#This was also the time where I made those beta kid headcanons that are on my profile somewhere (and on that one I mispelt Asian as Asain :() | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marshmallowsqoosh · 2 years

Text

[Ghost (Band) | Ritual of Summoning: Era 3 (1/5)]

Fandom: Ghost (Band) Title (also AO3 link): Ritual of Summoning: Era 3 Rating: General (May go up) CW: No major warnings apply Lesser Warnings: headcanon, not beta read, Terzo’s the youngest because the canon timeline makes no sense, author chooses to believe that Nihil didn’t hate his kids and they have given names, Ghouls are summoned via magical means, summonings involve deals with devils, author is taking a lot of liberties, Ghouls are Generational not Inherited,

Summary: Summoning era three’s Ghouls over the years... aka Terzo constantly getting in trouble for being a small, ambitious dumbass and continuing to be a small, ambitious dumbass.

A/N: The other ambitious thing to go with Pro Memoria. teeeeeentatively five chapters? Maybe more, we’ll see how many shenanigans these dumbasses want to get up to.

Still don’t have a beta reader so if you spot typos/odd spots, lemme know ♥ (I did edits in AO3, not docs, so I may have missed a few spots skreee)

Extras: Status (and AO3 link!): [ 1 / 5 ] Word Count: ~10.800

[i. ritual]

Terzo nearly trips over his nightgown in his haste and it's only the awareness that he needs to be quiet that keeps him from making any noise when he stumbles.

He manages to stay standing and stays still for a few minutes, just to make sure none of the night Ghouls wander down into the dungeon. A slow, shaky exhale escapes and he's more mindful of his steps as he moves around the… admittedly crude summoning circle. As careful as he tried to be, it's… hard to paint large circles by himself. The straight lines had been easy enough; he just needed to count his steps. He wonders if Primo knows that's why he wanted to see the summoning chamber… and maybe feels a little bad for abusing his older brother's trust.

Primo had been accommodating, despite the worried smile, when Terzo asked to read his old ritual notes. It's never been a secret that Terzo was excited by the prospect of being Papa; Secondo supported it—likely due to his own desire not to ascend in the near future, or at all, if he could avoid it. Primo's done well to uphold the role, even as his health took the beating from his own summoning rituals. His Ghouls are all… stable, despite Primo insisting that he doesn't think they were summoned correctly. He can never explain why it feels wrong… just that he knows it is. Earth's the only one he seems certain of. The only one able to communicate with humans in any capacity. The rest of the band trills and chirps and growls to communicate to each other and Earth. They can replicate… some human words; but it's mechanical, at best.

Terzo remembers trying to teach them his name—constantly being chirped at in what he can only assume is the Ghoulish equivalent of his name—until Secondo had finally picked him up and carried him off, dangling from his hip, while scolding him for being a nuisance. He would have his own Ghouls in due time, he needed to stop harassing Primo's. The only thing they needed to be focused on was the Rituals.

Earth and… the fifth one he still hasn't learned how to say… Earth calls him Quinn. Those two can speak. Earth a bit more eloquently, which really isn't saying much; but, Quinn can speak well enough to communicate when he needs something or to ask people if they're alright—usually Primo. He doesn't seem to like Terzo much. Or… anyone that isn't Primo. Terzo remembers him being the one warning against letting Terzo study the old summoning notes, even when Primo assured him things would be alright.

Maybe he was just worried about the journals being stolen… so, Terzo made a point to only read them in Primo's presence, making his own notes in a separate book, and always making sure to return the journals to Primo's desk before he ran off. Down into the old library beneath the Ministry, where the Archivist Ghoul and their helpers were, largely, kept out of sight.

There's a few… more modern Ghouls—Ghouls summoned from Papa's time and a handful Primo sanctioned, like the one that keeps running messages between Primo and the Archivist that… Primo may have told him to stop distracting from work. Terzo still makes sure to leave him chocolate bars and snacks from the kitchens, whenever he visits, maybe in hopes he can get the Ghoul to help him translate any of the older lot.

The older Ghouls—most formless or barely holding together a humanoid shape; more animalistic masks and far too many limbs—don't speak any language Terzo's ever heard, not even really Ghoulish… but, he thinks it's probably more likely they speak a really old version of Ghoulish, since no one seems to know where they came from or how they survive without summoners or masks. Secondo and even Papa always told him that the Archive Ghouls didn't like humans bothering them… but, Terzo's never had a problem with them. One of them—The Archivist, the large, decrepit Ghoul that was more or less fused to a crumbling stone desk, arms too long and gangling, fingers little more than bone—always knew exactly which book he needed, just based on the notes Terzo gave him and tried to explain.

He's still not positive the Ghoul understood anything he said, but they seemed able to read, at the very least, and always sent the more mobile Ghouls—always the ancient ones, robes barely clinging to their bodie and mostly hiding their forms—to various parts of the library to bring back specific books. Books covered in dust and cobweb, but well cared for by the Ghouls in the archives.

The text was largely illegible, but the large Ghoul always made a point to show him what he can only assume are summoning circles from their time. Summoning circles that… don't quite match up to the Ministry's. Sigils he recognises, but no one really seems to know what they mean, in different parts of the circle. The ingredients, at least, use the shorthand symbols and he's grateful… and confused.

He remembers the confused murmur that spread through the archives when he asked why none of the Rituals he's seen had blood listed as an ingredient. He knows there's a symbol for it. Primo's Rituals had involved blood, so had Papa's, so had those before them and most of the current summoners. When he tried to show the transcribed notes for what Primo had done, the large Ghoul had simply run a very pointed, sharp finger tip, coated in ink, through the blood to cross it out and gently returned the paper.

He wants to tell Primo. Maybe they can reverse whatever the Rituals have done to him if they figure out how summoning should be.

No blood. Everything else had been correct, ingredient-wise, so far as he can tell. The only things wrong were… the blood and the misplaced sigils. For now, he follows what he was given—as best he can with the limited space of the dungeon—and hums to himself as he sets up the last few candles. A few of the words slip out as he's humming, just so he's certain he knows the summoning incantation. When he glances down at his hand, there's a tiny cut on his thumb… he doesn't see any blood and kind of remembers a short burst of pain when he set the sulphur down… and then again when he lit the last candle. It doesn't even look blistered, so he ignores it and carefully makes his way back to the front of the circle, looking over his work one more time before he takes a deep breath and starts the incantation.

He doesn't mean to sing. Or, maybe he does. It makes it easier to remember the words, at least; makes it more fun and easier to ignore the light throbbing starting to build around his left eye.

Easier until, as the last words leave his lips, the candles go out and he instinctively crouches down, covering his head when he hears a rumble spread through the dungeon, far too much like thunder rolling in for a storm. It doesn't occur to him, for probably a solid fifteen or so seconds, that it should be impossible for him to hear thunder in the dungeon and he cautiously lowers his hands to look around. Some of the candles are still list—the ones at the five points, but not the cluster offering fire. It doesn't help him see much. Everything looks darker and, it's only as he's sweeping another glance around the room, that he finally realises it's… like a thick fog. Fog that's gathering, thicker and thicker, in the center of the summoning circle until a large figure is looming there. A thick fog that's large enough Terzo has to tilt his head up just to find a pair of golden eyes following him.

Aren't you a most curious child.

The voice echoes off the walls around him and makes him jump. Tension shoots through his body as he waits for a sign someone's coming down to check on the noise and realises he's in a lot of trouble if it's one of the ranking clergy members. He'd be in trouble if it were a Ghoul, too, but… the sudden realisation it could be his brother or Sister Imperator is… maybe making him reconsider if this is a good idea.

Fret not, little one. I've ensured no one can interrupt us. Now… why have you summoned me?

Later, Terzo might realise he should question the entity a lot more. That he should probably question why he feels the lull of safety around him, even as he's seated on the cold floor of the dungeon, just shy of midnight—or perhaps midnight passed while he was singing, he's not positive. The eyes… almost look Ghoul-like. He's never seen a Ghoul this big though… and that would be unfortunate if it were his friend.

"I… are… you my friend?" The large head tips towards him in a curious gesture and Terzo realises he didn't answer the question. "I want a friend… like Primo's and the ones in the big library—archives. Primo called them archives."

The laugh that leaves the shadow is a booming echo that nearly makes Terzo fall over, even though he's sitting. He manages to stay sitting up, more confused than he was a moment ago. He doesn't even have the mind to be afraid when a large hand—easily bigger than him, bigger than either of his brothers; the smallest digit may roughly be the same size as his brothers—comes down and the tip of a claw taps the corner of his left eye. The dull pain amplifies for a short burst; but, he manages not to squeeze his eye shut, instead continuing to stare up at the shadow curiously.

I am your friend, yes. Not the one you called for, though. I will bring him to you… but I must be certain you understand, little star. Terzo blinks. His family called him that. He's never heard anyone else say it, but it holds his attention. A ghoul is a very powerful weapon in the wrong hands. We grant them to you as companions and protectors… but even as they protect you, they will need your protection, for you are correct. They are not tools. They are companions—friends—first and foremost. You have called forth a very… special… friend. One of many to come, if your ambitions are to be realised. Do you understand?

It's an odd question. One Terzo… perhaps doesn't fully understand. But it seems straight forward enough and more of a reminder. Primo looks after his Ghouls. Secondo may not have liked any of the Ghouls that wandered the halls, but he didn't go out of his way to harass them, either. If anything, he helped them by carrying Terzo off, grumbling as he hoisted the eleven year old onto his hip about being too old to need reminding to let the Ghouls work. That was… some kind of protection. If Terzo has his own friend to look after, he won't need to bother Primo's or any of the staff.

So, he just nods, enthusiastically. "I'll take the best care of him!"

The laugh is a bit more curious this time. Still a rumbling echo in the enclosed room; but, almost… wistful. Ancient. A sound lost as the fog begins to let up.

Magnificent. I have the grandest of expectations for the both of you and those to come.

He wants to ask about those to come—he knows he'll need a full band, eventually, but it sounds like the shadow already knows who they are. Could he have them now—?

Almost immediately, Terzo's focus is past the fog and on the figure that sits up from the center of the summoning circle that's… being devoured by the ground, leaving no evidence of the ritual behind. He only stares at it for a few seconds—finally realises why the giant summoning circle was designed into the floor, why it needed to be painted over before every ritual—before he finally turns his undivided attention to the Ghoul sitting in what was the middle of the circle, ears and tail flickering about curiously as he looks around.

He's more… solid than Terzo was expecting. Less void than he's seen around the Ministry. Maybe because his ingredients were more accurate? He's also smaller—probably as big as Terzo is—but that seems… correct. He remembers Primo having notes about Ghouls "maturing", like humans but faster.

He doesn't question it long. The second the Ghoul finally looks at him—shockingly human-like, green eyes blinking at him, curious and a little dazed—Terzo completely forgets everything else and happily closes the short distance to throw his arms around the Ghoul's neck, hugging tight for a brief moment before he lets go so he can hurry off to the desk he's been storing supplies in over the past couple of weeks. Ingredients and chalk and paint and, most importantly, clothes. He still needs to figure out how to get a mask… but he can worry about that later.

For now, he hurries back over, careful not to trip over himself and holds an extra nightgown out to the Ghoul.

"You must be the special friend! Oh, you're perfect! My name's Valentino—oh—wait, no, I'm supposed to use the Ministry's name… oh! Terzo! I'm Terzo! Do you have a name? Oh—we're going to be best friends, I'm going to take the best care of you, I promise!"

He's perhaps somewhat aware of the fact the Ghoul is… different. His eyes don't match other Ghouls; but, to be fair… Terzo's never seen a Ghoul unmasked. Maybe they did just look more human without the masks. The void is less… shadowy. More ashen, more solid, with splotches that almost look flesh coloured. He still just blinks at Terzo for a moment longer, attention transfixed on Terzo's mouth before he finally tries to speak.

"Spe… cial? Special? … Special." He tries speaking a few more times, simply repeating his name to himself as he looks over the gown he's handed, looking between the gown and the one Terzo's wearing before he finally seems to figure out how to put it on.

Like Terzo's, the sleeves fall past his hands and he frowns down at them for a moment. The green eyes start to shift to gold and orange—more like the Ghouls Terzo sees around the Ministry; more like Fire Ghoul's, specifically, if not a little more gold in the left eye—before Terzo reaches over, gently rolling the sleeves back, the same way Secondo does for him. When he looks again, Special's eyes are green, and human-like, again and he… has to assume he's simply tired and imagining the eyes changed.

"Special? Oh, I guess he was introducing you, then. That was polite of him!" It's only then Terzo really stops to consider that… he has no idea who—or what, really—the giant shadow was. But, the excitement and adrenaline is leaving him and he simply holds Special's hand, tight in his own, and helps lead him towards the stairs. "C'mon. It's really late. … Huh. Do Ghouls sleep?"

"Sleep… rest?" He's still testing his voice and range of vocabulary. It's giving Terzo tiny bursts of energy where he desperately wants to stay up. But, he still puts a finger to his mouth as they get closer to the top of the stairs, hoping Special understands to be quiet, until they're safely back in his room. He doesn't normally lock his door… but, he doesn't want to startle the Ghoul if his brothers wake him up in the morning. Special watches him closely, unblinking and tiny trills emitting from his throat as Terzo moves around his room, pulling extra pillows from his closet to set on his bed before he climbs onto the mattress, patting the large open space next to him.

"I guess it's probably a good thing they haven't gone down from a full yet… it's too big for just me. So you can sleep up here, too!" He barely fights down the excited squeal building in his throat when Special complies to sitting next to him; it doesn't stop him from hugging the Ghoul tight around the neck again. "Even if you don't sleep, rest is good for you! Frate Primo's Ghouls always need rest after they perform… I think they sleep when he does."

Of course… now he's starting to realise he's going to be in a lot of trouble for summoning a Ghoul. Specifically without supervision, never mind leaving him unmasked. But the need for sleep—the excitement gradually starting to aid the exhaustion instead of feeding him more adrenaline—is finally taking over and he yawns, falling down into his pillows without worrying about his blankets. Special pushes up against him, snuggling into his hold once more.

"You're nice and warm… m'so glad you're the friend I got."

He more feels than hears the approving purr. A soft vibration that comes from the Ghoul's chest as he nudges his head up under Terzo's chin and latches on. He's not sure the Ghoul sleeps; but, Terzo gets probably the best night of sleep he's had in months.

[ii. mask]

Terzo's not really sure how he gets away with hiding Special as long as he does.

Copia asks, a few times, if he's alright and Terzo just blinks up at the priest, not really sure how to answer past confusion, every single time.

"Uh… yes? Why wouldn't I be…? I'm going to my room, I'll be back for dinner!"

He hears Secondo telling the man to leave him to his own devices. Normally, he might be a bit more upset—he barely got to spend any time with his brothers and he feels a little bad, because Copia tries to make up for it by spending time with him… it's gotten harder since he officially started his priesthood. Secondo's begun his tertiary schooling around the Ministry. Still no inclination to ascend; but Terzo's seen him working with the human security and staff on… he's not really sure what. His brothers usually did their best to keep him from finding out too much.

When he gets up to his room, he's not too surprised to find it empty and just sweeps a quick look around—and up and down the hall outside his room—before he finally closes and locks his door. He's not surprised, anymore, when he gets knocked to the floor by Special dropping from the ceiling and just laughs, hugging the Ghoul as tight as he can.

"Welcome home?" Special's getting better at talking. He still trips over a few words, but he's picking up on them quickly. Almost faster than Earth did, so far as Terzo can tell. He just hugs tighter.

"Mm-hmm! Thank you. I hope you weren't too bored?"

"Not bored. Practiced. See?" Special hasn't quite mastered walking on two legs yet. Not that Terzo makes too much of an effort to correct him prowling around, but he is kind of starting to realise he should probably be more focused on that. Maybe.

He dusts his uniform down as he stands and follows Special over to the desk, watching around his shoulder as he flips through one of the spare notebooks and finally lays it open, flat, on the desk. Despite wringing his hands and the way his ears slant back a little, his tail is still flickering about, quite proudly. Still a little shaky but a lot better than when he first tried to copy Terzo's handwriting.

"You're getting better at this so quickly… is that a Ghoul ability or is that you?" Terzo finally climbs into his chair so he can start his homework… but, his attention still stays on Special, much more interested in the answer than anything he should be doing.

Special just blinks at him and hums a little. "Uhm... not sure? Might be Ghoul. Probably Ghoul? Ask?"

"I wouldn't know who to ask… you and Earth are the only two that can talk—well. Quinn can. Kind of. I think? Primo doesn't let me talk to him too much. He says it's stressful." Terzo sighs and starts digging his books from his bag. "I guess I get it… his rituals were really rough… according to Frate."

