#and then century link fucked me over

[fort-no-more]

any music-related hot takes?

Mate, I started off as a radio tower illegally broadcasting music that was censored by the BBC. I only have music-related hot takes!

Our take of the day is that anyone who thinks punk must stick to a specific aesthetic is not punk, and it's almost always trying to censor even if they might say it's "preserving" it. (Spoiler: their ideas of "aesthetics" are mostly just, you know... it's saying something awful without saying it because you know how bad it sounds? What's that word again? Is it dogwhistling, or is that something else?)

Mind you, it's not as common now as it was in the 2000s, in part because people were gatekeeping against pop punk (which is a different subgenre, chrise, leave them be) and then reached even further to target actual punk groups, but there was a good chunk of time where geezers who were into the early punk scene would mock any new group for being posers, and most of the time, the people they were pitching a fit about were women, minorities, or young people (ah, yeah, hating on the youth: the most punk thing of all, apparently!) As if British punk would be what it is today without people like Poly Styrene, who basically invented the subgenre of Riot Grrl over a decade before it was recognized and fits into all the groups that are now apparently posers. She'd go on stage with a cute bow in her hair and pastel jumper and skirt and braces like she just left school picture day, then scream her head off about identity and oppression so hard that venues had to pause shows to fix the sound systems!

And - And as if punk at the time wasn't constantly toying with how people dress or sound or look, and pushing revolution, all the stuff that people get weird about nowadays. "Oi, these young wannabes don't look like The Clash!" The Clash are great, and also they would have kicked your skull in for being an elitist bigoted prick. Multiple groups can be great! Just admit you became old and boring and Tory-fied just like the parents you used to rebel against, and can't handle a genre that's - that's based on anarchy unless you can look at it through nostalgia.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Not A Joke, Not Unreality:

A company called Quantum Fiber (under Century Link) recently set up my home town for fiber optic internet. I got them a month ago and aside from a few outages it was decent.

Last week, it went out. They sent me a super specific time it would be back-

They failed to make it and sent another, minutes later.

And another when that failed.

And over the week, more and more.

I called and they just read me the same email out loud. They offered no escalation or resources. Every time, they fail. I have not had internet for my house in a week, and this morning I got this one-

I looked into other people having the same problem and found this-

Edit forgot link

That's not something called a "766" line, that's them fucking up my city 766 times. This company is fucking shit, and I'm sick of this. I've filed an FCC complaint but those take a month to even get a reply.

So I'm hoping my 173,365 followers can help make this show of their ineptitude and callousness go viral. Please.

They are in a time of massive expansion into many new states and cities. I am asking anyone so inclined with a few minutes to spare to find your town or state's government information technology office or liaison, or just a local government representative of any kind, and write them a quick note stating that this company destroys town utilities and offers absolute frustrating failures of service in return.

If you have Quantum Fiber and have been similarly failed by them, please file an FCC complaint. You might at least get a free month out of it.

If you work with a news source or popular blog, please boost this however you can.

If you are on any app on which they are present, please feel free to write or tag them and let them know they have failed their customers and cities they work with.

Please do not engage in threats or harassment of any form. Keep this legal, civil, and proper so that it can create a legal basis and record of good citizen interaction on the part of this company's victims. I am asking for help in a grassroots campaign, not a violent or prank-filled heap that just gets people in trouble. AND DO NOT FOR ANY REASON EVER PESTER THE WORKERS, PHONE REPS AND TECHNICIANS THEY HAVE OUT THERE. This is the corporation's fault, not the poor folks they employ who they likely try to make take the backlash.

If you have any other ideas on how to hold a mega-corp responsible for the shit they put their customers through, please comment and recommend. I am sick of this shit. I know there are worse things happening and even worse companies doing horrid things right now. But maybe this one is new/small enough that a viral campaign can kick them where it hurts and get them to act more responsibly to their customers and safely to the places they work.

Please help if you have time. Please spread this in the hopes they see it and get off their butts and fix their horrible shit. Any random reblog or post on any platform might be the one their investors hear of.

Thank you anyone for anything you can do.

-Ari

[harrysfolklore]

another instagram prompt with madison beer as face claim but relationship focused please!! 🥺

WELL HELLO THIS IS MY FIRST F1 BLURB 🥹 i’m kinda nervous idk why but i hope you like it! i left this open for a part two so lmk if that’s something you’d like to see

btw this is obviously inspired by taylor and joe breakup and taylor and travis lol, also harry ilysm sorry for making you the villain here, anyways, ENJOY!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | PART TWO HERE

liked by arianagrande, sabrinacarpenter and 5,028,299 others

yourinstagram THE SPINNIN TOUR STATRS IN 10 DAYS 🥲🤍 who am i seeing there??

view all 76,044 comments

ynfan1 SO FUCKING EXCITED

conangray LETS GO 🔥

ynfan2 this is going to be the biggest concert tour in history and i’m so serious

↳ ynfan1 i mean the pre sale broke ticketmaster, three stadium dates on each city sold out. it’s going to be insane

harryfan1 i can’t wait for the boyfriend harry content this tour is going to give us

ynfan3 she’s getting ready to make history

annetwist ❤️❤️❤️

harryfan2 soooo ready to see harry at the vip box on opening night and all the other nights

dualipa an angel 🤍

oliviarodrigo 💘

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 6,754 others

harryupdates Harry out in London today !

view all 309 comments

harryfan1 MY BUUUUB

ynfan1 what is he doing in london??? the spinnin tour starts today

harryfan2 HARRY GET YOUR ASS TO ARIZONA RN

ynfan2 he’s not attending opening night :(

harryfan3 what is he mad about lol

liked by charles_leclerc, sza and 6,826,239 others

yourinstagram 7th night of the spinnin tour done ! houston thank you so much for your love and your loud singing, i’m making the best memories of my life on this tour thanks to you 🤎

view all 78,203 comments

ynfan1 TOUR OF THE CENTURY

conangray this tour changed my life fr

↳ ynfan2 BEST OPENING ACT EVER

harryfan1 okay but WHEN is harry doing his spinnin tour debut

↳ ynfan1 i wonder the same thing 🤔

arianagrande 🖤

charles_leclerc I can’t wait to see the show 🙌🏻

↳ charlesfan1 CHARLES ???

↳ charlesfan2 he’s a pop girlie wbk

harryfan2 get your ass to the next show NOW

//

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1 and 109,035 others

people It’s over 💔#YN and #HarryStyles are calling it quits after six years of dating. Tap the link in our bio for the full story.

view all 25,364 comments

harryfan1 WHAT?????

ynfan1 NO WAY

harryfan2 nah i don’t believe this

ynfan2 but what about lover??? delicate ??? pov??? so american ??? golden hour ?? paper rings ?? WERE ALL THOSE SONGS NOT REAL

harryfan3 man im so confused right now, how did this happen

ynfan2 lord she must be heartbroken and she has to continue with the tour performing for 70k people every night

harryfan4 this is clearly fake

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 29,827 others

profesionalfangirlie UM HELLO I JUST MET CHARLES LECLERC AT YN’S SHOW !!???? istg i just wanted a refill for my lavender haze margarita and he was there in line too WTF ?? #thespinnintour

view all 2,927 comments

charlesfan1 NO WAY 😭😭😭

ynfan1 THIS IS SUCH A SLAY

ynfan2 yn is a celebrity to celebrities

charlesfan2 HES SUCH A FANBOY

charlesfan3 i need to see him trading friendship bracelets

charlesfan4 HOTTEST MAN ALIVE

ynfan3 he’s about to experience the best show of his life

charlesfan5 THE CONTENT WE DESERVE

ynfan3 WAS HE AT THE VIP TENT??

↳ profesionalfangirlie i think he’s up there in a suite of the stadium with family and friends

↳ charlesfan1 OHHHH

liked by charlesfan1, charlesfan2 and 9,265 others

charlesupdates “I wanted to give YN a friendship bracelet with my number on it, since I knew her shows were all about friendship bracelets. She didn’t want to meet me after the show so I took it personal. Other than that the show was completely out of this world, she’s amazing.” -Charles on attending the Spinnin Tour for Fedez podcast !

view all 828 comments

charlesfan1 OMG???

charlesfan2 THIS MAN ISTH

ynfan1 girl wtf why didn’t you want to mee him ? @yourinstagram

↳ ynfan2 i bet it was a timing thing and not her actively not wanting to meet him 🥹

charlesfan3 is he shooting his shot ???? publicly

charlesfan4 NOT CHARLES BEGGING FOR A CHANCE

ynfan3 this would be such a powerful ship… ferrari’s golden boy and the pop princess.. do you see the vision…

↳ charlesfan1 I SO DO

INSTAGRAM DMS

//

liked by charles_leclerc, jacobelordi and 6,398,002 others

yourinstagram last night of the spinnin tour in the us 🥹🥹 you can tell by my fave here that i’m going to miss these crowds every single day. THANK YOU for coming to the shows, singing every lyric and making friendship bracelets, all the memories we made together will stay with me forever 💘 LATIN AMERICA YOU’RE NEXT 🇲🇽🇦🇷🇧🇷

view all 69,026 comments

ynfan1 IM SOBBINGGGGGG

ynfan2 IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT SHOWS

arianagrande easily the best show anyone has ever put on, love you sister 🤎

theweeknd The GOAT 🐐

ynfan3 she finished her stadium tour after getting out of a 6 year long relation and being completely heartbroken. she loves her art more than anything

↳ ynfan1 she can do it with a broken heart because she’s THAT good

charles_leclerc Congratulations, excited for what’s coming next 🙌🏻

↳ charlesfan1 CHARLIE ???

