," he mumbles nervously to Grogu, while placing a hand gently on his tiny head. Grogu wriggles in the satchel at Din's side, a little wimper of concern coming from him. This was only supposed to be a quick supply run on Tatooine so where the hell were you? And why, as the minutes pass, does Din's chest feel like it's about to cave in on itself?

When contact via com link fails, he decides enough is enough. He's waited too long as it is. "Don't worry, pal," Din said, softly, "We'll go find her." The market is still quite busy as Din and Grogu make their way through the crowded streets. Ten minutes of searching has turned into twenty, and still, no sign of you. Apprehension swirls in Din's gut, anxiety conjuring up the worst things imaginable in his head.

'What if she's hurt? What if shes scared? What if she's screaming for me right now?' He can't lose you, can't let anything happen to you! Why the hell did he let you go off alone? His heart beats wildly behind his ribs, panic and frustration taking root the longer you are missing. After questioning a few of the vendors, a woman informs Din that someone fitting your description had come to her stall earlier, pointing in the direction you'd left.

With a nod of thanks, Din immediately makes his way to the outskirts of the market. It's getting late now, the side street he's searching eerily empty and still. The silence is broken by a wailing Grogu, causing Din to look down at his side. Grogu's large brown eyes stare worriedly while pointing ahead. Din's stomach sinks when he sees it; Your satchel. Your unmistakable sage green canvas bag, with a picture of a loth cat on it, abandoned with it's contents strewn across the dusty ground.

With shaking hands Din picks up the bag and calls your name, over and over. The silence is deafening. He just needs to hear your voice, to know you're okay. 'Please, please answer me, Cyar'ika!' The world is suddenly too much, too suffocating, oppressive darkness closing in around the edges of Din's periphery. To lose you would be to lose the very best part of himself. His breaths begin to come shallow and quick, causing his head to swim.

Squeezing his hands into fists, he takes slow, deep breaths, trying his best to maintain some composure. He'll be no good to you if he falls apart now. Engaging the sensors in his helmet, Din urgently scans the ground. Dank Ferrick, there are too many footprints to discern. But then, an area of kicked up dirt at the entrance of a nearby alley catches his attention. Upon inspection, it's obvious a scuffle had taken place here very recently.

In true hunter mode, Din follows the telltale signs of dragging, all the way to a dead end, to be greeted by a sight that almost stopped his heart. There you are, face down and unmoving! Din's legs move of their own accord, carrying him to you by pure instinct and adrenaline alone. He drops to his knees beside your prone body, your name leaving his lips like a prayer, a prayer he's desperate for you to answer. Gently cupping your shoulders, he rolls you over onto your back.

Din chokes on a breath at the sight of you. His vision now clouding over in a sweeping tide of red, rage boils his blood to the point where he feels like he's going to explode. Your face is almost unrecognisable. Two black and swollen eyes, a clearly broken nose -still trickling blood - a split lip and a nasty gash across your forehead is the last thing he would have ever expected to see on you. "Cyar'ika?..." his voice trembles while trying to rouse you. "Can you open your eyes? Come on, sweet girl, I need you to open your eyes for me!"

Grogu reaches out for you, whimpering. Din can see he's distressed but what can he do? He could say you're okay, he could tell him not to worry, but how can he try to comfort him when he, himself, is cracking at the seams? Din cautiously scoops your unconscious body into his lap, handling you as if you were made of fine china. With your head lolled back, he can now clearly see big purple bruises littering your slender neck, bruises in the shape of fingers.

His whole being is now shaking with outrage, teeth almost cracking from the pressure of his clenched jaw. Who the fuck did this to you?! Why would someone do this to you?!.... And where can he find those fuckers?! A small groan slips from you, and Din released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, shoulders slumping, slightly in relief. You're alive. Thank the maker you're alive!

But that relief is snuffed out when you weakly cry out and clutch your side. Din removes your trembling hand and gently tugs up your top. How the kriffing hell did he miss this?! He'd been so preoccupied with trying to wake you, that he'd missed the stab wound, which is still oozing blood. "Dank Ferrick!" Din curses under his breath while inspecting the wound. To his relief, it doesn't look too deep. Clutching your limp form to his chest, he quickly rises, being careful of your state, and also trying not to jostle Grogu too much, who's sad eyes have not not left you.

Back at the Razor Crest, Din is silently seething. He cleaned and applied bacta patches to all lesions and stitched up the knife wound. A part of him is thankful that you'd lost consciousness along the way. The last thing he would want is for you to have to go through any more agony. Grogu has become your shadow, refusing to leave your side and snuggling up to you in the bunk. Now that the adrenaline has vacated Din's system, and you are home safe with him, he feels like he can breathe again.

