#I really must get around to doing some kind of rating of my own opinions on all of the elemental masters books I've read so far

[cool-as-steel]

my father brought us all nice lunch but unfortunately I got to The Part in a book that I forgot had really rather sickening necromancy in it and now I am feeling much less joyed by my chicken katsu

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 5

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.5

“Hey, stretch. You here to play doctor?”

“I’d just like to interview you. I’m not going to touch you if that's what you’re concerned about.”

“Why not?”

“...ANYhow, I have a few questions for you.”

“Yes, I'm single.”

“Not those kinds of questions. Can you tell me your full first name?”

“Can you give me yours first?”

“Fiddleford.”

“Stan.”

“Okay, Stan. Where are you from? And don’t you dare say from my dreams.”

“Well yeah, I’d say ‘from your dreams’, not mine. Other than that, probably some gutters or a ditch somewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“As far as I remember, I’ve been out on the streets, or in prison. I think I had a car at some point? But I dunno what happened with that, it makes my head burn trying to think about it.”

“Do you have any family?”

“No.”

“Do you remember ever having a family?”

“I don’t remember having one, but I feel like I had one before.”

“What do you feel like happened to them?”

“They probably got tired of my BS and told me to take a hike. It’s how it always goes with me.”

“That’s a theory you’ve put together. I’m asking what you feel like happened.”

“Feel like I had a dad who was waiting for an excuse to get rid of me. I feel like I had a mom who was a liar - I probably got it from her. Maybe a sibling or two? But they don’t want me around.”

“And what do you think about Stanford?”

“You mean the guy who drugged me, kidnapped me, and is keeping me prisoner in his evil basement sub-lab in the middle of the woods? I gotta say, he makes an impression.”

“But does he seem familiar to you?”

“I don’t think I could forget someone like him” 

“Is it because of his six fingers?”

“It’s twelve , and no, that's pretty normal compared to all of his other weird crap. It’s because he’s fucking crazy , and convinced I’m some mystery twin of his. But let’s stop talking about him, and talk about you instead. Are you single? You doing anything later?”

“Stay on track, Stan. Let’s take a step back and go back to talking about you. Have you recently gotten into any accidents or sustained major injuries?”

“Define ‘major’.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Judging by your friend's reaction to the stab wounds when we met, I don’t think your definition of major injury is the same as mine.”

---

"What did you determine, Fiddleford?"

"It wasn't easy to glean things because he would not stop flirting with me - was he always this way?"

"He was a little girl-crazy when we were younger, I didn't know he liked men. But that doesn’t matter right now, what were your findings?"

"He has full cognitive function. And based on your scans he has no signs of brain damage - comparing images of his brain to yours, his genetically identical twin, there isn't any morphological difference. Based on my interview, it sounds like he's never sustained significant head trauma neither.”

"But..?"

"If he really does have amnesia, it wasn't caused by a head injury."

"What else could it be?"

"A few things - perhaps he took a drug or substance that warped his brain chemistry. Or- more likely in my opinion, based on his lifestyle and what little history he tells me, he might have undergone extreme distress that caused a mental breakdown."

"Mental trauma can cause someone to lose their memories?"

"Our memories can be a shield and a sword, Stanford. Even good memories that can comfort you through a difficult time, can also cause pain and frustration when compared to a bad predicament.

He must have gone through something so traumatic that the only way his mind could cope with the stress was to... forget things. This is a phenomenon known as repression . Most of the time, a person would repress the traumatic event itself, but it looks like he’s defied the statistics and forgotten everything else instead.”

“He can’t be… that traumatized, right? This is Stanley we’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what he was like before, but he’s got a mullet, Stanford. There ain’t no way he's in a good place mentally.”

"And how would repressing memories about our family- about me , possibly help him cope with trauma?"

"If I'm going to be frank with you, this is the first time in the years that I've known you that you even mentioned having a twin brother . You've talked about other family members before, such as your older brother Sherman, but never him.

If his mind had to prioritize which memories to keep, why would it keep memories of someone he isn't close to?"

"We are- well, we were close."

"Were is a strong word, Stanford. Survival focuses on the present, not the past.”

“... What can we do to get his memories back?”

“I’m not a therapist. But perhaps if you can get him out of the survival mindset, he’d be open to some introspection.”

“So we must disable his fight-flight-freeze response…”

“Stanford Pines, I will throw that damn tranquilizer gun down the bottomless pit if you don’t put it down. Ya'll really need to stop using the slippery slope of science without consideration for morality like it's a damn seesaw. There are other ways to get him out of fight-flight.”

“Such as?”

“I would suggest you make him feel like he’s in a safe space, but that might not work.”

“Why not? He’s perfectly safe here.”

“But does he know that? From his perspective, you’re a stranger who shot him with a tranq dart and imprisoned in your basement for scientific exploitation. And I’ll remind you, this is all without his consent. He is here against his will.”

“It’s for his own good.”

“According to you, someone he thinks he doesn’t know. This may be your twin, Stanford, but he doesn’t know that. You need to gain his trust; maybe he would have trusted you by default in the past, but that isn’t the case now.”

“I… I’m not sure how to do that, Fiddleford. At one point, we knew everything about each other. And now I barely know him, and he thinks I’m a stranger. I’m still angry at him, and still bitter about what he did before he left home, and I’m disappointed in the conman and convict he turned into… but I’m sad, because he's convinced he’s not my brother.”

“You ain’t exactly the same person you were even when we first met all them years ago. People change. How about you try talking to him?”

“Just talking to him?”

“This may be difficult for you in particular, but you should try talking to him like he’s a person; and not a science experiment, anomaly, or an equation you’re trying to solve… Hey, hey don’t be looking like the last pea at pea-time now. I believe in you, you got this.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford.”

*Ford goes back downstairs to the lab. Fiddleford waits for him to be out of earshot before speaking*

“Bless his heart. This is going to be a disaster.”

To be continued…

[ketrin1607]

(The concept of a set for an idea in different clothes: sleeping), combat and palace. And the concept of Horus Senior: only sleeping and combat. The palace is not required in the plot)

I read a book on comic book creation at my leisure. There is a good idea there - if perfectionism torments, you can postpone a more important project/ comic for a while, so that the inner "critic" calms down and stops trying so hard to sort everything out. Instead of the main story, you can switch to a more secondary project that you would like to draw after the main story. I thought it would suit me perfectly)

The first comic, Fiasco, is more complex in genre, it will be based on drama with a dash of fantasy, since the basis is mythology, and only a small part of comedy, to defuse the atmosphere. But the second project that I would like to do is based on a comedy with fantasy, without drama. This project would be more suitable for a start. Maybe you should still try to draw it and not really worry about plot arcs, as now with "Fiasco", where there are quite a lot of characters, come up with a simple plot and work with only one main character?

Earlier I wrote about an idea, where the plot revolves not around some kind of community, as in the "Fiasco" around exorcised demons, but around one hero, on whom the focus of attention will be Set. The idea is as follows:

What if the god of war Seth, under circumstances unknown to him and the viewer, is killed, and thus falls into the world of the dead - Duat. In the Duat, the local master will not be Osiris, but the god of chaos and darkness Apop (where else would the god of darkness be, if not underground? The sun just doesn't reach there), who "sharpens his teeth" at Seth, since in mythology Seth used to fight against Apop on the side of Ra, the enemy of Apop. But despite the mutual dislike of both, they will make a temporary alliance to get out of the Duat. Apop will allow Seth to get out of the world of the dead by "borrowing" his power/Ka go and look for the killer. In exchange, Seth must help Apop in capturing Egypt and overthrowing Ra (without a body, Apop cannot get out of the Duat).

The main storyline will be Seth's confrontation with part of Ra's retinue in order to maintain power in Egypt, otherwise Apop will return him back to the Duat. And the secondary one is Seth's search for his killer. It would be possible to make this line the main one, but given how the god of chaos and wars will rule, other gods will want to get rid of him for such a rule)

This logline / tie can be submitted in the genre of comedy, with an admixture of fantasy, adventure and a little detective. The mood and atmosphere of the comic can be set, as in the cartoon "The Emperor's Adventure". I recently reviewed it and thought exactly this mood would be perfect for a parody comic) Plus one of my friends noted that my character style, because of the sharp corners, is somewhat similar to this cartoon)

The main source of jokes is to make gags and parodies of the "Ennead" manga (in principle, because of its reading, such an idea was born), ridiculing logical inconsistencies in it. To make it not a simple copy, add your own plot, although simpler. Not with as many twists and turns as in the Ennead.

Alas, I do not know if Mojito is writing the script herself. Does she write it alone, did she write it in advance and draw a comic based on it, or does she come up with everything along the way. But despite my dislike of the main genre of the Ennead, I want to take off my hat) If she taught her own script writing courses, I would be happy to sign up)) If I had to spell out all the conflicts and character plans for each other, like Mojito, my head would explode)

I apologize for the abundance of text, but I find it difficult to give short descriptions) I would like to know the opinion from the outside - does the idea of the plot of such a comic book sound interesting? The theme of the parody? In advance about the rating, despite the age rating of the Ennead, I still will not draw such explicit shots, respectively, and a parody based on it will not go further than 16+.

[semper-legens]

1. Max, by Sarah Cohen-Scali

Owned: No, library Page count: 391 My summary: Max is the perfect child. Blonde haired, blue eyed, healthy and able-bodied; the perfect Aryan for the Nazi regime. As a Lebensborn child, Max is set to become one of the elites of the Third Reich. But as the war wears on, Max finds that the ideals he has been taught do not necessarily reflect the reality of the world around him. Germany is falling. And if Max is going to survive, he must find the truth in a world full of lies. My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

This was a very interesting book. I picked it up because of its striking cover and the desire to know just what the hell was going on here - and I found a slice of history that I wasn't expecting to be analysed as in-depth as they are here. I think this book did a lot of things right that Caging Skies, the novel upon which JoJo Rabbit was based, ultimately failed at in my opinion. It's a scathing critique of the Nazi regime and its impact upon even the people who should in theory be the most privileged and adored within this place and time. The narrator is a boy who starts out as an unborn child and ends up as a nine year old, and that colours a lot of how the story progresses and how this narrative is told. It was really fascinating, and I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would.

Okay, so let's get into it. Our main character is Max, unless he's Konrad. Officially, his name is Konrad, but Max is the name that his mother gave him and the book is literally called Max, so I'm calling him Max. Like I said, the story starts with him as an unborn baby - it's a little over-the-top to start with, a bit hard to adjust to the fact that the person talking to you is a literal foetus, but I think it works thematically with the points the book is making. After all, part of the point here is that, as a Lebensborn child, Max is being indoctrinated into the Nazi regime literally before he is born; he is born knowing that he is meant to be superior, and more interestingly, knowing the potential penalty for failure. Even at this early stage, he knows that kids who fail to meet the Nazi ideal are killed. He even knows how they are killed. There's no innocence here - no Boy In The Striped Pyjamas kind of unrealistic childishness from this kid, he knows exactly what he's meant to be and revels in it. When we see him in school, later, we see him being 'educated' about Jewish people and the things he's learning are ridiculously over-the-top and cartoonishly evil, but that's sadly realistic. That's what the Nazis were like. And I like that the book doesn't shy away from just how awful this situation is, and how awful this boy is.

But I'm interested, too, in the fact that Max did have some innocence to him. It's notable that in theory, he revels in the idea of murder and ethnic cleansing, but when it happens in front of him he's a lot more squeamish about it. A kid he knows in the school is shot next to him, and he tries to rationalise this while still noting that he feels strange about it and has a stomach ache - clearly, it upsets him. And when he meets his friend Lukas, a boy stolen from Poland for his blonde hair and blue eyes, he doesn't know what to think when Lukas reveals he's Jewish. If Max really was the Nazi ideal that he 'should' be, he'd report Lukas instantly, but he doesn't. His friendship with Lukas has an overtone of homoeroticism, though Max constantly denies and never truly acknowledges the potential there, possibly because he's about six-to-eight years old at this point. Lukas himself is interesting - focused on survival, but initially trying to take down the Nazis who have hurt him from the inside, straight-up murdering two of the other kids in the school and aiming to do the same to others, until Germany's fall renders the effort pointless next to his own survival.