"Frate… Frate? … Francesco." Terzo laughs a little and reaches over to pat Special on the head—is extra pleased it earns a delighted purr and the Ghoul pushing up against his hand insistently.

"That's right, but you're not supposed to use the name mama gave him. We have to call him Secondo around the church."

"Just us, though?" Special looks confused and Terzo looks down at his desk, thinking on it a bit more. Or trying to. It's been a few weeks and, as every day passes, he realises how much he didn't actually think through before he summoned Special. The idea of Sister Imperator finding out about Special, now, is almost solely responsible for Terzo not going to anyone for help with a mask, yet, even when he knows he needs to. Or… he thinks he does. Special's actually been holding up… really well without a mask so far, even though everyone made it sound like their contracts were largely reliant on the masks.

"Just us… … I'm sorry I summoned you alone. I know Ghouls need a friend so they aren't lonely—" A squeak of protest escapes when the Ghoul suddenly hugs him, tight, and stubbornly pushes his face against Terzo's shoulder. "Special—?"

"Not sorry. Not sorry. Not lonely. Have friend. Have Vale. Don't want anyone else."

He's not sure where Special learned the nickname. He doesn't think he's ever said it… and Secondo was generally the only one that shortened his name like that. Primo never used their given names—not that Terzo's ever heard, anyways. He doesn't dwell on it too long, instead hugging back as tight as he can when he's already trapped in a hug himself.

"We'll always be together. I know I can't spend all of my time with you—but when I'm not at school, it'll always be us. Always and forever. Promise."

"Even when there's others?" Special doesn't sound scared or sad. Curious. He's heard Terzo talk about the band and what would eventually happen. That there would be other Ghouls. As interested as he was, he never sounded particularly desperate for the companionship of more Ghouls or jealous, thankfully.

Terzo nods. "Even when the others exist. You'll always be my best friend."

Special makes a small, keening trill in his throat and finally releases Terzo from the hug so he can settle by the desk, head resting against Terzo's leg and breath leveling out to a steady, sleepy rhythm, so Terzo can finish his homework. The sooner he does, the sooner they can play.

Except, as he's finishing up, Special suddenly sits up, his ears alert and attention fixed on the door. He's under the bed before Terzo actually realises what he's doing and jumps when his door handle rattles. He hears the annoyed sigh on the other side and flinches, quickly sliding down from his chair and running to open his door. He does his best not to shrink under the reprimanding stare and offers an apologetic, albeit nervous, smile, "S-sorry, Sister. I forgot I locked it—"

"That's the fourth time this week, Terzo. I won't remind you again that your door is not to be locked, especially if you're going to be deaf to the Ghouls trying to get your attention by knocking."

That… doesn't sound right. Special would have reacted to the knocking. But, he knows he can't just tell her that to prove she's lying, especially when it was only Wednesday and she rarely gave him more than two warnings before involving his father. So he just scuffs his toes against his carpet and nods a little.

"Yes, ma'am…"

"Good. Now, come along or you'll miss supper again."

He waits until the woman walks away to scowl and finally closes his door again so he can change into something that isn't his uniform. He sees Special's tail—just the tip—peeking out from under the bed and smiles a little as he's pulling on a light sweater and pants. He needs to get back into the habit of changing as soon as he gets home… it's getting colder outside and someone is going to notice—if they haven't already—that he isn't changing into warmer clothes immediately, like he normally would in the fall. Not cold enough he needs to bundle up… but cold enough his uniform usually isn't all that warm in the mornings or early in the evenings when people come to gather him for supper.

It's really hard to remember he's cold when Special runs so warm.

Instead of dwelling on the thought for too long, though, Terzo kneels down by his bed, giving the tail tip a gentle poke and giggling when it immediately retracts under the bed and, a moment later, Special pokes his head out with a quiet chirp. "I have to go to supper, so you behave, okay? I'll try to bring you something up… if not, I can get it after everyone goes to bed, okay?"

"Apple?"

Terzo smiles and leans to give his Ghoul a gentle kiss on each horn. He finds it… maybe curious the horns are so small. Small enough to be hidden in his hair, when Terzo kind of always assumed that Ghoul horns were… bigger.

"I'll try. Be back soon!"

He knows he needs to hurry, otherwise Imperator will withhold supper.

Thankfully, he gets down to the table before the woman or his father shows up and even manages to hug Primo, his Ghouls, and Secondo before he hears the pair coming into the room and hastily climbs into his chair, legs swinging idly under the table to make it look like he's been there for a while. He's a little surprised Copia shuffles in behind them, attention fixed to… taking notes, perhaps? Terzo watches him—quietly pleased when Copia sits next to him—and tries to read over his arm until Secondo reaches over to pull on his ear—promptly earning a short, pained yelp, despite Nihil warning both of them to mind themselves—with a strict, side long look. Terzo just rubs his ear, grumbling out an apology to appease his father, because Copia really doesn't look bothered and simply sets the open book close enough that Terzo can read it, as conversation passes around the table between the older lot and more or less completely over Terzo's head.

Not for the first time, he realises that none of Primo's Ghouls stay seated. Most of them move away from the table when Nihil and Imperator enter the room, standing with their arms folded behind them, backs to the wall closest to his oldest brother, attention fixed firmly ahead. Earth stands a little bit closer—still not at the table, but close enough he can lean down to relay translations of the quiet trills that leave his band mates.

Terzo pushes at his food, aimlessly, when he's eaten half of it, attention wandering to watching the Ghouls and trying to figure out how he's going to get Special fitted for a mask without getting himself or Special in trouble.

"Are you full, Terzo?"

He looks up, suddenly aware of everyone's attention on him, and only just stops himself from sinking under the table. "Oh. Uhm… yeah, kinda. … Could I just take it up to my room? I won't spill anything, I promise!"

Nihil looks like he might be considering conceding—or commenting on the fact Terzo's barely touched anything, despite clearing half the plate—but, true to form, Imperator gets the first word in.

"It's bad enough you've taken to locking your door. We'll not be indulging this string of rule breaking you've taken to."

As much as Terzo wants to protest—he starts to, fully intending to just point out that he isn't hungry yet and he'll definitely end up eating it before bed, even if he does just give it to Special—it just starts a new argument and he quickly ducks his head, fingers twisted in the hem of his sweater, tightly, to keep from covering his ears and just waits for it to pass. Secondo's at least taking some consideration to the fact they're seated together and not yelling; but, it doesn't stop him from immediately sassing the woman. Or stop her from getting Papa involved. Prompting Secondo to pull Primo into the "conversation" in an attempt to diffuse it before words get worse.

Terzo jumps when he feels a gentle tap against his arm and Copia spares him a nervous smile. "Go on upstairs. I'm on clean up tonight, I'll set something aside or make you something, okay?"

Terzo nods, quickly, and mouths a quiet thank you before he slides down and escapes from the steadily escalating volume—how he knows his brothers even noticed him leaving the table—and back up to his room before the anxiety gets any worse. He sighs when he's safely in the stillness of his bedroom, leaning back on the closed door and sliding down to the floor so he can hug his knees. He doesn't jump when Special sits next to him and instead just leans into his side, head resting on the Ghoul's shoulder, "Sorry. Sister wouldn't let me bring my plate upstairs."

Special just trills, quietly, and nuzzles gently at Terzo's shoulder, tail winding around his ankle in what he's learning to be an offer of comfort. "Not hungry… Vale ate enough?"

"Yeah… they always fill my plate way too much. Copia said I could go down for something later. Hopefully he lets me bring something back up." He finally raises his head, looking back up towards his door handle. "… I can't keep locking the door. You can hear people coming really good, right?" Special nods, his ears twitching and wiggling to accentuate his confirmation. "… I should probably tell my brothers, at least… maybe if we get you masked, they won't be as mad. I don't want you to get hungry during the day… and you need room to run around."

The Ghoul just stares at him, head tilting to accentuate the blank look in confusion. "Not hungry. No run. Only play and watch."

"Yeah, but if you can run around, we can play in other places. Bigger places. Like outside! The cemetery is really nice."

"Ceme… tery...?" He tries the word a few times until he can say it and promptly prowls over to the desk—Terzo's again reminded they need to work on him walking upright—and climbs up, pointing out the window, towards the crypt, just barely visible at the edge of the property, with the dying lawn lights and lanterns. "Cemetery?"

"Mm-hmm. The building is a crypt, but that whole part of the grounds is the cemetery. Frate Primo says all the past Papas are kept in the crypt, when they pass on to the next life; and then other members are buried in the surrounding plots. … I think. There might be a few are actually kept in the Ministry… there's urns on the ground floor, after all, I just kinda always assumed they were important people." He finally stands and moves to sitting at his desk, staring down blankly at the last few math problems he probably should have—and could have—finished before supper. He doesn't want to, now.

Now he's just stupidly focused on keeping his father or Imperator from taking Special away when they inevitably find out he exists.

"… Maybe… maybe Copia will know what to do." He hears Special give a curious chirp and just smiles, reaching over to skritch around his ear, fondly, before gently ushering his Ghoul off the desk. "You have to promise to be nice to him. Okay?"

"Be nice." He knows the words are simply being parroted back to him; but, he still hopes things go well and hopefully Copia will have an idea of how to broach the subject with at least Primo or the smiths… maybe he'll work up to telling Papa and Imperator after Special has a chance to acclimate to the mask and socialise a bit more with people that aren't Terzo.

He still waits a few hours—just for good measure—before he chances leaving his room. Special wriggles off to hide under his bed, twice, when his brothers come to check on him. Secondo ruffles his hair, muttering a quiet apology before he kisses his forehead and says good night. Primo checks on him not long after and, for a moment, Terzo wonders if he knows about Special, as his attention keeps drifting, curiously, towards Terzo's bed. He doesn't say anything about a Ghoul, just reminds him that he can ask the kitchen staff for smaller portions if he's not going to eat much during meals. Earth helps him back to his own room; but, even he casts a curious look towards the bed.

That probably would have been a good time to ask what to do… instead, Terzo's wandering down to the kitchens around nine—mostly to get a bottle of water for each of them… and try to figure out how to cut an apple with a knife, without getting caught, so he doesn't get in more trouble if Sister Imperator or his father comes down to the kitchen again.

He's so focused on that he completely forgets why he even waited so long… until a voice behind him actually makes him jump and, in the process, drop both of the water bottles he was holding.

"Terzo, what o—oh! Sorry—sorry, I thought you knew I was here!"

He flusters, just a little, as he turns, hands fisted tightly inside his sweater sleeves, even as he lets out a slow, breath of relief. "Oh… it's just you—I mean—just you and not my brothers, not—I… I wasn't trying to be rude…"

Copia waves him off, confused as he picks up the water bottles and hands them back. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming down for more food. What would you like?"

He... maybe forgot Copia even offered to make him a second meal. "Oh, I'm not… too terribly hungry… but if you're down here you can cut apples for me! … I'm not allowed to use the knives. … Or the apple cutter."

He gets why but it's still annoying when he just wants a snack and has to find a Ghoul or clergy member to help him so he doesn't get in trouble for being… maybe a little clumsy.

"... I suppose that makes sense. Pick an apple—why on earth do you need two?" The man's brow furrows. "Terzo, if you're that hungry, I can make you something more filling."

"Only one's for me." He probably should have thought about how to bridge this a bit more thoroughly. "… If I show you something, will you promise not to tell my brothers or Papa? Or Sister Imperator?"

Copia just blinks at him, sighing as he moves to grab the apple slicer and the two apples from Terzo. "Just admit you want two apples."

"But… I don't. I mean, I do, but I'm only going to eat one." At least he cuts both of them. He holds the plate out of Terzo's reach before he can grab it.

"Is this for Chalk? The Archivist? Didn't Papa Emeritus tell you to stop bothering them?"

"I don't bother them!" He doesn't think he does, anyways. He still flusters, his cheeks heating up a little in embarrassment for his own outburst. "I… I don't bother them. And it's not for them. … He's in my room."

"... Very well. I will carry the plate, just show me who you're trying to give this to."

Terzo wants to protest one of the apples is supposed to be his… but, he also remembers Special hasn't eaten since breakfast, so… he'd probably benefit from two apples. He keeps one hand fisted, tightly, in Copia's cassock as he pulls him along. There isn't any further conversation until they get up to Terzo's room—Terzo looking up and down the hallway for good measure, before he pushes Copia in and closes his door. He starts to lock it, only to pause and sigh.

If he does, Sister Imperator is almost definitely going to show up… she's probably going to show up just because he convinced Copia to break the rules.

A shrill swear breaks his thoughts and he quickly turns around, putting a finger to his lips and shushing the priest insistently.

"Shhh! You're gonna get both of us in trouble!" He sighs and goes to stand next to Special, passing him one of the water bottles before he hugs his arm, tightly. "This is Special! Special, this is Priest Copia… I told you to be nice to him, remember?"

Special blinks a few times, looking between both humans before he trills and parrots the words again. "Be nice. … Has apple."

When Copia doesn't immediately hand the plate over, Special just stares at him, unblinking for a short stretch before deciding he doesn't want to wait. He takes the plate himself, his tail swishing happily behind him as he totters off to the desk.

"Don't eat the plate!" One of the kitchen staff is going to start noticing the missing dishes if he keeps this up; but, Terzo just turns a nervous smile up at Copia, who simply… watches after the Ghoul. "You're… you're not going to tell anyone, right? Not yet, at least! I just… I want to get him a mask before I tell Papa… cuz… cuz then maybe they won't take him away…? … I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Trou—how long has he been here!?" Copia's struggling to keep his voice down and Terzo feels an unsteady twist in his gut and something cold in his chest. Foreign. He winces and rubs, gingerly at the spot, breathing a little bit heavier; even when Copia's attention immediately turns to that, Terzo's struggling to figure out where the awful feeling came from.

"Are you alright—?"

It takes Terzo a moment to figure out what happens—Copia pulls his hand away, sharply, and quickly backs up, as Special more or less materialises between them, crouched down with his fangs bared. Terzo moves before he even thinks about what he's doing, the second he realises Special is growling at the priest. There's a brief moment of pain, but he just holds Special tighter and squeezes his eyes shut against the pain. The awful feeling in his chest is getting worse and his arm hurts, but he still hugs as tight as he can.His arm hurts so bad—

"It's okay… it's okay, he's not mean, Special… you have to be nice to him." Special's writhing and whimpering in distressed high pitches. It almost sounds like he's saying help in his attempts to get away. When Terzo finally manages to open his eyes, he realises his arm is bleeding and he's feeling… dizzy. He stumbles, a little, when he releases Special, struggling to process what happened.

Special has both hands over his mouth—he looks terrified. Copia catches his shoulders before he falls. He thinks he's telling Special to go find Water—or a Water Ghoul. He's not even sure Special knows which Ghouls are which—never mind how to navigate the Ministry. He tries to say as much but the dizziness is getting worse… and worse… and worse until he finally blacks out.

When he wakes back up, he's on his bed. His brothers and father are next to him. His ears feel stuffy… but he hears muffled shrieking and his chest hurts again. Hurts enough to pull a quiet, painful groan out of him as he tries to squirm away from whoever is holding his arm. Papa brushes his hair back, shushing him gently.

"Do not try to move, stellino. Let Water finish treating your arm."

The trill sounds far away, even as he confirms the Ghoul is sitting on his free side, holding his arm and pulling… what looks suspiciously like a thick stream of void from his arm.

"Wh… what ha—" Special. He sits up, ignores that Water makes a short, surprised screech as he's knocked off the bed, and immediately curls over his arm, breathing heavier and gripping his arm as tightly to his body as he can to try subduing the sudden rush of pain. "Special—where's Special, I want Special—"

He refuses to be laid back into pillows until Secondo finally comes over to help, kneeling and muttering close to his ear to let them treat his arm, first.

"Special—I assume your unmasked friend… is fine. You can have him as soon as Water finishes your arm. But you have to lie down and let him treat you, alright?"

His chest still hurts. But he nods a little and lets his brother lower him back into the pillows. Breathing hurts. He whimpers when Water jostles the bed as he sits on it, when he moves his arm again… and the pain simply dissipates as he begins running… very liquid-like hands over his arm and pulling the void again. His arm doesn't hurt anymore. His chest still feels tight, his throat threatening to close, even as he manages a meek apology for knocking the Ghoul off his bed a moment earlier.

