#pixwriting

You panted, chest rising and falling as you leaned back against his solid, broad body, head lolling onto his shoulder. He shifted so that your legs spread wider over his knees as he reached down once again to your aching cunt, beginning with only the slightest touch.

It's devastating.

A tiny circling movement, slow but with enough pressure to stoke the thrumming, gentle arousal that you felt into something more wanting and you whined despite yourself.

You can feel Ezra's exhale against the side of your neck and can tell of the slight amusement he feels at your desperation, even if you can't see his expression properly in this position.

This had been going on since early morning, pulled out of the cozy bubble of sleep from the wind hitting up against the pod - your temporary home on this unpopulated rock.

As you had predicted in the preceding days, a storm was raging outside and wasn't likely to let up for at least one cycle, if not more. You were grounded. Though you'd been working your asses off for several weeks, enough to be ahead of schedule.

The long working days usually melted into exhausted sleep, but the lack of recreation time started to cause tension a month into your dig.

Becoming distracted by Ezra's presence, watching him drink, parched in the sun whilst prospecting and feeling unable to do anything about it - not wanting to delay any further than you had to.

Ezra's lingering touches that should be innocent, if it weren't for the heated, longing look in his dark eyes, the promise of 'later' unspoken but clearly communicated to you.

Ever the early bird - likely purely by habit rather than anything else, you theorised, as he was usually a little quieter and grumpy in the mornings - Ezra was awake before you. And he wasted no time in starting. Dragging out the foreplay between you both.

It was something you both revelled in, the pleasure of it. Of course, when your lives are busy there are the occasional rough, frantic quickies, but like Ezra it always leaves you slightly dissatisfied, craving for more…

Now your focus wandered, your increased pants slowing Ezra's fingers against your slick cunt, until his hand stopped completely, cupping your mound. You hadn't even reached the edge this time and you wiggled a little in his lap, earning a small groan from him as the curve of your ass rubbed up against his clothed erection. "Please, Ezra!"

"Already?" He tsked. "This was your idea, little dove."

You could've protested- he was the one who had woken you up fully by eating you out and not letting you cum, after all. But you had definitely raised the stakes of his plans.

One of the things you had delighted about when you first started to be intimate with Ezra, was that you had similar minds when it came to sex and pleasure. Wanting to take your time, wanting to see exactly how far you could go - if that's something you wanted out of it.

It wasn't a pushing of boundaries, like so many, less worthy people have tried to do in the past, merely an exploration into how much you could both take.

And so, you had thrown the gauntlet down. Claiming you could handle being edged and teased, that you could likely last longer than him.

"Is that so?"

"I know myself." You had replied, smiling coyly in return to his own salacious, challenging smirk.

It had been hours since then, surely? Though you couldn't be sure, the shutters tightly closed on the pod's viewing ports.

Looking up at him you saw his blown pupils, little trace of the warmer brown irises left as he sucked his wet fingers, humming at the taste.

He leant down to kiss you, it was sloppy given the awkward angle, even with his fingers lifting and holding your chin in place. But it brought you back to the present.

Back to his spit-slick hand snaking down to circle your entrance, a small warning before pushing one of his fingers into your core making you cry out. His other hand teased you, circling your nipples, grasping at your breasts underneath your shirt in turn as he worked you open to fit another thick finger.

Unable to stay still any longer you moaned, canting your hips into his hand, palm coming to rest against your clit.

"I know, I know." He cooed. "You like my fingers don't you, dove?"

"Yes! So good - feels so good." You could feel every nerve alight at his fingertips as they hit that spot within you in a steady motion. "Please, ah, don't stop!"

In an attempt to coax him on, you ground down against him in earnest.

A bit-off groan came from behind you, Ezra bringing an arm over your chest, pinning you in place against him though you struggled in his grip.

"Ez, you're n-not playing fair."

"No? I guess I am not. But you can tap out, you know what to say." You did know, Ezra would play fair - give you the release you craved if you asked for it, or stop altogether and you could snuggle up together whilst the storm ran its course, instead. But you shook your head and he tightened his hold on you.

"You underestimated me, darlin', you may have better patience than me when it comes to harvesting… but I also know you are so good at keeping your smart, stubborn little brain of yours focused on a task, too…" he said, voice rumbling through you, moving at the perfect pace for you to come undone, feeling the heat rise along your skin. "... I know how much you can get lost in this, caught up in the sensations you feel… that you'll forget this was a competition." His teeth grazed the side of your neck and you gasped, hand coming to grip onto his arm, as something to anchor yourself to.

"Baby, I'm close!"

Ezra moved and you slid off of his lap and onto the floor. Tears sprung to your eyes as you tried not to fall over the edge which had already started to crumble, clenching around nothing as your body shook.

"Okay?" His warm palm was at your back.  

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. Ezra reached out to smooth a hand over your forehead, damp with perspiration.

"You're doing so well, stardust." He said, his low cadence making you melt, tears falling as you screwed your eyes shut to the tender praise.  

"Just a little bit more. Then I'll make sure you are fully satiated and then some."

Turning around you saw him stand to remove his pants and you rushed to do the same with your top. He looked magnificent, naked before you. Resting his weight on one hip, the soft swell of his stomach, leg muscles flexing, and…

…From your kneeled position you were at the perfect height for your face to be level with his hips, cock flushed, hard and glistening.  

Looking up at his face you realised he had been watching your unabashed ogling of him, evidently preening under the attention.

You swallowed. "Can I?"

He hummed low in his throat, lowering himself down to your level. "Another day, I could be tempted into indulging in that desire, sweet thing… but right now I want you facing me and sitting on my lap."

Shuffling over to the bed and rearranging yourselves, both of you moaned as you eased down onto his cock. All the teasing had made the stretch easier, but you still rolled your hips a little to adjust.

(And to tease him back, just a little…)

He cursed; voice thin. “Dove, you have to stay still.”

With a sigh you relaxed back into his arms, praying to Kevva that Ezra wouldn't make you wait too long…

Whilst he didn’t end up taking fishing as his official ‘talent’, Ezra went out every week or so when the weather was fine down to the lake behind his home, gear in tow. It was a small lake in a deciduous little valley, in which the Victor's village sat. A long, looping path through the surrounding woods connected the lake behind his home to the other gardens and around to the main gate: the only entrance to the village.

 He wondered, not for the first time, whether the fish were natural here. Their iridescent scales, which sparkled in the cold sunlight, could be created by the beauty of nature. Though, their hardiness through the seasons and large bodies seemed as out of place as the fine sand, found underneath the weathered pebbles on the oval-shaped shores of the lake itself.

 He didn't need to fish but swinging the line out into the water and reeling it in was good practice for his arm coordination. If he caught anything, he threw it back most days.

Though, today his pantry was looking a little bare, aside from the Katniss roots he’d pulled up the day before. He hadn’t been to the main square in a while.

 All the more reason to go out to cast his line.

 The sun, which had been high in the sky when he began, started to dip when he heard the rustling within the sparse forest brush.

 Before he knew it, he saw the flash of something metal fly towards him, heard the sickening impact of something on the ground.

 A body.

 He saw the flash of a body, blood pouring from the neck, a familiar flash of recognition in their face. No, it couldn’t be!

 Heart racing, he stood bolt upright, reflexively taking out the small knife he carried with him.

 “Come out.” His eyes darted around the treeline. “There’s no use in hiding.”  

 Ezra closed his fingers round his knife when he heard a click.

 A crossbow.