I think the point I'm circling around here is that it's absolutely fascinating that Max doesn't quite realise how much damage has been done to him by his upbringing, and how until the very last second he doesn't know how much power his story can have. It matters little to him that his mother was murdered. He doesn't really care about being alone in the world - mostly, anyway. He doesn't quite understand how traumatised he is from what he's done and what he's been taught. He's not an innocent, he's definitely complicit in all that's happening. He makes active choices to engage in murderous, genocidal acts. But because he's a child, because he's been this brainwashed, because he's shown in this level of detail, we can see where he's coming from, and understand another facet of how fascism fucks people up.

Next up, back to the Dark is Rising, as all find the light at last.

[kamreadsandrecs]

Title: The Words of Kings and Prophets (Gael Song #2) Author: Shauna Lawless Genre/s: historical, fantasy, mythology and folklore Content/Trigger Warning/s: slavery, physical and emotional abuse, murder, death, depictions of mental illness Summary (from author's website): The sequel to the critically acclaimed The Children of Gods and Fighting Men, The Words of Kings and Prophets is the powerful new historical fantasy novel by Shauna Lawless. Power fades but fire endures… Ireland, 1000 AD. Clouds of war gather for mortals and immortals alike as the Irish kingdoms strive for supremacy. Gormflaith, unhappy queen of Brian Boru, schemes to destroy the Descendants, sworn enemies of her Fomorian kind. As her plans take an unexpected turn, Gormflaith discovers her magic is more powerful than she ever realised – but at what cost? Descendant healer Fódla dwells disguised in the mortal world, seeking to protect her young nephew – but the boy has secrets of his own. Fódla must do all in her power to keep him hidden from those who would use him for evil. When a mysterious man comes to King Brian’s court, his presence could spell disaster for both Gormflaith and Fódla – and for Ireland herself. For he is Tomas, an ambitious immortal – and he will do anything to see his plans become reality. Buy Here: https://bookshop.org/p/books/words-of-kings-and-prophets-volume-2-shauna-lawless/19782163 Spoiler-Free Review: As a continuation of the first book, this functions perfectly well. It focuses a lot more on intrigue and developing the established characters, which makes for a somewhat less action-packed read but still entirely fun read, in my opinion. Reading how Gormflaith and Fódla develop was absolutely fun: Gormflaith still has more layers than Fódla, but Fódla experiences some solid character development in this book, which is where much of the fun reading her derives. We also get Colmon as a narrator in this one. In the last book he was a somewhat minor character, but this time around he gets narrator status and it looks like he’ll be developed into another protagonist for the third book. I look forward to it, not least because his perspective is so different from Fódla’s and Gormflaith’s. There was also an interesting dialogue in this book about oppressive systems, and how it can be hard to dismantle such systems when one is benefitting from them. It’s only a moment in the book, but it does address an element of the previous book (and the actual historical milieu in which this series is set) that I think other readers wanted the author to deal with a bit more explicitly. I can’t say for absolute certain if it was handled well, but I will say that it gave me food for thought, especially when thinking about that element in the context of the history of the period, and what certain characters then promised to do about it. I think that the main gripe I have about this is that it really feels like a transition book, moving characters so they’re in specific places (literally and metaphorically speaking) as preparation for a big finale or big change of events in the next book. This is just a small complaint though, as I liked the book regardless, but it’s definitely got that vibe. Overall, this was a solid continuation of the previous book. Characters grow in their own ways, and the plot continues to be a fun ride. I’m looking forward to seeing how Colmon steps up in the next book in the series (along with another character I won't mention because spoilers). Still, this does feel a lot like a book that’s meant to put particular characters in specific places in preparation for something big going down, so readers looking for something a little more action-packed might not be entirely happy with this one. Rating: five ships

[thevagabondexpress]

this is about the magister being tsc's most twisted villain and it's also about inopportune lust: some issues a tsc fan has with tsc, pt. vi

Note: this one deals with a fairly heavy theme, relating to consent. No use of the r word itself but just know.

I don't need think I need explain just what makes the Magister TSC's most twisted villain (in my opinion). I don't want to and shouldn't have to go into detail about just what kind of disgusting, disturbing, perverted, and definitely not consensual thing the Magister was planning to do to Tessa Gray, much less the fact that he was planning this since before she was even born.

Granted, I understand why this one kind of can't be acknowledged by the canon. TID's Young Adult/Youth/Teen-Content rating won't really allow Cassandra Clare to fully acknowledge the gravity of a plan centred around assault, forced marriage, and forced childbirth. So my issue here isn't really with the fans, or with the author. It's primarily with TSC's Young Adult rating. It makes it hard to acknowledge the reality of how the characters experienced it. What they went through. And what kind of lasting trauma they must carry with them.

That being said, Cassandra Clare brushes off trauma and grief far more quickly than she should. I'm asexual so that colors my viewing of the series but I can't imagine that, in Tessa Gray's situation, physical intimacy would have been at all easy during the events of the third book of the series. I imagine, if this were the real world, Tessa might have needed weeks or months before she could feel comfortable, even though she was rescued before any unwanting hands could be laid on her. The fact that she goes to bed with Will while still trapped in Cadair Idris just makes no sense. And they're far from the only TSC couple to have made love or thought about it during disjointedly untimely circumstances (say, while grieving a close loved one's death).

As usual, I don't claim to have all the answers. I'm not saying, "I want [insert fix] instead." I do that when I write fanfiction. I don't need or want to do it here. I'm just trying to understand my own personal pet peeves with a series that (despite my many pet peeves) I personally love. But it'd be nice to get a little recognition for how difficult TSC's YA rating makes properly handling and recognizing the difficult topics it sometimes touches on. And I hope that if we do get that TID TV series people keep talking about, they age the protagonists up so we can deal with the story's themes a little less hazily.

"some issues a tsc fan sees in tsc" is an attempt to break down the unacknowledged things in tsc that i unearthed reading chain of thorns, rereading the rest of the series in preparation for it, and writing two longform fanfics (one of them a genderbent canon reworking) for the last hours. click on the "some issues..." tag to see more of these.

[lmelodie]

I must now infect YOU with OC beach day asks, so, WOE! BEACH DAY BE UPON YE AND YOUR OC'S?

(Killian doesn't strike me as a beach guy, but Mera is like. A force to be reckoned with and I need to know if she COULD drag him to the beach >:)

I'm SO GLAD YOU ASKED! And I'm also really glad that you have such a good handle on these characters personalities. I've also added Lucy as well because she has become my oc-in-law of sorts. BEACH DAY FUCKERS LETS GOOO!

Chimera:

Mera loves the beach a fair amount, but she's banned from quite a few beaches because of her tendency to “enhance” the PH level of the water. She’s not allowed at a handful of different lakes.

But! The bodies of water she’s allowed to go to she has a blast. She usually goes by herself or occasionally with a gaggle of her friends. And after getting all her stuff set up its straight to the water!

I've mentioned it before in a different ask, but she LOVES splashing around in the water. She brings her own giant rubber ball (the ones that the tigers get to play with in zoos) and goes HAM! She likes swimming under the water too and being fully submerged. 

Maybe she catches a stray fish in her mouth, who knows.

When not in the water however its tanning hour. She tans like a champ and is two or three shades darker than when she arrived. She does The Cat thing where she’ll find a nice patch of sun and bask in it for a long while. Some kind of alcoholic drink next to her and she’s good for a looong time. She pulls a Blaise and becomes the sand.

She also has her own music blasting somewhere next to her as a soundtrack for her trip. If no one else at the beach likes her music taste, then they must suffer anyway cause she’s not changing it >:)

If she is so inclined, she will be bringing the latest trashy romance novel she's into atm. Ya know, essentials.

If she’s with the girlies she will be spilling ALL THE GOSSIP. She is all over that rumor mill and will be talking shit about everyone while she’s there.

I feel like she has her own specially made chair set up so that she can comfortably relax and veg out on the sand. Considering the awkward physique. 

She has also been known to frequent nudist beaches on occasion. Nudist magical beaches are very far and few between, so she actually tries her best to NOT get banned from the few that there are. She’s all about letting the lord hold her tits from time to time.

But as far as clothing goes, she already wears garments that are practically bikini tops anyway, so her swimwear is basically the equivalent of two pasties and couple of strings. Helps with the tan lines at any rate.

Killian:

You are very right in that Kills has informed me personally that he doesn't like the beach all that much lol. Most of the time will not humor the thought of going to one. It’s just not his thing; it's in broad daylight, there's not a lot of places to hide or lurk, its uncomfortably hot.

(Cue cartoonish image of a random goth at a beach)

HOWEVER, the only time where he will consider going to the beach is if it's at nighttime. Nighttime beaches kinda act as a weird liminal space (in my opinion), and he’s always looking for more of those to hang out at. So, he’ll only go as long as it's after sunset.

Chimera (and later Jack when they eventually get back together), plan this accordingly if they want to invite him on this kinda outing. They will compromise and plan the day so that it goes from early evening to full nighttime so that he won't be as uncomfortable. 

He also doesn't dress for the occasion either. He will wear his usual full coverage outfit to the beach and strip accordingly. Leaving the shirt and pants with the legs rolled up.

(This beach episode thing has made me realize that I do not like to think about this man's grippers being out in any capacity.)

And he doesn't even do much while he’s there either! He’ll mostly just wade through the shallows and think. Shoot the shit with whoever he happens to be with. Scare any straggling passersby. Ominously lurk in the far distance.

He likes talking with Mera and having a drink but ultimately complains a whole bunch that they could've just done this at home and how his coat is now full of sand. She will try and splash him a little, but this just gets on his nerves more than anything. They might have to fight about it, they might scrap.

Post Reunion with Jack, he is a little more lenient with him, and complains a lot more silently. Jack fully understands that this not his comfort zone and tries to dial back the Jackness as much as possible. It only works some of the time.

Jack will also throw snowballs at him, but that's just something he does in their day to day anyway. So they will ALSO scrap. If Mera annoys him, Jack must have a death wish.

MAYBE romance happens. MAYBE. I will let you decide what exactly goes down if anything at all 😉

There was one time where he ended up bringing very illegal fireworks and let those off from the shoreline. He did like that part at least.

Lucy:

Lucy liked the beach before getting powers, but after? She LOVES the place. And that’s because of the moon and its effects on the tides. After getting her powers she finds being at the beach a lot more peaceful and centering than before. She ends up actually buying property on the beach front at some point and just lives there later in life :)

She is a volleyball QUEEN. She slaughters at beach volleyball and Charlie thinks he can win every time thinking THIS TIME will be the one. And he always loses and never learns. She walks away 20 bucks richer on beach days.

She also enjoys a good footrace, never one to be the fastest but consistently comes in second or third and is always a good sport about it.

One of her more odd abilities is to be able to perfectly split and evenly divide things (she's like a living set of scales) so this means she can actually MOSSES THE SEA and carves out a little alcove for herself to walk along the bottom of the ocean floor and collect shells and sea glass.

Sibling Stack beach edition is literally just Charlie throwing the likes of Luce and Buddy straight into the water. And this never gets old.

She's a fan of both burying someone and getting buried in the sand, she gets a kick out of both.

She might also bring along a certain fiery mermaid friend named Ryder 👀 I don't know exactly what his personality is yet, but he enables Lucy’s behaviors 100% of the time. Good and bad. He’s all about the girl boss AND woman fail moments. He’s the epitome of, Kick his ass baby I got your flower.

Like the twins he does make the water warmer, and they will go scuba diving together. Looking at all the fishes and reefs and things. She holds onto him while he goes swims super fast and she loves it to pieces.

She has sandwiches! She packs the picnic and caters to everyone's individual tastes.

She periodically bothers Jack about cooling her off during the day until he gets the idea to just dump her into a huge pile of snow on the sand.

Anyway, thanks for letting me ramble about the summer blorbos in the middle of spring.

[anthony-sharma]

Six of Crows Reread - Ch. 5

Another chapter by our very own Dirtyhands!

_

Chapter 5: Kaz

“One day Rollins would come to Kaz on his knees, begging for help. If Kaz managed this job for Van Eck, that day would come much sooner than he ever could have hoped. Brick by brick, I will destroy you.”