↳ charlesfan2 WHATS GOING ON 😭

ynfan4 harry styles you have nothing on her

liked by ynfan1, charlesfan1 and 10,296 others

ynupdates YN AND CHARLES LECLERC OUT AND ABOUT TONIGHT !!!

view all 1,028 comments

ynfan1 HUHHHH???

ynfan2 GOOD GOD

charlesfan1 IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING

ynfan3 wow and some people clowned him when he said he wanted to give yn a bracelet with his number

harryfan1 she’s dating someone already ??? wow

↳ ynfan1 she has all the right do it especially after realizing that she wasted 6 years of her life with someone who never made any sacrifice for her

↳ charlesfan1 ntm that charles has done more in what a week??? (commenting on her posts, holding hands in public, not making her run from the paps) than harry did in 6 years

↳ harryfan2 i will always mourn ynrry

ynfan3 IM SOOO HERE FOR YNS WAG ERA

//

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 9,302,933 others

yourinstagram my first race 🏁 i had the best time with the best people🤍

view all 99,027 comments

ynfan1 OMFGGGGG

charlesfan1 the jacket ????? the bracelet ????? the last pic ????? INSANIYY

dualipa ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

ynfan2 THIS IS SO SERIOUS ALSJAKA

harryfan1 she never posted harry in their 6 years together but she posts dumps about her rebound 😭

↳ ynfan1 as if harry wasn’t an ass who never wanted their relationship to be publicly acknowledged, bffr

ynfan2 IM SO HAPPY FOR HER

charlesfan2 i lowkey love this, charles is proof that persistence is key

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳ charlesfan1 AHHHHHH

↳ charlesfan3 I CANT DO THIS

ynfan3 idk if they’re dating but it’s so good to see her proudly attending events and posting about them and not hiding to please the person she’s with

leclerc_pascale Belle 🤍

↳ charlesfan1 MAAAANNNN ITS SERIOUS

lilyhme queenie ⭐️

↳ ynfan1 told ya she was going to befriend all the wags 😭

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourinstagram and 2,038,766 others

charles_leclerc Perfect race ❤️

view all 44,827 comments

charlesfan1 LOML

ynfan1 perfect bc yn was there so true

arthur_leclerc 🙌🏻

charlesfan2 checo in the back is killing me

ynfan2 HARD LAUNCH YN ON INSTA NOW !!!

leclerc_pascale ❤️

harryfan1 you’ll never be harry

charlesfan3 i need yn on every race now

yourinstagram 😍😍😍❤️‍🔥

↳ ynfan1 HEEEEELP

↳ ynfan2 CONTROL YOURSELF

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 9,643 others

charlesupdates Charles and YN in Argentina today !! YN has a show there tomorrow, we love a supportive boyfriend 🥺

view all 997 comments

charlesfan1 OMFGGGG

charlesfan2 WE STAN THIS

ynfan1 maannn this is what she deserves, someone who's willing to travel across the globe to support her

↳ ynfan2 i can't believe harry just went to ONE show of the positions tour and we used to think that was the most romantic thing ever

charlesfan3 I KNEWWWW he would be at every show once her tour started again

ynfan3 I CANT WAIT FOR ALL THE CONTENT

charlesfan4 we need a charles cam at the spinnin tour crowd

liked by ynfan1, charlesfan1 and 14,382 others

ynupdates YN JUST CHANGED THE KARMA BRIDGE TO "KARMA IS THE GUY ON THE PITS COMING STRAIGHT HOME TO ME"

view all 1,005 comments

ynfan1 WTFFFF

ynfan2 SHES INSANE 😭

charlesfan1 LORD PLEASE HELP ME

ynfan3 she's so silly. she's also deranged

charlesfan2 what a time to be alive

charlesfan3 MAN I CANT STOP WATCHING THE VIDEO OF CHARLES REACTION

ynfan4 FRUIT BOY YOURE SO OVERRRRR

liked by carlossainz55, yourinstagram and 4,973,229 others

charles_leclerc The Spinnin Tour🤍

view all 66,044 comments

charlesfan1 GOING INSANE

ynfan1 OMG BABYYYYY

leclerc_pascale 💕❤️

ynfan2 FINALLY SOMEONE WHO POSTS ABOUT HER !! AND ATTENDS HER SHOWS !! AND IS SUPPORTIVE !!

charlesfan2 this boy is down BAD

carlossainz55 🙌🏻

ynfan3 i cant believe some people still want her old relationship when we have THIS

charlesfan3 charlie's popstar boyfriend era

yourinstagram thank you for being here 🥺

↳ ynfan1 SHE DESERVES THIS AND MORE

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 29,265 others

thepopbuzz YN and Charles Leclerc spotted on a yatch in the Bahamas, the couple seems to be enjoying their days off before they have to go back to touring and racing respectively. Tap the link in our bio for more details 👌

view all 6,022 comments

charlesfan1 AHHHHHHHHH

ynfan1 i love one fairytale couple

harryfan1 trying to rewrite history i see

ynfan2 WE STAN

charlesfan2 that should be me

ynfan3 finally a boyfriend who likes pda

charlesfan3 I LOVE THEM SO BAD

liked by yourinstagram, arthur_leclerc and 4,027,119 others

charles_leclerc I wanted to take pictures of my girl but she beat me to it

A much needed break

view all 58,266 comments

charlesfan1 STOP THIS

ynfan1 IM SPIRALING

carlossainz55 Enjoy mates 🙌🏻

lilyhme cuties 💓

charlesfan2 THE BOYFRIEND CONTENT I SIGNED UP FOR

ynfan2 HIS 🥹 GIRL 🥹

yourinstagram lover booooy ❤️

↳ ynfan3 AHHHH MY HEART

charlesfan3 we love simp charlieeee

ynfan4 i can’t stress how happy this makes me. from running to get in a van to this

liked by arianagrande, charles_leclerc and 10,278,683 others

yourinstagram SURPRISE !! my new album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT is coming soon 🤍

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND POETRY

view all 102,826 comments

ynfan1 KAHAIAJAYAABAJAI

ynfan2 WHAT ON EARTH

oliviarodrigo NO WAY ‼️‼️‼️

conangray thank you mother for constantly serving

ynfan3 THE COVER ??? THE NAME ?? THAT LYRIC ??? we’re not ready

charlesfan1 oooohhhh this is exciting

ynfan4 and fruit boy better HIDE

dualipa 🖤🖤🖤🖤

postmalone 🙌🏻

charles_leclerc So proud of you ❤️

↳ charlesfan2 AWEEEEEEES

↳ charlesfan3 i know they just started dating but i hope we get songs about him

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ��

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

.

.

Part 2

.

.

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[myownwholewildworld]

THE WAY TO A GREAT WIDE SOMEWHERE

↪ a the mandalorian x beauty & the beast crossover

main masterlist | read on ao3 | easter eggs pairing: beast!din djarin x f!reader. summary: cursed to spend the rest of his days in Mand'alor, Din Djarin faces a threat that may break his peace: you. -or- a retelling of the beauty and the beast story. a/n: HAHAHA *manic laugh* HI! this has been a long time coming now. first and foremost, i'll start by saying that this whole brainrot was inspired by this beautiful moodboard by the very talented @almostfoxglove, please go see it because it's the main reason i wrote this fic. i have gone crazy trying to link both worlds so i hope some of you see/understand the easter eggs. feel free to come screech at me if you like it because i have been screaming into the abyss for weeks now. love you all, take care! <3 x warnings/tags (beware spoilers): 18+, mdni. set after the events of S2. grogu is BRIEFLY mentioned. if you're a SW purist, this ain't your fic, my friend. the stockholm syndrome is stockholming. beast!din. a fair bit of smut (you know all the usual warnings). sensory deprivation. kinda dom!din. monster fucking (this is a BATB crossover after all, sorry). death of a secondary character. reader is a blank slate. alternating pov. no use of y/n. italics means it's spoken in mando'a OR it's the beast's pov 👀 THIS IS THE WAY. w/c: ~24.3k. (HAHA SORRY) divider by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end 💖

11 ABY

“Take it with you. Don’t let anyone hav―” your father choked on his last words, a chesty cough wreaking havoc in his damp, bloody lungs. “It’ll take you to where you need to go. Find it. And destroy it,” he muttered as his grey eyes, crowned by bushy, white brows, bore into yours.

In your hands you held the device that had been passed down every generation in your family. It had been commissioned by Tarre Vizsla himself over a thousand years ago when he created the Darksaber ― a Pillio star compass to find not a physical location but his most valuable possession. For almost a millennium, your family had been the guardians of it.

And for as many centuries, your Jedi ancestors had been looking for the Darksaber after they had stolen the star compass from Vizsla. That Jedi blood was far too diluted now, just a remnant of what your family once was since none of you seemed to be Force sensitive. But the mission remained despite the passing of time, not so much the reason behind it.

Since your birth, this was all you knew: the thrill of the chase. Never settling down anywhere, never creating bonds with anyone outside of your tribe. You all were wanderers ― nomads who made home of no world. You knew no other life. It was what it was.

The Jedi star compass fit perfectly on the palm of your hand ― it was circular and slightly bigger than a locket. This one though was different, special even, because it was made of beskar, a metal alloy from Mandalore.

Your fingers caressed the lid, tracing the astromeridian lines with the tips, feeling each groove. Undoing the aurodium clasp, you opened the compass to find a plasma-encased supraluminite lodestone, perfectly centred. The plasma in this specific one, however, was not of a shimmering blue, but a deep, stagnant black. Its magnetism was so strong it buzzed, emitting a low vibrating noise.

You tapped the stone with your thumb, and the vibration pierced through your flesh and bone, travelling up your forearm and dissipating into your body before it reached your chest. You quickly removed your thumb, taken aback by the intensity of it all, eyes slightly widened.

“But father, you heard them. It’s already been destroyed. It’s over,” you whispered, tears trespassing the waterline of your tired eyes.

“They lie. Never trust one of them. Those power-thirsty ra―,” he coughed, pressing the wound that stained his clothing to stop the bleeding. You covered his hand with one of yours, the other still holding the compass. “I know we were close, we had to be. Promise me you’ll keep looking.”

“I promise, father,” you hushed, repressing the sob that threatened to tear your throat.

You laced your hand with his, unbothered by the blood, as you watched his eyes become dull, opaque and dead. His lungs exhaled the last breath while the grip of his hand on yours loosened.

You remained there for a few minutes, pain and grief gnawing at you, knelt by his deathbed, tinkering with the Pillio star compass. With your mother taken from you at childbirth and now your father perishing to an enemy, you had no blood relatives left. You were alone, stripped from the comfort of family.

You still had your tribe, but your connection to them was circumstantial. You grew up in their midst, but always felt like an outsider, a misfit who people felt forced to interact with because you were “the daughter of.”

It didn’t matter anyway.

You might not have known why your family kept on looking for the Darksaber, but now you knew why you had to search for it. It was your father’s last wish and that was enough reason for you.

“We must go,” Ashton’s voice reached your ears, but not your brain.

When you didn’t respond, he slowly approached you, kneeling by your side.

“Hey, I know this is hard, but we are really running out of time,” his firm arm wrapped around your waist to help you stand up.

Your knees trembled like a newborn qartuum but managed to stay upright on the soles of your feet. Taking a deep breath, you nodded.

“We need to leave Nevarro. It’s just a matter of time until our covert is discovered. They’ll come looking for him,” your head tilted in your father’s direction, voice flat and emotionless now. Stretching your back, you put distance between you and Ashton. “You find somewhere safe in the Outer Rim to lay low for a while. I need to see this done once and for all.”

“This what, exactly? You heard the same thing I did. Gideon crushed it. It’s over. We can finally live our own lives, find a home, settle down,” he muttered, a gloved hand looking for yours yet not finding it. He sounded so hopeful.

“I know what we heard. But my father… he thinks― thought it may be a ruse. I have to try, Ash. I can’t just leave this life behind, as if everything I’ve done has meant absolutely nothing,” you replied between gritted teeth, frustrated.

“Don’t waste any more years of your life on a wild goose chase, please. Let’s go back to the others. We can―” his hand finally found yours, lacing your fingers.

You looked down at your intertwined hands. It just felt odd, out of place even. Ashton was nothing more than a brother in arms to you.

You shook your head no, pulling your hand from his, breaking the contact, and looked at him directly in the eyes.