 A rare sight anywhere, even if people in the district did carry weapons - something illegal in the eyes of the Capitol – most were scared enough of using anything that weapon-like, opting for their trade tools should they need to use violence.

 For a slight creature, the girl held the heavy weapon with some expertise. "Don't."

 He dropped his knife, raising his arms up in surrender.  

 “You’re out a long way from home.” He glanced back down at what had been struck - a bird. An arrow sticking out of its feathers. Not a body…

 “Grooslings are hard to come by.” Was the short reply. They were certainly valuable, if you didn’t get caught for poaching.

 “I suppose if you’re this desperate, you must be from the bench?” The girl shifted her stance. Perturbed. Anxious. “Long time since, but I grew up there. What’s your name? I’m guessin’ I don’t have to give any introduction of m-”

 “-I know who you are… I-I'm not supposed to talk to you.”

 "I don't know what you've heard, girl, but whatever it is, has likely been extorted from the truth and therefore not in my favour."

 She shook her head. "No, you stole from my father and- I'm not saying any more. Not supposed to."

 The pieces started to fall together, could it be Lin's child here before him? The blonde hair and the nose could be the same but… he wasn't sure…

 Anger and disbelief rose up in his chest, what was Damon doing? Letting his daughter - a young girl - go so far in the woods alone, for by her skittish behaviour she must be alone.

 And certainly, he hadn't gotten over this childish grudge, not that he'd expected that, but it stung, nevertheless.

 "Please tell me your name." There was no answer. The crossbow didn't move. The girl kept her lips sealed as if speaking to him alone in the woods would break some sort of promise.

 Perhaps it would.

 If she was his relation, he thought, she's definitely inherited the family stubbornness.

  "Look, you can take your spoils, I have no reason or inclination to involve peacekeepers in my life. None of my business what others do in these woods. Here." He dropped his arm slowly and stooped to pick up some of the fish.

 "Have some of my catch - a peace offering, if you like, I used to know your parents, so – you’re welcome to come back here, should you need help with anything."

 But the crossbow didn't move, although her eyes flitted down to the wrapped fish often in silent deliberation. She took a step back from his extended hand.

 "Little bird," the words were soft, almost a whisper, "take it. It was otherwise being thrown back in, I have no need of it."

 "Bird?" She said with a frown.

 "Well I have to call you something." He huffed, throwing the offer gently onto the ground between them.

 "Your call."

 He hesitated to look at her once more, watching as she lowered the bow, shuffling from foot to foot, before packing up his gear. He heard rather than saw her quickly snatch up all the spoils and retreat.

 By the time he had finished she had already reached the wall surrounding the village, giving back a final glance before hopping over it.  

  That's what struck him now, when he looked at the girl walking towards the justice building. Her stride was the same steady, quick pace. The same limp blonde hair tucked behind the ears.

 Cee. So that was her name.

 Cee Riley’s complex, grim expression was plastered on the screens.

 The two years that had passed since their meeting in the woods had clearly not been kind to her. Her clothes - clearly relics of her mother’s - hung off of her thin frame, cheeks sallow, arms bruised. His stomach twisted into knots.

 He could hear every rustle, every chirp of the crickets hiding in the dry brush around the square, the blood pulsing in his own ears. His mouth was as dry as the time it had been himself looking up to the stage.

 She reached it now, stumbling slightly, her long skirt catching on the step.

 Ezra tried to catch District seven's escort's eye. Johanna caught him faster. The Capitol man straightened up quickly and graciously offered a hand to the 'young lady', delicately plucking the offensive thread free. He could see Joanna roll her eyes again and gave her a conspiratorial glance. This wasn't the first time they've had to do the capitol representatives jobs for them.

 "Her. I want her."

 There was no explanation, no turning of his head or a need to raise his voice above a whisper.

 Johanna merely shrugged. "Makes no difference to me."

 The train wasn't much of an improvement on the woods.

 At first, he had given Cee her space, easily recognising that the circumstances are a lot to take in, seeing her eyes shining with unshed tears at dinner. Best that she get all the crying done now, privately, before any other cameras or tributes could see her and think her weak.

 He'd tried the next morning to broker the subject of his mentorship, strategies and so forth, but when he opened his mouth she turned away, eventually getting up from the table and taking her plates to her room.

 He heaved a big sigh.

 The male tribute, a malnourished boy of 15, was already smart enough to ask to train and strategize separately from his other district contender. He had as good a chance at winning, if he gained some weight in the upcoming weeks and had some skills behind him, as any other non-career.

 So, he decided to go to her. He picked up pastries, fruit and crystal glasses of fresh orange juice from the dining car, ladling steaming hot chocolate into a couple of bowls for good measure, using his steady prosthetic to prop up the laden tray.

 To his relief she opened the door when he knocked, from the dark bags under her eyes and weary look she hadn't gotten any rest. Stepping in he could evidently see the mess smeared on the walls, one plate smashed to bits but piled neatly onto one of the bedside tables. He made a mental note to have a kind word with one of the attendants later.

"So, I didn't know if you'd be hungry or thirsty, but if you need more things to smash, too, go ahead." He indicated to the tray which he set down onto the bed.

 To his surprise she does sit to eat, picking at one of the pastries. He rambles on at her, trying to say things or ask questions that could draw her out, but she still remains a little withdrawn.

 She picks up one of the bowls and hesitates.

 Ezra picks up the other and sips from it, slowly. “Use two hands if you can. I only have the use of one.”

 She does, taking big gulps of the hot chocolate. A little colour returning to her face. “You don’t use the other arm for a lot, do you?”

 “No.”

 “My mother… she was a healer, my father said that people who lost limbs in the mill used to come to her.”

 “That’s right. I used to know her.”

 “She helped you.” It wasn’t a question, though he got the sense that perhaps she hadn’t known about it before.

 “Yes. Relied on her a lot, when I came back home.”  

 Cee curled into herself, drawing her legs up to her stomach, head resting on her knees. “I’m not going to see home again.”

 “And why’s that?”

 Cee glanced at him and if he hadn’t been pulled into the same depths of darkness, he would have flinched at the intensity in her eyes. “The odds aren’t in my favour.”

 “Now that simply isn’t true! Careers may, certainly, get an advantage, but surely us other district victors are testament to the fact that the odds aren’t always in their favour.” But Cee just held onto her legs tighter. “C’mon, Cee, you’re sharp you’ve got more chance of winning than those blockheads in one or two… what about Damon, what did he say to you about the games, before you left?”

 “He didn’t come to see me.”

 It took everything in him to not let his blood boil over. That’s not what she needed right now. He knew very well what type of visits she had likely received, if she had any. The one many of his district’s tributes, the impoverished, starving kids, the ones picked for feeding themselves and their family with tesserae, received – a last goodbye.

 Even her own father thought of her as good as dead the moment she had been reaped. No doubt getting high as a kite to forget about it all. Ezra, not for the first time, felt the pangs of his brother’s absence at the association and he wished he could curse them both…

 But… right now, she needed someone to be there for her, to listen, letting in the rage would do nothing but scare her off. He thought to what his partner would say to him in such a moment, allowing himself the thrill of that bittersweet anticipation of their reunion, mere hours away, to pass over him.

 “Listen - I’m not a good man, birdie, I fought for my life and I survived – and I’m sure you can gather, that I’m not just talking about the games here-”

 Cee was caught on his words, sitting up to look at him with wide eyes.