His attention wanders around the room, as he waits… until it finally finds Quinn and Earth a few feet away, trying to hold a smaller Ghoul still as they thrash and screech—

Secondo catches him—a heavy hand in the center of his chest—before he can sit up again. Water tenses, tail lashing back and forth nervously and his attention broken as he waits to see if he's going to be pushed again; but Terzo merely grinds his teeth together, unable to sit up against his brother and once again hit like a freight train by the pain in his arm. He lets out a shaky breath when the pain disappears again and he's certain the Ghoul is working again.

"Wh-what are they doing to Special, are they hurting him, why is he being held down—?"

"He's been thrashing since we put the mask on him. How you managed to keep him unmasked for however long… he's not taking well to it." Secondo watches the scene before he sighs and looks back down at Terzo; he promptly, pointedly, looks away so he doesn't have to meet the disappointed look. "What were you thinking? You know Ghouls aren't toys and Rituals are dangerous."

Terzo doesn't answer. Instead he starts squirming on the bed—as best he can with Water still holding his arm and Secondo keeping him lying down.

"There's no need to scold him right now—"

"Leniency is why he even thought to try this!" He doesn't want them to argue—well. He doesn't really care if they do. Papa always seemed alright—proud, even—with Secondo getting snappy. Terzo hates it. His chest feels tighter and he just squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can, quietly hoping Water finishes quickly.

He doesn't understand how Ghoul treatments work, too well… but the fact Water gives a concerned noise a moment later is… maybe a little scary. He hears the Ghoul trilling something, back towards Quinn and Earth.

"He—ow—says the void is thicker—child, will you kindly stop thrashing—!"

He's never heard Earth so annoyed. When he opens his eyes, sure enough, Special's writhing even more than he was before, trying to pull himself free of the older Ghouls. He isn't scrabbling at the mask… he's trying to get purchase to get away.

"I want Special—" He stops fighting, for the short stretch of Terzo talking; he struggles more when the words stop and Terzo tries again. "I want Special."

"Vale, for the last time—"

"No." Primo interrupts this time. Terzo hears him mutter an aside to their father, but can't make anything out past a quiet please. "Earth. Quinn. Will you bring the little one to the bed, please? Terzo, can you tell him to calm down, so they can?"

He's not sure it'll work, but, Special seems to be reacting to his voice at least. "Special?" He goes still again and Quinn takes the chance to pick him up, in those few seconds. "It's okay… Earth and Quinn are really nice, they're just tryna help, so's Water—you promised to be nice, remember, don't give them trouble—" He isn't positive what he says—anything that comes to mind, anything that keeps him talking—but, sure enough, it keeps Special calm, long enough for Quinn to deposit him at the end of the bed without any injury.

For a few seconds, Special stays perched on the tips of his toes and fingers, arched and hunched in on himself, tightly, like an agitated cat, like he's waiting for Water to try restraining him next. But, the moment passes and he slowly crawls forward, careful not to disrupt the other Ghoul and he flattens himself to the bed, once he's close enough to wrap both arms around Terzo as tight as he can.

"Sorry—didn't mean to, wasn't trying to hurt—"

His voice echoes and he sees Water's ears twitch and flicker, his grip on Terzo's arm tightening for a brief moment like he's in pain, before he relaxes again. He doesn't feel the cool stream of water trying to wash the void away anymore; but, his arm doesn't hurt this time. Instead, Terzo just lets out a slow breath and relaxes as best he can with the awkward position his right arm is caught in—stretched out so Water can try to treat him, but trapped under Special's weight so he can cling and Terzo can get his free arm around him.

"I know you didn't. You wouldn't hurt me. But you can't hurt other people, either." He's still not sure what triggered the growling. He's still not sure about the awful feeling in his chest but that's slowly leaving, too. It feels… more like guilt…?

"Scared." Muffled. He almost doesn't hear the word; but, he still hums and hugs his Ghoul tighter, as best he can. "Vale scared. Protect. Supposed to protect, not hurt, didn't mean to hurt—"

He wants to say he's not scared anymore. He wasn't scared before—at least, he doesn't think he was. But, he's still tired. He hopes they wait to let him explain.

[iii. Special]

There's a short burst of tension when Terzo falls asleep before the collective breath of relief fills the room. Secondo rubs at his face, irritably, throwing an angry scowl towards their father.

"This is exactly why I've said he shouldn't have had anything to do with the Rituals or Ghouls when he was younger. He should have been learning the dangers, not being left with them as babysitters!"

If any of the present Ghouls are offended, they don't let onto it. Earth moves over to Primo's shoulder, while Quinn warily stays at Water's, keeping an eye on the pair and offering what little support he can with proximity.

"Ghouls are only so dangerous as their Rituals and… Terzo's clearly figured something out that we didn't." Primo hopes he's speaking loud enough. He exchanges a look with their father, taking in the exaggerated aging the Rituals abused his body with and knowing his body is suffering just as direly. Terzo… doesn't look any worse for wear, save the sleeve of void on his arm that Water hasn't been able to clean off entirely, despite the stretch of time. "… Secondo, if you aren't going to be calm about this, then I will be asking you to leave the room. If you've energy to burn through, I strongly suggest going to tell the Arch-Bishops and Cardinal that Priest Copia had nothing to do with this. Interrogating him is not going to solve anything."

Secondo glowers for a short moment before he finally bites out a curse under his breath and storms out, with only a passing look of worry back towards the bed. Some of the tension in the room finally lets up; Water relaxes and returns his focus to trying to wash the void from Terzo's arm with tiny, frustrated trills. Primo settles, heavily, in the arm chair. He's further from the bed, but it's the only other place to sit without crowding the bed further. He can still see, at least; but, he knows that their father should be closest and is occupying the only other chair—pulled over from Terzo's desk—so he can be close and stroke Terzo's hair back, occasionally touching the back of his hand to the boy's forehead, with a furrowed look.

He doesn't look to be in pain. A bit paler than normal and remarkably warm for his normal body temperature… perhaps the void is infecting him—?

"Help." Everyone's attention turns back to the bed. The little Ghoul—Special? An odd name, but… not terribly surprising, given Terzo's involvement—is trying to squirm free of Terzo's grip. He doesn't sound or look distressed, soon giving up entirely and simply trying to wriggle to where he can see over Terzo's shoulder. The mask looks to be settled, finally, and a pair of bright orange eyes blinks at the rest of them. "Wanted to help priest. … Vale did. … Wasn't trying to bite him. Or the priest. Warning."

Special goes quiet, struggling with the words just as much as he's struggling to get free again. Quinn finally, cautiously, reaches around Water so he can pry gently at Terzo's arm. Just enough to get him to loosen his grip around the Ghoul and Special immediately pulls himself free, shaking off for barely a split second. It's only a split second before Terzo rolls back onto his back, a distressed whine building in his throat as he struggles to wake up again; but, Special quickly settles on his torso, tucking himself into a tight ball, like a cat, and stilling the distress once more.

Another short stretch of silence and he looks up again, watching Nihil warily for a stretch before his attention finally drifts to Primo. "I wasn't trying to bite the priest… he scared Vale. … Thought it was threat… it wasn't…. want to learn— …I want to learn. … I want to help. … Can—wait. No. … May I help?"

"Help…? With wh—you believe you can help Terzo?" Special nods, carefully sitting up. His tail flickers around behind him—small, anxious flickers—as he waits for permission. "Please. If you can assist—Water, will you let the little one help you?"

The answer is an anxious, rumbling noise deep in the Ghoul's chest—not quite a growl, but enough of one that Special starts to recoil a little. In his distraction, though, Water stops focusing on Terzo and the whine this time is one of pain.

Before Primo can warn him to stop being aggressive or Water can turn his focus back to diluting the pain on his own, Special reaches out and puts his hand over Terzo's arm, just above where the thick void stops. His eyes give off a gentle glow and the void slowly moves up Terzo's arm into Special's, leaving a black stain in its wake and exposing the bite marks. He settles back to his curled up position, head resting close to Terzo's so he can nudge and nuzzle him in comfort. With the wound exposed, Water finally manages to make progress in getting the area cleaned and Earth quickly joins him to look at the bites. Despite how deep the bite looks it… doesn't look infected. Water trills up at him, confused; Earth slowly turns his attention to Special, brows furrowed. "You… used your own void to try cleaning it?"

"... Dinnit know what else to do." Special's ears go flat, fear taking over his expression. "Did I make it worse…?"

"N… no, I—? Would you excuse us a moment? Papa, could I speak to both of you, please?" His attention goes to Quinn, briefly. "If you would, I have a first aid kit in my desk. It should be restocked, once Water manages to wash his arm of the stain, please ensure it gets wrapped properly."

Quinn tips his head a little, to show he understands, before he steps back into the shadows and vanishes. Special sits up, ears alert and tail flickering as his attention zeroes in on where the other Ghoul vanished. Water makes a warning rumble at him, again, until he finally settles again. As much as Earth… doesn't want to leave them alone he still helps Nihil and Primo stand and closes the door behind them once all three are in the hallway.

"You seem flustered, Ghoul." Nihil sounds displeased. Probably because he's left his youngest's side; but, Earth just does his best not to recoil under the pointed look.

"My apologies, I didn't want to upset the little one." He still struggles for a moment before deciding a straight forward explanation is probably his best option. "I do not know what Terzo did, but he's summoned something truly extraordinary. Ghouls… our era of Ghoul… we cannot make ourselves so malleable. Water Ghouls can get close, but to actually use his void as a temporary bandage—one thick enough a more or less feral Water Ghoul cannot break it down. And he's a Fire Ghoul? Water shouldn't have had any problem treating Terzo whatsoever."

"That sounds to be more of a flaw of your Ghoul than something Terzo's accomplished." Nihil's expression hasn't changed. Primo's falls for a brief moment and Earth feels a bristle of anger course through him; but, his summoner simply puts a gentle hand on his wrist.

"He did not mean that in malice, Earth. … That said, father. I think he may be onto something. Terzo's behaviour changed weeks ago… more than long enough for any detrimental physical effects to begin manifesting." He doesn't elaborate past a simple gesture between himself and his father. Neither of them should look so withered and weary. Secondo was right to be furious and properly terrified for Terzo's health. "This could be the start of an entirely new generation of summoning Rituals. Safer Rituals. … Copia's summoning trial is soon. Terzo needs to recover, but… Special needs a Ghoul in his own maturity, to socialise and learn and grow. Let Terzo help Copia. If he succeeds we can finally look into fixing… this."

Maybe it can't be reversed. Maybe it's too late for them but they could prepare future generations and try to make the Rituals more publicly accessible so there weren't any further trust issues endangering members of the church.

"I am inclined to agree with Secondo, on this matter. I cannot change that he has summoned the Ghoul; but, I most certainly cannot allow him to keep it."

Primo frowns. He sees Earth's eye give a small twitch and gives his wrist a gentle squeeze. "Father, you saw his reaction from simply being separated from the little Ghoul. He doesn't have anyone in his own age group to be friends with, here or at school. He went to these lengths just to have someone to spend time with. You cannot truly be suggesting banishing him."

After a stretch of silence—long enough that he can hear Quinn telling Special to mind Terzo's arm and to come find them if he's still in pain later; long enough it sounds like they're waiting for Primo to dismiss them—Nihil heaves a slow, heavy breath, as he rubs at his eyes. "I will speak to Terzo when he wakes and the Priest once I've an answer from Terzo. If this trial succeeds… he may keep the Ghoul. If it fails… I will have both of them sent back. By force if necessary."

[iv. Mountain]

Another week passes before the next summoning.

It's a closed ordeal, one Terzo can barely stay awake for. He's still recovering and working through the reprimand from his brothers and father and Sister Imperator; but, he needs to be close by for Special's sake, even if he can't focus as well as he wants to. He wants to see a Ritual done properly with what he's learned… but he's so tired.

Next to him, Special chirps quietly and nudges him, gently, with his own head to offer some form of comfort. Terzo reaches up to give his ear a gentle pet before he turns as much of his attention out to the large summoning chamber. The upper clergy is watching from above—a select handful, but enough to be worried—while Secondo and Terzo are sitting just behind Copia.

For once, Imperator's voice echoing around the chamber isn't enough to jolt Terzo to an awake state; he simply leans heavier on his brother, arm still wound tightly with Special's and their hands locked in a death grip.

"The next step of your priesthood is to prove you understand the rituals of our labours. Normally, we would allow you to choose your first Ghoul… however," The woman's voice is cold; but, it doesn't scare Terzo as much as normal. He does, at least, make an effort to sit up straight again so he doesn't invite more of the woman's ire. "Due to extenuating circumstances brought about by the youngest of the Emeritus line… your Ritual has been predetermined. To pass, you must summon an Earth Ghoul, following the steps provided by the child. We are attempting to replicate his results in a more structured environment and hopefully have a measure against the Ghoul he has summoned. If you understand, you may begin the Ritual when you are ready."

Copia doesn't look nervous, but there's still a small warble to his voice that might make Terzo a little nervous. He knows Earth wasn't supposed to tell him that he might lose Special today… he really hopes he explained well enough.

A moment of warmth washes over him as Copia nears the end of the summoning incantation and he sits up a little straighter. He feels Special go tense, next to him, his ears flickering about in radar mode as he pointedly refuses to take his eyes off the summoning circle. Before Terzo can ask him what's wrong or try to distract him, the warmth disappears like a snap—cold replaces it for the briefest moment… but the moment passes and the next thing Terzo's aware of is… a void sitting in the center of the summoning circle. Clearly dazed and a little confused; but, not hostile and far more interested in their surroundings… and, specifically, the smith that approaches with a mask. Copia takes the mask, kneeling down with the Ghoul and extending the mask as an offering.

"Welcome, little one… do you have a name?"

Green eyes blink up at him and, just like Special, his lips move like he's trying to mimic the speaking but hasn't quite figured out how yet—

Terzo feels his arm tugged a moment before he realises Special's gotten loose and quickly slides down from his seat to run after him, "Special, don't—"

But, he doesn't attack. He shakes his head, sharply, and stops in his tracks, for the briefest moment. But, all it does is get the new Ghoul's attention as the two stare each other down. Special drops down to his prowling crouch, chirping and trilling in short, rapid bursts of curiosity.

"Wait until he's masked, little one." Terzo jumps when Earth's voice sounds above him; but, the Ghoul simply puts a gentle hand on his head. When he looks up, he swears the Ghoul is smiling. "You've done well, Priest Copia. Give him a moment to adjust. The mask will make the process quicker."

"Of course. This will only take a moment." Copia's gentle as he holds the mask out. Terzo's never seen a Ghoul being masked and actually jumps, hastily hiding himself behind Earth when the mask appears to leave Copia's hand on its own, when it's barely centimeters from the Ghoul's face, and a soft green glow emits from the lining, moving down the neck and body like veins and making the eyes glow that much brighter before a small, quiet chirp finally comes from the Ghoul's throat.

Terzo blinks and stares; as much as he wants to look away he swears he saw a design on the Ghoul's throat—

"Mou….ntain. Mountain? … Mountain."

His voice is quiet, but he sounds pleased with himself. His head tilts as he watches Copia stand and, with wobbly legs, slowly tries to mimic, only to nearly fall over. Special catches him, still crouched down in his prowl, against his shoulder and gently pushes the other Ghoul back to his feet. Instead of trying to stand like Copia, Mountain simply settles on the tips of his fingers and toes, mimicking Special instead and watching him closely as the two begin to circle each other curiously. Now that he's… kind of upright, it's a little odd to realise he looks to be a little bit bigger than Special, despite Special having grown over the past few weeks… but, Terzo hopes that just means Mountain is just… generally going to be a bigger Ghoul.

He's also rather genuinely worries they might not like each other—he's never seen a Fire and Earth Ghoul interact, what if they were ill-compatible—

Of course, the second he considers it, Special pounces, easily knocking Mountain over. Before he can go pull Special off—and he sees Copia startle as well—Mountain's hand goes flat to the ground and a few cracks start to form in the floor, causing Special to back off and the two immediately start chasing each other. They don't display any other powers, at least, but it's still concerning watching them tumbling around until Earth gives a small laugh to dispel the tension.

"This is how Ghouls socialise, don't worry. This is perfectly normal and healthy behaviour. I will see them outside, if you like, they'll need more room to run about. With your leave, Papa?"

Terzo looks up, still more or less glued to his brother's Ghoul. He sees the upper clergy muttering amongst themselves, but can't make out tone or word. Primo gives a gentle tap with his staff to signal their dismissal.

"Please do. Priest Copia, we ask you stay for a moment. Secondo, Terzo, please go with Earth. Copia will be along shortly to gather his Ghoul."