“No, Ash. There’s no “we” here. You do what you must, and so will I, simple as,” you rejected the unspoken offer, seeing the hurt consuming his blue eyes.

“What makes you think you can do this alone? Thousands of people have tried for centuries,” he quickly tried a different tactic, but his reproach unfazed you. “Let me come with you at least.”

“No. Our people need you to lead them into this new lifestyle, Ashton,” you refused, not even giving his proposal a second thought. “And you just made it clear, this is not the life you want, but it’s the one I do. Now go.”

Ashton pressed his lips together in frustration, gobsmacked by your bluntness. He’ll be fine, he’ll recover, you thought to yourself when you saw the pain of your rejection finally dawning on him.

“Have it your way then,” and with that, he left.

The compass weighed heavy on your hand and in your heart. But you couldn’t afford distractions nor being delayed by people. Not this time.

19 ABY

Weeks turned into months. And months into years. Eight, to be exact.

The passage of time was unfaltering, but so was your determination. Despite the many dead ends, the several disappointments and the near misses, you never stopped looking for the Darksaber.

There were days, however, that it all felt like an impossible task, that you truly believed that Moff Gideon had destroyed it. You couldn’t accept it though, not when you had spent eight more years hunting it down. It still had to exist. Right?

It was hard keeping the spirits up with no company to hear you vent your frustration. You had started talking out loud to yourself, your voice bouncing off the metal walls of your spacecraft.

Some days you regretted rejecting Ashton’s offer. The man had been nothing but kind to you, loyal too. You had your suspicions about his true intentions, but you never really saw him as anything more than a friend. You hoped that after all this time, he would have found someone who reciprocated him. Ash was a good man and deserved better than what you could have offered him. What you both wanted were two completely different things, incompatible ― he wanted a quiet life, you had preferred an adventurous one.

Given the same option today, however, you were not so sure of what you would have chosen.

Toying with the star compass, you looked through the windshield of the cockpit. Jumping through hyperspace at the speed of light always put you at ease ― the flashing of light as you passed through it left a rainbow of blue hues. The static noise was so calming, you relaxed into your seat.

Your attention returned to the device on your hand. Opening it again, you eagerly watched the metal semicircle twinkle, reflecting off the colours from the Hydian Way. It had not moved for a while, so you had set the course in the direction it pointed towards.

Unsure of the way it was taking you to, you had learnt to just let it take you where it pleased. Like a bantha following its herd on the vast, arid lands of Tatooine, your life for the past eight years had been reduced to following the hands of the star compass, and nothing else. And now, like every single time before, you would wind up in the middle of the great wide somewhere. Or nowhere.

Even if your eyes hadn’t been lazily transfixed on the lodestone, you could not have missed the louder buzzing it was emitting. You rapidly sat up on your seat, your thumb hovering over the stone while your heart jolted up to your throat. As the humming increased, the black plasma inside swirled and radiated a white, shimmering glow.

Only once had you seen it do something like that before, right before finding out that the Darksaber was supposedly destroyed by Gideon. You thought yourself so close to your objective in a stroke of sheer luck, you all had rushed towards the direction it marked and found absolutely nothing.

With blood drumming in your eardrums and heartrate spiking, you faced the panel of your starfighter and touched a few buttons in a trained dance of movements. Then you pulled a lever, and a sudden jerking motion stopped the spaceship on its tracks, easing out of hyperspace.

Back flattened against the back of your padded seat, you squinted your eyes to see where you were. It took you a good moment to recognise the worlds in front of you. But that couldn’t be, made no sense at all. Furrowing your brows, you looked down at the scope in front of you.

No, you were not mistaken. That was Mandalore and one of its moons, Concordia. The compass was vibrating so loud now, you had to close the lid to contain it. Did a double take on the scope, then back out to space.

You knew the story of what had happened here fifteen years ago ― Mandalore had become uninhabitable after the Night of the Thousand Tears. The Empire had made sure of it by brute force and unfair use of fusion bombs and rays, which reportedly left the surface of the planet crystallised and its atmosphere poisoned. No one who had ventured had ever returned, or so the legend went.

The compass hummed louder, still pressed between your hands, as if compelling you to decide, and to do it now. It couldn’t be that the Darksaber had found its way back to its homeworld. It completely defied common sense, the laws of space itself.

Concordia, on the other hand, was more promising, you thought. The best choice out of the worst possible options. Safest too. Probably.

Setting course towards the moon, the spacecraft slowly trudged forward. A loud sputtering sound coming from the thrusters almost made you jump, quickly followed by the incessant beeping sound of an alarm.

“Thrusters stabilizers compromised. Negative power couplers overheating,” the robotic, monotonous voice advised you.

Then your astromech droid, a yellow trimmed R3-D3 unit, started screeching so loud through your headset, you had to remove them.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, taking complete manual control of the helm.

If the couplers didn’t cool down, you only had minutes until these completely overheated, causing an explosion.

Weighing your options, you let go of an expletive. Mandalore was closer, but you feared that the moment you entered its atmosphere, your starfighter, and you inside it, would combust to death. Concordia was further, which meant the possibility of exploding before reaching it was very high.

You were fucked either way. Both were evils, none the lesser.

“Alor (boss), something has entered the atmosphere,” Nau’ul, his protocol droid, announced in perfect Mando’a, with a metal finger pointing out the window.

Din’s brows knitted together, not that anyone could see with his helmet on. His attention drifted to the direction Nau’ul was indicating. The wrinkles between his eyes pronounced as his head tilted.

A small spaceship had breached the atmosphere of Mand’alor, appearing through the greyish clouds with a burning tail following it as it rapidly plummeted towards the surface, leaving a smoky halo behind.

With muscles tensed, Din got up from the chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, trying to catch a better glimpse of the type of aircraft that dared to break his peace.

It couldn’t be the New Republic, and he hoped to hell it wasn’t an Imperial ship either. Everyone thought Mand’alor was a thing of the past, a barren planet harbouring no life.

He had thought so too before finding himself adrift in space, injured within inches of his own death. Crippled as he was, his Razor Crest survived the bumpy ride and even bumpier landing, all thanks to the droids aboard. The same droids that had managed to nurse him back to health. Or, close to, anyway.

Through the visor of his damaged helmet, Din eagerly saw the spaceship disappear between the dense foliage and slab stones, nearby the Mines. He waited and hoped to see a column of dense smoke towering above the vegetation, but that vision never materialised. There had been no crash, at least not a major one. Which meant that, whoever was commandeering the ship, had probably survived.

“Fuck. Where’s Mrs. Kri’gee?” he turned around to face Nau’ul.

The protocol droid lifted his arms above his head, running towards the door, panicking.

“Mrs. Kri’gee! Mrs. Kri’gee! Where are you? You’re urgently needed! Report immediately!” the high pitch tone of his robotic voice almost pierced his eardrum.

Din stuck a gloved fingertip in his ear canal and wiggled it to ease the pressure building up in there. Nau’ul was too dramatic and too loud for being a mere droid.

He had not even turned the corner into the main hallway of his decrepit abode, that Mrs. Kri’gee appeared in front of them. Nau’ul got the jumpscare of his life, one of his hands landing on the metal breast piece where a heart should be had he been truly human.

“Mrs. Kri’gee reporting, jatne vod (sir),” replied the IG-series assassin droid, one of her hands flying to her temple to salute him. “How can I be of service?”

“We seem to have visitors. Follow me, gedet’ye (please),” and with no further ado, Din walked almost blindly through the maze of corridors, then down the lift, until the cold breeze greeted him.

The temperature outside was almost freezing, especially in winter. This winter was chillier than usual too, so Din and his droids only came out when it was strictly necessary. Even after all this time, it still surprised him how glacial it was out there. With not even a tiny patch of skin uncovered, Din could still feel the biting cold clinging onto his beskar armour, seeping in through the smallest nook it could find. It could clutch around the bones easily, freezing you in place in a matter of minutes.

Not that he could tell the difference anyway, considering how fucking cold he felt under his skin. How icy it was inside of him, a never-ending snowstorm waging war on his numb heart.

Perhaps he shouldn’t hurry ― if he slowed down enough, and with a bit of luck, the unwanted guests might perish to the unforgiving cold of wintery Mand’alor.

With Mrs. Kri’gee on his heels, Din moved through the terrain as if he was one with it. After many years, he knew the topography as if it was the palm of his hand. Where he could step and where he couldn’t. What paths to avoid at specific times, and which ones were safe to hike, always mindful of the creatures who had withstood the Great Purge.

He might not have many things, but free time was definitely one of them, which allowed him to explore this world he had called home for the last eight years. There weren’t many pastimes in Mand’alor when he was the only human inhabiting it. Maybe that was why he had renamed the droids with more human-like names, to feel less lonely ― only if he could truly feel something.

The emptiness within him had only grown with every passing year on the planet. The curse that ran through his veins had slowly overtaken him, leaving an ever-growing void in his chest. Din could not remember the last time he felt anything ― joy, contempt, happiness, anger, hope, despair. Nothing.

He was an empty carcass, a non-sentient monster merely existing. Sometimes he wondered what the point of it all was, not because of an emotional response but because of pure boredom. But then his eyes would fall on the source of his misfortune, a brutal reminder of how he came to be where he stood, and the lingering questions would vanish. This was the way, his way.

And if that wasn’t enough, he also had to deal with the other side of the coin.

Din trudged along the faded path, now overridden by vegetation, to the Mines. His magnetised boots helped him find his footing more than once, sharp and loose rocks making it difficult to remain vertical. Mrs. Kri’gee, on the other hand, had no issues whatsoever.

Fifteen minutes later, they reached their destination near the Mines, close to a cliff. The lush bushes and thick trees blocked the sight at first, but Din found the perfect spot to stalk the unwelcomed visitors. Down on his knees and through a gap between the leaves, he made out the shape of a T-65B X-wing starfighter ― a pretty old one, at least twenty years old. It could have well served during the Galactic Civil War.

The starfighter could only carry the pilot and an astromech droid, which meant he only had to deal with one sentient being. Could have been worse, Din thought. The prospect of being found didn’t sit well with him though, unsure of why this person had found themselves stranded in Mand’alor, out of all the fucking planets in the Outer Rim.

The Mandalorian tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the person on the other side of the ship ― they were sat on a flat rock with their back towards him, knees propped up, elbows placed on them and crouched forwards. Din stuck his head out just enough to look over their shoulder, good eye squinting ― there was an astromech droid lying in front of them. By the looks of it, it had been fried to death, still sparkling and smoking a little.

Mrs. Kri’gee laid low behind him, still but ready to accept a command. Din waved a couple of signs to the IG-series assassin droid, and it moved silently, gracefully as a loth-cat, to reposition itself northwards, facing the target.

The Mandalorian kept his fist closed, indicating Mrs. Kri’gee to wait, when he saw the person standing up, removing their helmet and taking in a deep, exaggerated breath. It was the side profile of a woman in a bright orange spacesuit, human as far as he could tell. Din’s eyebrows furrowed under the visor, confused as to what could possibly have guided her to this inhospitable planet.