 “-It was self-preservation plain and simple, but that has to count for something…”

“You’re a survivor, I’ve seen it first-hand, you’re smart and brave, birdie – don’t deny it!” He said when he saw her open her mouth to say something.

 No-one else would have…” He paused, he had to be careful with what to say, even now, on the off chance anyone could be listening, “…gone into that part of the forest, bold as brass to do what you’ve done. The thing about careers? They rely on strength, brute force – they often underestimate the tributes that are evasive and have gone through hunger before. And, on top of that, you’re quick, you know your way round weapons, doubt I have to ask, but you know how to use an axe by now, right?” Cee nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

 “...now, you’ve got options. Think about your strategy, which way you want to go - I can help you with that. I can help get you sponsors, but you’ll need to put a little trust in me and be honest. Be honest with me and what you want from this. If you don’t engage with the audience, there will be no advantage for me to give you. So, if you hide away now, that will essentially be giving up. And, giving up is harder than it looks, birdie, when you’ve survived for so long - I won’t be able to keep you alive if you go down that path. We’ve only got a short time to come up with our plan, so I need you to listen carefully to what I have to say. We clear?”

 “Clear.”

Whilst you knew the mandalorian more closely than anyone else, it didn’t take a genius to know that he was heartbroken, not over his creed so much as by leaving his foundling. At that point you had been friends (though, wishing to be regarded more than that as the three of you had travelled across the galaxy together for so long), since Din had taken you in and saved you from the mundanity of your old job.

Now in Grogu’s absence, your burgeoning relationship with Din had time to flourish, once you had both realised that neither of you wanted another separation, it had only brought you together more strongly. The sadness of his absence was still there, though, bringing tears up into your eyes and you had resolved to make up for it in any small way, as Din had landed you on this remote jungle moon. He had come back with wildflowers for you once, after a long hunt, and you had gotten the idea to reciprocate, since there must be flowers among all this green, right?

And now you are here. Swinging by a foot, top folding over your waist. You had reached for a brilliant looking plant when you had stumbled over a root, rolling down the steep decline in the path you had seen Din descend earlier that day. Your body being -luckily- caught by the loops of vines prevented you from hitting the matted jungle floor. Your hands being ready to break your fall, had merely brushed the strange, bright flowering plants beneath causing their flowery heads to burst with spores. You sighed, hoping whatever it was, it didn’t stain.

Just as you awkwardly raised up your arms to your waist to feel for the vibroblade attached to your belt and release yourself, you heard familiar footsteps approach and flopped back down again with a groan.

You heard the soft call of your name, a question in the tone.

Glancing over from your upside-down vantage point you saw the shining armour of your mandalorian, a hand on his cocked hip as he looked down at you. “I see staying on the ship went well.”

“I never said I would stay on the ship.” You replied tactfully, feeling the blood rushing to your hands and head as you struggled to lean up once more.

“Need any help with that?”

“I just need my-”

“Oh, this?” Said Mando, brandishing your weapon, which had been discarded on the ground near his boot.

“Yes, you’ve had your fun!” He chuckled. “Get me down – please?”

“Since you ask so nicely-” Cutting carefully and with quick reflexes he was able to catch you, setting you on your feet within mere seconds. Dusting yourself of the forest debris, although some of the pollen seemed to be sticking to you. Time to see if your hired ship’s ‘fresher was any good, you supposed.

“I wanted to collect some flowers for you and lost my footing.” You pouted as you picked up the datapad that had crushed the bunch of flowers that you’d been collecting.

His hand squeezed your shoulder thumb rubbing over the fabric there. “Sweet girl” was all he said, the inflection giving you butterflies. You smiled inwardly as you realised you might’ve reduced him to speechlessness (once again). It was a sort-of running ‘game’ for you both, though Din constantly debated on the rules and what ‘counted’. (You still asserted you were in the lead.)

But then, Din uttered your name. “-I appreciate it, but this jungle is said to be dangerous, we don’t know what’s out here…” Nodding as you walked side by side, it was a minute or two before he spoke again.

“…Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah – why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re covered in all this plant, uh, stuff, and your heat signature is higher.”

“Am I?” Looking down, though, you saw the pollen, so fine that it wouldn’t come off, which in the light had a dazzling shimmer to it. You waved Din’s concern off. “It’s just hot in this place, tin can – I’m sure it's nothing.”

Din shook his head, halting you on your way back to the ship by stepping in front of you. “No, mesh’la. It’s high – you’re burning up.”

As he said it, pressing a gloved hand to your forehead you took notice of the sweat rolling down your back and arms and frowned. You didn’t feel too different than before.

“Do you think it could be a - an allergy? To the flowers, or something?” You wondered out loud, unsure of what he was anxious about.

“I… I just think I might have seen something like this before-” He said hesitatingly, already searching on your datapad for something. “-but I’m not sure…”

“Stars above, Din! Just tell me what you think it is!”

“It’s a sex drug.” Here he paused and you gulped. You supposed a bounty hunter lead you to knowing a lot about the criminal underground and its trades; but your thoughts lead down dirtier paths, and you felt the almost irrepressible urge to ask him whether he had ever taken it himself…

Din kept pressing on the datapad, pulling up more information. “It’s a plant substance, rare, but it causes the user to become… aroused in very small doses… I-I don’t know what the pollen –in its pure form- might do.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You stated simply. “…T-then, we should get back to the ship. Quickly.”

__

Once you returned Din rushed you into the small ‘fresher on the ship, turning the lever for the water on as soon as you stepped into the space. You were sure it was probably a comical sight to see you there dripping, fully clothed. Feeling a little self-conscious at the situation, you made a remark about looking like a drowned womp rat, to which there was no response. Instead, the mandalorian helped you to strip off your now damp clothes, the less-than-tepid water giving faint relief to your hot, feverish skin.

“Washing the stuff off should help right?” He said, the stressed rasp of his voice making you moan, the sound half escaping through your lips as you tried to stifle it.

“It feels a bit too late for that, Din.”

The heat underneath your skin made you feel awful. You swayed under the stream of water and he steadied you with a grip of his hand, which was bare and warm against your upper arm, your eyes dragged upwards and you could see even more skin, the rolled-up sleeve of his flight suit, the pauldron-less shoulder – when had he done that? You hadn’t heard him take it off, had you?

Your mind felt like it was falling through a jar of honey, in a way not too dissimilar to the feeling of being tipsy; still aware of what was happening though with a pleasant buzz of pleasure, which softened the edges of your anxiety.

“You ok?” Ever perceptive, your Mando, you thought, your heart picking up pace at his concern - making him even stiller than before at the change he had noticed in you.

“Um, a bit better.” I think you added to yourself, chuckling weakly at the absurdity of it all. “L-listen, Din, it’s too late to reverse this, but I’m lucid right now, just feel a little weird – so if, if this gets worse, you have my permission to-”

“-No.” He cut you off in his firm tone: the one that he used in deals, the one he used when he told you to stay in his sight.

“But if I can’t-” You tried to plead, stepping out of the ‘fresher unaided now, though hardly able to rip your gaze away from the muscles flexing in the arm that had left your side.

“That pollen has had an effect on you,” he said, still firm, final. “Like you just drank a whole jug of spotchka – I can’t trust you’re sober.”

You sighed at that, straightening your back as you hugged a towel round you. “I just feel like I’m tipsy, Din. Honest.”

You met where you thought his eyes were under the visor. “It’ll be ok if you do - if I can’t do it by myself - is what I wanted to say.”

