#YES i used sw swears

[hyunsvngs]

𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 5.8k

cw: this is a piss fic, you have been warned - don't like don't read, established d/s dynamics in a relationship, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: your boyfriend has something he wants to try in bed. you didn't expect to like it so much.

a/n: like i said before this is a piss fic, if you don't like don't read! thank u to the sweet girl who commissioned this & thank u to my babies may and nessa for proofreading and also my ems <3 i was super nervous about this so i hope u like <3 smut warnings ofc under cut

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sw: PISS, established d/s dynamics, dom!minho, sub!reader, subspace, SERIOUSLY THERE’S PISS, face fucking, oral (m rec), very negotiated kink, minho calls reader a plethora of pet names, nipple play, one (1) face slap, minho’s condescending and MEAN, choking, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, squirting, reader calls minho sir briefly, brief aftercare but more offscreen!!

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It’s always daunting when Minho gets like this. You know exactly what’s going to go down tonight - you’ve discussed it extensively. You always have to discuss it extensively. Minho is nothing if not a good dom, and there’s rules and regulations that you have to adhere to, even if he is your boyfriend.

It still catches you off guard. He paces across the room to your shared wardrobe, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing his veiny forearms. You’re perched on the bed, the exact way he told you to be in your plain black underwear. The fresh sheets are a welcome coolness on your warm skin. You’re overheating in excitement. You can’t wait. 

He’s going to piss on you tonight. He’s going to piss on you tonight, or maybe even in you, he’d said - he wanted to make you well and truly messy. Just the way he liked you. He told you he’d be mean, maybe even meaner than normal, and you’d agreed to it all before climbing into his lap and begging him to take you on the flimsy dining table chair in your kitchen in all of your excitement. He had chuckled, brushing a hand over your head with a teasing little “you want it that bad, huh?”. He still fucked you, so your plan went as hoped.

“I want to talk to you about something before we start, jagi,” His voice is smooth, low in volume, yet you hear every word loudly. You nod in response, and he turns and blinks at you, slow and cat-like. Oh, yeah. You were forgetting yourself already.

You blush in embarrassment of how far gone you are already, and he smiles, soft and barely noticeable. Fond. “Yeah, Min?”

The blush only continues to spread when he finally, finally climbs onto the bed next to you. He’s still in his work clothes, shirt tight on his broad pecs and his trousers tight on his thighs. You try not to stare. You fail, and he chuckles, using two fingers to prop your chin up to look directly at his eyes.

“This scene is a little harder than the other ones we’ve done,” He looks at you. It would feel scrutinising, the way he’s sizing you up, but his eyes are so full of fondness you can’t feel perceived at all - only admired. “I’m a little worried you may fall into subspace. Do you know what that is?”

He’s using his dominant voice on you, you swear. The tone of voice that’s level, not quite monotone but very, very straightforward and firm. Almost strict. It makes you rub your thighs together in need. Your boyfriend is so sexy when he’s like this. 

A quick scratch to your chin has you blinking back into reality. Yes. “Yes, I do know what that is. I’ve never done that before though, have I? So I probably won’t now, and-”

“We don’t know that,” He’s firm when he cuts you off, but presses a kiss to your nose nonetheless. “I need to know if you’re okay with me continuing if I notice you getting all floaty, jagi. I won’t if you don’t want me to. This is all in your hands, yeah? You know you run this show.” 

He chuckles, lightening the mood, but he’s right. When Minho first introduced you to this, you realised very quickly that despite the dominant being physically in charge, it was definitely the submissive that held the reins. It’s hard giving yourself over to someone so viscerally - it’s a vulnerable state to be in, letting someone decide your limits and decide what’s best for you.

Despite that, you’d let Minho fuck you outside in six foot snow, so you were definitely down for being fucked in subspace.

“Yes. Yeah, I want you to- I think it’d be hot, I think,” You’re babbling already, and Minho smiles again, his teeth glinting in the low light of your lamp. “I think it would be hot if you carried on, and I was like- all fuzzy, and stuff. You know?”

It’s silent for a beat, and then he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Cute. Remember I love you, jagi, okay?”

Oh. Oh, you were starting? He normally only said that before you started, and before you can question him, he’s pressing his mouth against yours firmer, harder. It’s messy, the way he dominates your mouth instantly and uses one hand to tangle in your hair, yanking your hair back. You whimper against his lips, and he bites your bottom lip in response, finally moving to press you down to the bed with him on top of you. He starts to trail kisses down your face and your neck, and you can't help but let out a small noise of excitement. Before you can beg him to leave his mark on you, he quickly moves back up to your lips and starts to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth in an act of possession. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer, feeling yourself getting a lot more than just worked up.

His chest is muscled, the slightly toned soft muscle that only makes sense on Minho. He’s not heavy on top of you, only a presence where he licks and sucks into your mouth until you’re leaking into your panties. He pulls away, his lips dropping to your neck, and you can’t be anything more than pliant the way you let him use your skin and mark you as his. You are his. Mentally, emotionally, physically - any way he wants you, you’ll let him.

“I love this body,” Minho groans, his voice low and gravelly. “Such a filthy fucking body. You’re gonna let me piss on it, aren’t you?”

You whine, loud and unabashed, and Minho chuckles. It’s a puff of air against the exposed column of your neck and your hips cant up, searching for friction. 

“Oh, you are,” His hand moves down to your bra, searching through the lace for your pebbled nipple. The lace is thin, pitch black and almost sheer, and a grin forms on his face when he manages to pinch your nipple meanly. “Look at how excited you are for it. Your nipples are so hard, are you that excited for my piss?”

You try to nod in response, but a quick slap against your cheek using his spare hand has you reeling to try and form words. You’re babbling before you can even think. “Y-Yes! Yes, Minho, I’m excited. I can’t wait, I wanna- I wan’ taste it, will you let me? Please?”

He hums in consideration, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your tits to him. He was right - your nipples are hard and pebbled, dusky against your flesh, and he ducks down to engulf one in his mouth. His lips are full, plush like pillows, and his tongue darts around your nipple in small kitten licks. Soft, wet, warm. Pliant. His.

Minho’s bunny teeth are quick to bite at the peak, and you whine, back arching up to get more of the painful pleasure. He coos at this, finger running over your areola once when he pulls back from your chest. He sits back on his haunches, fingers deftly making quick use of his belt. The way he pulls the belt from the loops on his trousers have you remembering all the times he’s whipped you with it, and your eyes go blurry. You’re staring directly at the extremely prominent bulge in his trousers as if you somehow have x-ray vision and can see his cock in all its glory already.

“I’m going to fuck your face,” He explains, pushing down the expensive branded boxers to his thighs. His thighs are thick, muscled from years of dance, and you nod at his words despite having your vision solely trained on the bulging muscles. You can’t even keep your attention there for long - his cock springs out, hard and flushed and so big, so thick in the tight ring he forms around the base. The veins look as though they could be practically throbbing beneath the skin with arousal. “I’ll fuck your face, and I’ll piss down your throat. Do you want that? Tell me.”

He’s asking you, and you can’t believe it. Of course you want it, but you respond anyway. “I want it. I want it so bad, Minho. How do you want me? On the floor, on my knees? Or do you-”

“On the floor,” He looks towards the ground, pleased with himself when you heed his commands immediately. You’re quick to dive off of the bed and sink to your knees on the floor, and Minho lets out a fond chuckle before standing in front of you, ever the image of dominance. The hardwood floor doesn’t save your knees, still feeling hard and uncomfortable, and the way the pain bites into your legs has you shifting even more. It turns you on, being used and treated like an object, and being put on the floor to suck cock doesn’t help any. You’re positively ruining your panties by now.

His trousers are pushed down to his ankles, the perfect juxtaposition of black, thick material against his milky skin. His shirt is rolled up just enough for you to see the bottom of his tummy, hairy and soft above his cock. You expect him to keep it on, but you watch in awe as he unbuttons his shirt quickly and throws it to the side. His chest is exposed to you then, all broad muscle and dusky pink nipples against his skin.

He pumps his shaft in his hand a few times for good measure, just barely a few inches from your face, and then he’s tapping the cockhead on your lips. “Open wide. C’mon, kitty cat.”

His tone is condescending, almost patronising, and you hold back a whine. When your lips fall apart, he’s pushing into your mouth before you can even process it. A blistering, feverish pace immediately takes over his hips, and his cockhead is ramming down your throat with only a slight bit of pain beneath all of the pleasure. You try to run your tongue over the tip, to trace the veins with the tip of your tongue, but it’s impossible. He’s using your mouth like he’d use your pussy, unabashed and downright mean.

“Take it,” he grunts, looking ever the ethereal being above you. If you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was an angel - no, a fallen angel, debauched and with black, wiry wings sprouting from his back. Sweat covers the top of his chest, shiny and wet, and his cockhead presses firmly into the back of your throat. Your eyes water with the intense ministrations on your throat, hands aching to reach out and grab onto Minho’s thighs. They stay securely on your own limbs, and Minho groans, his eyes staring down into yours.  “Fucking take it for me. Take my cock, dirty kitty. Don’t you dare fucking cry about it.”

You’d swear he was composed if it wasn’t for the way he was looking down at you. Minho’s mostly quiet in bed, only a few sparse noises, but the fire in his eyes is visible.

The sounds in the room are filthy. Your eyes are hazy already with the force that he’s rutting into your mouth, but when his hand goes into your hair, yanking with all of his might, you hear yourself whine between gags and you’re not even trying to. You’re floating, fuzzy where your boyfriend fucks his cockhead into your mouth - you can’t even consider what’s going on, not too out of it but out of it enough to question what’s actually happening around you. Is this what Minho was talking about before? Subspace?

“Oh, Jesus. Are you feeling fuzzy already, kitty?” He pulls his cock out, tapping the cockhead on your bottom lip. A string of drool attaches his cock back to your mouth and he groans in approval, feline eyes narrowing. “Went down so easy for me, huh? Do you think you can take a little more?”

You’re nodding then, subconsciously, but a slight smile on your face. You want more. You need more. You need his piss, wherever on your body that he deems acceptable - it’s like he’s marking you as his territory. It’s such a primitive act that gets you more than just hot under the collar. If he pisses on you, or in you, it’s as if he sees you as an object that’s beneath him, not worth anything more than his piss. 

“Good,” He muses, and then his hand is forming a tight ring around his length. It’s throbbing, long and thick where it protrudes from his groin with drops of pearlescent precum, and he presses it past your lips again with a small sigh. “I’ve gotta take a piss, kitty cat. I want you to swallow it all for me, and then you can have some milk in that pussy for being good. How’s that?”

You can’t reply, because he’s already bouncing your head on his shaft. He’s resorted to pulling you up and down on his shaft by your hair this time, not grinding his hips rhythmically into the hot, wet cavern you’ve provided. 

“You know, I really thought you’d say no to this,” How the fuck is his voice calm right now? “But then I realised that of course you’d be into it. My filthy little fucking urinal.”

You moan loudly around his shaft. Minho chuckles, and then he’s pulling back again, your throat abused and aching at the alleviation of pressure. His cockhead stays at the entrance of your mouth, and he drops a hand from your hair to pump it a few times, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It’s coming,” He warns. “Are you ready? Are you ready for my piss, filthy bitch?”

You moan, nodding, and when your tongue lolls out of your mouth, Minho lets out a loud groan. It’s primal, and you watch silently as he shakes his head and flutters his eyes closed to try and gain some control of himself. He runs his finger over the slit of his cockhead, and then he’s pushing the tip past your lips again and - oh. 

His piss begins leaking out of his tip, a slow and steady stream that tastes surprisingly a lot like you expected. It’s purely Minho, raw and unfiltered, and you whine and whimper and let him fill your mouth up with his piss. It feels filthy, your pussy positively dripping through your panties and onto the floor by now. The stream floods down your throat even as you continue to gulp it down greedily, and you allow your hands to finally find purchase on his thighs, fingernails digging into the muscle. He allows it, his hands both moving back to your hair to bob you on his tip just a little to get the rest of his piss out.

Minho pulls out of your mouth with a soft noise, his eyes staring down at you almost menacingly. You dip your tongue into his piss-slit once more, moaning at the remnants of the taste, and then you’re whining, loud and un-muffled. 

“Minho,” You say, voice high and needy. You feel as though you want to say so much, you want to beg so much, but nothing is coming out of your mouth. You’re so fucking turned on you feel like you could die. “P-Please. Please, please. I can’t, I can’t, please, please-”

He positively growls. You’re pulled up by two hands underneath your armpits and thrown onto the bed less than unceremoniously, his body sidling up next to you. He’s kicked his trousers off, you notice, body warm and firm next to you.

“Was it that good? Dirty little thing,” He hums, tongue licking one fat stripe up your neck. “C’mere. Let me taste it on you.”

Minho’s lips are firm against yours, and his hands are anything but gentle as he slides them down your body. It’s like he’s igniting you with electricity, every area of skin that he touches feeling warm and too sensitive. His lips trail down your neck, leaving another trail of fire behind them. You’re pliant, letting him pull you by your hair and your throat into his dominating, overwhelming kisses.

His fingers reach your panties, and his finger dips underneath the waistband. You gasp, holding your breath and wishing, praying that he’ll push his whole hand into your underwear, but he simply pulls his finger back with a small amused puff of air. 

“Hnnfg, Minho, Minho, please, I don’t, I can’t-“

Minho leans over you more then, his eyes dark and half-lidded when he stares into yours. His gaze is all-consuming, but there’s a slight hint of a teasing smile on his lips. “Jesus, kitty. Be quiet,” His voice is low, amused, until all signs of a smile drop from his face upon his fingers finally delving into your underwear. His forearm obscures your vision, muscled and veiny, but you can feel the way your wetness immediately drenches his fingertips. His eyes flicker from your face to your core in awe, lips slightly parted. “Fuckin- shit. Jagi, tell me this is a joke. You’re fucking drenched.”

You are. His fingers smear around in your wetness, spreading it all around your folds. He drags his middle and ring finger down to your hole, wet and sloppy, and you look at him with pleading eyes. You’re not sure you could talk even if you wanted to.

Minho simply smiles that toothy smile that you love, eyes crinkling. You’re confused - he’s being nice - until he’s shoving both fingers into you at once. It was a stretch you hadn't been prepared for, and you jolt with a squeal, hands going up to grip onto his forearm. 

“Do you remember what I said before, jagi?” He muses, fingers curling up into that spot that makes you whine. You do whine, legs thrashing around and toes curling against the sheets. “If you have any in there, I’m fucking having it. I want you to piss all over my cock before I fuck you with it, remember? I want you to treat you like the dirty little thing you are.”

You nod, brain still fuzzy and way too overwhelmed. Your pussy squelches loudly around his digits, and his spare hand wraps around your throat in a dangerous grip. It’s not too hard, but definitely there, and you whimper in approval. 

Your eyes roll back into your head at the pace he sets against your g-spot, and after a brief, tight squeeze, Minho removes his hand from your throat in favour of using two fingers on your clit along with his harsh fingering. His arm is curled underneath your waist in a position that must be painful to him, but you ignore it in favour of your own pleasure. 

You feel like you could scream, and you do let out some strangled noise that sounds nothing at all like you. Just when you think it can’t get any worse - or any better, actually - he slides another finger in, stretching you out with three of his digits. You’re dripping down onto his knuckles and you wail, starting to hump against his hand. You’re going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

“You better be fucking thinking of asking for permission, bitch,” Minho hisses in your ear. You moan in response, nodding. Of course you’ll ask. Something about your boyfriend just makes you want to be good. You want to obey him so he continues to give you such nice things. “You don’t make the decisions. I'm the one fucking that hole with my fingers right now, I'll be the one who says you can cum.”

His fingers thrust into you faster, if it was possible, and you thrash around. The movement brings Minho’s cock against your thigh, and you gasp at the realisation that he’s next to you, naked, in all his glory. Your fingernails still dig painfully into his forearm, but he doesn’t seem phased. “Minho, Minho- I’m gon’- please, please, please, I wanna cum, let me come, it hurts, I-“

“Oh, I know, I know. It just feels too good, doesn’t it? You can’t even fucking control yourself, writhing around like that,” He groans, eyes fixated on your face. You know your expression is screwed up in pleasure, eyes watering from the feeling of his fingers inside of you. His fingers begin to slide around on your clit rather than provide any direct pressure due to how wet you’re getting, but you still hump against the sensation with gratitude. You’d never have anything other than gratitude when Minho’s being so nice like this. “You’re behaving like a fucking whore. Beg me for it. Beg me to let a fucking whore like you cum all over my fingers, tell me how good it feels.”

He starts kissing up your neck again with the open-mouthed, wet movements, and you feel like you’re about to burst. Just a little more. Just a little more, and you can, you just have to will your brain to speak. “I-I love sir's fingers, fuck, I love when sir fingers me like this- fuck, sir I'm gonna- can't hold it- I, hnng, I can’t, I don’t- pleasepleaseplease-”

Minho pulls away from your neck with an alarmed little snort. “Sir? God, you are far gone,” He points out, but then he’s pinching your clit meanly with his fingers. It makes you hump his hand a little faster and whine a little louder. It’s quiet for a beat, and then he’s sighing as if he’s annoyed. You swear you catch him rolling his eyes through your blurry vision. “Okay, fine. Go on then, if you want to cum so badly. Cum.”

With one word, you feel like your whole world is falling apart. A gush of wetness bursts from you and all over the bed, probably soaking Minho too. Your ears are ringing and you can feel the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall, fat streaks of wetness painting your skin. His fingers don’t slow, but he’s groaning in your ear now, coaching you along. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing over your clit with a wet hand that only made you let out another gush everywhere. You were sure you'd screamed.

You wail and thrash through your orgasm, and then you’re panting, body dropping back onto the bed. You don’t register Minho groaning, licking his fingers clean - you only realise he’s moved when he’s on top of you, yanking your soaking wet underwear down your legs and finally unclasping your bra. Your hands go above your head, pliant and willing, letting him take control. You’re fucked dumb by now, anyway. You’d be no use.

“If you had all that in there for me, you have some piss in there,” He muses, and you whine, shaking your head.

“D’nt need to pee, Min,” You insist, head lolling back on the sheets. You’re pliant, and Minho grabs your chin with his hand, making you face him. His ears are burning a shade of delectable pink, the flush travelling over his chest and making him look almost embarrassed. You know this state of Minho all too well, though. He’s so horny he feels like he’s about to explode.

“You do,” He responds, quick as a flash. You whimper as he presses his cockhead into your folds, just barely teasing the ruddy, flushed tip at your hole. Your hands move to grip onto the sheets next to your head, and just when you’re sure he’s going to put it in, Minho leans down, and then his hand is pressing on the bottom of your stomach. You wail, shaking your head. Minho chuckles knowingly. “You need to piss, don’t you?”

You do. Embarrassingly quickly, just from him pressing on your bladder. “I- it’ll make a mess, Min, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I want it to make a fucking mess,” He scoffs, pressing harder. He continues to drag his cock through your sopping wet folds with his other hand, his feline eyes staring at you with a renewed fire burning behind them. He’s daring you to disobey. You would never disobey him. “I want everything you have to give me. Piss all over my cock. Do it.”

You clench your thighs, stomach tensing. It doesn’t take much, only a slight rubbing of Minho’s hand on your tummy and you’re pissing. The stream erupts from you in a messy spurt, and Minho groans, pumping his cock to coat it in your mess. You whine, trying to shift your hips to catch his cock inside of you, but the mess you’re making ensures that it’s too slippery to do so.

“Stay still, you’ll get it in a second,” Minho mumbles, hand tightening around the head of his cock. It’s substantially lubed now, but he still continues to pump it, hand easing up on your stomach. Something about it has your mouth watering, staring at his cock and wondering how it tastes. Maybe he’ll let you suck it clean next time, let you taste his cock mixed with your own piss. “That’s it, kitty. Get sir’s cock nice and wet with your piss. Dirty little thing.”

When the stream finally finishes, you shift against the sheets, soaking wet and definitely a lot more aroused than you were previously. There’s still only one thing on your mind. “Can- can I have it now, please, please?”

Minho nods, his cheeks blazing red. He’s losing his composure. “Yeah. God, yeah, kitty. You can have it, c’mere,” He sighs, finally pushing the head of his cock inside of you. It slides inside easily with the wetness of your pussy and the mess you’d made on him, his thick shaft stretching you out and making you moan out for him. You catch sight of Minho’s eyes rolling back into his head, a long, drawn out noise leaving his lips. “Fuck, this is so fucking dirty. You’re filthy, letting me do this.”

No. You’re not, are you? Are you dirty? “Filthy?” You question, completely in bliss at the feeling of him finally inside you. You’ll be filthy if it means he’ll fuck you. Minho chuckles, and then his hips start to move, a sinuous grind against yours. The noises your pussy is making are beyond debauched, wet, slapping sounds from how soaking wet you are. You whine, bucking your hips up, and Minho lets you, gripping your hips to pull you off of the mattress.

“I’m gonna go harder, okay? I want you to take it for me, all of it,” His voice is close, leaning down to whisper it against the skin of your neck. You nod eagerly, and he pulls your thighs up to rest your ankles on his shoulders. The change in position has his cock hitting you deeper and you gasp, fingers moving to grip on his biceps. He sits back slightly, pulling you closer to him, and then he’s pounding into you. With little to no buildup, you can’t help but squeal, your pussy gushing around his fat length. “You love this, don’t you? My cock, covered in your piss, stretching your little cunt out. You love being filthy for me.”

“Hhnnfg, hhng, Min, Min, Min, you made me pee, you-”

Minho scoffs, hand threading into your hair. He wraps your hair around his fist and pulls, bent half over you while he pounds your pussy into oblivion. “Don’t make stupid fucking excuses for yourself. I can see it in your eyes, you love being like this for me.” 

You whine, tears brimming in your eyes again uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but just lay there, pliant and gripping onto his biceps for him to stretch your pussy out with his veiny fucking cock. It feels almost too good, too overwhelming. The ridges of his shaft are pressing against your walls, causing a delectable friction that has you clenching down on every outwards motion from him. It’s as if your pussy doesn’t want him to leave, and you don’t want him to leave, pulling him close by his arms every time he thrusts inside of you. 

Minho pushes your thighs apart, and then he’s bending you into a sort of mating press. Your legs rest on his upper biceps and his body folds you in half for him, making you whine at the stretch on your muscles. You’re loud, embarrassingly so, little “ah, ah, ah”’s leaving your mouth with every thrust. The change in position allows him to hit your cervix with his length, long and throbbing inside of you, and you’re only louder and more pathetic for him. 

“Can you hear that, kitty cat?” He whispers, and you hold your breath. Once you’ve stopped making so much noise, you can hear it - the sound of your pussy is even louder, wet and messy and when you look down, his cock is soaking with you. With your piss or your slick, you’re not sure, but it has you clenching down deliciously anyway. “I’m fucking your own piss into you, and you’re whining like a little bitch.”

You can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. Your previous slight fuzziness has morphed into full blown floating, and you think you’re crying, but you’re not sure. All you can hear is your own noises, loud and desperate while he ensures your pussy never forgets the shape of his cock. “Ah, ah, I don’t- sir, I don’t, I can’t, I don’t know- ah, oh, I can’t-”

“Ah, fucking hell,” Minho hisses, gritting his teeth. You watch in disappointment as he pulls his cock out of you, forming a tight ring around the base with his fingers. “I need to cum inside you. I need to give you your milk, kitty cat, c’mon. Flip over for me.” 

He tells you to do it, but helps you anyway. You feel his hands go to your hips to flip you over, and then you’re face down, and some part of you finds the strength to push your hips up to present your pussy for him. But, milk? You’ve been good enough for that?

He sinks back inside you, his cock slick and fat and too much for your little pussy. “There you go, jagi. Biiig stretch, feel it,” He moans, and you push your hips back on him easily. In this position, your lips are parted and you can feel yourself drooling up a puddle on the sheets. It adds to the mess, filthy with piss and slick and sweat, and you want Minho to lick it all up and spit it in your mouth. He immediately resumes his punishing pace, hips slapping against your ass with every thrust and hitting that delicious spot inside you so well. “Fuckin’ tight pussy, ah, it’s so good.” 

“H- haa, Minho, have I been good?” You question, eyes blurry and bottom lip slick with your own spit. Minho groans, deep and loud, reverberating through your whole body. He knows you need reassurance, and he nods, a little smile on his face despite his lust-filled, half-lidded eyes.

“You’ve been so good. So good I’m giving you my cum, yeah? Gonna breed that little pussy, filled it with your piss already, needs my cum now,” He’s babbling, which is a sure sign that he’s close - but you can’t even fathom it in your state. “Little girl, kitty cat, so good for me, c’mere.”

You don’t move, but Minho slinks one hand around your hip to rub at your clit. The added pleasure has you jolting with a whine, and Minho lets out an amused puff of air at your reaction. His fingers slide around your clit wet and imprecise, but it’s enough to have you hurtling towards your second orgasm. His cockhead slams against your g-spot, bordering on painful, but the sensation only adds to the throes of bliss he has you tumbling through.

“Min, Min, Min, it’s- ‘s so good, so good, so big, so- Min, Min, I g’ta-”

“You can cum whenever, jagi. Give it to me, I want it,” His voice is higher, more desperate, and you nod eagerly. He sidles over your back, his sweaty chest pressed to your skin, and then he’s pressing his lips against yours.

It’s less of a kiss and more of a messy exchange of spit and breathing into each other's mouths. Minho’s tongue slides against yours as he continues to rub messy circles around your clit, and before you know it, you’re cumming around his cock with a sharp gasp of pleasure against his lips. He swallows your noises, finally engulfing your mouth with his, and you moan and sigh freely through gushing all over his length, the electric feeling making your toes curl.

Minho envelops your hair tightly with his spare hand, thrusting harder and faster, his breathing becoming ragged as he approaches his climax. With a broken whine, you feel his cum fill you up, thick and hot and heavy.

He flops on top of you with a sigh, his body weight a welcome presence for you. You ignore the feeling of the sheets beneath you in favour of closing your eyes and humming contentedly. You’re still floating, but it’s calmer now, softer. It feels like you’re on a cloud. “So good, Min.” 

“Yeah?” Minho grins, his hand now stroking softly through your hair in favour of yanking on it. “You did so good for me, jagi. You were so, so good, made me cum so hard.”