Secondo takes the out, immediately, and beelines for the chamber doors with only a passing scowl at the Ghouls. Earth sweeps a courteous bow and turns his attention to the pair still tumbling about. "Hmmm… I hadn't considered how to gather them… Terzo, do you think you can get Special's attention?"

Terzo blinks up at him, then looks back at the pair and, after a short hesitation, tries to speak.

"Special?"

Special immediately stops and his attention goes to Terzo, even as Mountain trips over himself in his efforts to cease chase. Earth takes the opportunity to gather the new Ghoul up in his arms and makes a beckoning gesture for Special and Terzo to follow. Terzo obediently falls into step behind him and Special, in turn, finally rights himself—a bit unsteady—to walking upright and comes up on Terzo's left, hugging the arm that isn't bandaged and purring deeply as he rubs his cheek against Terzo's shoulder. Terzo offers him a weak, rather unsteady smile, already bracing himself for the inevitability that… Special's attentions are going to shift.

"This is good, isn't it? Now you have a friend you can play with—"

"—Play with Vale." Special doesn't miss a beat and just hugs his arm tighter. "New friend won't ever replace Vale. Best friends. Always and forever."

The relief feels silly. He doesn't have a reason to be jealous and he knows Ghouls socialise better together than with humans—at least so far as he's seen… but the absolute confidence is so convincing and he hugs back as best he can without using his right arm.

"Best friends. Always and forever."

Even if he and Mountain do eventually become best friends, Terzo feels better in those few minutes where it's just them.

#sqooshy writes #ghost band #special ghoul #terzo #papa emeritus iii #rating: general #ao3 link #fic: ritual of summoning #fic series: meliora #ghost fanfiction

8 notes · View notes

feelin-kinda-cocky-bmc · 2 years

Text

FKC Mini-Update 2/21/23

Alright, don't have a lot for this update, but hey, I thought I might as well keep posting so people are aware this project is still very much active! I'm currently on Mardi Gras break, and will be utilizing the next two days to work on writing Dustin's Route. There is a bit in Dustin's Day 1 that was originally going to take me a hell of a lot of time, in which I would be writing eight unique chunks of dialogue based on three options the player chooses in a row. However, for the sake of getting a rough draft out ASAP, I have streamlined it to where each topic will flow into each other without much of a missed beat. The eight interactions might appear in a later installment of the game, though.

However, while I'm here, I'd like to announce that the FKC Tumblr now has a new header image, courtesy of our new artist: Rose! I'm extremely happy with the art and I'm so glad we have another great artist on the team. Here's the full image because Tumblr dimensions are wack lol

Anyway, in an absence of content on my end, I'll go ahead and put out what is completed, what is currently being worked on, and what I'm hoping to achieve in the future:

The rough draft of Rich's route is done. However, in an effort to keep up with momentum during the earlier stages of writing when I wasn't on ADHD meds, I ended up skipping a whole part and promptly forgotten that I had skipped it. It's still very much a draft with a lot of repetition that I need to iron out, solely because when you work on something for so long in spaced out intervals, you forget what you did previously.

Once all of the incredibly messy drafts of each route are completed, I will be going back to revise them and hopefully get to a point where I can personally playtest the early stages of the game.

Also, in addition to completed routes, Rich and Jeremy's routes will have secret routes. These won't be as important and as high priority, as they are genuinely just me throwing some OCs into a fangame. But hey, if you like hot, borderline criminal bad boys, or flower-loving, theater kid soft boys, then I've got just the routes for you ;)

With the way I'm writing the routes, I'm also simultaneously coding. Or half-coding, anyway. I'm writing it all in a way that makes it easy for me to simply copy and paste it into ren.py, and then I just edit the Python from there. Double tasking woo!

I also have basic GUI assets that I made,,two years ago,,so I'll need to revise those. But aside from the title screen art, everything looks moderately okay and is completely functional.

At the moment, I'm working on Dustin's route. This is going to be heavily headcanon-based, I'm warning everyone now, but it doesn't stray far from canon. He's just a little unique because there's not a lot of canon information about him

Also, I don't know if I ever clarified this, but each route will be structured in the same format: The default exposition (where you choose your route), around 5 in-game events (or days), the dance day (where your bachelor of choice has invited Michael to the school dance), and if you're lucky, the date day (self explanatory, only available on good endings). In addition, each route with have a bad, neutral, and good ending. This does not include secret endings

After the Dustin Route, I plan to start Jake's, and then Jeremy's (sorry Boyfs shippers!). When all are completed, I'll start revision and the addition of the secret routes.

When the writing stage (which I'm almost entirely sure will be the longest) is mostly complete, we'll be going into the art stages. I have several talented artists already volunteered to help out, and I will likely make a hefty portion of my own. Art will include backgrounds, GUI assets, sprites, and possibly promotional pieces.

And after the art stage, we'll start playtesting a beta version so we can figure out bugs, adjust the stories as needed, and overall gauge the interest of the BMC fandom :)

I would love to create background music for the game at some point, and have the capability to do so, but that genuinely might not get there until later stages of development

Though this is far off, after the game's release, I'd also like to release events. These events would allow for a new storyline to be played regarding Michael and the rest of the BMC crew. These will largely be either self-indulgent or catering towards the fandom as a whole, such as writing all the characters in FKC into an AU. These sort of events would happen for things like Halloween, Christmas, Valentines, etc. Again, far off! But I'd like to make it at least known

Discord | Community Idea Drop

#fkc #fkc sim #feelin kinda cocky #bmc #be more chill #i think we're finally starting to move this project along at a pretty steady pace :)

3 notes · View notes

futurama · 2 years

Note

Ok then what are your headcanons for Dave? Do you think he's friend with/talks to Dirk or nah? Also I love your fat Dave.

THANK YOU FOR ASKING lets fucking do this

first things first hell yeah dave is fat. personally i think if you imagine dave as a fat guy while reading homestuck it makes the experience twenty times better and is guaranteed to make you love him more. bro did wonders starving him as a child but in these present times you will rarely ever see dave without a little snack nearby, the man loves to indulge in whatever he can get his hands on and keep him busy

keep him busy in what ways? <-- thats you asking me to elaborate and i will oblige happily ^_^ one of THE traits of a strider is to have trauma and obviously dave is riddled with it quite disgustingly if you ask me, and while time heals all wounds i do think that dave would prefer to keep busy with one thing or another so not to be left alone too long with his thoughts. growing up under bros watchful shades has left dave very depressed and very paranoid (cameras around the apartment, being ambushed, etc etc) which leads me into the physical part of his trauma

its kind of funny to think of a world where dave ISNT physically disabled from getting his ass beat every day for 13 years. i dont think bro would be one to hold back from breaking a bone or two or seven during those vital years of growth and he definitely wouldnt be willing to take dave to a hospital because...hes bro strider...why the hell would he. the most hed do is try to set straight whatever needed to be set and wrap it tight and send dave on his way which ultimately leads to dave having quite a few painful fucked up limbs - which brings the cane into the picture! wahoo! walking can be very painful for dave and he prefers to use his cane when hes doing it, and if youre ever out with him youd better be prepared to sit down every now and then so the poor guy can catch a break

ok moving on....i do think dirk and dave talk. again very funny to think of a world where they drift apart or dont get along after their initial meeting in the comic because while it started out rough (obviously. duh! why wouldnt it) they were both smart and understanding enough to talk things out friendship style and made it clear that they care for one another on a level they dont consider their other friends to be on. and i dont mean that in a "they value each other over anyone else now" type of friendship i just know that with them its different and dare i say special. i think dave dumped everything bro had done to him on dirk in a fit of emotion but the way dirk handled it was better than any of the beta kids had (they really dropped the ball on that) and for once in his life dave felt listened to. and im not neglecting the conversations he had with rose, but i do think that when he talked to her it felt more like he was being observed under a microscope rather than being heard. i have a lot to say about how dirk and dave feel for one another but ill spare you the reading and say...they are best friends, and they love each other

i like to think that after the events of homestuck that dave, after being miserable in the game and then being cooped up on the meteor, would absolutely go off to live on his own. i dont believe hed isolate himself completely but i do think hed just be....exhausted. i know he loves his friends and he would visit them from time to time, but i know after everything hed end up spending a good chunk of time with dirk

god what else. im such a fan of albino dave, and i think of him as intersex, which coincidentally go hand in hand under chimerism, theoretically. hes bisexual, and has a very healthy amount of autism and adhd. overall i think dave has had some rough patches but grows up to be sweeter than hed like to let on. ill spare you anymore reading and end it there, thanks for asking again! ^_^

#homestuck #dave strider #hermitcyclop

118 notes · View notes

trashytoastboi · 2 years

Note

Hello! For your 1000 follower event, may I please request headcanons on Beta! S/O and Beta! Ace, Law, and Drake with prompt #2 "You'll make a wonderful parent"?

Heyya! Sure thing 🍀 Sorry for taking so long to get around to and hope you enjoy~

(Gender Neutral)

1000 Follower Event!

Headcanons: Beta! Ace, Law, X-Drake x Beta! S/O - #2. “You'll make a wonderful parent”

Portgas D. Ace

🔥 {Name} and Ace were spending some time together, when they spotted a small child crying. They excused themselves from Ace and told him they’d be back. Ace was a little confused at why {Name} had just suddenly taken off and watched as they went over to a child who looked a little hapless. {Name} so naturally knelt down and spoke with a smile that put the little boy at ease. Ace walked over to see what exactly was happening, finally discovering that the child had been separated from his parents. Over the duration of looking for his parents, he clung onto {Name's} hand and only seemed to listen to them. Until he finally was able to reunite with his parents.

🔥Ace chuckled to himself when waving goodbye and turned his attention to {Name}. “You’ll make a wonderful parent.” Ace stated, seeing {Name's} reaction to be quite flustered almost as if to ask where that came from.

🔥“Just seeing you with that little boy and the way you just put him to ease and how happy you seemed. Made me think if you ever have a child of your own you’d make a really good parent” Ace explained, thinking to how the little boy refused to hold his hand because he only wanted {Name} and how natural it seemed to see {Name} with a child.

🔥 {Name} gave the words Ace said quite a bit of thought. “I think it’s the same for you… I also think that you would make a great parent…” {Name} did not say those words lightly. They knew Ace had an insecurity towards the idea of him being a parent.

🔥Ace was now the surprised one of the two. He chuckled and dismissed the notion, “I’m being serious Ace… maybe you don’t see it but I really think you’d be a great dad.” {Name} stated their point and began listing off a list of reasons they believed Ace would be a good parent.

🔥 “I’m sure it would be just fine if it’s our kid…” Ace blurted out without realizing his words until after they had already been said. {Name} and Ace fell silent, both feeling flustered at where the conversation had turned. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t considered it but saying it aloud was something else entirely.

Trafalgar Law

🍄 Law always felt a little out sorts when around kids. It may have been due to the grumpy look he carried on his face or his height that intimidated small children but after the almost perfect record of kids crying when they see him, he became awkward around them. However this was not the case for {Name}, kids naturally took a liking to them. Most of the time if they ran away from Law they would run straight to {Name}.

🍄 Another child cried and ran away upon seeing Law, accidentally tripping when {Name} helped the child to her feet and made sure she wasn’t injured. The child recovered from the fall quickly and skipped along with a smile. Law still had that same amazement as with every previous occurrence when he had seen it. “You know, you’d make a good parent {Name-ya}”

🍄 “How'd you reckon that?” {Name} inquired, looking at Law who visibly toiled over his thoughts. “Seeing that every child we come across always seems to love you, even though you’re a complete stranger.” Law murmured not sure if he articulated his reason properly. “Hm maybe because out of the whole crew I don’t look as intimidating as the rest of you?” {Name} stated. “You also become very parental whenever there’s a kid around" Law elaborated

🍄 Law wasn’t wrong, they really did always take a bit of a parental and protective role to any kids they encountered. {Name} thought back, they weren’t alone in this. In his own way Law would try to help those kids without letting them know. {Name} smiled at the thought and repeated his words back to him.

🍄 Law stuttered when he heard them say that. “I don’t see how you came to that conclusion" Law cleared his throat but {Name} raised an eyebrow “You act as if you have no idea what I’m talking about. But you forget I’ve been with you whenever you stealthily return some kids lost toy, or protect them from a danger they aren’t even aware of."

🍄 Law didn’t think they were aware “I still don’t think that means I’ll be a good parent-" Law grumbled, {Name} laughed “I think a child that takes after you would be absolutely adorable”, Law turned away to conceal his face “I think our child would probably take after you more" Law stated, his words were honest and unexpected and implied the fact that it was something he had considered.

X-Drake

🦖 Drake often thought about children, sometimes in an idealistic way, sometimes in a “never going to happen" kind of way. Whenever he saw his mate interacting with any child sometimes the thoughts of having a child with them would arise. He would never say anything to them but it was one of those “What if" thoughts. Drake had seen a child crying and how {Name} comforted them without hesitation, and how the child seemed to settle and calm with {Name's} presence.

🦖When {Name} returned Drake was a little lost in thought at everything he had seen. It seemed like the most natural thing to see {Name} with a child. “What are you thinking about?” {Name} asked, noticing Drake lost in thought. “Just thinking….You would made a good parent. You are pretty good with kids”

🦖 {Name} smiled a little with hearing him say that, it was something nice and Drake seemed to have another meaning under the surface of the initial thought he shared. {Name} wanted to prod a little further to see what else Drake was hiding, “Is that the only reason?” {Name} asked, Drake fumbled over his words and simply repeated what he said previously but his reaction was rather curious.

🦖“I think you’d be a really nice dad” {Name} stated, the train of thought had led them to that conclusion. Drake seemed giddy to hear that but also his shy reaction seemed to give away the thoughts he didn’t tell {Name}. They knew Drake all too well, and thought it was cute that he was thinking of something like that, even if he wouldn’t tell them.

🦖 “Did you see me with the kids and think it would be nice to have one of our own?” they hit the exact answer, Drake chuckled nervously and couldn’t help but be honest and agree with them. Drake had no choice now that it was ousted.

🦖 “I’m glad to see I wasn’t the only one.” They muttered in a sigh of relief, Drake instantly understood what {Name} had meant with what they said.

197 notes · View notes

collisiondiscourse · 3 years

Text

BKDK - Highschool Romantics Headcanons

LOVE ME some good old fashioned highschool romance shenanigans so as per my brand, lets make it bkdk!! bc tbh i havent made a hc list in a while

its second year highschool! things have calmed down significantly and for class 1-A this means that its time to celebrate their teenage years like they werent able to before

this means more movie nights--more days they get to spend having fun and being regular kids like they shouldve always been

meanwhile bkdk? after confessions and apologies made on bloody battlefields and quiet hospitals at the dead of night... its almost comical how cheesy they are

deku sneaks up on kacchan during lunchbreaks, dragging him to the training fields where he serenades him with a guitar and laughs as a small crowd of their schoolmates whoop in glee

he sings songs of youthful love and friendship, awkward voice smoothing into something beautiful and charming

in return, katsuki learns new songs. he learns to draw and to play the drums even better--living for that shocked little smile when he draws doodles of deku and dedicates especially sappy songs to him during their monthly school jamming session

they arent together at this point, technically. no one knows what they are. no one can begin to label what they have either.

but its definitely good.

its bright and its beautiful and its loud, so theyll protect it with their eyes wide open but in the meantime class 1A just sits back and watches the twin stars of UA unravel like leaves in the cool mornings of fall

they go everywhere together, always holding hands. bakugou and deku have promise rings, little matching all might insignias glinting in the sun

they won those in an arcade somewhere. no one knows what the promise is, and no one really bothers to ask

katsuki really likes lending izuku his jackets. its nothing he says outright, just the fact that he's always ready—always one arm out of its sleeve—to bundle his sweaters and drop it into the lap of the unsuspecting nerd.

"geez, is it just me or is it really co—" *flop*

sometimes kirishima worries about his best friends allowance at the rate in which he has to replace all his jackets

they brawl in the hallways, rough house on the train station, cuddle when its cold and the common room is filled with people and light

deku often likes to surprise katsuki with little gifts. he sneaks spicy candies into the other boy's backpack between classes, slips giftcards and notes of appreciation between the pages of katsuki's textbooks

in return, as he does with everything, katsuki goes big. sometimes he surprises deku with a giant teddy bear, or soft hoodies that remind him of the other. he'll get the whole bakusquad in on it and fill the hallways in the morning with encouraging yells and loud boisterous laughter

sometimes, obviously, they'll still mess up. They're still teenagers, still human.

