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kellyvela · 2 years ago

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GRRM ABOUT DRAGONS

A compilation.

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I’ve said many times I don’t like thinly disguised allegory, but certain scenes do resonate over time. Other people have made the argument, which is more more contemporary, that it might have resonances with our current misadventures in Afghanistan and Iraq. I’m aware of the parallels, but I’m not trying to slap a coat of paint on the Iraq War and call it fantasy.

When civilizations clash in your books, instead of Guns, Germs, and Steel, maybe it’s more like Dragons, Magic, and Steel (and also Germs).

There is magic in my universe, but it’s pretty low magic compared to other fantasies.

Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world. But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I’m trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn’t mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals.

Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn’t give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.

—GRRM - Vulture - 2011

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balinares

I'd agree... except DRACO. Draco Draco Draco. Nicest dragon ever. If the Cocteau ever does a dragon event, I sure hope Dragonheart will be on the list, because intelligent, friendly dragons need more recognition. Doesn't hurt when they're voiced by Sean Connery, either. (...)

volk_nn

Draco is the most friendly and charming dragon of media culture, IMHO =)

grrm

Yes, but dragons are not meant to be friendly or charming.

—Coolest Dragons Ever" (Feb. 10th, 2014)

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“I mean battles and wars interest me too - and medieval feasts interest me. And you know I’m creating a whole world here and every facet of it. As I get to it I try to approach it as realistically as I can, but ultimately as I said before, it’s it’s the human heart in conflict with itself. It’s what makes Cersei Lannister the way she is, and is she capable of learning and changing? What drives Dany? With Dany I’m particularly looking at the… what effect great power has upon a person. She’s the mother of dragons, and she controls what is in effect the only three nuclear weapons in the entire world that I’ve created. What does it do to you when you control the only three nuclear weapons in the world and you can destroy entire cities or cultures if you choose to? Should you choose to, should you not choose to? These are the issues that fascinate me. I don’t necessarily claim to have answers to these. I think exploring the questions is far more interesting than just me giving an answer and saying to the reader, here’s the answer, here’s the truth. Now think about it for yourself, look at the dilemmas, look at the contradictions, look at the problems, and the unintended consequences. That’s what fascinates me.”

—“Interview exclusive de George R R Martin, l'auteur de Game Of Thrones” de -Le Mouv’- 2014 - [Transcription]

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How do you analyze this question of power? I think I was struck by the reading of the Lord of the Rings. I find that Tolkien is a little simplistic on the subject: at the end of the book, Aragorn becomes king, and we learn that he ruled in a wise and just way for a century, for he was a good man. But I read history books, I'm contemporary news, and I'm convinced that being a good man is not enough to make you a great leader. Because governing is a delicate exercise that makes you constantly make difficult decisions, solve problems where there is no good solution, that would solve everything by magic. Those are profound questions for the human race. And then there is the war, another subject that is close to my heart, I was a conscientious objector at the time of the Vietnam War, and this question still concerns me. I look at what is happening in the Middle East, with the Islamic State, and I can not help wondering: who are these monsters, these modern orcs? Who can be sympathetic to them? And yet, fighters say thousands to join them. More seriously, what motivates them? And how should we fight them? If I were Daenerys Targaryen. I could ride on my dragons and eliminate them in the flames. But is death the only solution we have to offer? How react to another who is so radically alien to us? These questions are very difficult - and I do not pretend to have the answers. Because there is no simple answer to these questions. —Lire Magazine - April 2015

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There is one remarkable phrase in this story. The plot is about the interstellar Grand Inquisitor from the Catholic Church, which has spread to many planets. And there is the Inquisition, which hunts heretics. And there is such a phrase: “This episode was illustrated by a magnificent picture. Judas in a dark cave, with burning eyes, waves a white-hot scourge, not letting a huge golden-green dragon approach him. He has a basket under his arm, the lid is slightly moved, the heads of three dragons that have just hatched from eggs stick out of it. You've been into dragons from the very beginning! GRRM: Dragons are cool! (burst of laughter) - What makes dragons cool? GRRM: I don't know... what makes dragons cool? When I was little, I had not only aliens, but also plastic dinosaurs. And dinosaurs are cool. (audience laughter) Dragons are fire-breathing dinosaurs with wings, which just adds to the level of coolness. (audience laughter) And what's interesting is that different cultures around the world have their own legends about dragons. Of course, Chinese dragons are fundamentally different from Western dragons, but nevertheless, there are similarities between them. And so I keep wondering: what if dragons evolved from dinosaurs? Perhaps our ancestors stumbled upon the bones of dinosaurs in the fields and thought that they must have been dragons. And they came up with all these legends. - Your colleague, G. K. Chesterton, said: "The stories about dragons are more than true: not only because they tell us that dragons exist, but also because they tell us that dragons can be defeated." This, too, is reminiscent of the synopsis of A Song of Ice and Fire. GRRM: Yeah, I'm not sure Dany would agree that dragons can be defeated. (laughter in the hall). We will find out. - I'm not even going to try to scratch out of you details about the plot of future books! But in your world, dragons are some kind of superweapon. Nuclear bombs of Westeros. GRRM: It is, yes. Nuclear weapon. This book that you are holding now is this big one, “The World of Ice and Fire” - this is the history of the entire world of Westeros, written by me together with Elio Garcia and Linda Antonsson - legends, and all about the Targaryen kings. There are excellent illustrations. Among other things, it talks about dragons in the days when the Targaryens had dragons. They held them for 150 years, and the great war, A Dance with Dragons, was a civil war where dragons fought against each other. There is a lot about the power of dragons and how hard it is to kill them. But on the other hand, many dragons died then, because they are still not invincible and not immortal. They are difficult to kill, but possible. And, of course, they can kill each other. So it's all there. Does this anticipate major events in the cycle... we'll have to wait and see. —George R.R. Martin in Hamburg: "Dragons are cool!" - 2015 - [OG Source in Russian] - [Secondary Source in Russian]

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[Unclear question]

GRRM: Oh boy, who would they be? Um, I can think of some analogs to Mr. Tr*mp, but you know, it would must be a villain character, but my villains are actually smarter than him. You know, just this comment he made last week or so about, oh, it would be good. “You know, we shouldn't have to worry about North Korea having atomic weapons. We should give atomic weapons to other people in the neighborhood and like, you know, Japan and South Korea, and then they can deal with it.” That's yeah. Clear proliferation. That's great. That would be equivalent for people in, you know, my world saying, you know, everybody should have dragons, why don’t every House in westeros had dragons, that would really help. So, uh, there we're.

—BALTICON 2016

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GRRM: “People read fantasy to see the colours again,” he says. “We live our lives and I think there’s something in us that yearns for something more, more intense experiences. There are men and women out there who live their lives seeking those intense experiences, who go to the bottom of the sea and climb the highest mountains or get shot into space. Only a few people are privileged to live those experiences but I think all of us want to, somewhere in our heart of hearts we don’t want to live the lives of quiet desperation Thoreau spoke about, and fantasy allows us to do those things. Fantasy takes us to amazing places and shows us wonders, and that fulfils a need in the human heart.”

The Guardian: And the dragons?

GRRM: “Oh sure, dragons are cool too,” he chuckles. “But maybe not on our doorstep”.

—The Guardian - November 2018

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Esquire: How will Fire & Blood deepen our understanding of Daenerys and her dragons?

GRRM: This is a book that Daenerys might actually benefit from reading, but she has no access to Archermaester Gyldayn’s crumbling manuscripts. So she’s operating on her own there. Maybe if she understood a few things more about dragons and her own history in Essos, things would have gone a little differently.

—Esquire - November 2018

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Sitting down with news.com.au in New York City, Martin dropped dark hints to the suffering awaiting the war-torn world of Westeros as the battle for the Iron Throne reaches its peak.

“I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany (Daenerys Targaryen) has found that out as she tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there.

‘THE POWER TO DESTROY’

“She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in ‘Fire and Blood,’ we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn’t necessarily enable you to rule — it just enables you to destroy.”

—GRRM - Fox News Channel - November 2018

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John Howe: Can I ask you why Dany is a princess and not a prince?

GRRM: I made this choice a long time ago, I think I wanted to play a little with the genres and reversed things a little, and of course in my head the expression "mother of dragons" is much better than "father of dragons". There is also this link with the woman who gives life, who transmits lives, carrying a gigantic power of death, of fire, of destruction. There are very powerful metaphors in there.

—Dragons! (2/4) Dragons d'Occident, la figure du mal [2018]

Video (13:10 - French audio and subtitles but you can hear GRRM talking in English in the back)

Reddit translation (Last quote)

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They [the dragons] represent power, of course, in the books. You know, I don't believe any more than JRRT did in fantasy novels as allegory, but there are certain things you can look at. The dragons can win wars for you, that's established in the histories, but they can't necessarily produce peace or prosperity or help you rule a nation, you know, Daenerys Targaryen is finding it out in Mereen, when she, you know, she defeats the cities of Slavers Bay with her three dragons, but then in trying to rule as Queen, she can destroy Meereen any time she wants by just unleashing the dragons, could kill a lot of people, you know, wipe out the most of the population of the city, reduced the entire city to a fiery inferno, but that doesn't help her to come up with good laws, or to establish peace between the original inhabitants, and the the freedmen, and people that she's brought in, so ruling is more than just the power to destroy and that's a lesson that she's definitely learning.

—Guerra dos Tronos. A entrevista de George R.R. Martin à RTP - 2019

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The Targaryens are also an ancient house but they're not an ancient Westerosi house. They knew that destruction was coming to Valyria and went far away from the capital city and the settled on the volcanic island of Dragonstone. They were dragon lords in Valyria. Now dragons are really formidable and they can turn the tide of a battle. It flies, it's difficult to hit, it breathes fire, against which most knights and men at arms have little or no protection. So if you have dragons, that's were the nuclear option analogy comes in. You're hard to mess around with. So the dragons and fear of dragons was one of the things that made the Targaryens very secure in their power.

—Before the Dance: An Illustrated History with George R.R. Martin | House of the Dragon (HBO) - August - 2022

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Would you rather have a dragon or a direwolf?

GRRM: Well, that's an interesting question too. The dragon has certain advantages, number one it is you can fly, and I would love to be able to fly. As a kid, you know, I read superhero comics, I didn't want to be Batman, swinging on a rope, but I wanted to be Superman and flying through the skies and all of that stuff. Flying is a primal dream, so yeah, flying on a dragon and being able to burn the hell out of my enemies, that's useful too. On the other hand, the direwolves are friendlier than the dragons. And you know, they're like big shaggy dogs and there was probably more of a close and affectionate bond between them. And I would like to have a direwolf right now at my house in Santa Fe, we moved into a new house a while ago, it's beautiful house, and it has a little kind of waterfall in the back and a well, it has a couple pools, beautiful pools, and I stocked those pools with Koi, because I thought that would be cool, and the raccoons ate all of my Koi, but if I had a direwolf, those raccoons would stayed hell away. (...)

Would you rather freeze to death beyond the Wall or burn alive in dragonfire?

GRRM: That's another tough one. Can I just live forever? I can't die the way Tyrion wanted to die, that's a pity. I can't say how he wanted to die, but it's in the books. Read the books. He's asked that question by Shagga son of Dolf. I think freezing. Fire is supposed to be a really, really painful way to die. I've always heard. (...)

Do you think it's possible to have a dragon and live a benevolent life? Like, would you inherently get pulled into using that power?

GRRM: Well, that's an interesting question too. And it's a question if I may verge away from medieval history and metaphor to the current reality we live in, you know, it's often been said that the dragons are the nuclear weapons of my imaginary world. They are the most devastating weapon, and they cause great destruction, massive loss of life; but they're not necessarily, you know, I mean, this is part of Dany's storyline and the original novels. I mean, Dany . . . Dany has three dragons, and she can destroy these cities, like Meereen where she finds herself queen, but it doesn't mean she can necessarily rule them easily without destroying them, so, when do you do that? And I grew up, I'm a baby boomer born in 1948, and growing up in the fifties there was always the specter of nuclear war. I mean I lived through the Cuban missile crisis, and Khrushchev and, you know, saber rattling and, you know, all of the books about the nuclear holocaust, about Armageddon and, you know, about what was gonna happen, we were worried about that. Actually there's nuclear weapons that have only been used twice in all of History, and they've been used on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Afterwards, there was a long period where only America had nuclear weapons; nobody else in the world had them, and there were people, believe it or not, like you're a science fiction fan, you know who Robert A. Heinlein was? [Yep] Heinlein, the dean of science fiction, fascinating guy, because his politics a lot of people think of him as conservative because of where he got in end of his life, but earlier when he was a young man, he was sort of a socialist, he ran there for office in California on Upton Sinclair's platform, and he actually advocated in letters that you can find, that at the end of World War II, when only America had the atomic bomb, he said America should give the atomic bomb to the newly formed United Nations, and it should be prohibited to all other countries, so we would have a world government and only the United Nations would be able to enforcing, and can you imagine if that had actually been done, what a very, very different world that we would live in. Maybe not one that we would like, but there's there. And thereafter, there was always these concerns about, well, we can win any of these wars, you know, why did . . . . I mean, MacArthur and some other people wanted to use the atomic bomb in Korea, in the Korean war, and, you know, when China invaded, well, why are we letting them do that? We could win the war. Of course, by then the Russians, I think, had it too. Or Barry Goldwater in 1964 election, why are we fighting this war in Vietnam? Let's just drop a nuke on Hanoi, or at least that was the charge. But we never did it, we always refrained, we were the dragon riders who would not use our dragons, although we would kind of use them to intimidate them, except now more and more countries have that. We've tried a nuclear non-proliferation, but, you know, Britain got them, Soviet Union got them, Britain got them, France got them, then it went to India and Pakistan and North Korea, for God's sakes, and Iran is trying to get them, and there's always the rumors that Israel has them. As more and more countries get this, I think the danger becomes greater and greater, someday someone is gonna use them, and right now the danger is very high! I mean, you can turn on the news every day: Is Putin losing the war in Ukraine? Is he gonna resort to nukes? And then the question becomes, what if he does? If Putin resorts to nukes, does America unleash its dragons? Or do we not? And let him get away from it. These are profound questions, we could debate this for hours with a panel of political scientists and things like that, and it's not an easy answer to.

—A Conversation with George R R Martin | A Celebration of the Targaryen Dynasty [October 24th, 2022]

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There are also dragons, who confer monumental power to those who dominate them. Did you incorporate them for the show, or to emphasize something broader? GRRM: I have never consciously inserted any contemporary political allegory into my works. However, some have compared dragons to nuclear weapons, and they may be holding something. I have tried to make the over-power of the dragons very explicit in the novels, they represent a destructive force, and Daenerys realized this when she ascended the throne of Meereen. Thanks to the dragons, she has the power to wipe a city off the map, to eradicate whole armies. That does not mean that this weapon allows you to reign afterwards. Here, there is a metaphor that, I believe, means the following: to reign and to destroy are two very different things. —Society Magazine Interview [https://www2.lekiosk.com/fr/publication/society/21423629█ 201812 Society Magazine.pdf]

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#grrm #asoiaf #dragons #sweet stark fanboy georgie is recreating winterfell in his new house huh?#that event from last year it was a targ celebration or something and he was fanboying over having a direwolf lol #he can't stop comparing asoiaf dragons with nuclear weapons . . . .#UPDATED

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psychelis-new · 1 year ago

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hey, lys, i’m here to give feedback for the reading.

as you said, there could be, actually there is a fear of remaining stuck in this old cycle (i’ve been on this journey of healing, shadow work for two years and a half now). it’s been intense and heavy, with me always been in alert and not many people to rely on ( to be honest just my guides) so yeah, i guess there’s this part of my subconscious that is afraid that things won’t change, even though i have been changing and my soul is aware of that. it’s like in these years, so much has happened in my internal world, while the external not so much, so even the people around me can’t see me, they can’t really understand. it’s been quite lonely to be honest. while there’s a part of me that intuitively feels that this chapter is closing, my mind gets loud sometimes. and as you said at a certain point, i’ve lived most part of life, doing and doing, giving so much of my energy and soul, without receiving much in return especially in emotional matters so the idea that i can finally receive what i what sometimes feels impossible but when i quiet my mind, i can feel it, the truth, it’s like even my body is speaking to me.

thanks again for taking your time to do this reading for me, your words are always comforting, they give a sense of stability. i hope you know that you’ve helped a lot and that i’m grateful. always take care :3

I understand very well. I've been on a similar path as yours for almost the same amount of time and it's been very lonely. It got lonelier even, also cause of building new boundaries. This is also why I'm thankful I started going more into spirituality before it happened, so I could at least rely on my Guides as you did. At times we'd like for others to come closer when we feel blue but it seems we made them used to us not needing anything so they just let us be (they may partially fear annoying us/going too far or yeah.. some just don't care that much as they rather get than give). Maybe talking could be of help (not everyone has the right level of emotional sensibility to get everything intuitively and they have their own problems too, which after the pandemic got worse for everyone), but it's not easy as there are other fears coming in between: not being able to explain, not being understood, being judged, feeling like a burden... it's not easy, so we end up doing it all alone and isolate even more. Despite it's not what is really suggested to do while healing cause thise way we lose touch with reality and our minds have it easier.