“You made me cum hard, too,” You respond, opening one eye to see his face over your shoulder. His cheeks are flushed, hair sweaty and floppy over his eyes, but he has a blissed out smile on his face. When he catches sight of you looking at him, he smiles, and the sight of his bunny teeth has your heart singing. How can he look so cute after fucking you like that? Before you can say anything else, you yawn, and Minho giggles. “‘M sleepy.”

“Bath first, jagi,” He coos, kissing your hairline. “My sweet girl. Let’s get you nice and clean and then we’ll nap.”

“Mm, okay,” Minho hops off of you and you stretch out leisurely like a cat, your body sticky and defiled. You hear him tinkering around the room behind you, humming a tune to himself, and you smile fondly. “Love you, Min.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

#juno's fics ♡ #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho fanfiction #lee know x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #PISS!

[thewriterowl]

I saw your tags on your Luke Skywalker post and you’re 100% right that he made the right choice in TBOBF!! I was totally astounded by how many people were angry at him in this show and believe it ‘ruined his character’. And for what? Letting Grogu choose his own fate? He was probably the only person in the entire Mando series to give him the ability to have a say in his own life. Ugh, I swear these people just don’t even like Luke’s character. Sorry for dumping this vent on you, I just saw your post and I’m glad someone else agrees with me <3

Thank you!! More stuff to fanatically rant about cause I have THOUGHTS. This and what he did to Kylo are stuff I’m biting at the bit to defend.

Now, ok, I can agree the execution of it was not the best. They cut corners because they used too much money in his face rather than giving us a new actor so we could have more screen time. Had they given Luke more screen time for that final scene to be longer it would’ve been better. Disney is still not treating Luke right by any means and I just wanna grab him and wrap him up in a blanket and publish my own book on him.

That being said…

Luke was in the right. No, he wasn’t saying Grogu shouldn’t love his father. Again (and again and again) attachment is NOT relationships of any kind. It’s NOT love. How people still feel like that’s what Luke and the Jedi meant boggles my mind. Attachment is possessiveness and the lie of love. It’s a poison. Grogu had some of that and it was shown in season 1 when he tried to choke Cara out. He’s a toddler with power that can corrupt if not carefully guided.

Luke asked Grogu to unlock his memories and Grogu consented. Luke asked Grogu to choose the Jedi life now (and with his age may not ever see his father again; cause Din himself wasn’t coming back thanks to AHSOKA not Luke—funny how only he’s blamed when he clearly gave Din coordinates) or go back to his father now able to defend himself and Grogu thought about the choice and accepted what it could mean thanks to Luke’s guidance.

Honestly, with Luke’s affinity for love and his past with his father, I could’ve seen him urge Grogu to go back to Din (and maybe he did we just didn’t get to see it, friggen Disney) if not for the fact Grogu needs to learn to make hard decisions. He knows he has Luke and knows he has Din no matter what but he needs to learn to face the anxiety and consequences in the galaxy he’s living in.

You are 100% in how much freedom and respect Luke gives Grogu (is it maybe too much for what is about a toddler+? Maybe! Positives can turn to negatives in teaching and parenting and no one is perfect—-including Din) and is the one who really gives him back his inner strength and confidence.

Luke had Grogu for what? Two or three years? (SW really needs to work on providing us clear time jumps)The two were close. They clearly cared for each other. Luke let Grogu go after the choice was made. Grogu learned from that. He saw Luke be selfless and let him decide his path, even if it may keep them apart but there is the hope they will find each other again (IT SHOULD! God I want coparenting Dinluke). Luke is not turning his back to Grogu. Grogu can reach out and/or return at any time and Luke will answer.

So yes, Luke was right.

#star wars #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #dinluke #I will stand on this hill #Luke is a good hearted character #he has flaws #but he was right #and it’s hard to include him sending Grogu off on his own and not go meta #cause that was clearly done cause they ran out of money #this and him towards Kylo I will defend #Luke Skywalker defense squad

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 16

A/N: Whew. This is 100% my own brain child, as in no show plots. It’s just domestic fluff and fluff fluff and action and shenanigans and revelations and ahhhhhhhhhh! I hope you enjoy. There is no show dialogue in this one. (ALSO! Episode 3 tonight?! And also my return from the world of shadow silence…. We’re celebrating a lot here today!) Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits​ wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

(This takes place right where the other one left off and is in between episode 2x5/13, The Jedi, and episode 2x6/14, The Tragedy.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a.

Word count: 17,396 (I said what I said.)

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar​ for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for your endless hours helping me over goodness knows how long since I started this, helping me come up with SW-sy names, for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy. And @deceiver-of-gods​ for helping with the Mando’a. (Any mistakes are my own.) (Also, Huttese is a crazy hard language and I don’t know why it’s Din’s go to.)

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

The Crest was orbiting Tatooine, some final checks in progress as you watched Din from your copilot’s seat. 

Grogu babbled something quietly from his seat to your right, making incessant grabby gestures toward the crate at your feet you’d brought up from the lower level. Soft grunts of frustration painted his string of gibberish in his efforts now and then.

Looking down to the box, amusement colored your features. “What, ad’ika? You want one of these?” Reaching down you pulled up a ration packet, holding it between your thumb and index finger tantalizingly. Letting it dangle as his eyes grew wider, darting between you and the packet and back again in a never ending circuit, you laughed softly. (“Little one.”) 

“Here you go.” Tearing it open, you handed it to him, stopping just short of his outstretched hands and pulling it back a little. Eyebrow raised, you tilted your head down to look down your nose in warning. “Slow.”

Grogu just closed his mouth, his large eyes blinking up at you in understanding as he gently took the packet, making one last circuit between it and you before plopping into his seat with a soft coo. He ate like it had been months since the last time, not a handful of minutes, making you shake your head before settling back in your seat.

“Why are you feeding him?”

Din’s voice pulled your attention to him, your head snapping up from looking at your lap as you brushed crumbs from the packet away. “Oh, this is just a snack. I already gave him dinner an hour ago.”

A moment of silence settled between you before Din sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort. “I gave him dinner two hours ago,” he said, voice resigned as his head tilted to the side.

All you could do was blink. “Din, two hours ago we were loading up the Crest in Peli’s hangar. The hour before that we were in the market for last minute supplies, I got him fresh food there. Three whole frogs. He’d already eaten.”

After another long moment as Din looked between the child while he munched away happily, then back to you, he sighed yet again. Bringing his right hand up to worry back and forth against his forehead, the leather of his glove squeaked against the beskar with each pass. “Well he sure was acting hungry.”

You nodded, trying not to smile like you wanted to, everything about this conversation amusing you more than it should. “Yeah, acting.” Looking over at the tiny green gremlin, the smile won over as it climbed up the side of your face. “I've said it before, and l'lI say it again - where does it all go?”

“What if he's having a growth spurt?”

Turning back to face Din, you studied his body language, not sure if he was joking or not. His voice sounded serious enough, but that could just be sarcasm - he tended to do that. Often. And sometimes his dry tone just came off as not so much a joke, but entirely serious. It could lead to some hilarious moments, but right now, it just made your head hurt. He gave away nothing in his posture, sitting mostly relaxed like normal in his seat, so you just decided to go with it.

“He's a fifty year old man. How much growing does he have left in him? Look at him.” You gestured to the tiny green ward as he disappeared inside the ration packet to get the crumbs at the very bottom. “How tall is he going to grow that he needs,” glancing down at the crate, you did some quick math before lifting your gaze back to his visor, “seven ration packets in that amount of time?”

“You don't know,” he was quick to answer.

Doing a double take as you went to look back at the kid, you raised your brows at him, your voice miraculously low and even. “I know enough.”

“Do you?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned back in your seat, getting comfortable. The way your head was tilted back against the headrest, you were looking down your nose at Din. “Well neither do you, if that's your argument.”

Din’s voice was eerily calm. “I'm not arguing.”

You couldn’t help but snort out a laugh, letting your eyes close for a moment as your head lolled to the side, facing the kid before you turned a sarcastic glare back on your Mandalorian. “This is the definition of arguing, Din.”

“I…”

A small plop drew both of your attention away, looking down to find the kid had dropped out of his seat, had pulled another packet out of the crate, and was trying to make a getaway with it; standing in the middle of the cockpit with a packet almost bigger than he was.

You both said firmly in unison, “No!”

Grogu froze, turning to face you both and promptly falling into a seated position on the floor. Slowly he pulled the packet closer to his chest, looking between the two of you with large seemingly innocent eyes that only blinked maybe twice as they peered into your souls. 

“Kid…” Din’s exasperated sigh made you roll your eyes, turning your focus back on him as you sat on the edge of your seat facing sideways toward the child.

“Din, that's not going to do anything.”

He threw his hands up in the air, letting them slap back down on his thighs loudly as he leveled the stare of his visor on you. “Then you try, oh wise one.”

Making a face at him that was probably childish, to which he slightly tilted his head in response, you did what he asked. “Grogu. Hey. You don't need- Grogu?” 

When you turned, you found an empty cockpit, no child, no packet, just the tips of his ears disappearing below the hatch to the lower level. “Great. You scared him off, Din.” You copied him, tossing your hands up and letting them come down with a slap.

“I- No, you- This....” The following silence was so intense, it had to be something they taught him in Mandalorian training.

Soft cries of frustration came from below as you knew Grogu was trying to wrestle the packet open, but you used it as unneeded fuel for the fire. “Look what you did now, you've upset him.”

The scathing look you could feel along the lines of your face from under the helmet was not something you would forget anytime soon. It was so intense, so practiced, it had to be the second step they taught all young Mandalorians, right after silence.

Then came the third step, which you had no doubt Din himself probably taught other Mandalorians. Turning quickly in the pilot’s seat, he faced the controls, every line of him rigid as he jabbed at some buttons unnecessarily, the ship still floating aimlessly in orbit. The silence was thick as he pouted for a long moment.

Finally, taking a deep breath, you sighed. “Look. Just... Just tell me the next time you feed him, okay? In fact, tell me every time. I'll tell you, too. That way we don't run out of supplies, and he doesn't turn into a BB droid, rolling around here.”

Din’s body deflated as he chuckled softly, giving his head a gentle shake at the mental image you’d painted.

Smiling, you went on. “After all, these are the types of things you should probably tell your wife….”

He groaned, tossing his head back against the seat and giving it another gentle shake as he stared at the ceiling. 

“I mean, that’s the kind of thing she deserves to know.”

“Will you drop it already?” Din turned his visor toward you. “Please?” His voice was somewhere between annoyed and pleading. “I’ve told you, it was just a slip up, I didn’t…. There’s a lot more…. It’s a much more involved process if that were ever to really happen.”

“Well good,” you gave him one single nod in a definitive end to the conversation, and he turned back to the console after returning it tentatively. You smirked as you added, “Because I’m not that easy.”

He deflated, his shoulders slumping forward as a breath rushed out of him, his hands flattening against the console as he leaned into it slightly.

Din visibly relaxed, his head coming down, beskar clad forehead thumping once softly on the console between his hands when you quietly concluded with a grin, “Now I’m done.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled against the controls, his vocoder gently buzzing against the hard surface. Lifting his head suddenly as he took a deep breath, he resumed his assessment of various buttons and switches like always, as if nothing had happened. 

“Where do we go after Tython?” You asked gently, settling back into your chair with a quiet huff of air.

Grogu squeaked in distress from below, so you reached out your hand, a lone packet flying up the ladder into your palm with ease. An indignant squawk floated up through the opening shortly after to meet it, and you turned your head toward the hatch ever so slightly. “I’m opening it for you, ad’ika. This is your last one.” Tearing it open, you mumbled, “Maybe for your life, I haven’t decided. At least for today.”

Din chuckled, making you smile as you continued. “You want some? Come back up here. That little evasive maneuver was impressive, but I want you where I can see you.”

Companionable silence settled between you while you waited for a response from the kid. Finally, you mumbled to Din with a wink, “Kaysh guur' skraan.” (“He loves his food.”)

“Kaysh emuuri epar,” he agreed. (“He likes to eat.”)

Babbling that sounded an awful lot like grumbling began to get slowly closer, so you nodded for Din to continue.

“I don’t know. I had hoped maybe we could talk with the Mandalorians, if we could find them, and they would have more information. I still believe-”

“Oh!” Your eyes wide, you stared vacantly through the viewport before they scrunched up tight and your palm came up to smack your forehead. Cradling your head in your hand, you rolled it slowly back and forth as you mumbled, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Of what?” Din’s words registered just as you felt a tiny tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you saw Grogu looking up at you somewhat sheepishly, his large eyes blinking a bit too much as he worried his lips in a meek expression.

Offering him a soft smile, you lowered the packet down to him, laughing quietly at the pure joy that overtook his face, and the eagerness he snatched the packet with. Not even bothering to get back in his chair, he plopped down where he was and dug in.

Meeting Din’s patient gaze again, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I know someone on Coruscant who might know where some Mandalorians are. Or at least something about them.”

“How?” You’d half expected him to sound accusatory or suspicious, but he just seemed genuinely curious.

“His name is Nem, a patron at the bar. He works seasonally on some backwater forest planet…. Sorgan?” Din sat up straighter, but you thought nothing of it. “Then comes back for a few months, always stops in for a drink. In fact, once he told me all about a Mandalorian in shiny armor who helped a local village fend off raiders, not knowing I knew said Mando.” You grinned, leaning in almost conspiratorially. “Or that he came into the bar right after him.”

Din’s breathing had gotten rapid, but he said nothing. So after you narrowed your eyes at him for a moment, waiting, you went on.

“Said something about how the Mando had a child and almost ended up staying in the village long term.” You looked up at him curiously. “I hadn’t met the kid yet, so I didn’t know what to think at that point, but I remember feeling kinda sad that I….” Turning your attention down to Grogu for something easier to focus on, you swallowed once, your voice dropping slightly. “Like I almost lost you.” Lifting your eyes back to his visor after a moment, you couldn’t help the sad smile. “If you’d stayed there, I wouldn’t have seen you anymore.”

He was quick to try and fix things, jumping in with, “I would have-” but you didn’t let him get far.

“Din, I’m not stupid. I know you….” You looked at your hands in your lap, your voice small. “I’m sure she was worth it.”

Silence. More silence. It was stifling and thick, and so quiet it was loud. It filled the cockpit in an instant and seemed to suck out all the air, everything you needed to breathe, to exist comfortably gone faster than a sigh. Even the Crest seemed to know, the beeping of instruments seemingly quieted to honor this mandated…. silence. 

Finally something breaks, something gives, coloring the air with the sound of life, the contours of living. Din took a deep breath, then paused, like he didn't actually know what to say. His gloves creaked as his hands opened and closed in nerves, winding tighter each time. Finally, he found what he was looking for somewhere, his hands opening, fingers spread wide, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet.

“There…. There was a widow. She took care of Grogu like her own, her daughter loved him, and he didn’t stop smiling the whole time we were there. Things just…. Worked.” He slowly sat back in his seat, hands smoothing up along the beskar on his thighs, contemplating his next words. Finally, he looked at you again, his head cocked to the side just slightly as he continued honestly. “I thought about staying….” That’s as long as he could hold your gaze before he turned back to look across the cockpit at nothing in particular. “But in the end I decided to leave Grogu there, where he was happy. He doesn’t deserve this life….” Din stared straight forward for a long moment, his hand clenched into a tight fist where it rested on his thigh. “And I don’t deserve that one.”

Before you could say anything to disagree, he went on.

“Omera agreed to take him in while I left. To continue to care for him as if he were her own.” He stopped, his shoulders sagging slightly as he realized what he’d let slip.

“That was her name?” Din seemed stuck, so you repeated it quietly. “Omera?” He nodded after a moment of hesitation, making you smile softly, your voice low to match. “Omera,” you whispered the name again, letting it settle comfortably under your skin. “Beautiful.”

Din shifted in his seat before he continued. “But then a hunter found us, and the kid wasn’t safe anywhere. And everyone there was in danger if we stayed.” He turned back to the viewport. “So we left.”

Watching the stars crawl lazily by, you let the silence sit between you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Nem also mentioned you were with a Rebel Dropper from Alderaan….” Your eyes must have widened comically large as you turned back up toward his visor, his chair swiveling slowly toward you with a long sigh. “Was that Cara?”

He nodded, his head lolling back against the headrest of his seat with a soft thump.

You began to giggle. “He mentioned that the people said you had a very…. Abrupt personality.” He grunted. “I’m going to have to ask Cara about this next time we see her.” He sighed again, his head hanging slightly with a gentle shake making you begin to smile. “In the meantime, we have to get in contact with Nem. The only way I know how is at the bar. He’s due to stop by anytime now-”

“No. It’s too dangerous.” Din’s visor was leveled on you, keeping you pinned to your chair before you could get to your feet.

“Din, come on!” You protested. “I can finally help!” Standing, you began to pace the small expanse of the cockpit, arms gesturing as you spoke. Grogu looked up at you from his perch on the floor while he continued to munch away. “We could make a plan past Tython in case that doesn’t work out. If you're worried about fuel, I have some more credits stored in my apartment - Don’t look at me like that. You don’t live in that part of town and not take some precautions. I will grab them.”

Din rose to his feet, stopping you from continuing your back and forth in the limited space. “Someone could be watching-”

“Then you can watch for me.” You smirked. Turning, you waved your hand for the doors to open to the hatch, Din right on your heels. 

“And what if someone comes for you?”

Scooping up the kid who clutched his packet tightly to his chest, you started down the ladder toward the lower level, pausing just before you were too low to meet Din’s gaze one more time. “You do what you do best.”

Xxx

Walking along the lower levels of Coruscant, the grimy streets and heavy air surrounded you at every turn, and you’d never wished to be away from it more. Having finally experienced fresh air and space, this entire planet felt like a prison now. You understood Din’s distaste a little bit more.

He had left Grogu on the ship, both of you opting to get in and get out as fast as you could, stopping by your apartment first. Din was right on your heels, keeping his head on a swivel and your arm in his grip, ready to pull you behind him and to cover at a moments notice. 

Stopping a few feet in front of your building, you narrowed your eyes at a woman watching you intently a short ways down the walkway.

Din’s hand slowly left your arm and moved to his blaster, but you reached out to stop him, your hand over his.

“Mom?”

You felt him freeze under your touch. “Your mother?” His voice was in your ear.

The woman said your name barely above a whisper, her voice weak in disbelief.

“Mama!” You breathed, rushing over and wrapping her in a firm embrace.

“Oh!” She grunted in surprise, voice strained as she laughed softly. “A little too tight, firefly.” In your peripherals you saw Din tilt his head just slightly at the endearment. 

“What are you doing here?” You mumbled into her shoulder, not ready to let go.

Her hand smoothed over your back comfortingly. “I come by here sometimes hoping I’ll see you.” 

Releasing your mother, you went to introduce her to Din, but she was quick to stop you, waving her hand for you to hush. “It’s not safe for you here.” Her eyes darted into all the dark corners as she spoke, waiting for something. “If I thought of looking here, so have they.” 

You narrowed your brows in question, stepping closer to her as you lowered your voice further. “Who is ‘they’?” Din’s hand softly came to rest on your lower back.

Looking both ways with wide eyes, her gaze finally landed on you, darting to the Mandalorian at your back before coming back to you. “I assume you came here on a commercial flight?” 

Closing your eyes as you tried to wrap your mind around the change of subject and gently shaking your head, you raised one brow skeptically as you peered at her. “No, we have our own ship. Well, he does. I pilot it sometimes, though.” 

She smiled, her demeanor softening for a moment, the tension easing from her shoulders as she stood taller. “You finally learned how to fly. Your father would be so proud.” 

The thought of your father right now amused you, thinking of him standing here, as he stood toe to toe with Din, leaning his head back to hold his gaze. Hands probably on his hips as he issued some absurd warning only the truly brave or truly stupid would say to a Mandalorian. “How is dad?” 

“I’ll meet you on your ship.” She turned to look at Din straight on for the first time in this conversation, without a single flinch. “Where are you docked?” 

He looked at you before answering. “Lower levels, not far from the bar.”

“I know the one,” she instantly confirmed, shooing both of you back across the street. “I’ll meet you there later and bring your father.”

Din nodded, telling her the number of the spot he docked in. Standing back upright, he looked side to side every few seconds as he ushered you to the other side of the street.

“So what, we just go wait on the ship now?”

He merely nodded again, making you roll your eyes as you turned back to face forward, his hand once again on your lower back, gently guiding you toward the Crest. 

“Yay,” you mumbled sarcastically. 

Xxx

As you walked through the rows of ships toward the Crest, silence wrapped around both of you like a blanket. But not a warm, comforting feeling like the one you kept in the cockpit, no. This was nearly suffocating, too tight and constricting, heavy.

“Din-”

“Slana. Kemi ogir,” he said in a low voice near your ear, cutting you off with a slight gesture forward with his head, his grip on your arm tightening. (“Go. Walk there.”)

“Me'bana?” You lowered your voice to match, keeping the slight stumble from your stride as you tried to keep up with his quick steps. The switch to Mando’a was second nature, now. (“What's happening?”)

He hesitated for a moment before lowering his voice further, so much so, you could barely hear him. “Ashnar ru’shekemi mhi.” (“Someone has followed us.”)

“Osik!” You hissed, starting to turn to look over your shoulder. (“Shit!”) 

He gripped your arm tighter, giving it a firm tug back towards him, making you face back forward. “Don’t turn around. They don’t know we know yet.”

Your face screwed up in confusion. “How do you know?”

Din pressed something on the side of his helmet for his display as he explained, “They keep getting closer. No one who knows their target knows they’re there gets that close. That’s just stupid.”

You let out a soft snort through your nose. “Not everyone is you, Din.”

He turned to look at you for the first time in the conversation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, turning to meet his gaze with a small smile. “Not everyone will do the smart thing.”

He looked back forward with a sigh. “Unfortunately.”

Still looking at him, your smile grew. “I think you mean fortunately. If everyone did the smart thing, we’d be in so much more trouble, and you’d be out of a job.”

“You make a good point,” Din muttered quietly after a moment, making you chuckle.

Turning your focus back forward after a quick glance to your side, you fell in step with Din once again. “Vaabi meg gar vaabi.” You jutted your chin to the side to indicate what you meant. (“Do what you do.”)

His visor turned almost imperceptibly to the right, before coming back onto you, his grip tightening further. “Keep walking, go past the Crest. When we’re one ship away, shoot one of your whistling bird blanks at the panel under the cockpit. It’s still loose, and it’ll fall, distracting them long enough for me to disappear. I’ll get behind them, take care of it. Just keep walking. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”

You stopped moving to stare at him, but he kept pulling you along. “Why? Din, I’ve seen you do worse before. I’ve done worse before.”

His modulator was right by your ear as he kept his voice low. “That was out of necessity. This is-”

“Also necessary.” You didn’t bother to keep your voice low anymore.

“For me.” That was the same tone he’d used when you’d accidentally pushed him on Nevarro and he’d told you to get on the ship, the one you’d only ever heard for bounties. He sighed, his voice softening. “Mesh’la, please. For me. I’m just trying to protect you. Listen just this once.”

You turned only your eyes over to look at him, his visor studying the side of your face intently. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he rushed out. 

“Just this once,” you whispered as you held up a finger close to his visor, the side of your mouth tugging up in a betrayal of the threat.

He let out a soft huff in amusement. “Keep walking until I come get you.”

It takes you a moment to get out a quiet, “And if you don’t?” Your accusing finger once wagging in his face now fell slowly to your side, your hand hanging limply at your side, feeling as useless as the rest of you currently did.

His head tilted to the side just slightly. “Like you said, I’ve done worse. This will be easy.” The Crest was two ships away now. “I’ll be right back.”

Moving as subtly as possible, you reached across your body, pressing the buttons on your vambrace to lower the ramp, trying to stick to routine. Stopping it after a foot or so, Din moved completely behind you, hissing, “Now!” 

Flicking your wrist down sent your vambrace whirring, one blank whistling bird flying for the belly of the ship. The panel fell with a loud clatter, Din disappearing in the cacophony that followed. Emergency lights shot on around all parts of the Crest, white vapor shooting out from the panel filling the area. Looking up toward the cockpit, you saw a tiny green face you’d know anywhere smooshed against the viewport, his hands on either side of his head as his breaths puffed against the transparisteel. 

You could either seal the ship back up and do what Din asked, keep moving, or you could….

Following your gut with a gentle shake of your head, you lowered the ramp of the Crest just enough for you to jump up onto it, sealing it shut with a hiss behind you. You darted the rest of the way up to the cockpit, scooping the kid out of the window as he watched the commotion unfold below. Muffled grunts and flashes from blasters filled the ship from outside, so you dropped to the lower level. 

“Hey, kid. We’re gonna play a game.” He squirmed in your arms, reaching toward the cockpit with one hand, his eyes darting between you and the hatch leading up. 

Holding up his little round ball between your thumb and index finger like you had the ration packet earlier in the day, you smirked when he settled down, focusing on the way the low lights of the ship caught its reflective surface. 

“I want you to do what Ahsoka asked you to do.” Setting him in his hammock, you took a few steps back, holding the ball up tantalizingly. 

A loud thud sounded from outside, something slamming into the hull of the Crest near the ramp. It made you jump, the kid’s head turning to the sound in concern, but when you reached out to feel for Din, he was smug, making you roll your eyes. He’d done the throwing not the slamming.

Resting your dominant hand on your blaster, ready to draw, you floated the ball to Grogu with your other. He caught it with a soft squeal. “Now, give it here, kid.” You made a grabby hand toward him, making him giggle quietly.

The ball floated toward you slowly as the ramp began to lower with a low whirr. “Keep going, kid.” You kept your voice encouraging, your attention on him with your hand extended for the little orb. Your other hand slowly drew your blaster, arming it and pointing it at the rapidly descending ramp.

“Grogu,” you drew his attention back to you. “Keep your eyes on me, ad’ika.” (“Little one.”) 

His eyes kept darting between the ramp and you, the ball still slowly turning in the air like a miniature planet, suspended halfway between you, stuck where he’d lost his concentration for a moment. “Sur'ar.” (“Focus.”)