Din paused, shoulders going down as he sighed, one hand reaching for your chin. He hummed, seeming to assent to your judgement after looking at you closely through his tilted helmet, though still uttered – “I don’t want to do anything to you whilst you’re in an altered state.”

“I know.” You said, heat returning to your face. Though, you weren’t quite sure if it was from the effects of the drug or from your own arousal-tinged bashfulness. “I trust you, though.”

He nodded stiffly. “I’ll be outside.”

You assented, though your heart plummeted at him leaving your space and locking the bedroom door behind him.

__

He felt awful and out of place resuming his usual tasks whilst the knowledge of what was happening behind the metal door to their sleeping quarters brought images into his mind, he couldn’t seem to shake off…

Relationships were a new thing to him entirely and whilst he wasn’t wholly inexperienced, he had never shared his life with someone like this before. Practical and caring as you always were, he knew that you understood why he still did not remove his helmet, knew why you had set a slow pace with becoming intimate with each other. He was still unable to recall you riding him on the pilot’s chair without blushing, or a fresh renewal of the spark he felt within him since he had met you on his strange quest.

He couldn’t help but think of what you must be doing, how he longed to see every part of you, leave his helmet off and taste you, kiss you like he knew you deserved and so desperately wished to do for you, to let go of any restraint he had on himself, to let go and lose himself in pleasure... But he couldn’t risk it, he reiterated to himself, however hollow and futile the mantra sounded to him now. There was no doubt that you had seen his face, when he had said goodbye to Grogu. His foundling. His family. Though he hadn’t dared to name it as that, that’s what he hopes you are…

He went through the monotonous actions of checking his bounty pucks, debated on whether to clean his already pristine blaster, did laundry and checked his calculations for hyperspace. Failing in distracting his mind and flustered by the day and his thoughts he removed the rest of his armour, deliberately taking his time to place them down carefully in a neat pile.

Upon finishing his checks in the cockpit, a shimmering caught his eye, looking down to where he had pulled up his sleeves, he saw faint streaks of the same pollen across his arms.

Feeling a jolt to his gut, he attempted to rub at one of the stains and felt the heat start to creep along his skin. “Fuck.”

His cock already half hard from his previous thoughts, rapidly started to strain against the fabric of his flight suit. He keened at the unwelcome stimulation it gave as he leant back against the pilot’s chair. It was then that he heard unmistakable sobs coming from below, causing a pit to form in his stomach. He didn’t want you to be in pain. Hearing you cry out again, he was on his feet without a moment to spare.

__

All you could focus on was the almost-painful sensation of arousal that zipped through your body, the feel of every nerve thrumming with need, adding to the frustration that your frantic fingers had done nothing to alleviate the feeling, before the door slid open.

The sight the bounty hunter was met with was almost too much to bear. Thighs slick with your own arousal, body flushed, writhing and panting on the bed, your blown pupils met that visor, looking directly into his eyes you called out his name plaintively.

“Mesh’la.” He breathed. “Do you want me to help you?”

“Yes!” You gasped, legs clenching around the hand trapped between them. “P-please, I can’t- it’s still- it hurts!”

He leant over you, one hand resting against your cheek and the other smoothing your hair back from your face.

“Ok – it’s alright, breathe mesh’la.” He soothed, already reaching down to press his palm where you wanted him most. “Relax for me.”

Parting your thighs for him he settled in-between, relishing every moan, groan and whimper you gave out as his fingers glided across your mound, brushing up against your clit. Reaching for him in desperation you guided his hand down to your entrance. "Please, Din - I'm ready - please-" Din plunged two of his fingers into your cunt with ease, the lewd sounds of it making you moan in chorus.

The sensations coursing through your body building at Din's touches, his fingers curling up to hit that spot within you. Your orgasm hit you quickly, coming with a gasp at the relief you found, both pleasurable and not nearly enough… Riding it out, you heard him ask you if it was better and you nodded. "Keep going, don't stop."

Though, you needn't have worried about him relenting, as Din didn't slow on stretching your weeping pussy with his fingers, leaning down to grab hold of you with his free hand, circling and pinching a nipple, making you whine and grab onto the front of his flight suit.

"Got affected by the pollen too…" he guided your hand down to his clothed erection. He moaned, a beautiful sound to your ears, as you ran your hand over it.

Din’s panting breaths and gasps were accentuated by the helmet, uttering your name reverently. “-Maker, you’re so hot, couldn't stop thinking what you must've been doing, to see you like this- can I?" He swore under his breath before continuing. “If we’re gonna do this, I need to turn off the lights – do you trust me?”

"Yes." You said, arching your hips into his touch before he pulled away. Plunged into darkness you could only make out his outline, seeing him reach his hands up you heard the rush of air as he lifted off his helmet and your breath was caught in your throat. Even with the pollen coursing through you, it was forgotten within that moment in your surprise. You tried to picture the brief glimpse you had gotten of his face before, trying to imagine what it must look like now as he returned to the bed.

Before you could say anything, his head dipped, tasting you with laps of his tongue and you keened when his mouth closed around your clit.

At first, he went still when your hand found his hair, before relaxing into the touch. You brushed his hair soothingly before lightly tugging at it and smiling at his reaction. The smirk was wiped off of your face as quickly as it arrived though, feeling his grunt of approval run through you and you returned to that consuming, focused desire to come, come, come…

Din was confident in what he could do and prided himself in being able to learn what you needed - but this was completely different. He was reserved, practically shy when things started getting heated between you. But that side of Din didn’t seem to exist now, and his loosening tongue was something conjured out of your fantasies.

“You taste good. So good.”  His hands came to hold your thighs open, pushing them up higher before practically burying his face in your wet pussy. You couldn’t help but wail at the pleasure of your second release, coming without much warning, babbling as Din spread his tongue over you, savouring the taste that he had long been deprived of.

The heat was still intense, you sat up tugging at his sleeve. “Off, please.”

Your eyes were now focusing in the dark, a crack of light coming from around the door and you could see Din's face shiny with your release and shivered. The flight suit was finally discarded, and you crawled over him placing your hips over his as he bucked up into you. He had been holding back a little bit you supposed you thought faintly; his skin was hot to the touch as well, affected similarly as you were. Free of barriers, you grinded against him, knees threatening to buckle as you succumbed to your desires. Again, Din was there to anchor you, helping you to rock against him.

“Tell me what you need, d’you need me to fuck you?” You could only whimper in response, and he let out a breathless chuckle. “Left you speechless, huh, how many points is that to me?”

“I- I’m s-still in the lead!” You said weakly, a smile twitching the corner of your mouth, as you knew that this response would egg on his competitive side and Maker, did you want to see more of it.

He grunted, hands digging a little harder into your hips looking like a vision underneath you, a sheen of sweat over his torso, hair falling back from his face and pupils blown. “Need you to use your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes! I want you to.” You cried and Din rolled you over onto your back, sliding his thick length into you. Soon the slapping of skin on skin fills your ears and you feel the heat rise to your face again, meeting his strong pace with thrusts of your own as he hits deeper and deeper…

You feel another orgasm approaching and you reflexively put a hand to your mouth, biting down on it to muffle how loud you’ve gotten, when it is roughly snatched away from its place. Din’s body blocks out the light coming from the door as his arms frame your sides, pinning down both of your wrists. His eyes meet yours and it is clear - even in this dark space - the intensity of his gaze.

“No, no - I want to hear all those pretty sounds.” Din grunts, his frame shuddering. “So close, mesh’la!”