Deku will sometimes not say things that he should and Kacchan will sometimes say things he doesn't mean.

they'll fight and yell and unsettle the dorms with how charged the air becomes. sometimes Aizawa's worried they'll go back to ground beta and increase the hero course's already abysmal annual repair budget again like they used to do when they were stressed and repressed and each other obsessed

but then bakugou will sneak into dekus balcony at the dead of night, like some sort of delinquent trying to visit their goody two shoes lover at the risk of running into their shotgun father

(which in this case, bakugou supposes, would be uraraka--the metaphorical shotgun being a very tired todoroki)

and he'll knock on the window gently, trying not to smile as izuku opens the window and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"ka... cchan?"

katsuki lets himself smirk at last and tells deku theyre sneaking out.

phrases it like a taboo secret, even as aizawa watches from the security footage room exasperated but also kind of relieved because of all things his class has gone through, a little midnight tryst is the least dangerous of them all. its not even close to the biggest secret deku's ever had, and by god he has plenty.

but he stifles his giggles into the palm of his hand and watches as bakugou precariously sits on the metal railing, clothes a mess and leaves still stuck in his hair

"Our little secret, okay?" Kacchan jokes, red eyes glimmering with something raw and perfect. "Don't tell your dad about me."

Izuku rolls his eyes and reminds him that All Might isn't actually his father, god Kacchan! You've met my real dad!

Yet still, he lets it pass.

And then, oh so carefully yet recklessly as if they weren't the most powerful duo of their generation, katsuki reaches out and slips deku's hands in his and takes him away

takes him to a beach (Dagobah, because of course it is) in the middle of the night, the stars brighter than theyve ever been because everything looks different when youre young and in love

they lay in the sand and listen to the waves and some weird beat thats been stuck in Izuku's head. Bakugou turns to watch his eyelashes flutter against freckled cheeks and holds out a pinky.

"I'm sorry. By the way. I didn't mean what I said and I want you to be happy."

Izuku hums and they talk it out. Eventually the other boy holds his pinky out too and they link together like pieces of a puzzle.

Under the stars, the two of them make a million promises. Promises that they know they'll break, promises that they know they won't, promises that leave them uncertain and guessing.

"—but you promise, though. Right? You promise that we'll still be by each other? Us against the world forever and ever even after this. Even when we grow old?"

Their pinkies stay linked together and the two boys know for sure that it's one of those highschool promises that they will keep forever.

Deku stares into pretty red eyes that remind him of juicy apples and warm bonfires beside friends who never run out of stories to tell

Katsuki stares back into clear green eyes that remind him of calming tea and lush grass he lays down on in the familiar heat of a summer afternoon

they just. stare. stare and stare and stare and maybe, they begin to think

maybe in those eyes, i can see our future.

and its good.

its really really good.

233 notes · View notes

notepadsandtealeaves · 3 years

Text

Tim Drake x GN!Reader in: The Ends Verses the Means

12 Days of Batmas || Day 7—Decorating Your Home

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

↞ previous: aching stomachs and full hearts || baking cookies

|| ao3 version | 12 days m.list | batboys tag | main blog ||

|| dames day 7 | dick day 7 | jay day 7 ||

It really says something about what your life has become, you think, that you’d hardly blink if you walked through a wormhole that led to a department store, but you’re thoroughly confused by why a relatively innocuous Christmas song is playing in your home.

Yet another side effect of dating a Bat that no one warned you about.

His methods are a bit odd, but you can’t argue with the results…

↠ Requested By: No one, technically ((but given the fact that I’ve been working on this series since last year I’m sure you’re all ready for me to wrap this ish up lmao)) ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: SFW fluff ((but my blog’s 18+ so if minors want to consume my sfw stuff while still respecting my wishes of them staying out of this space, they can head over to my AO3)) ↠ CWs/TWs: Things get a lil suggestive towards the end of the ficlet, but it’s nothing too spicy. ↠ Betas? Nah, we don’t do that here. ↠ Total WC: 1.9k~

Annnd, we’re back in business. Will we fare better this time around? I honestly cannot say, but I’m hopeful!

Anyways…

In this installment I mostly focus on decorating for Christmas since that’s the holiday I personally celebrate. But if you go in for something different these boys have totally got you, one hundred percent 💖

Headcanon || WC: 1.1k~

🌟 Tim has a Festivus Pole.

That’s it, that’s all I got, thanks for coming to my TEDTalk, folks. Get home safe!

((Here’s a link, if you don’t get the reference.))

But seriously tho, he’s not all that big on Christmas despite having celebrated it for the whole of his childhood.

I touched on this a bit back in day 4’s installment, but basically his parents made the holidays feel mass produced and highly impersonal to the point where he’s all but turned off from them.

In the time since he’s been mending his relationship with the holiday, but despite all of Alfie and the rest’s best efforts he’s still kinda shaky on it.

🌟 That was all just my long winded way of saying that if you don’t want to celebrate Christmas, or any other winter holiday for that matter, he gets it.

It should also be said that he’s well aware that his issues are rather minor when set up against those of others, and he’s not out to try and compare things.

But this is all too heavy for this particular HC so let’s move on, shall we?

🌟 Anyways!

🌟 He’s not so soured on the holiday season that celebrating with loved ones is completely off of the table.

He’s down to do whatever it is you’re most comfortable, be it a full out decking of halls or something v. minimalistic and-or obscure like Festivus.

((I was not kidding, he really does have a Pole lmao))

🌟 Like his brothers he’s a knowledge monger—in fact he’s the biggest one of them all—so expect to be asked a thousand and one questions about your holiday of choice/cultural customs/personal traditions.

Given how often he falls into random rabbit holes on the internet when really he should be sleeping, there’s a good chance that he already has at least some passing knowledge about said holiday, but he’s always down to learn more.

Because he does not know how to do things casually, he’ll download damn near every book on the subject that has a four-star or above rating on Amazon lmao.

Also looks at Wikis, but that’s more so because he wants to see how wrong they got things.

((you just know that he’s the kind to edit that site religiously; he finds it relaxing, the lil weirdo lol))

If you celebrate something other than Christmas he’ll probably get more into it by way of it being removed from what he grew up with.

He’s gonna want to know what makes the holiday/season special to you and all the little things that go along with that so that he can provide you with the personally tailored experience that he never got as a small child.

In fact after just one year of this he’ll find that he looks forwards to such things. He may not be able to change the past, but making a such a lovely and beautifully entwined future with you? Yeah, he likes the sound of that…

🌟 All that said he’s not super big on decorating, but that’s only because he hasn’t really given it a proper chance.

Again, he didn’t get to do things like this in the earlier parts of his childhood, and by the time he got to Bruce he’d already been left jaded. Alfie tried to get him to help out with trimming the tree and the like, but by then he was in full on surly teen mode.

Once he got older and moved into his own spot he never had a reason to decorate—especially since Dick would roll around every year and fix his place up whether he wanted him to or not lol.

All that said he’s not actually opposed to the idea, and he loves you besides, so if you want to go all out he’s more than willing to help.

Once you start you’ll both be pleasantly surprised to find that he really gets into it.

🌟 His personal tastes are low-key avant-garde, weirdly enough.

Like he fucks with some really strange shit, but somehow it works??

For example: he’ll get a jet black tree and trim it with those hollow geometric shapes in one metallic hue or another and pure white lights. It doesn’t really look much like a Christmas tree, but it’s still v. pretty. It’s certainly a focal piece if nothing else.

Sometimes it seems like he’s going out of his way to make things as odd as possible, but that’s only because he is lol. He really likes pushing the limits on what can still be considered a Christmas tree.

He also really likes the more traditional, but highly elaborate joints that the mall displays every year, but ain’t nobody got time for that, and he knows that he’d probably never be able to achieve that look himself anyways. Though if you can, please go for it! He’d love to see it.

Another one that’d have multiple trees because he’s got too many Ideas™ lol.

🌟 Trees aside, he really likes sleek, clean lines and monochrome palettes in general, so if left to his own devices expect your home to look like something out of a video game.

Think DBH or even the classier bits of CP2077. Classic silhouettes gone geometric with a slightly futuristic vibe.

Also LED lights. Like a lot of them. He can really give Jay a run for his money in this department lol.

🌟 The general vibe is… interesting while you’re decorating.

By the time you get ready to put everything up he’s already laid out a plan so all there is left to do now is execute it.

Like Dames, he wants to get things done as quickly as possible, because while he does enjoy the process more than he expected to, it’s hardly the most entertaining task in the world.

…it doesn’t help that he’s keyed up on several servings of something caffeinated lol.

This leads to him damn near flying through things for the first half only to slow down drastically once all that sugar starts to kick in. The crash is real, y’all, but he pushes through.

Once he calms the atmosphere gets p. chill, naturally. So much so that he’ll probably end up falling asleep in a really random place/position.

You may or may not have an entire album’s worth of photos of this. One of the cutest has to be the one where he’s curled up around a tangled ball of lights. You had wanted to throw the thing out, but he had insisted that he could undo it, but before he could even get a quarter of a way through it he passed out lmao…

🌟 Overall decorating with Tim turns out to be a lot more enjoyable than either of you thought it would be. And honestly he loves you a little bit more for giving him a new perspective on and appreciation for such things…

The Ends Verses the Means || WC: 700~

“Make my wish come true “All I want for Christmas is you~”

You squint your eyes at the overly familiar tune that blares out from some unknown source before looking around to make sure you haven’t somehow wandered into a Macy’s or something. But no, you are indeed in your living room, but honestly that just makes this whole thing weirder. It really says something about what your life has become, you think, that you’d hardly blink if you walked through a wormhole that led to a department store, but you’re thoroughly confused by why a relatively innocuous Christmas song is playing in your home.

Yet another side effect of dating a Bat that no one warned you about.

You heft the box of decorations that have been collecting dust in your storage closet since last year up higher against your hip as you peer at your man. He certainly looks like the Tim you’d left not even five minutes ago, but there’s still the chance that this is some sort of parallel universe where everything is exactly the same, but he voluntarily listens to “All I Want for Christmas is You”.

When you comment on this he just snorts. “I’m using it as inspiration.”

“For…?”

“Getting this decorating done faster,” he tells you blandly. “No shade to Ms. Carey, but this song’s been playing in stores for nearly two months at this point, never mind the fact that Dick’s been blasting the album in the Cave since Freeze powered the city back in October.” You can’t help but to laugh a bit at the shudder that racks his frame, and though he does glare at you there’s no real heat behind the action.

“Anyway, I figured that putting it on loop would be a good motivator to get through all of this in one go.”

You concede the point with a shrug, before settling down on the couch and placing the box at your feet so you can nose through its contents. We’ve got to start labeling this stuff better, you decide as you find yet another set of lights. At least these are actually wrapped properly around the spool and not a jumbled mess like the last two you’d run across.

“Hey, what color are those?” Tim asks as he tosses a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Looks like a white and blue mix.”

“Excellent. Pass ‘em over, would ya?”

The two of you continue to work in a companionable silence, with the only the breach being your occasional hum of the song’s catchy hook. It isn’t until you find yourself repeating it well over twenty minutes later that you realize that nothing else has played.

“…Tim, baby, when you said you were gonna loop it…?”

He takes in your expression—mildly shell-shocked, underlined by a creeping dread—with a confused furrow of his brow. “What? What were you expecting?”

“The album. I thought you were gonna loop the whole album, not just this song!”

“How would that help? That album’s a bop. I mean not that this song isn’t, it’s just overplayed, yanno?”

Before you can nope out of the room, toned arms are pulling you in to an embrace that you cannot readily escape—not that you want to overmuch, even when the opening notes of the cursed song starting up again. He points out how his plan’s working in between a smattering of kisses, and though you hate to admit it, he is right. You’ve nearly completed your living room, and if you keep this momentum you’ll probably be done with the whole of the house in an hour or so.

Maybe this is the real reason stores keep this in rotation. It imbues its listeners with some type of weird holiday fueled energy, while simultaneously lulling you into a scarily efficient stupor…

You don’t bother with voicing this, choosing instead to meet Tim’s next peck full on. The kiss draws out into something that leaves you breathless and aching, but before it can deepen into something more he breaks away. Your whining pout is met with one last brush of lips before he pulls away completely, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at ruddy, slightly swollen lips.

“Help me get this done, pretty baby, and then we can make some music of our own, yeah?”

“That was cheesy as fuck, Drake.”

“Maybe,” he admits with an easy smile, “but you really trying to get garland up now, ain’t you?”

“…shut up and work.”

“As my love commands…”

🌟 Day 8: Movie Nights with the (Bat)Boys™, Pt. 4 || Watching Holiday Specials

Movie nights with Tim are p. commonplace, but are no less lovely for it. Because really, how can they be anything but wonderful when you’ve got your baby wrapped snug in your arms?

There’s no place he’d rather be and certainly no one else he’d rather be with.

Taglist is open, but to 18+ users only.

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol...

#((Immy does fan fiction: the Batboys))#tim drake x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader #tim drake x gn!reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #tim drake headcanon #tim drake hc #tim drake imagine #tim drake scenario #tim drake fluff

18 notes · View notes

stellaestra · 3 years

Text

how would stray kids interact with mc in high school if they ever met? // high school au headcanons [stray kids/reader]

pairing: skz hyung line + mc [reader]

description: who would mc interact with in high school if they ever met? what kind of interactions would they have? // bulletpoints headcanons + small snippets

genre: platonic, high school au, friendship, humour, hurt/comfort

author’s note: this could be a stand alone or not, the mc is the same bodyguard/intern au!mc...it's just a "what ifs" kinda thing, fellas

p.s. some of the scenarios are based off real life events that happened to me in high school but i overly exaggerated some of them for the shit and giggles,, tell me which event actually happened to me in the askbox lmao I'm curious

pls I'm funny i swear

cw: minor swearing, just teenagers being teenagers, idiots, mention of blood (?) uhh mentions of violence (??)

unedited

// no beta read, we’ll die like men

---

bang chan

mc is a '00 liner,

she doesn't interact with her seniors pt.1

to interact with them; it would have to be a school event or a collab project between the seniors and the juniors

possibly would be approached first by chan during sports day or a school festival for something

he thought that she's a pretty decent track runner when he saw sprint during the sports day track event

after that incident, chan would greet her in the hallways or wherever if he ever comes across her

mc would always awkwardly greet him back

“hey! you’re that really fast track runner, you did great that day!” chan complimented her in the hallways. out loud.

mc prays to whoever above there that chan would stop talking so loud as she could feel her face burn when she felt eyes on her.

cue to her awkwardly smiling at him and nodding, “yep, that’s me, yes, alright, senior chan.”

chan finds her adorable ever since that first few encounters

he also found out that she hangs out with felix just as much as he does

(love rivals (for felix) arc when)

he doesn’t know who to be envious of

that mc gets to spend so much time with lix or

felix being able to spend so much time with her

the never-ending saga

(love rivals (for felix) arc turned into possible rivals to friends arc)

(okay, im joking)

their respective friends group made a running joke

about how chan and mc are love rivals for felix

(it eventually became theirs as well)

(it's funny)

once he made her go off-tangent about felix

she was really passionate about his freckles and smile

for a moment

he really did think that she has a crush on him

no surprises there tho

felix IS absolutely cute

(friends arc?? omg, all for felix, HA)

he really really finds her adorable

he could go on for days

esp her little habit of covering her mouth when she speaks

sweater paws bc he almost always sees her with a jacket on even if it was a hot day

it's like a second skin on her

he once asked her if she ever removes her jacket

“only when im on school ground or during school events like assembly, i’ll take it off, senior chan.”

“eh? don’t you feel warm underneath that during a hot day?”

“...i do remove it sometimes, i guess...but i like wearing it bc it’s comforting.”

one time chan saw her without her jacket and wears short-sleeves uniform, he really wanted to shower her in his affections n also it’s such a rare sight that he almost couldnt recognized her

“haha hey, you didn’t wore your jacket today!”

“they’re in the laundry and...today’s a hot day...unfortunately, haah.”

he once tried to ruffle her hair but found her dodging his hand so fast at breakneck speed

that he was kinda concerned

she told him that her hair hasn't been washed yet so it's dirty

but the thing is: she told him every time he tried to ruffle her hair

“you’re not letting me pat your head on purpose.”