Turning your body just slightly more toward the ramp, moving just a step to the left to block more of Grogu from whoever was coming up, you turned your gaze toward the sound of footsteps. Watching as the face of a man you didn’t recognize appeared, you straightened your spine, finger hovering over the trigger, ready…. Then the body crumpled to the ground, revealing Din standing easily behind the man, hand on his hip as he took in the scene.

You, the child, a ball floating between you that suddenly dropped to the floor and rolled to a stop at the toe of his boot. Looking down at it, Din stooped to pick it up, tucking it into his belt, ignoring the kid’s squawk of outrage. Turning back to you, his weight shifted to one leg. “Is there a reason a blaster is still pointed at me?”

Blinking a few times, you shook your head to clear it, holstering your weapon. “I was just being safe.”

“It would have been safer if you had done what I asked you to,” he grunted, dragging the body over to his carbonite chamber.

Watching for a long minute, it’s painfully obvious, so you don’t really know why you ask, “What’re you doing?”

Din’s sigh says he agrees with you, but he answers anyway, “This one’s had a bounty on him for a few years. Gonna collect. Not going to let that go to waste.”

You nodded. Suddenly feeling the urge to explain yourself, you took a deep breath before beginning. “I came up here because the kid was watching you from the cockpit-”

“He’s seen worse.” Such a simple answer. Somewhat crude, actually. It seemed out of character for…. No, it definitely was. 

After staring at him for a moment, you scoffed. “So have I, Din. In fact, that was my argument not ten minutes ago.”

His shoulders went stiff, a heavy sigh leaving him. “It’s different.” He kept his back to you as he prepped the chamber, but you didn’t miss the small wayward glance he sent you over his shoulder before his spine straightened further and he turned back to the panel. 

The air was charged between you, something brewing just under the surface. Your hands came to your hips like his had. “No, it’s not.”

As the carbonite hissed, filling the hull with vapor, Din crossed over to the bunk, closing the door as Grogu babbled. With a press of a button on his vambrace, the ramp began to close, and soon after it sealed, both of you were left in complete silence, staring at one another.

After a long moment, he spoke in a tone that was void of any particular emotion. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was a droid. “I need you to do what I ask, mesh’la. It’s only to make sure you’re safe.”

“You don’t need to keep protecting me, Din!” Tossing your arms out and letting them come back down to your sides with a slap in exasperation, you kept your gaze firmly on him. “I can take care of myself. You taught me how.”

Something cracked, his posture breaking down just a bit, the rigidity dissolving under your words. “That’s not-” he groaned in frustration, turning and taking a few steps before turning back to face you again. His voice was lower, full of emotion, too many to name. “I can’t protect you from me.”

Fear. You realized all the emotions swirling in his words came together to paint one singular thing you never thought you’d ever associate with Din. It was unnerving to say the least, and it left you feeling broken, that he would ever be afraid of anything, much less when it came to you.

Staring at him for another long moment, you finally found the words that seemed to fit next. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He began pacing again, hands gesturing with small, precise gestures that made you think of things you’d see a commanding officer use to communicate in the field with fellow soldiers. “Everything I taught you was to keep you safe with me. We get into some questionable situations and I need to know you’ll be walking back onto the ship with me at the end of it all.” He sighed again, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. Stopping his back and forth, Din faced you, his gestures now a bit broader, looser, but less emphatic. “But you’ve never seen me doing what I did before you came on the ship.”

You were smiling. This was ridiculous. “How is that different-”

“It just is!” His voice was raised, his breathing coming in heavy pants like this topic winded him. He didn’t turn away again, staying where he was, but he seemed broader, like he was staring down a threat. And in a way he was. If he couldn’t keep you safe, from himself or anything else, that was his biggest fear, and the thing he wanted to scare off the most.

The smile slipped off your face, furrowed brows replacing it. Closing the distance and reaching a hand toward him, he took a step back, almost flinching away from you, making you freeze.

“There’s a difference. It’s….” His body was turned to the side to face away from you, his visor looking at your feet. His voice sounded almost…. Defeated. “There’s a difference between keeping someone safe and taking care of a threat.”

“Not if they both accomplish the same goal.” Your voice was soft.

Din lifted his visor to hold your gaze, his head tilted to the side. His posture conveyed disbelief, hands on his hips again while he studied you. While his breathing had evened out, it was still shallow, and you had a feeling if you put your hand over his heart, it would be racing.

Reaching toward him again, you hesitated when he turned his head to look away, but you continued, placing it on his cheek and turning his visor slowly back toward you.

“It’s no different for me, Din. I don’t judge you for any of it.”

“Maybe you should.” His voice was low and flat.

You shook your head. “No. You’re protecting your aliit, what about that could ever be wrong?” (“Family/Clan.”)

He almost began to melt into your touch, his voice softening along with the hard lines of his posture. “I-”

“Uh-uh,” you shook your head again, grinning when he sighed in frustration, turning his gaze to anywhere but you. “You’re good at what you do, Din. Bounty hunting, piloting, taking care of Grogu, following leads to find the Jedi…. Taking care of me.” His visor landed back on you. “But you also need to take care of you. You have a lot of people who care about you, friends, family…. And we all just want you to be okay.” Your hand fell to rest on his chest plate, and you smiled when you did indeed feel his heart racing, along with deep, steady breaths. “So give yourself a break…. Eat….” You both chuckled softly. “Take a kriffing nap….” He hung his head, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “And then we can resume murder and mayhem after. It’ll wait. I promise.”

Glancing over at the carbonite chamber as the last of the vapor dissipated, your curiosity got the better of you. “Was he….”

“He’s alive,” Din grunted, turning his attention that way as well. “But whenever they take him off ice, he’ll wish he wasn’t.”

“What’s he wanted for, do you know?”

“What’s he not wanted for? That would be the easier answer. He’s done a little bit of everything. But he was really big on the smuggling scene.”

Tilting your head as you studied the criminal's face, stuck in a permanent scowl, your brows pinched together. 

Turning back to face you, Din tilted his head to match yours. “Why?”

Your eyes flicked up to his visor as you blinked a few times, trying to find the right words. “Why did someone like him have my puck…. and why would he chance it?” You turned your body fully toward Din. “If he’s evaded everyone including you for years, why risk running into a face to face with you just to get to me?”

“He wasn’t the brightest, maybe he didn’t know I’d be here-”

“Did you remove his stuff before you froze him? His belt?”

Without asking further questions, Din led you over to a crate by the chamber, lifting up a belt with a blaster and a few pouches. You took it, looking through the pouches, emptying the contents, grimacing when you pulled out a few small containers of spice, some death sticks, a small flask that you sniffed out of curiosity - spotchka - then, finally, what you were looking for…. A fob.

Pushing the button, it beeped continuously, making you quickly click it off. “That’s annoying.”

Out of the same pocket, Din pulled out a holopuck, holding it in his palm as he pushed the button with his thumb. A holo of your face popped up, spinning lazily in a circle along with the details of the bounty like the price, your last known location, and the date you were last seen there: Coruscant - Today.

“The price has gone up,” Din mumbled quietly. “Those scumbags on Arvala-7 said it was-”

“Where did they get that picture? It’s awful.” You looked up at Din as his visor turned down toward you. “I don’t look like that, do I?”

He let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking his head as he turned back to the puck, reading over the details. “It doesn’t say who issued the bounty, or why. No mention of me, either, so that explains him.” Din gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his head toward the frozen villain. 

“You’re saying they’d leave me alone, or at least more of them would, if they knew I was with you?”

He nodded. “Probably. There’s a code within the guild, unspoken but still, and there’s fear among quarry’s.” He shrugged. “I have enough of a reputation in both that people don’t usually mess with me unless the price is good.” Sighing he pressed the puck to shut it down, closing his fingers around it and lifting it up in reference as he spoke. “Unfortunately, this is starting to get that high.” He tucked it into his belt to keep for later.

“What about what started all this? My apartment and the Mando’a on the painting?” Floating the tracking fob above your flattened palm, you disassembled it without touching it once, smiling when small sparks shot out as some wires were pulled out of the circuits. Letting the parts crash to the floor with hollow pings once it was in shambles, you turned your attention back to Din, grinning with a shrug when he just stared at you.

Din watched you for a long moment, before he finally shook his head once at you in disbelief. “I think that was unrelated,” he finally said. “That was because you know me. Now that we know Gideon has been alive this whole time, it wouldn’t surprise me if he sent people.”

“So I may have two different bounties on me?” You collected all the parts of the fob into one pile with some lazy waves of your fingers. 

Din watched in amusement as you swept the floor in quite possibly the most absurd manner he’d ever seen. “No, but you may have two different groups searching for you.”

Directing them with your index finger, you set the parts on the crate by the illicit items you’d removed. “Great.”

You both looked at each other, a smirk climbing up your face as he slowly shook his head at you. “Let’s just hope neither one is particularly motivated.”

Xxx

A soft rhythmic knock tapped against the hull of the Crest a while later, making you and Din freeze as you straightened the ration stores after the kid’s deep dive that morning. Looking up and meeting the other’s gaze, Din finally jerked into motion, taking the few steps toward the ramp. 

Hand on your blaster as he pulled the lever to lower it, you moved in front of the bunk space, waving your hand in front of the panel to conceal a sleeping Grogu.

Before Din could say a word, you heard your mother’s voice quickly advancing up the ramp, his posture relaxing the closer her voice got. His shoulders stiffened when you heard a second voice mumble something lowly, stopping just out of your line of sight.

“Oh, don’t start that now,” your mom mumbled, backtracking before she quickly reached out and yanked on someone, causing some stumbling steps to follow her before you saw the face behind her come into view. 

“Dad?”

The scowl on your father's face melted when he saw you, the corners of his mouth quickly lifting up into a disbelieving grin. He whispered your name as you both closed the distance between you, wrapping the other in a hug, rocking side to side as it went on. “How I missed you. We’ve been so worried. Where have you been, nau ki'bas’ika?” (“Little light bug.”)

You froze immediately, pushing your father to arms length to meet his curious gaze. To your side you saw Din taking a few steps closer, his head tilted as he peered at your father.

“Was that…. Dad, you just spoke Mando’a.”

Realization crossed his features, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded. “Did I? I never knew that’s what that was. I just heard it once and I guess it stuck. It means firefly, right?”

You nodded. “‘Little light bug’, but close enough.”

“Where did you hear it?” Din finally spoke, his voice quiet but curious.

Your father pulled away from you, and walked over to stand by your mother. He gestured to you with his head as he began. “She was young, only maybe twelve at the time….”

Giggling, you ran from your father, darting through the crowded streets of your neighborhood. 

You were determined to make it to the shop at the end of the street. The old lady who worked there would give you sweets if you stopped by alone. She knew your parents didn’t want you to spoil your dinner, so she always feigned innocence when they were nearby, slipping you smaller treats under the counter on those days.

“Get back here!” Your fathers voice faded behind you, his laughter beginning to paint his words as he knew right where you were going. 

Glancing over your shoulder to see how close he’d gotten, you suddenly ran straight into a wall of metal, almost falling back on your seat, but two hands caught you just in time.

Looking up, you saw your own reflection staring back at you in the dark T of a menacing looking visor, surrounded by dark green paint. “Careful, little one,” a kind voice warned through some sort of processor.

Your father called your name a few times, quickly closing in, his eyes wide when he saw the man’s hands around your arms. “I’m so sorry, sir.” Taking you into his own arms quickly, kneeling in front of you, he cradled you into his shoulder. “Are you okay, firefly?”

The younger man laughed, and you thought it was such a happy sound. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Right in the path of this little one on her mission to somewhere obviously very important,” he chuckled. Reaching out, he patted your head, ruffling your hair. “Be careful next time, nau ki'bas’ika, little firefly. It’s best to go around people, not through them. A much nicer time for everyone involved.” With a gentle shake of his head, he turned and walked away.

“He looked a lot like you, actually. Well, your armor,” your father concluded, pointing to Din. 

You took a few steps over to the weapons locker and pulled out the green helmet you’d worn on Corvus. Looking into the T of the visor, you saw the reflection of your twelve year old self staring back at you, wide eyed and curious.

“That! It looked like that!” Pointing at the beskar in your hands, your father trailed off, his voice lowering to a whisper as his features screwed up in confusion. “Exactly like that. Wait. How did you….”

“Long story,” you sighed, setting the helmet back on the shelf.

Accepting your answer, your father moved on to the next topic. “How did you know that was Mando’a? You’ve never really been one for languages.”

Din had the audacity to let out a snort of laughter from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed easily over his chest.

Rolling your head to level a narrow glare on your Mandalorian, you signed to him in Tusken in an attempt to keep the conversation a little more private in the tiny hull of the Crest, “What?”

He shrugged. “Jee tinka soong…. nuh'la,” he responded in Huttese, your newest attempted language to tackle, slipping into Mando’a on the last word when he couldn’t think of the proper one in the first language. (“I think it’s…. funny.”)

“Dobrah koona tah seenga Wooky tah uba,” you threatened in Huttese. (“I am going to sing Wookie to you.”)

“Shyriiwook? Ni ne ru’ba’juri gar ibac su,” he replied in Mando’a, completely forgoing trying to maintain the Huttese. (“Shyriiwook? I have not taught you that yet.”)

“Uba tinka Jee joka?” (“You think I joke?”)

A clearing of a throat attempted to pull your attention away, your mother’s small voice making you sigh as you continued to stare at Din. “Did I miss something?”

“No, mama,” with a roll of your eyes at Din, you turned to face your parents. “Just an inside joke.” You shot a glare back towards your armored companion. “Nothing important.” Bringing your eyes back to your father’s, you couldn’t help the smile you felt working up your face. “To answer your question, I guess I just never had a reason before.”

He arched a brow. “A reason?”

“Mando’a is the language of his people, well…. Of his Creed. It’s important to him, so it’s important to me.” You looked back over at Din, eyes narrowed. “Plus, he played dirty and started speaking to me only in Mando’a, so I kind of didn’t have a choice.”

“I did not-”

“After that,” you turned back to your parents, ignoring Din’s aggravated huff. “I wanted to learn because we’ve encountered so many different species and cultures…. I wanted to be able to communicate with them, even just a little bit.”

“Ah, so, ‘Help, I’ve lost my Mandalorian’ in what, seven different languages?” Your mom teased, smiling mischievously.

You laughed. “Something like that.”

Your mother closed the small space between you, resting her hands on your arms gently. “I’m so happy for you. You’re thriving.” The soft smile coloring her features quickly faded, concern clouding her eyes as they fell, mindlessly darting over your vambraces as she pulled back to hold your hands between you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Your apartment…. It…. It was burned. We…. We thought the worst, then someone from the bar brought in the note you left a few months ago saying you would be gone an unknown length of time. Between that and something about you throwing a lit bottle of alcohol across an alley causing an explosion,” Din groaned softly, cradling his forehead with his hand while your mother took a deep breath before continuing. “The authorities thought maybe you’d set the fire yourself and are looking for you.”

All you could do was blink, looking at your mother, but not really seeing a thing in front of your face. 

Everything in your apartment. Gone.

All the things Din had brought back for you, the memories….

Clearing your throat, you turned your gaze over onto Din, the weight of his patient stare behind his visor drawing lines up and down your face as he studied your reaction.

That place hadn’t really been home for a while now. Had stopped being home the minute you’d left that morning before stepping on board the Crest. And the ship, as much as it was a home for you now, was really just a place to come back to, four walls and roof. Wherever the little green goblin and his big shiny protector were, that was where you were meant to be.

You’re just happy he and the kid weren’t there. Things can be replaced. 

“When nothing happened after several weeks,” your dad picked up the story after giving you a moment of silence to process, “we hired a private investigator.”

At some point during the conversation, Din had floated silently over to stand right beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back in comfort. “That’s where the bounty on you came from.” His voice is low, barely enough to fill the space between the two of you, just enough to buzz from his modulator and tickle your ear. “They don’t care if you’re dead or alive, their job is just to find you.”

Before you could add anything to the conversation, your father came over to join the three of you. He stood toe to toe with Din, peering up at him seriously, and it was every bit as amusing as you thought it would be. “She’s safe with you?”

“Dad, it’s probably the safest place I can be.”

It’s as if they didn’t hear you, neither Din nor your father reacting to your words. They simply continued to stare one another down, your father having to crane his neck back just slightly to maintain eye contact with the Mandalorian. To his credit, only the corner of one eye was twitching, showing his fear under the weighty stare of beskar. 

“Your daughter is very capable herself, sir. She’s saved my life many times.”

Sir? Did Din just call someone sir? You needed to sit down.

As the Crest began to spin around you, the world obviously turning on its head since Din was calling people sir without a blaster to his head, it righted itself just a little bit when you realized the compliment he just paid you in the same breath. 

You’re capable. Capable. In Mandalorian speak that’s the same as calling you one of their own, or it’s pretty damn close. If anyone asked, that’s what you were going to tell them.

And voluntarily saying you’d saved his life? Granted, to your father, that probably wasn’t the best sell, life in peril and all, but! You were definitely telling people about this.

Your father arched a skeptical brow. “Is that so?”

Yes. Yes, it is. If anyone asks, just call me-

Din nodded. “And that of my son.”

….We were so close.

As if waiting for his cue, the bunk door hissed open, revealing the empty chamber, before Grogu peeked out over the edge of the hammock, drawing all eyes to him. Your mother melted instantly, prattling nonsense as she rushed over to him and picked him up.

“He’s like me, mom.” She narrowed her brows in confusion, so you reached into the pocket on Din’s belt and pulled out the ball. “Grogu? Help me out here?” 

The child’s eyes went wide when he saw his toy, and he immediately reached out for it, causing it to fly through the air to his waiting palm. Both of your parents' eyes went wide at him, before they looked at each other, then at Din. “It’s okay. He knows, too. We’re trying to get the kid to a Jedi so he can be trained.”

“There are still some left?” Your mother asked genuinely but looked at Grogu the whole time, her finger fiddling with the front of his robe.

How to answer? 

‘Yes, we just met one and helped her take over a corrupted city to give back to the people’? 

‘Yes, we just met one, and she taught me how to jump on top of really tall stuff’? 

‘Yes, we just met one and she said she can’t help the kid because of his attachment to Din, not to mention me, and my vision dream memory things have something to do with the kyber crystal in my saber and a bond forged in the Force long before the three of us were born’? 

“Some.”

“Is that where you got that?” Your dad asked quietly, pointing to the saber on your belt. 

‘The voices brought me that while we hid in a supply closet and I saw a ten year old Din, a who knows how old Grogu, and a two year old me with both of you, not to mention something from the future involving the Mandalorians, and it all gave me a headache.’

‘The kyber led me to it, and after some vision thingies, I exploded some lights with a surge of Force power, and had to resist The Dark Side when Din almost drowned.’

“No, that found me at a black market port on Trask.”

“Found you?”

Don’t ask.

“Yeah. Like whoever torched my apartment.” You turned to Din beside you, his hand still firmly on your lower back. “I still need to go by there. Get my stash of credits from under the floor.”

“They found them,” your mom said. “That was another thing they thought was suspicious.”

“Of course they did,” you rolled your eyes. “Where are they now?”

“They are holding them as evidence.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Din said softly. 

“What are you going to do, break in and take it?” Your dad scoffed, Grogu squealing in your mom’s arms at his tone toward his own father. 

“No,” Din said pointedly as he tilted his head to the side, looking at your father skeptically. “I have a few contacts here who can take care of it for me.”

Your parents just gave you a look.

“He’s a bounty hunter, what do you expect?” You shook your head gently, not quite knowing what to say past that.

Oh now you’re quiet. Thanks, brain. 

Your dad shifted his weight for a moment before he took a deep breath. “You’re running from a bounty…. With a bounty hunter…. Forgive me, but….”

An anger began to roil in your stomach, your hands clenched in fists at your sides. The room started to fill with a low rumble, and you realized it was the sound of blood rushing in your ears. It was so loud, you could barely hear your voice when you began to speak in a low, even tone. “This all started before there was even a bounty to speak of, dad. This all started because I-”

You're stopped by a tug on your pant leg, pulling your focus down. Grogu’s tiny green face peered up at you, a wave of calm washing over you from the ground up, the low hum coming to an abrupt stop, and your hands releasing at your sides. You bent over to scoop him into your arms, holding him close to your chest.

“The weapons locker started to shake. And a few crates in the corner.” Din’s soft voice in your ear explained.

“Thank you, ad’ika,” you mumbled into the top of the child’s head, taking a moment before lifting your gaze back to your parents. “I’m here because I want to be, not just because of a bounty. When I told him I was coming with him - he didn’t ask - we didn’t even know someone might be looking for me until we got back to my apartment for me to grab a few things. That’s when we found it trashed and knew that I had to go with him, to be safe.”

Din turned to you, his voice still calm and low. “They torched it to burn the evidence.”

Your mother’s head snapped between the two of you a few times before her words came out in a rapid fire. “What evidence? Of what? What’s going on?”

With a heavy sigh, you turned your body slowly to face her, and lowered yourself to sit on a nearby crate, leaning forward to brace your elbows on your knees. Grogu perched on your lap, looking between all four of you as the conversation went on. “There are some people who aren’t very happy that Mando and I….” Your eyes fell to the floor of the Crest, searching for the proper words to complete the sentence. “….Get along. He used to come into the bar every few months, and would bring me something-”

“Oh he’s the one!” She cut you off with a broad smile, eyes darting over to your beskar clad companion. “The one that traveled the galaxy for you.”

You smiled shyly, looking up and over at Din where he’d sat close by, and quickly tucked your chin to your chest to try and hide the growing grin on your face. “Yeah. That was him.” You turned back to your mom. “Still is. The gifts are just…. A little different now. More practical.”

“Oh.” She smiled knowingly, if not somewhat sadly. “So he lost interest?”

Din choked, starting to cough as your eyes went wide, laughter bubbling up and out of your chest.

“No! No, no. Mom. We just…. Like we said, the apartment was burned to cover their tracks because they came after me to come after him. And they’re still coming. So now his gifts help keep me safe.” You traced the line of your left vambrace with your right index finger. “They have helped me find purpose on dark days and strength on hard ones.” Grogu’s hand came up to rest on your vambrace, intersecting your fingers' path, making you smile. “It’s very different, yes, but not anything less, just…. They’ve adjusted to fit the current needs.”

“Running for your life?”

You understood their skepticism. You really did. People only want what’s best for their children, and you can see why this isn’t it for them. On the run, in an old ship, with someone they consider dangerous and a stranger, your life on the line for a few credits….

But you’ve never been more sure of what you're doing in your life.

“Protecting my family.”

Xxx

Your parents had insisted both of you stay the night with them. Something about them feeling guilty about the bounty and since you’d already been found near the Crest once…. You and Din weren’t going to turn down a real bed, there was no love lost between you and the thin bunk pad.

They left to get the room ready while you and Din collected a few necessities for the night.

“I’m going to go get a few things,” you said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Mesh’la, no. What do you need? I’ll go get them, you stay here and lock up the ship until I get back-”

“No!” You said a little too forcefully, correcting it with a softer, “No,” quickly after. “I’ll be fine, Din. I just…. Need some air, that’s all.”

He sighed. “Fine. But I’m meeting my contact here with your credits in an hour. Be back by then so you can count them and make sure it’s all there.” You nodded, turning to go down the ramp when he caught your arm gently, making your turn back to look at his visor again, one brow raised. “Please.”

Offering a tight lipped smile, you nodded again, pulling your cloak over your shoulders as you descended the ramp. 

It was a quick little jog to the bar, just a few streets over, and you stood in the shadows near the entrance, waiting for Nem to show up. 

Looking all around, you saw the bright neon signs displaying their never ending messages in Aurebesh, flashing images of products or faces of spokespersons for milliseconds before moving on to the next. This used to be comforting to you, familiar, but now, after seeing green, and life, space as far as you could see…. You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

The sign for the bar flickered above you, pulling your eyes up to it in amusement. They still hadn’t fixed it. Pulling your eyes up further still, you saw the lines of speeders zooming past above, flickers of finely dressed men and women going about their days without a second glance down to the grunge below. Growing up on the lower levels, you learned that sometimes the best things are hidden, tucked away where you’ll never find them unless you really look. Anytime you entered a new atmosphere on the Crest, you found your eyes instantly pulled downward, scanning the surface for all its secrets. And so far…. You hadn’t been disappointed.

Laughter broke your revere, your focus coming back down in front of you as you saw Nem walking up to the bar with a group of other regulars.

Jostling a nearby pile of trash with a little nudge from your mind, you saw Nem’s eyes dart your way, widening in recognition when he saw you. He opened his arms wide like he was about to make some announcement, but stopped when you shook your head ever so slightly at him.

“Ah…. Hmmm…. You know what, guys? You go ahead. Order a spotchka for me.” He slapped his friends on the back as he started to pull away from the group.

“Where are you going?” Some deep, gravelly voice asked.

“Gotta take a piss,” he pulled a face, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb, then smiling when they all guffawed before waving him off and disappearing inside. 

Once he was within reach, you pulled him into the alley by his collar, pinning him against the wall by your vambrace at his neck.

He grunted at the impact, but smiled down at you. “Hey, you. Nice to know you’re alive. No ‘hi’? ‘Hello’? ‘How’re you doing, Nem?’ Oh I’m just fine, thanks for asking….” His voice trailed off tightly at the end as you applied a little more pressure with your armored forearm. He reached up, tapping it with one hand as he ground out, “Okay. I get it. I yield, or whatever. Just…. Stop.”

You eased back a bit, rolling your eyes when he took dramatic breaths. Shoving his shoulders against the wall, you took a small step back.

“Are those beskar?” He eyed your vambraces, rubbing his neck with a grimace. A mischievous smile wound up his face, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit alley. “I take it you found your Mandalorian.”

“He wasn’t lost,” you grumbled. “Cut the shit, Nem.” He chuckled. “Just tell me where I can find other Mandalorians.”

“Why, you got a thing for them or something?” Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, it melted into a grimace and a groan when you pushed him back up against the wall, vambrace against his throat again. “Okay, okay! Kriff, you need a drink. Hell, I need a drink. Um, I don’t know?”

Pulling him forward by his shirt before you slammed him back into the wall again, he began to protest quickly.

“I don’t know!” He almost yelled, lowering his voice after you gave him a warning look. “I don’t know. Really, I don’t. I heard about the shiny one on Sorgan purely by chance, right place right time, and I haven’t heard a thing since. They are a really reclusive bunch, Mando’s. And I don’t blame them.”