Your hands grip his back, pulling him down enough so you could kiss down the length of his neck. “Need you, Cyare. Come for me.”

__

There’s no way of knowing how long it's been since you returned, nor how long you have been affected by the drug in your current state. There is only the two of you and your sweaty bodies pressed together. Finally, you are able to pull Din down pressing your lips to his, slowly, as he learns to copy your movements or to push his tongue into your mouth to slide across your own, before you hunger for that too and barely separate for breath as you indulge Din in the experience of kissing.

All the while he praised you, “So good for me… taking me so well…”

Tears start to form at the corners of your eyes, his cock twitching inside you again. You groaned at the tug of arousal the sensation brought, reaching out to hold onto anything and finding his arm. “Din, Din - it’s too much!”

He tensed. “Do you want me to-?”

You shook your head frantically, lacing your fingers with his. “I can’t, I can’t…” You don’t even know what you couldn't, at this point...

Din leaned his forehead to yours and cooed your name. “You can! I know you can, just one more - come for me again.”

He moved slowly as you writhed underneath him, moaning, mouth open and he felt you flutter around him. “There we go, sweet girl. Come on my cock mesh’la, let me-” Din swore again, voice hoarse as his hips stuttered, “let me fill you up!”

You came twice more, each release quickly succeeding the other, legs trembling and tightening around Din’s hips as he filled you, panting and whining into your neck.

Din gently rested against you; utterly spent you could feel the burning heat of the pollen no longer.

A minute might have passed before you rose to clean yourself up, with Din’s assistance. Both feeling the heady drug dissipating from your system as exhaustion was left in its wake, you flopped bonelessly back onto the bed.

A blanket was gently pulled up over you and you sighed a last breath in consciousness, Din rested next to you, an arm slung around your waist.

“Sleep ner kar’ta.”

—

The whirring of the ship is what broke your sleep, body aching as you rose sleepily, finding no-one beside you. The sounds were familiar, the humming suggesting that the hyperdrive had been engaged and you realised that you hadn’t asked Din about his bounty yesterday… well… you had had more pressing matters at hand…

Swinging your legs out of the bed with a groan, you figured now was as good a time as any to get up, you were awake, whatever time it was.

Padding into the ‘living space’ of the hull, you noticed the crate you used as a table held a bottle of water and some food bars, only slightly jostled from their original position by the jump into hyperspace. Din must have set these out some time ago, heart warming at the thought, though, you felt a little sad that he hadn’t woken you. Making quick work of the rations, you hunted down your supplies to make caff, which was made a little difficult when your fingers were shaking. Dammit! 

It was at this moment that Din made his presence known, clearing his throat. In the past, you may have dropped the mug in your hands, but at this point you were used to it, even if it was still alarming he could move in that armour so silently. You greeted him, bashful as you replayed the events of the other night, not looking round from what you were doing, though Din didn’t miss a thing and could see your hands trembling.

“Are you alright, are you feeling some after effects from the pollen?”

You huffed in amusement, taking a sip of too hot caff. “I think it’s not so much the pollen and more because you railed me so hard yesterday, tin can.”

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Din duck his head, if you could see inside that big helmet of his, you had a suspicion that you might’ve been able to see him blush.

“Anyway, how come we’re in hyperspace? What happened to the bounty?”

“I captured the quarry whilst you were asleep.” Din saw the shock on your face. Turning on your chronometer, you realised it was mid-afternoon. “You were pretty out of it this morning, and you needed your rest.”

You nodded in assent, face turning up to look at him as he hesitantly rested his gloved hands on your shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“My muscles ache, but other than that I have no complaints.”

“You… I didn’t go too far last night?”

“No! Of course not, Din. I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances,” That was an understatement, “but don’t worry, I enjoyed it.”

His voice was doubtful, strained. “You’re sure? I felt like I couldn’t stop and I-”

“-I’m okay, Din, you didn’t hurt me - look at me.” Anticipating his thought process, you brought your hands to the sides of his helmet and looked into the visor intently. “I enjoyed myself, kriff, I’d even do something similar again sometime- though, I’d never want to come into contact with that stuff again - if I can help it!” You added, wrinkling your nose.

“But… you enjoyed it?”

“Yes, Cyare, even with the flower pollen, I definitely do not regret it so - so I hope you don’t either?” You asked, swallowing hard.

He let out his breath, shoulders sagging. “I just worried about you, Cyare…” Before adding in a weightier tone that vibrated through you. “...But, no. I don’t.”

You rested your head into the crook of his neck and he hugged you to him. Pulling on the edge of his shirt to place a kiss to his neck your eyes widened at the dark bruise you found there. “Kriff! Did I do that?”

You felt Din nod. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled at that. “I didn’t hate it, though, you do bite hard, mesh’la. I’ll have to be careful around you.”

He was teasing, but you still felt like sinking into the floor.

“I guess this is a good lesson, not to wander off on your own.”

You pouted. “I was trying to give you a romantic gesture!”

“You still went off the ship and got into trouble.” Though he said it with no malice, you had to concede he had a point. 

You sighed. “Okay, fine. No wandering alone in strange, unknown places.”

“C’mon, we should land in a little while.” He said, taking your hand to lead you to the cockpit.

Sitting down in the pilot’s chair, you were about to sit in your own seat when Din brought both hands to his helmet. As soon as the helmet hissed you brought your hands up to your face.

He said your name softly. “It’s fine, you can see.”

“But - your creed!”

“I know you already saw my face yesterday, ner kar’ta, and I want you to see.” You let your hands drop and your eyes flutter open.

In the light of the cockpit you could see the emotions more clearly on his face, than you ever could before, he was clearly nervous, but he met your gaze and your mind found relief in seeing him. This meant he didn’t regret what had happened, either, that he wanted this.

Din pulled you down to his lap, hands reaching around your thighs to scoot you closer and hold you there.

“The bounty can wait a little. Right now, I want to kiss you again.” He said in the deep, husky tone of his unmodulated voice.

You placed your hands back onto either side of his jaw, smiling. “Then do.”

Haymitch took Peeta and her through the other victors that were going to be part of the Quarter Quell and her head was swimming with all the information.

“District 6… male victor’s been self-medicating ever since… not a threat. Though, this is _____, she won her games at the age of 18, staunchly sober, has been the only one to step up to mentor any of the tributes from Six…”

 Katniss looked at the screen, a fresh-faced woman in her early thirties, hand trembling as she thrust it into the air to volunteer to replace one of the morphlings - an older woman with more vacant eyes and frowned at it.

 “I don’t get it, why did she volunteer?” She interjected.

 Haymitch looked over at her. “Well, when we come to our next victor, you might understand.”

 She heard Effie quietly exclaim. “Patience!”

“Anyway, she is a survivor - used her smarts to be elusive and not starve whilst also showing she could kill when needed, as her final fight was with one of the careers, and is a little bit tech savvy even if she isn’t from three, so,” And Haymitch gazed pointedly at her then, “she is not to be underestimated.”

 Then the video moved on to an image of a man with facial hair, a faint scar on one cheek and a prosthetic arm. The screen information on the tributes showed that he was in his late thirties. He looked towards the camera with a steady gaze much like Finnick had at the Quell Reaping in Four.

 “District 7, Ezra Twigg, formidable opponent, incredibly skilled in survival and weapons but especially throwing axes, took out several tributes in his games with his dominant arm lacerated and infected, so just imagine what he would be like on a good day.” Haymitch said with a wry smile at his end comment.  