“senior chan, i wouldn’t do such a thing.” he noticed the little teasing smile before it disappeared.

he wondered briefly if she has always been this playful and cheeky with others her age

chan is aware that she speaks formally towards him out of habit though so he lets it slide and let her take her time growing comfortable with him.

he knew she was lying but let's her be anyway

bc she's his cute little junior

---

lee minho

another case of mc's "no seniors juniors interaction"

minho’s very attractive so mc will definitely avoid him at all cost

plus, he looks intimidating to her so bye bye

to not step on any of her classmates' landmines that has the hots for him

drama isn't her thing, she already witness a handful and even got thrown into the fire as fuel before

no thank you she liked having her life in high school as peaceful as possible

mc would make her conversations with him very short n blunt

she's not gonna catch anyone's hands today, my dudes

really, she doesn’t

minho thinks of her like a small kitten that needs to be taken care of

bc of how she always scutters away from chan whenever he’s with him

if they ever interact

it would be when the juniors have the collab with their seniors

like a science fair, where the students have to come up with things to showcase

his class coincidentally collabs with her class for that particular event

he told chan about it and he have never seen chan pout and deflate like that

the only person he does that to is felix...if not, it’s jeongin.

chan sure adores this little junior other than felix huh…

then again, felix and mc does hangout a lot and so does jisung and her

so he took this chance as to know more abt her

coughs because jisung seems to be talking a lot about her coughs

(minho + mc love rivals (for jisung) arc pt. 2 when)

(mc really about to fight 2 seniors because she's stealing their respective juniors huh)

(the never-ending saga of love rivals)

he approached her inside that shared classroom for the collab event

she looked constipated when he approached her group of friends

even more so when he directly asked for name and whatnot

it kinda made him want to tease her even more now

he found out her name and what they were planning to do

heard her cursing under her breath

he decided to join their group on the whim

found out that mc is just a little shy whenever he approached her

her friends are somewhat protective of her

he got glared at by one of them once when he wanted to greet mc in the hallways

and mc kind of hid half of herself behind them

so whenever she’s on her own, he would try to approach her as slowly as possible

like. dealing with a cat and you’re a stranger trying to gain their trust

what he never will forget nor stop teasing her was about

her spinning on her heels to walk into the direction she was previously coming from

just to avoid him

he couldn't help but find it hilarious

he won her over when he brings the topic of cats wandering around their school campus

saw how her eyes lit up brightly

“the stray cats here are fun to play with, right?”

“yeah, me and friends decided to name a few of them too!”

he mentioned it to her because he saw her playing with the cats when she was waiting for someone or when she has time to play with them during recess

and the ramblings of a high schooler about cats commences

he wasn’t bothered about how much she talked

would nod along with what she says

because wow, shes really passionate about cats

that's a huge bonus for minho

and that was how minho adopted another kitten

whenever they weren’t busy with their own things, they would play with the cats together

playdate with cats <3

she would tell him that one particular grey cat was called

“this cat’s name is miss universe! they’re so cute, right?” she picked the cat up and cuddle with it, eyes sparkling with joy

“why did you guys name them that?”

“because why not?”

“fair enough point.”

and she laughs

he was glad that she stopped being so cautious around him if he was being honest

since the way chan was talking about her so affectionately made him really curious about her

casually mentions that jisung talks about her a lot

expected her to be bashful about it

but all she does was

“oh, cool, what did he say? I’m a weeb? Hah, he’s the same as I am” + "he should've said to it my face, senior minho, hmph"

so making her flustered backfired on him

poor minho

here’s your “you tried” star

mwah

so yeah, minho adopted a new cat (his little junior)

---

seo changbin

same case as the two above, unfortunately

if they do ever interact, it's short and pleasantries

mc does kinda find him intimidating to certain extent

she's not good with dealing with intimidating looking people

but when he smiles, her shoulders feel less tense when she interacts with him

thinks of him as a pretty cool senior

he made her listen to his rap once n she told him that he's so cool n that stuck with him for days

imagine a junior telling you that you're so cool with that starry-eyed expression

your ego would go off the rooftop

after that, changbin would make it out of his way to greet her in the hallways

RAP MUSIC BUDDIES???? POTENTIAL

pat her on the head occasionally

if she doesn't dodge like hell away from his hands

“why do you keep avoiding them”

“no, don’t pat me, you’re treating me like a cat”

“I’m not?” lies, ever since minho told him that she reminds him of a cat, he really thought about it more

“you have that same look minho gives me when he tries to pat me…hyung…”

“we’re really going to make you call us oppa one day, watch us”

“um, yeah, no.”

“let your cute senior pat your head!!”

“im gonna run away!”

he knows that the younger ones in their friend group do interact with her

esp felix and jisung

for innie’s circumstances, that’s different

she does comes to him every once in awhile to abuse her title of his cute little junior to get a chance to listen to a teaser of his raps or songs he composes

found out that she does like rap songs! a lot more than he thought

they became those friends who shares new songs they found out and share it with each other

even at ungodly hours like 2am in the morning

that would not stop them

“this song reminds me of you”

“hey hey hey listen to this, psst”

“This shit SLAPS, go listen or else im gonna fight you in the school hallway, coward”

he became smug about it and boast about his knowledge to 3racha

jisung complained that he thought she only listened to anime songs or soft indie songs because he saw her playlists before

changbin told them that she has other playlists that’s for more “intense and aggressive” songs

they were floored and the conversation starts like this,

“what do you mean she likes listening to yours and ours music and raps?”

“im not kidding, she does! she even showed me her playlists that were filled with rap, rock and metal songs!!”

“my little mc? likes those songs? are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

“it’s a public playlist, i even followed her playlists”

“If you’re wrong, hyung, im really gonna fight you on this! bc I KNOW her first”

“doesn’t mean that you know her BETTER”

lots of petty bickerings

chan and jisung has a big revelation about mc that day at school

(there goes mc’s little rep within their group of friends)

he did warned them to not tell her that he told them about it and

that they actually are aware of her music taste

or else

she tried to rap really fast one time, trying to rap like how he does

he had to witness her biting her tongue live

changbin would never think someone like her would have

such a vulgar language

every profanity he knows came out of her mouth

he quickly got her something to soothe her wounded tongue

after fretting over her though, he started teasing her

relentlessly

she threatened to sue him

"I'll sue you"

"with what money?"

"my 2 fucking dollars lunch money!"

"that's not enough to pay anything, not even your attorney!"

"fight me!"

he’s that older brother figure that mc would come to whenever she has no one to tell her woes to

their relationship turned out to have lots of playful banters and teasings

he gives very comforting hugs and pats

mc doesn’t want to admit it tho

well, until, changbin caught her snuggling into his hugs one fine day

“admit it, you like them, you like my hugs”

“okay, fine, i DO like them, they’re great hugs, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I KNEW IT”

“You’re so loud, shut up, hyung!”

“OH MY GOD, YOU FINALLY ADMIT TO IT, IM GONNA TELL THE WORLD-KSDFNKSDNF-”

"FUCK- I SAID, SHUSH"

rip in peace, changbin

he didn’t expect someone like her would have so much strength to smother his mouth with her hand and shut it

the more you know

curiousity killed the cat????

---

hwang hyunjin

avoidance at all cost (pt.2) despite being in the same year

why? exhibit a: he's considered very attractive in her year and that her classmates n batch mates have crushes on him

coughs one of the school princes coughs

their batch year prince

she's really gonna swerve away from him

interactions will be kept at a bare minimum

one time hyunjin n some others wanted to borrow a textbook from their class because they have forgotten theirs n he chose hers

she could feel cold sweat forming as she feels the death stare of some of her classmates

that gta [wasted] sfx whenever ur character dies

yeah that's mc

that was probably the last time she would even think about it

when he returned it back to her, he smiled at her, the really cute eye smile and she felt like she made the target on her back bigger lol

goodbye mc you've lived a good life

your friends will definitely will play never gonna give you up during your funeral (it's a promise)

jokes aside

hyunjin would probably noticed the panicked look in her eyes and wondered why

since his friends like felix and...jisung...and seungmin are like on good terms with her

he probably wondered about it a lot

borderlines on overthinking since both felix and jisung are particularly close to her

so she should know that he’s friends with them

ever since that encounter, it would come across his head whenever he saw her hanging out freely with felix or jisung or both of them

or when he come across her in the hallways

sometimes he wants to greet her but it feels like it would scare her away

esp when she looks ready to run into the opposite direction

if he ever made eye contact with her

so his plan to befriend mc has started

tried to join into the trio hangout; jisung, felix and mc

mc never did protest his presence like at all

but does occasionally look stiff when he's near her

eventually shes comfortable enough with him

but not enough to actually hang out with him alone though

that thought kind of made him feel envious towards the other boys

and a little left out

as a teenager, he has too many emotions to handle so

jisung and felilx caught the idea and told him to let her

take her time because she kinda. shy. (???)

that didn't stop him from mulling over it tho sometimes

one day he found her waiting at the bus stop

it was in the evening, she was still in her school uniform

he was kinda on an errand run too

kinda didn’t want to sit on the same bench as her

afraid that she might run away

she noticed him standing there eventually albeit very anxiously and kinda awkward

a casual greeting slipped past her lips which shocked hyunjin to his very core

he splutters back a reply

“on an errand run, errand boy?"

"huh?"

“uh, um, pretend that i didn’t say anything.”

“right, sure, but may i sit next to you, the bus seemed to be late and my legs are kinda tired.”

“oh, uh, yeah, sure, but you didn’t have to ask, y’know?”

“well, didn’t wanna scare you off…"

“it’s nothing personal, if that’s what you’re worried about,” + “it’s just. didn’t wanna step on a landmine and the girls in our batch seemed to adore you a lot and me being close to you might set off the wrong signal…?”

“that’s absurd, you’re...being unreasonable..i mean, its none of their business-!”

“i know, im sorry, my bad, it’s not your fault either, it’s not anyone’s fault, to be honest.”

for a moment, he found her reasoning to be petty and unreasonable until it finally clicks inside her head, from her point of view when he really thought it through.

“...no wait, im sorry, i think, i kinda get why when i really thought about it.”

“yeah, it’s no biggie, don’t worry, im sorry too, we’ll both get over it”

“...um, we’re friends, right?”

“...i suppose so, if you dont mind, dummy.”

a giddy smile crossed his face while mc struggles to not stare at him looking so cute like that as she coughs into her hand, avoiding eye-contact

pretty boys have too much power in their hands

and she’s one of their fallen victims towards their charms

this isn’t fair for her heart

so when the bus arrived

they sat beside each other on the bus

hyunjin did most of the chattering while mc listens

he was so glad he cleared smth up with her

if she allows it, he would definitely tried to hug her

until he remembers that one time changbin told him he almost got punch in the face by her

when he tried doing it the first time and startled her

yeah no not now

maybe sometime in the near future, a long-awaited hug would be great

(if he was honest tho, he really wanted to cry when she told him the truth)

(it felt like a heartache)

but it’s okay now though

they’re friends now (somewhat) and that’s all that matters

---

[masterlist]

96 notes · View notes

whenimaunicorn · 5 years

Text

The Split

The Mandalorian x female Reader

(gif contributed by @bennskywalker) (much love and undying gratitude to @equalstrashflavoredtrash for constant cheerleading, support, and beta services, and saving me every time I felt stuck on a scene; and also to @cptnbvcks for indulging the Big Meat headcanon and guaranteeing it’s happening in all my fics)

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: choking, spanking, dominance/submission, threats during intimacy, rough sex Words: 8478

Summary: The Reader is a fellow Nevarran bounty hunter, working with the Mandalorian to catch a quarry and splitting the reward. They keep renegotiating the split until passions spark and other, kinkier interests start slipping out.

Full Fic:

There’s one thing you can appreciate about working with the Mandalorian: he sure knows how to be terrifying to his quarry. It’s not about bluster with him, or wild threats that can make a hunter seem unhinged; it’s in his sheer presence. He’s caught up to the quarry you’ve been tracking together, and now he looms over his prey like he’s inevitable.

‘Course, you’d never let him know he even made you shiver. “Enough with the dramatics,” you say to him, coming up behind the cowering bounty and yanking her arms together behind her back. “I’m the one that got her blaster out of her hand, and that’s the hardest part. Once they’re disarmed it’s all over. That ups my cut to 70%.”

A frustrated little hiss emanates from your business partner. He points that looming mask more squarely at you. “Fifty-five was what we agreed,” he says, words clipped. “And that was only because you had the specific location—”

“Without which your schedule wouldn’t have been worth shit,” you finish for him, pressing the binder around your quarry’s wrists. At least, the metal cuff clicks shut around one of them…

Suddenly the woman is whirling around, slamming the solid metal of the binder, hanging off just one wrist, right into your stomach.

You try to grab her but the momentum is not in your favor, especially with the wind knocked squarely out of your gut. You brace your hands on your knees, willing yourself not to fall completely down as you fight the pain, not in front of Mando, and manage to suck in a decent breath as you look up with involuntary tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Just in time to see the Mandalorian grab the woman by the throat, stopping her escape in its tracks. He shoves her to her knees, bristling with frank irritation, and presses the muzzle of his blaster to the side of her skull. “Stay down.”

You stagger one step in their direction. Your gut hurts just about as much as your pride.

You can’t see a smirk on that cold metal face, but you know there has to be one as he looks over at you. “What were you saying about the hard part of the job being over? I’ll take that seventy.”

“This gets you maybe an extra five,” you wheeze, stomping to the quarry kneeling at his feet and jamming her other hand into the binder where it belongs. “And you’re forgetting that I was the one that noticed her sneaking out that hatch in the back.”

Another one of his annoying silences follows, the one where he stands so still and makes you wait, just guessing what thoughts might be bouncing around inside the helmet. “And she’s going back in my ship. My fuel, my carbonite. I’ll take sixty.”

You huff.

“You’re the one that started this. I would have been fine with the original agreement.”

You roll your eyes. “We’ll talk about it after she’s loaded in.”

“Up,” the Mandalorian barks at the quarry, digging those orange-tipped fingers into the cloth covering her shoulder and hauling her to her feet.

The woman complies, looking defeated, and you all start walking across the plateau toward where the Razor Crest has been hidden. Mando’s been in the game too long to pay docking fees at an official spaceport on a planet so chaotic that you can get away without.

Soon enough, the quarry says what everyone with a price on their head says, once the binders are tight around their wrists. “You know, you two really don’t have to worry about your split. Just let me get back to my guys, I can pay you each as much as that whole price on my head.”

You snort. “If that were true, we wouldn’t have found you working in such a shit-hole. No way the syndicate values you that much.”

“I seem to recall a story about you taking up a quarry on an offer like that once,” Mando’s modulator emits at you. He slows his pace so he can see your face as the three of you trudge across the uneven ground. “Didn’t it end with another Guild member finding you stripped and tied up in a cellar? That would have been a sight to see.”

“I heard that story too,” you shoot back. “Wasn’t me. But if you want to see me like that, Mando, maybe you can try to play your cards right a little later…” you force your mouth to close. Not the most well-thought-out comeback. Nor the kind of thing to say if you want a fellow Hunter’s respect. Which you do. It’s just that there’s something about the Mandalorian that’s damned enticing, that makes you wonder if he ever loosens up even a little, lets anyone touch the warm body that’s gotta be somewhere underneath all that armor.

“I know a good hotel in the East Quarter,” the quarry pipes up before Mando gives you a response, “soft mattresses, and real good soundproofing in the walls. Maybe you two need to work out some of this sexual tension before taking me back to the ship? You can just stick me in another room until you’re done.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d just twiddle your thumbs and wait real nice for us.” You stick your blaster into her ribs and prod her to move faster, just for being annoying. “Sweet of you to be so generous, but don’t worry. He and I’ll have plenty of privacy while you’re stashed away in carbonite for the ride to Nevarro.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet turns toward you sharply.

“What? It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mando, but I always collect in-person. I’m riding with you.”

Mando’s ship is a real bare-bones operation; it’s not much more than a cargo hold and a cockpit. It’s almost enough to make you regret insisting on coming along. You can’t find a spot to get comfortable in, and there’s nothing to do. Mando’s not helping; he’s been sitting at the controls of the ship, back perfectly straight, since take-off. The course has already been set; the eerie lines of hyperspace are streaking by, and there’s nothing in this cockpit that actually requires his attention unless something goes wrong.

“So… what do you usually do while you’re in hyperspace?” you finally ask, slouching against the cockpit wall.

Mando’s hands turn palm up. “This.”

“You serious?”

He shrugs. “Good time to meditate.”

You look out at the rushing stars. “You have got to be kidding me. I’d go completely crazy in about five minutes.”

“You probably would,” he says. So calm, so matter-of-fact.

You look down at him sharply. He hasn’t moved a muscle, though he could be looking at you sideways through his visor and you’d never know. Infuriating. You plop down into the seat behind him. “You don’t think I’m capable of being quiet?”

“I’ve never known you to be.”

You flip your hair. “Some of us have a thing called ‘people skills.’ But it doesn’t look like they cover that in Mandalorian school.”

Now he turns his face toward yours. “Is that what you think you have.”