And that day did indeed come, at the end of Crooked Kingdom and in episode 2.04 of S&B. In my opinion, one of the best scenes in the whole show. Freddy embodied Kaz SO WELL in that scene. 

“The boy at the desk was dressed in a creamy velvet suit, a white rose in his buttonhole. He had white hair and eyes the colour of boiled eggs. Barring the eyes, he looked like an albino, but Kaz happened to know that he’d been tailored to match the decor of the House by a certain Grisha on the payroll.

[...]

She had a lucrative side business as a Tailor, seeing to the wrinkles and jowls of the wealthy Kerch, but her chief source of income came from altering moods.”

I think this guy will look really creepy in the show! Also, Nina must not be such a shitty Tailor, if she managed to do that and if she has a lucrative job at it on the side. We learn in the second book that it was Genya who tailored her to look like Mila Jandersdat, but she must have some good enough knowledge of Tailoring (being from the same Order as Tailors) to manage that. 

“A man doesn’t need a bed to get ideas, Nina.”

Nina fluttered her lashes. “What would you know about it, Kaz? Take those gloves off, and we’ll see what ideas come to mind.”

“A man doesn’t need a bed to get ideas” yeah well, as a very wise man once said (more exactly, Archie Renaux in one of S&B’s interviews) “men are trash” so, yeah, there’s that.

Also, I really wanna see Nina flirt with Kaz in the show! We know she flirts with everyone and we saw a glimpse of it with the “Waffles” exchange, but it would be really funny to watch an exchange like this. 

Lastly, I wonder if we’ll see Nina work in the White Rose as she does in the book. She’ll need to find a job as she buys time to free Matthias, so maybe she will?

“The brain is just another organ,” Kaz said, quoting Van Eck.

“Yes, but it’s an incredibly complex one. Controlling or altering another person’s thoughts … well, it’s not like lowering a pulse rate or releasing a chemical to improve someone’s mood. There are too many variables. No Grisha is capable of it.”

Another foreshadowing to what Nina will be able to do under jurda parem by the end of the book. 

“Without being invited, Kaz sat down on the plush settee and stretched out his bad leg. “Jurda parem is real, Nina, and if you’re still the good little Grisha soldier I think you are, you’ll want to hear what it does to people like you.”

She turned the lump of gold over her in her hands, then wrapped her dressing gown more tightly around her and curled up at the end of the settee. Again, Kaz marvelled at the transformation. In these rooms, she played the part her clients wanted to see – the powerful Grisha, serene in her knowledge.

But sitting there with her brow furrowed and her feet tucked under her, she looked like what she truly was: a girl of seventeen, raised in the sheltered luxury of the Little Palace, far from home and barely getting by every day.”

It must be very weird watching Kaz stretching his leg in the same couch that Nina’s sitting it. We are used to seeing him be physically detached from the rest of his team, so even these small moments of “closeness” will be very interesting to watch in the spin-off.

On another note, is Nina not making big money as a tailor. Just a few paragraphs ago it said that she had a lucrative job as one, so now she’s just barely getting by?

“He isn’t hiding out. The Fjerdans have him at the Ice Court.”

Nina paused. “Then he’s as good as dead.”

“The Merchant Council doesn’t think so. They wouldn’t be going to this trouble or offering up this kind of reward if they thought he’d been neutralised. Van Eck was worried. I could see it.”

Later we find out that Van Eck was lying to Kaz because, among other things, he didn’t even have 30 million kruge to spare in case the Crows made it out of the Ice Court. So why did Kaz believe him in the first place? I think it was because all good lies are always embedded with a little bit of truth, so Van Eck showing proof of what jurda parem could do (with the Tidemaker being able to cross walls and the Heartrender’s effects being still visible in the stadwatch members) was the “truth” part, and the “lie” part was him being able to pay them 30 million kruge for the retrieval of Yul-Bayur. Of course, Kaz being the greedy person that he is, and in order for him to fulfill his future plans with Rollins, it was a huge opportunity. Besides, breaking into the Ice Court was impossible so that also presented an extra challenge for him so much so that he was almost powerless to refuse it.

“Don’t put this on the old man,” she snapped. “If you’d wanted to help me, you know you could have.”

“And why would I do that?”

She whirled on him. “Because … because …”

“When have I ever done something for nothing, Nina?”

Except he kinda does? Unless he also has a hidden agenda that we don’t know about. In episode 2.08, after Nina says that she’ll claw her way to a happy ending, Kaz answers with “Let me help you” but like...if he doesn’t do things out of charity, what is his reason?

“That may have been true once, Nina, but it’s been a very long year. Helvar is much changed.”

“You’ve seen him?” Her green eyes were wide, eager. There, thought Kaz, the Barrel hasn’t beaten the hope out of you yet.

“I have.”

I can’t wait for Kaz and Matthias’ first scene together!! And the fact that Calahan and Freddy are so eager for their first scene as well just makes me sure it’ll be great!

So that’s it for chapter 5. Next up, the very first episode of our favorite Heartrender <3

[rey-townsend]

"I am good at my job, but I've an entire town of folks to watch over.. you may just slip through the cracks by accident," with each word, her fingers lightly tugged at a frayed piece of the couch's pillow. Mostly because she sometimes had difficulty lying to a person's face. It was her father's fault-- the man had instilled a certain kind of fear in her, if she dared utter any false word, to the point where she could burst into tears for even trying to mislead him. Her father hadn't been an abusive man, of course. He just commanded that respect. One look of disappointment could destroy her.

"You could, but you didn't, and haven't, so I don't think you're going to because it's not a bad idea." Finally, she did look at him, so he could see how well she wore that pleased expression. "Besides. what else is there to do? If you don't go, you'll just be stuck back at home as any other day, doing the same old boring stuff you always do. Don't you get tired of that?" Probably not. His past relationship must have done a number to him, because he wasn't even in his forties and yet, one could live by that mundane, set routine. She'd wager money he went to bed at a specific time, too. Ney did as well, but!-- the difference was, it was often past midnight, before one, and on the heels of incredibly long, exhausting days that were not always the same. "Literally, the absolute worst thing that could happen is you get there, feel awkward turtle, decide to nevermind, and nope out of there before anyone has a chance to notice you." Really, far as she could see, there wasn't any downside to the ordeal.

Ney's stare dropped away, to anything else in the room to focus on as a noncommittal 'hm' sort of sound came in response to his seemingly innocent comment. Nathan hadn't meant anything by it, and yet the words still managed to wound somewhere. Because naturally, it forced the woman to have to look at herself and ask the age-old question of what was wrong with her then? People all around her, Nathan included, apparently found their people without any bumps or forks in the road-- everything was easy, simple, and perfect. It all fit right, even if it sometimes fell apart somewhere along the line. Ney had yet to get to those first baby steps with anyone. It was like pulling teeth, some of the most awkward and awful situations that never bore any fruit, not for lack of her trying. Oh, she had tried. She had lost count on how many times by now, too. Lately, she didn't see the point in trying anymore.

For herself, that is. For Nathan? Absolutely, he should try. His luck in that department held a much better success rate, even if the last one had failed so spectacularly. In her opinion, that only said his next was bound to be exactly what was meant for him. Like Goldilocks. Or... did he need to go through three for that? Maybe he already had? Actually, just nix Goldilocks altogether, she was a picky bitch anyway.

"I don't know, I thought dancing sounded fun," she shrugged, though wasn't too surprised to find out of his aversion to it. Most men usually were. Her lips pulled into a smile at the mention of Mikael, one of her best friends. She got to be more open with that twin, actually-- more... womanly, as weird as that sounded. She could giggle and be silly and play with the makeup and wear pretty things to be admired in, and Mikael played along right with her. "You could always ask him for tips?" she suggested, because sadly Neylani had no real experience with dancing either. As pathetic as it was, she'd gone to prom on her own and spent the time chit-chatting with one of her favorite teachers about what her after-school plans were from here. And the other one, in seventh grade? She was helping to document everyone else's good time with crappy, overexposed pictures. "But it's not like you have to dance, either," Ney went on with a light eyeroll, "use your imagination. Someone asks you to dance, divert the conversation to something else so that way, you continue their interaction yet avoid the dreaded dancing. Be like-- WOW, that color on you is amazing, or try the classic 'I was actually just going for a cup of lemonade first, would you like to join me?'" She gave him an expectant look. "Be spontaneous, think on your toes!"

Nathan chuckled lightly, setting down his coffee cup on the kitchen counter before he'd moved to sit near her. "You're too good at your job to do that to me and we both know it." He'd lived on Greywood long enough to know a thing or two about the safety of the town, himself. Don't go wandering off alone on nights where the moon was full. Be cautious around newly turned wolves and vampires. It was all pretty basic knowledge at this point. But still, there was plenty that still went wrong in this town, try as they all might to keep it safe and secure.

"I could just say 'great idea Ney, but no thanks,'" Nate sighed, shoulders lifting with a bit of a shrug. It actually wasn't a bad idea, though. He hadn't really been looking for someone as of late; He'd been focused on other parts of his life, his career, his family. But maybe putting himself out there, even if it was just to meet people and make friendships - it couldn't hurt. Well, maybe it could, in an emotionally awkward sort of way, but what else was new?

"It was easy, once," Nate huffed, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck before looking back at her again. He wasn't the type to really date around, he hadn't had a ton of relationships in his past - but the one...it had been simple. It had been easy. It had simply made sense. They were going to make a family together.

And then she'd disappeared.

Maybe, for a while, he'd held onto hope that she'd come back with an explanation. But that hope had died years ago.

His brow furrows a bit at her suggestion that he might even get a dance. "Do you think that is supposed to be a selling point or are you intending to make it sound more awkward?" He cleared his throat, giving the slightest hint of a self deprecating smile. "I can't dance for shit. Mik got all the good flirting genes, I think."

[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

[valdomarx]

“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

-

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

-

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

-

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

-

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

-

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

-

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

[agent-kihyun]

neighbors [ldh]

pairing: Neighbor!Hyuck x reader (feat. 00 line)

wc: 6.1K

rating: R/18+

warnings: explicit smut; oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), flirting, making out, sex jokes

summary: When Lee Haechan moves in across the hall from you, you must figure out how to resist his charm in order to prove a point to your roommates. But what’s the harm in giving into temptation?

↣

The minute that your neighbor across the hall, an older woman who lived alone, passed away, you were mildly relieved. Yes, you know that sounds...bad. But, in your defense, she was rather mean to you and often complained to the landlord about you and your roommates despite the three of you not disturbing her.

You had hoped the landlord wasn’t planning on filling the empty apartment with new people again, but much to your dismay, within days the new apartment is rented out to a new tenant already. But what could you do? It was happening whether you liked it or not.

“Hey, have you heard?” your roommate, Bomi, bursts into the apartment practically screaming.

You casually flip a page in the magazine that you’re skimming, “Heard what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Bomi shuts the door and walks over to you, snatching your magazine out of your hands.

“Hey! Give that back! I literally have no idea what you’re talking about!” You half-heartedly reach up for your magazine.

“We’re getting new neighbors, you dweeb!” Bomi laughs in excitement.

“You’re a dweeb,” you pout and re-open your magazine, continuing to skim the pages.

“Are you not excited about getting new neighbors?” Your roommate scoffs.

“I couldn’t care less, to be honest,” you shrug.

“You’re unbelievable. I’m pretty sure they’re our age,” she smacks your knee to get your attention.

“Okay. Cool.”

“Hey! Show some enthusiasm!” Bomi whines.

“What are you trying to get her to show enthusiasm for?” Another one of your roommates, Gaeun, walks into the living room from her room.

“We’re getting new neighbors! I just saw them moving in across the hall into Mrs. Kim’s old place! They’re really cute,” Bomi explains to Gaeun.

“Really? Oh my gosh, let me see,” Gaeun rushes to the door and takes a quick peek as your new neighbors move their boxes into their apartment.

“You guys are so lame. We never interact with any of our neighbors anyway, what's the big deal?” You roll your eyes and finally put your magazine down.

“Because...they’re hot,” Gaeun says after she closes the door.

“Bomi just said they’re cute, so which is it?”