Perhaps he had been alone for too long, only the droids keeping him company for almost a decade, but the sight of you unsettled him. Had he been able to feel something, he was sure an uncomfortable weight would have grounded his stomach.

Kaysh cuyi mesh’la (she is beautiful), he thought ― a simple, objective observation a man could make with only half a vision.

Your hair shined even when the sky was gloomy; your big, bright eyes sparked with frustration; your plump lips fell into a flat line before smacking them with disapproval at your wasted andromech droid. Your fingers curled into your hips while one of your feet tapped the crystallised ground underneath nervously.

“Well, I’m not dead yet, so I guess the air is breathable,” you talked to yourself out loud, sounding almost disappointed. “Stinks like a swamp though, ugh.”

That was a good observation from your part. Stupid, but good. What was your plan if it wasn’t? Suffocating to death? Bit reckless if you asked him. And yes, the sulfuric smell coming off a bog nearby was not great, but there were worse places in Mand’alor to find yourself in. He knew damn well.

He eyed you for a little longer, Mrs. Kri’gee lying in wait. He didn’t need to kill you yet, first he needed to find out why you were here and if you were part of a larger group ― if there was a remote possibility of someone looking for you, he had to know.

Din signalled to Mrs. Kri’gee to come out of hiding but to not attack yet. And so she did promptly. The droid walked out in front of you, startling you so bad you almost fell backwards.

“Identify yourself,” his droid asked you.

You snorted, hand slowly moving backwards towards the blaster pistol in your holster.

“You identify yourself, you little piece of― metal,” you bit your tongue back.

“Nicknamed Mrs. Kri’gee by my Alor. IG-11 assassin droid. Serial Number 730X21G. Manufactured by Holowan Mechanicals in 1 ABY. First assigned to―”

“Alright, alright. Whatever,” you scoffed, fingers curling around the grip of your gun. “What is a droid like you doing here anyway?”

While you were distracted chatting to Mrs. Kri’gee, Din had come out of his hiding place, heavy boulder on hand. Stealthy as a predator, he raised his arm above your head and smashed the rock against your skull with no hesitation at all.

You plummeted to the ground instantly, rendered unconscious in a split second. Towering above you, Din walked around your body and crouched down in front of you. His gloved fingers moved a few strands of silky hair out of the way, following the tiny stream of blood dripping down your temple. The wound wasn’t too bad ― he was sure you’d survive the blow.

“Pick her up,” he commanded the droid, who willingly complied.

In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Kri’gee was carrying you over the shoulder, as if you were a light sack full of gloomroots.

What a banging headache. You were barely able to string two thoughts together.

Eyelids heavy, you did your best to open your eyes. It took you a couple of attempts, but you finally got there. Vision still burry, your pupils widened to adapt to the darkness surrounding you.

The room you were in was all rough, square edges. It reminded you od the inside of a spacecraft with all those panels on the walls. Here though, the cables were hanging out of the electrical panels, snapped and peeled. The scarce futuristic, metal furniture dotted around was broken and upside down everywhere ― the whole space was derelict, abandoned.

It has to be, because this is Mandalore, you suddenly remembered where you were before you lost consciousness. And how did you faint, anyway? How did you get here? Was it the freaking droid?

With a pitiful groan, you tried to reach the back of your head, where the pain was radiating from. To your dismay, your hand didn’t budge one inch. Confused, you looked down and around you, only to find a sturdy syntherope tethering you to the chair you were sitting on.

“What the varp!” You exclaimed, fighting the fetters to no avail.

You rubbed your hands together in the hopes to loosen the grip and slide one hand out, but whoever bound you, had tightened the rope really well. Did that stop you though? No, not one bit. You tried and tried and tried until the skin on your wrists was raw.

You were in the middle of attempting to break free when the creaking noise of the door made you still in place, half hoping to see the assassin droid.

Instead, a Mandalorian walked into the room, and you immediately ceased your endeavours. With a droid you could deal, but with a sentient being… and even worse, a Mandalorian out of all the fucking possibilities.

By the shape of his armour and predatory gait, you could tell he was a man, around five feet twelve. He wore a black body stocking covered by different metal pieces ― vambraces, shoulder pauldrons, breastplate, thigh and shin guards, and kneepads were all made of unaltered beskar. The shiny patina indicated that the alloy had been polished but not painted, as most Mandalorians would have them.

But what struck you as odd was his helmet. Manufactured with the same polished beskar, a black visor protecting his eyesight, you noticed the big crack that ran diagonally from the bottom left, all the way to his right temple. The transparisteel of the visor had also been damaged. It all had been welded back together, albeit by a novice hand.

You stiffened your back as he approached without exchanging one word. Your gaze followed his every movement, wary of the man in front of you. Your tribe instilled on all its members a gut-churning hatred for Mandalorians, although such strong feeling never really deepened within you.

Always mouthing your curiosity, your constant questions as a child were never well received by your tutors. Even your father had a hard time convincing you to hate someone irrationally. It just wasn’t in your nature to hate for the sake of it.

However, the Mandalorian in front of you… well, that was a slightly different story. The bastard had kidnapped you and had the guts to stop in front of you, arms folded, and head tilted. As if you just happened to be there, disturbing his peace.

“Release me now,” you demanded, narrowing your eyes as you leaned forward on your chair. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

A stony silence ensued, leaving you wondering if he was mute.

“Why are you here?” His voice was distorted by the speech scrambler integrated in his helmet.

Repressing a taunting jeer, you stared him right in his eyes ― where you assumed they were, anyway. When he didn’t respond, your eyebrows scowled.

“Are you, like, for real, man?” You couldn’t hide your incredulity. “It’s obvious I don’t want to be here. I didn’t mean to land on this forsaken planet. For all I knew I was about to die, I thought it was uninhabitable! I actually meant to go to Condordia―”

“Why would you go to Concordia? You’re not Mandalorian. Obviously,” he interrupted you, his hand waving up and down in front of you almost scornfully, pointing out your plain clothing.

“I― Well, that’s none of your business, actually. Look― Sorry, what’s your name? I didn’t catch it before you kidnapped me,” you asked with a pinch of rancour tarnishing your voice.

“I haven’t kidnapped you,” he quickly replied defensively. “Just Mando.”

“Okay, Just Mando. Look, you let me go and we both can pretend none of this ever happened. I go on my merry way and you― well, you stay here, doing whatever it is you do,” coming to think of it, you also had questions. You cocked your head, “What are you doing here anyway? When did Mandalore’s atmosphere become breathable again? I thought the planet was completely ruined after the Great Purge.”

“For considering yourself a hostage, you sure ask too many questions. And it’s none of your business, actually,” he snapped back throwing your own words at you with a snarky edge to his voice. “You and the whole universe think Mand’alor is unliveable, and it will remain like that for as long as I live, at least,” his tone turned sombre. “You ain’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”

His last words shocked you. What did he mean you were not going anywhere? Of course you were. You couldn’t stay here; you had a mission to complete. And Just Mando didn’t seem to be the best company either, the man was so dispassionate you were sure he had a pole up his ass.

“Wait, wait, hold on one varping second. Let’s not rush into making stupid decisions, shall we? I get it, you want to be left alone for all eternity, don’t want anyone to disturb you. I won’t tell a soul you’re here, I give you my word,” you stumbled over your words, panicking at the perspective of not leaving this planet. “Please, I can’t― There are people looking for me,” you lied.

You had not been in touch with your tribe for weeks now. And by tribe, you meant Ash. He was the only one you had been communicating with over the last eight years. Life had been hectic, and you were never the best at keeping in touch.

“Then I’ll kill them if they come looking,” he shrugged, matter-of-factly.

“Wow, okay. Calm down. No need to threaten my people,” you tried to diffuse the situation, although Just Mando seemed pretty calm.

“And just so you know, I’ve just come back from where you landed. I’ve destroyed your engine and the navigation console, so you ain’t going nowhere,” he unfolded his arms, lacing his gloved fingers on his back, quite the measured gesture.

You glanced up at him incredulous, mouth agape while your lungs emptied. You were stranded here, forever, with him. The magnitude of his words had still not dawned on you, when a faster thought made its way through to the surface.

The star compass. Had he found it? Had he destroyed it too? Not that it would be useful here, but it was the last memento you had of your late father. Not that you could ask, anyway.

“Why… why would you do that?” Your trembling voice almost gave way to desperation as you leaned back against the chair.

You blinked fast to tame your feelings, all bravado leaving your body soft and boneless. For once you were speechless, your eyes searching for his under the damaged visor. But you only saw your reflection on the transparisteel, his pose not budging at all.

“Please, Mando. Tell me you’re lying. Tell me my X-wing was not the only way out of this forlorn planet?” You begged, a dense knot forming in your throat, collapsing your airway.

“It is. It was,” he corrected himself. “I can’t let you leave. I don’t trust you nor your word. This way, I make sure you have no other option than staying here for as long as you live. Death is the only way out of here.”

You deflated on the chair, looking at him in disbelief, almost unable to breathe. Although his voice was warped by the modulator, there was no emotion in it. He spoke as if talking about the damn weather, not like he had just clipped your wings forever ― literally.

“I― What… Why are you behaving like a fucking monster? Don’t you have feelings?” There was no edge to your question, you were past subtleties now.

He shrugged again, unbothered.

“‘Cause I am. And I don’t,” was his cryptic answer before turning on his heels and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The door slammed behind him a bit too forcefully for his liking ― a reminder that he would need to ask Ca’nara to grease the hinges. Din then put the latch down to ensure the door could not be opened from the inside.

Without another thought in his mind, he turned around and almost crashed into Nau’ul.

“Master?” asked the protocol droid, dubious, one finger lifted in the air to draw his attention.

“What?” he replied, exasperated. Din just wanted a moment alone ― that conversation had burnt the last energy he had reserved for socialising. If it wasn’t because he could harbour no feelings, one could say he was socially drained already.

“Since the girl is going to be with us for quite some time, I was thinking that you might want to offer her a more comfortable room…” Nau’ul suggested.

The damn droid was more human than he was. Din had not even thought about moving you a different place within his derelict fortress. He had made the once royal prison his home, suspended off the ceiling of Sundari’s bio-dome, or what remained of it. A suitable place for a worthy character like him.

Din just stared at him, weighing his words. Did he have to care about the needs of his captive? She’s not my captive, just a… lifelong visitor, he quickly corrected himself.

“Then again, maybe not,” Nau’ul quickly retracted, dropping his hand to one side, mistaking his silence.

Fuck, I should have thought that, not the droid, he almost reprimanded himself. After so many years in his self-imposed exile, Din had really lost all touch with his humanity. Solitude, along with the curse that plagued his veins, were to blame.

With a grunt, he turned on his heels, unbolted the door and walked right back in, coming to a halt behind you with just a few strides.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a small voice, sniffling.

You had been crying and were now trying to hide it, show him you were unbreakable. He should have felt like a dick but didn’t. Couldn’t, really.