You nod, stifling the quick words that heat up your tongue so you can prove how quiet you can be.

“I’ve seen you try to get free drinks from soldiers that haven’t had shore leave in months, and still not be able to seal the deal.”

Mando? Teasing you? That’s new. You scoff at the accusation. “You just left too early. You would have seen where that night went. Try loosening up a little sometimes.”

Another silence. Then he swivels away from you, back to his perfect posture. “No thanks.”

“What are you jealous?”

The stack of armor in the pilot’s seat gives you no reaction at all.

You exhale loudly. “You know, I always thought you must have had some other kind of life to go back to, the way you drop those pucks off with Karga and never stick around.” You glance down the ladder at the empty cargo hatch, thinking of the junky little cot you saw crammed into a closet down there. “But you really live like this? Nothing but work for you, huh. Is that what it takes to be the best hunter in the sector?”

His helmet moves a fraction in your direction. “At least you can admit it.”

Your face gets hot. You did not mean to give that to him. “Some people say that about you.” You cross your arms, trying to get more comfortable by throwing your feet up on the control panel to his left.

He rolls his neck, beskar facing pointedly at your feet until you huff and move them.

Your frustration cracks into all-out mockery. “Ooh,” you blurt out in a sing-song voice, “I’m Mando, when I’m not hunting I sit perfectly straight and stare into space; my capture rate is near-perfect because I never sleep and guns are my religion.”

His helmet tilts above his metal-encased shoulder, dangerously close to actually looking at you again. “If you’re going to keep running your mouth like that, I can think of a few ways to make you shut up.”

It takes you a moment to recover from the rush that shoots through your body, a confusing mix of adrenaline and frank arousal as he speaks to you with the tone he usually reserves for quarries. Then you bark out a laugh. “Mando! Did you just make a dirty joke?”

Slowly he swivels the chair toward you, until he’s facing you squarely with his legs spread and fists on his knees. “I suppose you could take it that way.”

And then he just sits there, staring at you, as you decide which way to take it. Was he trying to say he hadn’t meant it as a come-on? That you’re the only one here with a dirty mind, that immediately imagined him shoving his cock down your throat? Fuck. Or does he want you to take it that way, to climb into his lap and sit your ass down on the battered metal plate covering his thigh…

You have to shake your head a little to make the thoughts stop. That is so not what he means. “You’re just mad that we make a great team,” you say, standing up and grinning, trying a new tactic. “That after almost bungling the hunt today,” the helmet cocks sharply at that accusation, “you realize that you need me. I’ve got skills you can’t even come close to.”

It’s hard to determine what sound comes out of his modulator, but you think it’s a snort. “What are you talking about.”

“My aforementioned people skills, for a start. Don’t forget I was the one that took in that warlord on Strigoth by getting him to follow me out to the edge of town without any of his guards. Not everything has to be a shootout. And I knew the quarry today was going to run before you did.”

Mando crosses his arms over his chestplate. “Keep telling yourself that. I’m still not raising your percentage.”

“I can hack any security system since the final Imperial update release, which is most of them in the Rim, and on top of all that”—you swing your left hand in like you’re going to slap him upside the helmet, and when he lifts his arm to block, you smack him over the ear with your right—“I’m faster than you.”

You jump back instantly, not sure how he’s going to react. His body tenses up into a fighter’s crouch, starting to come up out of the chair toward you. Then he sits back down, body language deliberately relaxing. He adjusts his helmet with one hand. “You’re a child.”

“I call it playful,” you shoot back, the adrenaline rush of what you just did almost making you giggle. “Another asset you seem to be lacking.”

He only shrugs in response, then swivels back to facing the oncoming stars.

He’s given you an opening that’s impossible to resist. As soon as his back is turned you swing your open hand forward. He’s ready for it, which you basically expected, and he knocks your arm away before you can make contact with his helmet this time. And ouch, that gauntlet of his jars your forearm all the way to the bone. You make a frustrated little noise. “Well, if you want to stick to business, we still have to talk about the final terms of the split. We can go back to 55-45, if you admit that today I had the superior skills.”

“With you taking the forty-five?”

“Hell no.”

He pauses, and you think he’s about to say something mature and reasonable, like he always does. Instead, he comes back with a very calmly-worded: “I could put you out the airlock right now.”

You swear there’s a wry little tone to that modulated voice. “You’d have to catch me first”—you slap the bucket on his head again—“and we’ve already determined I’m faster than you.”

“Stop that,” he growls, finally standing up. His cloak swirls dramatically and you try to suppress the primal feelings that make you a little weak in the knees when he comes up to his full height in such close quarters.

“Make me.” The words are out of your mouth before you can decide if they’re really such a good idea.

The Mandalorian’s helmet tilts. Now it’s his turn to try and work out what you may or may not be implying. When he finally speaks, there’s a new tone in his voice, one that catches something deep in your belly and drags. “You think you can take me?”

…Can you? You may be as good a Hunter as he is, but you couldn’t say unarmed combat is one of your strong suits. And you don’t even want to think about how much he out-weighs you, especially with all that armor on. But how can you possibly eat your pride and back down after you’ve provoked this?

You look around the tiny space of the Razor Crest’s cockpit. Mando’s helmet stays squarely aimed at your face.

“A lot of expensive equipment in here,” you say casually. “Wouldn’t want to damage anything throwing down right now.”

“Mm-hmm.” His skeptical hum makes the modulator crackle. Did he just lean in closer?

At this point the sexual tension is thrumming like a mis-firing engine in the space between you. If he had a face you could read, a mouth you could tilt your face up and kiss, you’d know what to do, but this? Even your renowned ‘people skills’ are failing you now.

You look away from the impassive, dark lens that covers his eyes, and that’s when he retaliates. One heavy gloved hand whips around your side and thuds a stinging strike right into your ass. The impact knocks you forward, almost into his chest, but you stop yourself before your hands touch his breastplate.

You suck in a breath and freeze, wide eyes drawn like a magnet back to that beskar face. Mando just spanked you. Hard. Mando… just… The pain ignites an arousal so sudden and strong that you’re worried you’re about to start trembling. It would absolutely kill your reputation if any Hunter found out that your sexual tastes ran submissive, that a deep secret part of you wanted nothing but to be overpowered and forced, to be used by someone stronger than you, better than you…

You can’t think of anything to do but flee. “I… uh…” His helmet tilts again, watching your face closely as you stutter. “Yeah, I guess I was being a little too childish. I’ll stop…stop trying to make you lighten up.” Your eyes slide away from his helmet’s eye slit, unable to handle even the imagined eye contact. “I’ll leave you alone to do whatever it is you do up here. Meditate. I’m gonna go down and…” you make for the ladder to the cargo hold, “and clean my blaster.”

He just watches you go. You can still feel the impact of his hand on your ass, with every movement of your leg as you climb down the rungs of the ladder. Fuck, it’s making your pussy tingle just a badly, too. Your head has just dropped below the hatch when Mando’s modulated voice follows you down with a suggestion that sounds suspiciously like a command. “Why don’t you clean mine, too.”

You feel your face and chest getting hot as soon as you get down to the relative privacy of the ship’s lower level. If you were trying to maintain control of the conversation, you’d say something sassy back to that, not let him win an inch of dominance, but you’re not in control anymore, are you? Not of yourself, not of whatever this is that’s going on between you. And it’s so dangerous. How would you keep his respect, if your top competitor in the Guild knew this about you, what you wanted him to do to you…

Mando’s weapon rack is set into the wall across from the ladder. Certainly there’s cleaning supplies stashed somewhere in that section, but you’re too shaky to get right to work. Instead, you walk down along the racks of carbonite, idly inspecting his cargo as you try and pull yourself together.

Four of the racks are currently occupied; the Mandalorian has been busy. Each one is tagged with a bounty’s chain code. You recognize two of them from Karga’s list. Quarries that you had passed on, that seemed too difficult to be worth their price. Bastard was about to show you up again when he unloaded these trophies.

You take a deep breath when you reach the end of the line. Your ass still tingles in the most tantalizing way, but you grit your teeth and tell yourself to ignore it. Maybe if you just stay down here, avoid your traveling companion until the ship reaches Nevarro, everything else will go just fine. No more bruises to your pride, no dirty secrets revealed. Yeah. That’s smart.

You turn and Mando is just there, boxing you in between the racks of carbonite carriers. How can a guy covered with so much metal be this stealthy? You try not to let shock show on your face; which only means you end up freezing like a prey animal.

“You liked that.” He makes the accusation solidly, with the weight of heavy interest bearing down behind it.

“What are you talking about.” You know, but you don’t want to answer for the heat that surely showed in your face when Mando spanked you. You try to wiggle past him, but he doesn’t acknowledge your intent, makes no move to make way for you.

“You know.” He’s just staring down at you.

You twitch in irritation and decide if he’s ignoring personal space, so can you. Your chest and thigh slide against solid armor as you force your body through the gap between him and the carbonite. “Get out of my way.”

His helmet is the only thing that moves, tracking your labored progression. “Make me.” He echoes your earlier challenge with an amused little tone.

“Fine.” You use your entire body weight to slam him into the rack on the other side. But he recovers too quickly; when you try to step away, into the center of the ship’s hold, he gets an arm around your chest.

As if your adrenaline wasn’t spiking already; now your combat reflexes kick in and you pull him in tighter, squatting low and grabbing that arm for leverage. With a quick burst of effort from your legs, you flip him over your shoulder.

You follow him down, taking advantage of the way a fall inside all that metal has to stun him, and climb on top of his body. “Fifty-five percent.” You also attempt to change the subject.

He reaches up and it’s a struggle to control his arms. He’s kriffing strong, and you’ve already taken off your combat equipment with the hidden tricks you usually use to deal with opponents that are bigger than you. He twists underneath you, in some way that you don’t expect, and with a rough shove and a brief crushing sensation along one leg you find yourself flat on the deck beneath him. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t like this?” his modulator purrs down at you.

Subject not changed. Every one of your nerve endings is in high gear now, and there’s a powerful urge inside you that wants to mewl and spread your legs apart for him right here, like a bitch in heat acknowledging the alpha male. You push the image back with a growl between your teeth, and use your thighs only to try and throw him off you.

Mando responds to your offensive by smothering you back down with his hips. Something solid crushes into the apex of your thighs, and you remember his armor does not have a codpiece.

A feral little moan escapes past your lips. Mando stops, lifting up just a little off your body and cocking his helmet to the side where it hovers only a hand’s breadth above your face. “What was that?” he asks, voice pleased.

And just like that, the whole game has changed. You were so worried he was trying to embarrass you, get one over on you. But if he likes it like this too… You reach your hand down boldly and throw his question back at him. “What’s this?” you ask as your palm makes contact with a delightfully solid bulge straining against the thick fabric of his pants.

A deep rumble purrs out of his modulator. “If you can manage to behave, maybe you’ll find out.”

How does he know exactly what to say to make you squirm? Your body floods with heat as you inwardly flail around to find a non-submissive answer. “And what happens if I don’t behave?”

“Then, maybe things get really interesting.”

Oh. Fuck. Now there’s an option. Maybe you don’t even have to submit to get the kind of tumble you want from him. You bare your teeth in a ferocious, challenging grin, and take advantage of the way he’s pulled his weight back to twist out from under him, knocking his helmet one more time with your elbow as you go.

You scramble across the deck out from under him, but a heavy hand catches your belt before you can get very far. You kick but Mando’s already inside your reach; your heel glances off his armor without even slowing him down.

He tugs on your belt, harshly, and climbs over the backs of your legs to force you down. “Where do you you think you’re going?” His voice is tight with the effort of getting himself positioned on top of you, squishing your belly into the deck.

“Mmf” is the sound you make in response, because now he’s pressing a forearm into your back and putting most of his weight on it.

“Hold still.” You give him a little token resistance, but mostly you let him get settled how he wants, holding you down to the floor evenly with the left side of his body. Leaving his right hand free. “So. What happens when you don’t behave.”

He spanks you, solid and centered and sharp.

You expected it just enough to hold your breath, and make sure you don’t cry out. You may be face-down on the floor under the Mandalorian, but you still have your pride. The first smack is followed by two more, and he grunts when you still don’t make a noise.

Heavy fingers smooth over the sting in your flesh. His hand feels amazing as it covers the swell of your ass, a slow, deliberate drag that feels warmer than it ought to and much more soothing than you expected.

“What’s it going to be, Y/N?” he asks. When you don’t answer fast enough for him, he swats at your other cheek, lazy and powerful.

Maybe he got a little noise out of you with that last one; it’s just too hard to stay quiet and not flinch both at the same time under the strength of that arm.

His helmet comes closer down to your face. “It’s okay to let go.” He speaks with such confidence, such seductive calm. “I can tell you want to submit. You don’t have to keep fighting it.” He shifts on top of you. “Though I do like it when you struggle.”

Your body rolls enticingly underneath him, without your brain’s permission. “Don’t you dare tell anyone you got me like this.”

“Of course not.” His answer is immediate. You remember how he’s always been an honorable man, that part of his reputation impeccable. Perhaps you really can trust him with this side of you. He sticks to the Code, he honors his promises, and lives by the Way of the Mandalore.

That last one begs a certain question, of course. “I wasn’t sure that Mandalorians could even have sex.”

A throaty noise makes the modulator crackle. “We have our ways.” A pause. “Is that what you want?”

You lift your head a little higher. He doesn’t give you much freedom, but he shifts just enough to help you feel comfortable breathing again. “If that’s what you’re offering, yeah, I wouldn’t be opposed to things ending up there.”

His hand gropes over your ass, fingers diving to tease more sensitive flesh between your legs. “After we… resolve a few things.” He grips tightly, almost cruelly. You agree in a sound that comes out much more high-pitched than you intended as he palms your ass and kneads it boldly. “Like whether you’re ready to start behaving like a good girl now.”

You still can’t bring yourself to just say yes, as hot as his words are making you. But you curl into his hand, just a little. To encourage him.

He growls something in a language you don’t know. It sounds like a curse and his weight is pressed down on you again as he scrambles with your belt, loosening your pants just enough to shove everything off the curve of your hips, baring you to mid-thigh in the ship’s cool air. When he spanks you now it’s sharper, the sting lighting up your tender flesh under every open-palmed strike that just keeps coming and coming. “Rubbing your ass on me does not count as an answer.” Smack. “I want to hear you say it.” Smack. “That you submit.” Smack. “That your ass is mine tonight.” A few involuntary cries squeeze out of your throat before he relents and rubs you again, the leather of his glove singing over your overstimulated skin.

You slow your panting breaths before you speak up, endeavoring to match his even tone. “Maybe I’ll play along for a little while.” You twist further, until you can stare up into his silver mask. “What do you want me to do?”

He pulls back, sitting up on his hip. From the angle of his helmet you’d guess that your answer does not really count as the submission he was looking for. Nor did you mean it to be. Someone’s gonna top you, they’ve got to earn it. Even if they are already, physically, on top of you. His moment of thought ends. “Take off your clothes.”

His hand squeezes at your ass one more time as you shift, like he’s loathe to let go while you comply with his command. You make as quick of work with your boots as you can, then push your bottoms off after them. Mando’s sitting beside you, leaning up against a large cargo crate, helmet fixed on your slowly-revealed body.

You’re so self-conscious that your skin feels like it could be glowing, as you bare it for him inch by inch. There’s nothing to read in that cold helmet, but its angle never wavers, riveted on you.

Once you’ve gotten yourself completely naked, he beckons you to come to him with two curling fingers. It’s amazingly erotic to move toward him with nothing on, while every inch of the Mandalorian warrior is still covered in battle-scarred plates.

He reaches out, palm up for your hand. You place your hand in his and he draws you in, until you’re kneeling right beside him. His fingers trail up your arms, over your shoulders, coaxing you closer. His touch is lighter than you expected. But you can hear him breathing through the mask. He’s struggling to stay this calm. To savor this.

His helmet tips down as his fingers knead harder; he watches himself press and squeeze the flesh of your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. The modulator translates another buzzing hum. Does it fascinate him, to see so much bare and vulnerable skin, when he can show none?

You feel your nipples tighten, a silent craving for contact. This feels good, but you want so much more. You look right into his eye slit. “I won’t break,” you say, twisting yourself tighter into the grip of his hands.

The Mandalorian growls and rises up to his knees, helmet filling your vision as he presses himself close and rakes his fingers down your back. He’s looking down at your panting chest and squeezing your ribs, watching the way your pristine tits are so close to brushing against his dirty metal chestplate. He clutches you in, pressing your belly against his, betraying a desire for closeness that he just can’t achieve.