But when doubts arise, try to talk with them and ask them for their reasons, to check if they have real objective basis or it's just fears: it's probably the latter cause your mind has no tangible proof about what it will be fr. I again hope in those moments you can take a breath and then go forward holding hands with your mind and trust what you feel when you're gounded and calm, not when you're stressed, worried, tired and overwhelmed. Your intuition works best when you feel good and as one among soul, body, heart and mind. Keep taking care and be hopeful, it'll be fine I'm sure of that<3

Thanks for the feedback ofc!

#.#feedback #13 #personal readings

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prodigal-explorer · 10 months ago

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YESSSS I HAVE SO MANY

alphys from undertale. shes such a unique character and i’m obsessed with not only her growth, but the way she navigates the world, her guilt and her shame mixed with her strong desire to help others around her. the way she’s constantly battling severe social anxiety because she’s determined to use her gifts to make the world a better place, but she has a bit of a dark side because she’s willing to lie and cheat to get where she wants to go. but sometimes, things just go too far, and she loses control over the things she does. it’s so tragic and she’s just so fucking interesting. also she was the first openly gay character i’ve ever interacted with in my life and she’s the one who introduced me to the lgbtq+ community so uh thanks girl! for being the reason why i know i’m gay!

aubrey from omori. idk why the fuck y’all be hating on her cuz she’s the realest character in the whole damn game. she has such strong core values and she never backs down from them, even when they hurt her or put her in danger. aubrey would rather be hurt and true to herself than perfectly safe and a traitor to herself or others. she comes off as so strong and sure of herself but she’s just a little girl who was abandoned multiple times throughout her life, desperate for someone to just BE REAL with her. her life was ruined by what the two main male characters that get all the attention from the fandom did. she lost the one person who truly understood her. and everybody around her had a support system but she had none. she acted out of desperation, she wasn’t a bully like a lot of people like to say. i’m not saying she’s perfect (lowkey i am tho cuz fictional men get free passes all the time so i think she deserves one too) but everything she did was completely justified by the heartbreaking fact that she was ALONE. all alone. she’s my blorbo and i’m holding her in my arms. stop fucking attacking her and then defending those two guy main characters and calling them uwu baby gay boys AUBREY DESERVES SOME OF THAT TREATMENT CUZ SHES THE ACTUAL VICTIM HERE. but y’all won’t give it to her cuz she’s a fucking girl.

mari from omori. WE ARE BACK WITH MORE OMORI WOMEN CUZ THEY CANNOT CATCH A BREAK WITY YALL TOXIC BITCHES. first of all let’s get this out of the way she didn’t fucking abuse sunny. y’all just made that the fuck up because you can’t handle the idea of women being innocent victims who did nothing to earn their tragic ends. it ruins the whole fucking point of the game if she abused sunny. okay now that that’s out of the way MARI IS AN ANGEL. she’s such a beautiful character, the way she’s so fiesty but also so gentle and sweet. she cares so much about other people, and she just is so fun-loving. she goes out of her way to make life SPECIAL and meaningful. everywhere there’s beauty in the world, mari sees it. shes my blorbo too she’s so precious and wonderful and she deserves everything. and she’s not just an amazing big sister or an amazing girlfriend. she’s an amazing PERSON. she’s so beautiful and she spreads so much light in every room she walks in she MEANS SO MUCH TO ME.

nao egokoro from your turn to die. she is deadass the best character in the entire game and it’s CRIMINAL that she doesn’t get the attention she deserves. and don’t be telling me that it’s because she died early on cuz JOU DID TOO AND YALL HAVE NO PROBLEM GIVING HIM ATTENTION. anyway, her growth is AMAZING. her journey is beautiful and engaging and i am obsessed with the way she eventually started to find herself in her adulthood and discovers the strong, capable, amazing woman she had always been. she cares so much about her friends, sara and reko, and she works so hard to repay them for all the times they helped her. she tries to shoulder burdens so that sara doesn’t need to. she’s so protective over the people she loves, not letting people badmouth them. and she’s just SO PRECIOUS. a beautiful painter who’s so emotional that she sees the whole world in the most vibrant colors.

sara chidouin from your turn to die. idk why she gets so much hate (oh wait i do know. she’s a GIRL.) cuz she’s actually the perfect main character and i haven’t encountered a more perfect main character since link from legend of zelda. sara is so uniquely designed to the point where she’s completely iconic. she’s the perfect balance of self-insertable main character and individual with a personality and life of her own outside the whims of the player. her personality is so interesting too! she’s reliable and trustworthy and has an insurmountable charisma, which is typically a trait that’s given to male characters but sara wears it so well. she’s such an amazing main character and she’s definitely one of the biggest reasons why i think the game is so successful. and she’s just COOL AS FUCK.

all this to say: FICTIONAL WOMEN ON TOP. yeah i get it you guys want uwu little baby gay boys blah blah whatever but DO NOT DRAG WOMEN JUST SO MEN CAN BE ON TOP. we get enough of that irl so leave my baby girls alone please and thank you.

favorite character from any media BUT it has to be a woman. in the tags now go (pls talk to me about your favorite fictional women pls pls pls pls)

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mainstoryarchive · 3 months ago

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Revolution - 51: Harmony

Translator: Creampuffs

Mao: ~♪

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Soundproof Lesson Room

Mao: ~♪

…Oh, Transfer Student. You didn’t head home yet? It’s already midnight, you know?

I want to practise a little longer since I want to make up for the time I lost last week.

We can’t win the “S1” if we’re not in sync with each other.

If I’m gonna do this, then I’m gonna do it with the intention of winning. Even if…

It means I’m facing off against the Student Council, I don’t think the Vice-President will complain as long as we respect the rules and give a fair fight.

In fact, he even told me to do my best when I said I was going off to practise with my unit.

I guess he doesn’t even see us as enemies right now~

We have a chance at winning, but there’s not a lot of time until the “S1” and our skills aren’t up to scratch, either.

This week, I’ve got to work hard like my life depends on it. Well, I bet I’ll just be destroying my body if I pull all-nighters and push myself too far, though.

I don’t really know how to stop when it comes to things like that.

I always thought I could handle myself pretty well, but I guess that’s not actually the case.

Subaru and Hokuto have already left to rest for tomorrow’s practice session. They made the right choice. There’s no point in working too hard.

But it’s only those with confidence who can leave their hopes and dreams to tomorrow.

A coward like me would only grow more anxious if I didn’t do everything I could today while I’m awake.

I don’t really know how to make use of the twenty-four hours everyone’s been equally given, but it looks like you’re the in same boat, huh, Transfer Student.

Ordinary people have it tough, huh~ Especially when there are people with natural talent around.

Well, I’m good at keepings things consistent, so… I’m sure things will work itself out.

The problem is Makoto. He can try too hard sometimes.

We’ve decided on a tracklist for our “S1” performance after taking your opinion into account.

There’s a total of six songs. Each of us will be the centre of one song.

The first song we’ll be performing is one of “Trickstar’s” existing songs. Each of us will get a turn in the spotlight for that one.

After that, there’ll be another of our existing songs, then the three new tracks from the Light Music Club… Those songs will focus on us individually.

The order goes Subaru, Hokuto, me, then Makoto. Makoto’s skills aren’t up to par yet, so he’ll be using one of our existing songs.

And if he ends up making a blunder, then… we should be able to turn things around by performing our new song together.

It sounds like we’re pampering or being extra nice to Makoto, huh. But he understands and also knows his skills are lacking.

And that’s also why he’s probably thinking he can’t afford to mess up.

He thinks that he’ll just be a burden if he ends up messing up even after we were so considerate to him. He thinks he’s not needed in “Trickstar”, and that he’ll just hold everyone back…

He’s felt that way before, so he’s got low self-esteem.

Makoto’s got a weapon and the qualities needed to be an idol. He’s needed in “Trickstar”, but he himself doesn’t believe that at all.

Mao: He’s a complicated guy. But that’s also precisely why we have to win the “S1”.

Winning will give him confidence. That’s what Makoto needs right now.

The road to victory will be hell, I’m sure – it’ll be one you can’t bear to watch. But we need to support him.

He’s insecure and inexperienced but he’s got talent. He shouldn’t cower away and stay in the shadows. He should be shining brightly on stage – or at least, that’s what I think.

It’d be great if you also felt the same way, Transfer Student.

…Oh, were you working on something? Sorry for making you chat with me. I just end up rambling~

What’s that you’re doing? Sewing?

Ohh. You’re making our outfits. You’re doing so many things for us, huh~

Thanks, but are you gonna make it in time for next week?

You’re working hard late at night to ensure you do, right? Sorry and thanks. I can stop the music if it’s distracting.

I’ve got the songs downloaded onto my device, so I can listen to them with my earphones. Well, it kinda gets in the way when I’m dancing, though.

…You sure? Watching me gives you design ideas?

Mao: Yeah? Then, I’ll keep dancing. Sorry if it’s annoying.

Also, give me a heads up if you’re going home. I’ll walk you. It’s pitch-black outside, so it’d be dangerous for a girl to walk home by herself, right?

We need to take good care of you. After all…

Subaru and Hokuto have been calling you “Trickstar’s” Goddess of Victory, you know?

[ ☆ ]

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#enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translations #mao isara

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im-no-jedi · 2 years ago

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MLWTBB: Master and Commander

Part 11 of the “My Life With The Bad Batch” series, a (mostly) canon compliant self-insert story set in “The Bad Batch”

rated: T warnings: descriptions of food and eating, implied self-harm, gun violence relationships: Hunter/self-insert, Omega & self-insert (adopted siblings), The Bad Batch & self-insert chapter word count: 2500+ words

✨MLWTBB masterlist✨

summary: when Hannah’s already hectic life becomes almost too much to bear, Master Gildish gifts her a new companion to help ease the burdens, as well as give Hannah a new friend to live with. however, the Bad Batch are not so thrilled with Hannah’s new robotic ally, which causes major tension in Hannah’s relationship with Echo and Hunter.

notes: I’ve seen a bunch of art in the past depicting Battle Droids wearing clothes and thought it was absolutely adorable. you’ll definitely be seeing this boy sport different outfits in the future, but for now, he gets the good ol’ Star Wars poncho 😁

A/N: this story has not been proofread by anyone other than myself. so apologies for any uncaught errors 😬

previous chapter

Chapter 3: Curious Inquiries

______________________________________________________________

Droids had always fascinated Hannah. Even as a child, they interested her, to the point where she often lamented the fact that she never got to have one of her own. There had been far too many times where she and her sister had asked for one, only to be told by their parents that droids were too expensive and hard to maintain. Droids in general were a rare sight on Astreon, and the ones that did exist there were used solely for work purposes. Every time Hannah got to see one, she felt like the luckiest girl in the galaxy.

Owning a droid had truly always been a dream of Hannah’s. And now... she finally had one.

The only problem was... it just so happened to be a type of droid that her family of Clones was going to absolutely despise.

Thankfully, the same couldn’t be said for the droid. His system reboot had erased all memory of the Clone Wars from his databanks, which meant he didn’t remember that his mortal enemies were Clone Troopers. But it also made it much harder just trying to explain the mere concept of them to him.

“Soooo, you’re telling me, your real family is dead, but your new family is a bunch of guys who were cloned from another guy, but were changed so that they don’t even look like that guy anymore?” The Battle Droid Commander scratched his head in confusion as he walked behind Hannah.

“Most of them, yes,” Hannah replied with a nod. “One of them was in an accident that caused him to need cybernetic replacements, that’s all. And one of them is... just a girl instead of a boy. She’s also the oldest one, but looks younger than all of them. Don’t ask why, even I don’t really understand that aspect of it.”

“Well, regardless of how they look, they all sound like very nice people!” the Battle Droid cheerfully responded, strutting with an equally cheerful spring in his step. “I can’t wait to meet them, master!”

Hannah let out a small sigh and shook her head. Although it was a good thing the droid didn’t remember who Clone Troopers were, the same couldn’t be said for the opposite, and that was not a conversation she was looking forward to.

“Yeah, that’ll definitely be... interesting. And also, not gonna lie, it’s kinda weird hearing you call me that.”

“What; master?”

“Yeah.”

“But... that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“I mean... I guess?” Hannah shrugged for emphasis. “But that’s what I call Master Gildish, so I dunno, it just feels weird.”

“Well, what would you like me to call you instead, master?”

Another sigh left Hannah’s lips, along with a chuckle. “I... don’t know! I’ll have to think about it. You could just call me by my real name, I don’t mind.”

“Alright! There’s only one problem though...”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know your real name yet, master!”

Hannah broke out into laughter and covered her mouth to muffle the loudness of it. The alley they were walking through may have been concealed in darkness, but that didn’t mean she wanted anybody to hear them there. “It’s Hannah,” she told him after her laughter had finally died down.

“Ahh ok! Then it’s a pleasure to work for you, Master Hannah!”

Yet another sigh, coupled with an eyeroll. Clearly, Hannah’s efforts were a lost cause on this poor, naïve soul, and she gave up on trying to correct him after that.

Suddenly, the Battle Droid stopped walking, prompting Hannah to stop as well. “What?” she asked after turning towards him.

“Uhh... I just realized,” the Battle Droid said as he scratched the side of his head with a single finger. “I don’t remember what my name is...”

“Oh...” Hannah looked down solemnly for a moment. “Guess we’ll have to figure out a name for you too. Honestly, you probably didn’t even have a name before. Most droids just have a designation that they go by.”

“Well, I don’t remember that either. I don’t remember anything!”

Despite the subject matter, the Battle Droid didn’t sound upset at all. He almost sounded cheerful, ironically. If Gildish was right and the droid had maintained his personality somehow, then Hannah seriously began to wonder how such a cheerful Battle Droid managed to exist in the first place. Especially if he was supposed to be a Commander.

“I... guess you’ll just have to create some new memories then.” Hannah beckoned the droid to continue following, and he did so with a continued spring in his robotic step.

Soon, they were out of the dark alley and back into the streets of the city again. The last lamp dimmed behind them as they exited, leaving just the surrounding neon signs of the buildings to illuminate the area. Despite the low light, the Battle Droid let out a curious hum and gave a good look around their surroundings. He quickly discovered that the place he’d been rebooted in was not pleasant at all.

“Wow,” he said as he carefully stepped around a pile of garbage. “This place is disgusting. Does nobody clean up around here?”

“Are you talking about the streets or Gil’s workshop?” Hannah asked while chuckling. “Cause the answer is no for both.”

“Well, somebody should do that.” The Battle Droid kicked away an empty can with his larger foot and shook his head in disgust.

“Don’t look at me,” Hannah said while shaking her head. “I have enough to deal with at my job as it is.”

Hearing that, the droid curiously asked what Hannah’s job was. She answered by letting him know she was a bartender at Cid’s parlor, which led to explanations of both the parlor and what a bartender was.

“So you get paid to just stand around and pour drinks for people all day?” the Battle Droid asked once Hannah was done explaining everything.

“Essentially, yeah. Honestly, my position should also be classified as a janitor from all the cleaning I do too...” Hannah let out a grumpy sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Sounds like you hate it,” the Battle Droid plainly stated.

Hannah shrugged a bit. “I mean, it’s not my preferred job, that’s for sure. But it’s all I have. And it keeps me in my apartment, so...”

“What’s an apartment?” the Battle Droid asked in the same curious tone he’d been using all night.

A smile grew on Hannah’s face, and she shook her head incredulously at him. “You sure ask a lot of questions, huh?”

“Only cause I don’t remember anything!”

Again, the droid maintained a cheerful disposition despite the context of his words. It was incredibly endearing, and the smile on Hannah’s face remained. Internally, she was telling herself to not get too attached in case she ended up giving the droid to someone else. But pretty much everyone who knew her knew how quickly she got attached to things, and she could already tell it was going to be nearly impossible to get rid of him before they even got home.