“Don’t be such a smartass,” Bomi says to you and you cross your arms in indignation.

“Let’s go welcome them! Introduce ourselves so they, y’know, like are familiar with someone around here,” Gaeun suggests with a wink.

“If they’re still moving their stuff in, it’s probably not a good time. Just wait till they’re--” You begin.

“Shh, I wasn’t asking you,” Gaeun sends you a quick glare and you shoot daggers back at her.

“Yeah, let’s go say hi!” Bomi grins and the two take off faster than the speed of light.

You stand in the foyer of your apartment, alone and now in a sour mood. You decide that there’s only one thing that can cheer you up at the moment: ice cream. You quickly grab your phone, keys and wallet, slip on your shoes and swiftly leave the apartment.

Your two roommates, standing in the doorway of your new neighbors’ apartment, call you over to say hi, as if they totally didn’t just ditch you, but you ignore them and take the staircase instead of the elevator.

You take a good hour at the ice cream parlor, eating ice cream by yourself and trying to distract yourself from the events from earlier. Why did you have to care about new neighbors? Why did Bomi and Gaeun make you feel like less than for not caring? Who cares if they’re hot? Maybe they were right for giving you weird looks, you think.

The ice cream does nothing for you. Instead, you try to cheer yourself up by getting your comfort foods from the grocery store. A pint of your favorite ice cream and snacks always made you feel much better.

With your food in hand, you walk home with a small smile on your face, having completely forgotten about your roommates. When you arrive back to the apartment, you see that the moving truck that was previously there when you left, is now gone. With that knowledge, you take the elevator up to your floor. You take the time in the elevator to begin snacking, but stop yourself so you can enjoy the rest in the comfort of your own home.

However, as you glance at your new neighbor’s door, you know you’d have to wait a little longer to eat your food. You felt bad for simply storming off earlier and not even waving to the new people on your floor. With a heavy sigh you find yourself walking to their door to formally introduce yourself.

3 knocks to the door and it’s swinging open. A young man stands before you, giving you a mildly perplexed look. Right off the bat you know you’re doomed. Your roommates were right about your new neighbors (or at least one of them) being handsome. If he looks this good, what do others look like?

“Hello? Can I help you?” his voice snaps you out of it.

“Oh...yeah, um, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m your neighbor,” you stick out your hand for him to shake and tell him your name. The young man looks down at your hand and back up at your face before taking your hand in his and shaking it twice. His hand lingers in yours before you pull yours away.

“You can call me Haechan,” he gives you a flashy grin. You return his smile, thinking that maybe you were wrong to judge your neighbor before even meeting him.

“I live across from you,” You point to the door on the other side of the elevator landing space, “I’m pretty sure you met my two other roommates earlier.”

“Oh yeah, you ignored them and left them hanging. Kind of a dick move, in my honest opinion,” he leans against his doorframe, crossing his arms and a smug expression on his face. Your jaw drops at his statement.

So you weren’t entirely wrong. What a little shit.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but in my defense, they were dicks to me right before that and I wasn’t in the mood to pretend like I was happy,” you cross your arms as well. Haechan laughs and shakes his head.

“I guess that’s fair. My roommates can be dicks too sometimes so I understand,” he shrugs. “Do you want to meet them as well?”

“Um…” you trail off, unsure if you wanted to introduce yourself to the others at the moment.

“Come on, they won’t bite,” Haechan winks at you. Something about the delivery of his comment makes your cheeks heat up, but you decide to just go for it.

“Okay,” you say, and before you know it, Haechan is tugging you into his apartment, shutting the door behind you.

Once inside, you look around and find boxes everywhere. Some of them were open, some of them were still sealed; of course since they were unpacking. There was a blue sofa in the middle of the room, two other males sitting on it and unpacking boxes. One was in the kitchen, also unpacking, you assumed.

“Hey, we have a guest!” Haechan announces, and suddenly there were 4 pairs of eyes on you. One of the guys on the couch stands up and walks over to you. He takes your hand in his and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jaemin,” he smiles at you and it takes everything in you not to laugh, so instead you send him a tight-lipped smile. You quickly deduce he was the flirty type, and that you’d probably endure a lot more of his flirting if you were to hang out with these guys often.

“Hey, knock it off you weirdo, you’re gonna scare her,” the one from the kitchen walks over and offers his hand for you to shake. You quickly shake it, afraid he might do the same thing as Jaemin.

“I’m Renjun, and don’t worry, I won’t kiss your hand. Some of us are normal, I promise,” he shoots a glare at Jaemin, who rolls his eyes in response. You softly laugh at Renjun and then your eyes move over to the last one, who is still sitting on the couch.

“Oh, I’m Jeno. It’s nice to meet you! Sorry I can’t get up right now, I sprained my ankle earlier today while moving our stuff in,” He gave you a sheepish smile.

“Aw I’m sorry about your ankle, I hope it gets better!” you offer your condolences. Jeno smiles and nods in gratitude.

“And your name?” Jaemin asks. You casually provide your name for the 3 other boys to hear and they nod.

“Truly a pleasure to meet you,” Jaemin beams at you.

“Would you like to stay for awhile?” Haechan suddenly asks from beside you.

“Oh...I appreciate the offer, but you guys look like you’re busy unpacking. Plus I was hoping to spend some quality time with...my...ice cream,” You hold up the food in it’s plastic bag.

“Ah don’t worry about us unpacking, I mean you can help too,” Haechan says, and Renjun smacks his arm then shoots him a disapproving look. You nervously chuckle and shift on your feet.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re free to go. It was delightful to meet you and your roommates, it’s nice to know we have some friends our age here,” Renjun tells you and you nod.

“It was delightful meeting you all too. I don’t know what my roommates told you, but if you have any questions about the building or something, you can always ask us,” you tell them while opening their front door.

“Thanks! Much appreciated!” Jeno waves goodbye to you. You wave to the four boys as you exit the apartment.

Just as you begin to close the door, Haechan slips out right after you.

“Hey, wait,” he calls out and you turn around to face the boy.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” he says, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. You give him a small smile in return.

“Give me a good reason not to be,” you tell him before you turn back to your apartment.

Haechan stares at you as you unlock your door and disappear into your own apartment, unsure of what to make of your remark. As he walks back to his own place, a smirk on his lips, he thinks of all the ways to make sure you stick around.

“Be careful what you ask for…”

↣

After Haechan’s first encounter with you, he finds any way possible to see you more. He makes it his mission to give you plenty of good reasons for you not to be a stranger (technically, per your request).

The first incident is more...accidental. If anything, he would have to blame the mail delivery person for this.

As Haechan arrives at the apartment building from his last class of the day, he decides to check his mailbox for his unit. He quickly gathers the envelopes and advertisement cards that were stuffed into his mailbox and locks it, then walks toward the elevator while sifting through it to see if there’s anything for him.

The only problem is that he doesn’t see his name...or any of his roommates’ names. He sees yours and your roommates’ names. He sighs in slight frustration at how incompetent the mail delivery person had to be to mix up his mail with yours but then a lightbulb goes off in his head. You need your mail...so he’s going to have to give it to you...which means…

When the elevator reaches your floor, Haechan makes an immediate beeline for your door. He knocks a few times before you swing the door open, confusion written in your features as you take in Haechan leaned up against your door frame.

“Donghyuck.”

Haechan’s--or Donghyuck’s--smug expression fades instantly at the use of his legal name.

“H-how did you--?”

“It was on your mail, which somehow ended up in my mailbox,” you cross your arms as you give him a suspicious glare.

“I didn’t do anything, I got your mail too,” he holds up your mail to your face and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh,” you quickly take your mail from Haechan, “well thanks for getting my mail...Hyuck.” A smug smile paints your lips as you use his legal name again.

Haechan makes a disgruntled expression and sighs, “Why are you calling me that?”

“Because it’s cute and it’s, oh I don’t know...your actual name? Don’t worry, though, I’ll keep calling you Haechan,” You reassure him. Haechan gives you a suspicious glare and crosses his arms. He most definitely wasn’t expecting for you to be good at playing his game, which he thought that you didn’t know you were a part of.

“Can I just have my mail now?” He huffs, deciding to take a loss for this round.

“So impatient, geez,” you pick the stack of Haechan’s mail off your foyer table and hand it to him. Haechan takes his mail from you and is about to bid you adieu before he suddenly changes his mind on losing this round.

“Personally,” he begins, catching your attention from your mail, “I think you should use that Savage Fenty promo code. I’d love to see what you get.”

Your heart nearly stops in your chest as you look up in horror at Haechan’s shit-eating grin, knowing full well that he knocked you off your axis. You don’t even have a comeback, you just watch in silence as Haechan sends you a wink and leaves you standing in your doorway. He shouts a quick thank you before he enters his own apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“I can’t believe--” You hiss as you slam your door shut, your face incredibly hot from Haechan’s simple, yet flirty, remark. You knew he had to have skimmed through your mail, or he wouldn’t have shown up at your door to give it back. What you didn’t anticipate was that he’d use your mail against you.

“Were you just flirting with our neighbor?” You hear your roommate, Gaeun, behind you. You whip around to face her and scowl.

“No. He was flirting with me,” you inform her.

“You think he’s cute don’t you?”

“I do not!”

“Oh please, you’d be stupid to not think he’s cute. I cannot believe just a week ago you were so disinterested in our new neighbors and now you’re literally buddy-buddy with them, Haechan in particular,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever, you’re annoying,” you scoff.

“You totally like him, huh?”

“Shut up no I don’t!”

“Alright, alright, fine. I have a hard time believing it, but okay,” Gaeun shrugs.

A comfortable silence fills the space between you and Gaeun before she pipes up again.

“I’m just saying if you end up sleeping with him, I won’t be surprised.”

“GAEUN!”

↣

A couple of days later, Haechan reminds you of his presence again.

You were doing homework in your living room when a frantic knocking on your front door unceremoniously interrupts you. You save your work and close your laptop before padding over to the door to see who is so rudely interrupting you from your studies.

Lo and behold, as you gaze through your peephole, you find Haechan standing on the other side. You sigh and reluctantly open the door, giving the boy an unamused glare.

“Thank God you’re home, I need your help,” Haechan exhales in relief. You raise your eyebrows at his distressed tone, unsure if something was wrong.

“Why, did something happen? Are you okay?” You ask him.

“Aw...you’re worried about me, how cute,” Haechan smiles at you, touched by your concern. You groan in annoyance and frown at him.

“No, I’m fine. Our kitchen, however is not; our sink is not draining properly and shit is coming up from the drain. I was wondering if you could give me the landlord’s email or number so we can call him to come fix it,” Haechan reveals. You furrow your brows and shake your head at him, thus confusing him.

“First of all, don’t call the landlord, he doesn’t know anything. Second of all, your sink is clogged, I’ll come fix it for you,” you tell him.

“What do you mean the landlord doesn’t know anything?” Haechan asks, put off by your comment.

“When I first moved in, our toilet had problems. So of course, I called the landlord to come fix it and he literally said he didn’t know what to do. Naturally, from that point, I learned how to fix everything since the landlord is useless,” you recount your story to Haechan. It’s at this point that Haechan starts second guessing his and his roommates’ decision to move into this apartment building.

“Are you sure--”

Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing, just give me a second to get my tools.” You close the door and return promptly, holding a simple toolbox with enthusiasm. Haechan gives you a strange look, but decides to see this through. If it’s a chance to spend time with you, he’s taking it.

“Alright, let’s go fix your kitchen sink!” you grin and close your door behind you as you determinedly march across the hall to Haechan’s place.

When you arrive, you quickly figure out what’s wrong and get to work. You open the cabinet doors that lead to the pipes under the counter and begin going through your toolbox to get the appropriate tools to fix the sink.

“Do you want to see how to fix this so next time you can do it yourself?” you suggest. Haechan blinks down at you as he thinks about his answer. On the one hand, he wants to stand and supervise you from a distance (an excuse to basically ogle your bare legs because of the denim shorts you were wearing), but on the other hand, he can be closer to you if he joins you under the sink.

“Hyuck?” Your use of his nickname snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah I’ll watch you work on my pipes,” Haechan says without thinking. You deadpan at him, his unintended euphemism not going over your head.

