#they just don’t get enough credit because people think that anyone off the streets can voice act

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i just think that voice actors are criminally underrated and are more talented than any marvel could ever hope to be

#not to rip on marvel but it’s the fact that people tell me that their acting is more impressive all the time #okay not Theirs specifically but live action acting like bestie half of the famous actors aren’t even that great sorry straights just find #them attractive. voice actors are the Best. #this post is dedicated to diana kaarina and robbie daymond btw if you even care #i can prolly name over one hundred voice actors off of the top of my head right now #i just. they’re all so amazing #they just don’t get enough credit because people think that anyone off the streets can voice act #okay chris pratt fans #i made this post at two am this morning and i was so right for this

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 9

Chapter 9: She Walks Through Her Sunken Dream

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC 

Word count: 3.8K

Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.

Chapter Summary: It’s girls' night with Nina and Sophie and the night does not go as planned.

Chapter warnings: forced drug use, dissociation, abduction, mention of SA

A/N: I have been dreading this chapter. But at this point, I just have to post it before I put this story in my back pocket and ride off into the sunset. This chapter is very personal to me. If you or anyone you know is struggling to cope with the aftermath of SA, you have options to get help. Please don’t hesitate to get help, you deserve to heal. Un-beta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me, model for Cover Art credits

Cross-posted on AO3

Spotify Playlist

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Walter’s POV

“I swear I’m okay with it.” I wasn’t okay with it. Why would I be fine with my girlfriend going out in that outfit while there was danger lurking around every corner?

“You’re really not okay with it, and that’s not a terrible thing. You’re my boyfriend and you think I look hot and maybe you think I look too hot to be going out without you,” She finishes putting her earrings on and I just watch her, “I’m torn between finding this very flattering and very annoying. And I’m going to remind you again that I will be with Nina and Sophie and they’ve got my back.”

“I know they’ve got your back, I just know what will be going through those men’s heads.” I cross my arms and look down at her, trying to appear less worried.

“Care to share? Or am I supposed to think that’s enough to keep me inside tonight?” She crosses her arms and looks up at me defiantly. She’s cute when she mimics me, but I try to ignore this.

“Men think they’re owed everything. It’s why they buy you drinks. It’s because they think you’re for sale. Men are–”

“Pigs. Yes, I’ve heard. From you. More than once, my love,” She slipped on her shoes at the door and I was fuming by the time she grabbed her keys, “Walter, you are driving me to and from the club. I can’t make this any easier on you. Aside from letting you join us inside.”

“Which I’m not opposed to!” 

“Uh huh, you told me. You are not ruining girls' night by bringing your big scary self in there.” She reaches up to my face and pulls me down for a chaste kiss, just enough to shut me up, “Now, drive me to the club. And when I come back, you are gonna hold me down and make me take every inch of you in any way you want for however long you want. Is that clear?”

“So now you make the rules, Princess?” 

“When it comes to this specific instance, yes. Because otherwise, you’d keep me locked in a tower for my safety.” 

“Stop giving me ideas, love. You know how my mind works.”

“Right, well let’s go before you start pricing towers.” Her tiny hand grabs mine and starts to lead me out of her apartment.

The drive to the club is mostly quiet. A mixture of her excitement and my apprehension creates a strange atmosphere that only affects me it would seem. She’s been tapping out a rhythm on her thigh the entire ride and she seems keen to be going out. Perhaps she needed this more than I originally thought.

As I pull up across the street from the club, she’s taking out her phone and texting the girls. I just watch her and try and school my face into a neutral expression.

“Walter, stop.”

“Stop what?” I genuinely thought I was doing well.

“I can hear your brain doing somersaults,” She looks over to me and dons a pitying smile, “The girls are coming down the street, see? I’m gonna go and you’re gonna leave and not stay here all night. I will text you when the girls and I are leaving. They took an Uber here, so we might Uber back, or by the look on your face, you’ll be picking me up. Now, tell me you love me and you trust me.”

“I love you and I trust you. I just–”

“Nope. That was all I needed. I love you, Walter. I’ll see you in a few hours, ok?” Before she can reach for the door handle, I lean in to brush my lips against hers. If I linger there for a moment, she doesn’t seem the mind.

“Have fun, Princess. I’ll see you soon.”

She exits my truck and walks a few feet to where Nina and Sophie are standing. They hug and make their way across the street to Club Echo. I stay and watch until she walks inside. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I force myself to drive away.

Kamaria’s POV

As we walk into the club, the blare of Megan Thee Stallion playing bumps around us. Heading to the bar first, we all get a couple of jolly rancher shots to get us started. The mixture of amaretto, melon liquor, grenadine, and Sprite goes down easier than I expected. 

Ordering an amaretto sour, I turn to look around the bar and survey my surroundings. You don’t date a detective without learning a thing or so. I make sure to remember where the bathrooms are, there is the main entrance and also an emergency exit to the left of where the DJ booth sits.

When I turn back around, my drink is in front of me and I pick it up taking a generous sip. When I see the girls have their drinks, I hold mine up and we toast to the night ahead. We decide to finish our drinks at the bar before moving to the dance floor.

We find the perfect spot close to the DJ as Twerkulator by City Girls starts up. The liquor in my veins paired with my rising body heat from dancing had me feeling blissful. So on cloud nine, I didn’t think twice as I felt two hands on my hips. It wasn’t until I picked up on the unmistakable feeling of a clothed erection against my ass that I came to my senses.

As I tried to move out of the grasp of who was holding me, they just held on tighter and pulled me flush against them. I tried to reach for their hands, but they just held my arms behind my back. I attempted to crane my neck to find the girls when a large paw held my jaw in place. 

When a college-aged boy comes to stand in front of me, I notice his pupils are blown wide behind his glasses. A telltale sign of drug use. He’s moving offbeat from the song but no one else seems to notice. Just like no one notices him opening my mouth and putting a small pink tablet between my lips.

Instantly, my brain has to decide. Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn? The numbness of fear washes over me as I concede my fate and I freeze. My body stiffens and my conscious mind retreats to the background as I swallow the tablet.

I can’t hear his voice, but I can see the boy’s lips moving. He’s saying ‘Kiss me’, I think. The arms that were around me suddenly let go and move me forward. His lips are so pink. And he’s got such a handsome smile.

The music is really loud.

The lights are moving so fast.

It’s so hot in here.

He’s looking over my shoulder and nodding. I try to see what he is looking at, but he catches my jaw before I can turn. His skin on mine feels like electricity and I move my hand to his face, my thumb caressing his cheek. He looks so pretty. Does he taste pretty too?

Need to taste him.

He’s leaning in. He’s so soft like he’s shy at kissing.

Not Walter. Walter’s not shy at kissing. 

“Where…Walter?” Can he hear me? He’s looking over my shoulder again, this time he’s shaking his head.

“Where…Nina? Sophie?” Head hurts. Can’t think.

Blackness.

Walter’s POV

The last thing I said to her was ‘I’ll see you soon.’ Those words keep echoing in my brain. I know I couldn’t have done anything differently. My actions didn’t cause what happened. I didn’t hand her over to her captors.

So, why then does it feel like this wasn’t a random incident? 

I’ve traced our steps back as far as I can remember. I’ve interviewed so many people from the club, including the twins who were the last to see her. They’re almost as shell-shocked as I am. 

They never saw the guys that took Kam. The cameras in the club barely picked up anything. The footage from the back of the club shows her being carried out and placed into a van before it drives off. Nothing from inside of the club that’s of any help.

I can’t help but think that I’m missing something. Checking my watch, I see it’s about 3:00 pm. It’s been about forty-one hours since I dropped her off outside of the club. I’ve slept maybe a handful of those hours. I can’t get her smile out of my head. I refuse to go home until I have her with me.

Everyone knows the first forty-eight hours are the most important in an abduction case. There are television shows and documentaries about it. I don’t want to think about the fact that the odds of finding her decrease by 50% after the first two days. But how could I not?

I’ve been here before. I’ve spoken to victims’ families. I’ve seen so many people found, but it doesn’t erase the bodies that are uncovered. We’re not going to find her body, we’re going to find her safe and alive.

I’m all she has. She has no one but me. And I refuse to let her down.

Near the forty-fifth hour, everything changes when Commissioner Harper comes into my office. He’s walked on eggshells around me since this whole thing started. I would have done the same, shoe on the other foot.

“I just got a call about a woman who was admitted to Hennepin County Medical Center. She matches Kamaria’s description. Wanna take a drive?” His words are slow and meant to not stir up hope, it would seem.

I’m up out of my seat so fast, the chair falls over behind me. “I’m driving.”

I’m silent on the drive there. So is Harper, thankfully. I pull into one of the spots designated for police and turn off the truck. With my hand on the door handle, I pause and turn to him. “If it’s not her–”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, just follow me. Let’s go.” I’m grateful for his presence in this situation. I don’t want to think about doing this on my own.

We flash our badges at the reception desk and Harper confirms with the nurse that they have a young woman matching Kam’s details upstairs. After we’re given the location and directions, we make our way through various hallways. Rounding a corner, we find another nurse’s station. As Harper talks with the nurse, I look toward the end of the hall feeling impatient.

The nurse gets up and beckons us to follow her down the hallway. Knocking on the door to a room, the nurse then enters and allows us in after her. I look up and lock eyes with the patient in the bed and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Walter?” Her tiny voice is no more than a whisper as she tries to sit up on the gurney.

“Don’t try to get up, dear,” The nurse standing next to me pushes me toward Kam with a smile, “You can go ahead. We’ll be right outside.” She takes Harper back to the hallway and shuts the door.

When I reach her bedside, I don’t know what to do but look at her. I notice the I.V. in her right hand, the blood pressure cuff on her left arm, the oxygen tube running under her nose, and various bandages decorating her face and hands. I’ve never seen her look so…this.

“I never thought I would see you again. I was so…scared,” She reaches out to me at the last word, and I wrap my arms around her as she sobs. She clutches at my jumper and I let loose the tears that I refused to shed the last two days.

Holding her in my arms again feels like the first time. She feels different, altered from her ordeal. The cruel yet realistic worry runs through my mind and I feel nauseous. I’m afraid to ask about it and just like always, she can read my thoughts.

When I lean back from our embrace, she looks up at me with shame in her eyes. I recognize it as a symptom of sexual assault victims and it breaks my heart.

“I let them take my clothes as evidence. I consented to have a medical forensic exam performed. They’re having me tested for STDs. And hopefully, they can find out what I was drugged with at the club,” She is still clinging to my pullover as if I would ever ask her to let go of me, “We’re both victims of this trauma and we need to be there for each other if we want to heal. But I understand if this is too mu–”

“I’m going to stop you right there. I love you, Kam. This is not too much. I will do anything in my power to help you heal, including doing the work to heal myself,” I caress her cheek and wipe away a stray tear, “But there is something I don’t understand. Why would they let you go?”

“They didn’t let me go exactly,” At my confused expression, she elaborates, “If…Justin…hadn’t been there, I–”

“Justin?”

“He’s the reason I got away. I thought he was one of my abductors, but he might be just another victim.”

“Where’s Justin now?”

“Walter, he’s not who did this to me.”

“But he knows who did, Kam. He could help us find who hurt you, so please let him help us. Where is Justin?”

“Promise me no one will hurt him?” 

“You know I can’t promise that. As an accomplice to kidnapping, he could end up facing the same charges up to and including prison time.”

“It was worth a shot to ask,” Taking a deep breath, she looks past me where Harper and the nurse stand talking outside of the window, “I told him to wait in the lobby, he should still be there. Glasses, messy chestnut hair, he said he was 21 but he looks all of 16 at best. He’s skittish so take it slow if you can.”

I nod, clearly not excited about having to take it easy on this kid. I can’t see him as a “kid” anyway, whether or not he hurt her, he’s an accomplice to kidnapping at the very least. Taking it easy is about to have to have an asterisk in the definition.

“Walter?” She reaches up to smooth out the frown lines on my face. I nod for her to speak, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say, realizing I am unsure of where to plant a kiss. On the lips seems too much post-assault, as did the neck. A kiss on the hand felt like not enough, but my lips need to touch her before I–

“Kiss my forehead, Walter. You know I love a forehead kiss.” 

I really need to learn to quiet my thoughts around her. Damn mind reader…

As I exit the hospital room, I pull Harper to the side and explain what Kamaria has told me. They can have the warrant for his arrest as soon as we make it to the station. When we head back down to the lobby, I make sure the exits are covered so he can’t run. Looking around the room, I spot him in the corner and he looks scared already.

Originally, I thought I would have a uniformed cop arrest him. But there’s no way I’m not getting involved in this. And anyone would be dumb to try and stop me.

I sit in the chair to the right of Justin, Harper sitting to the left. His hands are in his lap, one knee bouncing as he opens his mouth.

“Is Kamaria doing okay? I want her to be okay.” He sniffles, bringing a hand up to chew at his thumbnail.

“You actually sound like you care about her,” Harper speaks evenly, appearing to be empathetic. 

I guess that makes me Bad Cop™.

“I do care about her, I lo–” 

“If you’re about to say you love her, save it for court. Nobody is gonna believe you here, kid. And I honestly doubt a judge will believe you either.” I scoffed. My blood is boiling, this kid has to be fucking with us. I’m about two seconds from throwing him against the nearest wall, setting be damned.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter what you think about me. It matters what she thinks. And she knows that I love her. Just ask her.” Justin pleads, looking between Harper and me.

“Let’s say she knows you love her. Does she love you, Justin?” Harper countered, turning to face the kid.

“She…kissed me.” The kid actually smiles and touches his lips like a fucking teen romance movie character. I can’t take any more of this.

“Mazel Tov! Who gives a shit?” Even Harper is getting agitated, no longer speaking calmly.

“I didn’t have to hurt her to get her to touch me. She would beg me just to–”

“On the list of things that will help you, finishing that sentence is not one of them.” Judging from the height of Harper’s eyebrows and the look of sheer terror on Justin’s face, I got my point across.

“I second that. Look, work with us here. If you can help us find who hurt you, we can work on lowering your sentence,” Harper puts a reassuring hand on Justin’s shoulder, “But that is only if you agree to work with us. Trust me, a kid like you in Gen Pop? They’ll eat ya alive.”

“Can you keep us safe from him?” Us. He said ‘us’.

“When you say ‘us’, you mean…” Harper trails off, letting Justin clear up his answer.

“Keep me and Kamaria safe. If he finds out she’s here and that I brought her? He’ll gut us both. I can’t let her get hurt.”

“She’s not your responsibility. Let us worry about her. You’ve got other things to worry about, like helping us find this nutjob. I don’t suppose you have a name or a location for us?” How dare he think he has some claim to her…

“I only know him as Sir,” He pauses, suddenly looking a bit green in the face, “But I can show you where he kept us. It’s about an hour away, near Twin Lakes Beach. I drove past another hospital to get to this one outside the county. I stole his keys and I just drove. You can’t let him find us.” Justin starts to sob and I feel numb. Had it been under any other circumstances, I would have had some type of feeling. But it’s too close, too personal.

“You can show us on a map where he is, then we’ll get you down to the station and take your statement.” Harper claps a hand on Justin’s knee and nods to a uniformed cop to bring a map over.

“I think it’s better if I don’t go on the search team, for obvious reasons. I’ll be upstairs if I’m needed.” I get up, making it clear I want nothing more to do with this at the present moment. 

Walking toward the elevators, I hear Justin ask what the ‘obvious reasons’ were. As the elevator closes around me, Harper replies, “Don’t worry about it.” Yeah, that’s probably the best move right now. If he knows I’m the boyfriend, he may be less likely to speak.

Finding my way back to Kam’s room, I see that she’s sitting up in bed. She notices me walking by and motions for me to come in. 

“I assume he was still down there. You’ve got the grumpy face.” She says, reaching out for my hand. I take hold of hers and sit in the chair next to the bed.

“One of these days, I will learn how to train my face. It won’t be this week, though.” Chancing a glance at her, I can’t help but think about what Justin said. 

‘I didn’t have to hurt her to get her to touch me…’

“I know you have questions. And I swear I will answer all of them. Just, please not tonight? I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Sizable tears roll down her face and my heart breaks.

I shake my head. Partly out of fear of my voice cracking, and partly because I don’t want any answers. I’ve never been in this situation before, but it feels a lot like guilt. Like it was my fault this happened. I know it isn’t. But why does it hurt so much?

I’m pulled out of my interior monologue by my phone ringing. I clear my throat and answer it. I hear the three words spoken clear as day, but I still ask the officer to repeat herself. I acknowledge and end the call. 

Why am I so awestruck by this news? This is good, right?

Oh.

“Walter, what is it? You’re freaking me out a little.” Her voice sounds worried, but also far away. Like, maybe she feels what I feel.

“They found him. He’s been taken into custody. We got him.” I try to hide that I wish they had killed him, so she didn’t have to see her rapist again.

“That’s…good,” She is attempting to convince both of us that this isn’t worse than the alternative, “He can go to prison…and I’ll probably…have to…testify.” Her heart monitor starts to make noise, her chest rising and falling quickly.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was having a panic attack. Two nurses come in to check the monitor, I step back to let them work but Kam’s hand reaches out for mine. When she’s calmed down, the nurses take their leave and we’re alone again.

“We don’t have to think about that tonight. The only thing that matters is that we’re together, we’re safe, we love each other, and neither of us is going anywhere,” I kiss her hand and link our fingers, “Repeat it back to me.”

“We’re together, we’re safe, we love each other, and neither of us is going anywhere.” When her voice breaks, so does my resolve. I need to hold her again. I need to feel that she’s safe.

I wrap my arms around her, her bawling and my silent tears keeping us locked in a state of sadness. Even if we cry, it feels better with her in my arms knowing she is safe. 

If I have to cry with her every night for the next fifty years, I’ll do it with no questions asked. That’s a promise.

Chapter 10

A/N: The songs that I listened to nonstop while writing this chapter were All Night by Chance the Rapper and Life on Mars originally by David Bowie. I linked to the version by Trey Songz because I really love that interpretation. Ok, yes, maybe I watched Sebastian Stan’s episode of Law & Order and had a crush on his character and included him in this story. I needed an accomplice and Justin was so adorable and pliable.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@enchantedbytomandhenry @astheskycries 

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Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x black!plus size female #walter marshall x black!plus size female oc #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x black!ofc #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #night hunter #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #bright like the moon #tw sex assault #tw noncon

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

JAKE TIME! JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE! 

My Friend JAKE! 

This is where we take a hard turn into comics and head cannon. 

The show did not give us enough Jake. I get why they did it. It was a big reveal easter egg end credits thing that Marvel loves to do. They knew the comic fans would be looking for him in every reflection, facial expression, or action. They gave us just enough in the actual show to keep us screaming and then let it pay off in the end. But man it was not enough. Not enough to even try to conjecture about. But here we go! 

I love Comic book Jake. He is the guy in the city that every street kid know. The guy that will hand you a soda pop on a hot day and call you “Kid” no matter how old you are. He’d pat you on the shoulder and ask how your Ma and Pa were doing while telling you to keep your nose clean. He’s Uncle Jake. He keeps odd hours, drives the cab, gives out free rides to anyone with a soft smile or tear in their eye. No one knows how he keeps himself in business cause he spends more on gas than he makes in fare. 

He gets into arguments with Steven because Steven thinks he’s better than everyone else. Steven runs with high society and makes deals with unsavory rich men. Jake is a friend to the homeless, the people that work day and night and still can’t rub two dimes together. He gets his info from people that have seen or run into the bad things. Jake does not rub elbows with them. 

Jake gets into fights with Marc because Marc knows the bad people. Marc ran a life of pain and violence with poor choices. Marc hates himself so much that he would very much give his life to Jake. Jake is Marc’s ideal self. 

Jake can fight. He can get himself out of situations. He can be Moon Knight. He can argue with Khonshu if needed, and he knows how to pull his punches when needed. 

I’m not sure where the comics started to turn on this. They started to make Jake the violent one at some point. Perhaps Bemis? Jake became the one that keeps things from Marc and is the unhinged violent one. A turn from a time when Marc was the unpredictable one. I’m not sure why they decided this was something that needed to happen. I hope they come back from that. 

While yes, I can see Jake knowing how to be the brutal force that the other two lack, it’s more of a controlled brutal force. Something that can be more terrifying to fight. Steven is controlled and graceful. Marc is a wild card that throws himself in with no concept of self preservation. Jake would be the kind to go in ready to punch someone until his knuckles bleed. A wrecking ball of brute force backed by a will to win. Unstoppable and terrifying if he sets his gaze on you. 

Now Show Jake! What we’ve seen is that he protects the body. Which translates to He protects Marc when his dumb ass gets them into an unwinnable situation. Probably more times than Jake wants to talk about. 

He’s quiet. He’s careful. He’s patient. He watches. He has to watch because he has to be there. The one time he wasn’t there was when Marc got shot at the dig site and tried to take his own life. Would Jake have let him? He cut it pretty close. Perhaps Marc was so determined that no matter how much Jake tried, he could not make Marc stop. Perhaps he agreed with Marc’s choice. It is hard to say. 

We catch a real glimpse of Jake when Marc gets hit on the back of the head and knocked out. Would the Arab gang have just run off at this point or would they have tried to kill him? They’ve already tried to leave once before and Marc came right back to hunt them down. They probably took Marc to the cliff with the intent to kill him or hand him over to Harrow and that is when Jake decided he had had enough. 