“So you know nothing?” You reiterated after a moment, all your hopes dropping to the ground around you.

“Not a thing,” he verified, his expression sincere. 

“I find that hard to believe,” you hissed. “Your nose is always where it doesn’t belong, in everybody’s business.” Leaning into him again, your voice dropped a bit deeper. “Tell me.”

The smirk twisted back up his face. “You’re so funny. Come on, let’s get a drink.” He went to push off the wall when a shadow moved over both of you from behind you and his eyes went wide as he froze, staring over your shoulder.

“I suggest you do what she says, before I start asking.” You smirked at the familiar modulated voice.

You tilted your head at Nem. “You won’t like it when he asks. Much less pleasant.” You dug the vambrace in slightly on the last word to prove your point. 

“Fine, fine,” Nem hissed after a long minute, reaching up to try and pull your beskar away, grunting when it didn’t work. “I wasn’t listening. Ask me again.” 

Din grunted, his modulator coming right by your ear, but his tone far from something to keep Nem from overhearing. “Before you let him go, I just need one minute alone with him, mesh’la.” 

Glancing at his helmet as it almost rested on your shoulder, you teasingly warned, “Mando….” 

“He won’t die, don’t worry.”

Nem swallowed roughly. “Can I worry?” He asked, raising his hand as if you needed to know who was speaking. 

You slammed him into the wall again. “Talk.”

Xxx

Credits tucked safely onboard the Crest, you turned to Din as the ramp sealed shut behind you, beginning the trek to your parents apartment. 

They had stopped Din before he could lower the ramp, your mother’s hand over his on the lever. She didn’t even flinch when he turned his visor down to look at her in question.

“What do we call you?”

“Just call him Mando,” you jumped in. “Names are something special in Mandalorian culture, like their face. You don’t go around just sharing it with the galaxy.”

Your mother smiled, turning back to Din as she gave his hand a gentle pat. “Well, we would be honored if you called us by our names. I’m Leera, and this is my husband, Dero.”

After a moment, Din nodded, his glove creaking as his grip over the lever tightened. “Din.” Your mother tilted her head at him curiously. “My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

Your father extended his hand, gripping the inside of Din’s forearm as the Mandalorian gripped his. “Nice to meet you, Din.”

“Nice to meet you, Dero.” He nodded to your mom. “Leera.”

Your mother smiled back at him so wide, you thought her face might crack.

“Please tell me Nem walked away, at least.”

Din tossed his head side to side for a moment. “I can tell you he limped away….”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you continued on in comfortable silence for a long moment.

“How’d you know I’d be at the bar?”

“I followed you from the ship, for one.”

“Really? I was careful! I made sure and kept checking…. I didn’t see you.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Like I said earlier, no one who knows their target knows they’re there gets that close. That’s just stupid.”

You shook your head as a soft snort of laughter escaped through your nose. “Not everyone is you, Din.”

“No, they are not,” he said proudly, turning to look at you with an affectionate tilt of his head when you threw your head back laughing loudly.

Linking your arm through his as you leaned into his side, you grinned. “So humble.”

“That’s why my armor is so shiny. Humility.”

You groaned at the joke, but looked up at him in amusement nonetheless. “That has to be it.”

Xxx

Din walked into the bedroom at your parents, Grogu propped in one arm, stopping just inside the threshold as the door slid shut behind him.

You stood up straight from where you were digging in your satchel, bent over the bed. “What?” 

It took Din a few seconds to answer, his visor giving you a once over from head to toe slowly, making a smile tug at the corners of your lips. Opting to go barefoot while in your childhood home, you had to admit it probably looked a little odd to go from bare feet up to beskar on your forearms. You wanted to be safe, but you could protect the ones you loved while feeling the plush of carpet between your toes, couldn’t you?

Din shook his head then continued. “I just had a very…. Interesting conversation with your dad.”

“Oh no.” You turned to fully face him, hands going to your hips. “What’d he say?”

Din sighed, walking further into the room to set the kid down. “Well….”

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Din muttered to Grogu, walking quickly toward the kitchen. “Of course you’ve already eaten all the ration packets I packed. How did you even get into that bag anyway?”

Looking down at the tiny face in his arms, laughing softly at the babbled coos he got in response, Din nodded. “Okay. Perfectly acceptable answer. Just next time, save some for us, okay kid?” He swore the child rolled his eyes at him.

Stepping into the kitchen, he didn’t bother to turn on the lights, able to see just fine with his display in his helmet, and the kids' eyes were big enough to see in the dark. Grabbing a piece of fruit off the table, Din recognized it as the same kind you’d gotten on Nevarro, and he smiled.

Grogu let out an unamused huff, making him chuckle softly. “Hey. I promise, kid. You’re gonna love it.” When Grogu still watched the fruit with a skeptical eye, Din tried a different tactic. “Your buir loves them. She’s the one that found them,” he lilted temptingly. (“Mother.”)

He saw the kids eyes widen comically before he reached eagerly for the brightly colored fruit. Quickly grabbing the corner of his cape to dab at the juice streaming down Grogu’s face, he floundered for a minute, letting out a sigh as he reached for a nearby towel. “Come on, kid. Some of it is supposed to be in your mouth.”

The lights suddenly flicked on, making Din spin around on high alert, finding your dad standing in the doorway. 

The only sound for a solid minute was Grogu’s happy squeal followed by gentle babbles as he reached for another piece of fruit. Your father stared at Din who stared right back, not even a twitch of an eyebrow was given, until your father finally gave a sigh that sounded very much like yours.

“Why are you skulking in the shadows, son?”

Din shifted his weight from side to side, pondering his response before stumbling out, “I... I'm not? I'm feeding the baby?” To be honest, his brain had short circuited at being called ‘son’. He’d been called a lot of things over the years, but that had never been one of them. Not since…. Not since before the Creed.

Your mother shuffled in, squinting at the bright lights as she looked around, taking in the scene. After a few steps, she took the fruit from Grogu, raising a brow at his squawk in protest, the arch reminding Din every bit of yours, and amazingly Grogu settled right down under its weight. Shuffling over to the counter, she began to slice the fruit up properly. "How old is the little guy?" She looked over her shoulder when Din didn’t answer at first, gesturing to the table with a tilt of her head before resuming her task.

Din was quick to obey, pulling out a seat to sit for himself, and placing Grogu in his lap, responding as a plate covered in easier to manage slices was slid in front of the little troublemaker. "Fifty."

If Din could capture the look on your parents’ faces to show you, he would. It was priceless. All they did was blink way too much and stare at the child as he munched happily on the sweet snack. Your mother had hesitated before falling back into a chair across from him, while your father shifted his weight to one side, his head shaking slightly in disbelief as he looked at the child with furrowed brows.

“Portions,” your mother mumbled, pointing at Grogu as she cleared her throat and gave her head a little shake. “Smaller portions, easier to chew bites. It’ll make him eat slower, which might help him eat less.” Din tilted his head to the side as he held her gaze, before looking down at the child who smiled up at him broadly. “I heard you grumbling to him in the hall about the ration packs,” she explained.

Nodding, Din lifted his visor back up to hold her gaze. “Thank you,” he kept his voice soft. “Mesh’l- uh, your daughter tries to do that as much as possible with the packets. Insists on hand feeding him if she can, to slow him down. I, ah,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I tend to forget, and just hand him the whole thing.”

Your mother smiled, pushing against the table to get back to her feet. “You’ll figure it out eventually.” She gave her husband’s chest a loving pat on her way out the door before leaving the two men once again in silence.

Din watched curiously as your father made his way over to the table, taking the seat your mother had been in. Leaning back, he looked at the Mandalorian down his nose, his eyes narrowed skeptically.

After several long minutes, Din finally sighed. “What are you doing?”

“...trying to be intimidating. Is it working?” There was no hesitation in his answer, coming immediately after Din’s question like it had been expected.

Din tossed his head from side to side as he weighed his answer. “Kind of.”

Your father bobbed his head in an approving nod. “Good.”

Another few minutes of silence settled between them, but this time it sat more comfortably.

Finally, your father shifted in his seat, relaxing his shoulders as he let out a long breath. “I’m not going to ask you any questions. Frankly, there’s a lot I want to know, don’t get me wrong, but…. Quite honestly, you scare me too much for any of that.”

Smiling under the helmet, Din looked down at Grogu to give the man a break from the intimidating visor.

When your father spoke again, his voice had softened considerably. “She’s my little girl.”

Din lifted his head just slightly to find the man looking at him with a remarkably sincere expression. “Just…. Just promise me she’s safe, that she will continue to be…. And we’ll leave it at that.”

Raising his head the rest of the way so he could look at your father straight on, Din answered with as steady a voice as he could muster. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she stays safe and sound. You have my word.”

The two men shared a nod of understanding before Din added one last thought.

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” (“Family is more than blood.”)

Your father asked what that meant, eyes widening only slightly when Din explained. Nodding once again, his eyes fell to the table top as he muttered a quiet, “I see.” After a long moment, he began quietly, keeping his eyes down, “I noticed that same symbol from your armor on her weapons. Is that….?”

“My signet. The sign of my clan.”

He bobbed his head again slowly, the only reaction that seemed applicable in this situation, so he kept applying it. “Is it a large clan?”

“It’s a clan of three.”

“Just three?” Your father tilted his head to the side as he studied the Mandalorian.

“All we’ve needed.”

He continued to nod in acceptance, moving the conversation along. “What are your plans after you’ve gotten this one to the Jedi?” He pointed at Grogu, smiling as he watched the little green ward lick the fruit juice off the now empty plate.

Din hesitated, taking the plate from the kid and wiping his face off with the towel still in his hands, ignoring his whines of protest. “We haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Your father’s voice had dropped even softer in understanding. “But they involve her.”

Din chose his words carefully, not wanting to do anything to harm the delicate balance he found himself in with your father. He’d thought about this a lot. Since before you even came on the Crest. “All of my plans from this point forward involve her. In some form or another…. They have for a long time.”

The other man grimaced but quickly tried to hide it. “Bounty hunting?”

Din thought for a moment before answering honestly. “Hopefully living.”

“I’ve done a lot of terrifying things, like fighting the mudhorn I thought was going to kill me…. And that conversation was worse.”

You were sitting on the foot of the bed, a hand over your mouth as you tried very hard not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” he deadpanned, looking down at you with the flattest expression you’d ever seen from the expressionless visor.

“I didn’t say anything!” You held your hands up by your head in surrender, melting into small giggles after a moment under the weight of his stare. “It’s a little bit funny,” you countered.

Din walked around the bed without a word, setting Grogu down near the pillows.

“You know, I get it from him.”

“Get what?” Din asked after another long moment, his voice dripping with a ‘why did I ask’ tone.

“The Force. He's more matters of the mind than physical manifestations, though. He’s what you call Force sensitive, he can feel it more than others, and can manipulate it to a degree, but, not like….” You turned at the sound of giggling, finding Grogu floating through the air, slowly turning end over end. “Not like that.”

Din turned away from his levitating son as if it were just another day in the life - which, to be fair, it was -  and focused on the matter at hand. “Are you telling me he could read my mind, mesh’la?” He hissed the last few words at you, hands on his hips.

“I’m saying he could? If he wanted to? Why, were you thinking about something you shouldn’t be?”

Din’s weight shifted under your question. He hadn’t told you the whole conversation.

“Hopefully living.”

Suddenly he’s transported back to a dream he once had of a quiet life on a secluded planet, somewhere deep in the woods with you and the kid. The kids. 

The smell of something warm simmering on the stove, the peals of laughter around the corner, a soft breeze promising a shift in the weather soon the biggest of his worries.

No bounties, no Creed in the way, just life.

And instantly that dream world is tinted with shame.

He’ll never be able to provide that for you or the kid. And even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it with you. That’s not how his life worked. He didn’t get to settle down, away from problems. They always came to him. And he wouldn’t do that to you or the kid.

“It’s a hard life, bounty hunting,” your father pulled his focus back. “But if you haven’t noticed by now, she’s a tough soul. I’d dare say her heart is made of beskar.” What was he getting at? “Wherever you go, that’s where she will be. That’s how she works, what makes her happiest. Best not to fight it.”

“No,” Din finally answered. “No, I was thinking about you, is all.”

“Only good things, I hope,” you grinned at him, your eyes narrowing mischievously. “Appropriate things.”

“Oh, of course,” he teased. “The way you looked in that armor on Corvus, that’s appropriate, right?”

“Stop,” you chuckled, moving to start turning down the bed.

“And the way you tackled that guard from the roof? Or how about the way you just decided to confiscate the asshole’s gun to piss me off?” He tilted his head when you looked at him over your shoulder. “Any of those okay?”

“You didn’t.” Turning to him with a huff, you closed your eyes with a groan.

He waited until you peeked one eye open at him before he answered playfully. “No. I didn’t.”

“You little….” You reached out, giving his shoulder a shove.

“Little?” He chuckled, trying to grab your wrists to stop your onslaught.

“Sometimes you’re such a pain in my ass, Din.” Grabbing his cowl, you tugged him closer, fighting the grin trying desperately to climb up your face. “Kriff.” Tugging down on the material, his forehead came to rest on yours with a soft thunk. “So annoying.”

“Shi par gar,” Din mumbled quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in closer to him. (“Only for you.”)

The quiet moment was interrupted when the kid stopped his tumble through the air by landing firmly on Din’s helmet, patting the top of your head with his hand affectionately.

Hinging your head back until it rested against the top of your shoulders, you peered up at the little green minion. “You, too, tiny. You and your dad have meetings or something to plot your next tactics?” You smiled at Din’s hummed, “Mmm-hmm.” Untangling yourself from your Mandalorian, you reached up to pull Grogu down. “Time for bed, ad’ika.” You set him on the bed before you walked back up to the pile of pillows at the top. “Help me get these off? We can use some of them to make a bed for the kid.”

Nodding, Din went around to the other side of the bed, starting to sort through the mass of pillows. “Now I know where you get your love of pillows from.”

“Don’t you even dare,” you turn a half hearted glare up at him. “I love a pillow, not a mountain of them.”

He held his hands up in surrender, a pillow hanging limply in one hand. “It came from somewhere.”

“You’re going to be going somewhere if you don’t stop,” you grumbled, throwing a pillow at his chest with more force than necessary.

Din handed you the simpler pillows as you swapped them out for the decorative ones, smiling gently at him while you exchanged the soft materials. 

Turning to the bedside table you’d cleared, the lamp now on the floor, casting its light onto the ceiling at an odd angle, you arranged the pillows into a makeshift bed for the kid. “There, ad’ika. How’s that?”

Grogu looked at it from his perch on the bed, then at you, squealing when Din came around with a chuckle and picked him up silently. With a few quick steps, the child was seated on his throne of plush, patting it inquisitively with his hands, tilting his head as he peered down at it.

“Get comfy, kid. You gotta stay the whole night there. No wandering around here. We don’t know who might be watching.”

Turning narrowed eyes up toward Din, you crossed your arms over your chest. “This is my childhood home. We’re plenty safe.”

“Not if anyone else has a fob.”

You scoffed, arms falling to your sides. “Oh, come on. They wouldn’t really try to come in-”

“They would.”

“How do you-”

“I would.”

You simply stared at his visor for a long moment, a sudden scraping sound pulling your focus back toward the child.

He’d pried the drawer on the front open, stuffing one of the pillows inside so it was haphazardly sticking out the side, and curled up in its center with a contented smile. 

“Well. Okay. I guess that works,” you mumbled.

Din walked over to the other side table, taking out the holopuck from the compartment on his belt and set it on the flat surface. With a quick press, all your information spun in black and white above the little device. 

You crawled across the bed to get a closer look. “Anything changed?”

“Now it mentions me,” he sighed. “I don’t know how they are getting their info so fast, but it’s impressive. Must be tied into the mainframe here, or something, direct access to security footage with recognition software….” He paused at your confused expression. “They have eyes and ears everywhere.” He turned back to the display. “The price has gone up, too.”

“That’s not my parents. They don’t have that kind of money.”

“No, I know. It’s who they hired. But I’m just confused why they want you so badly. As far as the local authorities are concerned, this is just a local smash and dash.” You chuckled at his choice of words, shrugging when he looked at you in question. “Unless….”

“Unless….” You encouraged him after a moment.

“No….” He took a deep breath. “Unless Gideon is in on it.”

“That would make more sense.” You reached out, shutting the puck down before getting under the covers. “And I take it that means you’re sleeping in your armor?”

He hesitated.

“You just said it-”

“I know what I said,” he snapped, huffing out a breath as his weight shifted to one side, his voice softening. “We’re several floors up, the building has security….”

“….and I’ll protect you if anybody is stupid enough to try something,” you finished for him. “I wear beskar, too.” You waved your arms a bit as if he needed to know what you meant. “And I’m pretty handy with a blaster.” Din grunted, making you scoff. “Just take off the weapons and your gloves, at least. Your jet pack. Cape. And you don’t need your boots to shoot someone. You have a real bed for one night, and I’d feel horrible if I knew you didn’t get to rest your back because of me.”

Din made his way around the bed, hovering on his side between you and the child. He stared at you for a long moment before finally muttering, “ My back…. It’s not-”

“You groan every time you sit down on the Crest.”

Suppressing it as best he could, Din groaned softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, making you snicker. “I do not-”

Doing your best imitation of his deepest complaint, you groaned heavily, repeating the noise every time he tried to continue talking. Finally a glove free hand came over your mouth, cutting your latest attempt short, and your eyes shot open to find his visor inches from your face.

“Would you stop? Your parents are going to think I’m murdering you, or something.”

Your lips quirked under his hand. “Or something,” you mumbled against his palm, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

It took a moment, but Din let out a low groan as his hand twitched, his weight shifting beside you on the bed, making you laugh softly.

“What’s the matter, Mando? Firefly got your tongue?” Your voice was muffled under his hand.

Shaking his head at you, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking his boots off. 

Scooting up behind him, you eased your hands over his shoulders. “Can I help?”

Din took a shallow breath before he nodded once, sitting up straighter and reaching for the front of his cowl. He unfastened it, letting it pool behind him into your waiting hands, where you folded it and set it next to the holopuck. Next you gently disengaged the jet pack, lifting it with a grunt as the weight settled into your hands then down to the floor by his boots with a soft thud.

Din chuckled softly at your small noise of effort, turning his head to look at you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, coming back up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. He still had one glove on, interrupted by your shenanigans, so you helped him ease that off.

His body relaxed in your grip as he let out a long breath, tossing the glove onto his boots.

“Why’d you give them your name?” You asked softly.

“Wanted to,” he said on a breath, his voice relaxed, words almost slurred as the day began to set in.

“But why? You only just met them. It took you years before you trusted me enough-”

“They’re important to you, which makes them important to me, too.” He turned his visor to look at you, his voice clear and soft. “And I trusted you from the moment I met you.”

“Then why-”

“Because that scared me.”

You tucked the bottom half of your face into the top of his shoulder, letting the words fully process. Never did you think about Din being afraid, much less at something so simple. But the more you thought about it, the less simple it became.

He was someone who stayed cut off from the rest of the galaxy, physically and emotionally. By choice and Creed. But then suddenly, he found himself stuck in the middle of a feeling he was unfamiliar with, something new, and challenging.

For someone who had an admittedly usually violent solution for everything, you could see how this would be unsettling.

Unable to help the small tug of your lips upward at the thought, you decided to change the subject. “What do we do from here?”

“We go to Tython.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even with the bounty?”

“You’ve had a bounty on you this entire time.”

“Thanks for reminding me. I’d totally forgotten,” you grumbled. “But you know what I mean! Now that it’s higher, and they obviously know what I’m doing, watching me- us. I’m not willing to put the kid, or you, for that matter, at risk-”

“It’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Now they know I’m here. Even the dullest crook will think twice before taking a shot.”

Turning your face into his neck, you mumbled against his flight suit, “You’re just saying that so you can get out of another piece of armor to let your back relax more.”

“Maybe.” He drug out the word in a ridiculous way.

Rolling your eyes, you looked around the room to make sure everything was settled, your eyes landing on the windows across the way. “You know, this is Coruscant.”

“It is?” He sounded genuinely shocked.

You cut your eyes over to him in a short lived glare. “Every room has blackout curtains to block out the city lights. I know you want to stay ready, but…. If ever there was a place you could feel safe taking off your helmet, it’d be here.” You started gesturing with your hands as you spoke, your face a wide array of expressions as you tried to convince your Mandalorian. “It gets pitch black, like the Crest, darker even, since there aren’t any panels blinking on the walls. I’m not asking you to,” you hurriedly clarified, waving your hands in front of both him and yourself as you were still wrapped around him. “I’m just letting you know, since it’s been a while since you really got to spend some time out of that thing.”

When he didn’t answer, you added on, “I can leave the room.” Pointing over your shoulder towards the door, you shifted that way slightly. “Go to the kitchen, take a bath -hell, there’s even another guest room, I could-”

Suddenly the room was moving as he maneuvered out of your grip, rotating so his lower half was still hanging off the bed, his upper half holding you down. He’d turned onto his hip, his hands gently gripped your wrists on either side of your head, thumbs tracing over the skin in soothing lines while he peered down at you from inches away. Your chests bumped one another with every deeper breath, and you noticed he started to take, deep, even breaths with a smirk.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, he beat you to it. 

“Don’t go.” He tilted his head to the side just slightly, his voice low and playful. “Because if you go, then I follow you, then the kid comes- it’s a whole thing.”

“But-”

“I’m fine, mesh’la.”

“Okay,” you agreed, not believing a word of it.

The two of you stayed in that position for a long time, the only change when his forehead lightly came to rest on yours. Gently tugging your hands free after a while, he moved to get up, but you were quick to circle them around his neck, keeping him close.

“No, don’t move. Not yet.” Moving one hand, you began to knead it softly into his neck, smiling when he groaned and relaxed further into your touch. “You’re fine, huh?”

Incoherent grumbling vibrated out of the modulator next to your ear where his head had fallen, tucked into your neck.

“If you’re not gonna take it off- any of it- because I’m here, or because it a whole thing, or the bounty,” he grunted for you to go on, making you chuckle softly, starting to knead your other hand in as well, making him go slack into the mattress below the both of you. “As I was saying, if you can’t, then I’ll make it work.” Digging in on a particularly bad knot, you focused on it while you mused, “I think this one is specifically from that conversation with my dad.”

“Probably,” he moaned, his helmet basically pressed into the mattress by your head, only a bit of his weight on you, most on his hip. “I was so tense the whole time. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“Din Djarin out of his depth?” You playfully gasped, melting into giggles when his hand came and pinched your side in retribution.

“If it’s any consolation, you handled it exactly right,” you said. “Dad passed by in the hall right before you came back and I could sense the pride coming off of him. The content. You made him happy.”

“He could have told me,” Din grumbled. “Would have been nice to know.”

“I just told you,” you chuckled, your hands pulling away from his neck as he moaned in protest, only to groan in gratitude when they landed on his lower back and began to knead on the tension there. “You really need to invest in a better sleeping pad for the Crest. What’s there now is ruining your back.”

“What’s ruining my back is being an old man in armor.”

You stopped your movements, and he whined like a child. “Oh, because that’s the sound an old man makes.” Tilting your head, you tried to catch his gaze as he turned his visor just slightly toward you to glare, you could feel it.

“If I agree with you, will you continue?” He all but ground out, a little more of his weight relaxing onto you.

“What do you think?”

“That’s the problem. What you’re doing is making it hard to think. So just tell me, please.” He turned his head a bit more towards you. “Have mercy on an old man.”

You scoffed, starting your ministrations again as he let out a grateful sigh. “You’re not old. The kid is old. ….I can’t believe that sentence just left my mouth.” He chuckled. “Or that it made sense.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not. And you’re right, the sleeping pad is getting a bit threadbare. I’ll pick up a new one before we leave tomorrow.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you dug in especially hard to a knot. “You’re just saying that because of what I’m doing, aren’t you?”

He groaned happily, nodding his head. “You want a bantha?” You choked on a laugh. “Now would be the time to ask.”

You let out a snort of laughter. “So anything I want, it’s mine?”

“Try me.” He didn’t even hesitate.

“That’s not a yes.”

“You’re very observant.”

“I don’t know if you’re very brave or very dumb to be messing with the person who is not only being nice to you, but being nice to you by digging their fingers into your most painful areas.” You pressed on a large knot with extra pressure for emphasis, rolling your eyes when he only went completely lax in your arms from glee. “Option three, then. Smart. You’re a smart man, apparently.”

“What does that make you?”

“How do you mean?”

“You fell for this smart man’s tricks. What does that make you?”

“Do you really want to go down this road, Din?”

“I’m wearing armor. I can handle it.”

And the two fold meaning of his words sunk in. Even if he didn’t mean it that way, it was how this whole conversation started. Feeling for you had scared him. The man in the beskar armor was afraid of the way he felt inside his chest. Something under his armor, behind his defenses. It must have felt almost like a betrayal.

Pulling your hands up to cup his cheeks, ignoring his almost whine of protest, you turned more on your side, rolling him more so as well in the process.

“I’m sorry I scared you, years ago.”

“What do you-”

“You’re right. You do wear armor. And I can only imagine how it felt to have something break past those defenses.” 

It was nearly silent as you studied his visor, your reflection staring back at you in the low light. The only sounds were Grogu’s snoring, the muted drone of traffic several levels up, the quiet lull of street noises from below, and both of your quiet breaths.

“I hope you know you don’t have to keep wearing it for me.” Your eyes flitted between his, despite the visor. Somehow you knew. “If you want to, that’s okay. I understand. That’s part of who you are. But….” You took a surprisingly shaky breath, and his hand came to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing soothing patterns while he waited for you to finish. You had to screw your eyes shut to focus on the last few words. “But I just wanted you to know. I’d be your armor if you needed- wanted me to.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, the darkness so much easier to hide in. How ironic, since you had just offered him a way out of something similar.

The next thing you knew, the cool touch of beskar against your forehead for the third time tonight made you take in a shuddering breath.

“I’d like that,” you heard him rumble lowly, making you smile. 

A long moment passed with just the two of you and shared space before you finally opened your eyes. “What’s going on in there, Tin Can?”

Din huffed out a soft laugh as he gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “I can’t decide which is prettier armor. You or beskar.”

Your arched brows of curiosity fell flat along with your tone. “Really?”