He knelt behind you and removed his vibro-knife from one of his pockets. The blade hummed, vibrating, when it got activated and Din cut you loose, restoring the blood flow to your hands.

“I’ll show you to your room,” was his only explanation to your question.

“My room? But I thought…” the doubt in your words slightly angered him. A fleeting feeling.

Anger? That’s new, he thought, eyebrows momentarily furrowing under the helmet.

“You wanna― you wanna stay here?” he muttered, teeth almost gritting.

“No,” you hushed, wide eyes looking up at him when he walked around the chair to face you.

Unsettling.

“Then follow me.”

Turning on his heels, Din made his way to the door, hoping you would follow. And you did, possibly because you had nowhere else to go.

The royal prison was a cross-shaped structure with several floors. Most of it was completely abandoned, except for the last two levels where he had accommodated himself in this senseless life he lived. The height gave him vantage point, with a good view of the surrounding buildings and further afield.

If it was for him, he would live between wreckage and filth, but his droids had made it their purpose to make the prison somewhat liveable. Not that he cared.

Din looked over his shoulder for one second to see you rub your wrists, eyes focused on the floor. Red lines were imprinted on your skin and for a brief second, he wondered if he had secured the syntherope a bit too tight.

Oh well.

He walked you all the way through a maze of corridors until you reached an elevator which was already waiting to take you up. Din stepped in and then to a side ― it wasn’t too big, but there was enough room for the both of you without having to invade each other’s personal space. You reluctantly followed.

The minutes dragged; the silence heavy although he did not find it unbearable. By the way you fidgeted with your fingers, he knew you did. Despite your discomfort, Mando did not open his mouth ― better getting used to it now, he didn’t want you to think he was the talkative type.

Then a ding announced your arrival to the top floor, and you almost let go of a relieved sigh. Din glanced at you sideways but didn’t catch much of your expression ― you were on his righthand side, and his right eye was completely blind.

The floor was well illuminated, clean and free of debris. It was well looked after, pristine almost. The corridors were empty, giving the whole place a very diaphanous appearance. As you walked by his side, he pointed out a few rooms you might want to make use of.

Arriving at an intersection, Din took the east corridor, ignoring the opposite one deliberately.

“What’s on that corridor?” you asked curiously.

You were too damn perceptive. Too perceptive for your own good.

“The west wing is forbidden,” he grunted abruptly, a growl even, stopping in his tracks to face you. “Forbidden,” he repeated slowly so the words, and the threat in his modulated voice, would sink in.

His reaction took you aback, but he could see you subduing your fear. You would not let him see it ― how scared you really were. You might not want to show it, but he could sense it.

The thought of you sniffing around the west corridor should make him panic, but his reaction was a mechanical one ― once upon a time, he would have cared excessively, worryingly even, if you discovered what he was hiding. Now, however, it wasn’t that he didn’t care but couldn’t.

The reason behind it, the reason why his emotions had become sterile and why a beast lurked beneath his skin, was stashed away in the west wing.

And it was his life mission to prevent anyone from finding it.

When Just Mando opened the door to your new cell, you were pleasantly surprised to discover it was an actual bedroom. The walls were still polished stainless steel slabs, so it wasn’t the coziest place ever, but it had a double bed with fresh linen, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a chest and one single chair. Everything was immaculate white, not one speck of dust in sight. There was another door that you assumed would lead to an ensuite bathroom.

You entered the small room and walked towards the bed. Opened the drawers of the furniture not really hoping for anything, so your eyebrows furrowed when you discovered they were packed full with clothes. Weird, but good.

With a little jump you sat down on the bed, testing its springs and overall comfortability. It was strikingly soft and smooth like a cloud, beckoning you to lie flat on your back and drift away to your dreams. You were not expecting that ― seeing how the rest of this floor was decorated (it wasn’t), you thought there would be one single spartan bed which would be hard as ironstone.

You were even amazed to see a floor-to-ceiling window. An actual, big, massive window that faced the outside world. And there were no metal bars covering it. Incredible, really, that he would trust you with one. Not that you were planning to escape, considering how desolate the planet was ― where could you go? Nowhere.

Looking up, you saw Just Mando leaning against the doorframe, arms folded while his biceps flexed against the fabric of his body stocking. He had been watching you the whole time you were inspecting the room.

Suddenly you felt the weight of his eyes on you and that made you feel skittish. You couldn’t see them, but you knew his sight would be intense, drilling and thrilling. What did he look like under that helmet? Would his expression be as impassible as his tone? Did he really not care at all or was that a façade he could afford because you couldn’t dissect his face?

“So… can I come out of my room? Or are you going to lock it too?” you asked tentatively, hands laced on your lap, challenging him with the soft curve of your raised eyebrow.

“It’ll stay locked until I know you can be trusted with freedom,” he straightened his back, hand on the doorknob.

“You call this freedom? Wow, okay,” you paused, letting that spoken thought sink in. “Is it because I asked about that corridor?”

Just Mando stilled under the doorframe, head cocked. Unknowingly, you bit your bottom lip, your teeth massaging the plump pillow underneath.

He didn’t answer.

You had had enough years of silence, the quietness of your cockpit being your only companion. Only broken by the fleeting moments when you met civilisation, you had unintentionally craved that connection. You just hadn’t realised it until you were faced with the possibility of being accompanied by someone for the rest of your life.

Even if that someone was… well, him. Guessed you would have to make do.

“You’ve already condemned me to live here with you, Just Mando, for-fucking-ever. You’ve destroyed my ship, so it’s not like I can go anywhere, can I?” you pleaded with him. “This whole planet is already my personal jail, don’t make it even smaller or I’ll go crazy.”

In your begging, you had gotten up and cut the distance between you. The tips of your shoes bumped into his weathered, leathered boots. He didn’t move, not even one inch ― completely unbothered by your proximity. Your face was so close to his helmet, the steam of your breath almost fogged up the transparisteel of the visor.

And, for a second, he seemed to consider your petition. Or so you had liked to think. You measured each other up, no one giving in or up.

“Until you can be trusted,” Just Mando remarked. The Mandalorian was the first to finally retreat, taking a step back into the hallway. “It’s up to you how long that takes.”

Flabbergasted, you looked at him in disbelief.

And then he shut the door. The click of the lock quickly followed.

Hours had gone by until you heard the door unbolt.

A different droid, an astromech one, greeted you.

“Beep boop, beep!” it happily chirped.

Luckily you knew enough Binary to unsderstand that it said, “dinner is served”.

“I don’t get it. I’ve already had dinner. Don’t need to be here,” Din complained, arms crossed at chest level, manspreading on a chair in the dining room.

“Try to be understanding, sir. The girl has lost her freedom,” Mrs. Kri’gee almost reprimanded him.

“Least you could do is keep her some company, Alor,” Nau’ul chipped in.

Din scoffed, irritated. And such irritation surprised him. He shouldn’t feel anything but a void in his entrails.

Nau’ul picked up on his unusual display of feelings as quick as he did.

“Master… Have you thought that perhaps this girl could help you break the spell?” the protocol droid ventured, almost stammering towards the end when Din snapped his head back to look at him.

If looks could kill, Nau’ul would have dropped dead.

“Fucking nonsense. You heard the witch, the spell she cast,” Din muttered, jaw so clenched it almost hurt him. “Stop looking for solutions and just accept it. After eight years, you should have already giving up your futile hopes.”

“Someone has to keep the spirits up around here. Depressing enough as it is,” the droid retorted.

“If you allow me, Master, Elsbeth’s exact words were, ‘until you find your maker once more’, and that is up to interpretation,” Mrs. Kri’gee added.

Din remembered very well the cursed that Morgan had spitted in his face before he took possession of the Darksaber and sunk it in the witch’s belly.

I condemn you, Din Djarin, to an eternity of loss, Of emptiness, apathy and thorns. At full moons you will be at your worst, With nobody to keep you warm. You shall walk this Galaxy alone, Until you meet your Maker once more.

They still resonated inside his head, clear as the pale ale in the jug in front of him.

“It dims more and more every day, Alor. The Darksaber is losing its glow. You’ve been ignoring it for years, but I fear that if you do nothing about it, well…” Nau’ul voiced his worries, hands twisting ― a very human-like gesticulation.

Mando had spaced out, not listening to one word. He only snapped out of his trance when the door creaked, announcing Ca’nara’s and your arrival.

The bags under your eyes were screaming for some rest, which apparently had been evading you. He had given you enough hours alone to get some sleep and freshen up, so why hadn’t you? If you looked so miserable, that was entirely down to you, not him. Of that much he was sure.

Din straightened his back, sitting up properly, while Nau’ul rushed off his feet to serve you the food the droid had prepared. With a flourish of his hand, he presented you with his creation.

“It’s tiingilar, a Mandalorian stew of meat, vegetables and spices. It’s hot, very hot, be careful,” the protocol droid warned you.

From across the table, Din could have sworn he saw your eyes watering, then you blinked a few times, grabbing the spoon.

“Oh my stars, how many spices have you put in here?”

“Oh, you don’t like spicy food?”

“Well, I do, but it smells so spicy, I’m about to cry, phew!” you swept along your waterlines with your index fingers, making a point.

“Alor prefers it this way. I can prepare something else…”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll eat it. Thank you…?” You dragged your words, looking for a name.

“Nau’ul,” he replied. “Anything you need, please ask.”

And then all three droids disappeared from sight, leaving you both alone in the dining room.

You glanced up from your plate, eyeing him above your spoon while you blew on it to cool it down.

“Are you not eating, Just Mando?” you raised an eyebrow, inquiring.

If Nau’ul was still in the room, Din would have snarled at him. Instead, he folded arms again and shook his head no.

“I’ve already eaten,” he explained dully.

He couldn’t―wouldn’t―remove his helmet in your presence, or anyone’s. Not even his droids had seen his face in all the years they had been together. Din had been raised to follow the Mandalorian Creed and even though he was no longer part of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, he still believed. It was intrinsic to him, to who he was. Or had been. The only thing that kept him true to himself.

“Because you can’t remove your helmet in front of me. Right?”

Din tilted his head in surprise. He did not expect you to know that. Were you acquainted with the Mandalorian culture? And if so, why? You were not one, he could tell. But what were you? Your accent was a mixture of different ones, so he could not pinpoint where you originated from.

“This is the Way,” he found himself saying. It had been a long time since those words last escaped his mouth. “Where are you from?”

“Oh, from here and there, everywhere and nowhere…” Then you took the first spoonful of the stew and started coughing almost instantly. “Fuck, this is spicy,” you whispered, tears in your eyes, as your hand lunged forward to eagerly down the drink.

Din almost smiled at your severe reaction. The corners of his lips began to curl up but quickly dissipated, his own body fighting against such act of rebellion.

“So you’re a nomad?” He asked with certain curiosity in his voice, while he leaned forward to pass you the jug full of ale to top up your drink.