Jake is not interested in getting the information. Or he has seen that they don’t have what Marc is looking for. Either way, there was a fight and Jake was the clear winner. What’s interesting is that he spared the younger one. The one Marc wouldn’t even punch properly. He killed the immediate threat, injured the kid, then killed the other guy. This is what Marc wanted, right? They had no information and they kept being a problem. He took care of it. 

In fact, he gave the body back to Marc so quickly once the problem was handled that he was still holding the knife. 

I took this front to be both a “And my work here is done” vibe as well as a “Stop fucking around” vibe. He’s been watching Steven and Marc argue over the body since London and he is so annoyed by their lack of ability to get anything done. Their fighting is not only getting in the way and slowing things down, but now it’s putting them in danger. It was almost like Jake’s way of giving them a ‘wake up call’. Put them back on track or give them something else to focus on. 

In the tomb I wonder what Jake thought about the fact that Marc was not only careless and got shot, but this time actually died. 

Marc is so focused on Steven and their own problems that he does not see Jake. He is in such denial about how much trauma he has undergone that he can’t even see Jake. I wonder how long Jake has been there. How long he has been watching and waiting for Marc to figure it out. Does he want to be noticed? 

I think he does. His sarcophagus is standing. His door is part way open and he is pounding so violently that you are made to believe that something unpleasant is in there. 

Jake is angry. He is angry that Marc got shot. That he couldn’t help him out of that one. That they died. Now he is locked up and doesn’t know what is going on. Marc is so blind to Jake that even when he sees the sarcophagus, he ignores it. Steven even stops and points to it, looking to Marc for answers, but Marc isn’t ready. He keeps going so Steven keeps going. 

I wonder if Jake met with ‘Dr. Harrow’. Real Harrow was not aware of Jake. He only knows Marc and Steven. There is no record of Jake that anyone can find. Marc is also very confused by the bloody nose and bandage. ‘Imaginary fights’ that keep happening, making them have to drug Marc. It could be Jake. Jake waking up in the hospital and trying to fight his way out. We already know how efficient he is. How he doesn’t mess around. I don’t think we ever saw Jake in the office with Harrow. I think it was all Marc with the one Steven encounter, but I think Jake was probably in the waiting room once or twice before going back to the sarcophagus. It was probably messy. 

There are so many locked rooms in the Duat. So many memories that neither Marc or Steven have access to. If Jake had been let out, they probably could have seen more. Not just because they are Jake’s memories, but because Marc would have been able to face more of his tramas. Traumas that are directly related to the creation and need for Jake. Memories of his time in the military, memories of his time with the mercenaries. Memories of his time at home with his abusive mother and clueless father. More teenage year memories perhaps. 

I think Jake was probably created when Marc was a teenager. A time that would have probably been emotionally brutal for him in so many ways. A time when culturally he would be becoming a man. In his Hispanic heritage as well as his Jewish heritage he would be coming into his own and he would have needed more help than Steven could give him. Marc would have started lashing out, getting into fights, rejecting his cultures. 

Steven holds on to Marc’s Jewish side. Jake holds on to Marc’s Hispanic side. A man expected to embrace his family on both sides. A man leading the community and becoming a leader. He would have needed an emotional barrier in Steven. He would have also needed a trauma barrier in Jake. 

While Marc holds the trauma, I think Jake might hold his own trauma. He strikes me as a man that is private. Keeps to himself and has a lot going on in his head. He’s been told to keep quiet one too many times so now he only speaks when he feels he has something important to say. He keeps focus and just wants to get things done efficiently. He sees a task and gets it done. He does not understand all the little side details. Why delay something when you can just go do it? Why be distracted by all the ‘if and or’? There is a job so do it. Side things might frustrate him. 

Perhaps this is where Jake displays his Autistic characteristics. If someone gives him a plan, he doesn’t want to hear the side details. They are distractions. They make things complicated. Just tell him his part and what he has to do. He might be more prone to melt downs. He doesn’t like having to take more steps than needed. He has a routine and he wants to keep it. 

Maybe you see this in his one and only actual scene. He goes in to collect Harrow. Someone tries to stop him and he just repeatedly tells the woman to relax. To keep calm. He doesn’t want to have to deal with her. He doesn’t want to talk to her. He sings himself a song that might be his comfort song. Something that helps him focus. 

He is angry at Harrow. A man that killed them and put them in danger. A man that tried to harm the system and brought Marc a great deal of pain. He takes him out, throws him in the car, and now he has a wheel chair that is clearly in his way. He isn’t going to just move it aside or return it. Those things are difficult to steal. So he kicks it away. 

He is so slow and methodical in his reveal. He looks at Harrow in the mirror. A mirror that has been used to show Marc and Steven before. But there is no one else there. There is only Jake. Jake is so careful that he has full control. He turns around and his face is so still. He has hate for Harrow but he is happy to finally do his job and get rid of this problem. Harrow will never threaten the system again. 

Why is Jake still with Khonshu even though Marc and Steven rejected him? Because Khonshu has a way with words and knows what words to use. Protect the travelers of the night. Jake is there to protect. He wants to protect. He sees a job that needs to be done. If Marc could just understand, maybe he’d want to do too. Jake is being manipulated, but if Steven could get the right words in, I think Jake would have his own way to do things. 

Even in the final black out scene, Just before Marc blacks out, you see his face twist into one of frustration and anger. Jake might currently hold Marc’s rage. His rage at being mistreated. His rage at a life denied. His rage at being helpless. Another reason why he would follow Khonshu. He can hold the power and prevent others from experiencing such helplessness. You better believe Jake will protect those that need it. 

This is where it goes back into comic land and head cannon. I think that if Jake could communicate with Marc and Steven, he could. He’d probably be hesitant at first. He’s used to his own space. He’s private and maybe doesn’t understand their reluctance. His own trauma is very unique to him. It isn’t something maybe Marc can understand yet. I think Steven would be the link between them. Once they could talk and work out the misplaced rage and denial, I think Jake would be friendly. He’d be the goofy Tio (uncle). He’d have a smile that was full of mischief and he’d encourage the kids to get into fun trouble. 

He’d be the one that told you to go sneak the ice cream as long as he got a little bit himself. The one to hand you a ten dollar bill when your mom isn’t looking and tell you to spend it foolishly. 

I think he’d work with his hands. He wants to see how things work. He wants to see the insides of machines and gears. He’d stare longingly at old clunker cars and dream of motorcycles. He’d put the bike chains back on for the neighborhood kids and help them check their tire pressure. 

He’d buy a hot rod magazine and read the articles without even noticing the sexy pictures. I think Jake would take a while to open up verbally. He’s so tight lipped. Maybe he’s spent a good part of his life being told to keep quiet and now when he says his word it’s a delight to hear. He’d nod and smile approvingly. If he called you ‘mijo’ you knew you had the ultimate approval. 

He and Marc would not get along at first. I think it would take Steven a lot of work to get them to see eye to eye, but once they did it would be worth it. If watching Marc and Steven fight together was that fluid and beautiful, I think if all three of them could communicate and understand one another… This would be the Moon Knight of the comics. The Moon Knight that if you see coming for you, you run. Brute force, chaotic energy, iron will, calculating moves… 

If only… 

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight meta #Jake Lockley #We need more Jake #Like I totally didn't just go to funko pop and custome make a Jake with a mustache while giggling to myself about him finally getting it #Give this man a mustache #give us more Jake #Going crazy over here

[ryutarotakedown]

magnus archives! for the ask game

[ask game link] YAYYYYYYYYY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK this got horrifically long so under the cut!

Favorite character: i’d love to say basira but it’s probably melanie. or martin. oh little moth…

Least Favorite character: uhhhh i love all the characters as *characters* but i love to hate elias of course. what a fucking creep they did such a wonderful job with him. 106 and 117 live in my brain constantly & forever

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): FIVE? THERE AREN’T ENOUGH IN HERE FOR FIVE but it’d be what the girlfriends, jonmartin, daisira, basira/melanie, and. hm. hmmm. gertrudeagnes

— oh crap wait i keep forgetting platonic relationships are ships too, okay okay add jon & basira and jon & melanie and jon & georgie in there. not in any particular order but still

Character I find most attractive: im not even attracted to women but. daisy. i didn’t understand the fan reaction until i listened to her voice for the first time (i consumed this podcast almost entirely through transcripts) and went Oh I Get It Now

Character I would marry: georgie easily

Character I would be best friends with: jon or melanie because i love befriending haters you are all so fun

A random thought: i miss them so much. i kept expecting the transcripts to switch to “archive” for jon at some point but they never did which is probably for the best for accessibility reasons but can you imagine. i miss them so much. basira is funnier than people give her credit for. georgie is less funny than people give her credit for and i appreciate her so much for it (don’t be a Stranger!). i miss them so much

An unpopular opinion: hey did you know basira hussain is in the third most episodes total and actually has the second most scenes with jon (she had The Most, period, before martin dethroned her in s5)? did you know? anyway she should be in more stuff and i love her deeply. i also don’t think she actually had double standards for jon versus daisy per se, i think her problem was thinking that guilty people deserve punishment and therefore that daisy’s victims (criminals) were fine while jon’s victims (random people off the street) were not

— this is also why she stops daisy from killing jon in 091, because she’d met him before, he was a human being who cracked jokes, he *couldn’t* be guilty; rather than because killing people is bad

— i also think she knew deep down she was wrong for this considering how she says in the unknowing: i don’t want to hurt you. i don’t want to hurt anyone. and then in s5: of course i care! …that’s the problem

— she had to force down her compassion in order to function well as a police officer and forced herself to believe that it was the right thing to arrest people who did bad things

— reader she was incorrect

— have i mentioned i love her

My canon OTP: jonmartin and what the girlfriends

Non-canon OTP: you cannot tell me basira and melanie didn’t have something going on while jon was in his coma you simply can’t

— melanie was strong and violent and necessary and basira needed someone strong to rely on after daisy even though she could see how miserable melanie was. basira stuffed down all her emotions and became a stone figure and melanie feeling herself being overtaken by rage both aspired to that and hated her for it. they are anchors for each other but false because their usual anchors (daisy, georgie) aren’t here or wouldn’t get it. do you understand.

Most badass character: the admiral

Pairing I am not a fan of: sorry to jon.elias fans i do understand that exploring the Power Dynamics could be fun but i genuinely cannot see any romance in there whatsoever. can’t jon just hate a man in peace

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): hmmmmmmm. not anyone in particular? i think basira’s s5 arc was kind of rushed but i’m not super mad about it. also obviously the racist stereotypes in there (the haans. i mean the haans) but in terms of main cast i can’t think of anyone

Favourite friendship: tim & sasha because i haven’t mentioned them anywhere in this ask and that is a travesty. they’re fun i hope they are kayaking happily together somewhere

#THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU I HAVENT TALKED ABOUT THEM ON HERE IN FOREVER #p: the magnus archives #mail #thehallowoods #jules.txt #caps

[brinconvenient]

FOR THE LAST TIME! MARTIN SCORSESE DID NOT DIRECT GONCHAROV!

I wrote all of this on a reblog of a great post  by @mortalityplays that explains how Twitter’s broken copyright protection system is finally letting the world appreciate the up-til-recently lost film “Goncharov,” but it was a reblog, so I don’t think enough people are seeing this. And honestly, it’s just like tumblr to go hog wild on a media property without knowing even a scintilla of the actual history of it. 

I know that Martin Scorsese is getting a lot of love for tumblr’s favorite new rediscovered film, but (and I can't believe I have to fucking go all filmbro on this, but I fell down a hyper-fixation rabbit hole on this a while back) what's pissing me off about all of this, is that everyone, including op, keeps giving Martin Scorsese credit as the director, when the title card clearly shows "Martin Scorsese Presents" (I think it's the snippet in the 3rd tweet, maybe the 4th) which means that Martin Scorsese was the DISTRIBUTOR.

Like. Ok, so Scorsese graduates film school roughly the same time as George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola, Brian DePalma, and the rest of the Movie Brats, coming up with Steven Spielberg etc, launching the American auteur era of film, but smack in the middle of research for Mean Streets, Scorsese encounters this film by the mononymic Italian director, Matteo (JWHJ0715 was his member id number in Italy's version of the Director's Guild of America - pretty sure they stopped requiring directors include their guild number in the credits after Fellini refused for like 20 years and they just gave up trying to fine him. This is also what inspired Lucas to cow the DGA into submission on the credits at the end thing for Star Wars).

And Scorsese is just fucking blown away. Like, it's everything he's wanted to do since he went into film school. The symbolism, the interpersonal intrigue, the conflicting loyalties between love, honor and duty, the family you are born into vs. the mafia family that finds, accepts and trains you, the constant ethical tension between doing what's right for your morality and what's right for YOUR family vs. what's right For the Family.

I mean. Jesus, look at Goodfellas if you want to see how Scorsese tries to touch on SOME OF THAT when he finally feels like he knows enough to even attempt to approach Matteo's mastery.

Of course, that's not even touching on the Cold War intrigue about the Russian mob operating outside of Soviet Russia and the whole KGB subplot aspect of it all.

Anyway, so back to 1972. Scorsese is just absolutely blown away. The Godfather has just come out and America is mafia mad! Scorsese has had some modest hits. He thinks that Mean Streets is gonna be his big break, and he sees this movie. Not only does he dump his original lead actor to cast Robert Deniro because of it, he decides that he's gonna use the connections he's been making to get this film in front of American movie goers, to help finance the films he wants to make.

So he just, he just fuckin COLD CALLS Dominico Procacci and says "I know people and I can get this movie seen over here" and Procacci takes the meeting... Like, the balls on Martin!

But Procacci doesn't tell him that the real Russian mafia is already sniffing around. Anyway, Scorsese gets the distribution rights for the US and starts getting prints made and ready to distribute to prop up the mob-movie-fever so he can ride it when Mean Streets hits later in the year.

Like, the film was already in cans and at the theater, when the Russian mob knocks on Marty's door and have a very convincing conversation with him.

Next thing you know, all of the prints are back at the warehouse where, reportedly, the fucking Russian mob counts each and every single one. Then they toss the fucking master on the pile (I don't know where they got that, does anyone have that story??) and set it all alight, while Marty watches his future go up in flames.

But then they just fucking walk away and Martin Scorsese, with britches full, goes back to his car and doesn't even see the bag of cash in the backseat until the next day. Business concluded.

Gotta give Old Ivan credit. Just like Matteo depicted - they keep their fucking word. Martin Scorsese decided to stick to the Italian and Irish mobs in his movies from then on, and leave the god damned Ruskies alone.

Of course, none of them knew about the test prints back at the warehouse of the company that was hired to make the copies for American distribution. I could be wrong, but isn't the leading theory about the provenance of the Twitter copy that someone probably found one of those test prints in some corporate asset auction or something?

Anyway, sorry for the ramble. I just hate seeing Matteo getting left out of the fucking conversation, especially now that arguably his greatest work is finally getting attention.

Scorsese has been basically fanfic AU-ing "Goncharov" his whole fucking career and now he's gonna get actually credit for the original? Not on my fucking watch, thank you.

#goncharov #martin scorsese #matteo #matteo jwhj 0715 #robert deniro #unreality #russian mob #mafia #naples #Dominico Procacci #long post #goncharov meme

[nagasakidivision]

Drama Track: Double Effect 2.2

>disappears for 4 months >drops another cliffhanger >refuses to elaborate

Seriously though, this should be the last long-term hiatus (please God I don't need anymore excitement in my life.) To make a long story short my employment, financial, academic, and home life related matters are way more stable now and I can hopefully get back to writing things that are not school related. I don't want to make a full post on why I've disappeared and I hate infodumping about life stuff anyways, so we'll just leave it at that.

A-NY-WAYS. Let's pick up where we left off! Link to the first part if you need it because it's been a hot minute. We're looking at.........probably two more parts after this, which I'll shoot for putting up within the next few days but I'll post something frivolous and short and silly and not at all ominous tomorrow to fill in the gap. Absolutely no reason to be concerned about the boys or what's going on in their lives or pasts. Trust me. :)

(but seriously it will be a low-effort fluff post so don't get too excited lol)

(Footsteps as Shirou walks down an alley.)

[Damien]: Yo. Done with the final casing. Or, uh, Lucia is. Heh. You get the footage I sent?

[Shirou]: I did.

[Damien]: Still think it’s doable? They’ve stepped up security.

[Shirou]: I’ve done far worse than this.

[Damien]: Yeah, yeah. I don’t see why you need to warn them. You’re making things way harder on yourself.

[Shirou]: What’s the point of doing this if they don’t know what they’ve done wrong?

[Damien]: Sure, but you could do it after the fact.

[Shirou]: Anyone could take credit for it then. I have copycats.

[Damien]: (sighs) …You know what? Sure. Can’t argue with that logic. Just try to not make a habit of this for every job we work. Street toughs are one thing, going against someone with real money is another. Like, you know, Solaris.

[Shirou]: Fortunately, we aren’t dealing with Solaris. I’ve run dozens of jobs just like this against people smarter than Tomabechi. Have a little faith in me.

[Damien]: Got plenty of that or I wouldn’t be here. So. Ready to go?

[Shirou]: As long as you’ve got my back.

[Damien]: Always. Gimme a sec to get to my post. C’mon, Lucia.

[Haruto]: …Okay, this can’t possibly be the right side of town.

(He sighs and slumps against a wall.)

[Haruto]: I was sure I saw him head this way. How can he walk that fast that quietly?

[Passerby…? 1]: This is a waste of time. Nothing’s happening.

[Haruto, thinking]: Whoa. Those guys look rough. Better get out of the way.

[Passerby…? 2]: Yeah, I know. Dunno why he’s so wound up. It could just be a fake. Someone trying to rile us up, y’know?

[Passerby…? 1]: C’mon. He’s gotta just be an urban legend. There’s no way someone’s that good of a thief.

[Passerby…? 2]: No. Trust me. This is the real deal. The flowers, the note, the handwriting…it’s Gabriel.

[Haruto]: ….Hold on a second. That name…

----------------------------------------------

[Haruto]: I got it! What about Metaxu? Like, the Platonic concept—I mean, I’m not a Platonist but Weil kind of took it and ran with it in a really interesting way. It’s the perfect MC name, right? It’s all got to do with communication.

[Damien]: Hey, so, you know that division from Ikebukuro? The one that’s made up entirely of teenagers?

[Haruto]: …Yeah?

[Damien]: Well, they’re going to shove you in a locker because you’re a nerd. Pick a different name.

(Haruto crumples up a paper and flings it at Damien.)

[Haruto]: Oh, you’re one to talk, Reprobus!

[Damien]: Hey! That’s different, he’s cool. He got torture-murdered and never broke throughout it. And he still healed the guy who killed him.

[Shirou]: According to one account of many. I mean, we can’t even be certain that Reprobus was even Saint Christopher’s prebaptismal name.

[Damien]: It’s a saint gospel, most of it is exaggeration at best. Might as well pick the most badass one.

[Shirou]: Well, fair enough. I’d imagine that’s exactly what the writers were thinking.

[Haruto]: That still puts me back at square one. I’m out of ideas. I guess I could just use my own name like that one guy from Shinjuku but that’s boring.

[Shirou]: What about Phoenix? It still keeps up the…religion-related themeing we have. Phoenixes are used frequently in hagiography.

[Haruto]: Theme? I see how Damien’s does that, but what does Kingslayer have to do with religion?

[Shirou]: Ah. It’s after the archangel Gabriel. He was supposed to be the angel who presided over the death of kings.

------------------------------------------------

[Haruto]: …You are fucking kidding me.

------------------------------------------------

(The wind kicks up. Shirou’s cape rustles.)

[Damien]: Alright. Nest’s all set up. Shepherd, in position.

[Shirou]: Gabriel, in position.

[Damien]: Curtains are up. Showtime.

(Shirou lets out a long exhale. There’s a soft scraping of his boots against concrete, far gentler than it should be. A whoosh of air as he leaps off his perch from rooftop to rooftop. After a few moments, he stops.)

[Shirou]: Ready to breach. How’s it look in there?

[Damien]: Absolutely infested. Your best bet’s through that window on the third floor. Goes into a supply room nobody’s using.

[Shirou]: I’ll see what I can do.

-------------------------------------------------

[Haruto]: It can’t be Shirou they’re after. Right? I’ll just…

(He taps out a phone number. It goes to the dial tone, and rings. Once, twice, then seven times before…)

[Phone]: It’s Sonozaki. Apologies, but you seem to have missed me. Please leave a message after the tone.

[Haruto]: Fucking hell…

(He shoves the phone in his pocket, rather aggressively. Footsteps as he paces in a circle.)

[Haruto]: I shouldn’t take the risk it's someone else. Right? Just in case. I mean, I do nothing and if it is him, he gets killed. I do something, and…

(A pause.)

[Haruto]: What even is something in this case?

[Haruto]: God. Okay. Do or die, right? I just have to find him first.

(He hums in thought.)

[Haruto]: …Huh. They say your last instinct is to look up for something, right? Okay, here goes…

(It takes a few jumps for him before he finally hits the first bar of the fire escape ladder. With a wheeze of effort, he pulls himself up, his boots hitting the metal rungs.)