“Oh shoot,” Hannah suddenly exclaimed.

“Shoot what?” The Battle Droid began looking around, like he was trying to spot potential enemies, but then stopped and looked at his own hands. “Oh wait, I don’t have a weapon...”

“No, no,” Hannah said while holding back a laugh. “That wasn’t an order. You really need to—ugh, never mind.” She let out a sigh and crossed her arms thoughtfully. “I just realized that I was about to make myself a moving target. As if it isn’t already dangerous enough around here.”

“Dangerous?”

“Yeah, this isn’t the friendliest city in the galaxy. Especially at night.”

The Battle Droid began looking around again, this time in a more paranoid state.

“And I’d basically be asking for trouble if I started going around with a droid like you.” Hannah sighed yet again, then stepped into the workshop.

“I could protect you if I had a weapon!” the Battle Droid proudly stated. “I may not be a soldier anymore, but I still know how to fight! ...I think.”

Hannah’s mouth spread into a wide grin hearing that. The droid almost sounded like one of the Clones, and it tickled her immensely. “That’s alright,” she replied. She rummaged in her bag for a moment, then pulled a torchlight out to see better in the dimly lit workshop. “I know how to avoid trouble around here. Plus...” She faced the droid and pulled something else out of her bag. Her blaster spun around once on her finger as a smirk grew on her face. “I also know how to protect myself.”

“Oh...”

For once, the Battle Droid sounded genuinely disappointed. It made sense considering gunfighting was what he was literally created for. But like the Clones, Hannah was sure he would find something else to do in time. And unlike the Clones, he could be reprogrammed for it if need be.

“Aha, this should do.” Hannah leaned down to grab something and came back up with some sort of sheet or cover in her hands. “I’m sure Gil won’t mind me borrowing this. He owes me as much...”

After shaking out the dust and dirt, Hannah came up to the droid with the sheet draped over one arm. Then in one swift movement, she slung the sheet around the droid and began affixing it to his body like a makeshift cloak. By the end of it, all but the droid’s lower legs and head were now concealed by the sheet.

“Cozy!” The Battle Droid exclaimed once Hannah had finished. “I was feeling a bit shivery, thanks!”

Giggles erupted out of Hannah, and she shook her head at him. “This is for stealth purposes. People around here don’t really like Battle Droids.”

“Oh.” The Battle Droid cocked his head curiously and asked why.

“That... is a conversation for another time,” Hannah answered, her eyes going a bit wide. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ever have to have that conversation...

Most of the droid was now covered, but there was still the issue of the droid’s exposed head. Hannah began pondering what she could do with a thoughtful pose, much like her partner was known to do. She could continue rummaging through the workshop, but that felt like too much effort. Plus, she was already well ready to return home. So against her better nature, Hannah let out another sigh and hesitantly removed her beloved scarf from her neck.

“Alright, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Hannah said while staring up at the droid intensely. “This scarf here is extremely important to me. I rarely let it out of my sight. But I’m letting you borrow it until we get back to my place. Do not let anything happen to this scarf until I ask for it back, understand?”

For once, the droid didn’t question her and simply replied with a nod of his head and a “roger roger”. Hannah returned the nod, then began affixing the scarf around the droid’s head like a hood. A small smile grew on her lips as she remembered the last time she’d done this for similar reasons to Hunter. Unlike then though, the scarf didn’t fit very well around the droid, leaving half of his long snout-like head still exposed. He now looked like some weird droid version of Emperor Palpatine himself.

“How do I look?” the Battle Droid asked. “I can’t see, so you have to tell me what it looks like.”

Hannah could barely contain her laughter and sputtered behind her own hands. “Yeah, this is definitely just a temporary fix. Maybe we can find something better along the way...”

“Well, I’ll try to keep a lookout while we’re walking,” the Battle Droid said, facing almost the complete opposite direction from Hannah. “I still can’t see, so I can’t promise I’ll do any good.”

By that point, Hannah was sure she was going to pass out from laughing so much. “Ok, first of all...” She tugged the scarf back a bit so the droid could actually see. “And secondly, we won’t be walking.”

“Oh?” The Battle Droid adjusted the scarf a bit more, then curiously looked to where Hannah was standing. Behind her sat the speeder bike, still adorned with its racer-like colors and flame decals. If the droid’s eyes could’ve grown larger, they would have. “Whoooooa... sweet ride.”

Hannah let out a snicker as she climbed on the bike. “Oh, wait until you see how fast it can go.”

Her hand patted the spot behind her to signal the droid over, and he enthusiastically stepped over to take a seat. It took some effort to get him situated, but eventually they were finally ready to go. Hannah told the droid to hold on tight, which he did with surprising strength. His metallic fingers dug into Hannah’s skin through her clothes, causing her to wince in pain.

“Whoops! Sorry!” The Battle Droid eased his grip and chuckled sheepishly.

“And I thought Wrecker had a strong grip,” Hannah quipped as she rubbed her own shoulders.

Out of embarrassment, the droid removed his hands entirely from Hannah. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I could always--” He was cut off by Hannah reaching around and grabbing one of his hands.

“It’s fine,” she reassured him. “You’re still learning, don’t worry about it.” Still clutching his hand, she pulled it forward and wrapped it around her waist, then did the same with his other hand so both arms were now gripped around her. She also gave him a reassuring smile and chuckled softly. “This is much better, right?”

The Battle Droid nodded his head with an “uh-huh”. Then he curiously watched her in silence for a moment while she turned the bike on and got ready to go.

He couldn’t explain it, but something about his new master made him feel something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. The way she was treating him felt... different. Like he’d never experienced something as simple as kindness before. And it was a welcome feeling, for sure.

“Master Hannah?”

Hannah turned her head back to look at him. “Yeah?”

If droids could smile, he would’ve definitely been smiling at her. “You’re a very nice person.”

Unlike the droid, Hannah could smile, and her lips spread into a flattered grin. “And you’re a very nice droid.”

“Aww, thanks!”

With one last giggle, Hannah revved the engine of her bike before taking off, making the droid reel back with a loud “whoa!!” At first, the droid was perfectly fine and thought the trip was going to be a breeze. But the legitimate breeze created from how fast Hannah drove made him have to hold onto his scarf hood to keep it from blowing away. Thankfully, he was strong enough to hold on to Hannah with only one arm.

“Do you always drive this fast?” the Battle Droid asked her.

“No,” she replied before her lips spread into another grin. “Sometimes I go faster.”

Hearing that somehow both excited the droid and worried him. His new master was certainly going to be interesting, that was for sure...

[next chapter]

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #self-insert #selfshipping #would it be a SW story if someone wasn't wearing a dusty poncho LOL #my silly boy will be getting so many clothes in the future haha #star warz #my storiez

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay! I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck? Look whenever you want? That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind. You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are? Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look. You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right. You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there? Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means. It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible. Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look. Sort of.

Sort of. Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid. Mostly for him. What if he’s making a mistake? It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you. This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn. Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him. To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around. Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer. Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?” (“I don’t know. Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?” (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?” (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles? Or moles, or birthmarks?” (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?” (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?” (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?” (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look. One right after the other. You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence. You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take. One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally. And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines. He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful. When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib. But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off. He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because. Now he does. Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully. Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch. Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear. At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom. He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door. Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them. Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born. Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide. There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare? He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye. But to you, he’s… his own monument. Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else. A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him? No, that’s not phrased right. What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference. He could be anybody. There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features? Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun. Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would. Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing. Every single time. You feel like you could do it in the pitch black. You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous. Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable. Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous. Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides. He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back. He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over. No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova? For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning. He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it? Din is… different, he notices. He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too. He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around. That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why. You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood. While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes. Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite. Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder? He said you’d say no. Was he right? You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could. Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself? Where would it be? Naboo? No, that’s too cheesy. One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it. You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels. Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away. You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is. You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated. Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you. “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair. “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it. “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it. “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss. You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs. “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time. You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it. “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around. “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body. The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it. “Be safe. Please.”

But then… well. Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach. You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so. Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned. “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up. You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him. But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you. Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him. You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea. “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

***

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…? You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real. You actually fucking did it. You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey! See that, bug!?” You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms. “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him. “No demon powers necessary, little man! I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two. You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward. You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach. You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious. Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm. It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible. You have company. “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.” He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you. It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still. Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…” You immediately feel yourself get nervous. “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more. The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity. Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits. It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it? But it doesn’t hit. It misses, like usual. Miserably. And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck. You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either. But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect. There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly. However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just…

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point? All that practice and nothing to show for it. If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot? Are they gonna stand still for you? Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk? You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done. It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time. You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him. “I hit it earlier. I did, I promise. You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago. “I know you did. It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center. I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet. Dumb. Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear. “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection. It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things. Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through. You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you. Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it. “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point. I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist. “Try using this one when you do.” And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship. Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand. You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor. Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety. It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look. The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be. The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside? Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot? Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him. Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones. “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs. “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up. He didn’t have to do this. This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do. Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle. You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place. It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly. “They’re… dangerous animals. Fiercely protective, preferring solitude. The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him. It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor. Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel. You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back. “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other. The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right. The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is. What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears. Fuck yes.

“Look at that!” Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory. Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous. You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark. “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot. A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later. “That one.” Bark splinters. “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing. “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous. As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance. So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger. Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress. He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that. Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way. It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back. That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again. “We have to get going. The fifth quarry is far. Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker. You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest. His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight. “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you. After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding. You hope he sees it in your eyes. You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along. It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.” Short. Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay… Um. Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.” Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks. Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now. “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay. I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp. “My fault for being late.” And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive. Aloof. Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help? Maybe?” Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you. “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up. You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known. You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it. “I can be useful. I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—”

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?” He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze. You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how. I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.” He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before. “No. Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry. Quit asking. I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine. Uh. You… the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then. No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder. Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat. Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting. It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself. It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting. Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him. A choice he made because it just fit him best. You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you. You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence. Not… everything else’s. Now it’s haunting again. Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes. Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance. Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will. You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid. You’re quiet but in a different way from Din. When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to. When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right. What were you thinking, wanting to tag along? Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant. Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though. That still stings a bit. This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time. Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally? You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap. He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there. You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either. The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be. He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is. You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms. There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny. He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull. There’s a good chance he’s already asleep. “I think… he might still be mad at me. Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation. That’s not gonna work, come on. They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips. It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?” You ask him, unable to even fathom. “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength. You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again. It’s just as well, you figure. He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time. You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be. So big, crammed into such a tiny place. You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace. He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time. You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door? The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be. You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?” You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor. A complete mystery again. Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.” His voice stops you dead in your tracks. It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter. “I… hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

And… Maker, if anybody else had said it. If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment. But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted. That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it. This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now. Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before. Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him. He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is. “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to. It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before. Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time. “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well. Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet. “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it. “Shit. I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly. “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way. I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel. I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?” He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused. “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…” Now you’re confused. “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything. “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now. “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing. He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all? By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.” He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground. “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor. “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?” He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they? You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little. You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?” Din asks you, the words sounding cautious. Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all. “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this? It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed. Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did. Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier. It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now. At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have. You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second. There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him. Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral. “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that. What are you, an eight year old? Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life? Credits? Time? Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal. Why is he even entertaining this right now? “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words. “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall. Someplace to find for yourself. Explore. Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that. Like he… just inherently understands. He knows.

He knows you. He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying. You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now. “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing. “Ever. And not because you can’t handle it, understand?” He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to. “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars. He’s… too kind. You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve. You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to. Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands. You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it. “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit. Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints. That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din. Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this. Yikes, this is a toughie. “Um. If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words. “Say what you mean. Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain. “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry. It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before. If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week. But only if you want to, you don’t have to. It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise? Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah. Well.” You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that. As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up. You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?” Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest. So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?” You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you. You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip. You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable. One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker. The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you. Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue. “Forgive me. Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed. But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing. Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through. You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours. It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…” You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic. It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good. Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you. “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering. Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes. “There could be, but I don’t know it. I’d use… out of a million million millions. Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier. Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation. How is that possible? You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through. You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t. You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower. You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?” You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth. The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall. Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on. “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…” You blink, surprised. “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay. You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it. He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you. “You’re going to run.”

“Um.” You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised. “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation. “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee. “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves. He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside. “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire. You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start. You’re going to run from me. Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now? You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised. Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?” He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay! Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone. “One. This is a safe world, but things can always happen. You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only. Do not shoot me with it. Do you understand?” You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow. “Out loud, please. For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you. “Do not… shoot at me. Near me. Around me. No, just—don’t shoot. Unless I am… very far away. Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that. You frown, but acquiesce regardless. “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words. “Second rule. Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either. We’re on foot. I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair. “Good.”

“Three,” he says. “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you. Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight. What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod. “Also not really a rule. Please continue.”

“Four.” He pauses for a second. “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back. “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide. “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it. I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious? “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you. “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet. Trust me.”

You… do. Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do. If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin. It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it? It actually sounds right on par for him. “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly. “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright? I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises. Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening. “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too. Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly. It is a very, very stern tilt. “Okay. New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows. “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious. “Us. Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate. “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh. Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting. “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry. You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine. “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator. Not mean or harsh, but firm. “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not. When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground. “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest. There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud. It… really is a struggle for him too, then. You understand.

“Okay,” you nod. There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given. You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself. It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more. “Final rule. I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe. Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies. He doesn’t do that. Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?” You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you. Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself. “This is your communicator. It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance. I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days. If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.” Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other. Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head. His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator. “Gar darasuum.” For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain. You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning. Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here. Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way. The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?” You ask, already clueless. “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side. “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me. You know how I think. I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…” He slowly shakes his head. “See me. Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now. “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time. “Remember what I told you a long time ago? What your best weapon is?”

You… do not. He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast. You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?” Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers. “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet. So…” He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy. “Don’t try to outrun, okay? Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.

Outsmart. Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking. His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know. You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair. Are you going to a city? Would there be one in walking distance? The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals. The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him. He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long. Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement. He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #reader insert #the mandalorian #rough day #no-droids

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mar-the-magician · 2 years ago

Text

Be Well, Dearest Love

Not enough Cam and Lasko (Easy Breezy) out there so I made this— pls be kind 😅

Sitting across the table from his close friend-turned-crush in a quiet cafe filled with abstract art and baked treats, Lasko twisted the fidget ring Cam had given him a while back to help with his nerves. It did help, a little bit, but it was no match for a the gulf of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He was about to confess to his crush, for crying out loud! It was completely natural to feel a bit unsettled. But maybe not quite so unsettled that he might throw up…

"Lasko. What’s wrong?" Cam's sympathetic eyes helped Lasko more than any ring ever could. He knew he couldn’t hide his feelings from the daemon— and no matter how Cam felt about him, Lasko knew he would be kind about it. So he decided to get straight to the point.

"N- ah, nothing's wrong, Cam, I just, ah, I-I-I need to tell you something. S-something really important to me. I-i-if you don’t mind…"

"Of course, I’m happy to listen. What is it?"

"I-I-I guess you probably already know, or— or, or at least suspect, since y'know, you can sense my emotions— I mean, daemon and all that!" He chuckled nervously.

"… But ah, but since you ah, never said anything about it I figured maybe, y’know, you just, wanted to hear it straight from me, or, or, maybe you just somehow never noticed, or didn’t connect the dots— n-not that I think you’re stupid! Or anything like that! Fuck, no, you’re like, one of the most intelligent, understanding people I know, I would never… think that about you o-o-or want you to think I thought that or a-a-anything like tha—“

"Lasko."

"Hm?" His voice was squeaky.

"You’re spiraling. Do you… want to take couple deep breaths with me before you tell me what you needed to tell me? I think it would help make it easier for you."

"Y-yeah. Yes please. I-I'm so sorry, I always do that— and I get all wrapped up in my own head and then you have to try to calm me down and— fuck, Cam, I-I'm sorry I’m always like this—“

"You’re not a bother, or a burden, or a nuisance, or any of the things I know you’re thinking right now. Everyone has the things they have to bear. Yours happens to be… nervousness. Overthinking sometimes. That’s natural and okay, and I’ve been in situations with people who had far more… inconvenient problems many times in the past. Now breath with me?"

"Yes. Thank you, Cam."

"Don’t mention it. I think you know this one— it’s intended to slow your heart rate and prevent hyperventilation, or anything along that line. Breathe in, slowly, while counting to four." Lasko inhaled and counted.