“You asked.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Okay. Moment’s over.” You pushed away from him, your hands already resting on his chest pressing him onto his back in the process.

“Mesh’la, come on. I was only teasing,” Din protested over a laugh, reaching a hand after you as you got under the covers.

You looked up at him, unimpressed. “If you say, ‘we both know it’s the beskar’, joke or not, so help me, a bad bed roll will be the least of your back pain worries.”

His hand recoiled slightly as if you had burned him. “Okay, that’s fair.”

You smirked. “I thought so.”

Din settled in under the light covers beside you, leaving the lamp on the floor by Grogu on. You were about to ask him if he could turn it off when you noticed him sitting up and looking at you.

“Truce?” He asked softly.

“Truce,” you grumbled after a minute, sighing. Mirroring him, you sat up and cocked your head to the side. “What?”

“Why do they call you firefly?”

A fond smile worked its way up your face, growing the more you thought about the nickname. Staring at the blanket, you worried a loose string between your fingers as you spoke. 

“There’s not much life here on Coruscant, at least not naturally. People, beings, yes. But life…. No. We have a few parks the higher up you go, and at one point, someone tried to introduce wildlife into them. Nothing fancy, just some basic bugs and stuff from various planets so visiting senators could feel a little more at home.”

Grogu snored abruptly, pulling your eyes his way before they turned back to the visor still watching you intently. “I think he’s gone into a food coma.”

Din chuckled, looking at the child before leaning back against the headboard, hands behind his head as he relaxed. “Probably.” After he let out an easy breath, he gestured to you with a quick jut of his chin. “Continue.”

“What? Oh. Yes. Um.” Rolling the thread back and forth once again, you continued. “So anyway, down here, as you can tell from our wonderful and colorful streets here in the Uscru District, they didn’t do anything this low. There aren’t any parks for miles until you get closer to the atmosphere. Something about the ‘quality of air needed for life’, bantha shit because they could have cleaned it up for the citizens but I think they just don’t have a clean up crew brave enough to come down this far-” You took a deep breath.

“Sorry. Not the point. Anyway.” Din chuckled as you went on. “I was a kid, maybe ten? I’d sneak out on the roof to look up at the lanes of traffic overhead, pretend they were shooting stars. Sometimes they’d fly low enough I could just glimpse their clothes, usually brilliant ball gowns most likely headed for the senate or some fantastic party. The opera house is in the upper levels of the district, so more than likely they were headed there. I’d make up little stories for them, narrating what I thought they were saying, kriff, I was a weird kid.” Your palm slammed against your forehead as your chin tucked toward your chest, trying to hide your face.

A gloveless hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling it away gently. “No. That is a weird kid,” Din tilted his head toward Grogu behind him, making you smile. His fingers wove tightly through yours, and he brought your joined hands to rest softly on his knee. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, you did. “So one night I was out there, and I saw this trail of light almost like sparks getting closer and closer. Bobbing and weaving through the traffic like it had a mind of its own…. A speeder burst through the cloud and I thought for sure they would finally dissipate, but they sprang back together and kept going. It was like they had come just for me. They came straight to me, and swirled around me in a single line. I was so still, I had no idea what was going on. Of course my mom chose this moment to let me know she’d always known I went on the roof, and she’d always kept an eye on me when I had. She came out and explained what they were. Fireflies. From one of the parks. Once I realized it was something safe, I let my guard down, and I could feel them. There’s a connection with living things through the Force you just can’t mimic no matter how lifelike you make the technology.”

Din’s head was tilted fondly at you when you finally looked back up at him. “So that’s the story. It just kind of stuck.”

“Did you ever see the fireflies again?”

A wide grin broke out on your face. “Every night. They came for weeks. That was when I started really using my abilities for the first time. They offered me a connection to the Force I didn’t feel any other way, and I was able to grab that and focus on it, training my Force muscles, if you will.”

Din was silent for a long moment, and you were pretty sure he’d fallen asleep until he finally mused quietly, “After Tython, we’ll go somewhere with fireflies.”

Xxx

Tags: @ren-ni, @hoodedbirdie, @rennalouise, @kurlyfrasier, @what-the-heckin-heck, @deceiverofgodss, @littleshadow17, @nghtwngs, @yourcoolauntie, @queenmalhinewahine, @lam-ila, @jesseeka, @come-hell-or-eldren-fire, @creativeautistic, @lemonsandraspberries, @heyitsaloy, @987coley, @marvel-sw-lover, @just-shut-up-kid, @atlas-iswatching, @multifandomsw, @oliviajdjarin​, @eeopxlt​, @tomskookie​, @venusacrossthestars​, @sanscas​, @veralii​, @a-rose-of-amber​, @i-own-loki​, @lil-writer-523​, @starry-supernova​, @qweenrogerina​, @darkenwolfie​, @mischiefnevermanaged94​, @tragerlover​, @pxl8ed​, @peonyophelia, @fullmoonshadowwrites​, @Itsavicf, @professionalfangrrl​​, @immortalbloodhuntress​​​, @scentedthingtidalwave​, @reiya-djarin​, @canvasandclay333​, @fordo-kixed-rex​, @jxvipike​, @anidiotwhoreads​, @sgt-morgan​, @krussyfed, @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker​, @local-mr-frog​, @itzagothamcitysiren​, @jellybeanstacey0519​, @piratequeen-impact​, @cheoriemoawa​, @crazyworldofsiani​, @luvmeijii​, @magic-without-bloop​, @warmdragonfly​, @ponyboys-sunsets​, @dilfsaremyfavourite​, @hello-th3r3​, @thereaperisabitch​, @seventhomen​, @clichedream, @momc95​, @zanzann​, @witch-of-the-teapot​, @h-owlpost​, @djarintreble​, @jamiethenerdymonster​, @chaimantis​, @nerdgirl-21​, @myloveistoolittle​, @Bellaaaspamsss What’s This?

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mando reader insert #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #grogu #grogu x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n

[tw1nklet03s]

ballpit | colby brock x fem!reader

WARNINGS- baby cuteness, colby being a cute dad, some swearing.

SUMMARY- this is based off of the video where elton made a ballpit except colby has a girlfriend (you) and a newborn daughter. but they all still live in the trap house.

this is a long one!!!

𝑦／𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑣

i was laying on the bed with mine and colby’s two day old daughter, amanda, while colby was editing a video next to us on our bed.

we were just sitting there and elton comes running up the stairs, telling me, colby and sam to come downstairs and look at something.

“here we go, no giant hands elton, im holding my baby” colby yells as he takes amanda.

“no it’s not a prank” he yells back.

we walk downstairs and there is a bouncy house in what used to be the living room. it filled the whole roof. colby went to go on it, still holding the baby.

“colby please be careful, boys look out for amanda” i tell all the boys as they all get on it.

“don’t worry y/n, we’ll watch out for her” aaron tells me as he gently lays a hand on her small legs.

“yeah yeah, don’t be a fucking idiot about it” i giggle at the accent he does.

“yo aaron, can you quickly hold her, i wanna bounce on my back” colby asks as he starts handing her to him.

“sure man, hewo wittwe wittwe baby, oh your so cute, she’s adorable” he says in a baby voice, then changes it to a weird woman’s voice.

“yeah, she is, now hand her back to her dada” colby says laying on his back.

“colby be careful, please, she’s tiny compared to all you guys, and much more fragile” i say watching colby lay her on his chest.

“come join us y/n” sam tells me as he comes to the edge i was standing at.

“i don’t know, i’m still tired, and so is she so i might bring her for a nap” i say looking at colby, he is softly patting her back, and she is slowly starting to fall asleep.

“come on baby, just for a few minutes” colby pleads looking at me.

“fine, just a few minutes, then i’m taking her with me for a nap” i say hopping in, going over to colby.

“ok, i’ll come with yous” he says looking down at amanda as she makes cute baby noises while sleeping.

she eventually goes into a deep sleep and me and colby go up to our room. on the way up the stairs we can hear the guys giggling as they jump.

“are you going to sleep baby” he asks as he hands her to me, to take his shirt off.

“yeah, i’m so tired” i say yawning.

“come here baby” he says laying down on our bed.

i walk over to our bed after laying the sleeping baby in her crib. i lay down and colby instantly pulls me close to him. i hum in satisfaction as i nuzzle my face in his neck.

“you ok baby” he asks as i start sniffling.

“no, i’m in so much fucking pain in my vagina, im so emotional about every fucking thing, im always so tired, then i get horny, but there’s no point telling you cause i can’t have sex yet, i bearly want to go out, and i love our daughter, but she cries so much, and my nipples fucking hurt like a bitch” i sob while sitting up.

“aw baby, why didn’t you just tell me all this, i want to help you so much more than i do, but i don’t exactly know what to help you with. yes i know i help with the baby, but what exactly would you like me to do with her instead of you” he says taking my hands, looking into my eyes.

“breastfeeding” i say bluntly.

“ok baby, maybe something that’s actually physically possible for me to do” he says chuckling.

“i don’t know colbyyyy” i whine while laying down on his lap.

“ok, how about this. for the next two weeks, you rest, as much as you can. i’ll wake up and get her when she cries, i’ll feed her, meaning you’ll have to pump into bottles. i’ll change her diapers” he says rubbing my hair, making me inch closer to a peaceful slumber.

“that’s too much baby, i can do things, i sw-“

“no baby, that’s what’s happening. nothings changing my mind” he cuts me off.

“i love you so much, i don’t think i could do this without you” i say sitting up to hug him, tightly.

“i love you too, forever and ever” he says kissing my temple.

he lays us down as i yawn, cradling me in his arms as i sleep peacefully. he soon falls into a deep slumber.

sᴋɪᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ʜᴏᴜʀs

𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑏𝑦’𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑣

i woke up to the sound of amanda crying. i look over at her crib and notice she is awake. i slowly get up, careful not to wake up y/n. i walk over to her crib and pick her up, gently.

“hey baby, what’s the matter, you wake up hungry” i say softly while rocking her. her cries turned into tiny whines, into little coos.

i walk out of the room, going to the kitchen. i open the fridge to see a bottle of breastmilk, y/n already pumped earlier today.

“hey bro, she wake up hungry, just like her dad half the time” sam asks, walking into the kitchen.

“yeah, just like dada” i say putting some water in a pot, after handing her to sam.

“she’s so beautiful man, i can’t wait till me and katrina are ready for one” he says smiling down at his tiny goddaughter.

“thanks bro, trust me, it’s worth it” i say patting his back, lightly.

“hey y’all, this like a dadas meeting” corey jokes as he walks into the kitchen. “oh sorry ma’am, didn’t see ya. dada, plus cute adorable tiny baby brock meeting” he says after noticing her, in sams arms.

“yeah dude, i was just telling him how it’s so worth having a baby” i say smiling at corey’s joke.

“oh shit, sam wants a baby” corey says looking at sam.

“not quite yet, but yeah eventually” he responds looking down at amanda.

“true god” corey says taking amanda after sam offered her to him.

“hey guys, colby just letting you know, we’re having a party tonight, but i promise it’s baby friendly and the music won’t be blasting” elton says walking into the kitchen as i put the bottle in the water.

“ok, thanks bro” i say as i take amanda back, cause she was getting fussy.

once she goes silent and completely fine, everyone looks at me with wide eyes and their mouths open.

“what, you’ve never seen a baby stop crying” i ask chuckling lightly.

“no, she’s a huge daddy’s girl already” elton says, laughing.

“no she is not” i say making a face.

“she totally is, it would take any other parent at least twenty minutes to calm their newborns down, she was in your hand for less than a second and she’s just chill” corey says smiling but seeming confused.

“ok, maybe she is” i say smiling down at the little mix of me and the love of my life, staring up at me with her finger on her chin, like she was thinking.

“what’s she thinking about” sam jokes. and that’s when we find out.

she shit. great. she was thinking about weather or not to put her dad through hell and shit herself, cause i have to change her. and she did. i quickly test the milk temperature, and it’s just right. so i take that with us and change her.

after changing her, we all went to the living room. i was feeding her, her bottle, while me and the boys watched spongebob. yes, spongebob.

“baby” i hear y/n yell out, worry in her voice.

“the living room baby” i reply back.

she walks in with the same face she always has when she’s sleeping and when she wakes up. i angry face. her lips plump, eyebrows furrowed. she comes and sits next to me and lays into my side.

we watch some more tv, till it was time to get ready.

𝑦／𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑣

me, colby and amanda walked upstairs to get ready for the party. for amanda i just chose a simple onesie that was short sleeve, considering it was extremely hot and just some plain black socks. i chose a t-shirt, shorts and some airforces. colby was wearing a black t-shirt that tightly fit him, some bleached shorts and his bandana airforces.

we all walked downstairs and everyone was staring at us. they all watched us as we walked around, mainly cause everyone loved amanda. usually she would be passed around by now, but colby’s got her in his arms and he doesn’t like anyone but the people who live here, holding her much.

“have fun tonight baby” colby said to me.

“y/n, get over here, we need your music” of course. i was always the music person, i have”the best playlists ever” according to many. i think their just ok. not amazing.

(the playlist is at the bottom if your interested, it is a mixture of all kinds of songs that remind me of colby)

i connect to the small speaker, but still big enough for everyone to hear it. my playlist starts playing and hotel by montell fish, starts playing. (pretend it was out then)

everyone cheers. i love this song so much. i walk over to colby to see he gave amanda to katrina. thank fuck. i walk over to him and hook my finger on his chain, leading him to where everyone’s dancing.

i start swaying my hips on him, slowly. he grunts and stuffs his face in my neck, slowly kissing it. i let out a moan and scoot my ass back onto him. he groans and grips my waist.

“keep doing that baby, and i just might not give a shit about weather or not i can fuck you. i’ll be sure to put another baby in there” he says in my ear while humping me.

“do it….daddy” i say turning my head and kissing him hard.

“y/n, colby, she won’t stop crying” katrina says rushing over to us, making us pull apart quickly from our make out.

“fuck, ok, i’m going to bed anyways, she can come with me” i say taking her from katrina’s arms.

“you can stay baby, i want to get some sleep anyways, i love you” i say giving colby a kiss before going upstairs.

“your really keeping me from living, aren’t you little one” i say, sighing.

she only squeaks and mumble in return. i lay her down on the bed, before going to remove my shorts. until the door opens, i turn around to see its colby. i sigh and continue taking my shorts off.

“why aren’t you down there” i ask, hugging his big torso. (let’s just pretend the party went on fo awhile before katrina gave amanda back)

“mike and kevin were fighting, so elton sent everyone home” he said, before amanda squeals, getting our attention.

“hi baby, look at you, all smiling while laying on momma and dadas bed, you cheeky baby” colby says laying on his stomach, lifting his chest, so he doesn’t squash her tiny feet.

she only squeals again, making me giggle. colby also chuckles and lays his head on her stomach, giving her the opportunity to grip his hair.

“ow, babe, please, she’s got my hair” he yells while she yanks on it.

“hey, little monster baby, leave dadas perfect hair alone” i giggle while getting his hair out of his grip.

after that we did our things we had to do and went straight to bed.

sᴋɪᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴅᴀʏs

the ballpit was ballpit was still there. but amanda enjoyed it so, not complaining.

#colby x reader #dad!colby #colby brock

[teecupangel]

Your vamp au made me howl with laugher.

And I get a stupid idea here:

Purrrfect@always_purfect

I don't know about m＊thrfuking vampires but I think this dude really has some power. It's the FORCE！People! Sith is real！

You guys are with me? Yes? I know this is not the normal shit I do or normal fake news I enjoyed so much to tear apart while laughing like crazy.

After 6 fuxking hours video comparison with 3 more hours debates with every SW YouTubers and VTubers we can gathered at the moment.

It's goddamned real.

The vamp lover's eye color changed from honeybrown to sith gold in the 48 different videos and photos we could found.

From 32 phones, 6 photos, 5 shop cameras, 3car cameras and 2 honest to force Polaroid photos. If you have more video, send it to me！

From his ehh passioned defense of his bestfriend-it's on the Brazil national News- we can found a base color and even then they flashed gold when surrounding lights didn't change at all.

Look at these [1：27 from video2][0：43 from video8][6：05 from video39]. You can see his eye color changed to gold even in the shadows, yeah they were totally glowing The first time I thought it's reflect too. But they didn't change back to honey when he turned around to face [3：14 from video 11] and they just keep going all sith-y when he decided to make a run for it. *[Check for more traditional sith eye color and video lights detail analysis]*

How could we be so sure it's force？

Our (probably not) young Sith Lord wasn't touched by any person when he raced trough the whole mob.

Turned left at third blue guard bar 0.23s early to avoid a grab from a redhood male from behind. Keep his pace and dance though at least 5 intentionaltripping without looking at all. Dropped back 2 inches so a kid next to him didn't lost his balloon because their parents were trying too hard to get a good angle. Dogged at least 12 throwing projects. And so on. I could keep going all day about how it's impossible for human to do what he did. Our pitiful brain just do not have the processing power and spatial awareness for this.*[Check for more kinematic analysis ]*

But the truth is:

Not a single soul could touch him at all. If he's not a chairvoyance, the Force will it is the only answer.

# First real time video record of eagle vision in the human history and it's Desmond running from Leovamp fans # # Sith Lord Eyes#

@fanworldbuildingfun Okay. I did not expect a Star Wars conspiracy angle but I'm all in.

=======================

@revengeofthesithwasagoodmovie reblogs @always_purfect

#anyone who has a better explanation to why his eyes glow like that step up #it's the camera setting is not a good enough explanation and y'all know it! #da vinci vampire lover #leonardo da vinci #da vinci secret lover not-salai #wanted da vinci boy #abstergo being shady af

=======================

We've done it, guys. The Star Wars fandom has joined our search for our Da Vinci Vampire Lover. We've reached main stream. - 39 minutes ago

I thought we reached main stream when news outlets were talking about him? - 37 minutes ago

Nah. We only reach main stream when the Star Wars or Star Trek fandom joins us. - 36 minutes ago

How many days do you think before the SuperWhoLock fandom butts in? - 35 minutes ago

- 35 minutes ago

HOOOOWWW????? - 34 minutes ago

=======================

yo @iamnotmyancestor you can clear this all up, man. Just send us a video of you saying you're not a sith. We all know you're a vampire.

hi @iamnotmyancestor are you a space vampire? (asking for a friend)

hey @iamnotmyancestor where do force lightning come from?

@iamnotmyancestor i swear this isn't star wars related, i need help with my term paper? halp???

"Can everybody please stop calling Da Vinci vampire lover space vampire? We call the white dudes from Stargate space vampire and he's too hot to be one" "I think Todd is hot" "Nobody asks, @toddthespacevampirelover"

=======================

"Hey, guys... Am I a Sith?"

"No, Desmond. You're just a space vampire."

#Da Vinci's secret lover Not-Salai #ask and answer #desmond miles #all the crazy theories are popping out #and shaun keeps pinballing from having fun and wanting to strangle someone

[captainmantine00]

On my time scrolling through tumblr I’m very happy to see that the Pokémon fanbase is really chill here and doesn’t seem to be complaining or at each others throats or as toxic as in other social media sites.

Like, holy shit, it’s so much more enjoyable to look at Pokémon related stuff on here wayyy more than on other sites like Instagram for example since I’ve been on that app for over a decade.

It’s kinda surreal to me, because ever since 2019, I’ve been very used to Pokémon discussions being very bitter and cynical, things like how “the franchise isn’t good anymore” or “it hasn’t been in 10 years” or how “anyone who likes any of the new games are shills” or “meat riders” or that people who like or enjoy the newer games are “the reason why the franchise isn’t good anymore”, like…I haven’t seen anyone being cynical assholes about Pokémon around here, something that I have unfortunately been very used to seeing for the past 4 years.

It’s honestly a shame cause a lot of the negative discussions and discourse about Pokémon during that time had an extremely negative impact on how I enjoyed the franchise for a really long time, I remember I went from being extremely excited towards sw/sh to a toxic sw/sh hater and supressed myself from talking about or being passionate towards the games past gen 5 for a really long time despite them being the ones that I played the most during my adolescence, I remember I thought what I was doing made me look smarter and thought that it made me look like I didn’t have “shit taste” in video games and that it would make me look like I wanted what was best for the series but in reality I just became a huge bully, it didn’t help that I was friends with people who acted the same way, I cut them off my life a long time ago and thankfully I stopped behaving that way around last year and since then, I’ve become far less bitter and cynical cause if it, I still don’t like Sw/Sh and I still think they’re to worst mainline games, but I can care less if there’s people who just like those games.

And yes I’m obviously aware that there are fans who are toxic towards defending the games and I don’t condone that behavior whatsoever either, I’m just talking about the more cynical side of the fanbase because that’s the part of the fanbase I’ve been to most exposed to for the past 4 years. Thankfully I’ve moved away from that side of the Fanbase and I am now able to enjoy Pokémon like I did when I was 14 again without a single care about any sort of discourse or other peoples opinions getting in the way of enjoying the games, I swear I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed Pokémon Scarlet and Violet as much as I did if I didn’t let go of my toxic behavior, like that game has become my 3rd or 4th favorite Pokémon game and it has my favorite story in the franchise now.

I need to clarify I’m obviously not against anyone criticizing the newer games, Pokémon as a whole, or people who simply just have concerns regard legends Z-A like wether it’ll be glitchy/unpolished like Sc/Vi for example, I have my criticisms regarding the newer games too just don’t be a cynical asshole about it.

Another thing I want to mention is that yes I know that tumblr will have toxic Pokémon fans too, every site will have toxic fans in them no matter what, it’s just that here it’s not as prevalent on other sites and it’s much more easy to avoid.

Tldr: wow the Pokémon fanbase is way more bearable here, and that’s very refreshing due to my bad experiences with other toxic fans.

#Pokémon #nintendo #game freak #modern Pokémon #nintendo switch #pokémon sword and shield #pokémon scarlet and violet #pokémon legends z a

[imtryingmybeskar]

Drabble 24 - Dio. This can be read as Dio x M! Reader or Dio x F! Reader. Either way it's very NSFW. Word count: 509

Dio is a bratty sub who needs to be tamed. Which you are very happy to do courtesy of edging and orgasm denial.

A single drop of sweat runs down the central dip of his spine and pools at the small of his back as he arches, desperate to feel more of you.

“Please…,” he begs, panting. “Plea-please.”

“Mmmm, no,” you purr, grabbing his hips to still his movements. “Bad, bratty boys don’t get to choose how they come.”

He groans, and the desperation of it sends a thrill to your abdomen. You had teased him for hours before finally sinking into him and he was near frantic, his whole body tensed and on the verge of the orgasm that you had denied him for so long.

His head drops, dips down below his shoulders as his arms tremble with the sustained effort of holding himself on all fours. You slide your hand up the smooth skin of his sweat slicked back until you are cocooning him with your smaller body. Your hand reaches out for the leather collar that sits around his neck.

“Are you gonna be good for me now, sweet boy?” you coo, pulling gently so that he is forced to turn his head and look behind him. His beautiful, boundlessly dark eyes look black in the half light of the candles that are dotted around your bedroom and he nods frantically in reply to your question.

You glide your hands back down his torso, feeling the muscles between his ribs, the heat of his overwrought body under your fingertips. “Move with me,” you command, the order couched in soft velvet and love.

He does, repeating the dance you have performed a hundred times before as you rock back on to your haunches and bring him with you, sliding him down deeper still over the cock buried inside of him. He lets out an involuntary whimper at the feeling and you hook your chin over his shoulder to take a look at your handiwork.

His own cock is beautiful and angrily large, flushed almost purple at the tip and leaking everywhere, a pool of precum in a large circular patch on the sheets where he had previously been positioned. You run your palm firmly up over his chest, holding him close to your own as you lick a stripe up his shoulder and he visibly twitches as he desperately fights to control himself.

“Will you always be my good boy?” you whisper in his ear, gently biting down on his earlobe as he stutters his reply.

“Y-yes. Oh yes. I’ll be g-good always. I sw-swear.”

“Then use me,” you murmur. “Use my cock to come, Dio.”

He keens, a noise of relief and desperate desire, and begins to rock back on to you, angling himself until he hits that spot deep inside. A ragged shout is torn from his throat as he comes in seconds, his cock entirely untouched and yet spattering over the wall, the headboard, the pillows and sheets.

Quivering, he sinks back against you, relying entirely on your strength to keep him upright. You murmur sweet nonsense and praise into his ear, savouring holding him close.

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities

#shane dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio x you #dio x M! reader #dio x F! reader #shane dio morrissey x you #shane dio morrissey x reader #drabble challenge #drabbles #pure smut

[atiny-piratequeen]

6:15 PM

❀Pairing: Yeosang x San, Background OT8

❀Genre: Smut, Humor

❀AU: Night Shift Verse, Office Au, Established Poly Relationship

❀Rating: 18+

❀WC: 1.6k

❀Tw: Swearing

❀Sw: Nude Massage, Prostate Massage, Handjob, Temperature Play, Blowjob, Sex Toy, Cum Swallowing, Slight Exhibitionism, Body Worship Undertones, Hair Pulling

©atiny-piratequeen 2022. do not repost, translate, or use my works.

❀ AO3 |  Taglist Form  |   Commissions

❀Network Pings: @kdiarynet @kwritersworld @8makes1teamnet @k-vanity 

“I should thank Seonghwa-hyung for teaching me how to do this, shouldn’t I?”

San’s voice is a deep hum as he slowly kneaded and worked out the tension knots in Yeosang’s back. The only verbal response he got was a muffled whimper into a pillow. Slowly, a smile came to his face as he kissed between his shoulder blades.

“You’re hiding your voice again. I think it’s really cute when you do that.”

San pressed down on a particular spot, and a pop followed by a surprised noise came from Yeosang’s body before a deep rumble followed it. San’s eyes turned into crescents as his smile grew, tossing one leg over Yeosang’s hips. He lifted his body and moved with a near methodical slowness, settling himself on Yeosang’s ass as he continued to massage him, thumbs pressing into the muscle, rolling in small circles that gradually got wider.

“C-can you move a bit lower, please?”

San’s hands drifted down to the small of Yeosang’s back, kneading the small of his back. Once more, he was met with a muffled moan as he worked and a thought came to his mind.

“Turn around.”

Yeosang lifted his head in confusion.