[Haruto]: Alright. Now…

(He pauses, followed by a small quizzical noise.)

[Haruto]: Don’t tell me someone else had the same idea. Wait, is that…?

(Rapid footsteps as Haruto closes the gap between him and the unknown figure)

[Haruto]: Hey!

[Damien]: Jesus Christ—what the hell are you doing here?!

[Haruto]: What am I doing here? What are you doing here!? And what’s with the dog mask?

[Damien]: Keep your voice down! Does it look like I’m doing something where I want to be recognized? (He takes in a long breath to steady himself.) Okay. So I’m guessing that Shirou never explained anything to you.

[Haruto]: Apparently not.

[Damien]: Cool. Great. Short version is, there’s some documents in there. Stuff from the capital. He’s getting it, I’m spotting for him.

[Haruto]: …Thanks? That was very forthright of you.

[Damien]: Well, not much point in lying now. It’s a tossup whether or not he’s getting out alive.

(The personal comms Damien is using crackle to life.)

[Shirou]: …Shepherd? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?

[Damien]: ....Fuck me, I left the comms hot—

(He lets out a sigh of frustration, causing a static pop in the comms.)

[Damien]: I mean, obviously Haruto.

[Haruto]: Wait, is that Shirou? Tell him if he does get out of this alive I’m going to kill him. Metaphorically.

[Damien]: …He says hi.

[Shirou]: Don’t tell me he—how much does he know?

[Damien]: I think that’s the least of your worries right now, dude.

[Shirou]: You didn’t invite him, did you? I told you I would be able to explain this on my own.

[Haruto]: So those guys are trying to kill him? Goddamnit, I knew it. What the hell did you get him into?

[Damien]: Would you all just—I can’t talk to three people at once, Christ. Gabriel, hold tight, I’m going to get you an exit strategy. Lucia, away to me. Haruto, firstly, this isn't my fault, it was his idea, secondly, how the hell did you figure out what we were doing?

[Haruto]: Shirou was acting weird and left the hotel, I ran after him, there were some sketchy guys talking about Gabriel, it took me like half a second to figure out that was Shirou.

(A moment of quiet as Damien thinks this through.)

[Damien]: Yeah, okay, good footwork. Probably for the best at this point. (Pause.) Where were those guys you were talking about?

[Haruto]: I don’t know, over…that way, I guess?

(A rustle of fabric as Damien shifts towards the indicated direction.)

[Damien]: Shit. That…was our exit. (A too-long pause before he activates the comms again.) Gabriel, we’ve got…complications.

[Shirou]: I’m pinned, aren’t I?

(Damien swears under his breath. When he speaks, it's uncharacteristically tense and anxious.)

[Damien]: Please don’t do anything stupid, just give me a second to think. I’ll work it out.

[Haruto, internally]: I...don't know what I'm doing. But Shirou isn't the kind of person to save himself. So...

[Haruto]: Hold on. I’ve got an idea.

(He digs into his bag and pulls out a flask. The top unscrews with a slight squeak as the cork pops. He takes a long draw of it.)

[Damien]: (The flattest possible affect you can imagine for him.) Interesting start.

[Haruto]: Look, I’m gonna have to sell this. Tell Shirou to stick to the plan and take that route out. I’m going to distract the guys trying to cut him off.

(He exhales, jumping up and down a few times to roll his shoulders.)

[Haruto]: Okay. Do or die...

(TO BE CONTINUED....)

#nagasaki division #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #drama track #haruto hirabayashi #shirou sonozaki #damien #fan division

[mumms-the-word]

Reunited, Part 1

Day 14 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

I've been wanting to write the scene for a while. There's so much more I could have put into this, but I was trying to avoid it getting too long. Dani cares deeply about her family and her friends, but she's also not one to stay pinned down for long. Reuniting with her mother is both kind of a common occurrence because she leaves and comes back to often on her travels with her fellow bards (aptly called the Rovers), and a special occasion in this instance because, well...her adventures through the game have certainly been a lot more exciting, and a lot more dangerous, than traveling through the districts of the Outer City every few weeks.

Today’s pic is how I picture Dani’s mom (if I had to make her in the game)

Part 2 will be part of Day 15's prompt!

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

---

14. Family reunion (found family or otherwise)

---

“Are you all sure you want to meet my mum?” Dani asked as she lead the way down Outer City streets, headed for the Stonyeyes district. She had suggested it offhand when they had made it through Wyrm’s Crossing, saying that her mother’s house was on the way to Basilisk Gate, the gate that separated the Outer and Lower City. Some of her companions had responded with enthusiasm, saying that she should absolutely go and see her mum, and that they even wanted to come with her.

“You don’t all have to come with me,” she added. “My mum’s house isn’t exactly large. It would be a tight fit with ten people inside.”

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want us with you when you see your mum, Dan?” Karlach asked. She was carrying a big basket of food, items that Dani has bought on her way over, hoping to supply her mother with food enough to last several days, just to help out. “You can tell us to bugger off if you want.”

“No! No, it’s just…” She trailed off, glancing at Gale. He too carried a basket of food, but smaller, with little jars of food and containers of spices. The plan, when Dani first thought it up, was that they would all gather at her mum’s place for dinner. Which Gale would cook, of course, because there was no better cook between the ten of them.

Gale gave her a little smile. Despite that he was about to meet her mother—gods, her lover meeting her mother—he didn’t look remotely nervous. If anything, there seemed to be a slight bounce in his step, like he was excited. He almost looked like an eager puppy on his way to the park for a playdate. 

Of all the things that did vaguely concern her about walking up to her mum’s house with eight companions in tow, Gale was not one of them. In fact, Gale was at the top of the list of things and people she wanted to show off to her mum. Imagine. Her, a poor Outer City girl, having landed a posh, smart wizard as her lover!

Dani chewed her lip a moment and then shook her head. “It’s nothing. I do want you all to meet her. I just don’t want anyone to think it’s a waste of time.”

Her mother wasn’t exactly nobility. She was a seamstress and laundress. She mended clothes for a living and occasionally made dresses. And she was…well…

“I think it would be an honor to meet your mother,” Wyll said. 

“And we don’t have to stay the whole evening,” Shadowheart offered. “It isn’t as though we’re planning on spending the night, are we?”

“Hells, no,” Dani said. “There definitely isn’t enough room for that.” 

She glanced over at Lae’zel, who seemed as disinterested as ever (she looked disinterested about most things, to her credit), and Astarion, who wasn’t even paying attention, his eyes roving the streets hungrily. Though not, she realized, hungry for blood, but instead like…he’d never seen the streets before. No, she realized a beat late. Like he’d never seen them in sunlight before.

Behind them, Halsin and Jahiera were chatting amiably among themselves, content to follow wherever the rest of the group led. She supposed not all of them had to be there when she reunited with her mother after months of adventure, but at the same time, she wanted her mother to meet the people she considered just as much her family as the Rovers.

Right. That settled it then.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll want to beat the evening rush when everyone goes home at the end of the day.”

She lead the way, taking the turns almost by habit, she knew them so well. Despite the armies of the Absolute bearing down on Baldur’s Gate and the threat of the elder brain sleeping somewhere beneath the city, nothing had really changed in the Outer City. Every home and business looked as ramshackle and well-worn as usual, the roads still had all the usual holes where cobblestones were missing, and there was still the same muck on the streets. Even the smells themselves were familiar, if pungent.

Home, she thought wistfully. In all its ripe, worn down, charming glory.

She reached the small house that sat squished between two other tenements, thin alleys on either side and what could possibly be called small shared yard in the back. She took a deep breath before knocking on the door and trying her best to ignore the others, whether they were looking judgmentally at her childhood home or not. She didn’t want to know what they thought.

Silence. 

She frowned a moment before turning back to her companions. “Wait here. I’ll go inside.” She paused for a moment before looking at Gale. “You can come with me, if you want.”

He looked a little surprised but nodded, handing off his basket to Wyll. Dani turned back to the door and opened it, stepping inside.

Gods, nothing had changed, had it? The first room of the house looked exactly as she’d left it months and months ago, when she’d last visited with the Rovers. The same old cookstove, the same patchy armchair by the fireplace, the same rickety shelves that held all their dishes, cookware, books, and knickknacks, the same table in one corner that was everything they ever needed it to be. Dining room table, sewing table, mending table, storage table. Right now it seemed to be holding some mending, a few clothes folded neatly at one corner, the rest in a pile next to her mother’s sewing box.

“Mum?” she asked. She walked a little farther in, letting Gale follow after her and shut the door behind them. She peered through the curtain that led to her mother’s room, little more than a bed against a wall and a chest that held her clothes, but that room was as empty as the first. The only other room in the house was the upstairs loft, where Dani had slept for a while, but she knew her mother wouldn’t be up there. She’d never make it up the ladder.

“Perhaps we should return at another time?” Gale offered gently, smoothing a comforting hand against her back. Ever since leaving Moonrise, he’d been touchier than usual. Not that it was a bad thing. If anything, Dani loved it.  

She shook her head. “No. She almost never leaves the house. We should—“

She cut herself off as she heard the latch on the back door lifting. She turned just as the door swung open and her mother stepped inside, a bundle of clothing tucked under one arm and her cane in her other hand. She stopped short at the sight of Dani and Gale, dropping the bundle of clothing with a gasp, her hand flying to her chest. 

“Who—“

“Mum!” Seeing her all of sudden, Dani felt all the longing and heartache—all the months she had missed her mum, all the times she’d wished she could see her again and ask her questions and have her stroke her hair—felt all of it come flooding back at once. She crossed the room in only a few steps, grabbing her mother up in a hug and holding on tightly, burying her face in her shoulder. 

“Mum, I’m—I’m home,” she said, tears choking her words. Gods, how she’d missed this scent. Her mother’s scent, lye and lavender, the scent of a washerwoman, the scent that was Maeva Zavrai, her mother. She used to hate lye, so much. Now she couldn’t breathe deep enough that stupid, acrid scent.

“By the gods,” her mother whispered. “I—where—Meridan?”

She felt her mother’s arms move weakly, slowly, her entire body stiff with shock, until at last she relaxed and gathered Dani close in an embrace. Dani distantly heard the sound of her mother’s cane hitting the floorboards. They both ignored it, holding onto one another tightly.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” her mother gasped. Dani felt the sobs shudder in her mother’s thin frame as her mother attempted to suppress them, felt her mother’s hands petting her hair, as if confirming by touch that she was actually real. “Oh, thank the gods. Thank the gods.”

They were both useless with tears, Maeva more so than Dani, who kept wiping her cheeks on her mother’s shoulder. After a moment, Dani couldn’t help but laugh at her good fortune, to find her mother again among all this chaos, and laugh at the idea that after months of fighting everything from goblins to a literal god of death, she felt like a little girl again once she was in her mothers arms, crying and clutching her apron strings.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, giving her mother another tight squeeze, though they hadn’t once let go of each other. “So much. So, so much.”

“Oh, sweet girl, I’ve missed you too.” Maeva struggled to pull away from Dani’s embrace, using Dani’s arms as support as she gazed worriedly into Dani’s face. She caressed Dani’s cheek, wiping away a few stray tears, though her own cheeks were just as damp. “But I don’t understand. Brann said you’d gone missing. That you’d been…taken by something. What happened to you?”

“It’s a long, long story, Mum,” Dani said, wiping at her own cheeks. She bent and retrieved her mother’s cane, handing it to her. “I’ll tell as much as I can, I promise. But later, okay? There’s, um…some people I’d like to introduce to you first.”

She turned, seeking out Gale in the room. He stood close by the door, hands behind his back, studying a faded tapestry on the wall as if it were the finest artwork he’d ever seen. Perhaps she was imagining it, but his eyes seemed a little red themselves. But when he turned to look at her, she couldn’t see it anymore, his smile bringing out the little lines at the corner of his eyes.

He looked so out of place in her old home it was almost comical, but gods he was beautiful. Now that she was seconds from introducing him to her mother, Dani felt suddenly a little sheepish. How in the hells had a poor, Outer City girl like her caught the eye and held the love of an extremely talented, intelligent, charming man like Gale of Waterdeep? She suddenly felt a sudden fear that they weren’t well-matched. He could do better, after all.

She suppressed those thoughts, coming over to stand at his side. “Mum, I’d like you to meet Gale,” she said, taking his hand. “Gale, this is my mother.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Gale said, bowing slightly. He stepped forward, offering his other hand to her mother, as charming as ever, without a hint of embarrassment that he’d been witness to their tearful, dramatic reunion. “Gale Dekarios. Dani has told us much about you.”

“Oh?” Her mother took two awkward steps forward, leaning heavily on her cane, and took Gale’s hand. “Maeva Zavrai. I take it you are…?” She glanced questioningly at Dani.

“Oh! He’s, um…we’re…” She looked at Gale, suddenly at a loss for words, especially given her earlier thoughts. What were they? Or rather, how was she going to introduce what they were to her mother? They were lovers, surely, but was that what she should say? It seemed embarrassing all of a sudden. Plus, they were more than lovers, right? She cast her mind about for other words. Partners felt too distant, soulmates a little too trite. Beloveds? Is that something people said? She struggled to find the right word, something that didn’t seem embarrassing but wasn’t a lie either. It felt important. If not to her mother, then to Gale.

Gale blinked at her and then seemed to register her silent plea. “Ah. We are…together,” he said. He wrapped his arm around Dani and tucked her into his side, smiling down at her with a smile that was nothing but warmth and love and adoration. “Together in love. We haven’t quite ironed out the term for it yet, but that doesn’t mean our bond is any less strong.”

She relaxed. In one fell swoop, Gale had sensed her thoughts, calmed her fears, and provided an answer that was just right. She couldn’t help but smile and wrap her arms around his middle, briefly hiding her face in his chest as she squeezed him tightly, a silent thank you.

When she emerged again, Maeva was glancing between them before smiling warmly. “Yes, I understand. How lovely to meet you, Gale. Welcome to my home.” 

She folded her hands on the top of her cane, still smiling. “I would say I hope you are keeping my Meri girl out of trouble, but…” She cast a knowing look in Dani’s direction.

Gale laughed. “It seems you already know the answer to that question, madam. What more can I say?”

“Oh, please, just Maeva. I’m no madam.”

“As you wish. As to your question, I think it more accurate to say that Dani gets us both in and out of trouble. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gave Dani another squeeze to punctuate his point.

Dani breathed a small sigh of relief, watching Gale and her mother banter. She didn’t know why she’d been so nervous about the two of them meeting, but it seemed now that she had no reason to be. Her mother’s subtle charm matched well with Gale’s wit. They seemed to like each other, at least for now.

“Mum,” she said, stepping out from under Gale’s arm to take one of her mother’s hands. “We have a little surprise for you. If you don’t mind. I may have brought more than just Gale over to meet you.”

Maeva raised her eyebrows, looking a touch wary. “What do you mean?” 

“I have…well, a few other friends waiting outside who also want to meet you.”

Dani’s mother looked both pleasantly surprised and a little anxious at that. “Well…Meridan, that’s lovely, but I don’t think I have, um…”

“Don’t worry about dinner,” Dani said hurriedly. “Gale here is a fantastic cook, so we have dinner covered. And I’ve brought more food besides, to keep you for a few days. And I have gold—so much gold—so you can…you can…” She found herself getting choked up again. She struggled for a moment before shaking her head and smiling. “I’m going to take care of you, Mum. I promise.”

Her mother softened. “Meridan…”

“But we’ll talk about that later,” Dani said hurriedly. “My friends are just outside. Can they come in? Can we spend the evening with you? Please?”

She felt thirteen again, asking her mother if the Rovers could stay for dinner, before she had officially joined them. Her mother gave a soft sigh and a gentle smile.

“Of course. Bring them inside. I’d love to meet them.”

———

Dinner was everything Gale had promised it would be, if Gale said so himself. Really, there was nothing quite as satisfying as making a feast out of a few simple ingredients (and a handful of fresh herbs and spices) and watching everyone enjoy it. He was particularly pleased that Maeva seemed to like his cooking, though he did noticed she had been somewhat anxiously watching as he took charge of her cookstove, fireplace, and side table for all the preparations and cooking. Dani had to assure her several times that Gale could more than manage the finicky eye on the cookstove and that he had his own blades with which to peel and chop ingredients.

Now, with all the companions cramped into the room, sitting on chairs, a footstool, the floor, chatting comfortably with one another as Gale served them their dinner in their usual bowls and plates, it seemed all worries were assuaged. Maeva had relaxed and began conversations with nearly everyone, taking in stride (far better than most they’d met on their long journey since the nautiloid) the wide range of personalities and appearances of all of them. She had, however, started a little when Jaheira introduced herself, recognition and awe warring on her expression.

“I know,” Dani whispered gleefully, hugging her mother’s arm “The Jaheira! From the stories!”

Jaheira had waved this away with her usual humble impatience, turning the subject toward something else as soon as she could.

It was a little fascinating, seeing the similarities between Dani and her mother. Maeva was a slim woman, her skin a slightly darker and richer blue than Dani’s pale silver-blue tones. She and Dani shared the shape of their eyes and their nose, though Maeva’s eyes were turquoise with a ring of gold at the center surrounded by the black sclera common with tieflings. Her dark hair was shot through with several strands and locks of white and was styled in a practical braid coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Perhaps the most noticeable difference between them were their horns. While Dani’s were short and curved in adorable little arcs, Maeva’s were much longer, curling more like ram’s horns down around the sides of her head.

If Gale hadn’t known better, hadn’t heard Dani talk about her father before, he might have guessed that Dani was half-human. But then both Dani and Maeva would smile, flashing their sharpened teeth, and he would brush aside his silly conjectures. Their laughter was also very similar, their voices nearly identical, though Maeva’s was aged a little, a hint deeper in tone, a touch raspier than Dani’s.

Maeva was a beautiful woman, all told, and for one, tiny moment Gale felt as though he was glimpsing into his future, to a picture of Dani with similar lines around her eyes, a similar glint in her eye, a similar quiet amusement in the way she watched the proceedings around her. It was almost tragic, then, that her mother seemed to have such difficulty getting around. She had the makings of a wealthy matron in her demeanor and poise, but by virtue of her disability, it seemed as though she was destined to remain in the Outer City.

Halsin had offered to examine her legs soon after they had settled in, while Gale was cooking. He’d broached the subject carefully and respectfully in a way only Halsin could, but Maeva had only smiled and shaken her head.

“It’s the result of a long illness I had years ago,” she had explained. “We left it unattended a little too long, I’m afraid, and the consequences were…well. What you see now. All the healers I’ve been able to see tell me that my condition isn’t really curable. They can heal and reverse the weakness in my legs for a short time, but it will always come back. Thankfully I’ve reached the point where I only have to visit a healer once a month for such treatment.”

Gale hadn’t missed the way Dani clung to her mother’s hand as she explained all this to Halsin. Though Maeva had smiled and waved away the questions about the weakness in her legs, Dani had looked grave and sad. She laid her head briefly on her mother’s shoulder as she spoke, lost in thought. Perhaps lost in memory. But then the subject had passed, with Halsin respecting Maeva’s insistence that she didn’t require any more healing aid than she already got, and no more was said of about Maeva’s condition.

Instead, as Gale joined Dani and Maeva at the table, the mending and sewing work having been moved to her bed some time earlier, the subject had turned to Dani herself and all that she had been up to. Gale settled into the chair next to Dani, content to eat and listen.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Dani said. “It’s been months, mum.”

“I know, my darling. Brann’s been out searching for you ever since you disappeared.”

“Do you know where he is?” she asked, leaning over the table to get a better look at her mother’s face. “I thought we might run into them on the way over. I’ve been checking all the notices on all the taverns but none of them are featuring the Rovers.”

“I can’t say for sure,” Maeva said, smiling a little sadly. “You know how he is. Always moving from one place to the next. He, Liara, and Kellen have been searching all of Outer City for you and Paraxxel. But they do occasionally make their way back here. They haven’t taken as many gigs as usual, so money is a little tight. I try to help out by letting them sleep here.”

She lapsed into silence, her eyes trailing toward the door, and then the window. Gale got the sense she did this frequently. For Dani? Or for Brann?

“I have to find them,” Dani said. “I have to let them know I’m all right. And then I have to find Axxel. If he’s not with them, then…” She trailed off, unwilling to finish that thought. Beneath the table, Gale reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze.

I’m here, he wanted to say, but he knew that it wasn’t quite enough. Paraxxel had also been taken by the mind flayers, though in a different nautiloid. Dani hadn’t found him anywhere. Not in the nautiloid crash site, not in Moonrise, and not in the mind flayer colony below Moonrise. Their best lead was that he might be in the city. Correspondence between the Chosen of the Dead Three suggested that part of their master plan was to tadpole and release citizens of Baldur’s Gate so that when the time was right, they could order everyone to become mind flayers all at once…and unleash untold chaos.

Paraxxel might very well be one of those who had been released.

Dani gave him a brief, grateful look before turning back to Maeva. “Do you know when they’ll next be back?”

“I can’t say, I’m sorry. Brann usually let’s me know via a sending spell but not always.” 

Dani nodded, understanding, and then paused. “Wait. Since when does Brann know how to cast sending?”

“Oh, darling.” Maeva sighed and patted Dani’s hand where it sat on the table, fork largely forgotten in her grip. “He’s done that for years. It’s one of those whistles he does, I don’t know how it works.”