"Hold your breath while counting to seven."

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

"And now breath out, again slowly, while counting to eight. Very, very good. Now we’re going to repeat that five times, okay?"

At the end of the exercise, Lasko realized he had closed his eyes. Cam's voice was just so calming… fuck, he loved his voice.

"I’m just gonna say this all in one rush, because if I don’t say it now, I might not ever say it. Camilopardalis, I… I think I’m in love with you and— I've-never-felt-so-strongly-about-someone-and-honestly-it-kind-of-scares-me-because-what-if-you-don’t-feel-the-same-way-and-then-I-can’t-get-over-you, o-o-o-or-what-if-it-ruins-our-friendship— and it’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same way and when I actually think about it, I know you wouldn’t let it ruin our friendship, but it’s still just really nerve-wracking and I—“

Hand. Warm hand. On top of his hand. Cam had put his hand on top of Lasko's.

"Hey," he leaned his head forward until they made eye-contact.

"I like you too, dearest."

"R-r-really? I mean, you, you don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, seriously, I’ll be okay if you—“

"If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it.” He touched his forehead to Lasko's.

"You were right earlier. I wanted to hear it directly from you. While I could sense the rush of joy and affection every time you saw me (and I am flattered by the way) I didn’t want to act until you were ready to tell me. It didn’t seem fair, especially to a humanborn who hadn’t had exposure to magic from a young age. I love how intelligent you are, how dedicated to your work you are, how much you care for the people around you. I love your sense of humor and your deeply engrained morals. I love your eyes and your soft, fidgeting hands and how you always order the same thing or some variation on it, no matter what cafe we're in, and your unmatched prowess in Super Smash Bros. I love you, and I want to be your boyfriend if… you’re ready for that." Lasko was blushing and gasping. Then smiling. Then laughing.

"Yes! Okay! Yes! I am absolutely ready for that! I’ve been ready since like, the third time we saw each other!" Cam started laughing too. They sat there like that for a while, just existing close to each other. Then Cam looked down.

"Lasko…"

"Yes?"

"I have to go soon— may… may I…"

"Hm…?" Cam whispered "May I kiss you?"

"Oh! Um— y-ye-yes. Yes please." Cam chuckled a little.

"Thank you." And then they were kissing. And oh wow Cam's lips were soft. And warm. He was so close… what did he smell like? Some kind of spice that Lasko couldn’t identify. And lotuses. He smelled like lotuses. Lasko was tingling from head to toes, tunnel vision on Cam's lips and his lips.

Finally they broke away.

"I have to go. I’ll message you later… be well, dearest love."

Don’t touch me, I am soft. I love them together so much. Anyway, first time really posting any of my fanfic online, so pleeeeeaaassee be kind to me.

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tenkasato · 3 years ago

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Hellow, Ten~ May I make a request with some Gojo comfort fluff? Something like what you wrote with Megumi x nurse reader? Alittle angst if you must? TY in advance!

Alright. It was supposed to be angst... but it turned out more fluff than angst which I HAD NOT intended. There's a sprinkle of angst so I hope you like that, anon. Enjoy!

A Modest Invitation

Scenario: Gojo is feeling down, and you have ways to entertain him.

Warning: suggestive language, swearing, overloaded fluff I guess

As far as Gojo Satoru was concerned, this was his favorite time of the day.

Business was the same as usual. Curses to exorcise and erase from existence. Problems to mull over and draft solutions to. Children to nurture and guide. And so on, so on, so on, and so forth...

Mind you, being the strongest sorcerer doesn't exempt you from feeling burned out.

He buried his face unto your stomach, nuzzling his nose on the thin fabric that covered your skin and inhaling your fresh, floral scent. Being able to touch you, to feel your existence palpable under his fingers gave him a relief that kept him sane for the past few days.

You were still here. Alive. Breathing. With him.

"Not going to tell me I’m heavy?" he asked as he smiled against you.

You clicked your tongue, and with a trace of amusement and affection, you said, "You won’t be getting off me even if I did, right? So, what’s the point?"

"My wife is such a smart woman."

"Sure am," you snorted.

He felt your hand run through his still wet hair in ginger strokes, straightening the tangles at the tips and drawing circles on his scalp. He heaved a heavy sigh.

Your fingers stopped midway between a stroke. "Something wrong, Satoru?"

Satoru raised his head in surprise. "Huh?"

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, come on. I’ve known you since we were in diapers. I know what every sigh you make means.”

Satoru held you in his stare, and you couldn't help but drown into those aquamarine eyes that engulfs your whole existence. You loved those eyes. You loved them dearly.

“I heard you worked with your ex today,” he said in a quiet voice. The unease in his tone made you blink. He had tried to speak with nonchalance but you heard the apprehension nonetheless.

"Is someone jealous?" you teased, the smirk in your face unconcealed. "Glad the day finally came."

He snapped his head up to meet your gaze, lifting his torso up with his arms so he could properly fix you a heated, sullen glare. "Not funny."

"Oh, come on. I used to get jealous of your ladies before. Give me a chance to be the one getting jealous over this time."

"That doesn't sound fair," he whined this time. Satoru crawled towards you until his face was directly over yours. "You're doing it on purpose."

You stared back at him innocently. "And why would I do that?”

He lied down beside you with his arm caged around your torso. You shifted and snuggled up to him.

You reached out to his face as if to console him, pressing the pads of your fingers on his jaw and thumbing his lower lip. You stayed like that for a couple more minutes, basking under the dim light by the corner and plainly listening to each other’s breathing. He thought you had fallen asleep when you had stopped moving, until he felt a light pressure on his chin.

“Jokes aside,” you started when he finally got a look at you, “are you okay? I didn't think you'd be bothered by something like that. You know there's nothing to worry about my ex, right?”

Glancing away, he said, embarrassed, “It’s… I feel so insignificant lately.”

The stare you returned was so intense he could feel your eyes boring into him even without having to look at you. You didn’t ask him to elaborate. You waited, knowing he needed time to articulate his thoughts. Sometimes, he wished you weren't this receptive to him. Being so weak in front of you made him loathe himself even more than he already had.

The day you got married, he poured his heart out with promises of being your respite, your fortress, your source of joy. He thought he could, but with all the responsibilities piled on top of his head, he realized he couldn't give you all the time you deserved.

How many times had he missed your call?

How many times did you have to sleep on the bed at night, cold and alone?

How many times did you hide your tears from him because you didn't want to be an additional burden?

“Look at me,” your voice was a mere whisper.

Reluctantly, he did. He gazed at your serene smile, a glimmer of adoration covering your eyes with a sheen.

Then, with all sinceirty and seriousness, you said, “Wanna fuck?”

Taken aback, Satoru recoiled from you, nearly knocking himself out of the bed. He gaped at you as if you’d just openly admitted being a vampire for a century now.

You let out a string of rude laughter at his stupefied state. “I really love it when you blush like that.”

“You—aren’t you being too bold with—with—you know what? Never mind,” he groaned and inched back into your outstretched arms. “I should’ve been used to your unpredictable, horny episodes.”

“Hey, I ain’t horny now,” you retorted, slightly scandalized. “It just looked like you could use some.”

“It’s hardly the time,” he grumbled with the roll of his eyes.

You, with all the theatrics of a broadway actress, pressed your hand on your chest and gasped. “Oh my goodness. Who are you? My husband would never have turned me down for sex.”

He hissed your name with a warning tone.

The mischievous mold in your face ebbed away like melting wax. Your eyes were speaking to him in a language he could not decipher, in a volume so quiet it was deafening. Whatever emotion you were trying to emanate to him, the unsaid promise of devotion and love—they were so painfully genuine it made his heart ache.

Your face broke into a smile, bitter and sweet, and he found himself returning it.

Suddenly, your smile evolved into nasty Cheshire cat grin, and that alone should’ve been enough cue for him to retreat. But he was a second too late from reacting when your hand shot out and pinched his nose hard.

He let out a yell of utter surprise and pain, earning a roar of thunderous laughter from the despicable you beside him. Cheeks burning, he grabbed his pillow and without preamble, threw it at your face.

You squealed at his sudden retaliation. Wasting no time, you released your battle cry and threw your entire frame in an attempt to tackle him. He smirked at the futile attack but his cockiness came blowing in his face when you poked at his sides.

“Hey!” he yelped as you tickled. “Hey—haha—HEY—“

“Do you—“ you grunted as he pinched your cheeks raw, “—yield?”

“Hell no,” he spits, “not when I’m winning—pAHAHAHA—!”

Satoru took you by surprise when he wrapped his legs around you, pinning his knees on both sides of your hips and twisted his body. You weren't given a chance to yell. Your back connected with the bed with him sitting on top of your thighs, a triumphant grin painted on his face.

“Do you yield?” he asked, catching your wrists before you took another jab at his ribs.

“You do know,” you huffed, “that I can take you down. If I wanted to, yeah?”

“I have no doubts,” he chuckled almost proudly. “But you’re too pure-hearted to hurt the love of your life.”

“Hmm... cocky little bastard.”

“But you love me,” he insisted.

You exhaled in exasperation. “Come here before you suffocate my thighs.”

Laughing, he obliged, lying back beside you all ruffled and warm inside. As you had always, you scooted closer and laid your head on his chest, arm and leg thrown over the rest of his body.

Your sigh of contentment was music to his ears.

“Feel better now?”

“A lot better.”

“Ready to talk now?”

He hugged you closer. He wanted to be closer even though he didn't know how to. If there's anything he's afraid of, it's not being enough for you.

“You matter,” you said, as if reading his frown and hearing his thoughts. “You matter the most to me.”

He turned to embrace you fully, planting a kiss on your forehead. His fingers gingerly ghosted your spine, easing you into his body.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hmm?”

He let his hand slide down your back to your bottom and squeezed, his solemn features morphing to a wolfish smirk.

“Mind if I take you up on that offer?”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #jujustu kaisen #anon request

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amysubmits · 3 years ago

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“Just Knowing” & Communication

I got an ask recently asking if I could write something about how doms seem to sometimes “instinctively know” things about their sub, and how communication plays into that.

I thought it was a great point, and I had an experience that I’d been wanting to share in some way, that I thought would work well within that concept. Anyway, here goes...

I have shared experiences where CD reads my needs seamlessly. Those moments can feel almost magical and that makes me want to share them. I have occasionally heard from people who seem to think CD is nearly capable of reading my mind, as a result of posts like that. It’s not my intention to give that impression.

There are occasional moments where I am shocked at how he knows things I didn’t say. I’ve also shared that sometimes those moments where he perfectly meets my needs are often the moments where I feel the most owned. That’s because him knowing and meeting my needs feels so intensely intimate, and so much of our D/s comes down to emotional intimacy.

He isn’t a mind reader, though. We have been together over a decade now, and he’s observant. I think that deserves a big mention, when discussing how he ‘just knows’ things about me. He notices my body language, and how I react to things. He learns a lot about me by simply paying close attention. This is really important to me. Him naturally watching me, noticing my mood and such, is a big way that he makes me feel loved. I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t naturally drawn to try to learn me, and pay close attention to me. Just him being someone who pays attention is a huge part of how I feel loved. It shows me that he wants to know as much as he can about me, and that he wants to meet my needs. More than that, his desire to want to learn my needs period, matters. There are some people who just don’t wish to get that deep with their partner, they don’t care to know their partner like the back of their had. That would be a problem, for me, because I do want that level of intimacy. Part of how I knew that CD had that desire for deeper intimacy, was how he tried to learn what he could by observing me.

At the same time, being mindful of your loved one’s body language, facial expressions and behaviors only goes so far. You can’t observe your way into knowing exactly what someone wants or needs. You just can’t. Certain things just have to be explicitly stated. While a good portion of our emotional intimacy comes from paying close attention to each other, more of it comes from our communication.

The truth is, there have been times where I’ve been frustrated that CD didn’t catch something. I’ve occasionally had the emotional reaction of almost feeling neglected because he didn’t notice something about me. And that? Is not a healthy reaction for me to have. That reaction is something I have to try to be conscious of, and I can’t allow myself to run away with those feelings. I have to recognize them and fight back against them. Because I can’t expect him to read my mind, or to pick up on everything, to ‘just know’ everything, or anything, really. If he isn’t aware of something, it is my responsibility to communicate.

We were new to D/s in particular, we talked about our needs and wants all the time, often daily. Getting started with D/s requires really thorough communication so that you know the boundaries and limits of the dynamic, and so that you know what is expected of each of you. Even though we tried to hammer out our dynamic in advance, we found ourselves experiencing scenarios that we weren’t sure how they ‘should’ be handled with our D/s, because we couldn’t pre-plan our D/s for how to go about every possible scenario that life may throw at us. So whenever we experienced something new and didn’t know how to handle it, we’d have to discuss how we wanted to handle it. Or in there cases we’d handle a situation and then realize we wished it had been handled differently, and we’d discuss that and plan to do differently next time.

After a while (many months?) it got to where we had the basics down and we didn’t need to talk about things as often anymore. We didn’t have to discuss it multiple times a week anymore, but perhaps a couple times a month was sufficient. Still, the frequency ebbs and flows. We go through phases, even now, 6 years in, of discussing our D/s more or less often. It mainly depends on whether we’re facing new things in life or making changes to our rules or the rest of our dynamic, or whether life is normal and our dynamic is unchanged. If we make changes, that means we’ll communicate about our D/s more often for a while, usually. Tons of what we know about each other and our needs are things we’ve learned through all that communication. Way more than we’ve learned by just observing each other.

Our “meta-talks” (discussions about our D/s) are perhaps one of the areas that I don’t give enough attention to on this blog. They’re often very private feeling, so it’s hard to feel comfortable sharing much about them.

A couple of months ago after a meta-talk, we came to the conclusion that it would be helpful for us to focus on making sure I feel very seen. It wasn’t that I had stopped feeling seen...but more that our current life circumstances were making me need to feel more seen than usual. Anyway, CD had me make him a list of things that made me feel seen, to share with him.

The things I shared on that list were all things he had done “naturally” before. So it was more about sharing with him what things he does that make me feel particularly seen. Still, I did over-think it, a little bit. I wondered if it would feel different for him to do these things for me after I shared them with him, rather than doing them purely instinctually, like he had in the past. Would it feel less genuine? Would I be able to absorb it and really effectively feel see if I suspected he was doing this for the purpose of making me feel seen?

Early on, I did feel a bit bashful or self-conscious when I noticed him doing those things a little bit more often. I felt a bit insecure like “Oh, he just thinks he has to do that because I need to feel more seen.” and for some reason that cheapened it a little in my mind, and also made me feel a bit selfish or something. Worrying about being a burden on people is a deep seeded insecurity of mine that comes in up all sorts of ways. So it’s not surprising that my brain tried to twist this into ‘he just feels obligated to’. Even early on when I was feeling those insecurities, I was feeling seen, at the same time. As more time went on though, those insecurities softened and I was able to recognize that these things were feeling fulfilling to him, too, which further eased my insecurities.

This is just one example of how our direct communication has benefitted our D/s. When this type of thing occurs over the course of many years, I hope you can imagine how that can assist with creating those “he just knows” moments.

I think a lot of good relationships have similar experiences with hesitating to share exactly what you want from your partner. The love is there, the good intent is there, but unless you tell your partner exactly what makes you feel the best...you can’t magically expect them to know. Yet many of us have this instinct that “I can’t tell them exactly how I’d like them to treat me, or it won’t be as ‘real’”.

I think D/s often complicates this issue even farther. Subs hesitate to ask for ‘too much’ because they don’t want to be too needy, or to feel like they’re taking charge or telling their doms what to do. Which I think is a valid concern. In my view, the answer to that potential problem isn’t to avoid sharing what make you feel good. Instead, it’s just to be mindful of the way that you are communicating, so that you are sharing the knowledge of your needs or desires without telling them what to do.

Communicating in great detail is a huge part of how we find the intimacy that we’re after with D/s. Understanding in detail what makes each other feel dominant and submissive does SO much to assist us with keeping our D/s on track, and to keep each other feeling loved and cared for. These deep, difficult, detailed discussions are also helpful to our D/s because they make me realize how safe our relationship is. That sense of security allows me to let go and be more submissive.

As I said earlier, I understand that instinct that if you tell someone exactly what you want, and then they do it, your initial instinct may be to feel like it’s less meaningful when they do it. Like asking for it somehow ‘cheapened’ it.