“Really?” you raise a brow at him.

“What?”

“‘Work on your pipes?’ Do you think I’m stupid?” you scoff. It takes Haechan a second to realize what you mean before his jaw is dropping. The initial shock fades into cheekiness as he leans against the counter with a smirk.

“That’s not what I meant, but I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to work on that pipe,” he winks at you and you roll your eyes.

“I’m taking back my offer to teach you how to fix your sink,” you say before ducking your upper body under the sink. Haechan pushes himself from the counter and ducks under the sink with you, despite you rescinding your offer.

“No takesies backsies,” he settles in next to you. It’s slightly cramped, but you try to focus on anything other than his close proximity to you.

“Fine, just don’t say dumb shit like that again,” you say quietly while you begin the process of fixing Haechan’s sink.

“No promises,” Haechan grins and you laugh softly at his antics.

You show Haechan what’s wrong with his sink and how to repair it. He pays close attention to your instructions, finding them to be fairly simple. For the last half of the process, you come out from under the sink and show him the last few steps of unclogging the sink. When you believe you’ve restored the sink to its former glory, you test the garbage disposal and run the water, making sure everything is drained. Much to Haechan’s surprise, you effectively fixed his sink.

“Damn...thank you. It works perfectly now,” He says in relief.

“Anytime. I also just want to point out that the previous tenant had a LOT of cats, so that’s probably why all that hair was in your pipes. I don’t know why she would put it down the sink though, that’s gross,” you scrunch your nose in disgust and Haechan chuckles.

“Yeah well we don’t have any cats, so it won’t happen again,” He tells you with a small smile. You return the smile and quickly lean down to recover your tools so you can make a swift exit back to your apartment. Haechan can’t quite explain why he felt so attracted to you while you unclogged his sink and explained how to do so. All he knew was that it was quite an experience for him to watch you become a plumber in his presence.

“So were you paying attention to the plumbing lesson? Because I’m not about to purposely clog another sink to teach you again,” you ask as he walks you back to your apartment.

“I was too busy getting distracted by your beauty and missed like a good chunk of the lesson, to be honest,” he joked. You stare up at him, shocked by his audacity, but all he does is give you a cocky smile in return.

“You--you’re--fuck you,” you say as you quickly enter your apartment and shut the door in Haechan’s face, not wanting him to see you in your flustered state.  He blinks at your door, bewildered at your reaction, but soon realizes it wasn’t negative in the slightest.

Haechan walks back to his apartment with pride and a puffed out chest.

↣

You’re thoroughly convinced that the universe wants to prove your roommates right and you wrong. This becomes apparent to you once again at the end of a shower, you turning your shower head off and reaching for your towel.

At first, you don’t hear it, but after turning off your speaker and wrapping your towel around your body, you step outside the bathroom and hear the blaring noise: the fire alarm.

“Fuck...nooooooo,” you whisper as you hang your head in defeat. You debate quickly going to your room and throwing on clothes, but you remember the fire drill rules of the building and reluctantly grab your keys, phone and slippers. You dash down a few flights of stairs to the lobby and exit promptly, heading over to the building meetup point where the other residents are, all while holding your towel close to your body.

When you arrive, you try to hide yourself from passersby by blending in with the other building residents. You’re in the clear, heaving out a sigh of relief...that is until you hear the devil’s voice from your right side.

“Well don’t you look pretty standing there in nothing but a bath towel. Mind if I sneak a peek?” Haechan croons as he saunters over to you with a cheeky smirk. You turn your head towards Haechan, greeting him with a displeased expression, only for him to send you a wink.

“Hi, Donghyuck,” you huff, and cross your arms, effectively keeping your towel wrapped around your body.

Haechan places his hand on his heart in fake hurt, “When you say my name like that, it hurts.”

“Oh really? How would you like me to say it then?” you roll your eyes. Haechan moves to stand behind you and leans down so his lips brush the shell of your ear and in the most nonchalant tone, he whispers:

“Loudly and with pleasure, baby.”

You can’t control the shivers that are sent down your spine at the pet name and Haechan looks down at you with pride at his work. You scowl at the fact that your body reacted to his teasing, but even more so that you don’t hate it as much as you’re letting on. You refuse to turn around because you know that you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back from either smiling at him or smacking him.

“Cat got your tongue, honey? Maybe you can put it to good use. Hm?” he pushes further and you can’t control yourself from whipping around and whacking his arm. The smile you’re so clearly fighting, though, tells him you’re not really mad at him.

“Shut up, you fucking dweeb, me being in a towel is not an invitation for you to hit on me nor is it a ploy to get you into bed,” you hiss at him and all he does is bite his lower lip softly and stick his hands in his front pockets.

“You’re the one who said not to give you a reason to remain strangers, and I always go the extra mile for people I consider…‘friends’,” he uses your past words against you. You gape in surprise at how cunning Haechan is and you wish you could slap the smug smile right off his face. You’re more mad at yourself for how his flirting is actually working and eliciting a reaction from you, especially a reaction from under your towel and between your legs. You can’t prove your roommates right, especially because you know they’d give you shit if they found out you actually did like Haechan.

“You’re insufferable,” you whisper just as the landlord announces that you’re allowed to come back into the building. You quickly stalk off toward the building, leaving Haechan alone to watch your retreating figure in admiration.

It’s only a matter of time before your resolve breaks...and he’s going to be there when it happens.

↣

You don’t see Haechan for another couple of days, which makes you a little more sad than you’d like to admit. You even go so far as to ask Renjun where Haechan was, mildly worried that Haechan was sick...or even lost interest in you. You swear Renjun to secrecy though, knowing that if Haechan finds out you asked about him, you’d never hear the end of it.

When you finally do see him, it’s on the elevator, on your way home from school. It’s silent as the elevator doors close the two of you into the space. After a few beats, haechan finally speaks.

“I hear you asked about me,” he says, fighting off a smirk. You sigh and make a mental note to kill Renjun the next time you see him.

“Yeah I hadn’t been annoyed in a few days so I just wanted to see why it was so quiet,” you roll your eyes and look over at Haechan to find that he’s already looking at you.

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” he shrugs nonchalantly and goes back to waiting for the elevator to arrive at your floor.

“So…?”

“So what?”

“Where were you?”

Haechan gives you a surprised look, but answers anyway, “I was studying for a midterm, snoopy. I have to keep my grades up you know.”

“Oh...well...I hope you pass,” you tell him, and a warm smile appears on his lips.

“I did. With flying colors. Thanks though,” he says back and before you can respond, the elevator dings and the doors open. Haechan files out first and you follow suit, reluctant to go back to your own apartment for some reason. No one is there, you know that for a fact. Before you take out your keys, you glance back at Haechan, who is standing motionless at his door, his back facing you.

“Haechan,” you call out, your lips moving before your brain can formulate thoughts. He turns back to you, wide-eyed and curious about why you said his name.

“Yeah?” He asks as he starts to inch closer to your end of the corridor.

“I…” you begin, but the rest of the words don’t come out. As Haechan gets closer, he can see your face more clearly, and the look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. Being ever so impatient, he doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence and backs you up against your door, his lips (finally) feverishly connecting with yours.

Your eyes shut immediately as Haechan takes control and kisses you with hunger and desire. He places one hand on your waist and one hand caresses your cheek, not intending to let you go anywhere. He swipes his tongue on your lower lip and you allow him access almost immediately. You don’t know why you’re mildly surprised that Haechan is a phenomenal kisser, but that thought and any other lingering ones fade as his hands travel to your hips and grip them rather harshly. You gasp softly against his lips as he increases the pressure on your hips, and he takes the opportunity to begin kissing your neck, creating marks where his lips touch.

While Haechan concentrates on your neck, you quickly try to search your bag with only your sense of touch to find your keys to let the two of you in.

Haechan grabs them from you, breaking away from you for a split second to unlock and open the door. Once that is accomplished, he places his lips back on yours and ushers you into your apartment. His kissing gets more insistent and rough as he shuts the door behind him.

Articles of clothing trail behind the two of you as you advance to your room. By the time you arrive, the two of you are fighting for dominance through your making out. It gets so intense that you have to break away for air. The two of you stand chest to chest, half-naked and panting.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks breathlessly. His hands rest on your hips and give them a light squeeze just for kicks. Your breath hitches in your throat and Haechan notices and smirks.

“I’m just...” you begin but Hyuck squeezes your hips again and you let out a small whimper.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he teases you.

“Shut up,” you pry his hands off your hips and push him back to your bed before straddling his thighs. “You’re not the only one who likes to be in charge, Hyuck.”

Haechan smirks from below you and hooks his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down slowly.

“Oh sweetheart,” he pauses when he has taken your panties completely off, “don’t you know I can still have control from under you?”

“Huh?” you ask, but Haechan’s response is one of action. He slips his boxers down his legs, situates his cock in line with your entrance and pulls you down on him until he’s buried to the hilt. You both let out harmonious moans simultaneously, the stretch of his cock oh-so-satisfying and the wet warmth of your pussy giving him goosebumps. While you were mildly disgruntled you didn’t get to see his cock first, you felt like it was unnecessary at this point considering you could feel his size from inside your pussy.

“Fuck you‘re so wet, I knew you wanted to fuck me,” he hisses.

“How the hell...are you…?” You begin.

“This big? Why, don’t think you can handle it?” Haechan smugly asks.

“Just...fucking move, Hyuck,” you grunt, “or I will.”

“Baby’s so desperate for my cock she won’t wait for me to fuck her? What, you’re gonna fuck yourself on my cock?” Haechan teases you, but you take it as a challenge and promptly begin riding him.

“You...asked for it,” you smirk at him.

“Fuck...you feel so good,” Haechan praises you and you beam at him. You lean down and begin pressing open mouthed kisses along his neck, kisses which soon turn into hickeys. Haechan has to admit that it feels good to be treated like this. Like a king.

“Who’s in charge now, brat?” You whisper in his ear and Haechan’s gaze darkens. He brings his hands back to your hips and grips them so you stop in place.

“I am,” he responds before roughly thrusting up into you, “it’s my game, I always win.”

Haechan pistons his hips against yours and moan after moan spills from your lips. Every yelp of his name, mixed in with swears and incomprehensible sounds, pushes Haechan to go harder.

“Shit, Hyuck, I’m...I’m so close,” you mewl and grip his shoulders to steady yourself. Under normal circumstances, Haechan would edge you to no end, but he’s been waiting for this since the moment you told him that you didn’t want to be strangers. He was going to be self-indulgent just this once.

Haechan’s thrusting gets sloppier as you both get close to your highs. Finally you come undone around his cock, your walls hugging him so tight, it makes it harder for him to keep going. Haechan takes an immeasurable amount of self control to not cum inside of you (especially since he got ahead of himself and forgot to slip on a condom). After a couple more thrusts, he pulls you off of him and cums across his own stomach, chest heaving as he comes down from his high. You take a dollop of his cum on your finger and suck it off, making eye contact with him just to taunt him further.

“Get on my face,” he commands.

“What?”

“Get on, sit on, I don't care just get up here,” he grabs your thighs. At your lack of action, he pulls you up so your core is hovering above his lips.

“Hyuck, I don’t think I can take—Oh my fuck,” your plea is cut short by Haechan’s lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harshly on it.

Haechan is not done proving who is in charge—and that he’s perfectly capable of fucking you from beneath you—and decides to have a feast to treat himself.

His tongue expertly navigates your pussy, switching between tongue fucking your entrance and stimulating your clit. All you can hear are lewd slurping sounds and your cries of pleasure. Haechan hums into your clit and the vibrations send electricity throughout your body.

“Hyuck...Hyuck do that again please,” you beg him while lightly tugging his hair. Haechan surprisingly complies, but instead of simply humming, he lightly growls into your pussy, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. It isn’t until Haechan gives your clit one harsh suck that you’re coming onto his face. He quickly slurps up your release before working on your pussy again.

He puts you through two more orgasms before he’s pushing you off of his face and onto your bed. He crosses his arms behind his head in satisfaction before he glances over at you. Your legs are still trembling and your eyes are closed in an attempt to regain your composure and breath.