“Years? Whistles? I don’t—“ And then she seemed to have a realization, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open. Maeva chose that moment to take a slow, poised sip of water from her cup, pointedly ignoring Dani’s stare. Gale had to hide a smile behind his hand, hurrying to take another bite of his food.

“I have so many questions for the both of you,” Dani said to her mother. “The first being why Brann never taught me sending.” She whirled on Gale. “You can teach me sending, right?”

“Of course,” Gale said, hastening to swallow his food. “Anything you desire, my love. Always.”

Maeva laughed. “You may regret that, Gale. Even with a limit of twenty-five words, my Meri girl can find a thousand ways to make mischievous use of such a spell.”

“Oh, I’m rather counting on it, in fact,” Gale said, grinning. He could think of a few dozen messages he’d like to send to Dani himself, for her ears only, just right now. Thankfully they had the tadpole for that. But once the tadpole was gone…something to keep in mind.

Dani tapped her fingers against her mug, only half aware of his teasing comment. “What I don’t understand is if Brann knows how to cast sending, then…why didn’t he use it to try and communicate with me?”

Maeva’s smile faded. “He did. Several times. He never got a response. It was one of the reasons we both…feared the worst had happened.”

“What? I never…” Dani trailed off. She seemed to have the same thought as Gale, glancing up at him.

“The tadpole,” he said softly. “It may be blocking out messages like the sending spell.”

Dani’s expression grew hard. She reached for her mug, mumbling to herself, “Gods damned tadpoles…” 

Maeva reached out and patted Dani’s hand again. “Whatever the reason, he never gave up hope. Neither of us did. We both had to believe you were out there, alive. And…well…” She smiled, her eyes getting a little misty once more. “We were right. Look at you. You don’t look any worse for wear. You’ve made all these friends. You’ve fallen in love…” She laughed slightly. “Took you long enough.”

“Mum, please,” Dani said, looking a touch embarrassed. But when she turned to look up at Gale, there wasn’t a hint of embarrassment in the way she gazed up at him, her smile soft and sweet. Just for him. He wanted to say he loved her, lean down for a small kiss, but she was already looking away, back to her mother.

“Can we…stay the night?” she asked. “Just Gale and I? I’ll send the others on ahead to try and get us a place to stay in the Lower City. I just…I don’t want to leave too soon. There’s so much we haven’t talked about yet.”

Maeva smiled. “I would love that. You’re both welcome to stay in the loft. Anytime you need it.”

“Thank you,” Gale said. “And thank you for letting us use your home for a brief bit of rest this evening as well.”

“Oh, it was no bother at all. It was rather fun, meeting everyone. Legends and strangers alike,” she added, her eyes trailing back to Jaheira. 

The plan was made, then. As Gale gathered up all the dishes, casting prestidigitation to clean them in a snap before handing them back to their respective owners to be packed away, Dani instructed everyone to head toward the Basilisk Gate, led by Wyll and Karlach who of course knew the way (or could figure it out, together), and find a camp for the night.

“We’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” she said. 

And then they were gone. Dani led Gale up to the loft that made up the second floor of the home, showing him around the room that she had grown up in as a child. It was about half the size of the room below, the space made even more cramped by the slope of the ceiling. The furniture itself was sparse; a low bed was tucked beneath the eaves of the roof, a chest of two drawers on the opposite wall, a couple of old instruments tucked in a corner, a stack of blankets folded at the foot of the bed. 

Gale had to swallow his initial reaction of dismay. Not at the thought of sleeping up here—anything was better than a bedroll outside—but at the thought of Dani growing up in this room. It seemed unfit for any child, and yet he knew that other children had to deal with far worse. At least she had her own bed. Her own room.

“I used to hate it up here,” she said quietly, running her hand over the top of the chest of drawers. It came away a little grayer with dust. She brushed it off onto her trousers. “It could get really cold at nights. And if it rained, I had to push my bed to the other side because there’s a hole in the roof that never gets fixed, no matter how many times we try. I only ever liked sleeping up here with Liara was with us. Then it was fun. Cozy. But once I left home…” She shook her head. “I started to miss it. What I wouldn’t have given some nights to have my own bed again, and not some cheap straw-stuffed mattress in a pub where the midges come and bite.”

“What about now?” Gale asked. He gathered her close from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. “Traveling with us?” 

He was still trying to calibrate his thoughts about the room, processing her words. Cold, cozy, fun, rainy. This place held years of memories and experiences.

She was quite a moment, thinking, her hands resting lightly on his arms where they were wrapped around her middle. “I guess I don’t miss it as much,” she said softly. “I mean…it’s preferable to a bedroll, don’t get me wrong. But the sleeping alone part has always sucked, here or otherwise.” She turned her head to look up at him with a little smile. “I think I prefer sleeping with you to sleeping alone in my old bed, you know?”

He chuckled and kissed her. “I think I understand the sentiment,” he said. He indicated the bed with his eyes. “So. To bed, or shall we stay up a while longer?”

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Dani said, slipping out of his embrace. “I want to talk to my mum some more. If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course.”

She looked unconvinced. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m…I don’t know. Neglecting you.”

“Dani.” He took her arms in his hands, waiting until she was looking him in the face so that she could see his sincerity. “I understand. It’s your mother. You haven’t seen her in months. Trust me…I understand completely.”

What he wouldn’t give to be able to see his own mother, truly. To tear open a hole in the realms and step through it, manipulating it into a portal that dumped him directly onto Morena Dekarios’ lush carpets in Waterdeep. But seeing Tara in Rivington had reminded him exactly why he couldn’t do that. His mother still didn’t know everything about the orb in his chest, much less the command Mystra had given him. And until that matter was resolved…no. He couldn’t send any word to his mother, much less see her.

“Go and join her,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll wait up here for you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I…thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dani.”

She climbed back down the ladder, leaving Gale several feet above, only the floorboards of the loft between him and the two of them below. Gale readied himself for bed and stretched out on the mattress, a book in his hand, though he barely read any of it. His mind was turning over various moments of the night. Seeing Dani and her mother tearfully reunite. Watching their companions fold themselves into the room and make themselves at home, cheerful and kind to Maeva. Hearing about Maeva’s condition, or the Merry Rovers out searching for Dani. It was a lot. And they hadn’t even scratched the surface of what had happened to Dani herself.

It wasn’t until a while later that Gale had noticed how quiet it had gotten downstairs. Curious, he quietly descended the ladder, expecting to find Dani and Maeva at the table. Instead, he met an empty room, the sounds of deep, even breathing one tiny room over.

The curtain that separated the rooms was half opened. Peering inside, Gale saw two forms lying on the bed, arms wrapped around each other. Maeva and Dani, with Dani’s head on her mother’s shoulder. She looked like a child in her mother’s arms again, still fully clothed, save for her boots. She must have dozed off a while ago, likely before her mother had drifted to sleep.

Gale watched them for a moment, a strange ache in his chest. Not of jealousy, but of something else. Something he thought it wise not to name. Eventually he pulled the curtain fully closed and returned to the loft.

After months of being apart, Dani likely needed a night where she could be nothing more than her mother’s daughter again. No responsibilities, no threats, none of the weight of the world on her shoulders. Just a girl in her mother’s arms. Gale could handle one night without her curled up next to him, if it meant he could give her that.

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3ficfeb #my fic #oc #dani #meridan zavrai #gale #gale dekarios #i am obsessed with dani and maeva and the rovers #when i tell you there is so much backstory in my head #just living rent free #unwritten #anyway no edits as per usual lmao

[harpersheroes]

VALAR'S CHARACTERIZATION KEYSTONES: TOP 10

aka, 10 things (media, characters, quotes, lyrics, etc.) that form the fundamental aspects of who valar is. it'a a long post.

ONE. "prayer for peace", by saint francis assisi.

lord, make me an instrument of your peace: where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. o divine master, grant that i may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

TWO. samwise gamgee, from the lord of the rings.

SAM: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something. FRODO: What are we holding on to, Sam? SAM: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

THREE. this quote, by marianne robinson in "gilead"

“Love is holy because it is like grace--the worthiness of its object is never really what matters.”

FOUR. melvin blevins, from old gods of appalachia

marcie had risen from the table and was about to head into the kitchen when she looked up suddenly. “melvin,” she said shortly. melvin was on his feet faster than most might credit a man of his size, following marcie to the door. outside, they could see someone making their way from the road to the front steps […] [marcie] turned the porchlight on, and stepped out to peer into the gathering dusk at four people walking up the path to the house. melvin lingered inside the door, just behind her. […] marcie turned cold eyes to eveyln, who still stood on the porch untouched. “you should go. i think your flock has gone astray, and if you don’t wrangle them, i will.” “miss walker, i swear i never—” melvin stepped in before marcie wrangled anyone. he hadn’t seen miz walker this angry in a long, long time. he held his hands up in a peacekeeping gesture. “you need to get on now. with or without them. get off miz walker’s property. now.”

FIVE. galahad in this exchange, from "galahad" by grant piercy

ARTHUR: “But this is not a time of woe; there is peace and plenty for all. There is enough to eat. There is shelter and safety for everyone. This city remains open for anyone who would need succor.” GALAHAD: “Then why are they crying in the street, your grace? Why do they starve and die? Why do the knights protect the lords and not the commons? Why do they petition you and the court by the hundreds? Why are the streets full and the gutters overrun? Why am I here, my king?”

SIX. "the guardian (ellie's song)", by shawn james

so i've become the bringer of death / a lover of life / the one who guards from the dark of the night / i'll be the hammer of war / justice and mercy don't live side by side / so in retribution i abide / i'll tip the scales to justice's end / but can it make amends?

SEVEN. this quote from "the setting sun", by osamu dazai

this i want to believe implictly: man is born for love and revolution.

EIGHT. the ninth doctor, from doctor who

NINE: just this once, rose: everybody lives!! DALEK EMPEROR: all hail the doctor, the great exteriminator! NINE, with his hands on the delta wave: i'll do it! DALEK EMPEROR: then prove yourself doctor: are you a coward, or a killer? NINE, taking his hands off the delta wave: a coward, any day.

NINE. this quote, from "crush" by richard silken

love for you, it's larger than the usual romantic love. it's like a religion.

TEN. this post from leneemusing

i would take your nightmares if i could i would become every broken thing inside you i would become the glass inside your lungs if it would grant you one peaceful breath

#valar.

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.  

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo imagine

[221bshrlocked]

sweaty hands, reluctant hearts

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 13685 (god this wasn’t supposed to be this long I’m actually sorry this time)

Warnings: Angst and Smut (my fav). Hurt/Jealous Mando -> Touch Starved/Rough Mando -> Fluffy Mando -> Shy Mando. Penetrative Sex. Oral Sex. There’s lot’s of sweat because exertion yall. Breeding Kink 😏. Slight Exhibitionism. Overstimulation and slight slight non-con because of oversensitivity. Umm, squirting 🙃. Dirty/Sweet talk. Spanking (ass and hoohaa).

Summary: He never thought the day would come when he’d hear you saying you wanted to leave him. Yes there was an understanding between the two of you that you were hired to help him care for the Child and to somehow keep the Razor Crest alive and working. And he knew it made sense for you to find work elsewhere now that the Razor Crest was destroyed and the Child was with his own kind. But he just assumed you weren’t going to leave considering it’s been a couple of months since he’d given the kid to the Jedi and you never brought it up. It hurt hearing you say those words, especially when he realized he wasn’t meant to hear them and that you were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people. Turns out, all Mando needed was to see the Marshal eye-fucking you as you fixed the new ship and overshared your thoughts for him to snap and finally make a move. Hopefully he can change your mind...

A/N: Yall, this is post Season 2 so sadly Grogu is not here, hence the angst! Umm, this was a lot to handle because you know, that gif here. Enjoy ☺️

It’s been months since the events that transpired on the cruiser. Months since he’d given away a piece of himself to an unknown being. Months since he’d sat down and re-evaluated his life’s mission. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to return to Tatooine of all planets but he needed some time to think of his next steps. So much has changed over the course of the past year and it took the Mandalorian longer than usual to realize that he can’t use bounty hunting to fill the void in his heart. 

One thing he did know for sure, however, was that he couldn’t have managed to survive the emotional and physical changes without your presence. Somehow, you’ve managed to make his life easier and by a whole lot. He has never felt this grateful for having a companion, maker, didn’t even think it possible to ever consider another as such. He’d spent years and years living by the Creed and never once doubting his way of living, but he found himself questioning everything about himself when you came in. It wasn’t that he was suddenly open to the idea of taking his helmet off or anything, it was more of a passing thought on what it would be like if he were to open up to you more, perhaps even share with you more than his name and an abridged version of how he became a Mandalorian. 

He mulled over how he would approach the topic with you, finding himself growing more nervous when he considered how you’d react. You’ve never given him any inclination of ever thinking of him as more than your boss and he knew he needed to figure out a way to make this seem natural and not forced. Frankly, he found it interesting how you managed to read him better than anyone he’s ever met, and he wished he could ask you how you’d done so when he never took off his helmet. 

Mando pushed the thought aside for now, cursing to himself as he dragged the giant piece of scrap you’d requested for him to pick up from Peli. He wanted to argue with you then, tell you that the only reason for coming to this awfully hot planet was to take some time off, if that was even possible, and avoid falling into the temptation of another mission. But he couldn’t find it in himself to say any of these things, mostly because you were the one that managed to procure the new ship for him and you were also the one that told him the two of you were in serious need of rest. He’d only realized the ship needed fixing when he landed and you told him you would get right on as soon as he picked up the necessary pieces from Peli. He felt a little out of the loop when he’d gone to her and found her giving him everything you’d requested for, and he knew you must have contacted her before you landed or else she wouldn’t have been this quick. 

As he made his way through the quiet “streets” of Mos Pelgo, he thought back to what Peli said to him an hour ago. Had he not considered her as a friend, he would have responded rudely when she bugged him about you. As much as he wished to humor the idea that you looked at him as more than a colleague, partner, whatever it was the two of you were, he didn’t want to grow any more false hope, especially now that he’d already given up the one thing that managed to crawl into his heart. 

Mando saw that you’d moved the ship behind the cantina and he chose to blame the heat for the way his skin crawled with goosebumps because no, he didn’t suddenly feel calm at the thought of you. 

He shook his head from the intruding thought and was about to say something to you when he saw who was standing nearby. If there was ever a time where he didn’t wish to see Cobb Vanth, it was definitely now. The bounty hunter put down the scraps of metal before moving closer to where the two of you were standing. He was sheltered behind a shack of sorts and allowed his heart rate to return to normal before listening in on you. 

“I don’t believe you sweetheart.” The Marshal threw back his drink and shook his head when you shrugged your shoulders at him and Mando felt his stomach twist at the endearment. Since when were the two of you on such a close basis?

“Believe whatever you want Marshal, I was only answering your question. Besides, it’s not like I’m actively looking right now.” Mando watched as you swiped the sweat rolling down your face with the back of your hand and swore when he felt the fabric of his pants grow tighter around his crotch. He felt dirty watching your every move, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the way your muscles gleamed under the excruciating sun rays. He cursed the day you bought that garment and he recalled back to the first time he watched you work in it. Mando had almost tripped over the child that day because he never expected to see you walking around with the chest binding so visible to his eyes. It was worse when you reached up high for something because if his eyes lingered long enough, he could see your undergarment peeking from the low-hanging pants of the overalls. 

The bounty hunter had to take a few deep breaths to move on from the inappropriate thoughts he was having and he narrowed his eyes at Cobb when he saw him walk closer to you. 

“Are you ever going to tell him?” The Mandalorian watched as your expression shifted slowly to a more sombre look and he was familiar enough with you to know that you weren’t too happy with that question or the answer you were going to give Cobb. 

“I- I don’t know. I wish I could tell him about how I fe- what I’m thinking about but I can’t...and I also can’t just say ‘Hey Mando, I had a blast taking care of the kid and getting hunted by the kriffing Empire. I fixed the ship for you so see you later.’ It’s not right and I didn’t realize it would be this difficult to come to terms with what I have to do. But I can’t keep doing this, it’s not fair.” 

Whatever the Mandalorian thought you were going to say, that certainly didn’t make the top of the list. He almost fell back when he registered the meaning behind your words. You wanted to leave. You’ve been wanting to move on for a while and you weren’t sure how to tell him. You were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people and relying on his opinion to decide what you were going to do. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind and he tried to see if he’d done anything wrong. Besides the whole thing with Gideon and Bo Katana, there wasn’t really anything he’d done that would inspire such a reaction from you. Not that those weren’t enough to change your mind about staying with him but it was all in the past now. 

The sound of laughter broke Mando out of his haze and he turned towards you again, watching as you slithered down the ship, clenching his fists tightly when he saw Cobb grab your hips to help you down. He was torn between strutting towards the two of you and punching the daylights out of him and remaining where he was to listen in on your conversation. He had no right to do either, but he needed to know.

“I hate to ask you this question because it defeats the whole purpose of this entire chat but...have you thought of how he’d take it? Should you decide on-” You pointed to something on the floor and Cobb leaned down to grab it for you, handing it and gauging your reaction to his question as you continued to work. 

“Why else do you think I’ve been putting this off? Of course I’ve thought of how he’d react. But I deserve more than...ugh, I don’t mind this, I swear I don’t, but I also can’t just sit back and pretend I don’t want more.” You motioned violently to the ship and to what you were doing as you spoke, shaking your head at the man smiling smugly in front of you before throwing out the tools and snatching his drink from him. 

Mando couldn’t stand to be near you, not after what he’d heard and certainly not after taking in your body language and the way Cobb was practically undressing you without shame. He stepped back, leaving the scraps where they were and heading to the cantina to take his mind off of what he’d just witnessed. He walked in and paid no mind to the patrons scattered across the room, handing the man behind the counter more credits than he cared to count and asking him for his strongest stuff. He didn’t bother to address the judgmental stare he was receiving and took hold of the bottle before walking out again. 

It was close to sunset and the Mandalorian walked until the edge of the town before deciding to continue until he reached a small hill filled with large boulders. Sliding down one of the rocks, he sighed deeply before taking off his helmet, the hissing sound instilling a sense of guilt deep in his chest. He was ashamed at feeling such an emotion towards what he based his entire life on. But he couldn’t take it anymore. His anger rose as he opened the large bottle in his hand, throwing it back until he felt the stinging drink burn his throat for a few seconds before aggressively setting it on the floor next to him. 

Mando wasn’t able to put what he was feeling into a proper string of thoughts but he did know it was an odd mixture of hurt and anger with a tiny bit of sexual frustration. He couldn’t get the image of you sweaty and heaving as you worked on his ship out of his mind, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back to meditate back on the way your muscles clenched and pulled every time you molded two metal scraps together or how they positively shined when you carried things across the sand. He’d tried his hardest to set all of these feelings and rather inappropriate thoughts aside but he couldn’t any longer. Not when there was a chance of you leaving him, and perhaps to someone like the Marshal too. 

Perhaps it was unwise to deny his heart’s desires for so long and Mando was sure that he’d met his breaking point because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Normally, he was able to distract himself and force his mind to stray away from conjuring up the filthiest images of you wreathing and crying beneath him as he drove his cock into your heat. But he had no hold over his mind at this moment, not that he was to blame. He went from shutting his own self out to opening the floodgates, and there was no going back. 

He sighed heavily when his thoughts shifted to what you said about him and he took a long sip from the bottle before turning his attention to the setting suns. He didn’t know what he could even say if you ever approached the topic with him. You’d been wanting to leave for a while now and somehow managed to hide it from him. All those nights spent running from Moff Gideon and other bounty hunters and you haven’t complained once, choosing to keep it to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was hurt because you felt the need to hide something like this from him or because you were awfully understanding of how these complaints could distract him. 

And then there was the whole thing with the ship. He had assumed that the two of you sort of shared it now but it seemed that you never saw it as belonging to you but only to him. And you went out of your way to fix it now when you didn’t have to. Mando didn’t notice his tears until he licked his drying lips and tasted the saltiness across his mouth. He wiped his cheeks and laughed at himself. When had he become like this? First it was the child and now you. 

He wished he could take it all back, to have never met the kid or you. His life was simple and not complicated and now, now he was faced with the prospect of losing you as well. The bounty hunter dismissed the thought as quickly as it came because he knew deep down that it was better to have had the two of you in his life, even for a short while, than to have never known you. It wasn’t ideal but since when was his life ideal?

As the suns set beneath the sky, the Mandalorian looked down and saw that the bottle was still almost full. Not wanting to finish it now, because he might actually need it later when you decide to leave, Mando stood up and slowly made his way back into town. He needed to sleep, not to rest but to put a pause on his rather depressing thoughts if only for a little bit. When he saw the town come into view, he took a deep breath and put his helmet back on. 

The town was quieter than usual and the Mandalorian found himself going straight to the ship instead of joining the others. He’d spent the past few days enjoying his nights in the corner of the busy cantina, watching as you won one Sabacc game after another without breaking a sweat while everyone groaned in annoyance at how well you were kicking their asses. But he couldn’t trust himself tonight, not around you and certainly not around the Marshal. 