 “But?” Peeta asked, eyebrows raised.

 “But he and _____ are practically inseparable, been close friends for years, you don’t see one without the other too often here in the Capitol. She would’ve known that Ezra would’ve been picked and decided to volunteer so they’d be together in the arena…”

 Katniss glanced out of the side of her eyes to Peeta, who had turned his focus towards Effie, giving some babbling account about the woman from Six and swallowed, before looking back at the screen which now panned over the male and female tributes for the district. She caught the sight of a head of blonde hair rushing into Ezra’s side after his name was picked, a girl she realised, who was then coaxed back to her seat by Johanna.

 Katniss recognised the face though it wasn’t covered in ash and debris.

 “Is that the girl from the ruins arena?”

 “Yes, the girl who won the previous games before you and Peeta, Cee Riley. Bit of a wild card. Ezra was her mentor and is practically family to her and obviously, would do anything for her protection…”

 Her heart thumped in her chest, thinking of Prim as she saw both Ezra and Cee let a few bitter tears fall as Johanna Mason was declared as the female tribute for the Quarter Quell.

 How on earth were they going to stand up against these victors? How was she ever going to be capable of cutting any of them down to save Peeta?

You were still groggy from coming out of sleep to the blinking of the baby monitor, clumsily reaching for it out of reflex. Feeling the absence of your husband’s warm body by your side, you gathered he was likely across the landing to the nursery by now.

 Blinking your eyes at the screen though and waiting for the app to play the audio and fuzzy video you noticed the alarm had gone off ten minutes ago and been silenced. Javi. He was a great father but every once in a while, his stubborn protectiveness did frustrate you; you had agreed to share the load, you were parents now and you had to work as a team.

 Even if you did know that it came from a good place. You huffed out a breath. He had been through so much, raised into a world you only got to know from knowing him and what he told you, mostly, until you got caught up in the middle of the cartel being found out by American intelligence (plus Nicolas Cage) for abducting a teenage girl – all because of staying for Javi’s birthday party.

 He had been tirelessly attentive during your pregnancy, too. Had you wanted, you wouldn’t have had to have even lifted a finger (you imagine quite literally so), but that wasn’t quite your style.

 Though, it worried you, he’d been staying up and taking care of your son a lot since he had a fever a few days ago. Whilst the nurse had reassured you that he was fine, he was still a little fussy and it was obvious that Javi was feeling insecure, knowing that there might be something, anything, that could go wrong.

 You definitely had experience with that yourself, with Javi supporting you through your labour and all the built up anxiety and stresses that came after when your baby – who you named Nico – could return home and you had sat by his cot to watch him sleep, not daring to succumb to rest yourself should anything happen to him. You had managed to get through it, supporting each other, raising a family though you had never dreamt of it actually becoming a reality: you with your writing career and Javi and the danger he had been in, a family was a long-distant want, a wish…

 Taking a look at the feed you could see that he had gone into the nursery, but that was a little while ago, so you decided to look at the playback which took a minute to load. You saw Javi swaddling and swaying your crying baby before it cuts to the live audio/video.

 Nico’s cries start up again and your husband is shushing him. “No, no Nico. Shhh… oh I know, I know - it must be terrible being so poorly…” The feed goes silent again, either unable to pick up the sound or glitching, as so many of these devices do (the one you had first picked out had been a lot slower). Now Javi had crossed the room, bouncing the baby as he paced. “However, we must not wake your mama, hmm?”

 Too late. You don’t wait to swing your legs round and get out of bed. Perhaps Nico simply needed a parent swap to stop fussing, then you can drag Javi back to get the much-needed sleep he needs.

 Rounding the corner, you saw him, a hand cradling your son’s head, seeing the flash of a gold pinky ring and the wedding band right next to it. Nico was quieting now, his cry turning into a droning whine as Javi gently settled on the sofa you had placed in the nursery (a god send when Nico had needed more feeds round the clock) cuddling your baby boy to his chest. You didn’t want to disturb the peace of the moment, wondering if announcing yourself would startle either of them when Javi started to talk softly.

 “When I met your mama, I had no idea that my life could be like this – we were both in America for the premiere of a movie. At that time, I couldn’t stay too long travelling what with… well, that part is a story for when you’re much, much older, precioso.” He said, placing a kiss on his head.

 “I found out that she was a writer from a mutual friend, but I couldn’t pluck up the courage to talk to her until the party the next day – hosted by our friend…”

 You rested your head against the door jamb, hearing the faint rustle of leaves and the shushing of the waves distantly in the background whilst Javi lulled your baby into slumber with his memories, utterly spellbound by the tranquillity of the moment.

 “… Then, when I proposed, I was also nervous. Though, maybe not as much as I was when we first met… but I did end up dropping the ring.”

 You smiled at that. Javi had had the idea of a perfect proposal: just a table for two, dining together on the Gutiérrez’s own private beach. It had been several months after the aftermath left by his cousin and his death, when you were finally free to meet without pretence, not having to withhold from each other, as you had to before.

 Javi had been so preoccupied whilst he went to retrieve the ring box from his pocket he had bumped into the table, sending the ring flying into the ice bucket that was holding your champagne. Both of you had dove to fish it out of there and through your ecstatic laughter you had managed to say ‘yes’.

 He may have seen that moment differently to you, but it was from that moment that you knew you couldn’t have any anxieties about your future with him, the nightmares – Javi’s and your own, ones you still had- that outweighed how you felt, that would hold you back from seizing happiness with both hands. It was the most imperfectly perfect moment.

  Distracted by your own reminiscence, you were only vaguely aware that Javi had tailed off his stories. Snapping out of your reveries you saw him place Nico back into his crib, his long breaths indicating that he was deep in sleep.

 “I know you’re listening, mi flor.” He said turning around.

 “God, Javi!” You started, coming out of your hiding place and lowered your tone. “I didn’t want to startle you before and now you– why didn’t you say so?”

 “Of course, I knew! I started talking and then I saw you in the glass reflection. That's when I started talking about us.” He said with a glint in his eye as he smiled at you.

 Glancing at the wide glass window it was obvious: in the darkness of the early dawn the pane reflected an image of the interior, instead of the paved garden outside. So much for being stealthy.

 “Sly fox.”

 “Smart bunny.”

 “It’s dumb though, Javi. Dumb bunny.”

 “I know, but you are smart, I could never call you dumb.”

 You shook your head. Three years married and you were still in awe.

 “Let’s finish our conversation somewhere else, don’t want to wake him up.” You whispered, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the nursery. “Anyway, I don’t know – we’ve made a few dumb decisions together, surely?”

 He hummed. “You might be right about that. Like the time we went camping.”

 “Oh, yeah that was a bad idea-”

 “-or that time you got stuck on the ski lift.”

 You turned to face him. “That’s- well that’s not dumb! It wasn’t entirely my fault, either.”

 “Mi flor,” He chuckled, an arm snaking its way round your waist as you were backed through the door to your own room. “I still can’t believe, you have been in the middle of a shoot-out, been in a car crash, broke your leg, all in the same day, calm as anything; but you’re afraid of heights!”

 You wanted to grumble but he had already placed a placating kiss to your forehead, and you sighed into his touch, reaching your arms up around him. “You’ve been up too late recently, my love.” You felt him tense a little. “Tell me about it?”

 He sighed. “I keep getting restless… feeling like all of this is temporary, a dream, that I feel too safe now and what if there is some danger I haven’t seen or forgotten about, it’s… it’s been keeping me up a little-” Gazing down at you, he swallows at your look of concern. “-but I swear, it’s only been the past few days! With Nico being sick I didn’t feel like resting.”