“I’ll let you catch your breath before the next round,” he tells you and you open your eyes to give him a playful glare.

“Who said we were going multiple rounds?”

“Fine, I’ll go then.”

“No, wait!”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.”

↣

“Okay just be really quiet, I’m sure they’re home now and I cannot have them seeing you here.”

“I can’t believe you’re sneaking me out of your apartment, this is not high school, why can’t I just walk out of here?”

“Because then my roommates will be right and I don’t want them to clown me for giving into you.”

“You say that like sleeping with me was a bad thing,” Haechan raises an eyebrow as you escort him quietly to your front door.

“It wasn’t, but when you guys first moved in, I may have made a big deal of being uninterested in you and they like to prove me wrong. Just work with me here,” you explain.

“Oh how the tables turn. I’m sure you wouldn’t want them to know how eager you were for my—” Haechan begins but you place your hand on his face to shush him.

“I wouldn’t, so shut up,” you tell him as you make it to your front door.

“It’s gonna be a little harder for you to sneak me out when we do this again, y’know,” Haechan tells you while you open the door.

“Again? Why do you say that with so much certainty?” You ask him with a mischievous smile.

“Because I know it’s gonna happen again, please,” he scoffs and you softly laugh. Haechan smiles at the sound of your laugh and hopes that the next time he does come back, he gets to know you a little more before you sleep with each other again.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” you cross your arms with a shy smile, “now go home.”

“Until next time,” Haechan leans down and places a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning toward his door across the hall. You close the door as Haechan goes into his apartment and lean against the door, processing what just happened.

Haechan was right: you were going to need to be more sneaky the next time he was over.

[mcheang]

Exclusive

Edna Mode was a renowned designer, famed for her harsh but accurate critiques, her fierce and practical lines, and of course, being the designer of the majority of superheroes.

And now she was hosting a fashionista gala, inviting those worthy of a Mode gala. As for those asking for an invite, Edna just asks who they are and calls security.

Lila, as the self-proclaimed BFF of Ladybug, and Gabriel’s muse, had already boasted of receiving the glamorous invitation. It didn’t just come in an envelope, it came out of the sky in a rosewood chest, accompanied by a bottle of wine and canapés. (Or so she says. Adrien and Marinette rolled their eyes. Chloé wasn’t paying attention)

Alya: Girl, I’m so jealous. But hey, maybe this will be a good thing. After all, Adrien is going with Kagami. Chloe will just stick with her mom. That means it’s a chance for you and Marinette to know each other better.

Oh yeah, did I mention that everyone knows Marinette is MDC?

Lila forced a grin but didn’t want to make any promises.

Imagine Lila’s rage to know she wasn’t given an invite because she was just a model. Adrien was the heir to a fashion company. She was not.

With all the bragging Lila did, she can’t back out or Chloe and Marinette will call out her absence. (Chloé learned about Lila being a guest from Sabrina later from gossiping)

So, she stole Marinette’s invitation. She did some editing and made her own customised invite, brandishing it for her class to see.

Marinette saw her invitation missing, rolled her eyes and reported the theft to Edna. Plz, everyone knows Edna invited her. She didn’t really need a piece of expensive paper.

The day of the gala arrived, and Lila brought out her invite.

The guard looked at his clipboard. “You’re not on the list.”

Lila: No, but I do have an invite. Obviously someone must have made a mistake with your list.

The guard snorted. “If that’s the case, then your fingerprints and eye scans should have already been registered. That’s what opens the doors.“

Lila gulped and thought about sneaking in with the next guest. But no such luck. Security made sure one person entered at a time.

As the security guard moved to push Lila back into the crowd of fans, Lila cried out that she knows Ladybug and Gabriel.

Guard: what’s your point?

Lila: You’ll be fired for this!

Guard: Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this all before.

Another guard just scoffed. “You’re only a model. One of many in the industry. Miss Mode doesn’t care for models.”

Lila: what are models if not the face of fashion?

“Spoiled, stupid little stick figures with poofy lips who think only of themselves” Edna herself was at the entrance, wondering what was causing the disruption in her guest entrance flow.

Lila: How can you say that? Then why would Ladybug be my Best Friend?

Edna: the day Ladybug says she is your Best Friend is the day I wear crocs. And I don’t mean crocodile leather.

Edna points at a random guard. “You, get this so-called model out of the way. She is blocking the queue.

Oh by the way, Edna calling out Lila was caught on camera by the reporters.

One of them questioned why she was kicking out Gabriel’s muse when his son, a supermodel himself, was invited.

Edna: I did not invite the boy because of his face. I invited him because I saw potential (basically she realized he was Chat Noir. She would never invite Adrien otherwise. As seen from her quote, she doesn’t have a high opinion of models) That is, if he ever gets out of his father’s shadow. Because, let’s face it darling, what can Adrien do besides look pretty and play with swords and piano? You would think the boy would be in part of business meetings, but no. At this rate, Gabriel needs this gala to get out of that stuffy house. Realize that maybe his parenting methods are flawed compared to some other talented figures here. Look at Miss Kagami, focused on upholding her family legacy of fencing. MDC already knows how to run her own business after learning a bit from her parents. Even Audrey’s daughter has been joining in on becoming a fashion critic and throwing parties for political parties. But I must go, my guests await.

Back inside the party, guests were avoiding a seething Gabriel’s eyes. He had come to scout out the superhero guests, only to be called out by Edna on live tv.

Marinette went up to Edna and asked one of her fashion idols why she burned the Agrestes in public.

Edna: do you think Gabriel would change his parenting ways if we did not expose them to the influential figures of this industry, as well as the public eye? I guarantee you Adrien will be allowed more freedom of choice, lest Gabriel wants his son to be known as a coddled boy who can’t even make his own decisions.

Edna didn’t bother softening her sharp voice as she says these words.

Adrien flushed.

Quickly changing the subject, Marinette asked why Edna hated models.

Edna: it’s not that I hate them personally. I just hate their jobs and what they represent. Models nowadays are beautiful only according to the world standards. People who see them want to be like them, never mind that the models they see on the screen are airbrushed to unrealistic and impossible perfection. Now models focus only on their own appearance, trying to maintain their beauty as time ages them. They go on diets and become superficial. Whereas outside the modelling industry or such like, you don’t need to be stereotypically beautiful to be worthy. Where your worth is measured in kindness and bravery and talent and intelligence and anything beyond superficiality.

Adrien overheard and he frowned, not liking the idea where his appearance on ads is not exactly right. He only joined the company to make his father happy. But maybe it’s time he stepped into the business side of things and exit the modelling world. Bonus: no more Lila!

Edna snorted, “Though I must admit Gabriel surprised me with his newest model. Her attitude is lousy but she doesn’t strike me as a model. She just doesn’t have that model walk. But enough about the old man, my dear MDC, let’s talk about you. I love your gender-neutral line. And was wondering if you would like to join me in creating my next line of clothes for the Incredibles. A rare opportunity but I like style. Now take this offer before I change my mind.”

Marinette: wait, do I have to fly over or-

Edna: you are too excited, darling, but don’t worry, my assistants will send you the details.

Why are the Incredibles getting a new look? The kids are growing up and Edna wanted to move on to new styles.

As Marinette was flabbergasted, Audrey congratulated her for landing the job. Kagami and Adrien also beamed at her good fortune.

Even the Incredibles admitted they looked forward to working with her. Violet was a big fan.

Gabriel was seething and thought about akumatizing himself but come on, one villain against a room of superheroes? No thanks.

Drinking a glass of wine, he eventually admits that Edna had a point, however loudly and rudely it had been announced.

He would not be around forever and he wanted to leave the company in Adrien’s hands. In order for that to happen, his son needs to know business (if he can’t design, he can hire designers)

And yes, Lila was a lousy model. She survived by shooting with professional models who managed to overpower her mediocre work. But a deal was a deal. Besides, her contract was only for a year.

After the gala, Adrien happily quit modelling (aka Lila) to spend more time with his father, learning about how to run a company.

Marinette and Edna proudly claimed credit for the fashionable Incredibles.

Violet also became the talk of the school for her MDC exclusives.

Lila had been humiliated on air. Alya hesitated but finally did her research. At the end, she collapsed over the ruined credibility of her blog. But she can still get revenge by informing the principal, Ms Bustier and Mrs Rossi what Lila lied about. The perks of being a class vice president for a busy class president is that she also has the contacts list for emergencies.

Considering how Lila framed Marinette, there would be no suspension or detention. Only expulsion. Good luck finding a new school when Edna’s gala was a global topic.

When Lila returned to school for her last week (it takes time to gather evidence and get the attention of busy adults), nobody wanted to talk to her or even exchange glances. She quietly kept to herself, hoping for this to blow over soon. She was still a model working for Gabriel. She could befriend other supermodels (as if. Like they would want to befriend her after Edna called her out)

Hell, even her jobs were down. Gabriel just told her to take test shoots to fill up her portfolio until the hype died down (aka her contract expired)

When Lila was expelled, she was ready to be akumatized into Chameleon again. Except one problem. Everyone avoided her like hell so how could she kiss her target. Even Adrien was told to stay away lest his reputation be tarnished.

Ok, I admit it. I was hit by “I’m no Angel” quotes as I wrote this. But seriously, does anyone feel weird at the idea of trying to become thinner when your weight is just right, all the while you know there are people out there even thinner than you are and are starving, not because they want to be stereotypically thin, but because they cannot afford food?

[writefightandflightclub]

At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac​

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl​ @anetteaneta​ @stardustkenobi​ @casifer-is-king​ @foxilayde​ @tlcwrites​ @aellynera​ @kindablackenedsuperhero​

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for. 

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you. 

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.” 

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.” 

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room. 

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex-  must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?” 

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit. 

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

[ratcandy]

Subcon Forest Analysis

Hi everyone I'm here to spill my aggressive overflowing thoughts on Subcon Forest and what it represents because it's been driving me insane since I finished the Sleepy Subcon time rift. Okay let's go. Obvious spoilers for AHIT ahead so proceed with caution.

This is also very, very long.

Disclaimer/warning: I will be discussing abusive/unhealthy relationships in this analysis. I mean. Vanessa. Come on. Also, there is a section on the nooses, and that delves, of course, into mentions of suicide. It will be sectioned off and easily skipped, but if you'd rather be safe and skip the entire post, that's completely understandable! Please stay safe. <3

Alright. Main point to be had here:

Subcon Forest is a giant extended metaphor for Snatcher's mind and character.

You all get to now listen to me spout nonsense about metaphors and symbolism because I'm a sucker for analysis and I'm given an opportunity to go ham. So perish.

The Ice

Let's start with the most obvious and most glaring thing in Subcon. The ice. It's everywhere. Not just outside Vanessa's manor, either; no, it's throughout the village, too. Shows up in the well and in random locations sprinkled about. When it comes to literal plot, we know that ice is just what lingers after Vanessa's wintery curse on Subcon. But going deeper and analyzing the meaning behind it?

Well, let's look at this from the perspective I've suggested. Subcon Forest being an extended metaphor for Snatcher's mind and character. A symbol for Vanessa then litters his mind, enough where it's certainly noticeable at first but blends in more easily once more of Subcon is unlocked to Hat Kid. This is clearly meant to be his lingering trauma, whether or not he wants to acknowledge it. Which he doesn't, as he never mentions it directly in his forest (that I can recall). Her influence plagues him, as to be expected with the traumatic experiences he went through with her. Breaking the ice is something Hat Kid must do in order to fulfill the wishes of the Fire Spirits (another subject I'll get into shortly), which, if self-indulgently playing with the found family idea, could mean that Hat Kid is helping him heal; if indirectly. Even if fulfilling the Fire Spirits' wish to die is... counterproductive, in that measure, which I'm now getting ahead of myself so hold on a sec!!

Vanessa. Ice. Everywhere. Traces of it all over his forest. That's the effects of an abusive relationship! Especially in a worst-case scenario where... yknow! One party in the relationship dies! So of course ice would be everywhere.

In and of itself, ice is a common symbol in literature and other forms of media. In this case, it's presented as an antagonistic force; emphasis is placed upon freezing and the harm that comes with it. The cold is unwelcoming, threatening, merciless. Snow can act as an insulating force, at least, but ice cannot. It can only make things colder.