I think that is a largely misguided instinct, though. I think that if you tell someone what feels good to you, and they do it just to placate you or please you? You can tell they’re just phoning it in. And if you tell them what makes you feel good, and they do it because they enjoy making you feel good? You’ll feel that too.

It’s similar to how starting D/s worked for us. When I first asked for it, I worried it would be something he did just for me. But once he found meaning in it himself? I could tell that our D/s was fulfilling for him, that it was giving him joy, and that he was really feeling the connection with me through this dynamic. It was just easy to see that he was really ‘feeling it’. A similar thing can happen with "smaller” things such as specific acts of love, care or service.

#writing #sccwriting #d/s #domestic discipline

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skiitter · 3 years ago

Note

Also in my roundabout way I would like to request a Lann ficlet, start with angst but make it happy? or just happy. Or just anything because you are a great writer!!

okay so uh this got away from me but here's 3.8k words of lann pining after the commander and being an idiot in love.

He is not staring. He is restringing his longbow after their latest run in with the remaining demons still lingering in the area, that's it. He is absolutely not staring at his two companions huddled together across the fire. He is not watching with rapt, singular focus at their every interaction, seeking answers in her soft words, his sardonic remarks. The Aasimar gestures rudely with his hands, and she laughs loud, the chorus of it echoing through the empty ramparts. When Daeran dips his head low to whisper in her ear, the skin of her neck flushes and Lann forces himself to look away.

He's pretty sure they're sleeping together. It's hard to know for sure, thanks to his complete lack of experience in interpersonal relationships, not to mention his one and only lover having been someone he'd known since birth. Wenduag was a blunt edge of expectation, and Lann always knew exactly what was happening between them. When it comes to the Commander and Daeran, however, he isn't totally sure.

That unknowing, that gray area of wretched hope, is killing him. Falling for her was not on the agenda, seeing as she'll live for hundreds of years and he's lucky if he's got a decade left. Not to mention that she's (probably) gonna save the world and he's just some Mongrel who's legacy won't extend beyond the small role he's played in the crusade. He's never been a glutton for punishment, what with life underground being horrid enough already, but there is a sweet sting in accepting his unrequited love for her that he can't shake. It drives him, despite it's doomed end, to do whatever he can for her fight. If he cannot give her his heart, he will give her his life.

"You're staring," Seelah whispers, her hulking form crouched next to him as she sharpens her longsword.

"Can you blame me? Looking forlornly into the campfire is just one of my many talents."

Seelah chuckles and jerks her head slightly towards the Commander and Daeran. "Oh you're looking forlornly alright, but it's not at the flames. You should talk to her."

"I do talk to her. I talk to her everyday. Are you saying you don't? Honestly Seelah, she's your commander, you--"

"Fine fine, play coy. I'm just saying Lann, we could die at any minute. Do you really not want her to know how you feel?"

Lann swallows, the ugly reminder of mortality and how the sword strung above him dangles far lower than the Commander's tightening the sinew around his heart. "Sh--she doesn't need any more burdens. The Commander's got enough going on, what with that pesky Worldwound thing." He spares one last glance before turning his body away, enduring the biting cold as the heat of the fire leaves his scaled skin. "She doesn't want to deal with a lovesick Mongrel and really, who could blame her?"

"How could you possibly know what she wants if you don't talk to her?"

"Because it's not her wants I'm concerned with, it's her needs. And she needs me to be good ol' reliable Lann. She needs me to shoot my arrows and kill the baddies. She needs--she needs something she can count on and that something is me."

The Abyss happens all at once and it's a miserable experience for them all. Their time in Drezen made him soft, he thinks, because the camp at the Nexus is horrifically uncomfortable. The ground is somehow colder and harder than any other he's slept on and no amount of fire really chases away the shadows.

They spend a significant amount of time in Alushinyrra, and a significant amount of money staying at the Bad Luck Tavern just to avoid the discomforts of the Nexus. It's on one such expensive stay that a group of frankly moronic thugs try and rob the Commander while she sleeps. Her ever-present and ruthlessly protective Velociraptor dispenses them in quick measure, ripping the throat out of the final victim before Lann even has his bow drawn.

Up until that point they'd opted for three rooms, in groups of two, but they downsize to one after the attack. The Commander's life was hardly in danger but playing with fate isn't something she likes to do, chaotic nature be damned. The tavern owner grumbles but, with a golden incentive, allows them to drag one of the other beds into the room so the sleeping arrangements aren't quite so cramped.

Ember curls up into the Commander's side, her sisterly affection having transformed them from companions to near family. Woljif takes the other bed, offering half of it to Regill. The severe gnome answers him with a severe look and Woljif extends the offer to Lann instead. He glances at Daeran but the Aasimar is already tucking himself into the space between the Commander and the wall. With not a small amount of jealousy, Lann resigns himself to his fate and joins Woljif.

A soft rustling pulls him from a restless slumber some time later and Lann wakes just in time to see the Commander whisper something to Regill, who is stationed at the door, before slipping into the hallway with Daeran in tow. He watches them until they vanish and, as he looks away, makes uncomfortable eye-contact with the gnome. Regill's face is as impassive as always, but Lann feels guilty for some reason, like a kid caught with his hand in the rat cage.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Regill asks him as they head out the next morning. Well, not morning since there is no sun or sky or joy in Alushinyrra.

"Hard to say, this city does tend to be a bit on the rough side," Lann responds.

"The Commander has assured me any physical relationships she has with the party aren't going to be a problem." It's not a question but it's not not a question and Lann looks around to make sure the others aren't paying attention.

"We uh, we aren't in a physical relationship?"

"I know."

"Riiiiiight."

"But you want to be, which is arguably worse. So I'll ask you again, is this going to be a problem?"

It occurs to Lann that he should probably do a slightly better job of keeping his apparently obvious feelings on the Commander to himself. "Uh, no. No, it's not." Regill doesn't seem satisfied but then again, when does he ever? "Is uh, I mean, are the Commander and Daeran--"

"I do not gossip," Regill snarls. "Bother the thief with nonsense like that."

Lann does not, in fact, bother the thief with nonsense like that. Instead, he pushes down the swelling of affection he feels at every interaction with the Commander and focuses on the mission. It goes well enough, all things considered, until Savamelekh shows up and nearly kills him.

The demon's revelations are a bit too much for his overtaxed heart to bear and the subsequent bender doesn't help at all. When the Commander finds him, though, he just babbles on about wanting to prove to her he can be what she wants, what she needs, and that she can trust him. "I want to be somebody you can count on. I don't have anything to offer apart from my bow and my dumb jokes....and my life. And they're all yours, if you want them." He glances away, shame and discomfort crushing him from the inside out. "But I doubt you do, not now that I've let you down."

"....I could never turn my back on someone I care about just like that." She's been talking this whole time but it's these words that register hard and fast. Lann stares at her, and she stares back, and the weight of things unsaid on her face is a blessed curse. He forces a smile, bashful but steady, and pulls away from the conversation. It's too much to think about, especially because hope is not his friend, despite its insistence on hanging around.

Later, back at camp, away from everyone but her sharp-eyed Velociraptor, the Commander comes for him. He's not avoiding her, not that he really could thanks to the nature of their new normal in the Abyss, but he's not not avoiding her either. He's sitting at the edge of the cliff, staring out over the sea of fire and the city of demons. She sits beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and they are quiet for a long time.

"Next time I get drunk and come to pour my heart out to you, I'll jot down notes first," he says lightly, glancing at her. Her face is hard to read, not the open expression she'd given him back at the tavern, but he knows her well enough to know she's bothered by something. "I'm kidding of course. I'd never do that -- I don't do notes, I improvise."

"Why do you do that?"

"Improvisation is just one of my many skills, honed from my illustrious life as a Mongrel hunter. Sometimes, you got out to hunt for some rats and end up fighting a--"

"Lann, stop." He does, if only because her tone is firm. "Why do you always demean what you say with humor?"

"I'm....funny like that?"

She scowls at him and her raptor lets out a soft hiss. He's pretty sure they're connected, somehow, because otherwise that would be just plain freaky. "I love that you're funny, Desna knows we need something lighthearted with Regill around, but sometimes I--" She falters, his rocksteady monument of a Commander, and it scares him. "Sometimes I just want you to tell me how you feel."

His heart races, and hope is such a dangerous, cruel thing. "I did tell you how I felt...I meant what I said, back at the tavern. I...I'd do anything for you." The confession settles between them, demanding to be addressed.

"For me, or for the crusade, for the cause?" She's asking him a different question, he thinks.

"I--"

"Because Lann, I--you are--"

"What about Daeran?" He says it in a rush, because he can't handle whatever it is she's trying to confess.

"What about Daeran?"

"Aren't you--ya know--"

"Lann, would you do anything for me or for the crusade? To whom are you pledging your life too? Is it me? I need to know because I cannot carry on like this."

More shame, some more guilt, all for Lann. Of course his unwanted affections made her uncomfortable, of course he took her caring treatment of him to mean more than it was supposed to. He wants to leave, because he also kind of wants to cry. "Commander..."

"Not commander. Lann, please for this moment can I just be a person to you?"

She's crying, for some reason, and he doesn't know what to do. "You're always a person to me. I--you know that."

"To whom do you pledge your life?"

In the end, he knows what's more important. "The--the crusade." Lann knows that she needs to be able to rely on him without thinking he's reading into her every action, her every word. His wants are second to her needs, just as it should be.

Her face crumples, though, and the twist of her mouth breaks his heart. "Right. Okay. Of course." She stands, dusting her robes off and refuses to look him in the eye. Lann realizes immediately that he's said the wrong thing, despite his efforts to do the exact opposite.

"Commander--"

"Have a good night, Lann. Thank you for….thank you for clearing that up."

Her raptor snarls at him when he stands up to stop her and she is gone.

The next day, she announces they are heading deep into the heart of the Abyss. And, for the first time since he followed her out of the dark and into the sun, she leaves him behind.

Six months. Six long, bloody, dangerous months. He runs point with Greybor, struggling to keep the Commander's hoard of refugees safe, and spends each watch with Solsiel, pointedly not talking about their missing leader.

Several times the idea of her death comes up and he stops fighting against it. He's pretty sure they'd leave but there is no where to go. Groups of demons hunt them for sport and it's a miracle he's able to keep himself in one piece. Nenio is insufferable. Seelah is too positive. He misses Ember, and Wolfji. He misses Regill and his cold practicality. He misses the Commander and the smile she used to shoot him when he'd struck down an enemy in their path.

Eventually, it's just the five of them left. Every other life she'd saved has been systematically eradicated by the horrors of the Abyss. Still, they wait because what else are they supposed to do?

She returns, of course, because she's more myth than woman these days. What was six horrific months in hell for those left behind, was less than two weeks for them. Two weeks. The Commander doesn't cry when she sees the devastation that's been wrought in the wake of her absence. Her left hand trembles, but she stays strong. Just as quickly as they'd come, she shows them the way home.

Drezen is in shambles and it takes another week just to kill the demon forces that have taken their city. In that week, she treats him as warmly as she does Greybor. That is to say, her polite indifference is breaking him.

As things return to normal, and he contends with the loss of his tribe, Lann considers what to do. He's messed up, somehow, and he's spent six months worrying over it. He's pretty sure she wanted him to admit that it was to her he swore his life. He's pretty sure he knows why. A (admittedly short) life spent hunting for things unseen and he completely missed the things she'd tried to say.

He misses her feverishly. She's busy, daily, managing the shambles left of her crusade armies after the Queen had her way with them. The party has yet to leave Drezen since returning and Daeran has yet to leave the Commander's side. Lann feels replaced, usurped, and he cannot take it anymore.

Her door is shut, but there is candlelight spilling out underneath. Before the courage leaves him, he knocks and calls out her name.

"Lann?" She opens the door and he's half expecting to see Daeran, arrogant and naked, sprawled across her bed. Instead it's just her, exhausted and anxious, looking at him with a guarded expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, ya know, just everything." He tries for humorous but it comes out pathetic and they both frown. "Can I--can I come in?"

She steps aside, allowing him entrance. He's never been here, in all his time in Drezen, and while he's not totally sure what he expected, it's still a surprise. Her quarters are small, smaller than the house she'd given him upon their initial taking of the city. The desk is covered in maps and missives, and her gear is in a pile by the door. The raptor has a bed, set up beside her own, and Lann is pretty sure it looks far more comfortable than the Commander's. There is nowhere to sit so they both just stand there, awkward and uncomfortable, as she closes the door.

"What's going on? Have you heard from the clan?"

That particular sting of worry rolls over him and Lann shakes his head to push it away. "No, not yet. All quiet on the Mongrel front."

"I'm sorry, Lann." She reaches out for a moment, as if to comfort him, but stops herself short. "We'll find them, I promise."

"I didn't come here to talk about the clan."

"Okay."

"Boy, is this awkward. Uhm," he clears his throat to buy time. "Do you remember that last conversation we had?"

Her expression becomes an echo of the one she wore that night. "I do."

"I uh, I would like to do it over again."

The Commander narrows her eyes. "Why?"

Lann runs a hand through his hair, and stares at the wall beside her because if he looks at her, he'll fall apart. "I think I messed it up."

"Lann, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I kinda do."

She shakes her head. "It's okay I know that--what you said it's--we're fine."

"You were gone for six months, ya know. Six shitty, ugly months. You've never left me behind before." It's not an accusation but she flinches anyway. "I had a lot of time to think. Not a lot else to do, really. Well, aside from entertaining Nenio and rejecting Camellia's frankly terrifying propositions."

"She asked to sleep with you?" The Commander is suddenly furious and Lann is shameless in how warm her indignation makes him feel.

"Well, not in so many words and really, I'm kind of dense, but sneaking into my bed at night was--"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--what?"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--I don't know what you think sex with a Mongrel is like--"

"You slept together?" Her fury simmers down and turns her face cold.

"No! This isn't about that. I don't want to talk about Camellia. It was only once and--no. She didn't--we--nothing happened."

"You could--"

"Commander, excuse the insubordination here, but please shut up. This isn't easy and I'm losing my nerve." She frowns, but stays silent. "I want to change my answer."

"To what question?"

"To the one you asked me that night. I lied."

"What?" The inflection is too hopeful and Lann forces himself to look at her.

"It's not for the crusade or the cause or the world. It's--it's for you. My life, I mean. I'm pledging it to you. I misread things, I didn't understand what you meant. I--my life, my bow, my dumb jokes, it's yours." He struggles not to fidget, or downplay what he's saying with humor. She's staring at him, and she's crying but this time he knows why. "And my heart. If--if you want it. It's yours."

"Lann," she whispers and closes the gap between them. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his face, and they are trembling. It's a perfect match to his own shaking nerves. "Are you sure?"

He laughs, and it's watery. "It's hardly something precious to me. It's just all I have to give you and--and well really, it's already yours."

"How long?"

"Ugh no, the last thing you need to know is how long I've been pining over you."

"It was the Gargoyle attack for me, the one at the camp." She confesses it so easily, and he's rendered speechless. "When it was you that came to find me and tell me everyone was taken, my very first thought was relief; relief because they didn't take you." She presses her forehead to his own, their noses brushing. "From the moment we left for Colyphyr, I regretted leaving you behind. I could barely focus for the first few days because I was so worried about you. Every day I woke up, expecting to see you, to talk to you, and you weren't there and it was my fault. I was so mad at myself for letting my stupid feelings get in the way but the thought of having you near and knowing you'd never want me that way it--" her voice breaks and he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have realized what you were asking, I--"

"No, I'm sorry," She pulls back to look at him. "I'm so sorry I didn't just come right out and ask you how you felt. I was just scared, scared of rejection and what I would do if you said no."

"I would never--I love you." He reddens from ear to tail and he immediately wants to take it back.

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

"Well, I didn't really want to just come out and say it. I was hoping for a little more romance. Some candles, maybe a rat shaped pastry or two. We could probably get someone to play--"

"I love you, too." She captures his mouth with her own before he can stumble over anymore words and Lann relents happily to her efforts. She kisses him like he's always wanted to kiss her, all passion and tenderness, and disgustingly sincere affection. Their arms wind around one another and she pulls him to her bed.

Lann stops her. "We don't have too, really. I know I'm not exactly easy to look at--"

"Lann. I’m only going to say this once, so pay attention.” She sets him down beside her and once more takes his face in her hands. “Don’t you ever, ever talk about yourself that way again, okay? I love you, all of you, every bit and I want you, in any and every way you’ll let me.” She kissed him again, softly. “We don’t have to rush into anything, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just--just please know that, regardless of what you’ve been told, you’re beautiful and--and I will happily take you to bed every night.”