“You’re sitting on-”

San silently lifted his hips, smiling sweetly as Yeosang got the hint, turning around and repositioning himself, holding San’s hips out of instinct. San sat down, noticing the way Yeosang squeezed his hips before not so subtly trying to shift him upwards to sit on his pelvis.

San tightened his thighs around his waist and sent him a devilishly sweet smile at the deer in headlights look on Yeosang’s face.

“Ah. What do you think you’re doing? I have to give you a massage. You’ve had a long and hard day in the office today, and on your birthday, no less. The least I can do is help you unwind my love~”

Yeosang glanced down at San’s hips before meeting his eyes.

“I really appreciate the massage, I do, but my-”

“-cock is rock hard, yes. Don’t worry. I’ll get to that.”

The tips of his ears went red and Yeosang promptly zipped his lips, moving his hands away from San’s hips and watching as the slightly younger man continued kneading and massaging him, admiring his body silently. Yeosang’s eyes never left San’s face, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“You’re staring.”

“I am. You working out with Jongho and Hoseok is paying off. Even if it is making you all tense and tight.” San met his gaze and booped his nose before moving back to his arms, tracing his fingers over the stretch marks the new muscle had created. Yeosang shuddered but relaxed into the pillow, nearly falling asleep from San’s talented hands until he shifted off of his lap and moved one of his oiled-up hands down to his cock.

The blonde’s eyes shot open-when the hell had he even closed them?-and he looked down, watching San slowly stroke him as he leaned forward, kissing the shell of his ear.

“The others should be back with your birthday cake and dinner in about half an hour or something like that. Are you ready for the fun part of this massage?”

“It’s my birthday, that’s part of the gift, right?”

A spark of chaos crossed San’s expression before he smiled and leaned in once more.

“You’re lucky your birthday is in the middle of the week or I’d ride you into the sunset but then we’d both have to miss work. Stay here.” He got up and darted out of the room, leaving Yeosang staring at his retreating form.

When he came back, he had a toy in his hand and two small bowls. Yeosang lifted his head to see better, realizing one bowl had ice, and the other had more warm oil. The toy was a small massager.

He watched San pop an ice cube into his mouth, blowing a kiss in his direction before he slicked his fingers up with the oil, slowly easing one into Yeosang as he held the vibrator onto the underside of his cock.

“Fuck-”

“Ah, don’t cover your mouth.”

Yeosang caught himself mid-motion, spreading his legs and bunching the sheets under his hand instead. San smiled and kissed his hip teasingly, cold tongue tracing i love you’s and little hearts along Yeosang’s skin every now and again.

“You’re t-teasing me on my birthday?”

“Ah, no. I’m massaging you on your birthday. You can’t rush these things, Sangie. I thought you were one of the more patient ones~” San teased, slowly working his finger in and out of Yeosang, bringing the vibrator down towards the base of his cock. Yeosang whined and twitched again, his cock brushing against San’s cheek.

San let out a faux sigh and turned his head, blowing cool air onto Yeosang’s cock and smiling as he pulled the sheets.

“You’re lucky it’s your birthday. I’ll be nice even if you’re impatient.” He wrapped his lips around the crown of Yeosang’s cock, pressing what was left of his ice cube against his cock with his tongue as he added a second finger. He moved the massager down to Yeosang’s balls, humming around his cock as the birthday boy’s hand found its way into his hair, slowly guiding him up and down.

His lips fell open while his eyes slipped closed, the quiet, restrained moans from before growing in volume as San took him all the way, settling and stilling with Yeosang fully down his throat. He ignored the slight pull to his hair, watching Yeosang’s face.

His eyes remained closed, his chest rising and falling harshly as his thighs twitched at either side of San’s head. He didn’t pull his hair anymore, realizing San had no intention of rushing, despite the fact that Yeosang could feel his orgasm creeping up, especially after the man began curling his fingers up in come hither motions.

“F-fuck! San wait-”

San swallowed around him, rolling the pads of his fingers over Yeosang’s prostate, the vibrator still buzzing against his balls. To his credit, Yeosang still kept himself from bucking and thrusting down San’s throat, but it was becoming incredibly evident he wouldn’t last much longer.

San could hear the distant sound of voices in the house, and a small glance at the bedside clock brought a hum from him that made Yeosang twitch and whimper.

“-aybe upstairs?”

San purred and began moving his head, curling and massaging Yeosang faster than before, watching as his muscles flexed and trembled. Yeosang was a bit too polite for his own good, San thought. He could fuck his throat raw right here and San would probably thank him for it, but for now, he focused on this cock humming and swallowing around Yeosang.

“S-San pull up, I’m gonna cum.”

A huff left San’s nose, akin to a laugh as he doubled down his efforts, pressing his fingers hard against his prostate, eyes narrowing at Yeosang in offense even though the other man’s eyes were still tightly closed.

“Happy birth-”

“San!”

San felt Yeosang’s cock throb as he came down his throat, with Hongjoong stopping short, wide-eyed as he held a cake in his hands. Wooyoung and Yunho nearly knocked him over as they struggled to stop their walking, bumping into him as they watched San slowly pull off of Yeosang’s cock. Jongho and Mingi peeked around Yunho’s frame and Seonghwa leaned against the doorframe, head tilted to the side as San made a show of showing them the load he had in his mouth before swallowing, pulling his fingers out of Yeosang.

“Um…make a wish?” Hongjoong blinked, a bit flustered himself as Yeosang hid his face, beet red.

“S-sorry!”

Seonghwa laughed and slowly began removing his watch and rings.

“Oh, don’t apologize. I’m sure we can find fun things to do for the birthday boy after we eat cake. Or should we eat you instead?” The mocha-haired man raised a brow and Wooyoung grinned.

“San already got started.”

“Give him a few minutes, I’m sure he’ll be ready for a few more.” Mingi chimed in and Yeosang blushed and sat up, looking at San in concern.

“Did I hurt your throat?”

“No, actually you could fuck my face till I cry and I’d appreciate that just as much. Maybe more, actually.”

Seonghwa clapped and sent them a smile as Hongjoong looked from the cake to the bed, unsure if he should come closer or let Yeosang recover.

“As much as I love hearing San talk about being a cock hungry pain slut, we have candles to blow out before blowing Yeosang’s back out. San’s birthday is right around the corner for that.”

Yeosang hid his face once more, groaning as Wooyoung, Mingi, and San burst into laughter. Hongjoong smiled and came closer, holding the cake up. Yeosang peeked from between his fingers, looking at the cake. He noticed the small white chocolate mascot in the center with the flower on his head and smiled, looking up at them all despite the blush on his face and his state of undress.

“We love you, Yeosang. Happy birthday, baby.”

Yeosang smiled and lifted his head, accepting kisses from each of his boyfriends before Jongho handed him his slice of cake. His nose scrunched as Wooyoung smudged cake icing on his cheek.

He could feel at least two pairs of eyes on him as he ate, patiently waiting.

It may only be on a Wednesday this year, but they don’t call it hump day for nothing, he supposed.

Maybe he could turn up a bit late tomorrow.

Just a bit.

--------------------------Taglist---------

@kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @angel0taiyo @jacksons-goddess-gaia @gettin-a-lil-hanse @daniblogs164 @daisyhwa @yunhofingers @stormiestories @billboard-singer @xlilehx @alliecoady98 @jess-1404 @perfectlysane24 @babiebumm @skmoonchild @netcookie @seomisaho @bangteezbaby @yungiland @serialee @asyamonet22 @drunk-on-hwa @shingisimp @phoenixcode21 @justatiredhuman @dreamyinception-world @soluvcore @twistedsiren @xuxibelle 

#fie writes #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #8makes1teamnet #k-vanity #night shift #night shift verse #yeosang smut #san smut #ateez smut #kpop mxm #member x member smut #night shift oneshot #yeosan oneshot #kang yeosang smut #choi san smut #kpop smut

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Safe Haven ~Bang Chan | Day 2.

Pairing: SpaceRebel!Chan x WitchQueen!F.Reader Themes: Fantasy AU | Sci-Fi AU | Royalty AU | Soulmate AU | Slow Burn | Mutual Pining | Angst | Smut | Fluff. Series Warnings: Third person POV · Very loose and liberal usage of Star Wars concepts (mostly to refer to weapons and tech). you don’t need to know anything about SW to read this, trust me · Physical descriptions of the main female character such as: can visibly blush, having long hair, and being short · Violence · Swearing · Mature themes and language · Original characters · Graphic smut (later chapters) · Mentions of the members of other groups (later chapters) · No one is straight, beware · Each chapter will include its own individual warnings. Chapters marked as M (Mature) either include highly detailed violence, or smut.

Chapter Warnings: food consumption · jokes surrounding taking one’s life (lighthearted).

Word Count: ~3k | AO3

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact. ✰This chapter has been reworked as of 16/08/2023

Previous Chapter: Day 1. | Series Masterlist. | Next Chapter: Day 3.

 Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

“…So, we’ll take the speeders to this river over here. We’ll have to use special machinery to open up a path through the river so we can safely make it to the other side. Changbin, you and I can work on that together with the machine I mentioned earlier. After that, we…”

Chan, Changbin, and Felix had received instructions in the very early morning to meet Dev in this room. A map of one of Lira Le’s quadrants had been laid on the table, and wooden figures had been placed on top of it to symbolise the most important landmarks in their way. Dev spoke loud and clear, enthusiastically, even, while he explained the route to the group.

Chan was only there for information purposes. Even if he wasn’t going with them, Dev suggested for him to join their meeting just to familiarise himself with what his crewmates were going to do. Admittedly, he was only half listening, his mind was completely out of it, focused on his other crew members. 

Three of them had left a day prior to Chan’s mission. They were in charge of opening a route for enslaved civilians to escape one of the Charmer’s facilities, whilst the other two had stayed back at their base of operations, as the main trackers and support for each sub-group to fulfil their respective missions.

That was how they usually operated. Someone would stay back at their base to remotely keep a constant eye on the radars and ensure no close encounter with the enemy was made, while the others would go into the field. For this mission, Seungmin–the second youngest in their unit–had been chosen as their tracker, and it’d only been thanks to him that they didn’t die the second they were spotted after Chan’s miscalculation.

“…So with your magic, Felix. We could activate the panel…” 

Chan could barely hear Dev in the background. The man’s words slurred into nonsense in his head, while he just just looked at his crewmate’s faces. Changbin and Felix looked determined, and Chan wondered if they were truly okay with all this, or if this was just an act. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time they put up a façade to ease his worries.

“So, all this will take a week?” Changbin’s voice broke through the noise in Chan’s head, bringing his attention back to the conversation.

“Yes. The estimated time is a week. As long as weather conditions are optimal”, Dev offered. “If the winds are too strong, or if it rains heavily, we might be delayed by a few days, but we should be fine”.

Dev turned to Chan and handed him a small slab of white stone–marble, by the weight and feel of it. “Here’s the communicator I was talking to you about”.

Chan had no idea what Dev was talking about, and he suddenly felt a bit guilty for not listening more intently to his explanation earlier. “You can use this to get in contact with me, that way you can talk to your friends here. Additionally, if we’re in any sort of predicament, we can also use it to communicate with you”.

“Thanks”, Chan simply took the stone in his hand. It was pleasantly cool to the touch. “This will be helpful”.

Dev then turned to Changbin and Felix. “Is the plan clear?”

“I guess so”, Felix spoke first, using what Chan knew to be his ‘Everything’s fine, this is fine’ voice. “I’m not sure my magic is strong enough for what you want me to do, but I’ll certainly do my best”.

“You’ll do just fine”, Dev reassured him, with a bright smile on his lips. “We leave midday today. The maids have prepared all necessary supplies for us. It’ll all be packed on the speeders. Any questions?”

The three men just shook their heads.

“Alrighty, then!” Dev clapped his hands once, and stood up from his chair. “See you guys in the southeast courtyard later”.

With that, Dev left the room.

Chan and his friends sat in silence for a while, with their arms crossed over their chests, staring at the map in front of them as if it would suddenly come to life and show them the path once again. 

“I’m gonna be honest, you guys”, Chan was the first to break the silence. He brought the stone close to his face. “I’ve got no idea how to use this. I wasn’t listening”.

Changbin chuckled at his captain’s words. “We could tell. You had your classic dissociation stare”.

Chan gasped, bringing a hand to his chest and acting offended. “I don’t have a dissociation stare”. 

The nerve of his friends…

“‘Course you do”, Felix stated, matter-of-factly. “You suck at hiding it, too. Anyway, Dev just said you had to hold the stone-comm in your hand and say his name”.

“Huh…” Chan just stared at the stone. It just looked… Well, like a stone.

Chan looked back at his friends, and they were both already focused on him.

“You guys better come back in one piece”, he was trying his best to hide the extra worriedness in his voice. He briefly wondered if he sucked at hiding that, too.

“Please, as if we would ever let you enjoy one second of silence”, Felix’s tone was playful, teasing. And yet, Chan recognized that look in his eyes. It was the look he had before every mission, a dangerous mix of determination and anxiety.

“Don’t worry about it”, Changbin patted Chan’s shoulder, trying to reassure him. “I have a good feeling about this. It’ll be alright. Plus, we’ll call as often as possible, so you don’t miss us”.

Changbin emphasised his last statement with a wink, which made Chan chuckle.

“I’m looking forward to that”.

At midday, Chan and his friends met up with Dev in the southeast courtyard, just like the man had instructed them. Three speeders were already parked there, all stocked up with supplies for the trip. Dev and Wang Eun were packing the last few items when the group arrived.

“Hey, lads”, Dev greeted them with a smile, just as he tightened the rope holding the cargo to his speeder.

“Hey, need any help?” Changbin offered, approaching him with hurried steps.

“No worries, it’s all done already”, with one last tug, Dev turned to Chan and Felix.

All four of them stood forming a circle by the speeders while they discussed the last few details of the plan. Wang Eun, in the meantime, double checked that everything was in order with the supplies.

“Looks like you’re all ready”, the Queen’s voice broke through the conversation, and she greeted them with a smile on her lips.

“Of course, Your Majesty. You know how efficient I am!” There was a bit of playfulness in Dev’s voice. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed to greet Her Majesty. “We only had to make small changes in the original route, hoping to utilise our resources better. But everything else is going just as planned”.

The Queen hummed in acknowledgement, offering her assistant a ‘That’s good’ before she turned to Felix. “I have something for you. I think it’ll be helpful”.

She handed Felix a purple stone. It was textured, and it had no shine to it.

“This will help you channel your magic better. Dev can give you a hand if you’re not sure how to use it. But I’m confident you’ll know how to when the time comes”, Her Majesty carefully placed the stone in his hand when Felix had held it open for her. With her other hand, she moved his fingers to close around it, and with one final reassuring squeeze, she finally let go. It was a calming gesture that Felix clearly appreciated.

The Queen then turned to Dev. Bringing her left hand to his neck, and placing her right hand over his heart, she leaned forward and connected her forehead to his. “Have a safe trip, my friend. Don’t hesitate to ask for help if needed”.

Dev just offered her a smile in return.

Finally, she turned to Changbin, placing her hand over her heart and lightly bowing. “Stay safe out there”.

Changbin instinctively did the same, and the sight of him returning the gesture seemed to bring a smile back on her face.

“Alrighty, then”, Dev clapped once, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “Hop on. Time to go”.

Chan, Changbin, and Felix shared one final hug while they said their goodbyes. 

With one last wave, the group hopped onto their speeders. The Queen waved back at them, murmuring some words to herself Chan couldn’t quite hear.

With a loud rumble, the speeders took off, going in the direction of the forest. The tall, colourful trees immediately swallowed the three of them, and the courtyard was suddenly quiet… Quiet, save for that minute hum in Chan’s ears.

He noticed last night that he was still hearing this odd humming sound… He figured it might’ve been the stress of the day, considering everything that had happened, but he woke up today and it was still there. It honestly wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just… there, and he was trying to ignore its presence for the time being.

The Queen dismissed Wang Eun, who immediately bowed to her one last time before he left.

As Chan watched his friends disappear among the trees, he felt a nudge on his hand. He looked in the direction of the movement, and his eyes immediately found Freyja’s, the Queen’s feline, sitting next to him. Her tail swayed over the neatly cut grass while she looked at his face. Then, she looked at his hand, and once again back to his face. 

Tentatively, Chan brought his hand up, leaving it right in front of her face. Freyja sniffed it, and, almost immediately, a low rumbling sound came from the panther. She pushed her face onto his hand, encouraging him to pet her.

“You’re a cutie, aren’t you?” He mumbled. He complied with the feline’s silent request, his fingers diligently went over her forehead to rest behind her ear, where he settled to scratch her gently.

“They’ll be okay. Don’t you worry”, the Queen spoke to Chan, while he continued to pet Freyja. 

He just sighed. “I hope so”. 

“I was wondering…” Her Majesty was cautious when she spoke again, lowering her voice considerably. “You mentioned your mission was to gather intel, right? What happened to it?”

The movement of Chan’s hand on Freyja’s head stopped with the sudden questions, and he turned to look at the Queen.

She brought both of her hands up, probably her way of showing there was no ill-intent in her enquiry. “Don’t look at me like that! I don’t want to know what you found. Just curious if… you know, it survived the crash”.

“I would’ve seriously hung myself already if it hadn’t survived”, Chan chuckled. “I have it. It’s safe”.

The Queen’s frame visibly relaxed with Chan’s confirmation. “I see… That’s good”

“It is… but, hey, now that I think about it…” The mention of his mission sparked curiosity in Chan’s brain, so he really couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you communicate with Dall at all?”

“Uh…” She seemed to be taken aback by the sudden question, but she answered him regardless. “Yes. Yes I do. Don’t we all?”

There was clear hesitancy in her voice, a tiny spark of uncertainness that seemed uncharacteristic in someone like her, especially considering the topic. Chan knew that almost everyone in the Alliance had contact with the rebel leader, so, to him, it seemed perfectly normal to have contact with them.

“Could you inform them we managed to get the intel, and that it’s still safe with us?”

“Sure”, she agreed, just as her gaze turned to the faraway trees, where Changbin, Felix, and Dev had disappeared into. “Do you want me to send them the details as well?”

Chan pondered for a moment. By now, he had accepted the fact that he trusted the Queen, but he still wanted to be cautious. He trusted her enough to stay at her home, but maybe not enough quite yet to give her such sensitive information. His best bet to get the intel safely to Dall would be to give it to Seungmin once the communicators were up, so that was exactly what he was planning on doing.

“No, no need”.

“That’s fine. I’ll let them know”, the Queen looked at him with a genuine smile on her face, one that Chan returned effortlessly. “I have to go now. Come on, Freyja”.

With an almost apologetic pat on his shoulder, she turned around, calling for her feline once more before she started to walk back towards the castle.

Freyja nudged Chan’s hand with her nose. He pet her behind the ears one last time before she left his side and followed the Queen.

Chan just stood there on his own for a while longer, looking at the spot where his friends had disappeared just minutes earlier, trying to ignore the heavy feeling settling in his chest.

Chan decided to make his way to the ship. He wanted to see how things were going, and to help if necessary. He also wanted to get away, to be at a familiar place where he wouldn’t feel as awkward as he did in most areas within the castle.

“Good afternoon”, he greeted Talboot as soon as he stepped into the main control room. 

“Hey there, boy”, the old man was crouching on the floor, working on the internal circuit boards of the main console. “How’s it going?”

“Well, my ship’s in shambles and my friends are gone, so I’m doing fan-tas-tic”, Chan chuckled as he approached the man.

“Fair enough”, a light chuckle left his lips. Talboot seemed to be in a good mood, which was reassuring, in a way. “What’re you doing here? Anything you need from me right now?”

“Mmm, not really. I was wondering… Would you mind if I worked on the communicator? I want to get it running as soon as possible”.

Talboot looked up at Chan, his bionic eye stretched and retracted a couple of times when it tried to focus on Chan’s face. “You know your way around these things?”

The scepticism in his voice was very hard to miss, and, honestly, Chan couldn’t blame him. If he had been Talboot, a clearly seasoned engineer, he would’ve probably reacted the exact same way. Especially when the old man didn’t know what Chan could do.

“Yeah, I… fix spaceships for a living”.

Talboot looked at him for a few seconds, but eventually, he just shrugged. “Suit yourself, then”.

With the go-ahead from the man currently in charge of his ship, Chan walked towards one of the side compartments on the console, where he knew his toolbox to be. The door was bent and slightly jammed in, which wasn’t really surprising considering the entire state of the ship. With a few minutes of prying, though, he was finally able to get it to open, and he found the mostly intact case. Thankfully, all the tools inside it still seemed to be in good shape.

He removed one of the panels on the side of the main console, right where he knew the circuit board of the communicator would be. Taking a torch from his toolbox, he shone the light inside to assess the damage. Everything was blackened, covered in soot, it was difficult to tell which cables were burnt and which were just dirty. With a sigh, he took a rag from the toolbox and started cleaning things around to give himself a better view.

People came and went into the room as time passed. The sound of chatter seemed to be ever-present as everyone worked around the ship, the smell of soldering lingered in the air around him… It all comforted Chan, in a way. It was almost as if he was back home in his parent’s shop.

At some point during the day, Talboot started a light conversation with Chan. At the beginning, he only discussed the ship’s repairs, but the longer they spoke, the more he started giving some insight into his personal life.

Talboot was a widow, and he had two daughters–one around Chan’s age, the other much older. A passing comment of ‘You should come for dinner sometime’ warmed him up from the inside out. That air of  hospitality felt completely genuine, and so incredibly different to what he’d gotten used to the past handful of years.

“I live in the castle town, right on top of the Bloom Bakery”, Talboot told him. “My eldest runs the place, her pastries are to die for. You should drop by one of these days”.

Chan just chuckled at the invitation, with his hands still occupied, working on the communicator’s circuit board, removing burnt bits from it. “I’m not too sure Her Majesty would like for me to wander around that far”.

Talboot waved his hand, as if to dismiss Chan’s comment. “She won’t mind, I’m sure. Wouldn’t even be surprised if she came with you herself, she’s got quite the sweet tooth, our Queen”.

He spoke of the Queen as if he was well acquainted with her, which, even if it was slightly odd, it didn’t surprise Chan all that much.

“But if you’re not so sure yourself, you could always ask”, Talboot added.

“Maybe I will”, Chan regarded him with a smile before he returned his eyes back to the circuit board in his hands.

As night fell, and repairs on the ship ceased for the day, Chan returned to his chambers. His whole body ached, tired from all the crouching and slouching he’d been doing around the ship. He was physically tired, and his mind was too restless. Thoughts of his friends in the forest, his friends at their base, of the entire Rebel Alliance plagued his mind constantly, to the point where a measly bath wasn’t enough to calm his head.

A knock on the door brought him back to reality. A quick look at the clock on the wall signalled the start of dinner time, so it was easy for him to imagine who was behind the door.

“Come in”.

The door opened, and, with a tray in his hand, Wang Eun immediately made his way into the room. “Good evening, Chan. Brought you dinner”.

Last night, Chan found out Wang Eun was the same age as him. Immediately, Chan had asked him to speak comfortably around him. Wang Eun was genuinely grateful, stating that ‘I suck at pretending to be polite’ and that ‘Her Majesty knows that, and that’s probably why she assigned me to you guys’, which Chan regarded as a great decision on her part.

He had also found out from Wang Eun that seemingly every person working at the castle was happy with their job. The pay was really good, and the perks outweighed the difficulties of the job–if any. They weren’t asked to blindly follow orders, but to keep to their role and speak up if something dissatisfied them instead.

“Thanks. Smells good”, Chan said simply while he attempted to dry his wet hair with a towel.

“The food here’s always good”, Wang Eun smiled at Chan, just as he placed the plates on the dining table and uncovered them. “So, how’s the ship looking?”

Chan sighed at the question. “Not too good. Don’t even wanna think about it”.

“It’ll be fine. Talboot’s really good at what he does”, Wang Eun reassured him, placing the last piece of cutlery on the table.

“I know… But still hurts”.

Wang Eun just gave him an apologetic look, stepping away from the table. “Need anything else right now?”

“Actually… Yeah”, a thought popped up in Chan’s mind at that moment. He desperately needed an outlet to all these frustrations and all this anxiety building inside of him, and he figured asking Wang Eun for some information was the only thing he could do to find a solution. “Is there any place here to, like, exercise?”

“Mmm…” Wang Eun brought a hand to his chin, scratching it while he thought for a moment. After a few moments, he finally answered Chan’s question. “There’s a pool, where you could go for a swim… But it’s on the wing of the castle after the throne room…”

Chan had told Wang Eun the night before about the Queen’s request, inquiring as to why she might’ve not wanted him in that area. Wang Eun had just shrugged, alleging she simply must’ve had her reasons. “Then, there’s also the training grounds, where the royal guard trains every day. There’s an area for the rest of the castle workers, in case we want to use it. I suppose you could go there. It’s past the kitchens”.

“Oh, okay. Thanks, I’ll probably go there”, Chan wished he could go to that pool instead. Back home, he used to spend a lot of his free time in the waterfields, finding it comforting to swim until his limbs ached. But he figured the training grounds would do. 

“No problem. I’ll leave you to it then. Be back later for the plates”, Wang Eun bowed slightly, just before he left the room.

Chan sat down to eat. He couldn’t help but think of Changbin and Felix as soon as he looked at the plates in front of him. Have they eaten? Are they okay? What if they were eaten by a bear and I don’t know? Are there even bears in Lira Le? He shook his head, trying to let go of his pessimistic thoughts.

They surely were fine. There was no way they wouldn’t be.

Everything was going to be fine, for sure.