A slight stretch: Seeing as this game deals a lot with time shenaniganry, I'm not sure if it'd be too out of left field to connect "freezing" with the theme of time. Yknow. Frozen in time. Both parties here, Snatcher and Vanessa, would be in this frozen state. One largely repressing it and never fully moving on, and the other doomed to her isolation ever since the event in question. They never moved past that moment after the Prince and florist's interaction.

The Fire Spirits (& the Portraits)

I'll put a slight warning here for suicidal ideation, if only because... it's the Fire Spirits we're talking about. It's not as grossly in-detail as the noose discussion will be, though, so make of that what you will.

To me, the Fire Spirits are a very interesting case. After all, they're fire. They're a direct contrast to the ice, thus being the only thing we're shown that could potentially melt it. The Fire Spirits, in my opinion, represent hope or a strength to continue. A strength to move on after troubles of the past.

...And that hope wants to die.

The Fire Spirits wish to burn out, to leave this mortal coil and abandon the forest to the cold. They make no effort to melt the ice, they simply dance, blissfully ignorant towards their surroundings. This being a metaphor for Snatcher's own hope for moving on is made all the more obvious by the fact he wants them gone. The first contract is to kill the Fire Spirits, to kill the hope. Perhaps he believes that sort of thing to be fruitless or naïve, so it only clutters his mind or has him foolishly optimistic at points. So, get rid of it. And the hope is happy to oblige.

(That, or their willingness to leave the forest to its own suffering and not aid in the ice's thaw angers him. Besides the whole "bark bark growl I can't get to parts of my forest because of them!!" which... also could represent a naïve hope clouding his judgement, not allowing him to see a bigger picture. But hope can't all be lost if one wants to move forward...)

A little side-tangent now on the portraits! And it's another slight stretch but the idea is in my head and I can't let it go. Portraits are another common symbol, usually being a physical representation of a memory or idea. For our purposes, let's say they're memories. I know in canon they appear to just hold souls captive or something but for now we're just Ignoring That(tm). The Fire Spirits have to burn the portraits to disappear. See where I'm going with this, maybe?

Instead of handling bad memories (or perhaps memories of the past in general) in any healthy manner, Snatcher chooses to forget/repress them, which just allows his hope to progressively die out.

I'm really hoping this is making sense because it makes a lot of sense to me but I might be insane rn

The Fact that this is a Forest

Forest symbolism breakdown! What's a forest usually mean in literature? "Traditionally, the forest has come to represent being lost, exploration and potential danger as well as mystery and 'other worldliness'." Okay. Yeah. Fair enough. That certainly works with the whole aesthetic we've got going on. Wood usually is life, growth and strength. But the trees of subcon are all dead. So what about that? It stands for death, big whoop, very spooky, we know Snatcher's dead and so are the children, yadda yadda wowie wowie. But. :) The trees in Subcon look a lot like trees that were scorched in a forest fire. Don't believe me?

(You could also argue they're just regular marsh/swamp trees bUT SSHHSUUHSH HANG ON HEAR ME OUT LOOK LOOK,)

What I believe to have happened was a controlled fire to rid the forest of the majority of its ice and snow. Likely done by Snatcher. It leaves behind a very desolate, depressing, barren scene... but. What else do dead/burnt trees symbolize? Rebirth. After all, controlled fires happen to make way for new trees to take the place of old ones. Some trees only drop seeds in fires/hot temperatures, so new ones take root and begin anew. Weird. It's almost like... I dunno. Snatcher was given some sorta second chance, given he's not just a corpse in Vanessa's cellar. So were the subconites. Another life given then by Snatcher. All connected I tell ya!!

Generally, aside from that, forests have many connotations. Mystery, isolation, claustrophobia; a place to dwell on regrets, or the past; to worry over one's future; to seek escape from or escape inside of... hmgmrnmm!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- T / W -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Nooses

The t/w is given at the top and another cut-off point will follow the bottom of this, for those that would like to skip. This will delve into talk of suicide and abusive tactics used by abusers. Please don't read if it will upset you or make you feel unsafe!!!

Personally, I cannot stand the nooses, but that's just due to my own triggers. Were there a way to hide those from the game or replace the damned talking ones with anything else. I would take it. In a heartbeat. But I can still appreciate the potential analysis to be had with them. So now i'm gonna talk about it despite how uncomfortable it will make me to do so. yEa

So, what about 'em? There are three types of nooses seen in Subcon. At least that I remember but I didn't really go looking for them. Empty ones, ones containing empty subconites, and the talking ones.

Nooses in general obviously can hint towards suicidal thoughts or behaviors of the characters that interact with them. If saying Subcon is Snatcher's mind, it could suggest that he suffered from some sort of suicidal thoughts in life (or currently, if second death is possible... or if he never truly died... or maybe he's trying to figure that out...which has given me... a separate idea...uh oh). But. And hear me out. Different perspective.

A talking noose. I hate them with a fiery passion that is unmatched. But think of the packed symbolism of a noose that talks. And think more about what it says. "I wouldn't mind being strapped around a cute neck like yours." "Be careful now, I don't want to see you meet a miserable end anywhere, but with me." Oddly, a lot of what the noose says seems almost... endearing? One could argue it's a way of luring someone to put it around their necks, which in and of itself is a whole lot to unpack when it comes to suicidal thoughts beckoning one forward; painting itself as something romantic, almost. But. Here's a wild idea, now. What if the nooses, at least the talking ones, are another symbol for Vanessa?

They're tinted blue, after all. While Vanessa's scheme is more red, one could argue two things: One, ice. Blue. Ice. yeah. Or two, the fact that Snatcher's scheme is more purple. Blue and red... make... purple. So, for all we know, Snatcher's current state was a compound effort between suicidal thoughts and Vanessa's treatment of him. Perhaps he even found a way to put himself out of his misery before freezing/starving to death. (I know he has dialogue that argues against that, but... are we certain Snatcher would be the kind to admit suicide over freezing to death?... I don't think so.)

At any rate, a common threat by those in "control" of an abusive relationship is that of killing themselves should the other person not do as they desire. It's a cruel form of emotional manipulation to get their way, worse off if the other party is an empathetic individual. As a person who has been the empathetic individual in relationships like this... I would know. I've been here, unfortunately So, it's not completely out of the question to say Vanessa could've used some tactic like that, even before the whole... cellar ordeal. Did she? I dunno. I'm tossing ideas around. But if she did, the threats of such would sit around in the Prince's mind easily. Even if she has a reputation of not going through with it. It doesn't matter. That shit sticks with you forever, that scare, the potential of it ever being true, is horrifying and it ruins you. I'm projecting, Squirtle.

Still. A noose cannot hang itself. It has to have a victim.

...yea.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- T / W PASSED -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Misc. Ideas

- The spiders: Aside from the usual things spiders can be chalked up to symbolizing - toxicity, alluring danger, just... general pain - I like the potential wordplay that can happen here. Yknow. A black widow. Say the Prince and Vanessa were married when one died. What would that leave Vanessa? A widow. ...She's red and black, too. Yknow. Like a black widow. HA wordplay is fun isn't it?

- Snatcher's tree: Love this place, love sitting in here. But not the point! The inside of Snatcher's tree is such a harsh juxtaposition to the rest of Subcon that it kinda throws ya off guard. After all, the dark, purples and blues then contrasted with the bright warm colors of the inside. Even the music switches over. The thorns outside aren't present indoors. Ohh yeah this is gonna be on the nose as hell but the Tree(tm) is 100% representing Snatcher's appearance/put-on personality vs. his truer nature. Spooky outside with thorns, foreboding, unwelcoming. Then the more comfortable interior. VULnerable. Have I even mentioned that the tree is HOLLOW I mean COME ON. The sturdiness of that tree? Nonexistent. He's not a sturdy guy at all no matter how he fronts

- Intrusions are unwelcome: Snatcher does not like the fact that Hat Kid sticks around in his forest. His personal space. His mind. In fact he tries desperately to get rid of her after their fight, not wanting her presence in his forest at all. He has no problem providing more contracts later on with the Death Wish thing, and he finds great entertainment in messing around with Hat Kid, so it's not just a weird sudden hatred he has for her; it's the fact that. After she's finished being useful, he no longer wants her around, lest she find some things she shouldn't find. Now he's just uncomfortable with her in his personal boundaries. Could just be a denial that she's helped him heal (breaking ice, stealing from Vanessa, being something interesting for his kids to interact with) or just not really wanting a child to get wrapped up in. All that. Most likely the former. Considering the amount of joke-hints he drops regarding his background during his Death Wish dialogue. I see you funny man, making jokes out of your trauma as a coping mechanism. Punts him

Annnd I think that's all I got, for now! I'll make an update post if I get any more sporadic ideas. If you read this whole thing, thank you!! and also!! Wow that was a lot!! Hell world. Please feel free to elaborate on any of my points or debate with me on em!! I'm always open to other ideas, just be aware that if I disagree I am not shy when it comes to debate hehehe, tho I won't be aggressive to any extent I prommy!!

Alrighty. goes to sleep goodnight

[secretshinigami]

Meet you under the sun

Author: @lightlessons For: @danthegeek Pairings/Characters: Light Yagami/L Lawliet, Misa Amane, Kiyomi Takada. Rating/Warnings: M. Mature language, Swear words, Alcohol consumption.  Prompt: AU Light is a popular Collage Student and invited to a beach party. He is having a lot of fun, is flirty and arrogant as we know him. He is dancing with Misa, who is not his girlfriend but has a crush on him. Then, L joins the party, somebody brought him along. He is chilling awkwardly by the buffet when Light takes notice of him and joins him at the buffet. He has seen him before a couple times on the campus, but never talked to him. What happens next is up to you…

Author’s notes: I bent the specifics a bit in that I had Light talk to L  just a bit after seeing him instead of immediately, because i felt it fit the pacing I had better. Hope it’s still okay though :-) 

—————————–

“Don’t tell me you’re a Beach Volleyball junior champion too,” Takada joked after Light obliterated (yet again) a team of what appeared to be sociology majors, or something equally pointless, she had that small, half-hearted smile that was so characteristic of hers but with the slight frown of someone who isn’t used to being impressed.

Light laughed humbly. 

“I’m not. Maybe my experience with tennis helps somewhat? But I’ve really never played it before.”

His classmate sighed, and Light thought that being constantly made aware of his numerous skills had to be tiring for her. “You must be just naturally talented then,” she supposed as she fixed her hair behind her ear in a strange bashful gesture that must mean she was finally surrendering over to Light’s natural charm, as one would expect. 

“Or those two are just awful,” Light smirked conspiratorially. 

The young bourgeois laughed, which was what Light was hoping to achieve. Takada always enjoyed laughing at other people’s expense.

Light wasn’t much of a fan of the beach. There was too much sand getting into bad places and too many people acting as if the transition from monkey to hominid had never been made. Too much noise and too much sun and too many girls asking him to slather them with sun blocker, as if he’d pop a boner over touching their skinny naked backs. But, if there was something he’d learned from a very young age was the importance of having good public relations, and so when Kiyomi Takada had invited him to an exclusive beach party, he knew he wouldn’t say no to the daughter of the Sankei Newspaper’s owner. He’d gone into To-Doh not just looking for a quality education after all but in the hope of forming good connections too. 

And this party, filled with Tokyo’s most important youth, was a perfect opportunity to start rubbing shoulders. Light was young and attractive and athletic, perfectly composed to be like a bug zapper for these kinds of things. 

Plus, the lively music and the three margaritas he’d already had were kinda getting to him. 

“LIIIIIIIIGHT!!!” A familiar voice suddenly screeched from somewhere behind him. 

Oh dear God. 

Five feet of blond supermodel darted towards him through the small crowd of spectators that had formed for the match. Misa Amane, bimbo extraordinaire, had finally shown up to the party in all her unbridled glory. 

“Oh, that was so cool! You’re always so cool, Light,” she proclaimed with shiny eyes while all the other men around and some of the women ogled her in her small two-piece red bikini with a blackthorns and vines pattern, as characteristic of the gothic style she favored. 