“Yes. I don’t have a homeworld. I don’t even know where I was born, we moved around so much my father didn’t even remember,” you went on almost absentmindedly, pouring the beer in your glass. “What about you, Just Mando?”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Just Mando’? It’s just Mando,” as soon as he said it out loud, he understood the joke. He pressed his lips together, slightly amused. “I see,” he mumbled.

You laughed as if it was the best joke ever. The warmth in your laughter was vivid, hearty, compelling. Like a melody it filled the air ― suddenly the room was not as bare as before. As cold either.

“So? Were you born here in Mandalore, Mando?” the smirk coiling your lips told him you were teasing him.

Din debated whether to open up or not. Whether to tell you the truth or a lie. But Nau’ul was right, if you were to spend the rest of your lives together, lying was not a good start.

“I was born in Aq Vetina, but was raised in Concordia,” was his succinct answer.

Your eyes unsuccessfully searched for his under the visor. Din could tell you wanted to press him, get more information out of him, but that was as much as he was willing to share today.

“Eat up. It’s going to get cold,” he urged you, wanting to leave so he could be alone.

“So bossy,” you whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes to the back of your head, before attacking the tiingilar.

Nine weeks later

You turned to the next page of the book on your lap, your mind completely captivated by the story of the pages in front of you. Books were scarce in this day and age, but Mando had managed to salvage a few after years of rummaging through the rubble. This one in particular was a storybook for children ― a story about a Mandalorian fighting the Mythosaur down in the Mines.

You were immersed in it, curled up in your bed with a thick duvet and a few pillows around you. Your room was not bare anymore ― you had decorated with a few trinkets you had found in your day trips to the outside world, with Mando as your guide. The fear of the first week had slowly eased, giving way to a new sense of comfort.

Forgotten was your thirst for freedom. With the passage of time, you learnt that Mando was not joking when he first said death was the only way out. And since you didn’t want to die, you slowly had embraced this new way of life. You had made friends with the three droids and had really tried to form sort of friendship with Mando.

The Mandalorian was a tough nut to crack. He was not keen on showing emotion, so much so you even wondered if he was capable of feeling anything. You had noticed that, many a times, he relied on Nau’ul to show him how he should act or react. A droid teaching a human how to be human ― unfathomable. Perhaps all these years alone in Mandalore had taken its toll on him.

And so you liked to think that you were somewhat helping him reconnect with that side of him you thought long gone. By ‘helped’, maybe you meant ‘forced’, but Mando had thrown you in this situation, so now he had to put up with you.

The door to your room opened suddenly, startling you so bad you almost threw the book at Mando.

“One of these days you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Don’t you know how to knock?” You screeched, hugging the storybook to your chest and burying yourself under the duvet ― you were only wearing a shirt and your underwear.

“Are you not ready yet?” you had grown used to the exasperation in his voice.

“Ready for what? It’s only half seven in the morning, Mando!”

“You wanted to visit the Living Waters in the Mines and see for yourself if it really is a Mythosaur’s lair, remember? Since you don’t believe a damn word of what I say,” he scowled, still under the doorframe.

“Oh, shit! You’re right!”

How could you have forgotten? You had been insisting for over two weeks now, and only yesterday did he capitulate. You were no Mandalorian, so shouldn’t be in such a sacred place, but you managed to convince him that it would do literally no harm to anyone if you visited.

In your excitement, you jumped out of bed, forgetting you were half naked, and looked for some clothes to put on.

“I’ll… I’ll be waiting in the parlour,” he muttered and disappeared into the hallway.

Ten minutes later, you were outside, on your way to the Civic Center. As you approached this new-to-you, unprobed area, the destruction around you made your stomach churn. The Great Purge and then years of neglect painted a gruesome picture in front of you. Inside was even worse, although you couldn’t see much considering how dark it was.

You followed Mando diligently ― he had been here before, so you trusted his instinct. You stepped where he did and remained silent while you descended into the ground.

After a few more minutes, a humid, warm cave appeared in sight. There were massive pillars holding the crumbling ceiling, and piles of debris everywhere. Stairs led a path to the Living Waters below.

“This is beautiful,” you mumbled in awe, looking around you.

The place was eerie and silent as a tomb. Seeing it with your own eyes, now you could understand why people would believe in the existence of a mythological creature.

There was a plaque on a stone nearby and you got closer to read it. However, the writing was in Mando’a, so you cocked your head to look at Mando.

“What does it say?”

He walked towards you and stopped right behind you. His proximity sent a warning shiver down your spine. You ignored your body’s reaction, focusing on the words you didn’t understand.

“These Mines date back to the Age of the First Mand’Alor. According to ancient folklore, the Mines were once a Mythosaur lair. Mandalore the Great is said to have tamed the mythical beast. It is from these legends that the skull signet was adopted and became the symbol of our planet,” he relayed, his voice ricocheting between the bare walls.

“And you are sure you’ve seen it? Mandalore the Great lived, what, hundreds of years ago? In all that time, you’re telling me, you’ve been the only man to witness the rise of the beast?” One perfect eyebrow raised into your forehead, a smirk curling up your lips, as you taunted him.

Although you couldn’t see, you liked to imagine the frustration distorting his features. Lately you had wondered who the man under the helmet was, but you knew you would never find out. Mando took the Creed very seriously, too seriously.

“I did,” he replied concisely. “I don’t care if you don’t believe me.”

“And what were you doing in the water anyway? It does not look very inviting.”

“I had to redeem myself,” you could tell he hadn’t mean to tell you that, because he nervously adjusted his posture.

“Why?”

You were like a loth-wolf with a bone ― you wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“I had broken the Creed and had to atone for it,” his voice lowered, uncomfortable with the topic.

“How did you break it?”

“Will you ever stop asking so many damn questions?” he growled, evading your probing.

You lifted your hands up in the air in a peaceful gesture, but not without a subtle grin on your mouth. You loved driving him crazy, it was one of the little fun you could have in this place.

“Alright, alright.”

You bent down to grab some flat stones off the ground and practiced your stone skipping skills. That was until Mando’s big hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you mid-throw.

“Stop that, you’re going to awaken the beast,” he snarled, pushing you close to his chest a bit too forcefully.

“Oh, come on. Gimme a break, Mando. There’s no Mythosaur, you must have imagined it.”

“There is and I didn’t,” his grip loosened, and you took the opportunity to throw another stone. “Fucking quit that attitude now,” he warned you, grabbing you by both of your wrists, your hands flush against the beskar breastplate.

Your pelvis was sweetly pressed against his, your thighs touching his. Even with the beskar pieces, you could feel all his edges, his― Shit. His manhood resting just above where slick heat was gathering in your core.

You laughed to release your own tension ― your head snapping back, exposing your neck to his eyes.

“Oh, wow. You’re serious,” you managed to say between laughs, ignoring how close you were to him. Ignoring how wet your pussy was.

“Of course I am. You don’t unders―”

The sound of water abruptly moving forced both of you to look in the direction of the pond. Something enormous had risen, taking up the whole airspace, and water cascaded down its sides.

You froze in place, your mind rushing to come to terms with what you were seeing, as you looked at the gigantic figure towering above you. The water kept falling, so you couldn’t really make the shape of the monster underneath. But in that moment, you knew Mando had not imagined jack shit. The Mythosaur was real. Very real.

Mando pushed you back and put himself between you and the imminent danger. Above his shoulder, you saw horns sticking out and a big pair of eyes staring you down. Its skin was covered in scales and small horns, giving it a very reptilian appearance. The Mythosaur was massive beyond comprehension, and you could not, for the life of you, visualise it being tamed or, worse, ridden.

Time stilled and so did the beast. Its eyes were transfixed on you ― no, on Mando. As if they were measuring each other up, as if they were communicating somehow. Since that was impossible, it was obvious you were imagining things.

Before any of you could react, your heart pounding manically and your breath hitching, the beast went back down below the water level, and a massive wave dashed towards you. Within a matter of seconds, the Mythosaur was gone, and you and Mando were soaked to the bones.

Mando reacted before you did, turning around and forcing you to walk back.

“Let’s go, now! Move!”

In the safety of your bed, after a hot, steamy shower, you let your mind drift back to the moment in time where Mando had held you close to his chest earlier that day. How your body had unwillingly behaved to his closeness, how you ached for him to reach below your hips, right between your thighs…

With a soft moan, you gave in to the desire that had been pooling low in your belly for a while now. Your fingers dipped under your underwear, finding that sweet bundle of nerves in your wet slit. Your index tapped at your clit a few times until you stroked it ― electricity shooting up your spine.

That felt so good, you did it again and again and again, while your brain came up with different scenarios where Mando was giving you hell. With half-lidded eyes and lips parted, you smothered the beating nub with your thumb, two other fingers finding the entrance to your pussy and submerging in your wet heat.

You picked up a relentless pace, imagining they were Mando’s thick fingers, as the first orgasm in a long while started to build up inside you. Your own hand made you whimper, teeth sinking in your bottom lip so hard you almost drew blood. Your back arched involuntarily, stroking your pulsing clit more harshly now, your fingers reaching further in.

The squealing noise of the door opening alarmed you, your orgasm evaporating into thin air. You just about managed to remove your tantalising hand from your panties and throw the duvet above you. Panicking, you looked at the door.

Mando was under the frame, so still you thought he was a statue. You had tried to conceal what you were doing, but the rigidity of his posture told you he had seen enough.

Your cheeks reddened, your face on fire at the realisation of being caught masturbating. By none other than the protagonist of your wet dreams.

“Mando! I told you to fucking KNOCK!” You screamed at him from under the quilt. “You can’t just walk in like that!”

When you didn’t hear the door close ―because you were not expecting an apology from him―, you peeked above the duvet.

The Mandalorian had not moved one inch, and you really feared he had become immobile forever. But the tent on his groin showing through his body stocking told you otherwise.

And then he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. It was the first time he had trespassed the doorframe, you noticed. Butterflies filled your stomach and your lungs as he approached the bed you were lying on, your widened eyes looking for his unsuccessfully ― always unsuccessfully.

Mando didn’t say one word as he removed his gloves, coming to a halt by your side with his shins pressing against the bedframe. When they dropped to the floor, your eyes drifted right up at him, searching for clues, anything that could be crossing his mind.

His naked fingers were the first time you saw his skin, a bit of him. He was real, and he was right in front of you, caressing your cheek. You found yourself closing your eyes and leaning on the palm of his hand ― a tender gesture amidst your unresolved sexual desire.

Mando tilted his head, and you understood. An unspoken petition that you willingly granted. Driven by your lust, you scooted over to the other side of the bed, making room for him, dragging the duvet with you.

“Nuh-uh,” he clicked his tongue as he knelt on the mattress after having kicked his boots.

He yanked the duvet off you, exposing you to him with just your shirt and underwear.

You leaned back against the mountain of pillows and looked at him doe-eyed ― then your sight followed his right hand as it landed on your pubic bone. You pressed your lips into a fine line, swallowing a moan at his touch. His fingertips traced your wet slit over your panties.

“What were you doing, hm?” he husked, his long finger dragging against the garment.

“I, uh… well…” you stammered, unable to look for the words.