Trying not to bring too much attention to himself, Mando walked past the cantina towards the ship, already thinking of how relieved he’d be once he used the refresher. Going up the ramp, he was about to walk to the small, private room near the cockpit to grab a change of clothes when he heard a loud shriek that sounded a lot like his name coming from the opposite end of the ship. Mando quickly turned around and shut his eyes in exasperation when he saw you approaching him far angrier than he’d ever seen you. He set the bottle down and turned his attention towards you, raising an eyebrow to himself when he saw your chest heaving beneath the chest band. He averted his eyes quickly, refusing to think of you sweaty and breathless under other circumstances. Maker, he couldn’t go no like this.

“Where in the kriffing hell have you been? You were supposed to bring the parts from Peli hours ago and I have to find out from some kid that you just left them on the ground and walked away to- hell, I don’t even know what was more important for you than bringing me the scraps so I could fix the ship? Really, Mando, I understand that it’s been a little weird and difficult lately but I barely ask for anything and, ugh, maker.” You held back from voicing more of your thoughts, afraid that you’ve already gone far with asking him where he was. He didn’t really need to tell you what his business was but you’d assumed the two of you have come to an understanding regarding such matters, at the very least to ensure everyone’s safety. 

Mando stood there in silence and took a deep breath before turning around and walking into his room, afraid he’d give himself away if he tried to respond to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration when he quietly walked away from you, anger rising in your chest as he came out and made his way past you to the refresher. Before you could think twice of what you were doing, you were sprinting past him and standing in front of the open door, pushing your fingers into his beskar-clad chest as you hissed at him.

“I’m not sure what happened or why you’re giving me the silent treatment right now but this is not how we deal with our problems okay.” Mando took a few steps back as you continued to shove your finger into him, trying his hardest to not grab your wrist and push you against the nearest wall. “We talk things out and we come up with a way to fix things and compromise if need be.” Mando’s back hit the wall, and he threw his head back to avoid your gaze, unable to hold back the chuckle that rose from beneath the helmet at your words. 

How ironic.

“Did I say something funny?” You narrowed your eyes up at him and wished for once that he’d remove that god damn helmet so you could gauge his reaction.

“You mean we should talk things out like you and Cobb Vanth today? Or would it be different?” Mando’s chest tightened when he noticed the surprised expression on your face, knowing very well this was not what you expected to hear from him. He was a rational man, never once letting his mind give away to such simplistic thoughts but you’d struck a nerve and he could no longer hide his jealousy. Yes, it was jealousy. As much as he hated to admit it, that’s what he was feeling right now, what he’s been feeling all day long. It was childish and unlike him but it wasn’t going to do him any good if he continued to ignore it. 

“I’m dying to know if that’s what you mean. You obviously don’t have an issue telling him about how difficult it’s been working with me and how you can’t keep doing this.” It was your turn to take a few steps back when you saw his shoulders push out and make him taller than he already was. He continued to walk towards you, throwing his clothes to the ground and almost apologizing when you tripped on your feet when he was only a foot away from you.

“How about this, let’s start with what you apparently wish you could tell me but can’t seem to find the right words to do so. What was it you said to him? You deserve more than taking care of a kid and constantly escaping the Empire and other bounty hunters? Or wait, how can I forget...it’s not fair dealing with this mess of a ship and you’re looking for somewhere else to go?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as the Mandalorian repeated back the words you voiced perhaps a little too loudly earlier today, already feeling your eyes fill with unshed tears at harsh his tone. 

“I- I didn’t…you weren’t meant to-” You tripped over your words and almost flinched when he cut you off. 

“What? I wasn’t supposed to hear you say any of those things? A little strange don’t you think, since you seemed to have a lot to say about me to the Marshal.” Mando should have stopped himself from saying the next few words but his heart was torn into a million pieces and it wasn’t fair for him either.

“Well guess what, sweetheart, the Razor Crest blew up. Moff Gideon is taken care of and the Empire isn’t after us anymore. Every bounty hunter knows better than to so much as look at me and...and the kid isn’t around anymore for you to take care of. He’s gone, I lost him. So if you were worried about hurting me, you’re a little too late for that.” The Mandalorian barely held himself back from pulling you into his arms when he saw tears rolling down your cheek, clenching his fists tightly when he noticed the way you hugged yourself and frowned at him.

“Din-” It broke him to hear you use his name, especially now of all times. He hasn’t heard you say it once in the past few months, even when the two of you were alone. It was the twisting of the knife, and he bit his tongue to distract himself from saying something he couldn’t possibly take back.

“Do what you want, I won’t stand in the way. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help you out with whatever it was you were telling him today. After all, you deserve more right? Deserve someone more than me...someone who’s willing to share a lot more than his name.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Mando stepped away and walked back to his room, not caring about the clothes on the ground or how hurt you must have been feeling from listening to him. 

He softly shut the door behind him and moved to his bed, throwing himself on it and hanging his head low to catch his breath. This was not how he saw the night going, not remotely. He was hoping to ask you about this tomorrow in a less hostile manner and without making it seem like he was blaming you. But something about your words struck a nerve in him and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, not when you were suggesting things you yourself weren’t willing to follow.

Din wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence but the hissing sound of the door opening brought him back from his haze and he opened his eyes when he heard you walking towards him. You’d never once come into his room, not even when he occasionally gave you permission. You sniffed twice before approaching the bed and standing right in front of him and he was reminded of when the child would cry to try to catch his attention. 

“Din, it was never my intention to hurt you. I was trying to do the opposite..thought I was doing the right thing by thinking about this before I could talk to you but I’m realizing now that I’ve hurt you.” Din noticed the way you were ringing your fingers nervously and held himself back from taking your hands into his to try and put you at ease. 

“I- I only spoke with Cobb because he- because he noticed the way I was looking at you. He noticed how I can never seem to focus on anything or anyone else when you’re around. He- he could tell I was having a hard time coming to terms with how I feel about you...how I’ve felt about you for a while now.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your confessions, unable to properly register what you were implying because he could never even humor the idea that you’d have feelings for him. He raised his head and finally looked at you, frowning when he saw how red your eyes were from crying. 

“The last thing I want to do is to leave you, please believe me. But I wasn’t sure if you even wanted me around after...after everything with Moff Gideon and the Jedi. As far as I knew, you brought me on to take care of Grogu and fix the Razor Crest. We’ve barely spoken ever since the cruiser and I just thought that I was only around because you couldn’t find the time to tell me that you don’t need me anymore.” Hearing you say that you thought he didn’t need you caught Din off guard and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, instantly taking hold of your hands and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. You swallowed the lump in your throat and maintained your gaze on his visor, hoping that he could see how truthful you were being with him and maybe respond, if only with just a simple word. 

“When I said I deserved more, I was just- I swear I wasn’t talking about your Creed or wanting to see you. As much as I wish that was possible, I would never...could never ask you for something like that. I was only telling him that I might need some time away to maybe forget how...maker, to perhaps try and set aside my emotions because the last thing you need right now is for me to lay that on you. I don’t want you to think that you owe me anything because you don’t, gods you don’t owe anyone anything, not after what you’ve been through. But I could feel myself becoming more attached to you, especially after everything that happened on the cruiser. I want more with you but I don’t want to push you towards anything you’re not ready for.” Before you could wipe the tears away from your cheeks, Din was raising his glove-covered fingers and softly skimming them over your skin, and he hadn’t realized how harsh and loud his breathing was until he felt you rest your hand on his chest.

“There’s nothing between me and Cobb. And you should know by now that he’s...friendly, with everyone.” You smiled shyly at him before leaning into the hand resting on your cheek, nuzzling further into his palm when he swiped his thumb against your lower lip. There was so much Din wanted to say but he couldn’t find the right words that would convey what he was feeling. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind about your admission and the fact that you have been returning his affection for a while now. 

Din didn’t realize how long he was quiet until you cleared your throat and let go of his hand, stepping away from him and looking around to see if you should just leave. Before you could head to the door, however, Din was standing up and moving towards you, his eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort before he made his next move. Your chest was rising and falling a little quicker than he liked but he quickly realized it was probably because of how you were coming to terms with what you just said to him. 

You watched as he took his gloves off and set them on the small table behind you, suppressing a gasp when you felt his warm, calloused hands wrap around yours before bringing them to his helmet. He could tell you were letting him control all of your movements and found it difficult to accept just how much you were willing to give to him.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I have been thinking about this for a while.” Din smiled when he saw your eyebrows furrow in question at his words. “Taking this off.” He saw the moment you understood what he was saying, not expecting you to pull your hands away from him and taking a few steps back until your back was against the wall.

“That’s...that’s not what I- Din, I wasn’t lying when I said it wouldn’t matter to me if-” He smiled at how defensive you suddenly were and stepped towards you once more, and you found it annoying that he barely kept a foot between you two, his natural scent hitting you like a blaster to the gut. 

“I know.” Din cut you off before taking your hands into his once more, rubbing your knuckles to put you at ease as he continued. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and- it’s not that I’ll walk around without it now, far from it. It’ll only be when we’re alone, when no one is around.” He hoped you could read in between the lines because this would be the closest he’d come to admitting how important you were to him, for now at least.

“Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

That definitely snapped you out of your haze and you tilted your head to the side before asking home what he was referring to. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Din raised an eyebrow at your response. Have you already forgotten?

“On the cruiser, when I- before Grogu went with the Jedi.” His hands tightened around your fingers as he said the child’s name and you were momentarily distracted before realizing what he meant. 

“Din I...I never saw you.” 

For a split second, it felt like someone had taken Din and carbon froze him before throwing him on an ice planet. 

“What?” He held his breath, unable to move a muscle until he made sure he heard you correctly. 

“I never saw you. I turned around when you reached for your helmet. I didn’t...it was a moment with you and Grogu. It didn’t feel right to look at you.” You tried to maintain a semblance of control on your voice but it cracked a few times as you admitted to him. As much as you yearned to see him without the mask, you didn’t think it proper without his clear consent. 

Din’s sudden intake of breath made you nervous and you hated how for a moment, you wished you didn’t tell him because there was now a high probability that he wouldn’t take the mask off. 

“Cyar'ika, please.” you shivered at the low tone of his voice, finding it harder to focus on anything but the touch of his skin. Once again, Din slowly brought your hands to the sides of his visor, pushing the palm of your hands on the beskar and softly nodding at you. A sudden sense of relief washed over him when he saw the slight nod of your head. 

Din found it endearing how your whole face scrunched up in focus as the two of you slowly pulled the helmet off of his head, the soft hissing sound as it unlocked making your hands dampen with sweat. As you raised the visor along with him, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes as soon as you saw the skin of his chin. Unbeknownst to you, Din was watching your every reaction and felt a little nudge in his chest when he saw how tightly shut your eyes were. When the beskar was off completely, Din took it from your hands and placed it next to him, swallowing the lump in his throat when he turned back and saw you were still refusing to look at him.

He reluctantly took your hands into his and placed them on his chest, hoping that you’d finally open your eyes without him begging you again. 

“I’m sorry I- maker, this is..this is probably more intense for you than it is for me and I’m not making it any better with my nervousness and- okay. Okay.” You took a deep breath before allowing your eyes to flutter open, unable to exhale as soon as you laid your gaze on him. Din was probably unaware of how nervous he looked and it took you a few longer seconds to realize you needed to breathe again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, the long nights where you imagined what he could look like fading into thin air because nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared you for what you were currency seeing. 

His features were somehow soft but a little rugged, and you found yourself committing every inch of his skin to memory, filling your mind’s eye with every minute facial expression so you could dream of him when you fall asleep. It was oddly not surprising at all that he had a stubble, the scattered dark and slightly graying hairs across his jaw and above his lips making him seem older than he probably was. And you weren’t sure if he knew he was furrowing his eyebrows and then you realized he most likely didn’t because he was so used to wearing his helmet that he never had to learn how to control his facial expressions around anyone. And it was endearing how his nose flared as he continued to breathe heavily under your gaze, and if it weren’t for the fact that this was a serious moment, you would have leaned over and kissed the curved bridge of his nose and the scrunch of his eyebrows to put him at ease. 

Din wasn’t sure what he thought your reaction would be and he felt his chest tighten with every long moment you spent without so much as a comment. 

You were unaware of how long this dreadful moment must have been for the Mandalorian and you continued to study him in hopes of finding answers to questions you’ve wished you could ask him ever since he hired you. There were heavy bags under his eyes and you wished you were more persistent with him when it came to his resting schedule but he always seemed to wave you off whenever you told him he needed to sleep. Though you knew this stress had to do more with Grogu no longer being here and less with how often he slept. You had half expected to find his gaze harsh and far off but when you did finally meet his eyes, you found them filled with unshed tears and a multitude of emotions that you knew would go unexplained until he had the strength to voice them. They were a deep and beautiful shade of brown, ones you knew you’d never be able to turn away from now that you’ve had a proper look at him. And you couldn’t help but notice how their color reminded you of a Nightbloomer just after you picked it from its roots. 

All of that, however, could not compare to when you finally let your eyes descend to his lips. They were a darker shade of pink, and you swore you saw them parting as soon as you looked at them. His lower lip was trembling and you wished more than anything to swipe your thumb against it if only to feel the soft skin melt at your touch. You wished that was as far as your mind had gone but the longer you looked at the curve of his mouth, the more you wished you could lean forward and mold your lips with his. It was even worse because you had a feeling that the stubble of his mustache would cause the softest of burns on your lips. 

Din could no longer take the loud silence enveloping the room and he swallowed nervously when he saw how focused you seemed to be on his lips. He had some idea of what you were probably thinking because he was thinking the exact same thing but he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to make the first move. This reluctance evaporated when he noticed the way your eyes instantly moved to his neck as the cartilage moved and returned to rest when he gulped, and he realized that you may have been having slightly more inappropriate thoughts than he originally thought.

He was about to voice his worries when he saw your hands move from his beskar-clad chest to his face and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down apprehensively at the digits moving closer to his skin. You misunderstood his nervousness for uncomfort and immediately ceased all movements, returning your focus on his eyes to look for any inclination as to what he wanted. 

“Can I- mhmm, may I touch you?” Your whispered question was too loud for the two of you and Din parted his lips to say something but noticed how dry his throat was and realized he couldn’t trust his own voice. Nodding slightly at your request, he waited with bated breath as your fingers rose to his face and found himself shaking with anticipation at the prospect of finally feeling your touch on the most intimate part of him. 

When you were only a few inches away from him, Din felt his heart thumping wildly at his chest and he immediately shut his eyes when he felt the feather-light touch of your fingers on his cheeks. The harsh yet shaky intake of breath almost made you lose control and you had to remind yourself that, besides Grogu, you were the only one to ever touch him so intimately and so softly since he was a child. As much as you wished to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you could lay as many kisses on his face as you could, you knew it would be too much for him and that he needed you to go slow with him. He was practically shattering under your attention and you hoped he would allow you to do this as many times as possible in the coming days. 

Din couldn’t put a name to what he was experiencing at the moment but he knew he didn’t want you to stop touching him, ever again. He decided that he’d spend every moment with you alone without his helmet and with yours hands skimming some part of him. The longer you kept your palms on his cheeks, the calmer his heart beat and it wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized his eyes were shut. As they slowly fluttered open, he was met with the most beautiful sight in the world: your own deep irises staring at your own thumb as it softly passed over his quivering lips. 

“You’re...beautiful.” 

It was a simple truth and you wished there was a more sincere word you could use to describe what he was to you, what he meant to you but your mind was overflowing with images of waking up next to him every day and kissing his eyes and cheeks and nose and lips and anywhere else you could reach. 

Din’s hold tightened around your waist and you watched as he leaned forward until there was barely an inch between the two of you. 

“Mesh'la, I would really like to kiss you.” The request barely passed his lips yet you were already standing up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, finding them as soft and gentle as you imagined them to be. Din was afraid his heart would give out any moment now because nothing could have prepared him for the taste of you, let alone the boldness with which you were claiming him. He sighed into you, unintentionally parting his lips and pushing you harder into the wall when he felt your tongue sneak into his mouth and explore him. Din wasn’t sure what he should be doing but then you were moving your hands to the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair and he all but lost it. As you gently tugged on his hair, Din found himself mirroring your actions and before he knew it, the kiss was no longer innocent and sweet but hungry and needy. You sucked on his tongue and tilted your head to the side, wanting to commit every small detail to memory so when you shut your eyes at night, you’d kiss him in your dreams. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back for a second to allow the two of you to breathe but Din didn’t like that, chasing your mouth and molding his lips with yours once more to be certain that yes, this was happening, and that no, this was not a dream. You moaned into the kiss, finding his desperate need to claim your mouth again more of a turn on than you cared to admit. And then his hands were slipping inside your overalls and holding you against his chest, the warmth of him stretching down to where you wished you could feel him. 

This sudden intrusive thought and the harsh grasp of your hips snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should be slowing things down for his sake. Against your will, you gently pushed his chest away and tried to think of anything but the way he was heaving above you from the intensity of the kiss. When you looked at him and saw panic and hesitation etched on his face, you returned your hands to his cheeks again and lowered his head until it was resting against your own. 

“There’s nothing I want more than to feel every inch of your skin against mine right now...but- but I don’t want to push you to do something that- maker….that might be too much for you?” You pulled back and waited until he opened his eyes again before continuing. “I feel like you just made a dramatic decision by taking the helmet off in front of me and- and you’re probably feeling a multitude of emotions right now and I don’t want to make you think that I-” 

Din didn’t like what you were saying, frowning down at you as he grabbed the back of your neck and violently pulled you towards him again. You were surprised by the sudden shift of his touch, fisting your hands in his cowl as he devoured your lips once more, not really giving you a chance to say anything else. Biting your lower lip, Din abruptly ended the kiss and pressed his lips across your skin, nipping and licking at your jaw as he pulled your hair down until he had access to your neck. You gasped his name and felt his stubble scratch deliciously at your shoulder. As you moaned against the wall, Din couldn’t back anymore and bit down hard on your shoulder, smiling when he heard your breath hitch at his rough ministrations. 

“Din, oh gods, Din please.” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him exactly and you hoped he’d at the very least continue what he was doing. 

“Cyar'ika, I want to have you. I’ve spent many nights dreaming of your lips, your touch, y-your skin against mine as I-” Din hesitated and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers slipping beneath the chest band that you finally registered his voice. Fuck, how had you not notice it a second ago? You thought the vocoder was what altered it, made it deeper perhaps. But no, it only made it sound more intimidating. You weren’t sure what made you clench your thighs together, the way he spoke to you of his desires, or how strained and gruff his voice was as he whispered his secrets to you. You gulped loudly and hesitantly met his eyes, finding the soft brown irises barely visible, his dilated pupils letting you know what he was thinking. 

Licking your lips, you nodded at him and fell into a fit of giggles when he leaned down and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, quickly moving to his cot and laying you down on your back before moving away. You were about to ask him what he was doing when you saw his hands swiftly move through the beskar armor. For some reason, watching his hands expertly take off the cuirass and move to the beskar of his thighs made your heart skip a beat and you wouldn’t dare move a muscle, afraid to miss the show he was unintentionally putting on for you. So busy marveling at his deft fingers, you didn’t notice Din slowing his movements and looking at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity when he saw how hard you were breathing. 

You broke out of your trance when you saw he stopped moving, embarrassment washing over you when you realized Din had caught you shamelessly staring at him as he came closer to revealing to you more of his skin. You’d expected him to move on, or at least pretend he hadn’t just caught you licking your lips while staring at his fingers but no, it seemed that Din was very much enjoying the effect he had on you because his smile grew when he saw your eyes look past him, pretending to focus on something else behind him and not his hands. 

You never lost his attention though, and he maintained his eyes on you as he removed all of his armor and took his boots off. You tried to be a little more subtle but gave up when he leaned down over you and pushed you into his covers. You wanted to ask him why he was still dressed but bit back the inquiry, afraid he’d misunderstand and move away all together at your question. He captured your gaze and didn’t blink once as he slowly undid the buttons holding the overalls and you realized you would have preferred him to keep the helmet on because that meant you wouldn’t notice how passionate and direct his deep brown irises were. You’d expected him to be intense considering how touch-starved and lonely he was, but you never once thought he’d be this vigorous? Ardent? Maker, there wasn’t a single word that could describe the way he was looking at you right now.

Din kneeled at the foot of the bed, waiting until you finally noticed what he was doing and raising your hips before he pulled on the pants of the garment. He slipped your shoes off and finally removed the article of clothing that made his cheeks blush and pants tighten whenever you wore it. He would eventually tell you that this is how you came to him in his dreams almost every night, all spent and sweaty in that gods-forsaken fabric that gave him the perfect view of what you were wearing beneath. 

His focus shifted from your face down your damp skin and he breathed in deeply at the sight of your undergarment. Din almost choked on his breath when your legs parted for a moment, giving him a glimpse of the growing wet patch at the center of the flimsy material.

The Mandalorian wanted nothing more than to worship your body, kiss every part of you and whisper his devotion against your skin as he pleasured you over and over again. He’d spent countless nights imagining what he’d do to you if you were ever naked and willing in his arms and he was damned if he didn’t make sure you were thoroughly spent once he was done with you. He wanted to hear his name fall from your lips and he wanted to swallow your sighs and your moans as he sank into you all night long. And by the gods, he wanted to mark your neck and your arms and your waist, and nothing made him harder than picturing you doing the same to him, biting and nipping at his skin so he could wake up in the morning and watch the evidence of your lo- your touch on him. It didn’t matter that no one else would see those bruises but him and you. He just wanted you, in any way possible, sinking beneath his skin.