“Just to bed?” He aims for suggestive and, every bit the archer, he strikes true. “But there are so many other places I wish to be taken.”

“We’ll have a veritable world tour of it, but for now, can I have you here? Because this is all I’ve thought about for months and if I don’t fulfill that fantasy, I may die.”

“Regill would have my head for that.”

“He is possibly the least sexy person you could bring up at this point in time.”

Lann crowds into her, forcing her backwards until he has her pinned beneath him. “Imagine the report I’d have to write: Knight-Commander of the Fifth Crusade dies because local Mongrel fails to fulfill her sexual fantasies.” He kisses her once before moving his attention down the breadth of her jawline, and onto her neck. Her breath hitches, pressing her body up into his. “Good thing that’ll never happen because I’m a terrible writer.”

“Lann,” it’s nearly a whine, only just, but it’s enough to make him shudder, “please.” He’s always been excellent at following orders and there is no reason to stop now. Whatever she needs, he thinks, whatever she asks, he’ll give. It’s a scary thought, but it’s the only one he’s had for it feels like his whole life. Her hands snake across the skin of his chest, pulling at his armor with frantic hands. “Let me see you. Let me touch you.”

He relents, and soon they are but a tangled mess of limbs. It’s nothing like he’s known, but he’s ruined forever now. He’s hers, like he has been since that serendipitous moment beneath the ruins of Kenabres, and to his unbelievable shock and surprise, she is his.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #wrath of the righteous #lann #lmao holy fuck this got away from me #its p good tho #we love a good angsty pine #thank u anon #sorry this took me a few days!#skitterfics #Edit: Some of Lann's dialog is taken straight from the game #i don't wanna try and pass that off as my own obv

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kellyvela · 2 years ago

Note

D*NY stans think battle of bells will be between cersei & joncon. I've seen ppl theorising that KL will be ashes when Dny arrives in Westeros because cersei will blow it up with wildfire ("as KL is her city" 🤭). Dny stans substitute cersei in every theory that is negative for dny (they call cersei as Aerys 2.0 🤭)

*GRRM over the years talking about aunty, her pets and burning cities to the ground*:

A Dance With Dragons spends quite a lot of time in Essos, which is kind of the analog to Asia and the Middle East in the world the story takes place in, as opposed to Westeros, which seems to owe a lot to Western Europe. When I was reading about Dany, who has become a light-skinned, foreign ruler of an exotic land, it reminded me of The Man Who Would Be King, the Sean Connery and Michael Caine movie that is based on a Rudyard Kipling story. Do you think about these parallels — colonialism, the “white man’s burden” — when you’re writing? I’ve said many times I don’t like thinly disguised allegory, but certain scenes do resonate over time. Other people have made the argument, which is more more contemporary, that it might have resonances with our current misadventures in Afghanistan and Iraq. I’m aware of the parallels, but I’m not trying to slap a coat of paint on the Iraq War and call it fantasy. When civilizations clash in your books, instead of Guns, Germs, and Steel, maybe it’s more like Dragons, Magic, and Steel (and also Germs). There is magic in my universe, but it’s pretty low magic compared to other fantasies. Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world. But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I’m trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn’t mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn’t give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.

—GRRM - Vulture - 2011

—“Interview exclusive de George R R Martin, l'auteur de Game Of Thrones” de -Le Mouv’- 2014 - [Transcription]

—Lire Magazine - April 2015

He was asked to comment about the differences between the book and show characters, particularly Daenerys. GRRM ignored all the other characters and talked only about Daenerys - he said that the show one is older because there are laws in USA that prevent minors from having sex scenes so the decision was made to age Daenerys. Otherwise, book Daenerys and show Daenerys “are very similar” and “Emilia Clarke did a fantastic job”. (I guess he can’t really say negative things about the show, can he?)

—GRRM Q&A - St. Petersburg, August 2017

The Guardian: And the dragons?

GRRM: “Oh sure, dragons are cool too,” he chuckles. “But maybe not on our doorstep”.

—The Guardian - November 2018

Esquire: How will Fire & Blood deepen our understanding of Daenerys and her dragons?

—Esquire - November 2018

Sitting down with news.com.au in New York City, Martin dropped dark hints to the suffering awaiting the war-torn world of Westeros as the battle for the Iron Throne reaches its peak.

‘THE POWER TO DESTROY’

—GRRM - Fox News Channel - November 2018

John Howe: Can I ask you why Dany is a princess and not a prince?

—Dragons! (2/4) Dragons d'Occident, la figure du mal [2018] - Video - Translation (last quote).

WELT: Again: We know what will happen to the Mother of Dragons. How do you want to surpass that in a novel – with an alternative literary version?

GRRM: Counter question: How many children did Scarlett O'Hara have? In Margaret Mitchell’s novel “Gone with the Wind” she had three children. But in the cinema version of the novels she only had one child. Which version is the only one valid - the one with one or the other with three children? The answer is: neither. Because Scarlett O'Hara never existed, she is a fictional character, not a real person, who would have had real children. Or take “The Little Mermaid”. We know her from the fairytale of the same name by Hans Christian Andersen and from the Disney movie. Which one is the true mermaid? Well, mermaids do not exist. So you can chose the version that you personally like the best. Changes are inevitable in this process. Even if the adaption is as faithful to the literary source material as it was the case with “Game of Thrones”.

—GEORGE R. R. MARTIN (“Die Leute kennen ein Ende – nicht das Ende” - WELT 2020) - Translation.

[…] The role of Daenerys is a difficult role, particularly in the pilot, because Daenerys begins as a frightened little girl. She’s thoroughly dominated by her brother, who humiliates her and sexually assaults her. He’s selling her to this fierce guy and she’s frightened but during the course of that comes into her own power. She suddenly grows from a girl to a woman and starts to realize that she does have power and authority. There’s a transformation that’s incredible the entire course of the show. You have to find an actress who can do both parts, who can be very convincing as the scared little girl in the beginning, but also very convincing as the “I’m gonna kick your ass and burn your city to cinders” woman that she becomes by the end. It’s challenging and it was a hard part to cast.

—GRRM - Tinderbox: HBO’s Ruthless Pursuit of New Frontiers by James Andrew Miller (NOVEMBER 23, 2021). Full quote here.

—Before the Dance: An Illustrated History with George R.R. Martin | House of the Dragon (HBO) - August - 2022

*aunty stans*: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read more here:

Chronicle of a Death Foretold

Queen of Ashes

#anon asks #grrm #aunty #dragons

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seokjinsonlyone · 4 years ago

Text

Not My Type | 3

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: "She's a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful."

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: none; jimin here tho being flirty and stirring the pot <3333

rating: pg

wc: 1.7k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Jungkook’s newfound hobby was driving her crazy. One too many times had their little lunch rendezvous made its way into her mind in the past week. The way he sniffed her hair oddly enough was a recurring playback. She had a thing for weirdos and Jungkook could definitely be classified as that. And, that was exactly why she needed to shut this whole thing down.

Now, she considered herself a progressive individual. She didn’t mind change as long as it was for the better. She didn’t have a problem evolving her relationship with a friend. In fact, she preferred it. Always said that if she was gonna get into it, she wanted to be with a friend. But, this particular friendship wasn’t the one. It wouldn’t make sense. There was no way it could possibly be better.

They were like oil and water. They didn’t mix. Which was fine as a friendship, they could peacefully coexist. Anything more than that, however, would be an unnecessary burden. And, her life didn’t need to be anymore difficult than it already was. She wanted an easy love. It was this line of reasoning that carried her straight to her best friend’s house.

“You need to talk to your friend,” she announced, waltzing into Jimin’s home, throwing her purse on the couch before finding him sitting at the island eating cereal.

He looked up. “I’ve already told you should just ask Taemin out. He’ll most likely say yes. He thinks you’re hot. Stop trying to get me to create scenarios.”

“And, I’ve already told you I refuse to pursue a man. No matter how dreamy and evil he is,” she sighed.

In all honesty, she probably would’ve gone for it if it weren’t for the fact that she could tell he wasn’t really into her. Not in the way she would’ve liked for him to be into her. He flirted with her in person (and in her dms), held her in a way that made her stomach jump after a few drinks, but ultimately his goal was a few nights in the sheets. And, that just wasn’t her thing. She didn’t do casual. Didn’t like to invite people into her life that weren’t going to stay. So even though she thought they could be good together, she was deciding to let this one go. If he couldn’t see what was right in front of him that was on him.

“You’re gonna end up alone.”

“You must realize that I am my favorite person.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Jungkook.”

“What he do?”

“He’s been acting weird ever since last week.”

“What happened last week?”

She sucked her teeth. “You know, when we were all here?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, pupils shifting from side to side, visibly racking his brain trying to recall what happened at his place last week. “Oh! Wednesday! I was so drunk, bro. What happened?”

“Ugh. You don’t remember asking me to rank all of y’all from most to least my type?” Typical Jimin. Cause trouble then dip.

“What’d you rank me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I ain’t doing this again.”

He dropped his legs from the footrest of the barstool, tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Mmm. You couldn’t handle me either way.”

She’s not gonna lie, her heart skipped a beat. But, that’s the only reason he did it in the first place. He knew it flustered her on some level. So, she decided to play along for once, bringing her hand up to toy with the hair that rested at the back of his neck. “Baby boy, I could make you cry,” she whispered seductively.

He made a face, then pushed her away turning his attention back to his cereal. “You’re gross.”

“You started it,” she accused, laughter bubbling up at his reaction. He was CEO of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Always in the mood to dish it out, but hardly able to take it in return.

“So, what’s going on? Why do I need to talk to him?”

“Because I told him he wasn’t my type, and now he’s trying to convince me that he is.”

He choked. “What?”

“He literally showed up at my work the other day and brought me lunch.”

“That was more so directed at you saying Jungkook isn’t your type.”

“He’s not.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking conspiratorially. “He isn’t,” she insisted.

“So, you didn’t used to drool over him when you two first met?”

“See why you gotta go and bring up the past.” She wouldn’t say that she had a full blown crush on him, she didn’t know him and therefore couldn’t actually like him, but for a minute she was down bad. She wasn’t expecting to meet him when she did. Jimin had wanted to hang out and asked for a ride. He was with Jungkook when she picked him up and she was effectively caught off guard. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was out of the car and shaking hands with him in greeting. The next few weeks were spent trying her hardest to be in his presence. She never said more than two words to the boy, but yeah she was down bad. Once her hormones subsided, though, they eventually developed a friendship. A friendship that needed to stay a friendship. “Besides, I never said he wasn’t hot. I’m saying our personalities don’t match up. It wouldn’t work.”

“You aren’t that different from each other.”

“Yeah, but we’re wrong in just the right ways. It wouldn’t work.” He was right in saying that weren’t all that dissimilar, but it was because of that that she was sure starting any kind of relationship with romantic intent would go up in flames. The two were like parallel lines. Never meant to cross. Adjacent, but never intersecting. As they should.

“It sounds to me like you’re just afraid of what could happen.”

“Hold on there partner. I didn’t come here to be lectured or psychoanalyzed. I don’t even think he likes me for real, but he’s heading down a slippery slope. I just want you to talk to him before he goes and starts something that’s gonna get his feelings hurt, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” One thing about Jimin was that he was nosy. Had absolutely zero qualms about getting all up in other people’s business. Knowledge equals power is what he always told himself. So, if she hadn’t come to him voluntarily offering up this information, he would’ve picked up on it sooner or later, inserting himself in the middle of it all. As it stands, he’s been giving explicit permission to do some digging. All he has to do is wait for the opportunity to arise.

The opportunity came a few days later. Jungkook was sitting on his couch, phone in hand, completely zoned out when Jimin pounced.

“So... Y/N?”

Jungkook startled at the mention of her name. It wasn’t like he was just thinking about her. He definitely wasn’t about to text her. He hadn’t spent the past minutes in a daze typing, deleting, and retyping messages to send. Nope. “Huh?”

“Y/N? What’s going on with you and her?” Jimin asked again.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” he feigned innocence, voice raising an octave. Even though, for all intents and purposes, there really wasn’t anything going on.

He looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what she said.”

“What did she say?” She talked about him?

“You tell me.” He smirked sitting down, crossing one leg over the other like some kind of therapist.

“I don’t know. We had lunch,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because I thought she might be hungry.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she said you’re not her type?”

He blew raspberries into the air. He couldn’t lie to Jimin even if he tried. The man always managed to see right through him. A consequence of nearly ten years of friendship. “I’m just trying to get to know her better,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because she’s nice.” Which wasn’t the complete truth, but if he admitted that he thought she had stars in her eyes he’d never hear the end of it.

“She’s a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she’s one of the best people I know, but she’s stubborn and once she has an idea in her head it’s very hard for her to let go.”

“So you think I should stop?”

“I think you shouldn’t go into this blind, is all I’m saying. Whatever you’re doing, probably won’t be easy. And, I don’t want you to get hurt. Or hurt her. What do you plan on doing if you manage to make her like you? If you’re not serious then I think you should stop.” Jimin patted his shoulder, then got up leaving him to his thoughts.

Jungkook heard what he was saying. He did. And, he was right. He hadn’t been thinking too hard about what he was doing. Honestly, he was just following the skip in his heartbeat and so far that led him to her. There was a very real possibility of him getting his feelings hurt. She was very strong willed. Couldn’t budge her mind with a bulldozer. So, if she was dead set on being against this, there wasn’t much he could do anyway.

Still, this wasn’t something he could let go of easily. He had no intentions of hurting her. It wasn’t just some conquest for him. That much he was sure of. He would hate to get closer to her, have her catch feelings for him, then dip because he wasn’t feeling it. But, he seriously doubted that would happen. It’s not like they were complete strangers. He was just seeing her in a new light now. And as much as he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, at this point he didn’t know if this was something he should even avoid. It didn’t seem like it.

Truthfully, he didn’t feel this way often. This pull he now felt toward her. He was usually much too caught up in trying to be the best version of himself he could be to entertain thoughts of others. However, right now she had his attention and he didn’t want to look away. He opened his text thread with her typing and finally sending a message before he could overthink it.

[10:53pm] jk: lunch tomorrow?

#bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years ago

Text

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 5

Summary: As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman) Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Chapter Warnings: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, murder planning

Word Count: 2490

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

Roman was not used to feeling small.

He was used to standing out, being loud, and carrying his shoulders with a confidence worthy of the title he held and the company he was expected to keep. Wherever he went, he knew he could always hold his head high.

Staring at his reflection now, he had to fight the urge to duck his head. His face was, quite simply, a mess. The cut from Lord Howard’s ring was small enough that Roman didn’t feel the need to bandage it, but the wound was slightly swollen, and his cheek was a truly shocking shade of purple.

Swallowing, Roman picked up a small compact that had been left on his vanity. He wasn’t in the habit of applying makeup, but when the supplies for doing so had appeared in his room overnight, the message he was being sent was quite clear. He wasn’t even sure whether he was sickened or relieved by the act, at this point. In some ways, it felt like another mark of ownership; the earl wanted him as perfect and pristine as ever, no matter what happened. But on the other hand, Roman wasn’t sure if he could stand to walk about the estate with the mark on full display like a brand.

Roman winced as he gingerly applied the powder to his face. It didn’t completely erase the injury’s appearance, but if he added some blush to the other cheek and styled his hair so it hung lower than usual, obscuring the bruise from the side...it was almost enough.

It would have to do for now.

Taking a deep breath, Roman exited his room and quickly made his way through the halls. He’d told Patton that he didn’t feel well this morning (which was not entirely untrue), and so he wasn’t expecting anyone to wonder where he was. After a few turns, he found himself standing before a door that he had never actually gone through before: the door to Logan’s office.

The office’s large door glistened with fresh wood polish and gave a pleasant, welcoming smell, though the scent actually only succeeded in making Roman’s nerves worse. He knew Logan would be on the other side, working on managing this set of numbers or that pile of letters even this early in the morning. Lightly touching the bruise across his cheek he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It had to be Logan- no one else. He trusted Patton with everything he had, but there was no telling how the loyal attendant would react. He knew Patton cared about him, but as kind and caring as he was, he was hardly a good actor. And Virgil was far from a snitch, but he was so wary of any sign of trouble that Roman didn’t want to burden him with this...at least not yet.

He had to be sure...he had to know he had even half a chance before letting the others in, and to have that chance, he needed Logan.