“Were you touching yourself?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

“Were you close?” a sliver of care transpired through his modulated voice.

“Yes,” you cooed.

“Sorry, mesh’la (beautiful). Let me help you with that,” he offered at the same time his fingers dunked under the waistband of your panties.

You melted into the mattress, audibly moaning, when he stroked you. Your eyes shut to focus on the pleasure his fingers were expertly working on you, sliding through your slit a few times, from your thudding clit to your dripping hole ― your clit hitching between his fingers every time he traced them back up.

He worked your flesh with his bare digits, and after a few minutes, his index and middle fingers went back down to your hot entrance. He tempted you with the tips but didn’t go in ― you were tiptoeing on the precipice of your pleasure.

You whimpered, annoyed.

“Please, Mando―”

“Din. Call me Din, mesh’la,” he hummed, the tip of his finger circling your entrance.

“Please, Din,” you blurted out, eyes flying open and transfixed on his visor, begging.

You let go of a pitiful groan when Din―you liked how his name rolled off your tongue―finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. Two of his thick fingers dove in your seeping pussy, slightly parting your walls in preparation―hopefully, if you were lucky―for his dick.

First slow, then a devilish rhythm his fingers imparted on you. The orgasm quickly built up again, Din’s dexterity beckoning you to climb to the hilltop. And you did, you let yourself feel all the pleasure he was giving you until it was too much, your clit raw and overstimulated by his precise thumb. You reached the top of the mountain and jumped into the abyss underneath. The wave of your climax washed over your, drowning you ― your cunt spasming around his fingers while your knees pressed together.

When you opened your eyes again, all tearful due to immensity of your frenzy, you were relieved to find that Din had released his throbbing erection through the zipper in his body stocking―you didn’t have the patience right now to unclasp all the armour pieces, you needed him now.

The sight of his engorged dick made your mouth water. The girth and the length of it should have made you flinch, but instead it made your pussy wet itself a bit more. It had the perfect size to fill your insides to the brim. Din’s hand moved up and down on his shaft, slowly pumping himself although he was already hard.

You lifted your hand towards his manhood, and he removed his to let you touch him ― for a second you were fascinated by the soft swaying of his cock. Then you wrapped your fingers around it and Mando grumbled, sitting on his heels, manspread for you as a tasty offering. He was a sight to see ― knelt and sat on his heels on the mattress, fully clothed, helmet on, armour hugging his body, and his erection peeking out through the zipper, leaky and throbbing just for you.

Giving him a few pumps, you looked up at him with a smirk. And before he could complain or stop you, you came closer to him and gave the plump head a lick, then sealed your lips around his leaking glans.

The groan that bubbled up his throat spurred you on to bob your head down, taking half of his pulsing length in your mouth.

Din’s hand tugged at your hair abruptly, pulling you off his twitching dick.

You glanced up at him confused.

“I can’t―I don’t think I can take a blowjob without blowing my load, mesh’la. I need to fuck you now,” he was honest with you.

It was understandable. He had been stuck here for at least eight years, which meant that he had not laid with a woman for at least as long. You would have lost your mind too if someone hadn’t touched you in that time.

“Come on then, fuck me, Din,” you mumbled, laying back down on the pile of pillows so your upper body was propped up.

You spread your legs, making room for him. Din swiftly shifted, dragging himself into position.

It was a fucking sight; one you had been dying to see. And he was finally there, all cozy in between your thighs. He parted your legs, resting the back of your knees on his shoulders. He pushed your panties to a side, leaving you completely exposed.

You couldn’t see, but you knew his eyes were focused on the prize―your damp, puffy folds, clit twitching and hole begging.

“Been wanting some pussy for a while now,” he confessed in a grumble, head tilted back when the tip of his veiny cock slipped up and down your damp furrow.

“Here I am, take what you need.”

How altruistic of you.

His mushroom, precum-covered head caught on your slick entrance and Din bucked his hips a little, only the tip smoothly going in. Your heartrate spiked, your walls imploring for the full length of him to clench on. And then, Din thrusted in harshly, pushing his cock in down to the hilt in one smooth jolt. You both howled in unison at the intrusion ― his a deep, guttural moan, yours a high-pitched one.

Mando held onto your knees on his shoulders as he started with the slow sway of his hips impacting on the back of your thighs, building the perfect pace. His dick dragged along the right spot inside you as he jackhammered you into the pillows, another orgasm gathering in your core. Din’s rhythm became frantic, frenzied, to the point where he had to let go of your knees and lean forward, his hands holding onto the rattling headboard.

Mando fucked you hard, drilling you like a man starved. You could feel him stuffing you full, his hard dick disappearing between your swollen, greedy pussy lips. Reaching up, you held onto his arms above you, fingers wrapping around his elbows. Your body rocked up and down on the bed below him with the force of his unrestrained charges.

Your cunt couldn’t take it anymore ― it contracted around his girth, announcing your second climax, which quickly overtook your senses. With stars in your vision, you wailed his name, now fisting the bedsheets as you came, a never-ending wave making your twitch under him uncontrollably.

“Fuck, I��� Fuck,” he growled, his hips bucking and stuttering erratically at the sight of your fucked-out expression.

He was close, you knew by the way his dick constantly pulsed inside you ― he just needed a bit of prodding. That was your signal to clench your walls around him, squeezing him as hard and snug as you could, clamping on his thudding cock, never wanting to let him go.

That was his undoing ― you felt Din’s warm, thick spend painting your inner walls, his steely cock convulsing with the last waves of his release.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Din between your legs, his dick still buried inside you as it softened. The inside of his visor was fogged up and you doubted he could see much.

“I didn’t mean to come inside, I was gonna pull out―”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. He didn’t need to worry about that.

His helmet tilted, but whatever question lingered in his mind, he didn’t ask.

His thumb lightly pressed your relaxed clit with gratitude, massaging it softly, before he pulled out and your pussy released his shaft. That gentle stroke ignited your nerve endings, slowly coming back to life. His thumb then went down, gathering the cum your pussy was releasing, and shoved it back inside you.

You bit your bottom lip to stop a needy moan.

“Wanna go again?” you asked, grinning. Offering.

Din laughed. He fucking laughed. You had never heard him laugh before.

“Sure do, but I need a minute, mesh’la.”

Every night for the next two weeks Din found himself stranded in the corridor leading to your room, like a lost, thirsty man looking for water in the harsh desert of Tatooine.

The internal struggle was always the same ― he shouldn’t seek you because, after all, you were his prisoner. You were stuck here with him because he had forced you to, giving you no other choice. Sure, he had not imposed his presence on you―quite the opposite, in fact―but it still seemed wrong to take advantage of you like that.

But then he would see you come out of your room, almost as if you knew he was marooned there, and would approach him with caution. Willingly you would take his hand and lead him to your nest, erasing any doubts he could have about your eagerness. You were as keen as he was ― fucking had become an entertaining pastime. And a calming balm for the beast within.

It was the same dance every night, without failure. And tonight had been no different, except for the hushed “I want you so badly, Din” that had dropped from your parted lips as you rode the last wave of your orgasm, a blissful expression softening your features.

As he stood outside of your door, back towards it, Din wondered what you had truly meant. Was it just a benign slip of tongue or was there something else behind it? He hoped for the first, because he couldn’t afford the second.

Feeling something―anything―was out of the question. Even if he wanted to, didn’t matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t. Elsbeth had cursed him to an eternity of apathy, and it had worked ― over the curse of the last eight years, Din’s feelings had dimmed, diminished and then disappeared, while his inner monster became more powerful, feeding off his emotions like a leech sucking blood out of its host. Mando had tried to feel to keep the beast at bay ― would even make the droids try to anger him in silly competitions, but the dull sense in his chest just grew bigger and bigger, like a tumour rotting his entrails.

Din couldn’t remember what happiness felt like ― he had a barren wasteland for a heart. So cold were his insides, he even thought all his organs were covered in beskar. That was what brought him back to your room every night ― your warmth, how it would seep through the cracks of his skin, warming up a part of him that he thought dead.

Tonight, he had allowed himself to really feel your body against his ― helmet still on of course, you both had been stripped naked for the first time, your skin rubbing his, heating him up. Whether he would admit it or not, he craved you. Yearned for your warmth.

With a shake of his head, his feet finally unglued from your doorstep and sauntered towards the west wing. A single light at the end of the corridor twinkled, snuffing out the moment he stepped below it.

He swung the door open to a room he had not visited in a very long while. Din preferred to pay no mind to the source of his emotional detachment, but Nau’ul’s words had been nagging him for weeks now, an annoying reminder scratching the back of his brain.

“It dims more and more every day, Alor. The Darksaber is losing its glow.”

He had to see for himself.

The room should have been dark if it wasn’t for the light the Darksaber’s blade emitted. Din trudged towards the display stand in the middle of the empty space, where the Darksaber rested under a glass case. Two metal, U-shaped pins held the Darksaber upright.

An electrifying, white glow encased the black blade, but it was certainly fainter than what he remembered. Significantly fainter. It had taken him a few years to understand that the Darksaber was the vessel of his curse ― as his feelings dwindled and the beast grew fonder of control, so did the light of the Darksaber. He was not sure though about which one caused the other to wither away.

As he stared at it, Din pondered what would happen the day the light from the Darksaber would flicker away. Morgan had died before he could fully understand the idiosyncrasies of his malediction. At first, the frustration of the unknown had only driven him mad, especially when the full moons would bloom on the night sky, leaving him at the mercy of his curse.

The first time he had transformed, bathed by the white light of Concordia, Din thought he was dying. The burning sensation, the bones breaking and fusing back together, the stretch of his skin, the blood becoming cold in his veins and his mind spiralling out of control… He hadn’t died, but he sure wished he did. Only at dawn was he able to gain back control, so exhausted he just laid on the dirt near the Civic Center for an entire day before finding his way back to the royal prison.

Only with the insight of time did he decide it did not matter. The end was the end, and if that was the way, then he would greet it.

Din sighed, his eyes dry under the helmet. Looking around and knowing himself on his own, he carefully removed his helmet, wincing in agony, and placed it on top of the glass case. He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose in an attempt to clear his mind, one hand resting on the glass.

Eyes shut for a long minute, he ended up fluttering them open. His reflection greeted him ― a terrible, gruesome sight, a face he almost didn’t recognise anymore. The scar that ran from the left of his chin diagonally to his right temple had distorted his features ― his chin slightly dented, the left corner of his mouth raggedy, the flesh on his upper left cheek mildly sunken around the scar, his crooked nose even more angular and his split eyebrow giving him a permanent frown. And then his right eye, completely blinded with a white discolouration covering his iris and pupil.

He could still feel the blade of the Darksaber melting his beskar helmet as Morgan pressed it against him. It hadn’t completely cut through the Mandalorian alloy, but the fire filtering through had burnt his skin, leaving an everlasting imprint on his face.

Din remembered the heat, the panic building up and the sizzling sound of his skin as it thawed like ice under the sun. The smell of burnt skill still haunted him sometimes when the helmet became too overwhelming.