And then he heard his voice calling for you over the comm link just outside the room and something snapped deep in his chest. He looked up from you to the open door of his room and listened to the Marshal’s words. Your eyes widened in shock when you saw several emotions pass through Din’s eyes, the most prominent of which was anger, maybe hurt. Of all the times Cobb would ask you to join him for drinks, this was most definitely the worst of them. It didn’t help either that he was laughing over some inappropriate joke one of his friends was saying about your sabacc skills. It wouldn’t be the first time this happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but then Din was clenching his jaw tightly before looking down at you and you knew he wasn’t too happy. In fact, you had a pretty good idea which emotion won out and you hated how much it affected you, how wet you became as thoughts of the Mandalorian claiming you as his flooded your mind.

Before you could try and reason with him, attempt to tell him that it was just a game and that the Marshal’s friends were probably just teasing him, Din was standing up and stripping of his long-sleeve shirt, revealing his perfectly chiseled, bronze skin that had your mouth watering within moments. You noticed the few dozen scars littering his beautiful torso and wished you could kiss each one of them, the old ones and the fairly new ones, until they didn’t sting with pain. But Din had different plans for you and he didn’t give you a chance to question him as he took hold of both of your wrists and slammed them above your head. His hold was painful and it should have scared you how quickly his mood changed but you said nothing, looking into his dilated pupils as his nose flared and he growled at you.

“Keep yours hands there,” Din warns you with a piercing look and you gulp loudly before nodding at him in understanding. He removes his hand and kneels on the bed, eyes narrowing at you before they sought after your most private areas. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He’d given this much thought but now that he was here, he realized it was a more difficult decision than he anticipated. He’d longed to wrap his lips around those hardened peaks always teasing him through the chest band, lick them until you cried for him, perhaps begged him to stop because you were sensitive. But then he continued down the lines of your navel and found your parted legs much more inviting. 

Now that Din knew how you felt, there was no reason for him to feel jealous. But he couldn't stop himself, wanting to be certain that you knew as well as he who you belonged to. He hated himself for having such primitive thoughts about you. You were your own person that much was made clear early on. But he could hope at your words, couldn’t he? He could hope that you were now his, and that he was yours. Maker, he was always yours. He just couldn’t admit it to himself, his heart reluctant at opening up to another. 

Din was lost in thought longer than you liked and you moved your feet towards him, nudging his thigh in hopes of reassuring him that you were right here, in his bed, beneath him and at his mercy. Din’s eyes focused on your again and he looked down at the soft gesture, hands instantly grabbing at your ankles. You jumped at the sudden movement, trying your hardest not to whine at the painful grasp because somewhere deep inside of you, you wanted nothing more than to be marked by him. By his teeth, lips, fingers, any part of him. You didn’t care where you’d bear his touch, you just wanted to see it, touch it in the privacy of the refresher when he wasn’t around. 

Din saw the needy look you were throwing him and he knew that you were willing. Willing to go as far as he wanted, willing to completely submit your body and soul to him, willing to do whatever he wished of you.

Before your eyes could flutter closed, Din was pushing your legs wide open and falling in between them while maintaining his gaze on you. He almost smiled when your stomach shook at how feral he probably looked. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes as his mouth latched onto the wet patch forming on the soft fabric of your undergarment, moaning into your cunt as he savored the taste seeping through. You were surprised by the boldness of the action and wished for him to lick your skin instead. But there was something erotic about the desperation behind his actions, wanting to taste you so much that he didn’t care what he was licking. 

The thought was gone as soon as it appeared because you felt two fingers stretch beneath the waistband right before he ripped it off of your body, shoving the torn fabric in his nose and taking a long whiff of it before humming in approval. Your eyes widened in surprise at the filthiness of his action, hands shaking above you when he threw your panties expertly into his helmet. The thought of knowing that your scent could potentially stick to the inside of his helmet as he walked around twisted your insides and you whined shamelessly at him, wishing he could just take what he wanted. 

“Your sounds belong to me,” Din spoke with a commanding voice as he sank in between your thighs again, his tongue dragging across your folds so deliciously hard until he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva behind. “Your arousal belongs to me,” his hands went to your thighs and he squeezed, knowing fully well there would be bruises dawning your beautiful, smooth body the following morning. Again, you fought to keep your eyes open, wanting to commit every second to memory but finding it difficult to focus on him and not the pleasure zapping down your back. “And I will be damned if this cunt,” Din let go of one of your thighs, pulling his tongue away from your core right before the palm of his hand landed a slap straight on your clit, “doesn’t belong to me either.” You cried out his name, legs shaking violently at the pain shooting through your clit. Din didn’t give you a moment to relax back down on the covers, spanking the outer folds of your pussy twice more consecutively before he replaced the harsh touch with his cooling tongue. Tears trailed down your cheeks as he fucked you with his tongue and lapped at you like you were the only source of water on this gods-forsaken planet. He rotated between soft, quick licks to long, harsh ones, occasionally sucking on your clit and grazing his teeth on the bundle of nerves until he was sure you were going crazy. 

“D-Din oh maker, please. Stop I- slow down.” His touches were far from gentle and the pleasure blurred into pain as you tried to reach that delicious peak you’ve longed for ever since you harbored feelings for the man above you. But he was making it difficult, his needy and erratic movements making it near impossible for you to dive into the lake of pleasure. You should have known that the Mandalorian was as intense in bed as he was in every other aspect of his life. You shut your thighs around his head, wanting to push him away as his teeth continued to graze against your wet folds and nip at the pulsating nub. 

“M-Mando...I can’t.” You couldn’t take it anymore, hands moving to his hair and fisting in the beautiful brown locks as you tried to push him away. As soon as Din felt the tight grasp on his hair, he snarled at you, pushing up on his knees and bending your body along with him until the only thing resting on the bed was your neck and your shoulders. You cried out for him, begging him to give you release but it only drove him mad with lust. His eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away from him as his fingers dug into your butt cheeks and pushed your cunt into his mouth. 

Din pulled away for a split second, biting your inner thighs to grab your attention.

“You will take what I give you ner Cyar’ika.” You saw a hint of darkness in his soulful brown eyes, and shivered at the mere implications of what he had in mind for you. Din sucked and licked at your folds like a crazed man, feeling your legs shaking on his shoulders. He pulled away for a second, and you had no time to beg him to be gentle as he slapped your heated core three times again, hissing when you shut your eyes and bucked against him, your juices drenching his face and chest, leaking down your back as he smiled before taking your cunt into his mouth one last time to prolong your pleasure. You were too busy trying to remain sane to realize what had just happened and Din slowly lowered you back onto the wet covers before letting go of you. You were panting beneath him, stomach fluttering from the force of your release and chest heaving as you tried to fill your lungs with air. 

When you opened your eyes and looked at Din, your eyes widened in horror when you saw his glistening skin, finally realizing what he'd just done to you. You flushed under the scrutiny of Din’s gaze, gasping as he wiped his mouth and jaw with the back of his hand as he looked down and chuckled at the wet spot beneath his knees. You quickly shut your legs and tried to crawl away from him but Din was faster, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back to him, the show of strength already making your cunt clench around nothing again.

“You do not run from me Ad’ika...nor hide from me ever again. I own your body, your skin, the cum still leaking out of this sweet cunt.” His words were filthy and you didn’t know how to react to this new possessiveness he was showing. He pushed open your thighs and fell in between him, bringing his chest flush against yours and kissing the breath out of you, not bothering to be gentle as his fingers twisted and pinched at your nipples. You clawed at his back, wanting more of him but not knowing if you would be able to take any more of what he was offering. 

He pulled away suddenly, his jaw clenching tightly as he took one look at the hands wrapped around his back. 

“Did I not tell you to not move your hands sweet girl?” He whispered against your lips, breathing in the air leaving your lungs as he pecked the corner of your mouth before flipping you over on your stomach. 

“I- I’m sorry...it was just t-too much and-” You couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence, screaming against the covers as you felt Din’s palm land on your ass. You looked back and saw him eyeing your reddening skin, looking up at you and smiling as he treated the other side with the same kindness. Four more times his hands smacked your ass and you were ashamed at how aroused his violent actions made you. When he snuck his fingers in between your thighs and swiped haphazardly at your folds, you moaned and bit into your wrist. 

“Filthy sweet girl,” Din whispered more to himself than you before he fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you flush to his chest, the slide of your dampened back against his sweaty chest bringing him more pleasure than he would have liked to admit because not a few hours ago, he was picturing your sweaty, glistening skin beneath him. And now that he had you here, he was going to make the best of it. 

“Mando, oh Mando-” As much as he loved hearing you scream his nickname in the throws of passion, he wished more to hear his given name fall from your lips. 

“My name...scream my name sweet girl. Let the stars know who pleasures you Cyare.” Din kissed your shoulder before biting into the sweaty flesh, the hand in your hair letting go right before wrapping softly around your throat and pressing you harder against him. Your hands twisted back to try and grab his hair but he immediately took your wrist and twisted it until it was behind you, between your back and his chest. 

“Ahh Din…” You wanted to beg him to allow you to touch him, tell him that you were yearning to touch him as much as he was in need of touching you. But you had a feeling that this wasn’t true, and that this was his way of being certain that you weren’t going to leave him. That you were his. 

If only he knew that you have already belonged to him. Long before tonight.

You felt each breath leave your lungs as Din tightened his grasp around your throat and you parted your lips to moan his name, only to feel his tongue shamelessly licking into your mouth. So distracted by the desperation in this kiss, you didn’t notice the fingers trailing down your chest and digging into your skin until the palm of his hand softly cupped one breast. Din teased you with feather light touches, flicking at one nipple before moving to the other and circling around it until it hardened. He continued to swallow your noises, sucking on your tongue to quiet you as he pinched your nipples. You twisted in his arms, wanting to reach for him again but knowing that he would probably pull your hand away. 

When Din pulled away to allow you to breathe, you panted and finally opened your eyes, not daring to look away as he kept you motionless with his gaze. Din watched as you tried to form a coherent thought, waiting until you parted your lips to speak to him before reaching down and cupping your quivering cunt as he broke the silence.

“This belongs to me,” your breath hitched when Din pressed the palm of his hand against you, not quite applying pressure on your clit but just enough to hold your focus. “Only I get to touch you, kiss you, watch you as you come undone in my arms.” You nodded briefly at him, continuing to hold eye contact as he began to increase his actions. “No one else will ever have you Cyar'ika. No one but me.” He slipped two fingers past your wet folds and rubbed against your walls, humming in approval when he felt you flutter around him the harder he shoved his fingers inside you. 

“I’m yours Din, y-yours. Whatever you want, oh gods please more...need more, Din you make me f-feel so good.” Din keened at your words, curling his hand until his palm was passing deliciously over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace. 

“That’s right sweet girl, you’re mine. Mine to fuck, mine to take whenever I want...mine to-” Din hesitated for a second, unable to voice his heart to you even though you’ve bared your soul for him. “Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum...kriffing gods you’re wet, so wet for me. Come on, cum for me again ner Cyare. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how needy this little cunt is, fuck- I...can’t want to have you wrapped around my cock little one. Can’t wait to sink in this pussy, my sweet tight cunt, mark you with my seed, over and over again...fuck a load in you all night long till you can’t feel anything but my cum dripping down your thighs. Shit, I need you to cum, now!” Your mind became foggy with pleasure, unable to focus on anything but the words whispered into your ears as his thick fingers fucked into you. You grabbed the wrist of the hand wrapped around your throat, digging your nails into his skin as you came around his fingers. You almost fell forwards but Din held you flush against him, continuing to drive his digits into you and rub at your clit with this thumb until you were sobbing in his arms. 

“Beautiful,” Din kissed your shoulder as he slowly inched his hands away from you before laying you down slowly. His eyes took in the flushed, wet skin of your back, chuckling with pride when he saw your legs shaking as little sobs escaped your lips. Your breaths came in shallow and quick, and you tried to silence your whines by biting into your wrists but then you felt Din slide his hand back and forth on your back as he laid next to you and you shivered under his touch because from the way he was moving closer to you and touching you, there was no way he was done just yet. 

“You’re all I think about, every waking moment. It’s difficult to focus on anything else when you’re always in my mind Cyar'ika. I- I burn for you, for your lips to caress mine every moment, your eyes to never leave mine as I brand you, your skin against my own as you mark me with your touch. I- maker, I cannot think of a life without you here, with me…” Din thought he would have to force himself to say such things but he found it remarkably easy now that he had you here, responding so openly and shamelessly to him.

“Din,” you turned your head and shifted towards him, kissing the hand resting between the two of you before leaning your forehead against his and shutting your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, for as long as you’ll have me.” Din ceased all movement at your words and he looked away from where he was stroking your back, meeting your eyes and furrowing his eyebrows before you felt him grab your arm and pull you on top of him. You surprised gasp died in your throat when you felt Din wrap his arms around your back and bring you against him until you could feel his chest hairs tickling your nipples. You could feel his cock jutting against your core through his pants and as you rested your hands on his chest and looked to him, you saw the frown ease from his expression, replaced with something akin to reverence. 

“I will have you until my dying breath Mesh’la. Let me show you how much I want you.” The force of his declaration hit you instantly and you pressed your lips against his just as you felt him rid himself of his pants. Din’s hands were roaming your back and you felt bolder with every caress, combing your fingers into his hair and pulling on it as he squeezed your ass and bucked into you. The growl emanating from his chest shot straight to your core and you raised yourself from him for a moment.

“Din, I want you. Crave to feel you inside me. Please, do it fast and don’t- don’t be gentle. Show me, show me how much you lo- want me.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your words and he wasted no time, taking hold of his cock and teasing your clit with his leaking tip before slowly inching inside you. You shut your eyes and dug your nails into the back of his neck as he continued to sheath his dick deeper in your cunt. You could feel every ridge and pulsating vein dragging against your inner walls, finally allowing your lungs to breathe as you felt him nudge and twitch against that soft, spongy spot in your core. 

Neither of you moved for a few moments, with Din trying to wrap his mind around finally becoming one with you and feeling you clench so sweetly around him. He was torn between fucking up into you without mercy and taking it nice and slow until he pushed you over the edge again. But then you were gyrating your hips and sighing his name on his cheek and he knew what he wanted. 

Planting his feet on the damp covers, Din held you flush against him with one arm while resting his other hand on your thigh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he snapped his hips up before sinking into you again. You let out a surprised sob and rested your forehead against his shoulder, whispering more pleas against his skin and begging him to move. 

The usually quiet man breathed the sweetest wishes in your ears, thrusting up into you with immense force that made you clench tighter around him. “Ni copad gar an te ca'nara Ad’ika, ni vercopa be gar anay ca. You have made a home for yourself inside my heart.” Din felt your shaky breath blow on his neck and it drove him mad with lust because he wanted to have you reacting to his touch so wantonly every minute of every day. His grip only tightened around you and he prayed you wouldn’t mind the bruises that would surely color your skin in the next few hours. He wasn’t planning on being gentle tonight, perhaps later, but not tonight, and he was going to ensure his touch would be visible for anyone that would speak with you tomorrow. Thoughts of the Marshal passed through his mind’s eye and he growled, pumping his cock into you harshly for some reassurance. You cried out his name over and over again, feeling your skin heat up at the declarations of love he was peppering on your skin because even though his words were gentle, his touches were far from it.

The squelching sounds of your cunt flooding Din’s thighs as he drove himself into you should have embarrassed you but you could tell he enjoyed knowing how wet you were for him from the way he continued to quicken the pace just to hear your juices flowing over him. His grip on you was becoming more painful the more you moved against each other but you couldn’t find it in yourself to let him know. He was letting go, showing you how much he wanted you, how hard he was for you, and you weren’t about to make him feel conscious over his affection.

“Maker...oh Din, Din I- you feel so good inside me. Filling me up like no one else. Could feel you so deep, gods, could feel you everywhere Din please- don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, I need it. Need you, want you- want you to mark me, d-do whatever you want with me.” You had no hold over your own speech and weren’t sure if you were making any sense but Din moaned each time you praised him.

“Good girl, sweet girl...taking my cock so well, kriffing hell. Your- your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of me..could feel every tight inch of you stroking my cock Cyar’ika. Ah pfassk...you’re- you’re perfection.” Din moved the hand around your back up to your neck, pulling on your hair and pressing his lips with yours as his cock throbbed inside you. You whined as his tongue roughly swirled around your own, barely able to breathe as he continued to snap his hips against you and suddenly feeling a rush of relief as his navel rubbed at your clit until you came around him. Din broke the kiss, screaming expletives in his tongue as the force of your orgasm pushed his cock out of you. You shuddered as you gushed on his dick, wrapping your arms around his neck when he forced his cock into your tight cunt again. 

You were so overcome with emotions, so lost in Din’s scent mixing with your own, and his touch leaving bruises on your skin, that you didn’t notice the faint sounds of footsteps coming up the ramp and halting in the middle of the ship right in front of the door. But Din noticed, managing to look up just in time to see Cobb standing in the middle of the ship and staring with wide eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him. 

Something completely otherworldly took over the Mandalorian and he quickly sat up, expertly moving the two of you around until he was kneeling on the covers with you straddling his thighs. He smiled against your shoulder, allowing your hair to hide his face as he grabbed both of your hips and fucked up into you. 

He could vaguely see the Marshal and was surprised that he hadn't dropped the bottle of drink in his hand just yet. You wailed into the night air, arms keeping you stead in Din’s arms as he forced you on his pulsating dick over and over again. 

“Tell me...tell me Cyare, tell me how much you love it when I fuck you. How much you need my cock like the filthy little cockslut you are. Go on sweet girl, grind that little clit on me. Fucking tell me ner Ad’ika.” Din smacked your ass twice, chuckling when your moans grew more lewd with every touch he laid on you.

“I- I- ahhh love your cock...oh maker, no one fucks me like you. N-no one makes me c-cum like you. Fuck me harder D- ahhh,” Din bit down on your shoulder to prevent you from saying his name, looking through the mess of your hair and watching as his audience remained incapable of moving. 

“I own this pretty little pussy. Pffassk- ride me harder Mesh’la. You’re such a good girl, could feel your cunt drenching my thighs, the smell of you is driving me mad. Fuck- keep that pretty mouth open to me when I’m fucking you, let me hear you scream for me.”

“Please- please...fuck me harder, ruin my pussy. Gods- I..I’m so close please. Tell me you own me, tell me I’m you’re sweet girl. Please- I want to be good for you, want you to cum inside me Din...cum inside me. I need it, need you to fuck me like you own me and mark me, make me yours Mando. Cum in me, please-” 

“Ah fuck you’re my sweet little girl aren’t you? Wanting me to fuck a load in you, cum in you all night long and keep my seed in that tight cunt? That’s it sweetheart, I’m so fucking hard for you. Could feel you clenching around me...be a good girl and cum again ner kar'ta. Fuck, yes yes you feel so good wrapped around my cock Cyare you’re going to make me cum. Spill my seed in that tight, wet pussy, fill you up till you can taste it in your throat. Shit, and- and I’m going to keep fucking you sweet girl, till my cum is sliding down your thighs. My little fucktoy- come on, come on love, cum for me. Cum on me, drench me again. Mix your juices with me.” Din watched as Cobb finally had the mind to leave and he almost laughed at how the man almost tripped on his own foot as he sprinted out of the ship. He pushed you on your back and spread your thighs open, resting his weight on the arms around your head as he thrust in a few more times before he felt you clench around him. Leaning down, Din took a pert nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, growling into your skin as he came deep in your pussy, painting your walls with long strings of his seed until he couldn’t breathe. He’d never cum this hard before and was sure to tell you when you had the state of mind to pay him any semblance of attention.

Din continued to lazily push into you, your words from earlier replaying in his mind as he felt you quiver around his softening cock. You were still coming down from your high and twitched occasionally when you felt him throb inside you. There was a pleasant kind of warmth washing over you and you sighed happily when you realized he was still bucking against you to push his cum in your belly. 

“D-din...you’re filling me up so good. Feel so full ah- gah.” He laughed when your body shook, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you around until you were laying on his chest. You kissed his jaw and his neck, moaning in unison when you felt his dick rub against that sweet spot inside you. 

“That’s because I’ve never cum this hard sweet girl. You’ve milked me dry Cyare. Could feel you sucking my seed out of me.” He was amazed at your obvious embarrassment, wanting to tease you about it but choosing to wait for later instead.

Din rubbed at your back, kissing your forehead as he whispered sweet things in your ears and smiling when you nipped at his neck some more. 

“Promise me you’ll never leave.” Din’s quiet voice broke the silence and you pushed up to look into his eyes as you responded. “I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to go. I’ll stay here, always. I promise.” You kissed him gently and felt his pulse beneath your fingers calm at your words. 

Not much time has passed before Din had you on your knees in front of him, fucking your mouth and shoving you down on his cock until you gagged and his seed slipped from the corner of your mouth, mixing with your spit as it fell down your breasts. You lost count of how many times he brought you pleasure, and you made a mental note to ask him how he managed to fuck you all night long. You weren’t sure it was possible for a man to cum this many times over the course of one night but you had a feeling Din was not like anyone else. A man who has been touch starved for almost three decades must have had a lot of pent-up aggression that he needed to release. And you would gladly help him in any shape or form through that. 