If Roman listened closely, he could hear him on the other side of the door, muttering softly to himself as he ran through whatever calculations he was scratching out with his favorite pen. Paper rustled every now and then and Roman could tell by the coolness of the hardwood floor just in front of the door that the window must be open. He stood a moment more, letting his mind’s eye follow the thought, picturing Logan’s long hair blowing softly across his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk, glasses sitting just so on the bridge of his nose that Roman could probably reach forward and straighten them if he was quick enough.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a breath and knocked quickly, then without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open before he could lose his nerve.

Logan glanced up from his work, frowning slightly as Roman entered. His eyes widened when he saw Roman, and he stood so quickly that his chair screeched across the floor. Wincing at the sound, he smiled apologetically and gestured for Roman to take the seat in front of him.

“Roman, to what do I owe the pleasure this late in the evening?”

“I-” Roman’s throat ran dry, and his thoughts along with it. Logan was looking at him, worry etched across his brow and work forgotten, and Roman swallowed. “I need your help.”

“Certainly,” Logan said immediately. “How can I assist you?”

Sitting across from Logan now, Roman almost changed his mind. It seemed absurd to think that Logan would agree to what he had in mind...what if he had misjudged him? What if he had misinterpreted the withering looks Logan shot the earl when he thought no one was looking, what if he had placed too much faith in their budding friendship, and if Roman so much as breathed a word of his plan, Logan would be the first to warn Lord Howard?

“Roman? Are you alright?”

Logan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Roman looked up. Logan was sitting patiently, nothing but concern and quiet understanding marking his features, and Roman suddenly didn’t know why he should be worried at all. He could trust this man- he was sure of it.

“I need your help taking control away from Lord Howard.”

Logan binked once, then twice, fiddling with a pen that lay in front of his hands before setting it down firmly and leaning forward. No sound came from his mouth when he opened it at first, snapping it shut to blink a third time, slow and deliberate while he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

“I- I need your help, please Logan.” Roman leaned forward as the other man straightened back up, his attention fully caught. “The earl has his fingers in far too many pies...and I’m not even sure he remembers what all the flavors are. If last week's meeting was anything to go by he disregards anything that doesn’t directly benefit him and only him and I’m sure land isn’t the only thing he’s notoriously stubborn with. Look at the way he treats his staff, expecting them up day and night to serve him and his entertainment of the day, extending that to you and all the responsibilities he shoves to the side in his confidence that you’ll pick up the slack. I haven’t even been here for very long but I know you hardly sleep for all the work you do in his stead. He expects everyone around him to be the perfect picture of their roles to mask the fact that he cannot play his own and I cannot continue this betrothal and eventual marriage in a state of constant anxiety and silence. He isn’t...he isn’t a good man Logan.”

Pursing his lips, Logan held up a hand. “Roman, I still don’t know that I understand what you want me-”

“He isn’t a good man, Logan,” Roman interrupted. “You must see that.”

“Yes, but Roman, he- I don’t know what you’re asking of me. He has more power than he knows what to do with, true, and he certainly abuses it, but I’m not certain what you expect me to be able to do about taking it away. I manage his finances and remind him of meetings; I hardly have the reach to do anything substantial.”

“For people like him, money is his power, and you’re the one that takes care of that. How many times does he actually ask you about anything official? Does he ever want full accounts of where anything goes? You sign documents for him of all things because he believes himself too important and you’re going to sit there and say you have no weight to throw?”

“But I-”

Seeing the doubt, Roman was quick to lean forward. “What if we could control the estate? Actually control it, and make smart decisions for it and know what’s going in and out of it? Surely you of all people would jump at the opportunity to make the changes you know need to be made here.”

“Roman.” Logan fixed him with a stern look, and Roman snapped his mouth shut. “It’s a nice thought in theory. I’ve spent many nights worrying over things that truly should not be my responsibility, and have done enough research to present to the earl a myriad of solutions to his problems, should he ever decide he actually wants to listen to my counsel. But for us to be in control of the estate, the earl would have to be deceased.”

Roman stared at him blankly.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Roman that is not-”

Taking a deep breath, Roman brought up a hand to wipe at his face, the flesh colored powder smearing his sleeve to reveal the dark purple and red underneath. This time it was Logan that snapped his mouth shut, with an audible click. Horror, anger and worry flashed across his face, and Roman winced.

“It’s going to get worse. I know it and so do you. This is how it starts, especially once he has someone who officially belongs to him, and especially when that someone doesn’t just lie down and take it. I won’t. And so it will keep getting worse, and he will never be accountable until one of us finally has an accident. I am not going to let that one of us be me.”

Logan regarded him sadly, sighing as he lowered his gaze. “What you’re suggesting is extremely risky. Even if we could do something after you marry him, the fact of the matter is that this is the Howard family’s estate. And I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that the earl isn’t exactly...interested in making you an official member of the family in any capacity. If he were to pass away, the estate wouldn’t be bequeathed to you. You’d still have no control, and might honestly end up with less if his other family members decide not to tolerate your presence.”

“That’s where you come in.” Roman smirked, and Logan’s head snapped up. “I need your help to forge the will.”

--- --- ---

“Well that’s-”

“Excuse me, what?”

Roman fidgeted with his sleeve as Logan attempted to sooth Patton and Virgil long enough to allow them to explain. After getting Logan to agree to help him, Roman had immediately requested that they bring Patton and Virgil into the scheme. Roman was certain he could trust them, and Logan seemed to agree. They certainly wouldn’t be able to pull their plan off with only two of them. Getting Patton and Virgil to see the necessity in it, though...well that was the first hurdle they were trying to clear.

“It seems like a drastic measure to take, even with the lord’s uh...mood as of late.” Patton squirmed on the haystack he was curled up on, pointedly ignoring the baffled expression Virgil threw him.

“A drastic measure? You think? This is treason, Patton! We’ll be hanged!” Virgil turned to glare at the two men across from him. “We will be hanged. There has to be a better way.’

“We will have the will forged and officiated before the wedding, and then arrange it to look like his death was natural. As long as we can figure out a way to do that it’s a fairly simple process.” Logan held his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Even if we can’t find a way to make it look natural, I assure you Lord Howard has enough enemies grabbing at his various businesses and properties that it’d be anyone’s guess who tried killing him off. Half of them would end up paying investigators off just to avoid any public suspicion, it is almost guaranteed that no one would expect Roman to be the culprit.”

Virgil stared at him. “You’ve thought this through. Logan, why have you thought this through?”

Patton reached over and grabbed Virgil’s hand, rubbing soothing motions against his knuckles while humming softly. Virgil’s shoulders remained tense but he leaned against the attendant's shoulder, taking a shuddering breath as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I think...” Patton said slowly. “I think that maybe while we have this opportunity we should take it. Not that I take any pride in using you Roman!” He was quick to assure. “But- I’ve seen the way he gets...and how he is getting. People like that only worsen with age, and I’d rather not see any of us hurt...more.”

Roman touched his cheek self-consciously, trying to subtly cover up the spot where he had wiped the make-up off, but of course fooling no one. Patton glanced away but Virgil’s gaze only hardened, squeezing the other man’s hand and swearing under his breath.

“I guess....I guess all of us here- everyone at the estate really- would benefit from him not being in charge. It’s still incredibly risky.” Here Virgil glared daggers at Logan and Roman specifically. “But I think with the right people...the right poison maybe, it could work.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” Logan asked curiously.

“Not me, but I know people that might. What are we thinking the time table will be for this?”

Roman perked up as they all looked at him. “Well...it might be a good idea to carry it out a good while after the wedding. If it happens immediately after, it would look a lot more suspicious than if we waited.”

Logan frowned. “But Roman-”

“Logan, you know I’m right.” Roman startled a bit at the sheer amount of concern he saw in Logan’s eyes, but gave him a small smile as reassurance. “I’ll be fine until then.”

“Well,” Both of their heads snapped around to face Virgil again, neither acknowledging the slight pink in their cheeks. “If we’re waiting that long that’s plenty of time for me to get in contact with my guys and figure something out. Really it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Patton made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Um, exactly what kind of guys, Virgil?”

Virgil laughed outright. “Oh, total degenerates for sure! But they’re also both idiots, and that didn’t change when they set up their apothecary, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So it’s set then? We’re doing this?” Roman couldn’t help the hopeful edge to his tone, and he immediately felt a stab of guilt.

What would his friends think of him now, so eager to take such a drastic measure? But a quick glance at their faces revealed only sympathy and determination, and he forced himself to breathe. There was a reason he’d come to these three specifically, and now he had to trust that he’d made the right call.

“Yes.” Logan said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, and Roman felt himself relax. “We are.”

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logince #moxiety #you dont own me #ydom

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.17

Happy Times

03/05/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,336

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, big smut, smutty smut, talk of pregnancy, infertility, trouble with conception

A/N: This is the big one. The one I’ve been waiting to share. To write out and perfect and I hope it hits you all the way it did me to write it. I love this chapter for many reasons. The smut is probably one of my favorites to have written. I don’t know why. I hope y’all enjoy it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Something settles between you and Thor after your sobbing conversation.

Thor has always been sweet with you after your marriage but he seems intent. Like he’s playing catch up and watching him is exhausting.

You know it’s your fault. He probably feels like he has to give you reassurance and two days of watching him fluster, you finally reach out to grab his hand before he can get too far away from you.

"Thor wait," you sigh, pulling him back towards the bed.

You’re not dressed yet, wearing only his heather gray t-shirt. It’s stretched a little around the neck because you’d been pulling it a lot last night in your eagerness to have him on you.

"What is it, my cherub?" he worries, sitting back down beside you as you pull yourself up to sit too.

His hands fly towards you, an instinct, as he places his hands on your hips then slides one up along to your waist then your ribs where you flinch a little from the surprise of his touch.

You’re still not used to him touching you in some places. Not his fault. Not really yours either. You don’t mind. It’s just new.

"Nothing, Thor. Everything is fine. And that's the point."

With a sigh you get up, letting go of his hand as you make your way to the cord by the door that calls in one of your staff.

"I was going to go get it for you," Thor explains. “I know you’re hungry.”

"I know, but Thor...what's going on with you?”

Sitting beside him again, you take his hand and lace your fingers through his as he reaches to touch you again.

You pull his hands onto your lap and sit with one leg folded up on the bed while the other hangs off the edge.

The skin of your thigh draws his attention and he takes back his right hand so that he can reach out and stroke it, pushing the shirt up just a smidge.

“What do you mean?” he asks, not understanding your own confusion.

“I mean, watching you fuss over me has been...I’m exhausted just watching you.”

Thor’s hand never stops stroking but there’s a small understanding that smooths his creased forehead.

“Oh,” Thor smiles a little sadly, and it almost rips your heart out.

“Thor,” you fret, suddenly terrified, voice rising in pitch.

You scoot closer to him to close the gap and he lets his hand slide up underneath your shirt to wrap around your side to hold you. You rest your knee on his own, also folded up on the bed so that he could sit facing you.

Meeting your eyes at the sound of grief in your voice, his beautiful blue eye goes wide, “No, cherub. Do not worry for me. I’m more than alright. I know that I have been a bit enthusiastic in my attention to your needs but it was only because I wanted to make it clear.”

“Make what clear?”

He shrugs one shoulder, pouting his lips as he shakes his head and turns his gaze down to your hand still holding tightly to his.

“That you are my one priority,” he looks up, smiling wide but it’s somewhat forced. “Of course you are. My beautiful wife.”

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach and you bite your lip as your mind races to fix this.

“Is this because of what happened the other morning? Because of me?”

You know it is, and even as he shakes his head, you know he’s lying.

“Thor…” you warn him, “Honesty, remember?”

His head freezes mid shake and with a small sigh, he nods.

“I never want to see you cry like that again,” he confesses.

Without missing a beat, you throw yourself forward to wrap your arms around his neck and practically sit in his lap as he responds instantly and embraces you.

He holds you tight, tighter than he normally does which makes your fear double. He buries his face against your neck and breathes in deep as you reach up to stroke his short blonde locks.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper for him. “I was being silly the other morning.”

You weren’t though. Your insecurities had been founded in a real problem. It no longer applied though, the moment he accepted you as his wife, so you shouldn’t hold it against him.

“I believe you, Thor. I know that you love me. And I appreciate everything you’ve done these past two days, but you don’t have to try so hard. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to.”

“Your worries were not unfounded,” Thor disagrees, unwilling to let you trivialize your feelings. “I once asked you to do something that affected your image of me. I gave you those doubts. Even if they hold no merit now, they were my words.”

“Fine, I had reason to be upset, but Thor this is too much If you keep going at this pace, you’re going to wear yourself out emotionally. I don’t want you to resent your love for me. I appreciate you wanting to make sure I know how you feel--and I do know--but you trying so hard feels almost as bad as why I was upset in the first place.”

The confusion on his godly face is heartbreaking.

“How-?”

“I don’t want to be a burden on you. I want our marriage to be a partnership. We’ll figure things out together, work through things as a team. You were on a team with the Avengers, right? Didn’t you all do much better together than you could do separately?

“And when any of you did break away, how did things go then? Not good, I’m guessing.”

Thor nods, “Not good.”

“I don’t want us to break away from each other. I’m glad you understand how much the way we started had me worried, but I get it too now. I know you don’t want Jane. And I’ll be better about my insecurities.

“So, can you stop running around like crazy and just be with me?”

Reaching up you place both of your hands on the sides of his neck, wrapping your hands around the back to give him a gentle shake.

He takes his own hands and traces your back from shoulder to hips then back up before he pulls you in against his chest to simply hold you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tuck your head beneath his chin.

“I guess I should probably cancel that chocolatier I hired just for you then?”

You shove your face against the skin of his collarbone and laugh a smothered laugh as he presses his lips against your hair.

“Oh, my god!” you shout, voice still muffled against his pecs.

Thor chuckles, then reaches down to take hold of your chin and tilt your head back until he can lean over you and press his lips to yours.

He kisses you again and again, slow languid pecks that smack quietly, wetly as his lips begin to part. A stirring between your legs makes you shiver and Thor quickly hooks his hands behind your knees to pull you onto his lap where you straddle him easily.

The position places you higher and as your heights are reversed, you grasp the sides of his face. You trace the shape of his top lip with your tongue and he sighs heavily. A huff of mild frustration before he lifts you, flipping you at the same time to press you down onto the mattress.

He kisses the corner of your lips, making a trail down along your jaw to your neck where he licks and suckles driving your sex absolutely wild. It contracts, searching desperately for filling.

“You-drive-me-absolutely-mad-” Thor gasps between wet kisses.

“Oh, Thor…” you whisper, a breathy moan that makes him growl.

He pulls you up for only a second as he takes the shirt off your body then pushes you back onto the bed as his mouth finds your breast to nibble.

He circles your nipples, raising pebbled peaks while his hands trace every curve of your body.

Somewhere in your mind, you’re aware that the bedroom door opens and a timid Estrid’s voice floats in.

“Good morning, Your Majesties. Are you ready for break-? Oh!”

And just as quickly as her voice floated in, it’s gone, the click of the door prompting Thor to stand and pull off his pajama pants.

He strokes himself, drawing your eyes to his large cock but instead of filling you up the way your cunt desperately wants, he pushes your legs apart and up towards you.

One long stroke of his tongue to drive your folds apart pulls a shuddering moan from your parted lips.

“Breakfast indeed,” he mutters, then latches onto your core to suckle on your nub then lap at you hungrily making you quiver.

But you want him inside you. You long to be full with him, pumped with his seed.

He notices your reluctance to his feast, your impatience. It makes him angry? No. It makes him want to change your mind.

He throws himself down flat on his stomach, your legs tossed over his shoulders as his hands make their way to tweak your nipples as his tongue pushes inside of you.

You gasp, arching your back when he pulls back to trace deliciously tortuous circles around your clit.

Like they have a mind of their own, your hands grasp his golden hair, holding him still as he presses more firmly against your nub. You thrust against him, unable to help yourself as you chase your release.

Thor brings his hands back down, hooking them against the fold of your legs and pelvis, shaking his head from side to side as he follows your enthusiastic lead.

The lurid sounds of his mouth devouring you push you over the edge and you buck against him as heat rushes from your core up into the rest of your body to bathe you in ecstasy.

As it spreads, you go numb to anything other than the buzz of your climax.

Thor traces kisses along your thighs, kissing up to your hips, stomach--where you flinch from the unexpected touch--between your breasts and finally your lips.

The taste of you on him is intoxicating. The satisfaction that makes him moan against your lips seduces you again, bringing your legs up against his hips as you spread yourself wide for him.