Previous Chapter: Day 1. | Series Masterlist. | Next Chapter: Day 3.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2022-2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

#stray kids fantasy au #bang chan fantasy au #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic

[quietbluejay]

Know No Fear 1

so! it's gonna be fun rereading this now that i have a lot more knowledge about what on earth is going on so as i think i mentioned originally this one is written in a much more experimental style, sometimes it worked! A lot of the time…it didn't but i do remember this one being very much a "disaster movie" type of thing and also partially found footage maybe? I'm not going to post as much about it since it's, well, not as brainworm inducing but this is some very fun horror in the opening

it goes into a bit of detail about their deaths in a successfully horrifying way and I like it, I really feel like this whole sequence does a great job of setting the tone for the book which is, this very kind of organized way of looking at the world that Guilliman and the Ultramarines have, the regular kind of disaster and evaluation etc and then also there's these horrible unknowable things (daemons) that have invaded this world as part of the disaster

so, something i find funny is that consistently the Ultramarines are shooketh because the idea of Space Marines fighting each other is inconceivable to them "the idea is nonsense" "there is no tactical precedent" this is a repeated element and meanwhile over in A Thousand Sons, the SW and the TS are like thiiiis close to attacking each other the whole time and iirc there is some violence done lol not to mention the uh historical precedent of purging two legions

OWO MY BLORBO IS HERE

Iax mention oh hey in 10k years it's gonna turn into a battle ground!

ow that hurts because in the Horus-centric books we start to see him trying to move beyond this and thinking independently and perhaps…becoming a better person and then he gets stabbed by evil knife

skldfsdhkjfl ONE PARAGRAPH used the word "bastard"…let me count 5 times dan abnett: i need to swear but i'm not allowed to use the word "fuck" dan abnett: bastard can be used as an adjective right? this has to be read to be believed

wait i missed the last one SIX "bastard"s

okay these were fine but like the entire first 20% of the book (iirc) had scenes that ended with this kind of thing and it kind of got to the point of "okay, when is this actually gonna start" i'll see if it holds up better than it did in my memory i will say i do like how Abnett does try to get in a lot of views on the ground level, with ordinary people's POVs but also I remember being like GET TO THE POINT especially in the sample for Prospero Burns

i mean framing a war of conquest as "a necessary step taken for survival" sure is an absolute wonder of propaganda but also, really, how was the emperor planning on getting rid of them lmao

me, looking at Guilliman and sniffing you are so naive but like did guilliman look at how the space marines are created, like, at all???

who looks at that and thinks "ah yes they will pivot to do non violence things" i didn't really fully realize the extent of this when i originally read this also man imagine this guilliman waking up in the 41st millenium like "lol. lmao" and then there's his entire attitude of "the emperor doesn't make mistakes, im sure thing clear flaw actually had a purpose"

even the ultramarines are kind of like "we love you but you're being overly optimistic here"

me looking at the timeline like ???? was literally NO ONE from the loyalist side able to get through to Guilliman?? and this is before the Ruinstorm, the whole book is about how the Ruinstorm happened there's something like at least a full year between Istvaan V and Calth and Dorn and Terra knew about Horus before then because the Eisenstein got through and then over in Scars we got him (Dorn) repeatedly spamming Jaghatai with messages to make sure at least one got through

…man, i didn't get it the first time, but i'm eyes emoji that guilliman has under the table freedom of religion in ultramar Old Person Oll Persson is openly a Catheric and goes to a chapel with some of his neighbours and the worst he gets is some of his other neighbours in the area laughing at him (edited) and the chapel isn't a secret or anything hm. you know, logically, given that the nascent imperial faith is able to create miracles you'd think there'd have been more miracles popping up in the face of the great crusade you're trying to stamp out religions. that's literally the kind of situation that creates martyrs.

also, you're telling me there were zero societies doing daemon worship that decided to summon them in the course of the conquest? well they could try to push it under the rug like the whole samus incident but it's not so much the effect on the space marines and imperium I'm thinking about, but on the people being conquered. You have your miracles or your daemon summoning, or whatever, you have tangible, visible proof that your faith is real the iterators with their dollar store arguments are going to find it extremely difficult to make a real dent in that

once again, when examined, the imperium having as much cohesion as it does in canon, makes absolutely zero sense

I respect that Warhammer40k is 100% aesthetic first, making sense second, but also I think you COULD very much keep the aesthetic while still having things make more sense like having a whole bunch of different empires and independent entities you could up the despair by having everyone embroiled in wars with each other as much as they're fighting Chaos

or people who genuinely think Chaos is the better of two evils to ally with against the Imperium i think also this would work really well for guilliman's return because he totally would see it as a priority to reconquer all the worlds from the great crusade

oh hey look at that it's the future doctrine of the imperium

and that's his take on it

you know, given the codex and reverence with which guilliman's writings are held you know i'm pretty sure he is the base for 40k imperial doctrine he's appalled by it but at its root, it's this he keeps walking the exact same steps as the emperor his primary objection is "you're making the wrong sacrifices" and he is unable to step out of the paradigm just like the emperor nothing he builds will outlast him, and also depends on him making the correct decision 100% of the time

oh boy it's time for the guilliman description

i just really love the line "like a good sword is handsome"

i feel like at some point i should read one of the space wolf books because i cannot get a straight answer about Russ and I don't actually trust anyone's reading comprehension here it's also fun how Guilliman is an unreliable narrator w.r.t. the nature/personality of his brothers haha

like this bit here

ah oof the next paragraph is pain after reading dark imperium, given all the bits that are like "for all his other talents guilliman is, at his base, a sword"

also people actually laugh at his jokes in the Heresy-era rip future!Guilliman

sjkdfhsd I love how when the chapter masters raise their eyebrows at him because he's going to handle Thiel's reprimand he's like "ok yes i know i'm micromanaging but i've already had several meetings that could have been emails with Erebus and I'm going to have to deal with him in PERSON and micromanaging is my stress relief okay" the chapter masters, all being familiar with erebus, agree that this is fair, lmao

"hur dur space marines competing and clashing is all part of the emperor's vision, his sons will always stop things before they go too far"

also i love how they refer to Monarchia and reframe it as a "humiliation" rather than, you know, a war crime it's a humiliation to lorgar and the word bearers what? the people living in there? i don't know her our ultramarine who is friends with a word bearer is like "it clearly bothered Guilliman to be used as an instrument of humiliation" but still. Even Guilliman who is the "good one" is very much an aristocrat the only way Monarchia matters is as a humiliation to the people that matter

rip Luciel though

ahhhhh delicious delicious dramatic irony IT SURE WILL, HUH

(I'm not going to post as much about this one, I said, like a liar)

#warhammer 40k #bluejay reads warhammer

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Comforting Little Brothers

Warnings and Information: Scruffy's story continues on in the fourth installment of the NTMY,B universe. Canvas is not having a good time since Scruffy's brush with death, so Scruffy's paternal instincts are on full display. Are there recreation rooms on a Venator class starship in canon? Maybe not explicitly mentioned, but we can pretend chances are good given the size of and the multiple purposes these ships serve in SW canon. Some more minor expansion of Faro, Gunnar, Cryfar and Fluke's story with more emphasis on Stick and Scruffy, and my takes on some softer aspects of Clone Culture. The Clones are artistic AF because I say so (*gestures at their armor designs*). That bird exists in SW because I say so [there's only so many times I'll open Wookiepedia for species that probably have one or two lines of Canon/Legends information]. No Mando'a here. Star Wars and real-world swearing. My usual use of italics.

Word-count: 5,324

He felt, in a word, just terrible, really. Canvas had been doing so well since finding his identity, getting his Name from one of their COs, but since Scruffy’s brush with death - only a matter of two agonizing minutes for this little brother - he’s… regressed. Canvas has regressed badly in the week and half they’ve spent aboard the Venator class ship that’s been stationed above the planet while Scruffy recovers to the satisfaction of the medical crew.

Scruffy can’t blame the lack of sleep he’s been getting, sleep that would accelerate his recovery and get him combat-ready sooner, on poor ‘Vas…  

Poor ‘Vas who’s been having nightmares about the tripwire and detonation. The feeling of the brother who took care of him fading away under his hands, and the chest compressions Stick performed on Scruffy failing to bring him back. The detonation was Scruffy’s fault in the first place. If he’d only watched where he’d put his damn foot, his little brother wouldn’t be having these nocturnal terrors about losing more brothers close to him. 

Nightmares that were only getting worse, leading to a devastating and vicious chain reaction of consequences. The worse the nightmares, the less he slept, and the less he slept, the more paranoid he would become. Paranoia that worsened the nightmares. 

Nightmares where Gunnar hadn’t just tried to race across No Man’s Land to selflessly provide cover-fire for a trooper who wasn’t dead after all, but he had triggered the landmine nearby instead of the CIS battle droid. Where Cryfar hadn’t just fallen backwards into a deeper pit and presumably broken his neck or his skull after losing his footing on the soil softened by the rains, but had either drowned or been swept away in a flash-flood. Where Faro hadn’t just been shot by the BX commando, but had his spine broken over the clanker’s knee, too. Where Fluke hadn’t just been effectively poisoned by his spoiled rations and died in his sleep, but he’d been… Maker, poor Canvas couldn’t even say. 

And now, he, Scruffy, was showing up in these nightmares. The more the medics said he recovered and got closer to battle-ready, the more Canvas seemed to regress. 

Scruffy couldn’t let his little brother go on this way, but he wasn’t sure how he could break the anxiety spiral this time. All the worry stones in the galaxy couldn't help him right now. Sedatives just made him fitful and sick to his stomach. They'd tried; many times. It was hard to think at 0300 in the morning as he listened to Stick trying to coax Canvas back to his bunk while he feverishly messaged the CO back. 

“Hey, do… you want to try one of those strategy games they gave us as cadets, Canvas?”

“No.” Canvas snaps back, squeezing his knees tighter under his chin, thin GAR-issued blanket draped around his shoulders as he sits, hunched, in a corner of the room.

Sir, please, with all due respect, I’m not sure the sedative is the best call. Yes, I know he needs sleep, believe me. But he was sick for an hour afterwards the last time we tried it. He’s not eating regularly again.

Placating hands are raised to chest level, trying to show the lack of threat. “Okay-okay. What about walking around the ship to tire you out?” Stick suggests gently, trying to buy Scruffy time to find or outsource a potential solution. 

“We’re not supposed to leave our quarters,” Canvas drones in a flat intonation, “we’d get in troub-”

“Well not if a CO said it was okay!” Stick blurts in interuption, a wide-eyed look thrown Scruffy’s way. He remembered the warning from his batchmate that this brother of a different batch was once pretty tight-fisted about the rules and regulations as a Shiny, because they offered comfort and stability to a cadet with a higher than typical obedience before he learned that the regulation manuals couldn’t teach you everything. The reg manuals couldn’t teach you about the effect losing your brothers has on a soldier. Canvas stopped being quite such a stickler for the rules when Gunnar disobeyed the order to retreat to the natural cover provided by a ridge before returning fire and-

> Good idea, see if walking around the ship will help him. Permission granted.  

Thank you, Sir.

He pitches the communicator onto his bunk and strides across the private quarters suggested by the medical crew that was mercifully signed off on by the COs. “We’ve been granted permission. C’mon, you two.” Scruffy declares, hoisting Canvas up to his feet by the wrists. “Let’s go stretch our legs, little brother.”

Canvas slumps forward, fatigue weighing down his every limb. He’s so tired. He’s so paranoid. He’s so traumatized. “O-okay…” Scruffy supports him on one side, Stick the other, and the three Clones leave their temporary quarters to walk the ship aimlessly. Scruffy didn't have anywhere particular in mind, just anywhere else away from the room Canvas has effectively made into a foxhole. 

I should thank the brothers in Laundry for sneaking us all these extra blankets, soon, Scruffy thinks to himself, tucking the blanket Canvas had essentially swaddled himself in back over his shoulders when it slips. 

“Hey, Scruff? I thought of somethin'. You know where the replacement armor depot and rec rooms are on this level, right?”

Scruffy gives his batchmate a quizzical look. “Yeah… why?” He'd already gotten the parts of his armor that couldn't be repaired after the detonation replaced and repainted in their unit's color. He'd had to make several secretive runs to collect more paint after he kept knocking over the containers in his haste to rescue Canvas from yet another panicked awakening several nights in a row. Had to send several sets of sleepwear to Laundry after hastily smearing paint on them to clean his hands. Clean hands Scruffy needed to clean up his brother's tears or hug him or pull him out of bed to settle him down.

"Back so soon, Scruffy! This is the second time tonight. Whaddya need?"

"Clean set of sleepers, please… Got paint on em, don't want the stain to set." 

"Uh oh. Canvas again, yeah? Poor kid. Here… Fresh set of sleepers for the three of you. Blankets, too."

"Thanks… appreciate it. Off to the armor depot to pick up some paint remover."

Stick scratches behind his left ear to think. “Well I uh… heard a rumor that if you ask someone in the depot for it, they've got a bad batch of armor paint they're trying to find uses for. Say it's too thin and runny to properly adhere to plastoid but it'd probably be better suited for wood or something." 

It has turned out that more Clones than just Carver, and Stick, as Scruffy had come to find out, had a penchant for finding and collecting the odd scrap of wood here and there as little tokens from this ongoing campaign. Or as art material. The General has joked fondly on more than one occasion that they must have cut as many logs as they have battle droids with their lightsaber in the name of their men so the troops have more manageable sized pieces of wood to work and create with.

"How beautiful it is that so many of these men desire to breathe creation into this galaxy, each work of art as unique and distinct as them all." 

"So… that's a 'yes, I nicked myself with my own lightsaber and would like my team medic to check the wound' because you got excited rather than tired, then, General?"

"Hah, I suppose so."

Disposable canisters of paint and brushes from the depot, some whittled token for Stick to work with and paper-like material for Scruffy in case he doesn't care for the wood he's selected from the scrap pile, they find an empty, circular table in the unofficial rec center and "make camp", so to speak. Scruffy is flanked by Canvas on his left, Stick his right, to allow him to keep Canvas close in the way that's most comforting to him while keeping his more dominant hand free. In the matters of painting, Scruffy found his right hand was better suited for controlling the brushes, while he felt he was better with a blaster in his left. 

They were trained to be dual-handed, ambidextrous, on their mother-world of Kamino. But brothers tended to favor certain hands for certain tasks. Stick always ate with his left hand, and shot primarily with his left, too. However, when he creates, like Scruffy, he's right-handed. Canvas is the inverse; primarily right-handed when it comes to how he eats and fights, but left handed for most other matters. Scruffy was more balanced, equally comfortable using either hand for anything at the end of the day. 

Canvas doesn't want to do anything but watch, too tired or too uninterested, arms stitched tightly around Scruffy's waist with his head laying over his brother's heart. Stick is more interested in rifling through the colors the crew stationed in the depot gave them for their creative efforts; decided on what carved item he wishes to paint, at least.

He's not sure what he wants to paint yet, but Scruffy knows that he should at least get started on something to keep himself calm instead of actively fretting. If Canvas's ear was just above his heart, then he was probably using this organic timer to measure out his own clarity and calm. "Hey, could I borrow the blue?" Stick requests in a soft voice. By following his batchmate's lead, maybe, hopefully, Stick hopes Canvas will be kept calm enough to decide to test his luck and sleep. 

"Sure. Whatcha paintin'?" Didn't look like anything Carver made to his memory, so it must have been one of the friends his little brother made during his time as a Shiny. Looked to be some kind of livestock from some far-flung corner of the galaxy.

Stick shrugged. "Uh… I forget what he called it. Just remember he said it was mostly blue." 

"Fair enough." 

"What're you painting?" 

"Mm," Scruffy hummed in thought, laying down a washing of white paint as a base coat on the wood square in careful, steady strokes, "thinking about that still. Maybe an Aiwha. Or a bird. Or… something." Just needed something to keep him busy, keep him engaged and focused on something that would keep Canvas's mind occupied on anything else. Anything else than the memory or thought of the dreams he's been having about losing his brothers. If silent observation was what he wanted, found comfort in, Scruffy would give that to Canvas.

He'd go so far to give the armor with the collar of paint around the neck off his back to a brother in need. Whatever it would take to uphold that oath to Faro. 

I'll protect our little brother.

I'd do anything to comfort him, too.

So yes, we're now sitting in the rec room at nearly 0400 after spending half an hour walking around aimlessly before we got the paints, and-

"You've gotten really good with a brush, Scruff." 

The compliment throws him off track for just a heartbeat, the break in the comfortable silence only punctuated by the soft inhale and exhale of breath between the wet sweeping of paint-laden brushes unexpected. "Thanks, Stick." There's a muted hum of agreement from Canvas that he can feel through his brother's chest. "Thank you too, Canvas. How're you feeling right now? Sleepy?" 

There's no reply, verbal or otherwise, and the soft patter of his heartbeat Scruffy can just barely make out being held so close, like he'd drift away with the tide if Canvas relaxed his arms even a fraction, changed only slightly. 

"That's okay, brother. You don't have to answer. Only wondering." Scruffy assures him, the arm draped around his shoulders constricts softly to give him a comforting squeeze. "Like… have you been told why his name is Stick, yet?" Scruffy feels the answer, a gentle bumping of Canvas's chin against his chest as he shakes his head no. 

His batchmate chuckles quietly. "It's silly. I scratched my CT number into a stick I found nearby and used it to hold my place in line for receiving our evening rations because I desperately had to, y'know, "help a thirsty tree"... One of the COs was wondering why there was a gap in the line and asked why there was a stick in line when he went to inspect things, asked what a stick was doing in line right around the time I came back. Looked the CO straight in the eye and said "Oh that's me, Sir!", completely serious-like. I accidentally named myself Stick."

"And… you didn't want to change it?" Canvas asks in a small voice. It's the first he's spoken since he suggested he believed they'd be in trouble if they were out of their room after-hours on this part of the massive Venator-class ship. 

Stick smiles brightly, surprised just like Scruffy that Canvas was actually talking. "Nah. The look on the CO's face was too funny and the joke got away from me quickly. Took on a life of its own so fast that other soldiers actually kept using that placeholder I made to keep my spot in line several times. I just decided to lean into it; claim it for myself." 

"Do you… still have it?"

Stick nodded, blotting the smallest brush clean for Scruffy so he could use it next. "Yeah. It's in one of the lockers with the rest of my things back in the room, actually. Here, trade with you so you're not trying to use the edge of such a thick brush to paint such thin lines, Scruff." 

"Oh, thanks…" Scruffy murmurs, finding the tiny tip much easier to control to properly convey the shape of his subject. A little bird sitting in cupped hands.

"Is that a… uh, what'd the General call them again? Spearoos?"

Scruffy chuckles, amused by the mispronounced attempt. "Sparrows. Little birds they'd see at the Jedi Temple, apparently. They sounded cute." he admits with a shrug. The more he learned from Canvas about the various birds of the galaxy, the more he could understand why they fascinated this brother from another batch. There were just so many. So many fascinating evolutionary niches, adaptations, colors, sizes, even types of plumage. There was no shortage of information to learn about avian life of the galaxy outside their rainy mother-world. 

"What kind of…?" Canvas yawned halfway through his question, head drooping a little deeper.

"Oh… I dunno yet." Scruffy suddenly had an idea. He'd come back to working on the sparrow. Hands cupping the sparrow now found themselves at the ends of bent arms encircled in armor. "You'll get to decide once I'm done painting you." 

"... me? You're gonna paint me?" Canvas stubbornly blinks away the fatigue steadily tugging his eyelids shut the longer they're in this quiet recreation center. Every Clone who comes in from the outer halls of the ship, initially bursting with exuberant laughter, falls silent when they see the three brothers sat around the little table, one of them slumped so far down in his chair while draped in a blanket, practically sharing his brother's shadow. The rumors have gotten around fast. 

If for any reason you see a particularly anxious trooper huddled in the hall outside the infirmary, that's not a Shiny scared about his check-up. Please seek out Scruffy or his batchmate Stick immediately. They'll be the only ones who can settle Canvas down. 

The permanent crew has heard of the ordeal just a week and a half ago, and they've made sure to advise all brothers and batchmates to show Scruffy, Stick and Canvas some extra support and patience because this "I'm having too many nightmares to sleep properly" cycle has been going on for four days, at least. Those entering the room become hushed with one quick glance at the trio. 

Scruffy waves in return to those entering to be polite. At last, he answers Canvas with a "Yeah, why not?" paired with a little shrug and gentle nod. "Would be good practice, too." 

Thank Kamino's steady rains and her endless, yawning seas… 

Canvas was actually asleep. 

This whole time, Scruffy just needed to hold Canvas close and sit in relative quiet in order to coax his brother into sleeping. With any luck, a sleep that was not burdened with pain-soaked memories of how he'd lost his batchmates to this galaxy. Hopefully that sweet-tempered, tiny smile was brought about by dreaming of happier times with those brothers. Maybe he was dreaming of Faro holding him and maybe all his brothers close during one of the rare times they had no training, no studies to complete. Or remembering a time he perhaps straddled Gunnar’s shoulders to reach or see something on a high shelf, maybe even racing down the halls pretending they were riding on the back of an Aiwha, instead. Maybe he was hand-sparring with Cryfar for fun, throwing sloppy punches with the intention of making a brother crack and break down into peals of laughter that lasted until their sides ached and their heads felt light. He could have been fantasizing with Fluke all the planets they’d see once they were shipped off to fight in the name of the Republic, the name of their brothers, their homeworld. 

Fantasizing and brainstorming their Names. Their paint patterns. If they’d get brave and step outside the uniformity of the regulation haircut and get wild with it. If they’d be lucky and survive long enough to no longer be Shinies, but be the seasoned, experienced soldiers they’d been bred for, bred in the after-image of a late bounty hunter. Wishfully thinking they’d outlast the war.

Similar things Scruffy had done himself with his own batchmates. 

“Who’s scuff mark is that?” Stick mumbles, whispering in a sleepy voice as he points to the scuff that spans across the split in the chestplate that denotes the “pecs” of the armor, just under the chin of the Phase II helmet.

“Faro’s…” Scruffy whispers back, carefully dabbing his brush to gather a miniscule amount of black paint to mix into the white on the makeshift mixing palette to make more of the light gray. “His scuff mark is above ‘Vas’s… almost like he’s…” 

Looking down on his little brother. 

Oh how poetic. 

“Kriff…” Stick murmurs, thinking the same exact thing, bottom lip quivering. He’s heard what Scruffy experienced in those two minutes, heard the dreamscape he wandered through, heard the promise made to a fallen brother. “Do you… think he is, if he’s able to?”

Scruffy never had the time to ask Faro questions like that. Questions he wished he’d thought of at the time in hindsight. “If Faro can, I hope he does…” Could Faro see how confident and self-assured Canvas had become after adopting a name from the words of a CO? Did Gunnar feel honored that his bravery inspired Canvas to offer support to their brothers in the middle of a firefight? Would Cryfar laugh knowing that Canvas would take a deep breath to settle himself if he got overexcited or stumbled over his words? Could Fluke find it in him to be glad rather than guilty that Canvas inspected his rations for signs of spoilage no matter how tired, how hungry, he’d be to avoid preventable sickness? 

Would ‘Vas’s batchmates never doubt for a moment that they’d asked the right person to take the task of protecting their little brother?

"Wow… it really looks like him so far." Stick whispers. 

Scruffy needs to give the work more color still beyond the shading of the white armor and the paint of their unit. He'd done all the linework and painted Canvas in his armor and his six little scuff marks. But now he needs to take care to mix up the paints available to him to get the skin tone just right. There had been no basic brown in the depot to build off of, so he'd have to create it himself. 

Let's see… complimentary colors could make brown in most cases. And Canvas… in natural light, in perfect health, didn't he have more red undertones to that bronzed skin? Almost a less saturated mahogany? Hmm. He'd have to play around with the color mixing for a while to make sure Canvas didn't end up looking so light and pale, or too dark. 

After a painstaking process of getting the shade perfect, Scruffy could finish capturing his brother's likeness. The jaw and broad nose looked less flat and stiff with the color introduced by his brush. Carefully building up that color, Canvas's face on the cut of wood became softer, rounder, more humanized. 

Human. They were all human. Their General told Scruffy when he first found his name that they, the Clones, the sons of Kamino, all of them felt unique in the Force. Cut from the largest bolt of cloth the galaxy had ever kriffing seen to anyone else, but distinct to the Force-wielders. 

"There is a protective nature to you, son. You might make a fine leader for your brothers in this war. I can feel it; how many of them feel safer with you watching out for them. Perhaps… even the ones who don't want to admit it. But especially to that brother who I came to assist in his descent from the treetops, just the other week." 

"M-me, a leader? Oh, uh… Thank you, General… I don't know what to say." 

"You are very perceptive, Scruffy; it has been hard not to take notice. And I can sense that you have questions. You are welcome to ask." 

"Do you still hear the fluttering? When talking about our brother we're all worried about, I mean."

"I do. The sound has… gotten slower, less frantic. But I do not feel it means he's giving up. I sense it means something else for him." 

Scruffy has to pause for a moment, giving the paintbrush to a half-asleep Stick so he can adjust his support on Canvas, carefully sit him up so he doesn't strain his neck with an uncomfortable angle or lack of support after he's practically doubled-over since sitting at the table. "Easy… please stay asleep…"

Stick gives his batchmate the brush again, murmuring that he's just gonna lay his head down on the table and rest his eyes. The sun is slowly peering over the horizon on this side of the planet and it's getting in his eyes. It's almost daybreak. 

"Go ahead, I'm almost done. Just need to… paint one last… thing, then we can see if we can carry him back to the room before this side of the ship officially wakes up." 

The little sparrow. Scruffy just needed to finish the little sparrow, but Canvas was likely in a deeper sleep now because shifting him didn't cause him to stir in the slightest. So he wasn't available to say what kind of sparrow Scruffy should try painting. But at least Scruffy knew his brother's favorite color. 

Orange. He could make the little sparrow orange.

Not just any old shade of orange, either. A very distinct orange. 

Saffron. 

A beautiful surprise sometimes found in the middle of golden and blush-pink sunrises. Dramatic and demanding in the red and purple sunsets. Canvas hoped to try something with Ithorian saffron in it one day. And as far as oranges went, to Scruffy's recollection, it didn't show up in many birds and their plumage across the galaxy. 

Stick yawns and tells him not to be a perfectionist about it. Just paint the bird orange, add a few details and call it good. Scruffy carefully hums in agreement, saying it shouldn't take long. He should be finished soon.

The CO strides down the hall, hearing the chatter through the Clone rumor network that the trio from his unit could be found in the rec center. There's been a lot of chatter.

"They've been in there since almost 0400. It's nearly time for the mess to start serving breakfast for this side of the ship. You think they're okay?" 

"I dunno. You've heard how Scruffy's brothers have been since the guy got himself blown up and came back from the dead; Stick actually wants to talk to him again and the other one… what's his name again? Vas?"

"Canvas."