“Javi.”

 “I know, I know-”

 You shook your head, unable to not smile at Javi’s ways. “-I know you know, but tell me next time, yes? I worry too.”

 “Ok.” He said warmly, rubbing soft circles over your shoulder where your skin was exposed by the fallen strap of your pyjama top. “I promise.”

 “Now, amor, come to bed I miss sleeping next to you.” You went to pull away, but he swivelled you back round to face him. “J-Javi?!”  

 “I was thinking of things other than resting…” His head dipped down and left lingering kisses down your jaw to your neck and you bit your lip.

 “Don’t kiss my neck-” You gasped weakly. “you don’t know what you’re starting, you need sleep!”

 “This will help us both to sleep, amor.” Javi’s lips smiled against your skin and you cursed the fact that you fell for his teasing every time…

 A/N: It’s surprising, because I’m expecting to keep my life child free, that I’ve found some joy in writing about my faves having babies? (so I guess, what I’m really saying is don’t expect fics with pregnancy etc. often... maybe?) But here we are! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It seemed to really fit with the slice-of-life idea I was going with & it ended up snowballing into like a whole bio of this cute little budding family, plus Javi really does deserve everything (especially after what he goes through in the movie! We want him to live his best life) ❤️ Thanks for reading & I hope you enjoy!

Ezra remembered that year’s Hunger Games well, although a tinge of shame washed over him at the recollection that, primarily, it was because the male tribute from his district had come 4th.

 But no-one would be able to forget that finale.

 Perhaps that’s one of the things the Capitol loved the most and therefore certainly shouldn’t be the thing to focus on the most, but it was hard to forget – a surprising ending. Well, for most who were watching it anyway, maybe not for himself, being the underdog so long meant that he could recognise someone with the same spark.

Or so he told himself, anyway.  

 It was a mountainous arena, with a winding cave on one side - both an excellent and a risky place to hide away in, depending on personal skill – a fair few of them ended up toppling over the higher places, instead, caught by flying mutts or bashed in by the career crew, caught because of their visibility or trying to keep warm with a fire.

 That wasn’t her, though, no, she holed up in the cave system, winding her way around, keeping out of sight, making an unlikely ally before everything, inevitably, went haywire. The closing days of the games always did. She and the other girl were trying to escape some wiry brute by climbing the walls across an underground waterfall when her ally fell to her death, into a cavern below.

 There were only six tributes left.

 The girl from District 6 escaped, taking her first kill in the male tribute who was waiting on the other side, but not without injury. The caves flooded, drawing out anyone hiding in there. Six got out of there and since the cameras had panned over to the boy from seven, he didn’t know what had happened but suddenly she had been running from career girl from District 1. She wanted to put on a big show, drag it out, thinking she was safe with some lowly girl from six. She could torture her a little, make a lot of open wounds before dealing the killing blow, and thus make her memorable victory the best game of cat and mouse that the Capitol would ever see! But six had struggled, put up a long, awkward fight across the bare ground that even Ezra thought no-one would be able to bear so well. He knew that people expected a District 1 victor that year. Though it turned out that hubris became the career’s downfall.

Six groped for her discarded weapon and slashed at her opponent and kept going until the other girl was still.

 Ezra recalled the dazed face at the end when she was announced the victor, looking back he doubted she knew where she was at that point. Just clinging on to life. His heart dropped in sympathy, unable to stem the flow of his own experience from flooding into his mind. The feeling of blood rushing in his ears, barely able to pick up what the announcement was saying before he was plucked up by hovercraft and put to sleep.

  He couldn’t remember much of the victory tour from that year, he showed up certainly, but had sloped off early - as was most non-career victors’ custom, from what he could gather, at these kinds of events; be there for the televised part, leave once it was done. It happened every year, halfway between one game starting and the other beginning, and at least in seven, they wanted to forget, rather than revel in the fresh memories of another person who had not made it back home.

 Nevertheless, that year in particular he was distracted, Lin had told him she was finally marrying Damon – a relation to the Twigg family, though they didn’t have much to do with one another. She had seemed happy, though, really happy, and so he had pressed his doubts down… and failed in doing so.

 “It’s not too late to back out, you know that, right?”

 “Ezra-” she admonished, light-hearted as she always seemed to be. “he is your cousin.”

 “A distant cousin and as you well know by now, I put no stock in being bound by blood for the sake of it.” He grumbled. “But if you are certain, then I wish you both happiness. Of course, I do. He needs to watch it, though. Being a wife to a guy in the Bench, it’s not the life you’ll be used to. Don’t let him mess you around, Lin.”

 “Of course, I won’t! Look, I don’t know what happened to make you both so sour, but come to the wedding, yeah? Reconcile?”

 He scoffed. “He won’t want me there.”

 “You need people, Ezra. I’ve seen the state you still live in; you can’t shut everyone out, it’s not good for you.”

 He wanted to plant his feet into the ground and be stubborn, say his part about how things were better than before, that it wasn’t that bad, but he managed to cut it short. Damon wouldn’t or couldn’t reconcile and, once the ceremony was over, she’d be too busy to bother with these futile pursuits to connect all of them as a ‘family’ anyway. It wasn’t gonna work.

 He shook his head gravely. “Listen, I’ll pay for anything you’d like, flowers, cake, your tailor’s bill. But I can’t come. It would come to blows between us, it’s for the best.”

 It was a few years ago now, but he didn’t hear anything bad. Perhaps they were happy. He had seen them at the hob a couple times. They seemed happy.

 You must have been school age when his games were on. Setting your mind to becoming a router, already mapping out your plan for a career, determined to get your place and help your parents. But it wasn’t hard to recall that Hunger Games. The boy from seven, lithe, a little less stocky – probably from being underfed, but still strong – carving his way through the career pack who had started to turn on him, dealing a blow to the back of the leg of the boy from District two and outrunning the rest. Though, not unscathed. His arm had been pierced by the same career.

The arena was a large swamp filled with poison gases released by some sort of ground plants and went off like geysers. Some of the murky ponds held humanoid looking mutts with scaled flesh. One of these mutts had come for the boy from seven, ripping into his already damaged arm.

 Though he continued to survive by eating tubers from the safer waters and climbing up the trees for safety and eventually allied with some other non-career tributes. The ones he had teamed up with had been caught by the careers, but not before one of them - the female from District 3 – had lit a match next to one of the poison plants and it exploded into a fiery mess, taking out two of the opposing tributes.

Ezra had then fought the remaining careers in the ensuing battle. It was night and the tributes could only see by the light of the fire now created in the arena. You remembered that cause the Capitol hosts had commented on it. He had chased and been chased by Inumon, the final career from four, she had dealt a blow to his gut, but Ezra was able to best her in the end by stabbing her. Her canon went off first and he had lost an arm as a result of the games.

 You recalled how it had made you shiver, watching the cornucopia bloodbath that year. Like everyone else, you had definitely thought about it before, if you were called to be a tribute at the reaping. But like a lot of children from your District, had some excuses up your sleeve as a veil of comfort for the ever-present fear: it couldn’t be you, there’s so many people to choose from, some get more tesserae than you, so you’ll be fine.

 Of course, you had never expected to find yourself in line at the Justice Building to sign up for tesserae in the first place. Not until your father had left, never to return. He had found someone knew amidst his addiction troubles. And you were left to help pick up the pieces and provide. You needed it now more than ever, as angry people turned up to get the money your father had borrowed from them. 