He could have lost you today. It's unthinkable, the very notion that you could have been ripped from his life in the blink of an eye. How could he exist in a galaxy where you don't? He'd failed you toady. He should have been there to protect you. He'll never forgive himself! Looking at your battered and bruised face, Din is overwhelmed with a primal and desperate need to shield you from succumbing to harm ever again.

It brings tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat, seeing the brutal devastation left all over you, painting your body with all the horrors this cursed galaxy hides around every corner. This will never happen again. He'll make damn sure of it! He will destroy every bastard foolish enough to even try and lay a finger on you or Grogu ever again, starting with the pieces of Bantha fodder who attacked you. But that will come later. The main priority now is you. Din sits beside you on the bed, holding your hand and smoothing his thumb gently over your knuckles.

His heart skips a beat as your eyelashes flutter open, your heavy and exhausted gaze meeting his behind his helmet. His taut shoulders instantly relax and a warm wave of reassurance fills his aching heart with the smile you give him. You're okay, you're home and you're safe and he'll never let anyone hurt his Cyare again!

Warnings: Angst, pining.

Word Count: 847

Ex boyfriend Joel who broke your heart in the most cruel way, by weaponising your own insecurities and using them against you as a last resort in his efforts to push you away. Who, even though he felt like the lowest piece of shit at the time, kept firm to the belief that this was for the best; you didn't need him and all his demons dragging you down with him. Who almost crumbled right in front of you when he saw the damage his words had done. Who had to summon all of his inner strength to not take you in his arms and tell you he didn't mean any of it as your shocked expression turned into abject devastation, tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes red and pleading and your voice trembling through heaving breaths. Who walked out of your house without so much as a backward glance, knowing if he turned around now that would be the end of him.

Ex boyfriend Joel who barley slept the night through over the next few months, haunted by the raw look of heartbreak and disbelief plain as day on your face every time he closed his eyes. Who felt and saw the physical toll of guilt on his body; dark under eye circles, headaches, lethargy, loss of appitite, everything he believes he deserves. Who always seems to be able to sense when you are nearby. Who's mind is a jumbled mess of regret, desire, longing and loneliness as he observes you from a distance. Who offers a smile and a nod in your direction when you pass by each other. Who feels his heart clench when the smile you respond with is clearly forced; nothing like the beguiling smile he'd grown to love so much. Who feels adrift and lost without you. Who has to remind himself - when the yearning and pining for you becomes so unbearable, all he wants is to give in to his selfishness and tell you he still loves you - that he's doing this for you, for the life and future that could be possible without him in your way.

Ex boyfriend Joel who always asks Maria how you're doing every time he sees her. Who's keen perception and ability to detect a white lie is sometimes both a blessing and a curse; he knows that she's trying to help you save face but in doing so she's actually confirming his suspicions that you're still not in a good place and it's all because of him. Who doesn't know how to live with the hurt he's caused and hates himself for it. Who's thoughts are constantly revolving around you; what is she doing? Is she looking after herself? Does she miss me? Who takes to sitting on his porch late at night when the absence of your voice, your laugh, your presence becomes overwhelming, strumming his guitar to your favourite tunes; It's the only way he can feel some semblance of a connection to you.

Ex boyfriend Joel who's heart plummets and gut settles with dread when he sees you spending time with one of the patrol men who always had a liking for you. Who's initial instinct is to slam him into the nearest wall and warn him to back off but he knows he has no right anymore. Who hates having to see another man's hand at the small of your back, opening doors for you and whispering things in your ear. Who knows this jealousy is irrational and stupid; after all, the reason he let you go was so you could find someone your own age willing to give you the things you've always wanted, a husband, children, a normal family life.

Ex boyfriend Joel who notices the smiles you give this new guy never seem to reach your eyes. Who sometimes sees the cheery look on your face drop almost instantly when the guy turns away, almost as if you're trying to force yourself to feel something that isn't there. Who sometimes catches you looking at him across the food hall or the bar with the same longing he feels for you. Who's beginning to doubt wether or not he's actually done the right thing. If you're not happy, then what was this all for? Who lately, has been consumed with thoughts of you with his surname, of your belly growing round with a child you've both created; the thoughts bringing a warmth and connectedness to his wretched soul.

Ex boyfriend Joel who after much reflection and contemplation has realised that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life. Who - when he sees you next - will beg for your forgiveness over his harsh words that weren't even true in the first place, and will do whatever it takes to prove to you that he can and will be the man who can give you what you want, what you need. Who is determined, even if it takes the rest of his days, to win you back. And when he does, he'll never lose you again.

Summary: A baby is the last thing you and Pedro expected but life has a way of surprising you for the better...

💔 = Angst 💘 = Fluff

Oh Baby

You and Pedro have a happy and comfortable relationship. His career is booming and you have a demanding job, so add an unexpected pregnancy and oh shit!

Oh Mama A continuation.

As the birth draws closer you think back to all the times Pedro has been there for you and how grateful you are for him.

Oh Daddy A conclusion.