Your hands come up to his shoulders, burrowing through the cowl wrapped around his collar, trying to make contact. Your fingers curl up the column of his neck, where the thinner fabric lets you feel a hint of his body heat. He stiffens when you come close to the bottom of his helmet.

“Leave it,” he snarls, just as you’re telling him “Don’t worry, I wasn’t—"

He scoops you up tightly and sets you on top of the cargo crate he had been leaning against. Your legs open and wrap around him of their own volition as he presses between them. You cross your ankles underneath his cloak, locking his body in close. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, just inside the pauldrons, but don’t attempt to slide under anything again.

Leather-clad fingers rake up your ribs, dragging up the sides of your body before they close over your breasts. Finally. You arc into him and let your eyes close, feeling the texture of his gloves across sensitive skin, the hungry twisting and tugging against your nipples.

“Open your eyes,” he demands, voice breathy with as much arousal as you’re feeling. “I want you to look at me, keep looking at me, let me see…”

He trails off, but you can guess what he means. Let him see what it feels like to be touched. You tip your chin down and lock your eyes on that T-shaped window in his helmet. His fingers pinch around both your nipples at once and your jaw drops. He tickles around the edges, then grabs up the full swell of your tits and squeezes. Your eyes try to flutter shut; it’s already hard to remember his instruction.

He settles into an entirely delicious rhythm, kneading your peaks, watching every crease of your brow, reading every gasp and twitch of your lip so that he can tweak at your nipples just right, until the pleasure is almost unbearable. You don’t even realize your eyes have fallen closed until his hand disappears from one of your tits and slaps at your cheek.

It’s not hard, just a slight sting, the corrective swat of a playful alpha. “Eyes,” he reminds you, then goes right back to his blissful torture.

Your core is warming almost unbearably. Every tug at your nipples is drawing a tingling line of pleasure right down between your thighs, taking the heat that had already awoken there during your spanking and fanning the flames, until the need for more is almost unbearable. “Mando,” you moan, tilting your hips forward on the crate, “please…”

A pleased little sound comes out of the modulator. “Please what?”

“Urmmm,” you moan at him, twisting your body, trying to scoot your hips a little closer to him. “I need more.”

He responds by pinching your nipples harder, just enough pain to make you gasp and curl. You pout up toward his helmet. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But you like it.” He does it again, and this time you cry out. A stabbing ache deep between your legs reminds you you’re still not getting what you want.

Fingers tickle down your belly, brushing across your inner thighs. Then they slide around behind and pinch you hard on the ass. You wail in frustration.

Mando tips his helmet closer to your face. “Tell me again how I don’t know how to be playful.”

“Fuck!” you cry through gritted teeth.

“Fuck what?”

Your hands scramble down his armored chest, aiming for his belt to just reach down and show him what you want.

“Uh uh.” He grabs your wrists before you can do more than pop the buckle on his utility belt. “Hands stay on my shoulders.”

You immediately comply, too far gone now to be contradictory. “Fuck me, Mando.”

“Oh yeah?” He straightens up a little, his posture cocky as he stands there wrapped in your naked legs. “You ready to say it?”

“I’m yours.” You don’t even hesitate. “Do whatever you want with me.”

He takes his belt the rest of the way off with one hand, lets it drop to the floor. The other hand is busy squeezing your ass, then traveling around your hip. He pushes your legs open a little wider, then his thumbs come running down your inner thighs, pulling at your labia, spreading you even more. You lean back, curling your hips up, to give him a better view.

His breath hisses out from under the helmet. “You want me to fuck this little pussy?”

“Yes,” you moan, as his thumbs stroke up and down, just around its edges.

He pulls you open wider. “You ready to be a good girl, and do exactly as I say?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Exactly,” he repeats, and a ghost of a chill runs down your spine in the midst of all this heat. He takes one of your hands from his shoulder, and turns it palm up near your mouth. “Spit.”

The thumb of his other hand is still sliding up and down next to your opening, not touching your wetness. You appreciate that he’s not about to let his dirty gloves make things unsanitary. You gather up saliva to the front of your mouth and carefully coat your first two fingers.

Mando keeps his grip on your wrist, and pushes your hand down to your entrance as soon as he’s done watching your lips and tongue work over your own fingers.

You smooth the spit over your slit, Mando’s grip still guiding you, making sure you do a thorough job lubricating yourself. His other thumb creeps down over your clit, rocking across it carefully, steadily, his helmet angling back up to watch your face.

It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open against the pleasure of that pressure, finally right where you need it. But you remember his rule. You keep your gaze locked on the beskar as your own fingers find a rhythm underneath his, the gloved hand locked around your wrist urging you to press into yourself deeper, faster, in coordination with his rolling thumb. You find yourself clutching at the back of his neck just to keep your balance as the needy pleasure explodes. “That’s it,” his voice soothes over the modulator, “get yourself ready for me.”

You’re doing more than getting ready. Even just this much touch from him is sending you straight toward a spiraling orgasm, now that all the wild pleasure built up by every slap and struggle and pinch finally has somewhere to go.

He sees it coming, the way your eyelids go tight at the effort to keep them open and looking at him. “Don’t,” he warns. “Save it.”

He stops moving his thumb, though he doesn’t release its pressure. He swirls your hand inside of yourself one last time before drawing it out, then setting it back onto his shoulder in line with the other one.

You can’t help but roll your hips against his thumb while Mando starts loosening his own clothing. You want to call him cruel when he removes that hand too, bringing it up to caress your neck, but you have no ability to talk back anymore. Especially when his fingers curl up underneath your jaw. “Now. The most important thing.” You can feel him pulling himself out of his pants, though he’s brought his body in closer and you can’t see that far with your head tilted up in his hand like this. “Don’t look down.” His fingers squeeze tighter around your jaw, the heel of his hand pressing into the top of your throat. “If you look, I’ll have to kill you.”

He could be exaggerating, just to make this hotter for you, more intense, but you remember what he said to some over-curious bitch at Karga’s tavern once. No living thing has seen me without my helmet. Apparently The Way is preserved if violators quickly become only the formerly living.

“Yes,” you say quickly, voicebox buzzing against his wrist, words mumbling together against the unrelenting pressure in his fingers, “I understand.”

A few more quick movements down where you can’t see, and then you feel something warm and thick pressing up against your core. You both moan together as he slides his head up and down your slick folds, only fumbling a little before he finds his aim. Fuck. This is what you’ve been craving. You brace yourself against the cargo crate as best you can, squeezing your legs around him to invite him in.

You think you're ready to take him, but you're not. He crushes in bigger and wider than you’re used to, and you wail up into that impassive beskar face and try in vain to remember how to relax and take a dick like this one.

His breath is catching in little straining grunts; apparently this is pretty overwhelming for him, too. When he’s halfway in he removes his guiding hand from his own shaft and returns his thumb to your clit; that helps. The more familiar pleasure of his pressure helps melt your walls into the stretch of him. “You’re so. Fucking. Tight.” His hand never wavers on your jaw as he starts to pump, in and out, getting a little bit deeper into you with every thrust, groaning a little louder with every inch he gains.

Fuck. This position has every muscle in your body straining, which is probably why it’s so hard for him to fit in, but you don’t even care because the intensity of it is everything that you’ve been craving. “Fuck—” he adjusts his grip just a fraction, so you can talk a little easier, “fuck me just how you want, Mando, I can take it.”

He groans and takes his thumb off your clit, bringing that big hand around to grab onto your hip and brace you for a wilder pace. You only bemoan the loss of his thumb for a second, because the new angle slides his cock against a wicked spot deeper inside you.

“Ahh!” you wail, and wrap your arms tighter around his neck, needing him to hold you up as he fucks up into you at an angle that destroys the precarious balance you had been maintaining on the edge of this cargo crate. His controlling grip on your neck is choking you just a little, a sensation so erotic that you can feel your impending orgasm sizzle and tighten all around his cock the more you focus on it. “Mando, I—Can I?” you pant, your face so close that your breath is fogging up the beskar.

“Yes, fucking come for me,” he orders, then presses into you harder, his grip momentarily cutting off your airway completely. A second later your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, spasming every muscle in your core, your thighs, in your silent, breathless chest, and Mando just keeps fucking you through it all.

As soon as the heel of his hand slides off your throat you’re screaming through your teeth, the sound bouncing along with his thrusts. His pace is relentless until your orgasm finally peaks, and the stiffness of your body starts to melt against him. You realize that you’ve wrapped your arms fully around his helmet, getting as close as his controlling grip on your jaw would allow.

His pace slows, but it does not stop. From the aching deep inside your belly, you know that he’s still fully hard, just giving you a brief moment to recover yourself.

You sigh into the side of his head, a long, lovely sound. Your body shivers with aftershocks around his solid shaft, keeping your pleasure brimming, not letting it fade. That hand controlling your jaw pushes you back, gently, until he can see your face again.

His grip spasms on your ass. He must like what he sees. “Close your eyes.” You do, and he starts to pull away. “Keep them closed. I’m turning you over.”

You unlock your ankles from behind his back as he draws his length out of your body, both of you gasping and shuddering as he withdraws. Your legs come down to the ground rather stiffly, and you’re glad of the way he manhandles you along, until you’re bending over the crate with your thighs pressed into its edge. You’re not sure your legs would have held you up without his help.

Mando wastes no time lining his cock back up again. You hold onto the edges of the cargo crate as he presses in eagerly. A gasp rips from your throat as your head lifts up in an involuntary bend of your back; this position lets him drive in deeper, forcing you to adjust to his size all over again.

A split second after your head comes up, Mando’s fingers squeeze through your hair at the base of your skull, using that grip to hold you steady and facing forward. You really weren’t trying to turn and look, but you suppose he can’t risk it. He keeps control of your head, pulling your hair a little in time to his thrusts, as he groans out a deep, pleasured sound. You give voice to how you’re feeling, too, letting little sobbing moans spill out in time to his insistent thrusts. He can’t see your face anymore, and you barely have the leverage to move your hips against him, so this is the only way to keep the connection.

“Oh, keep making those sounds,” Mando pants, then the modulator keeps crackling with more of his soft grunts as he plumbs your depths. “You take me so good.” When he flattens his hips against your ass it definitely hurts; he’s reached the end of you, and is trying to stretch past it, deep inside. But even that pain is erotic; you wail and submit under his praise and his smothering need.

His grunts and his thrusts both start coming faster, and just as you fear that you’re hitting your limit, that you can’t take any more, some new dimension of release and submission open up inside you, and all that suffering transforms into a pleasure so fierce that your walls are clenching and your mind is wiped by an orgasm that turns the rest of your body to jelly.

When your mind clears you find your cheek flush to the surface of the cargo crate. Mando’s hand is pressing it there, with his fingers wrapped across your eyes, and he’s groaning through his teeth as he smashes himself as deep into your body as he can get. He shudders and bucks, roaring through his orgasm, the modulator translating the sound with an almost musical edge.

When he’s done he sags partially on top of you, his belly resting on your hips while his arms keep his chestplate from digging into your back. His cock is keeping you plugged, a thick presence that makes you feel stretched even when it’s going soft. One of his hands is still resting over your eyes, but all the tension has gone out of it. You wonder if he’d feel the flicker of your eyelashes against his glove if your lids accidentally parted. You keep them closed.

He hums, fingertips running softly up your back. You wonder if he’s looking down, admiring your bare skin once again. Your entire body is thrumming, the satisfaction spreading to every muscle fiber. You know things will feel awkward soon, but for now you really don’t want to move.

Eventually Mando pulls himself gently out of you. A spurt of warm liquid follows, running thickly down your leg. Fuck, how backed up was he?

“Don’t move,” he warns, lifting his body up off of yours.

You give him a contented little murmur and stay perfectly relaxed. “Eyes still shut,” you reassure him. You’re not even annoyed at the lack of trust these constant reminders might convey. This is something he has to control strictly. Certainly it’s a great privilege that he even took the risk with you. You listen to his footsteps retreat and return, as you lay draped over the cargo crate and enjoy the bliss that is only just beginning to fade.

“You can open them now,” he says softly once he’s standing over you again. One hand slides over your ass, pausing at a spot that feels surprisingly sensitive. “I’ve given you a welt or two here.”

“Souvenir,” you grin up at him, twisting your spine while keeping your hips relaxed under his hand. “Thanks.”

Mando nods his helmet back at you. He’s got a cloth in his other hand, dampened from the fresher, and he wipes up the mess he’s left between your legs with careful, steady dabs. “I should be the one thanking you,” he says softly, maybe even a little awkwardly. “That was…”

“Overdue?” you quip, as he’s wiping all the way down to your ankle to clean up the enormous load he had for you.

“Maybe just a little.” He steps away to trade the towel for a thin, precisely-folded blanket, which he shakes out and spreads over you. You stand up in his arms as he does, guiding him to wrap it around your shoulders. You hold it tight and lean in toward him for a snug embrace. The blanket makes pressing your bare body against his armored plating much more comfortable. “Come here,” he mutters, and draws you to sit on the floor with him, leaning up against the cargo crate and each other. Even the afterglow of wild sex with the Mandalorian doesn’t make his spare ship any less uncomfortable, but you focus on the way his arm holds you tucked in tight against his body, the way you can feel him breathing against your ribs.

“That was good,” you breathe.

“Yeah.”

You lean your head tentatively against his shoulder, wondering how much intimacy he’s going to allow now. His arm shifts, helping you get more comfortable, and his thumb is dragging back and forth, idly, along the top of your thigh.

There’s one question you have to ask.

“Would you really have had to kill me, if I looked?”

He holds his breath for a moment, then lets it blow out with a soft glottal sound. “Most Mandalorians would. But honestly? To me, that wouldn’t have made a difference. Even if you didn’t live to tell the tale, my honor would still be smirched. I’d know I’d failed a central tenet, and from every day after I’d be living a lie.”

Your brow creases, and you turn to look up at him even though you can’t read his face. That was kriffing serious. “So it’s not just about the helmet.”

His beskar mask nods. “Not the way I was raised.”

You turn your gaze away, idly looking across the cargo bay. “Wow.” You’d never seen him not covered head to toe, and you never would.

“But I think…” he trails off as his hands burrow under your blanket, coming around to meet each other in front of your belly and fumbling with something. “I think this is acceptable.” His hand finds one of yours, and air rushes into your chest in a silent, measured gasp as you realize the fingers winding between yours are his, warm skin, completely bared to the wrist.

You sit together in silence for a long time, feeling the twin pulses of living palms pressed together, the small twitches of muscle and the sparkle of nerve endings when a finger softly strokes across the back of a hand. The more you imagine how much this must mean to him, the more it means to you, until your head is spinning and you can barely handle the intimacy of the kind of touch you’ve always taken simply for granted.

You’re afraid to ask what this means. This whole encounter was so unplanned; you don’t even know what you want from the Mandalorian, much less what he wants from you. Is he doing this just because of the afterglow rush of soft hormones, or does he think you and he could be something more?

And when you feel awkward, you talk. People skills, remember? You squeeze his hand and restart an old conversation. “Told you we make a good team.”

He grunts.

Maybe you should just shut up and enjoy the cuddle. But his non-answer does not help your racing mind to still. The urge to tease him starts taking over again. “You know, we’re still not done negotiating that split.”

Mando groans softly. “The only split I want to think about is how far I can split open your legs.”

A new thrill runs up your spine, but you stay on track with only a small giggle escaping your throat. “How about we round it back up to sixty percent for me, and as soon as that big dick can get hard again, I’ll throw on a blindfold and give you the best head you ever had in your life.”

Mando’s fingers card through yours, and his other hand comes up to play with your hair. “Tempting.” There’s a rumble deep in his throat that makes your aching cunt tighten. “But let’s just call it 50-50, and we can fuck all the way to Nevarro.”

Part Two here

My Mando Smut Masterlist

Taglist: @mabelleen @lokiaddicted @aethersghoulette @nolivingthingdroid @pinkmoontribe-blog @baar-ur @otherthingsinhead @biolo-tea @greendragonzz @aesikupills @of-narwhals-and-ink @doubtedbus409 @kittyatemytaco @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @space-princesssss @okilover02 @debonaire-princess @myfruitgummies @pinstripeninja13 @taman-a @mandowhoreian @cptnbvcks @funmadnessandbadassvikings @soapjay @otherthingsinhead @onebatch--twobatch @lilwickedred @mabelleen @stardancerluv @naiomiwinchester @equalstrashflavoredtrash @laketaj24 @themaskismyface @pascallorian @shadowfoxey @thatkidofwarandpeace @pokeasleepingsmaug @anniemar

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian smut #the split fic #Mando smut

4K notes · View notes