"Ah, got it. Well Canvas has been inseparable from Scruffy ever since-"

Why were so many troops of a different unit stopped in the hallway, slowly peeking into the doorway of this level's rec center in groups before moving on to get some sleep? "Boys, you know what safety protocol is for the halls." Too many brothers lingering in the halls made for dangerous bottlenecks. Too many lives to potentially lose in one place if they were to come under Separatist fire. There's a mixed rippling of apologetic sorry sir-s and we'll go-s and you should see it for yourself-s that makes the CO sigh gently. "That's what I'm here for, trooper. Get yourself to bed and sleep well." 

"Yessir." The reply comes with some salutes.

The CO finds the three young soldiers of his unit, his brothers, slumped at the table together, asleep, save for one. Head propped in his hand, elbow firmly on the table, Scruffy was just teetering on the edge of consciousness, his left arm curled around Canvas. Almost all Clone brothers have the same rich, brown eyes, but there's something that is profoundly, simultaneously doleful and calm when Scruffy looks up from the table to politely acknowledge his superior officer. 

"Good morning, Sir. Sleep well?" 

He can tell Scruffy hasn't gotten so much as an hour, or even half, of sleep since granting "permission" to roam the ship to ease Canvas's paranoia. He wonders whose idea it was to stop by the depot for the bad batch of armor paint and come into the recreation center on this level. 

"Well enough, I suppose… Have you gotten any sleep, soldier?" 

"No, sir. But…" Scruffy glances down at Canvas, still fast asleep, still bearing that tiny, tender smile, "...that's okay. I'll get an opportunity later. I think… I think this is the way to help 'Vas, though." 

The CO is slightly surprised. Holding him while he sleeps, like a little nat-born child? Was it really that simple in the end? 

He has to check,"Did you get a sedative from Medical?"

Scruffy shakes his head. "No sir."  

"Huh. Well, if it works-"

"-don't kriff with it." his soldier closes out the saying held close to the heart of many a battlefield medic. "Should… probably get back to our room so others can use the rec room without needing to walk on their toes. Stick. Wake up, brother. C'mon…" Created and trained for war, but so perceptive and kind, Scruffy is telling his CO indirectly that he'll get the three of them out of everyone's curled hair.

Scruffy will have his hands full carrying Canvas back, and Stick is bleary-eyed as he stumbles to his feet, swearing sharply under his breath when he drops the whittled farm animal. (Hmm, he's curious as to who made that; it doesn't seem like Carver's work.) The CO stoops down and reaches under the table, "Here, just follow your brother, Stick. I've got it." He collects the other item that bears evidence of importance to his brothers, and with relief finds the paint is long dry. He'll return to clean up their table later. 

"Thanks, sir…" Stick yawns, trying to clear his vision. He nods simply, hand on Stick's shoulder to better guide him after Scruffy back to their room. 

As they walk in relative silence, aside from Scruffy's soft-spoken "conversation" with himself, seemingly. 

That's been a new quirk for this soldier, since the detonation. Since his batchmate brought him back from the brink. Talking to himself. 

Except just as they reach the quarters temporarily assigned to the trio, the CO catches Scruffy drop a name for the first time. "Wish I knew what your favorite color was, Faro. Maybe I could've made your brother's portrait even more symbolic by making your scuff mark your favorite color instead of the color of Our unit. Really make Canvas look like a painter's pallet or something; wouldn't that be funny?" 

Scruffy was talking to Faro. That was the third batchmate Canvas had lost not long into his first campaign off of Kamino. He remembers Faro for his stoicism and a fond eye he only seemed to hold for his batchmates, for whatever the reason. Sadly the COs and the General never had the opportunity to get through to this soldier before he was forever lost to the galaxy not long after finding a Name. 

For the first time, before he'll have to give it to Scruffy, the CO takes a closer look at this thin sheet of wood he picked up off the table.

It's a face that millions, maybe billions of Clone troopers bare, but it's still undeniably Canvas. The portrait has his gentle, coal-dark curls of hair and the dark, doe-like eyes that exaggerated his emotions. He remembers seeing Canvas, then just a number, a plastoid puppy, when he disembarked the gunships full of reinforcements. The kid had such an expressive face. And here, it was captured in a perfect expression of serenity. 

Canvas has been painted in his Phase II armor, save for his hands at chest level; lacking the gloves and gauntlet plates. Cupped in his hands is a little orange bird, backdropped by his gray-ish scuff mark. But his scuff mark near the plackart is not glazed over in Their color. It's completely barren of paint.

The scuff marks of his batchmates are coated in paint, however. Faro's above Canvas's. Gunnar's is on the left shoulder bell and part of the shoulder on the chestplate. Cryfar's is on the left, on a lower part of the chestplate just before it touches the seam where chest and backplate meet. Fluke's is on the right side of the chestplate, near the space the arm comes through. 

His batchmates' scuffs surround his own with color to frame Canvas's gentle hands, carrying a little orange bird, and the CO can see with each deliberate stroke of the brush that this entire portrait has been carried out with the sentiment of another brother's love for him. 

Bacta, nysillin, both were some damn good stuff in the way of medicine out in this galaxy, but love… 

It didn't matter the type. Romantic. Platonic. Familial. Love was some of the best medicine to soothe a troubled mind, a fearful heart, a struggling brother. It was far from Canvas's fault something in him was so fearful, so frightened again; like he had been from the very first step off the gunship. 

It was far from Scruffy's fault as well, the CO hearing the thin GAR-issue mattress creak with the additional weight as two troopers sandwich Scruffy once Stick joins them. They were young. These three were more experienced than when they had been Shinies, but they would all have their slip ups. Even him, and his other commanding officer who he worked with regularly due to the nature of this campaign. 

The General blames themselves for trying to warn Scruffy too late about the laser trip wire. Each CO individually blames themselves for not looking out for his brother better. They'd just rather Scruffy not take the blame while he's focused on trying to take care of a slightly younger brother once again because he has so much love for his brothers. 

That was a good thing. 

"Sleep well, boys." He sets the portrait of Canvas down near the bed, pulling one of the many, many blankets he finds on the floor up and over Scruffy and his little brothers. 

A brother's love could be such a healing thing.

[Clone OC Masterlist]

Tagging @stardust9905 just to make sure that you see this, since you had asked if there was going to be more. 🩷

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#frostfics #Comforting Little Brothers #star wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #sw tcw #tcw #star wars tcw #the clone wars fanfiction #tcw fanfic #star wars headcanons #tcw headcanons #clone oc: canvas #clone oc: gunnar/faro/cryfar/fluke #clone oc: scruffy #clone oc: stick #clone oc: commander juke #clone oc: captain law #jedi oc: caelen

[mtlibrary]

A blog post from Jack Alphey, a work experience placement student from King’s College London

For the last several weeks, I have been working on reading through and cataloguing 18th century legal manuscripts within the Middle Temple Library. Having readily available and digitized information about the contents of manuscripts will allow easier access for researchers to the information they want to find. Thus far, I have found many interesting cases. From questions as to whether the theft of live pigeons was a felony to complex cases of financial fraud. Perhaps the most interesting thus far, however, is the case of theft from the Indian John Morgan in 1765 found within a manuscript of notes made at the Old Bailey from 1765-1769.[1]

On the surface, the case is very simple. Three prisoners allegedly stole money and several items of clothing from Morgan. Morgan’s origins in India came up both in the crime and the legal proceedings, and it appears that two of the prisoners were found guilty. After this case, however, the manuscript records a following argument in court over whether John Morgan was guilty of perjury. What was unique about Morgan was that he was a “Mahometan” (an earlier English term for someone of the Muslim faith) and he was only willing to swear an oath on the Qur’an instead of the Bible. My assumption here was that the solution would be a fairly simple yes.

In contrast, however, the court came to a conclusion which upheld Morgan’s testimony. Once the court had become “satisfied of the Belief of Mahometans in a Deity” they deemed the Qur’an “to be their method of being sworn”. Seemingly the importance was in a valid belief that would make an oath taker stay honest instead of requiring a state sanctioned ‘true God’. Hidden at the back of the manuscript, however, is a copy of a letter from “Mr Gould” (that is, Sir Henry Gould, 1710-1794) addressing the case written in 1784, nineteen years after the ruling. This letter provides an admonition on the ruling citing the importance of “corporal oaths”. This was something, in Gould’s eyes, that could only be undertaken by a Christian touching the Bible in front of the Christian God. According to Sir Henry’s reasoning, Morgan’s oath on the Qur’an made his testimony perjury. What happened to John Morgan does not seem public. Did the letter almost two decades later pertain to his actual future or simply to future theory? 

This case is useful, however, in letting us address the lives and trials of non-Western and non-Christian individuals within Britain in this period. Morgan was clearly a man of means: he had a significant amount of money stolen, as shown by the case. This lines up in name, location, and time to be the Indian John Morgan seen working with the artist George Stubbs during his paintings of exotic animals.[2] When a crime was committed, however, Morgan’s testimony put him in danger with the Christian rigidity of the courts. Rare cases like these provide insight into the British system’s struggles and resistances to adapting to a world in which differences such as other religions would more commonly find their way integrating and how this challenged existing institutions.

Jack Alphey, MA student King’s College London

[1] https://www.middletemplelibrary.org.uk/client/en_GB/default/search/results?qu=ms47&te=

[2] Mark Sorrell, ‘A Zebra, A Tigress, and a Cheetah: New Light on George Stubbs’ Exotic Animal Subjects’, British Art Journal, 15 (2014), https://go.gale.com/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA389175724&sid=googleScholar&v=2.1&it=r&linkaccess=abs&issn=14672006&p=AONE&sw=w&userGroupName=anon%7Efd5ab7ed? (accessed 28th February 2023).

#law library #library #libraries #history #inns of court #books & libraries #manuscript #rarebook

[wendingways]

Anne Shirley in the GFFA

Yes, you read that correctly.

You see, a very strange plot bunny has been lurking in my brain for months, now.

What if Anne Shirley, and maybe someone else from the Green Gables books, somehow ended up in the GFFA toward the end of the Clone Wars? Thinking maybe Anne of Avonlea-era Anne, when she's a teacher and Marilla takes in Davy and Dora Keith.

I just think it would be really funny, because of how Anne is always encountering twins, wherever she goes, and then Luke and Leia are born while she's in the GFFA, and... yep, checks out.

I wonder who Anne would find to be a kindred spirit. If she got to see Yoda's whimsical side, I almost think she might find him to be one? And possibly Padmé? I see a lot of Anne's idealism in Padmé.

She would get to the SW galaxy through the Haunted Wood, one dark and misty night when she's taking the twins back home after a visit to somewhere, perhaps.

Anne would find plenty of "scope for imagination" on Naboo, she'd find it absolutely delightful. As for Anidala and the Set and Veré scheme, she'd be in raptures over the romance of it all.

Oh Force help us, if Davy and Dora happened to be along for the ride.... "Davy Keith! Don't walk on the edge of the veranda, or you'll fall to your death!"

Davy's opinions on kriff, kark, fierfek, etc.:

"They're the bulliest swears, Anne, and they ain't blasphemous 'cause there ain't God here, so I guess it can't offend him."

"No, Davy, but they're coarse and vulgar in another way entirely, and little boys still shouldn't say them," Anne admonished.

And Dora, remarking on some of the people they meet:

"Mrs. Rachel would say they're ungodly and wicked heathens," Dora observed, primly.

"Oh, Dora, I don't think anyone can be wicked who's kind and wise."

If Anne is dropped onto Coruscant, Padmé takes her in, she becomes some sort of aide, goes to the Senate with Padmé. "I don't like that man," she told Padmé, watching the Chancellor. "He is NOT a kindred spirit. Something in his eyes reminds me of [Mrs. Blewett, or someone else unpleasant like that]."

Her patroness' wardrobe would also send Anne into raptures. "Why, it's just like the wardrobe of a princess from one of the stories the girls and I used to write! Oh, Padmé, I could live in here for eons with no sustenance but to feast my eyes upon the splendor!"

Nightmare night. Mid-conversation, Padmé and Anakin hear a crash from outside. Anakin immediately ready to fight someone, Padmé's just like "Davy!" Living room or kitchen, find Anne and Davy. Who's broken something or other on a midnight foray for food. Could lead to a more productive conversation that leads to Anakin being a little more rational.

Also, Padmé and Anakin get a preview of what the next several years of their lives will be like, with a child in the house. And they're like, "Oh, thank goodness we'll only have the one." (Joke's on them there, of course.)

Anne gets through to Anakin about Obi-Wan. "Maybe he's like Marilla. She's... well, I suppose she's most like an aunt. She adopted me, but I could never imagine thinking of her as a mother. She isn't at all the motherly sort. She's prickly as a thornbush, and she seemed oh-so-stern, austere, really, and it took simply ages to thaw her out. She was always disapproving of my messes and scrapes--and oh, there were a lot of scrapes, especially early on--but... oh dear, I'm rambling on again. Anyway, Marilla is not what one would call an affectionate woman, but I just know she loves me, because she's put up with all my scrapes, and if she does correct me, it's because she cares. She didn't care at the start, you see, not that way. She only cared enough to keep me so that horrible Mrs. Blewett wouldn't take me instead, which is really just what any good, upstanding person would do. And I think maybe your Obi-Wan is the same way. After all, it's a pretty difficult thing to raise a child and not come to love them in some way."

Somehow, this all leads to Anakin not falling and Palpatine being properly disposed of.

I may actually try writing this one, because, weird idea though it is, I also think it could weirdly work. Anne Shirley has this way of improving all the lives she touches, and I see no reason why that wouldn't continue in the GFFA.

Any opinions on who Anne might find to be kindred spirits in the GFFA? I'm leaning toward Padmé and maybe Yoda (maybe), but I'd love to hear any other suggestions!

#star wars #anne of green gables #plot bunny #crossover #fix it au #crossover au #fic ideas #anne shirley #anakin skywalker #padmé amidala #this idea is a weird one #but I'm also weirdly here for it

[ratherbefangirling]

you & I : pt.1 An Old Abandoned House

N E X T

pairing; Unspecified member X Reader { I imagine it being Jungkook}

genre: poem fic, angst, romance, strangers to lovers to strangers again

summary: some love stories seem like dreams but end up as haunting nightmares

Her POV

Slow soft hollow words

Words that you said

I think of them

Instead of listening

To what my friend has to say

She waves her hand

Where were You,

She asks me.

Where was I

I think

I was in a lovers paradise

Until I realized

My lover didn't love me.

I still reminisce

Your warm embrace

I was in my tormentors arms

Until they couldn't hold me

I couldn't take the risk and bear that sweet agony.

Nowhere,

I reply.

I try to concentrate on what she has to say

Who was He,

She asks me finally.

The one who broke your heart,

She clarifies.

Who were you

She asks

I don't know

I never claimed to know you

I was just trying to find out

I knew things about you

And

I tell her.

When I first saw him,

I tell her sipping on my drink delaying it

So she gets bored and leaves the topic

Like I left you.

But it was not because I didn't find you interesting

No

You were the most intriguing person

I had met

was ever likely to meet.

I met him in a porch of an old abandoned house which I never knew existed until this fateful summer,

I stop

inhaling

When I first saw him he was covered in bellows of smoke,

Escaping from his lips

Each inch of his body was covered with ink,

I tell her attentive face.

Did you talk to him,

She asks.

Not just then,

I admit

I went again hoping to find him

He wasn't there

I started coming everyday cause I liked it there

The lake the trees the chirping birds

Singing and free.

What happened then,

She asks doubting.

He came back the boy I had seen

And when I looked at him

I was awestruck

I had never seen someone like him

He told me it was his place

I was disappointed

I didn't want to leave

Can I stay here

I asked him

He thought for a moment

And what a long moment it was

He looked and his eyes stopped at the sketch

You draw he asked

Yes sometimes

If you show me your drawings I will let you come here

He said.

He smiled at me his crooked smile

And I swear nobody had smiled like that

Never smiled so when they were looking at me.

I wondered what he liked in them,

I tell her.

Wondering what you liked in me.

We met each other everyday And slowly we covered every distance there was to cover

All in a number of days,

I continue.

I tell her that you liked taking pictures

Not telling her you traced each nook and corner of me

I tell her you were very artistic

And that you for some reason liked the smell of my shampoo

I tell her that you dressed in a fashion that only you could pull off

Not that we cared about clothes you and me

I tell her you seemed to smell like sirens do

Not that you tasted like ashes

I tell her your eyes changed

Oscillating between clear skies and stroms

Not that I spent hours gazing at them

I tell her I learned every story of each tattoo on your skin

Not that you got our initials engraved on the skin of your heart

I tell her that you had a sweet soothing voice not the sweet things whispered in my ears

I tell her he didn't love me

Not the fact that you needed me Like lungs needed air

That I needed you

Like the earth needs the sun

We needed each other so much

It broke both us and our hearts

You said you only felt that you breathed because of me

I told you how you gave me direction and added meaning to my days

I tell her that I stopped going back because I couldn't do it anymore

I loved him too much and that wrecked me..

I knew it would destroy us this love and do him no good

He told me he could be strong for me

But I couldn't be the person

Who shattered him

Who snatched away all his hope

And set fire to his dreams

I wouldn't let him ruin himself

For the sake of ever changing feelings

I tell her

Not that what we felt would ever change

I stopped it from increasing but what I had for him was more than enough and yet not enough at all,

I tell her

I remember the day I left you

You begged me to stay

And I swear when I came home

I was only crying more

Only breaking more

You must have thought it was easy

For me to let go

It only proves

How much you didn't know

About me

And it would only destroy us more

So I became

The villain in our love story

And like all evils

I lost

I lost you.

I still don't take your name

I don't tell her

And she doesn't need to know

Whose heart I broke

She doesn't need to know

You were my one chance at love

My only lover

She doesn't need to know

That you were

My only hope

In this bleary dreadful world

Before you became her prince

She doesn't need to know

That if I say so

Even today

You'll come back

To the old abandoned house

To me.

Hope you like it !!

Feedback Appreciated!

#bts #bts fanfic #bts au #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #jung hoseok #min yoongi #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #jimin x you #hobi x reader #yoongi x you #jin x you #namjoon x you #bts bookshelves #poem #poem fic

[writingforfun0714]

Ok spoilers for the Bad Batch S2!!

So the new trailer has been out for a few days now and I’m surprised I haven’t seen a lot of talk about Cody. Like, yes, I’ve seen theories related to what will happen to Cody, but I’m specifically talking about Cody’s new armor.

In CW, Cody wore the traditional white and yellow/gold of the 212th. In the trailer, he wears white and gray armor. The only time we’ve seen an armor color change was the 104th (Wolffe and the Wolffepack). Master Plo Koon lost most of his original battalion during the Malevolence arc (in S1). They used to wear a rusty brown accented color but after that arc, they are shown to wear gray (in honor of those that died).

So what does that mean for Cody and his new armor? Is it gray just cuz the GAR is gone/disappearing or did something happen to the rest of the 212th?? They better leave the clone boys alone I swear. Filoni, you wanna mess someone up, use your new storm troopers—but leave the clones alone.

I don’t know anything about Legends/EU but do the clones keep their color after O66? I know the remaining 501st (those that stormed the Temple—not those w/ Ahsoka/Rex), after O66, is referred to as ‘Vader’s Fist’ or something. Do they still wear the blue of the 501st or do they wear gray like Cody in the new trailer?

Anyways, I was just curious about Cody’s armor. I hadn’t seen it mentioned (sorry if I missed something) so I figured I’d bring it up.

As for what’ll happen to Cody, I obviously hope he survives. Just cuz Filoni had plans for a Rex vs Cody thing/thought Cody would die doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll die this season. SW is pretty well-known for having characters disappear into hiding (Yoda, Obi-wan, Ahsoka, Cal, Ventress etc). SW also has brought back characters assumed to be dead like Gregor and Echo.

I’ve seen a few popular theories going around:

1: Cody’s gonna hunt down CF99 and Rex is gonna have to protect them by killing Cody.

2: Cody’s gonna hunt down CF99 w/ Crosshair and want to kill them. Crosshair, obviously not wanting his bros to die, will kill Cody himself.

3: Cody’s gonna have his ‘questioning moment’ like Rex did w/ Ahsoka during O66 (him hesitating and telling her to find Fives) and protect CF99 from the Empire/swarms of storm troopers, sacrificing himself.

What I’d like to see happen:

Cody and Crosshair hunt down CF99+Rex. The big group splits into 2–Crosshair+batchers and Rex/Echo/Cody. Crosshair has a convo w/ Hunter, Wrecker and Tech about the Empire while Rex+Echo talk w/ Cody, definitely bringing up Obiwan/Anakin/Ahsoka. Rex gets Cody to doubt himself/his loyalties to the Empire, but worries there’s nowhere to go/run. But it just so happens that Rex knows a certain senator (Bail Organa) that’s been helping remaining Jedi/clones/people still loyal to the Republic. Rex puts Bail in touch w/ Cody. Bail mentions a certain general on Tatooine and Cody starts crying cuz he thought he killed Obi and Rex and Cody HUG (like tight gripping/crying all of it). Cody’s relieved Obi’s still alive, but immediately thinks about Rex and Anakin and asks about General Skywalker and comforts Rex when he tells Cody ‘only Commander Tano survived’ or something (at this point not even Ahsoka knows Vader=Anakin, she doesn’t find out until Rebels).

Anyways, the episode/story would end and Crosshair decides to go off on his own (not w/ the Empire or w/ CF99–think Boba/Ventress in later seasons) and Cody (who gets his chip removed) decides to go w/ Rex to meet up w/ Bail (I imagine they would have talked through a communication device/hologram or something). Bail sets Cody up w/ a small ship that’s nondescript and ready to go to Tatooine. The last shot is of Cody’s ship heading towards a beige/tan planet w/ 2 suns with Cody’s voice saying ‘I’ll find you’ referring to Obi or something.

I also loved the idea that Dex (the diner owner from AotC) knows some of the 212th boys since he’s good friends w/ Obi and Cody walks in one day acting different (still chipped). Dex gets all suspicious and whacks Cody w/ a frying pan (think Rapunzel/Flynn from Tangled) and that messes w/ the chip (cuz Wrecker hit his head and made it worse). Cody gets it taken out and thanks Dex for helping and tells him if he sees any more clones, to ‘help them out’ so any time a clone comes in, Dex just smacks the shit out of them with a frying pan. Obviously this is more comedic/not really serious, but I saw that post going around and loved the idea. I loved that Obiwan had friends outside the Jedi/clones.

#star wars #star wars bad batch #bad batch #sw tbb #star wars tbb #bad batch analysis #bad batch trailer #bad batch trailer analysis #bad batch s2 #bad batch season 2 #tbb s2 #tbb spoilers #bad batch spoilers #dex whacking clones w/ a frying pan is hilarious #dex eyeing cody suspiciously #that boy ain’t right #WHACK #Boil-why are you so cold/stern? #SMACK!

[otasune666]

otacon and snake were talking about ordering pizza for dinner (it was 2:34 am) and i told snake to order the "Among Us Pizza" and he did but the pizza place hung up on him so he called again and tried to enunciate each word very carefully and wouldn't stop calling because he was so determined to order that pizza. i think otacon knew what i was trying to do because he didn't explain the among us part he just stared at me. eventually snake gave up calling so he stomped over to the pizza place he didn't even drive and came back with an among us pizza. otacon and i were of course very shocked by this but it didn't matter much. the pizza tasted fucking awful but snake ate most of it anyway because he's just like that. snake was the first to go to bed, so otacon and i were left in the kitchen. that's when he started giving me a mini lecture.

"Lobster," he said. "You know you shouldn't embarrass Snake like that." i didn't really understand because snake didn't seemed embarrassed or upset at me so i just went along with it.

"I know what your little 'Among Us' game is, and it's not right to lie about there being a pizza about it. Even if Snake, uh, managed to somehow get an actual Among Us pizza. But that's not the point--do you get what I'm trying to say?" of course i said yes and he said a few more things to me that weren't really important, just making sure i wouldn't do something like that again. otacon nodded and smiled at me and went off to bed. i went into my room and thought over what had happened. i didn't get why otacon got so worked up about the among us pizza. it was a harmless joke, and it ended up being real anyways. i fell asleep trying to distract myself from among us.

the next morning, i woke up to a very silent house. usually, i'd hear otacon making something in the kitchen and snake putting all of his 50 huskies on leashes to go out for his morning jog. turns out, i had only slept about 20 minutes and woke up way earlier than the both of them. i walked out to the kitchen to grab a drink of water, when i heard a click, very similar to a door being opened. i froze and looked towards the hallway. otacon was sneaking out of his and snake's room, and heading towards the kitchen. i assumed he couldn't sleep as well, so i didn't bother trying to hide. when he saw i was in the kitchen, he was a bit startled but i didn't think much of it.

"good morning," i said to him, trying not to be awkward. "Good morning, Lobster," he said in a tired, monotonous voice. he opened the fridge and started rustling through it, trying to reach something at the very back. he was frantic about it, like he was running out of time. after a few more moments of rummaging, he pulled out a small vial with red liquid in it and tried to conceal it, thinking i hadn't noticed.

"what'd you need?" i asked, not particularly looking for an answer. "I, um," he cleared his throat. "A m-medicine..? It's not how it sounds, I swear. That is, if you were thinking I was implying said medicine to be drugs. You know?" he smiled. i made a face at him, but he's always super awkward like this, so i shrugged it off.

"yeah, i know," i said nonchalantly, though i couldn't shake the feeling he was up to something else. "i'm going to try to sleep again, see you in the actual morning." this time i fell asleep easier.

then came the actual morning, not the 2:54 morning. i woke up at around 10:30, not an unusual time for me to wake up during a weekend. otacon was nowhere to be found in the house. maybe he was out shopping, i thought to myself. it might have been an early time for shopping, but that's just how otacon can be sometimes.

i joined snake on the couch and watched the news with him. all of it was boring, until this one part. it switched to shaky camera footage aimed towards a big red thing running through the neighborhood. a reporter talked over the recording, but the commentary didn't really help since the reporter didn't even know what they were looking at. then it switched to a different angle, and revealed the red thing to have an extremely familiar shape with an extremely familiar pair of glasses...

it was otacon! ...but not quite. he had turned into the among us impostor from among us. snake and i looked at each other, worried, and bolted out the door straight into his car to go find otacon.

im never finishing this

#the my posts