Now, Light didn’t dislike Misa. She was cute in a very whiny-cat kind of way. Sort of endearing at first but jarring as the volume increased and the minutes went on. The first time they met she’d claimed she felt a cosmological affinity towards him or some such bullshit and then proceeded to interrogate him for his zodiac, moon, and rising sign, whatever the hell that meant–he hadn’t been paying attention. She was useful, though, in that she was somewhat famous and happily willing to do him any favors, or connect him with any of her large contact lists, even when he’d already been clear about not being interested in any non-friendly relation with her (using the hardships that came to celebrities’ partners as an excuse), he was a gentleman, after all, and he wouldn’t toy with a woman’s feelings. 

“Hey Misa,” Light gave her an easy smile that would hopefully settle her for the rest of the day. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere for the past week! Where have you been hiding? Not with Kiyomi, I hope!”

Takada at his side made an affronted sound that seemed to choke on the way up her throat. 

“Behave, Misa. I’ve told you I’m not your property,” Light belittled her with only mild sternness. 

Misa shook her head enthusiastically. 

“Misa is only teasing, Light! She promises! Besides, Kiyomi and I have started getting along since Spanish class. Haven’t we, Kiyomi?" 

Kiyomi seemed startled for a moment, as if she didn’t expect Misa to call her out like that, but recovered quickly to settle her face into her usual cold mask of indifference. 

“I suppose so.” 

“Aw, don’t be like that. We even planned a fake trip to Playa del Carmen together! Oh, Light, you should join us!” 

“I’m taking Korean.” 

“Not in class, silly, on the trip!” 

"Right… then I happen to be busy around that time of year,” he joked, throwing a smirk at Takada and earning the most formal of snorts he’d heard. 

"Miss Amane does have a fondness for fantasizing,” Takada replied instead, like a ready viper waiting for the perfect moment to strike at her victims. Oh, there’s no need to be mean with her, Kiyomi. 

The implications seemed to get lost on the blonde, however. 

“Pfft, you’re no fun. I’ll borrow him for a bit, Kiyomi. Clearly he needs a little loosening up, and you’re not exactly a party animal, are you?” 

Before Kiyomi could reply Misa had already taken Light’s arm and dragged him to the bar for more drinks. Light had to admit, the cocktails options were impressive, and he sort of wanted to try everything on the menu, but in the end, following the beach spirit, he and Misa both ordered a piña colada, and while usually, he wasn’t a fan of too much sweet in his alcohol, the fresh taste felt like a blessing under the hot summer sun, enough that soon he found himself chatting amicably with Misa and even had to catch himself from -dear God- giggling at something she said. 

Such was his mildly buzzed state when a sight at the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Turning around, he understood why. A black-haired man was standing under a palm tree and sipping at his own colada, with his back very badly curved in an awful posture and huge eyes fixed somewhere on the sand. Weirdly enough, he was wearing jeans to the beach with only a loose tank top to combat the scorching weather, and still, his wild mop of hair was the most recognizable part of him, which was in itself something, as Light had never in his life seen someone more particular. He’d seen the other boy around campus a handful of times before, but there had never been an opportunity for him to approach him, even though Light had always felt an inexplicably strong pull for him to ask him about his name. 

Misa loudly calling his name made him realize he’d been staring. 

“Misa, do you know who that is?”

Misa squinted in the direction of Light’s eyes, face lighting up with recognition. 

“Of course! That’s Ryuzaki! He’s actually the inheritor of Wammy’s Co. But not many people know about that,” the model smirked like she was telling the juiciest gossip. “People like Takada probably think he sticks out like a sore thumb around here. But the truth is, he’s got more money than any of us combined.” Light’s ears perked up at that. “He’s also one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet, and I’ve met you, Light. I don’t know who invited him, though. Let’s ask him! Hey, Ryuzaki!!" 

The odd student turned around towards the voice calling him and tilted his head to the side in silent interrogation. 

The boy’s assemblage of quirks brought a smile to his face. He hadn’t allowed himself to think it before, but he had always thought the student was rather cute even with how little he knew of him. 

“Who invited you?!” 

Light winced and glared at Misa for how carelessly she had posed such a question, but Ryuzaki didn’t seem the least bit faced and instead cupped a hand near his mouth like a mock-megaphone and shouted: “I just came for the desserts!” with a wide-eyed expression that gave no indication whatsoever of if he was teasing or not. 

Misa laughed like she’d heard the best joke ever and Light just blinked in the boy’s direction.

“Isn’t he a blast?” She hollered as Ryuzaki’s eyes met his.

It was hard for Light to describe those few seconds, but for one single moment, the strings holding his soul together seemed to vibrate at a different tune than they’d played previously. He was unsure if he shivered, but he had to break the eye contact like some damned school girl to pull himself back together. 

Why did his face feel warm all of a sudden? 

"Ooh, I love this song! Let’s dance, Light!” Misa interrupted his thoughts again with a squeal.

“Uhh, sure, yeah…" 

×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×

Dancing was decidedly not as fun unless you had a certain amount of alcohol in your body. Or at least, that was Light’s opinion on the matter. Who’d enjoy several hours of mindlessly moving your body unless somehow inebriated? That’s why Light had to drink another two mimosas to keep up with dancing with Misa for five songs straight, not because he was somewhat shaken up about the guy with the bird’s nest hair and the absent look –Ryuzaki, his brain provided– and certainly not because he was figuring out how to approach him. 

He separated from Misa when the sun was already setting, bathing the sea with a last warm goodbye. Everyone at the beach stopped for a moment to marvel at it, but Light only had eyes for Ryuzaki, who was… nowhere to be seen, sending Light into a momentary panic. 

He almost slapped himself when he found him below the parasol housing the buffet. It was what Ryuzaki had said before about the only reason for coming to the party. Normally, he would have remembered, which only meant Light’s brain wasn’t behaving as fast as it normally would. It couldn’t be that he’d have too much to drink, could it? 

Alright, be smooth, Yagami. 

“Hello!” Light chirped with a wide grin, planting himself beside the strange boy who was staring at the lines of sweets like they were study material. 

Ryuzaki turned to him with a blink. 

That had come higher than intended. 

"We, uh, are in the same faculty? I’ve seen you around 345.”

“Light Yagami. Second-year Criminal Justice major. You’re the son of detective-superintendent Soichiro Yagami of the NPA." 

"Um.”

“You respect and admire your father greatly and your intention is to become the deputy director of the NPA. You’re as ambitious as you are clever.”

“Why do you-”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re aware of how popular you are around here, word goes around. You’re not the only one I have this sort of information on." 

Light wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring. 

At the very least, that introduction had sobered him up. 

The other student was appraising him with a curious gaze, as he was starting to learn he looked at pretty much everything. 

"Is that the way you introduce yourself to everyone?" 

"Hmm. Yes, usually. I told you. You’re not special in that regard.”

“In what regard am I special, then?” Light asked cheekily. 

“That’s not-”

But he didn’t let him finish before walking around him like a predator would its prey. He made a show of considering what pastry he’d take and settled for a star-shaped cookie. Ryuzaki watched the whole procedure closely and Light smirked at him as he took a bite. 

Yes, I made you think about my mouth now. How’s that, smart-ass? 

“I think we should get to know each other better, don’t you?”

“And what makes you come to that conclusion?” Ryuzaki supposed. 

“Well, I want to, for one.” Light sassed.

“Are you coming on to me?" 

Light’s confident semblance cracked. It suddenly dawned on him what he was doing and where. Fuck, what if he isn’t into guys? This was why he never flirted with men unless he was sure the other person was at least bisexual! Or just let the other guys come onto him, which he never had a lack of. Shit. 

Ryuzaki seemed to notice his momentary alarm because he placed a hand on his arm in reassurance. 

"No, I’m into it. I was just surprised,” he explained with an earnestness Light wasn’t expecting. 

“Surprised?”

“People like you don’t usually flirt with me." 

"What’s people like me?" 

"Now you’re just fishing for compliments." 

Light grinned, feeling like his assured (but not overly-presumptuous) self again. 

“Swear I’m not.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Your hand is still on my arm, by the way.” 

Ryuzaki blinked at the offender, which was indeed still curled around Light’s tricep like a possessive pale spider. He only let go of it slowly, finger by finger, and Light pretended he could see a faint blush on the other’s face with the last rays of sunlight. 

There was a conscious effort on his part to not brush those sharp cheeks tenderly with his knuckles, less the sudden contact spook his new sudden fascination away. 

“It appears you’re not the only intoxicated one of the two of us,” Ryuzaki admitted in a low voice.

The loud party music and noises of the crowd seemed so far away. 

Light took a step forward. 

“We should–” 

“Light!”

A group of people was coming their way, and Light recognized Takada, Okubo Chise, Kinoshita Hideo, and another fake-blond dude he’d never had any interest in talking to. Kinoshita was the son of a major tech company’s executive and was rotting in money from his million-dollar hair to the ugly fungus in his toenails. Light, sadly, had had a mild interest for him at first, but that went to shit when he came to see how much of an asshole he was. 

Kinoshita grabbed him by the shoulder, while Chise and the fake-blond planted themselves in front of Ryuzaki. Takada, for her part, just stood to Light’s side glaring in Ryuzaki’s direction. What the hell?

“Light, what is someone like you doing talking with a freakshow like Ryuzaki.” Kinoshita wondered, exposing his gums in a self-satisfied smile that quickly raised Light’s hackles. "Don’t you know nothing good ever comes from involving yourself with him?”

“Come again?” 

“It’s true, Light. He doesn’t have a good reputation,” Takada interjected, not bothering to hide the disgust in her face with a once-over to his new acquaintance. “I don’t know how he’d have the nerve to come in here, uninvited.”

Frowning, Light searched to see the face of the boy he’d just been so pleasantly flirting with and, outwardly, found him to appear relatively unbothered. He’d expected him to be angry, indignant, or even sad, but Ryuzaki only had his hands in his jean pockets and was yet again staring with wide eyes at some unknown fixed point as if no one were talking about him. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific about whatever offense Ryuzaki’s done. But whatever the case, I find it incredibly distasteful to round him up like you’re doing.”

“It’s alright, Light. Kinoshita is probably still just angry because I exposed a nasty little online scam of his, and attained information that could lose him the already crumbling favor of his father, and also the fact that he is nevertheless unable to cause me any significant harm,” Ryuzaki answered matter-of-factly without sparing a single glance at Kinoshita’s direction.

Everyone fell silent for a moment. 

Okay, that was… 

Extremely attractive. 

“You’re a lying little cunt!” Kinoshita snarled. 

“The naive teenagers being granted false scholarships would argue otherwise.”

“What? Hideo, you said–” Takada began. 

But the small elite group exploded in an argument about what Kinoshita had or hadn’t done, with the latter giving weaker and weaker arguments. Light was so engrossed in his rightful indignation and the opportunity to disgrace Kinoshita, that by the time he called for Ryuzaki’s own word in the matter the strange student had already left without saying a word.

×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×

“Ryuzaki!" 

The hunched figure paused in his lazy gait towards the beach boulevard, but the dark disheveled head didn’t turn around. Light was panting by the time he caught up to him and he could feel the beginning of a headache already forming. 

Night had already fallen and the breeze charged at them from within the sea. 

"You’re already going?" 

"I am indeed approximately 700 feet from the party." 

"Not what I was asking.” Light rolled his eyes. 

Ryuzaki turned around finally, all sharp angles and even darker eyes illuminated by the blue and purple artificial lights on the street. 

“Well, your question didn’t contain your true intentions either. You’re asking why I’m going. And I assume this means you’d like to talk more?" 

Fastidious asshole. 

L didn’t wait for Light to answer before taking his phone from his jean’s pocket and handing it to him with the contact app open. 

Light typed quickly and handed the phone back, which finally brought a blessed smile to Ryuzaki’s face.

"I’m looking forward to talking to you soon, Light Yagami. Oh and before I forget." 

Long, spidery fingers settled themselves in a careful hold below Light’s chin, and before he had time to process what was about to happen, soft lips gave a feathery kiss to his own, so quick it might have been fantasy if it weren’t for the ghost of a contact searing an imprint over Light’s heart. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you at the entrance ceremony.”