And when he wasn’t pumping your cunt full of his cum, he was nuzzling into your neck and laying kisses across your arms, making sure he caressed every inch of your skin. You shouldn’t have been surprised that Din loved to snuggle with you but you did find it hilarious that such a big and scary Mandalorian whimpered when you licked down his neck as you nestled into his arms. You wouldn’t tell him just yet but besides his rough grasps and his filthy words, you loved to taste the saltiness of his skin and from the looks of it, the feelings were mutual because at some point in the night, he’d told you of all the times he had to lock himself up in the refresher and try his hardest to not think of your sweaty limbs entangling with his own as he kissed you.

By the time the two of you made it outside the following day, the twin suns had already been in the middle of the sky, scorching rays of heat on everyone across Mos Pelgo. You tried your hardest not to walk too funny, mostly because it made Din apologize every now and then, but it was difficult when you could still feel traces of his touch on you. You told him you needed him to stop making it obvious but realized he was apologizing out of regret not out of humor. It took you all of the afternoon to convince him that you were feeling more than okay and that you’d asked him for this. And when he didn’t seem to stop, you teased him and told him that you knew he secretly loved watching you wobble from side to side. 

This all, however, peaked when you walked into the cantina and tried to play Sabbac with Cobb Vanth and the others. You could tell that the Marshal was avoiding all conversation with you, going out of his way to pretend you weren’t even sitting on the table, let alone the room. You hoped that Mando hadn’t spoken with him or anything and decided to call it quits earlier in the night. When you did make it back to the ship and saw Din cleaning his weapons, you made sure the ship was secure before moving to sit on the bed across from him.

“Did you talk to Cobb today?” You gauged his reaction, already sensing that something was wrong when you saw him nervously clench his jaw before rubbing furiously at the beskar weapon.

“No, why do you ask?” Din wished he hadn’t already taken off his helmet because as soon as he responded, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

“Din?”

He looked up at you and cleared his throat before speaking.

“He- he saw us...last night. I- I must have forgotten to raise the ramp and-” Din took a deep breath when you shot up from the cot and began to pace back and forth. 

“HE WHAT?”

“We were...I couldn’t- there wasn’t a chance I could…you felt too good around me Ad’ika I- I couldn’t stop. Not when you were clenching around me so tightly. Now when you were finally in my arms. I-” He stood up and walked towards you, taking your hands into his and kissing both of your wrists. You flushed at his words and looked up at him, only to find him blushing under your gaze. 

“You did it on purpose didn't you? You wanted him to see...to watch as you- as we...as I said-” Din didn’t let you finish the sentence, leaning down and molding his lips with yours as he walked you back to his bed. He pushed you down on the covers still holding your scents, his hold hardening the more you moaned against him. Before he could strip you of your clothes, you pushed him off and stuck out your finger in warning.

“Oh no you don’t. Go raise the ramp.”

“You’re giving me orders now Mesh’la?” Din raised an eyebrow at you as he got off of you and walked around the bed, halting at the doorstep to look back at you.

“Never…”

Translations:

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - my/mine

Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum - mine to love

Ni copad gar an te ca'nara - I want you all the time.

Ni vercopa be gar anay ca - I dream of you every night. 

Ner kar'ta - my heart

#The Mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian smut #mando x reader #Mando smut #Mando fanfiction #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin smut #Din Djarin fanfiction #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #star wars #star wars fanfiction #baby yoda #grogu

[sukirichi]

— hands to myself (nanami kento x reader)

pov: you miss nanami too much that you can’t keep your hands to yourself

content/warnings: nsfw, voyeurism, masturbation, spanking, multiple orgasms, daddy kink, sugar daddy nanami, unedited fic

inspo: hands to myself by selena gomez

note: i can’t get sugar daddy nanami out of my head my brain goes brr brr PLEASE SEND ME THIRSTY ASKS ABOUT NANAMI 

@unabashednightmarepizza​ and @noritoshiikamo​ asdgjkl here we goooo i guess 

masterlist !

the penthouse felt so lonely without nanami.

he’s been working so hard, staying overtime and coming home just as you’re already buried in the sheets. nanami would slither in as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the peaceful slumber of his baby girl, but what he doesn’t know is that you don’t mind waking up, just to see and feel him before he leaves for work again the next morning.

right before the sun rises, nanami’s already left. in your dazed state, you’re sure you felt him kissing your forehead before the doors close with a soft click, leaving you alone all over again.

you know he doesn’t mean it, you know he doesn’t want to leave you – but nanami is a hero and he has a duty to the people of this world to exorcise curses to bring a safer environment for everyone. truly, you admire him for this, sometimes a little too much that you might even fall in love with the rigid and stoic man who doesn’t smile.

still, you can’t help but to miss him.

ever since you became his baby girl, life has been easy. even though nanami wasn’t around all the time, he made it up by leaving his credit card to you, assuring you that you were free to get what you wanted. out of boredom, you’d go to the upstate and use his car to drive around the hills, arms heavy with shopping bags.

you’re not selfish, of course, you always make sure to bring him a little gift too. whether it came in the form of buying a new necktie for him – which he always wore to work proudly – or donning your body in lacy, white lingerie that has nanami losing control and worshipping your body until you’re screaming his name with a dried throat, you never forget to leave a little something for him.

sometimes you wish you could tell him you don’t really want the money. you’re thankful he’s more than generous to help you pay for college fees in return of you being his sweet baby girl, but you don’t need the Gucci or prada if he’s not going to be around.

you wanted nanami more than anything else, missed him more than anyone else.

your room feels so empty without him. his scent still lingers in your sheets because he’d rather sleep with you than stay in his own room, only using said room for showering and getting ready for work.

a lightbulb shines above your head. throwing your iphone to the side, you run to his room and open the cabinets one by one. nanami was as organized with his surroundings as he was with himself. his closet is an impressive collection of dark blue button-ups, nude slacks, and his iconic nude suit jacket. they’re all of the same brand and size, and you laugh because only nanami would buy the same thing over and over again.

at the end though, your gaze lands on a rare collection of white button ups, neckties neatly rolled and tucked at the glossy marbled drawers in front of the closet. already, you feel your heartbeat picking up as your hands touched the soft cotton material, nose slowly rubbing and burying into his shirt.

it even smells like him.

your movements are swift. previous shirt discarded on the floor, your arms loop inside the sleeves, tying up just until the undersides of your breasts before you pick out your favourite tie for him, a satin black one that always made him look delectable for dinner parties.

nanami rarely wore those, but when he did, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself. the last time he brought you with him for a birthday ball of his friend, nanami wore this exact black tie paired with the traditional fitted, three piece suit. you remember how needy you were for him that night, little fists clenched at his dress shirt and nanami lowly scolding you to behave.

but you were so desperate to touch him – how could you not when he was so damn irresistible – that he felt bad for his baby girl. long story short, you and nanami left early for the party, with your pussy bouncing up and down his thick pole while nanami glared at the limousine driver to keep his eyes on the road, large, calloused hands possessively gripping the flesh of your ass.

you missed him so much you might go crazy.

grabbing the nearest bottle of his perfume, you spritz it into the air, leaning forwards so that you’d get his scent all over you. it somehow felt as if you were coating yourself in his name, claiming and branding yourself as his even without him in the vicinity.

that’s how much you wanted him, and you don’t stop rubbing his perfume along the pads of your wrist until you can’t smell yourself anymore. your legs are accentuated by the black suede pumps you strutted around the penthouse with, lips tainted red from the wine he kept in his precious little cellar – which was also a spot in the house you both fucked at during that time nanami wanted to taste you on his lips.

he pushed you next to the glass borders then, spreading your legs open until you’re absolutely bare of him. the memory of nanami burying his warm tongue in you has you rubbing your thighs together, your black lace panties already damp with arousal.

you won’t touch yourself, though. that’s one of the rules nanami placed the moment he agreed to be your sugar daddy: you couldn’t, under any circumstance, touch yourself without his permission.

sighing, you trudged back to his bedroom again and sat your ass on his silver desk, legs swinging below you as you stared out into the night city.

nanami likes his room dark, that even though he’s got a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, he almost never opens it. only the bright light from the opened closet is what illuminates your silhouette as you watch the skyscrapers twinkle from afar, the people bustling on the streets looking like ants from this height. it was perfect – the night looked so beautiful and the ambience so romantic with soft, classical music playing from the AI speakers – but nanami isn’t here.

he wouldn’t come home early either. you could already tell how stressed he’d be because gojo satoru always makes him work overtime.

for now, you just had to enjoy your own presence, replacing nanami’s heat and love with his perfume and clothes. his shirt is absolutely baggy on you, the ends of it falling on top of your thighs. your breasts nearly swells out from the tight cups of your bra and the fat of your thighs clumped underneath the straps of your stockings.

you’ve sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. it sounds selfish, but you wished that nanami would come home early and pay attention to you. surely, gojo satoru would be more than fine handling the curses himself for just today.

unable to help it, your head fell back on the transparent glass windows of his room, fingers snaking under his shirt. instinctively, your legs opened, a breathy sigh falling from your glossy red lips as you slipped a finger in. it’s not as big or as thick as nanami’s, and your hands are way too soft compared to the scraping sensation his calloused fingers gave whenever he fingered your pretty little pussy.

it’s nothing compared to what nanami can make you feel, but it should be enough, for now.

your head falls back as your heel lands on his desk, nearly grazing the precious smooth top of his table. you have a feeling nanami is going to punish you once he sees the slight scrapes of your stiletto against it, but who cares? at this point, you’re willing to pull off the stupidest things just to get his attention, just to get him to fuck you.

“nanami,” you moan around the second finger, your other hand spreading your legs open. you’re so horny that you don’t bother taking your panties off anymore, the material flushed with the slick of your own arousal that it’s heavily damp. “daddy, i miss you,” eyes shut tight, you fondle with the sensitive nub of your clit, pumping yourself slowly as you imagine that it’s nanami making you feel good this time.

you know you’re being a bad girl, that you’re being an absolute brat. not only did you break the rule that you’re not allowed to touch yourself exactly after you convinced yourself you wouldn’t, but you’re leaking right at his desk, heels grazing into the smooth material.

if nanami were to see, he wouldn’t forgive you.

he would break you.

if it was a punishment, then why do you enjoy the idea of it? why are you so enticed, so excited, so eager to have your daddy use you like a fucktoy? your lashes flutter against your cheeks, hips bucking into your cupped palm as your belly begins to tighten. “b-break me, daddy, please, nanami-”

“what do you think you’re doing?”

you freeze.

tentatively, you crack an eye open, swallowing audibly when nanami stands at the edge of his door, his glasses already removed. now that his beautiful blue eyes aren’t obscured by anything, you’re met with the intense heat of his gaze, nearly burning like wild fire. you glance down at your fingers buried in your pussy and gulp, pulling them out with a loud shlick. you were so wet at just the thought of him, so stupid to even want to be punished, but now your spine freezes when nanami struts to your way.

his hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “i asked you a question,” his low, baritone voice has you clenching around nothing, throat tight out of nervousness. “i said, what do you think you’re doing?”

“i-i’m sorry, daddy,” you duck your head down, lips red and trembling. “i just missed you so much and i got so horny-”

“so you thought it was okay to touch yourself? even after i’ve made it clear i don’t want you doing that?”

“i’m so sorry-”

nanami doesn’t give you a chance to speak before his lips crash into yours, his tongue effortlessly slipping inside to swipe over your teeth. you gasp in his mouth when his large hands cup your ass and haul your weight off the desk, legs wrapped around his waist. nanami slaps it, making the flesh bounce and gripping it tightly with a firm squeeze. you’re pretty sure you’d turn completely red and marked by the end of this, but you don’t care, fuck, you don’t fucking care – nanami’s here and that’s all you care about.

you kiss him back just as eagerly, arms around his neck as he carries you like you weigh nothing. nanami groans when your teeth nibble on his lips, eager and needy hands unbuttoning his shirt. his hard pecs and abs greet you like a present you couldn’t wait to unwrap, and you’re both breathing hard by the time you pull away.

“are those my clothes?” he snaps the strap of your bra under his shirt, eyes narrowed over the way you look terrifyingly small in his shirt. you nod, breasts rising up and down, tempting him to reach over and squeeze it. your back arches at his touch, his ministrations missed and needed. no, you craved it. he’s been gone too long you’re not sure you could take it anymore, and you hiss when nanami buries his sharp nose in the juncture of your neck, the front of his pants damp and coated with your exposed wet cunt. “and you’re wearing my perfume too.”

“y-yes.”

“tell me, baby,” nanami sets you down on your feet. your legs are a little wobbly from the heels and with desire burning in your stomach. he steadies you by placing a hand under your armpit, and you lean forward to kiss him one more time. nanami tsks and shoves you backwards, cheek sliding across the glass. “why did you go to my room without my permission? why did you touch yourself when i told you not to? do you want to be punished?”

your cheek stings from the impact of your skin hitting the glass, but your mind is too clouded with lust you can’t really focus on his words. wiggling your ass to press against his erection, you beg for him, hands looking for the comfort of his skin.

nanami slaps your ass and hand away to shut you up, and you fall forwards with a muffled cry. “answer me when i ask you a question, baby girl. i’m not always going to be this nice.”

“daddy, i-i just missed you so much, i couldn’t help it.”

“you missed me?” you hear his belt unbuckling behind you, your ass perking up in excitement. fuck, you just wanted him to pound into you already. but nanami’s always too patient, always controlled in everything he does, that you’re laying there shaking with your pussy dripping for him. finally, fucking finally, you feel his cock enter you inch by delicious inch, and you moan at the same time nanami groans at burying himself deep within you. “my stupid silly baby can never keep her hands to herself, huh?”

“no, daddy, i want you too much, i just miss you so bad.”

“you do?” he teases, rolling his hips languidly. his pace is so slow and teasing that you’re whining for him to go faster, but nanami only shakes his head. before you could fathom the way nanami’s eyes darken, he leans forward, hitting deeper than he did before. your moans are so breathy that you start fogging up the glass, and nanami rubs your swollen clit before using his hands to squish your cheeks. he forces you to follow his gaze, voice low and almost growling. “if you miss daddy so much, then show it to them. show them how good i’m making you feel. come on, baby girl, i know you can do it. you’ll do it for me won’t you?”

realization dawns you the moment nanami pushes your body further in the glass, your breasts squished and flattened against the cool surface. “d-daddy,” you gasp, tightening around him once you see that the overtime workers from the office parallel to his penthouse are now witnessing the way nanami rams his cock into you like a wild animal. “they’re, ah, watching.”

“i know, baby, i know,” nanami loosens his necktie around your neck, snatching it and tying it around your wrists instead. “let these people know you’re mine – that you’re my baby girl and no one else’s okay?”

hands bound behind your back and nanami’s thick cock thrusting roughly into you, you’re unable to move or even think straight. you just nod mindlessly as nanami keeps fucking into you, hands gently pressing down your throat. his dick keeps rubbing against your most sensitive spots and you’re shaking underneath him, your arousal heightened when you saw several of the office workers have already pulled out their cocks and stroked it at the sight of you dripping onto nanami’s black marble floors.

nanami doesn’t stop praising on how much you’re a good girl for him. now that his cock is buried within you, he’s already forgotten that you’ve broken his precious rule.

you don’t complain, though. how could you when he has you screaming his name, your makeup and sweat leaving a figure the shape of body plastered on his glass walls? you’re sure his housekeeper is going to be so angry at the both of you for leaving cum stains everywhere, but you and nanami have forgotten all about it.

it seems he misses you just as much because nanami doesn’t stop fucking you until you’re full of his cum, breasts swollen and aching from being pressed into the wall for so long.

an hour passed – maybe two – you’ve lost count from the amount of times nanami has made you cum. your legs are giving out beneath you and your latest lingerie set is broken, comforted only by the promise that he’s going to get you good one. you’re absolutely lost in the pleasure of nanami driving his cock impossible deep into you all the way until morning, body spent and shaking from all the orgasms.

fucked out and whining, nanami litters kisses all over your body to soothe you a little bit, but he doesn’t stop. and the truth is, you don’t want him to, either. legs wrapped around his waist and heels digging into his ass, nanami finally tangles his hands into yours as he pistons his cock in and out of your squelching pussy.

he’s giving you his all, and you can’t keep your hands to yourself no matter how hard you’re trying to, not when nanami is prowling into you as you’re spread underneath him before he goes gentle, almost as if making love to you.

well, you could, but why would you want to?

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento x reader smut #kento nanami x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader imagines #nanami x reader imagines #nanami kento imagines #kento nanami x reader imagines #kento nanami imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Dark Shenanigans - Nandor x (f)reader

Summary: It’s Nadja’s something hundredth birthday, with that said, you’re on a mission to make it great.

Warning: fluff, general vampire nonsense

Masterlist

“Yeah being a half vampire half human does have its perks. I mean for one I can do all that cool vampire shit and I can go out in the sunlight...so that helps for when they’re all being really annoying.” You admit with a casual shrug to one of the documentary cameras before turning to an isle of party supplies. “So anyways we’re at this store.”

The camera shifts to the multiple arras of supplies and materials at the local supermarket in Staten Island that you and your vampire lover’s human familiar, Guillermo, currently are. Specifically on the hunt for birthday decorations for Nadja and ghost Nadja who’s possessed a strange looking doll for the time being.

Since the other four actual full vampires can’t shop for themselves at this time of day or really in general, you and Guillermo have been given such an honorable task in making Nadja’s birthday the best one yet. Considering she’s the most well balanced in the head out of the four of them and is the only other lady of the manor.

“Hey Y/N, how’s this look?” Wonders Guillermo as he holds up a bunch of Mardi Gras beads of yellows, purples, and greens. “Comments, questions, concerns?” He adds with a small smile.

Eyeing up the beads, your head shifts over to the other various colors, “Hrmm, G I’m feeling the vibe you’re going for this year and I like it, but let’s go with Nadja colors.”

Guillermo’s dark eyes light up at your positive suggestion, “Right! So the red and black ones then?”

“Yup. She’ll love that shit.” You state with a satisfied nod of approval, “Let’s get some black and gold confetti from over there and oh, those masquerade masks look cool as fuck.”

You pick up and test out various masks in the background as Guillermo adds some bits of dialogue for the documentary crew, “Um yeah she’s really cool isn’t she.” He says with a smile while glancing at you then back to the camera, “Which is kind of odd since Y/N’s been with Nandor since 1793 so you’d think she’d be a little more like them but no, she’s super chill and really nice.” Suddenly his face goes a bit serious as he leans in to whisper, “But she did kill a whole street gang once when they threw a slur at me so I wouldn’t mess with her. For your safety.”

The camera pans back over to an oblivious you who’s put on a masquerade mask and is swinging a plastic light saber around with a whole lot more accuracy and grace then would a normal person. The camera then pans back to Gullimero, “Um, I’m just gonna....make sure she doesn’t smack anyone.”

——

Arms full of groceries of food for you and Gullimero, as well as random party decorations for Nadja’s birthday tomorrow night, you use the bottom of your boot to skillfully open the door as the documentary crew and Guillermo follows suit. Guillermo now on the verge of falling over with the large heart shaped pillow in his arms that’s covering most of his body.

You don’t feel tired in the slightest due to your half vampiric abilities so this is nothing to you, “Alright.” You state, turning on your heel to face the crew and Guillermo, “They’re asleep so we gotta be extra sneaky now, I don’t want Nadja catching us with all this cool spooky birthday shit. Everyone to the attic!” You whisper yell before leading the charge to the attic.

They all follow as quietly and as quickly as they can and then soon enough in no time are you and Guillermo back outside in the sunny garden trying to figure out if you should blow up the giant sea monster pool floaty.

“I mean it would look cool as hell and no doubt out-do whatever the fuck boring thing Lazlo probably has planned.” You quip with a shrug while the two of you stare thoughtfully at the small gloomy dark pond. “He’s got no chance with us. I’ve won best decorator and card maker for two hundred years in a row.”

Guillermo side eyes you in honest amazement, “Wow that’s a lot of years. And cards.”

“I know. I was an artist in the 12th century but my no good terrible good for nothing piece of garbage trash sexist human husband, who I was forced to marry when I was only sixteen, took all the credit for my artwork in that era.” You confirm with a growl, “But it stings less because once I finally grew into my powers and strength at eighteen I simply made his untimely demise look like an accident.” You add with a smirk.

“Oh, wow.” Mutters the intrigued familiar.

“Precisely. The old fool was thrown off his horse because I told Philip, the horse, to throw him off. And he did. Which killed the idiot so I got the house and all of his money.”

“That’s......neat.” Mutters Guillermo as he shoots the camera crew from behind you and him a nervous look. “Uh the suns going down so I should probably help Nandor out of his coffin.”

Raising your head to the sky you immediately see how the sun has begun to paint the clouds in beautiful colors of oranges, reds, light pinks, and darkening purples. “Oh, how bout that. Yeah alright let’s get inside.” You nod to Guillermo before turning to walk towards the manor’s giant mahogany doors.

——

Turning the handle and walking a couple feet into the large main room that holds itself as a sort of crossroads for all the other various connecting hallways and staircases. You don’t make it even three more steps towards the left ascending staircase before you hear the highly recognizable voice of your one and only.