Then your mother had fallen ill when you were sixteen. Your pillar had tumbled.  

 Luckily, your smarts had won you a place of prominence and you were sent out to the Capitol along with one of your friends, Teel, to work in the Transfer, so on top of a wage your mom didn’t have to worry about getting a place: you both moved in with Teel’s family, and would sleep on the couch when you had to return to six, since the two of you were hardly there for most of the year. Money was tight, but you thought it would work. 

 Your eighteenth birthday came though, and you weren’t safe from the reaping like you had told yourself you would be. 

 But you survived it. Your stylist had said you were ‘lucky’ to have lived, that the doctors had thought they might’ve had a dead victor on their hands. She seemed thrilled to give you all of the chocolates and other fine things that someone-or-another from what’s-that-place had sent to their team to congratulate them and celebrate your victory.

 But aside from the people you knew in your District, not many people seemed thrilled that you had ‘won’ the Hunger Games that year. They had expected District 1, and the Capitol liked District 1. 

 And you were so focused on working, of keeping your head down and going unnoticed that you were at a loss of what to do now. You couldn’t work and the other victors were dropping themselves into a drugged stupor just like your father probably was, somewhere far away from the Victor’s Village if he was still alive.

 Lucky… Yes, that’s what you were.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

Din Djarin:

Knowing The Rules (18+)

Ezra (prospect):

The Storm (18+)

Rising Tides (Series, 18+):  Prelude  | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (WIP)

Drabble - untitled (x gn!reader)

Javier Peña:

For Tonight (kinktober ficlet, 18+)

Javi Gutiérrez

Tranqillity

Dieter Bravo:

Bubble Burst

Dave York:

Detached ( for writers’ iron chef by littleferal)

STAR WARS:

Fennec Shand: 

Relationship hcs (gn!reader)

GRAVITY FALLS:

Stanford Pines:

Vampire!Ford x f!reader (18+)

Professor!Ford x f!reader (TBD)

Ford & young reader with a crush (TBD)

Relationship hcs (gn!reader)

Cuddle HCs

Kink HCs (18+)

Finger HCs (SFW/NSFT)

Mirror sex HCs

Noises (NSFT, 18+)

Flaws in a relationship

Outside sex (18+)

In Theory and in Practice (18+)

Stanley Pines:

Mafia Au (x f!reader) TBD

Catalogues (x reader, 18+)

Relationship hcs (gn!reader)

Kink HCs (18+)

Noises (NSFT, 18+)

Flaws in a relationship

Teen runaway adopted by Stan

ARCANE:

Silco relationship HCs and character analysis

DC:

You’re not really sure what had irked you exactly, but you know that the way Lorraine was looking at Javier as he talked with her earlier that day had something to do with it. The reception had been fun for the most part, you even got Javi to dance with you by the end, but still you couldn’t shake off the irritation. 

Ever observant - a valuable skill in your field - you had surmised what she must’ve been thinking, and what she must’ve thought about you and Javi. Well… she might be half right on that.

Though, it also hadn’t escaped Javi’s notice, either, he had caught you staring and had tried to coax you about it on the drive back to the ranch.  

Shrugging off your purse and shoes you made your way to the kitchen, your partner hot on your heels.  

“What’s this all about… are you mad at me or something?” 

“No, Jav, I’m not mad just… annoyed.” You folded your arms, looking to the side.

“It’s not- just- it doesn’t matter, really, I’m just in a weird mood.” You sighed waving your hand in resignation, this wasn’t the time to spoil things, Javi had been happy, you had been happy that he was happy, and you didn’t want to threaten the moment and the fine balance of whatever it is that your relationship is, now that you’re more than just friends. 

“Angel.” That got your attention, spoken in that softer, deeper tone, the soft expression in his dark brown eyes meeting your gaze, made you crumble. Damn him. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong, I just- I didn’t like the way she spoke to you… it bothered me, that’s all.” You huffed, gaze dropping to the patterns in the floor. 

He snorted. “So, this is what you’ve been sulking about?” He paused and you could hear the veiled amusement in his voice. “You’re jealous…of Lorraine?!”

“It’s not jealousy, I just didn’t like the way she treated you.” You turned, scowling at him for poking fun at you. “I mean it, Javi… you and her, it wouldn’t’ve worked out, sure… but that’s not all on you.” 

He sighed heavily uttering your name. “I was the one who left her at the altar.”

“That’s not the point I’m making, and you know it.” You said, feeling the frustration fizzle out as you looked at him, giving him a slight smile. 

“So, when are you going to admit that you were jealous?” He teased. 

“Do you want me to be jealous?” You asked incredulously. 

Javier chuckled and it met his eyes, reaching a hand to caress over your waist. “It’s a good colour on you.” 

He smirked crowding you up against the counter, hand coming to lift your chin to look up at his wide pupils. “You look gorgeous by the way - did I mention that earlier?” 

There was little time to reply as Javi leant down to pull you into a fervent kiss a resonant moan coming from both of you as his hot tongue slipped into your mouth, arms coming to wrap around you to press you into him and pinning your arms in the process. 

It was all-encompassing with Peña, it had been from the start, when you had become friends; the kind of friends that worked together and aggressively debated on the best plan of action, it just became more intense as you became closer. He poured passion into the kiss, like he had done countless times before, trying to convey emotion through it, ready and eager to fuck any tension out of your days. He liked to take your time with you if he could, but this time felt even slower. You press your thighs together to release some of the aching throb that was already coursing through you. 

“Hmm, I don’t think you did.” You say, smoothing your hands over his chest, managing to undo a few buttons on the plaid shirt he was wearing.

“Then I’ll make it up to you.” Running hands down your torso, he knelt on the floor, head between your knees he lifted up the skirt of your dress, pressing the bunched-up material into your hands before pulling down your underwear. “Hold this for me.”  

Feeling the first press of his tongue over your cunt you sighed, moving up to your clit and then down again. Soon the fabric between your hands were clenched in fists, heat rising to your face as you moaned, head lolling back. You wish you could hold onto him, run fingers through his hair, but you remembered your instruction before Javier moved his face upwards capturing your clit between his lips, sucking languidly. 

You whined loudly at that, shifting your legs wider, dropping one hand to caress his neck. He pulled away with an utter of your name, teasing you with his fingers now. “Shit, you’re so wet for me already.” 

He eased his index finger into you before adding another, you whimper when you meet his gaze, seeing him below you - watching your face as you squirm from his touches. “Missed you, Javi.”

“It’s been too long, angel.” He said between trailing kisses back up your thigh towards your core, the pace of his fingers quickening. “Almost forgot your taste.” 

Hand returning eagerly to your dress and push it away from blocking your view, your legs almost buckled at the unforgiving, broad strokes to your cunt as Javi sunk his fingers into you deeper. You had little warning as your body soon trembled, coming undone with a gasped “Oh!”. 

“That’s it, querida, that’s it.” Javier cooed, bringing out his hand to reach yours and kissing the back of it. 

Grinning now, you help him up to his feet. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” He said pulling you by the waist towards his room. 

“Javi- Javier- wait! Won’t Chucho be coming back soon?”

“He’ll take another hour at least to say goodbye to everybody, we’ve got plenty of time baby.”

“So, I have you for tonight?” You ask ruefully, using the words you had used the night you had reluctantly left Colombia and Javier months prior.

“I’m all yours.”