“I want you inside me,” you breathe, unable to find the volume to do more than gasp at him.

Thor kisses you hard, mouth open wide as he tongues your mouth, exploring the soft heated wetness of your tongue.

With one hand he reaches between your bodies and in one smooth push, he’s got his cock all the way in.

He groans loudly. You moan with him.

“Oh, fuck…”

You’re lost in his body again, the sturdy weight of him pressing you into your bed.

He thrusts into you slowly at first, feeling every twitch of your cunt as you take him.

But with your breathy moans, his excitement grows and his soft thrusts turn into hard pumps.

“Faster, Thor,” you beg.

He throws himself behind you, lifting your leg to wrap it around his waist as he pulls your back against his chest. One hand he uses to massage your breast while the other he uses to hold your leg up to keep you open wide.

You throw your head back, searching for him and he kisses you messily, all tongues and gasping moans.

His cock slides in and out of you smoothly, his pelvis slapping against your ass with a quick rhythm.

“Thor,” you warn, your body pushing towards your second climax.

He buries his face against your neck, lips latching on in a lazy kiss as his focus has shot down to his cock.

Holding your body as still as he possibly can without hurting you, he fucks you quickly, bringing his free hand down to press and flick your clit as he chases his own fix.

He grunts. It’s a growl of exertion.

Your breathing is labored. A pant as you cry out for release.

Thor comes first, biting down on your neck with surprising control while his hips stutter and he shoots his hot seed deep within you.

His hand is relentless as it works you and only a moment later, your toes curl. You lose your breath, a sharp cry of ecstasy piercing the sex haze as your body is overcome.

Thor overworks you, stretching your orgasm for as long as he can while your body twitches within his arms as he waits for you to be more pliable.

As your toes uncurl, Thor’s fingers slowly stop. He traces your side, grasping your breasts to squeeze with lusty admiration as both your bodies come down from their high.

“That’s what I call, a good morning,” Thor says breathlessly.

You chuckle, exhausted and as you shut your eyes, you begin to drift back to sleep.

Thor notices, pushing himself up to press a kiss to your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your cheek.

“Wake up, love,” he urges you. “We have appointments to keep this morning.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to just stay here in bed and do nothing all day but this over and over.

Thor laughs.

“I know, cherub. Should we call in sick?” he asks, half-serious.

“Ugh, no,” you sigh. “I have to go down to the park. And I have a meeting with the ambassadors at one.”

“What do they want?” Thor asks, wary of the Earth ambassadors because of their previous stance on getting Thor married to someone from Earth without an ounce of care as to who, so long as it was quickly.

“They want a report on our baby making progress.”

Thor sighs.

“Will you tell them about this morning? Should we have just made a video?”

You understand his frustration. You’re pretty tired of having your lack of a baby thrown in your face. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep telling them that you and Thor are trying and that when you have news, you’ll let them know.

“You just want a video for yourself,” you tease him, hoping to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work. “I hate that they call you for this. As if their meddling will help anything. I know it stresses you.”

Slowly, you turn to face him, hands pressed against his cheeks.

“I’m okay, puppy,” you promise him. “I’ll make sure to tell them today that they can’t call me for this anymore.”

“Will they listen?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But maybe if I tell them that they’re stressing me out with all of these progress meetings and that it might be hindering any possibility of conception they’ll leave me alone.”

“Is that possible?” Thor worries, propping himself up on his elbow as his hand gently strokes your lower belly.

“It is possible for stress to make having a baby harder. That’s why I thought that maybe we should take a break from trying but…”

Thor’s lips curl up into a smirk, “There is no way I am letting you take this perfection away from me.”

His hand gives your torso a once over before coming back to rest on your lower belly.

With a laugh, you nod.

“I know. I feel the same way. I think we should just stop thinking of it as a way to have a baby and just...do what we just did. Enjoy ourselves.”

“What we just did was more than enjoy ourselves,” Thor disagrees. “That was worship.”

“Then we’ll keep worshiping each other. Over and over and over and over-”

“Mmmm,” Thor wiggles his eyebrows at you and you laugh as he leans down to kiss your lips.

Your stomach suddenly growls.

“Now that I’ve had my breakfast,” Thor says, turning and getting to his feet. “Let’s get some for you.”

As you sit up, he tosses his t-shirt back at you and you slip it over your head quickly.

Thor moves to the door and pulls it open, nonchalantly peeking outside.

“Ah, Estrid, you’re still here. Good. Her Majesty would like some breakfast, please.”

“Right away, Your Majesty,” you hear Estrid say and your cheeks burn with the realization that Estrid literally just stood outside the doors of your bedroom, listening to Thor fuck you senseless.

As Thor shuts the door, he catches your bashful expression and laughs.

“I’m fairly certain that wasn’t the first time she’s heard us, cherub. No need for embarrassment.”

“I was so loud,” you whimper.

“A point of pride for me, I assure you.”

You bite your lip and Thor shakes his head.

“Shall we make some more noises for Estrid to overhear when she comes back with our food?”

Like a switch, you’re smiling, crawling away from Thor as quickly as you can across his massive bed.

You get only inches before his large hand closes around your ankle and he’s yanking you back to him.

“Come, let me have seconds,” he teases and you laugh as he pounces.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time has a way of getting away from you.

Your days become routine in New Asgard. More than they were before Tony, Bruce, and Jane showed up.

The security setup for the palace takes a long time. Bruce stays the entire month, but Tony goes home to Pepper every week for the weekend.

Jane is a constant presence in your daily life. Despite this, she doesn’t talk to you. Not often.

You tried a couple times to build some kind of rapport with her, but she’s resistant and you give up after the first week of her stay.

If she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you, then you won’t force your friendship on her.

She’s not evil. It’s not like she’s mean to you or outright ignoring you. She returns your greeting in the morning and at night your goodbye, but otherwise she makes no attempt to talk to you.

Thor doesn’t see it. Then again, he’s hardly ever with both of you at the same time.

His meetings with Jane take place everyday after lunch. You’re busy with the city park’s construction so you’re left out of their meetups. This doesn’t worry you.

Thor always gives you a breakdown of what Jane reports to him and you trust him. There isn’t an inch in your heart that believes anything funny is going on. Thor gives you no reason to doubt him.

Loki makes regular visits to the observation stations that the Warriors Three and Sif are tasked with watching and he keeps you and Thor informed. As of now though, there’s nothing to inform you of.

“Nothing’s changed,” Loki assures you both as you lounge in the small sitting room just down the hall from the dining room you, Thor, Loki, and your guests always eat in.

“Do you still feel it? The thing we’re keeping an eye out for?” you ask him, putting your book down on the small coffee table in front of you.

“Oh, yes,” Loki nods. “Whatever it is, is still coming.”

“What’s taking it so long?” you wonder, frustrated with all the suspense.

“Lack of power?” Thor wonders aloud, standing at the wide window that looks out to the sea.

He’s got his thinking cap on.

“No,” Loki shakes his head, pulling down on the dark jade silk he’s wearing over a perfectly ironed white button up.

He’s the complete opposite of Thor in dress who’s taken to wearing a pair of dark jeans and various styles of casual tops from t-shirts to long sleeves that he pushes up to his elbows.

“No, I don’t think power is the problem. It feels more like strategic planning. Whatever they’re waiting for, hasn’t happened yet.”

Loki moves towards you, holds out his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

Almost as if on cue, Bruce suddenly pokes his head in through the open doorway, “Hey.”

“Hi, Bruce,” you greet, suddenly realizing what time it is.

“Lunch?” he asks, eager for a meal.

He’s always starving after he’s been cooped up in the basement security room all morning.

“Lunch,” you agree. “Thor?”

“Hm?” Thor turns towards you, your arm already hooked on Loki’s elbow.

“Coming? It’s lunch time,” you inform him.

“Right, of course,” he smiles at you then moves to take you from Loki who gladly releases you to Thor who guides your arm around his own elbow.

Lunch is uneventful. The same as it always is.

The food is delicious and the meal is hearty.

Thor devours his lamb, Loki nibbles.

Thor sits at the head of the table and you sit beside him, where he likes you to be. Loki across from you. Jane and Bruce sit at the opposite end of the table and anyone else who happens to be around takes up the remaining seats.

Seeing as today is Saturday, Tony is not in his usual spot across from Bruce.

As you sit beside Thor, he reaches over to take your hand, shoveling his food into his mouth with one hand while you also try and fail to cut your lamb with one hand.

You sigh and then laugh, finally pulling Thor out of his thoughts.

“What is it?” he looks around to see if anyone has said a joke, but you’re the only one not focused on anyone but him.

“I need my hand,” you explain, and smile.

“Oh, sorry,” Thor says.

He lets you go but his hand dives down underneath the table to take gentle hold of your thigh.

This touch doesn’t surprise you. You’ve gotten used to Thor’s need to touch you. It’s not overt, usually. Not like he has to be draped around you. He just likes to feel you close.

A hand along your back, fingers tickling the small hairs on the back of your head, your hand held gently, or like now, a hand gently squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

You chuckle as you cut your meat, putting a forkful into your mouth. As you chew, Thor stares at you, smiling softly at your amusement.

“Have I been monopolizing you?” he wonders.

“A little,” you admit. “But I like it. I like when you touch me.”

“I like touching you,” he admits.

“Mmm,” you wiggle your eyebrows once and place your elbow on the table to lean towards him as if you’re about to whisper a secret. “What kind of touches?”

Thor clears his throat, swallows hard, and licks his lips as he tries to guess your mood.

“All kinds,” he whispers for you, leaning in closer.

“Even the ones that make me wiggle?”

“Especially the ones that make you wiggle,” Thor replies adamantly.

You chuckle and he smiles wide, leaning the rest of the way to indicate he wants a kiss.

Putting your fork down, you reach over to his ear and pull him towards you. You angle his head a little more so that you can kiss him easily and both of you laugh a little as your lips meet.

He pulls back once, then leans back in to give you a peck. Then another. And another. And another. For half a minute, he simply gives you as many smooches as he can while Loki purposely avoids looking at your display.

“I love you,” Thor whispers to you, making your heart leap in your chest and take off like a racehorse as butterflies fill your tummy.

A scraping chair pulls both your attention to the opposite end of the table.

Jane stands, moving around her seat and then pushing it in.

“Well, as delicious as that was, I’ve gotta get back to the tower. There’s supposed to be some sort of midday aurora or something? I don’t want to miss it.

“Thor? Are we still on for two o’clock?”

“Of course,” Thor nods, smiling at her. “See you at two."

She leaves the dining room, every pair of eyes on her departure but you find that only Loki’s brow is crinkled with curiosity.

After lunch, you and Thor retreat to his office, the last room on your floor.

Well, it’s your office too now. After Thor’s wish that you wouldn’t make any kind of office for yourself too far from where he might see you, he’d bought you a sizable desk and bookshelf and had them installed in his office on the wall opposite his own desk.

It’s still a fairly large room so there’s plenty of space for both of you to move around and do what you need to.

Today, you’ve chosen to take a break and grab a novel from your shelf that you’ve been meaning to read.

After sitting at your desk for a chapter, you get up and move towards Thor’s desk where he’s sitting pouring over paperwork. You reach out, nose still in your book, and turn his swivel chair a little so that you can sit on his lap.

Thor doesn’t even look up from his work as he spreads his legs a little wider to offer you one of his massive thighs, and an outstretched arm ready to wrap around your waist once you’re settled.

He gives you a gentle squeeze once you’re in his arms but otherwise neither of you make a fuss.

You’re allowed only about thirty minutes of peace before a knock on the office doors pull both your gazes up.

“Come in,” Thor says, hand relaxed on the small stack of paperwork he’s been reading through.

The door creaks open and large brown eyes peek through.

“Jane?” Thor worries, looking at the small clock on his desk which tells him that she’s half an hour early and she also never comes to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry to bother you both,” Jane says which already sounds odd seeing as she hardly ever includes you in anything. “But I have something I need to show you, Thor.”

“Of course,” he nods, and you’re already getting up off of his lap. “I’ll come see you later, cherub.”

He leans down and kisses you but guides you to sit in his seat, which you do.

You watch him go, shutting the door behind him as Jane leads him off, stealing a precious half hour from you.

Disappointed, you sigh and shut your book. There’s no way you’ll be able to concentrate now.

Luckily, you’re spared having to find something new to do by a second knock on the door.

“Come in,” you say with another sigh.

“Your Majesty?” Estrid looks towards your desk but when she doesn’t see you at your desk, her eyes search the room.

“What’s the matter, Estrid?”

“Oh,” she smiles when she spots you. “‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty.”

Her reminder hits you like a bolt of lightning and you get up as quickly as you can.

“I keep forgetting!” you complain to yourself but with Estrid hot on your heels you hurry down the hall to your bedroom where inside you find Dr. Wilson and Doctor Alric waiting at the small breakfast table.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Wilson? Dr. Alric?” you stop a few feet from them as the curtsy and bow respectively.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” they greet.

“Another blood test today?” you ask, already rolling up the sleeve of the oversized sweater you’d chosen this morning.

“Actually,” Dr. Alric begins. “There will be no need for a blood test today, Your Majesty.”

“What? But I thought-?”

“You’re pregnant, Your Majesty,” Dr. Wilson says, no prompting or lead up.

She just says it, and you freeze.

With wide eyes you look from doctor to doctor completely confused by what it seems their saying.

Do you dare hope that you heard them correctly?!

“I’m what?”

“You’re with child, m’am,” Dr. Alric assures you. “Dr. Wilson and I were finally able to find a way to test your blood for an Asgardian and human mixed child. Since our genetic makeups are so different, it took a bit of creativity and-”

Dr. Wilson reaches out to place her hand on Dr. Alric’s forearm, “We won’t bore you with the medicine behind it, but we tested as far back as we could with the samples of your blood that we kept just in case we managed to find a way to get a conclusive result and you’re about three months. A little less. You will have conceived just after your marriage. Perhaps on your honeymoon?”

Slowly you start to understand what they’re saying and a smile begins to spread across your face.

Can it be true?

“I’m really pregnant?” you check again, because you’ve wanted it for so long.

“Yes,” Dr. Wilson smiles at you. “It’ll be just a tiny swell right now. You might not even notice the change yet.”

“I’m pregnant!” you gasp, laughing as you press your hands to your cheeks.

Your doctors laugh.

Instinctively, you want to run to Thor and tell him. You want to call David and celebrate with him. You want to shout it from the rooftop of the palace so that Earth’s ambassadors will hear and finally leave you alone!

“There are a few things we’d like to go over with you. A diet and some medications to ensure the health and safety of both you and the baby,” Dr. Wilson explains.

“Dr. Wilson will cover the human side of the heir, and I shall employ a brief idea as to what I think might assist in maintaining the child’s Asgardian side.”

This reality check is just what you need and you move to take a seat with them, eager to learn and even more so to get to Thor and tell him that you’ve both been worrying for months when he’d already gotten the job done a long time ago.

You end up taking notes on everything that Dr. Wilson and Dr. Alric tell you. It’s a lot of information, instruction, and advice that you will never remember if you don’t put it down somewhere.

Time passes quickly and slowly at the same time but once they’re done with you, you see them off and then race back to the office to see if Thor’s meeting with Jane has finished.

Although it’s been nearly an hour and a half since he left you, he’s not returned to the office so you call for Estrid but take a peek out towards the tower instead.

You don’t see them out there and are almost set to go look for him up there yourself when Estrid comes.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, everything is wonderful Estrid. Do you know where Thor is?” you ask eagerly.

“I believe His Majesty is in his war room with Prince Loki, m’am.”

“Thank you, Estrid!” you zoom past her, unable to contain your excitement.

It feels like you’re literally flying down the halls as you make your way to your husband.

Your body is absolutely vibrating with glee. You’re weightless. Ecstatic. You’re so relieved that you’re not a failure. That you were able to give Thor and his people what they want more than anything else in the world. A future!

A beacon of hope. An assurance that the people of New Asgard will always have a place here on Earth. An heir.

As you reach the war room door, you see that it’s cracked open, Thor and Loki’s familiar voices spilling out from within.

You reach out for the handle.

“What did she say, Thor?!” Loki is demanding.

There’s something off about his tone.

Somewhere deep in your heart, fear strikes a cord. Panic. The weightless feeling your news has given you turns into numbness as your body recognizes danger before you do.

“She said she’s with child,” Thor spits, angry, frustrated, absolutely out of his mind with grief? “Jane said that she’s pregnant with my child.”

What?!

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