“Y/N! My lovely wife and favorite person still ever so lovely!” Announces Nandor loudly with a grand smile showing off his pearly white fangs, “How I have missed you and your morning kisses. Where have you been off to?” He wonders softly as you smile a big dumb love-struck grin right back up at him, you’d absolutely die to hear that accent one last time.

“I can’t tell you right now it’s a secret!” You whisper yell back, causing his thick dark brows to scrunch up in confusion.

“But I am your lovely strong puff dragon Y/N.” Whines Nandor adorably as you roll your eyes at the cameras before looking back up at him.

“Fine. Come here then.”

In an instant he’s at your side, excitedly awaiting what secretive news you will tell him, “Okay, so we know it’s Nadja’s birthday tomorrow right?”

“Yes. I remember because she hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Right. So me and Gullimero got some fun surprise birthday party decorations and they’re in the attic and we can’t tell Nadja.”

Nandor gives you a knowing look of affirmation as he leans in closer to you, his demeanor suddenly shifting into a more saddened one, “You went shopping without me?” He says quietly.

Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek your hands instantly find his, “Just for a little while, but I still need to find more stuff so....you wanna come?”

Nandor’s big dark eyes light up with joy as you hand him a kind smile, “Yes! Let us go in search of unknown treasures for our lady friend Nadja so she will not be mad at us for terrible dull gifts of friendship.”

Laughing you give his hands a playful squeeze, “Come on I’ll race you to Party City!” You say before leading him past the camera crew and Guillermo who simply watches the two of you leave, glad to have an hour of peace.

“There’s a whole city for partying? Y/N why have we never been to this place?”

——

“Y/N there are no people partying here.” Whines your vampire lover in puzzlement as he follows you from the entrance to a side isle. “You said this was a city for partying.”

“That’s just the name of the store Nans.” You retort with a small chuckle as he looks from right to left at all the color coded party plates and napkins galore.

“Well the title is very misleading.”

“Agreed.”

Turning to the right you guide him towards the decretory pirate themed isle in search of something that will peak his interest. Also you wanted so badly to make it to this spot but Gullimero was a man on a mission so your intention was thwarted for when you had Nandor with you.

Speed walking down the pirate themed isle you quickly halt all movement as Nandor’s large body stops within less than an inch from your back. Smiling brightly you snatch the desired object in front of you and as swift as a cat turn to face him.

“Have you come for a dual my old enemy?” You speak slyly, eyes narrowed as you hold the foam sword right in front of his face. “I sense a nervousness about you. Tell me, are you ready to face your inevitable bloody end?”

Staring at the pointy foam, his dark puppy eyes shift over to you as an adorable fangy grin breaks out across his pale face, “Seems you have come prepared, oh radiant and alluring seductress. Well, so have I!” Shouts Nandor before grabbing two foam swords from off the rack and swinging them in both hands like a mad man.

Taking a cautious step back you hold your pathetic five dollar sword in both hands like a true warrior ready for battle, “Only one shall leave this place alive.” You affirm with a smirk, “And it’s not going to be you.”

“Arrrrrggg.” Bellows your lover as he charges you like the true conqueror that he once was. But all to soon do you swiftly duck under his arms and swat him over his stomach with a confident thwack sound.

He makes a puny little “oww” as you turn around to face him once again, “Y/N you hit me kind of hard.” He complains, looking rather defeated and genuinely hurt that you could have intentionally injured him on purpose.

Bringing the plastic weapon down to your side once again, your face suddenly softens as you walk over to him, “Come here you big baby.” You quip sincerely as he leans down so you can give his cheek a quick kiss.

Rising back to his full height, Nandor almost blushes as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a happy smile, “Actually it didn’t hurt at all I just wanted you to kiss me.” Reveals the vampire with a proud grin as you simply roll your eyes.

“Should have known.” You add before turning and snatching up four more plastic foam pirate swords for the others. “Alright let’s get outta here, follow me my love, to the checkout line we shall purchase our weapons of war and partying on the high seas.” You announce with gusto as Nandor stands proudly at your side, ready to follow you anywhere.

“Yes. To check out.”

——

Kicking open the unlocked door, Nandor bursts into the vampire residence with bags full of goodies for Nadja’s birthday party. You right behind him but less dramatically, “We’re back!” You shout to no one in particular as Colin Robinson suddenly appears from out of nowhere, looking ready to leave with his funny little hat and usual beige jacket.

“Oh hey guys,” He starts with a friendly nod, “I’m just heading out on the town tonight. I guess there’s a fair or something in the park and I wanted to test my skill at the ball toss. I’ve been reading up on the body mechanics and how the game is set up which seems pretty basic all in all. Also I really want to win a stuffed bear this time, it might add a little pizazz to my room. Welp see ya’round.” Adds Colin before walking past the two of you without another word and out into the night he goes with some of the camera crew following close behind.

Nandor turns to you with a look of annoyance, “Jeesh I thought he would never leave. Let’s go to your room I want to kiss you some more now.”

“Why my room?”

“Because since you are half vampire you get to sleep in a bed and because I am a full vampire I sleep in a coffin.” Inquires Nandor while looking at you with those big beautiful dark eyes of his, “And my coffin is too small for cuddles so your room will suffice.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point.” You shrug before following him to your room.

After many cuddles leading to other more rated R type activities that lasted until just about sunrise, you finally got some well needed rest while the sun shone high in the sky until she began her dramatic descend back into oblivion. Opening your eyes you slowly rise from out of your comfy bed, already missing the presence of your obsidian eyed lover.

He gets too nervous about your closed windows for fear that the sun might burn him which would be impossible because you black out the glass. But alas, he’s very cautious about these types of things and won’t risk it for anything, though he feels bad about leaving you in the morning, you understand.

Suddenly it dawns on you that today or perhaps tonight, is Nadja’s birthday and you completely forgot to set up any decorations. Shit, how stupid. Throwing the blankets off of you, your feet move quick as you speedily change yesterday’s outfit for something a bit nicer and more clean.

Racing out of your room and into the dimly lit manor hallway, you make a bee line for the attic but before you’re able to reach the steps, Guillermo runs into you, just about knocking you into a wall of various stolen ancient weapons. Sharp ones at that.

That was close.

“Y/N are you okay!” Worries the familiar as you quickly gather your bearings.

“Guillermo! The decorations! Nadja’s birthday!” You whisper yell as the human man simply smiles. “Why are you smiling, this situation does not call for smiles.”

“Don’t worry. While you were sleeping I set up all the decorations.” He replies with a shrug, “No problem.”

“What? But that must have taken you all day, you could have asked me for help. I would have come.” Your brows furrow as he shakes his head, though you still feel bad for not helping with anything.

“Well I did try, but um,” Gullimero awkwardly clears his throat, giving the camera a quick glance, “Nandor was with you and last time I asked for you while you and him where having alone time he threatened to carve out my eyeballs and force feed them to me.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance you take a deep breath, “Sounds like him. Very creative when he wants to be, alright, well....where’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re not up yet. I was actually on my way to get you. I made blood popsicles and the pool floaty is all done and in the pond.” He says with a sense of pride for his decorating skills. “I think she’ll like what we’ve come up with this year.”

-

Standing in the living room with your three fellow immortals you search a dresser for her card, “Oh shit where’s my card? I could have sworn I had it yesterday on my dresser but I don’t remember seeing it there in the morning. Maybe it’s in this one?”

“Witches!” Hisses Nadja as you huff in frustration, where the hell did you put that damn card?

“Oh, Y/N my love,” Intervenes Nandor with a gentle tug of your sleeve, “I took it with me when I left your room before sunrise because I wanted to put my name on it too so she would know it’s from us.”

“What?” Replies Lazlo dramatically, “Now hold on just a damn minute, this card competition is individually scored so I won’t be having any of this nonsense. I worked really hard on mine this year.”

“Oh lick a donkey’s arse, look here,” You retort with, quickly holding up the card for Nadja, “there are two separate drawings on ours so either way if one of us wins she gets both our pictures. So you better hope your drawing doesn’t resemble a night clubs bathroom wall.”

“Yeah.” Mutters Nandor, who’s hiding behind you while resting both hands on either one of your shoulders as you glare at Lazlo.

“Fine.” Agrees Lazlo begrudgingly, “And mine will be amazing, this bitch of paper took me a whole six months to plan and produce. Can’t get quality this good anywhere else I guarantee it.” Adds Lazlo with a firm nod of self approval as you glance at the nearby camera.

“Right, okay everyone sit it’s time for presents. I want to know what you all got me.” Beams Nadja excitedly as she smiles a fangy grin in delight, plopping herself down in one of the arm chairs. Lazlo quickly finding the other one while you and Nandor seat yourself on the large couch. Colin and Guillermo finding somewhere to sit close by respectfully.

“Well, all I can say is hold onto your socks my dear cause this is going to blow you away.” Smirks Lazlo as he pulls a small box from out of his jacket pocket.

“If it’s a self made business card that says invitation to sexy town I will puke.” You deadpan while Nandor laughs from beside you, causing Lazlo to lose his smirk as Nadja hides her amusement the best she can manage.

“He he, sexy town, nice one Y/N.” Mutters Nandor with a proud grin as you raise a brow at Lazlo who’s giving you a hard glare.

“Oh, my dear pumpkin pie love, don’t listen to Y/N I will love anything you gift me.” Encourages Nadja with a bright welcoming smile, no doubt immediately boosting Lazlo’s once irked mood.

Rolling your eyes you shift a bit to find yourself leaning into Nandor’s body as Nadja opens up the rest of the vampire residents various gifts. A joyous fangy smile gracing her pale features every single time, revealing this birthday party was a thrilling success.

After much more fun that just about lasts throughout the whole night, and some rare but hilarious attempts at dancing between the five of you vampiric individuals. You’re feeling rather sleepy and you can tell Nandor is ready for a trip to dreamland as well.

Swaying to the lowly playing record instrumental, you hold Nandor tight while simultaneously enjoying the feeling of him so close, him doing just the same as he keeps you firmly pressed against his chest. His long dark hair tickles your face as he presses his head to your cheek, doing his absolute best to keep the flow without tripping up.

Sensing his growing fatigue, you gently squeeze his hand, “My love the sun will be up soon, let’s get you to bed, yes?”

A small lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he looks down to meet your gaze, “But my dark angel I’m not tired. I want to dance with you a little longer.” He whines adorably before failing to conceal a big yawn.

Giggling, you lean back to slowly lead him towards the door, “That yawn says otherwise.”

“That wasn’t a yawn Y/N, I was just smiling really big.” He protests, though he still follows your lead to the door.

“I’ve never seen anyone smile like that.” You add with a raised brow.

“Well maybe that’s just how I smile.”

Letting out a breathy snort, you pull away from him to at last take his one hand, “Come. I can’t have a single ray of that dreaded sun to get a taste of your precious skin. Not on my watch.”

Glancing at the closed front door, Nandor squeezes your hand, “Well um, now since you’ve mentioned the sun...I think I’d like to go to my crypt now.” He says, the flash of worry crossing over his face for only a brief moment.

“You sure? I mean a sunrise is pretty beautiful if I’m being honest and I know you never get to see them...”

“Not funny Y/N. And not fair, you know I can’t because I am full vampire.”

“And you’re missing out.”

“And I’d like to stay alive Y/N.”

“Aren’t you dead?”

“Yes and I am your only husband so I need to stay not burnt to a crisp.”

Chuckling, you follow him down the hallway, “Oh really? Don’t want me finding myself with another vampiric lover? Some new beast to sweep me off my feet and take me away into the night.” You tease.

Side eyeing you, he frowns, “No. Don’t I sweep you off your feet?”

Stepping into his crypt you stop him with your hand against his bicep, “Always.” You whisper sincerely with a quick wink, causing him to break out into a big fangy grin.

“Good. And if anyone would try and whoo you I would make sure there would be no more whooing again!” Exclaims Nandor, making the candles rise in flame for only a short second at his rise in emotion for how much he loves you.

“I don’t doubt they would fall by your blade. Not for a second.”

#nandor the relentless #Nandor x reader #nandor x you #nandor x y/n #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows x reader #vampire fun yeah #love my big huggable vampire #:)

[soulmate-game]

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman @deathssilentapproach-blog @user00000003 @frieddonutsweets @blur-of-colours @prettylittlebutterflie @ladyqnoirr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mizzy-pop @laurcad123 @dorkus-minimus @chocolatecatstheron @tazanna-blythe @golden-promises @literaryhiraeth @asrainterstellar @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @miraculous-trinity-leo @missanalysis @lovelyautumnsunflower @lolieg @ann0631 @whitetiger1249 @meow-now @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damimari #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom harley quinn #eventual daminette #probably #daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #platonic dickinette #platonic brucinette #Joker can choke on a cactus

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Sole Breaks Down

Request: “Could I ask for companions comforting a sole that’s usually an emotional rock, that they hadn’t seen this vulnerable ever? Like they come back from being away and just crumble into a sobbing mess. Pretty please?”

Note: *bangs spoon against pot* come get the hurt/comfort. CW: Mentions of unnamed characters deaths.

The setting:

Upon Preston’s request, Sole took off to a distant settlement to reorganize their resources, set up defenses, and bring them into the trade route. These excursions usually took about a week or two, so Sole could make sure they were fully stable before returning to Sanctuary to attend to their other duties. With this trip, however, they requested their companion stay in Sanctuary; they could handle this on their own, and the companion deserved a break.

Two weeks later, Sole returns, shoulders weighed down by their pack, ladened with goods the settlers had insisted they take with them. It had been a tough week, though that wasn’t really a new thing in Sole’s book, or anyone’s, really. Unfortunately, Sole hadn’t been able to predict the fact that some sort of disease would run through the tiny settlement while they were there, taking several of the members with it as it left.

They scrubbed at their skin in a nearby body of water every morning of those two weeks, rubbed raw and pink as a result of Sole’s quietly hysterical distress. They wanted no trace of settlement on them. There were elements of guilt in their relief to return home, but with returning home came the fact that they were safe enough to reflect on their weeks away from Sanctuary. There seemed to be no hiding from what had happened.

Sole got through the main street of Sanctuary well enough, sending nods to passing settlers, with a brief stop to drop off some of the food they had brought back with them with their local merchant; he would give it away to those that dropped in throughout the day. Once they made it down the road and to the entrance of their home, they felt the dam break. Their hands shook as they pulled the door open and moved inside, doing their best to ignore the tears that began to trickle down their face.

(*Gage’s scenario takes place upon their return to Nuka World’s Fizztop Grille)

Cait:

Cait was waiting just inside, having taken up residence in Sole’s living room with Dogmeat.

She went to make a joke about Sole being late, but when she looked up, she lost the words quite quickly

Sole’s shoulders were shaking, and it was quite obvious that they were trying to hide that they were crying, but it was impossible to not see

She practically tripped over herself to get to Sole, who was acting casual by rearranging the items in their back they had set on the floor

Her desire to comfort and protect Sole overrode her hesitance for physical affection and she found herself hugging Sole far too tightly than she should’ve

But it was partially panic on her end that caused her to grip them so tight

“Christ, what’s a matter?”

The only sound Sole made was a choking whimper and Cait gripped them even tighter

Curie:

She reads the distress in their stance the moment they cross the threshold into their home

Similarly to Cait, she gets up from where she’s sitting immediately, but stops short of Sole

“Oh, goodness. Are you alright?” She reaches out but doesn’t quite touch them, not wanting to intrude

Sole shakes their head, unable to disguise their very obvious distress

“Physical or emotional?”

Sole opens their mouth to say emotional and gets out about half the word before choking on their own breath and curling forward into themself

“Would you like a hug?” Her voice is quieter this time.

Sole nods and she brings them in for a soft hug, rubbing their back

Danse:

Danse is far more emotionally intelligent when it comes to other people’s feelings than people give him credit for

He’s seen it happen before; soldiers compartmentalize their emotions as much as they can, for years even, but everyone has a breaking point

And sometimes it’s over something one might consider small, like breaking a dish, or sometimes it’s loss that brings them to their knees, as it would anyone

Regardless, he’s known all along that one day Sole won’t be able to suppress their emotions anymore

When they come in crying and shaking, looking defeated, he’s unsurprised. Sad in an inevitably knowing sort of way

He gets up and walks over, taking their pack from their hands and helping them shed the heavy jacket that was weighing them down

He requests they sit and takes off their boots before going to get them a glass of water

He doesn’t say much, considering he doesn’t have much to say, but he’d much rather show how he cares via actions rather than words, anyway

Deacon:

He’s somewhat similar to Danse in the fact that he knows Sole’s going to need to break at some point, however it’s in less of a “I’ve seen this before” attitude and more in the fact that he can relate

But Sole has an easier time trusting than he does, so he knows their break is coming at some point, whereas he knows that there’s never going to be a point where he allows someone else to see what Sole is allowing him to witness

So when they stand there, defeated, looking over at him like a lost child, he simply opens his arms

He’s not one for hugs, but he makes exceptions, and it seems this is one of those situations that calls for an exception

When they sob into his shoulder, he pats them on the back and replies with a simple, “I know, Boss. I know.”

Gage:

Gage is chewing at a piece of dried Mirelurk, grimacing at the salty taste.

Sole makes their way across Fizztop Grille, dropping their pack carelessly next to one of the couches.

Similarly, they drop down next to Gage where he’s sitting overlooking the rest of Nuka World, not saying a word.

After a moment, punctuated by a very obvious sigh, Gage looks over at Sole. He chews contemplatively for a moment, “You and me both. Wanna talk about it?”

Sole shakes their head and Gage responds, “Cool.”

He pats them on the back, admittedly, awkwardly and a bit too harsh to be comforting, but it’s Gage

He’s doing his best

Haylen:

Haylen has Dogmeat in her lap chewing at a Radstag bone, her hand running mindlessly over his fur

She doesn’t jump up when Sole comes in, cautious at the idea of spooking them

“Sole,” She calls out, shifting to move her feet flat on the floor

When they don’t respond and instead sniffle, she’s motioning Dogmeat off her lap and stepping towards them

“Everything alright?”

Sole shakes their head and she presses her lips together in worry, “Anything I can help with?” another shake of Sole’s head

She brushes their hair away from their face with a soft, “Oh, Sole.” and brings them into a light side-hug

Hancock:

He really does like to think he keeps his cool easily, but he really doesn’t in this case

Sole’s crying and that’s not something he thought would ever happen

“Whoa, whoa. Talk to me, what’s going on, Sunshine?”

“Bad day.” Sole chokes out

He suppresses nervous laughter, knowing it can’t just be that, but lets it go and instead puts an arm around their shoulders to pull them in for a tight hug, snug and reassuring, with his other arm finding their waist

MacCready:

He’s alert immediately, thoughts jumping to them being hurt, and potentially fatally so

Considering he thinks its an emergency, he’s in front of them and examining them for injuries within seconds

Sole doesn’t protest for the longest time, but eventually they grab ahold of his wrists and shake their head

He stops for a moment and looks them over again before sighing; this is something he doesn’t know what to do about

“Sit. You’re going to collapse if you’re not careful.”

When they’re seated he helps them shrug off their coat and sits nearby, not pressuring, but available if they want to talk

Nick:

Nick’s view is similar to Danse’s, and he isn’t quite surprised when they come in crying

He sets the pen he was writing with down and shifts back in his chair, opening his arms for a hug if they want

When they cross the room he wraps them in a hug and rubs their lower back, trying his best with the awkward angle him sitting provides

“You need to take time for yourself.” He recommends, but other than that, he remains mostly silent

Piper:

The queen of panic, despite her best efforts

She’s used to tears because of her experiences with Nat, but not from Sole of all people

She does something similar to Mac, where she checks them over briefly, before she realizes this isn’t a physical injury that’s hurting them

She’s competing with Cait when it comes to tight hugs, wishing she could protect them from whatever’s bothering them so

A sympathy crier, she has to blink away her own tears

“Let it out, Blue. We can talk about it later, okay? Everything’s gonna be just fine. I swear.”

Preston:

Preston’s not sure how to handle things, considering how used to Sole being a rock he is

He knows it’s not quite right, considering he knows other people view him the same way, and it’s incredibly difficult being the one holding it together all the time, but he’s still genuinely surprised when he sees they’re crying

He knows what to do when he realizes what’s going on, though; exactly what he wishes he could request from someone else

He brings them into a hug and mumbles reassurances; that they don’t have to be the tough one all the time, that their emotions aren’t weakness, and that everything’s going to be okay

X6-88:

A fan of mutual silence, X6 helps them get comfortable and brings them into their room; he’s always viewed quarters as the safest place to be, both in the Institute and when Sole gave him his own quarters afterwards

He helps them into bed, making sure they’re comfortable, before asking if they have any small injuries they need addressed before settling in

If they say yes he cleans and dresses their wounds as gently as possible before settling into bed near them, a respectable distance away, but within reach if they need, and begins reading a book Sole left on their nightstand

He knows it’s hard to be alone when you’re being attacked by emotions, but they don’t seem to want to talk about what’s going through their head quite yet; instead, he rubs their back and encourages them to cry it out

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Companions react #headcanons #hcs #hurt comfort #fanfiction #mild angst #Cait #Curie #Deacon #Paladin Danse #Gage #Mayor Hancock #Nick Valentine #RJ MacCready #Preston Garvey #X6-88 #Scribe Haylen