The damaged tissue was thick but extremely sensitive ― every time he pulled the helmet off his head, the fabric inside would drag against the scar tissue, making him flinch in pain.

Shaking his head to release his mind from such memories, Din stared at the Darksaber for longer than intended, lost in his train of thought. For the first time in ages, he wanted to know if the curse could ever be broken.

Until you meet your Maker once more.

That had a pretty definite sentence to it. Death was the only way out.

“I didn’t see you last night,” you mumbled, repressing the need to add an ‘again’ to the end of your sentence.

You had noticed that there were certain nights when Mando would vanish, wouldn’t visit you at all. You wouldn’t see him in the morning either and if you asked any of the droids, they were as evasive as their master.

You still didn’t know why and every time you prodded him about it, his answer was…

“Had stuff to take care of.”

You sighed, pressing your lips into a thin line. The idea of slapping him had its appeal.

“Are we still going?” you quickly changed subject, not wanting to be disappointed with him today. “I’ve not really asked you for anything in the three months I’ve been here.”

You watched his gloved fingers drum on the metallic surface, helmet tipped to one side as he considered your words. You wanted to believe that in the time you both had spent together, Din’s undaunted façade had softened a bit. His replies had become less snappy, his posture slightly more relaxed, and his hands way more caring as they canvassed your skin every night.

An invisible force had been towing you towards him, his gravitational pull irresistible. Din Djarin was a challenge to you, a puzzle you had started putting together. He strived so hard to remain indifferent, it was now an exciting game to make him feel. The only downfall? You were falling for him. Perhaps him being the only man to walk this planet had something to do with it, you had no other options. Also, you knew that fucking the brains out of each other every night would eventually lead you here.

Considering that you had a lifetime to spend on this world, letting yourself feel for Mando was something you could afford. And even if he didn’t want to show it, you were positively sure he was not as apathetic towards you as he let on.

“Alright. I don’t see the harm,” he accepted.

You mumbled a “yes!” with a smile crooking your lips as you pushed the chair back to stand up.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

You rushed out of the room to run to yours and change. The winter was receding, but the cold was still bitter and nippy, so you decided to put on appropriate gear. A few minutes later, you darted towards the lift, where Din was already waiting.

Couldn’t help yourself, you had to smile at him, the softness of your grin reaching your eyes.

Din cleared his throat, face facing forwards to avoid your orbs meeting his.

The way down in the elevator was soundless, but you had grown used to his silence treatment. The short journey to the crashing site was as tranquil as the trip down the lift. Mando was truly a man of few words.

When you caught a glimpse of your T-65B X-wing starfighter, you overtook Din and ran towards it in excitement.

“Careful there! The ground is slippery, you’re gonna―”

Before Mando could finish his warning, you recreated what his next words were going to be: you slipped on an icesheet. Waving your arms so you wouldn’t lose your footing, you ended up falling face first. You managed to partially stop the fall with your hands. The rocks underneath slashed your winter trousers, cutting your left shin.

By the time Din had gotten to your side, you had already stood up.

“You okay?” he asked with worry in his voice.

You nodded, smirking at the preoccupation he was showing.

“Yeah,” you lied. If he knew you had hurt yourself, you would be turning around and returning home empty-handed.

“Be more careful, will you? The ship ain’t going nowhere,” he snarled once he knew you were fine.

You rolled your eyes at him before strolling to the aircraft. Your old X-wing had seen better days ― the glass of the cockpit was smashed; vegetation had grown over the body. Moss covered most of it, painting it green instead of white. When you peeked inside the cabin, you realised it was flooded, all electrics wet. It was truly done for ― if you ever had any hope of leaving this planet, it would not be aboard your X-wing.

Din stood watch as you foraged for the item you were here for. After a few minutes, you located the star compass under the seat in the cockpit, drenched. Looking over your shoulder to see where Mando was, you opened the compass and water leaked everywhere. The black lodestone was static, unmoving ― maybe it just needed to dry off. Despite how damaged it was, you hoped it would still work. You were not planning on using it, obviously, but it was a reminder of your old life, one that now seemed very far away.

You couldn’t say you missed your previous life. The constant travelling had taken a toll on you in the last few years, having almost lost sight of searching for the Darksaber. Now that your feet were back down on the ground, gravity keeping you centred, this new life was not so bad after all.

“You found it?”

“Yeah!”

You quickly clasped the lid back down and jumped out of the cockpit. Perhaps you had lied to Din about what you were really looking for, but something in you told you not to tell the truth. So, when he asked you that morning why you wanted to go back to the shipwreck, you simply lied, telling him you were looking for your family’s locket ― a relic that had been passed down for generations.

The object was small enough to pass for one. You waved it at him quickly, not really showing it to him, before you shoved it in one of the pockets in your vest. Luckily Din didn’t ask for it, otherwise he would have realised it was made of beskar.

“Let’s go back then.”

“You’re bleeding,” Din’s fingers grabbed you by the elbow, yanking you back before you crossed the door to your room.

You looked down, having forgotten about the wound on your leg. You shrugged, downplaying it.

“It’s nothing, I’ll just take care of it now.”

“Like hell you are,” he growled with clenched teeth while dragging you inside.

He only let go of your elbow when you were by your unmade bed. Din stopped right in front of you, hands on hips. He nodded to you, commanding you to remove your trousers so he could see.

Your eyes rolled in frustration and clicked your tongue.

“It’s fine, Din. Don’t worry about it,” you dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

“I’ll decide if I have to worry or not.”

And, without prompt, he pulled down your trousers in a swift movement, leaving your legs bare. You huffed but let him help you out of them and remove your boots. Mando signalled you to sit on your bed and so you did. Din knelt in front of you, grabbing your hurt leg by the ankle until your heel was resting on his bent knee.

He inspected the wound for a minute after having removed his gloves. His fingertips burnt your skin where they ghosted over it.

“It’s not too deep, just a scratch.”

“I told you it was nothing. You have some unresolved trust issues, Din,” you joked, slightly leaning back with the heels of your hands flat on the mattress.

You couldn’t see but knew his eyes squinted under the visor.

“I’ll go get something to clean it. Wait here.”

Mando walked out and you took the chance to remove the uncomfortable coat. A minute later, he had returned with a clean rag and a small container with lukewarm water. He knelt in front of you again, grabbing your leg, and dutifully cleaned the wound.

You couldn’t help but sigh at the feathery touch of his fingers on the back of your knee. His proximity was enough to lighten your need for him. Also, being only in your underwear and a shirt while he was knelt between your legs did not help at all. Your imagination was already running wild ― and so your legs parted slightly, almost involuntarily.

Din’s attention shifted from the wound to your core. He tried to hide he was being distracted, but the helmet kept tilting to one side so he could have a better look at where your thighs met.

You chewed on your bottom lip, slick warmth pooling in between your legs.

“Din,” you hushed his name, your hand searching his so he would stop cleaning the wound.

The Mandalorian didn’t need much prodding after that. He towered above you rising to his feet, his hips at your eye level. You knew he was hard already, so couldn’t ignore the call of the siren.

With rigid steps, he walked towards the chest and placed the container dow. He scrunched the rag so the water dripped back into it. Soon enough, he was in front of you again, clean rag on hand.

“Do you trust me, mesh’la?” his modulated voice was low and husky.

You nodded vehemently.

“I want to try something different this time,” he murmured, the rag twisting in his hands. “But you gotta promise me you’ll behave for me.”

“I will,” you promised, breath hitching in anticipation.

“I’m going to blindfold you and remove my helmet. But I have only two ground rules: you can’t take it off and you can’t touch my face. At all. No excuses. Are we clear?”

A rush of lustful excitement ploughed through your veins. You found yourself nodding again, your neck hurting.

“Use your words, cyar’ika (beloved).”

“Yes. Crystal clear, Din,” you mumbled, widened, almost adoring eyes staring at him. You hadn’t missed the endearment term, although he seemed to not have noticed.

“Good,” he curled one finger at you.

You sat back up, hands laced on your lap patiently waiting as Din blindfolded you with the damp rag. He secured it with a very tight knot on the back and made sure three times that it would not go anywhere.

“If you break your promise, I’ll have to kill you,” the threat was very real, not even a hint of joke in it.

Your mouth went dry and your clit irremediably pulsed ― your pussy was already wet and warm for him. You shouldn’t get off on a death threat, but apparently Din could reduce you to a slick mess just like that.

“I-I won’t remove it. You have my word. Please.”

“Be a good girl for me and lay down on your back,” he commanded you and you happily obliged.

Your heartrate spiked as you heard Din discarding the beskar pieces over his body stocking. Maybe you were too eager, but he was taking too damn long. Then a hissing sound told you his helmet was gone.

This was fucking torture. You wanted to see him, to see the face of the man who made you wet with just a few words. It was cruel of him to impose something like this on you, such a prohibition. However, you understood what his Creed entailed and respected it.

Hated yourself right now for respecting it, but you did.

Din placed his hands on the back of your knees and lifted your legs up, the soles of your feet resting on either side of his naked hips. The warm palms of his hands caressed your ankles, massaging them briefly, before travelling up your calves and inner thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Unceremoniously, his fingers curled around the hem of your panties and pulled them down your legs; you couldn’t see but were sure he had thrown them away.

The Mandalorian exhaled audibly the moment his hands landed on your knees and pulled your legs apart. You squirmed, knowing he was devouring you with his eyes.

“Din, please, just―” you whimpered, moany and needy, anticipating.

“Shush. Don’t be so impatient, mesh’la,” he chastised you while stepping back.

That was the first time you listened to his real, manly voice. It was deep and raspy, surly yet sweet.

Your feet, no longer supported on his hips, dropped to the ground.

“Go on your fours,” he talked you through the position he wanted you in as you obeyed. “Now lean down, rest that pretty face of yours on the mattress for me.”

With your perky ass up in the air, you felt very exposed with your inner thighs pressed together and framing your swollen pussy like a pretty picture just for him.

One of his fingers traced your wet slit and you had to stop yourself from wiggling your hips until his finger was partially inside you.

“Look at her, all drippy and puffy for me. She knows what’s coming, doesn’t she? That’s why she’s so fucking wet,” he hummed, shuffling behind you.

You couldn’t see him, but you were damn sure he was on his knees at the feet of the bed.

Din placed his hands on your ass cheeks and parted them, the skin in your sticky furrow stretching while his thumbs caressed your labia. Your cunt was on full display, and you could feel the cold air of the room against your damp, sensitive skin.

“At last, I can claim her as mine,” Din whispered, his hot breath fanning on your pussy now, sending shivers up your spine.

You moaned, finally understanding what was coming.

He didn’t keep you waiting. Din’s tongue lapped your whole pussy in one go and your entire body trembled at the wet touch, his beard prickling your skin. Covering your mouth, you swallowed a pitiful whimper while your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. Mando’s broad hands squeezed your ass, grounding you, as he leaned forward again to drink from the fountain of your pleasure.

His tongue dipped in your creamy slit and stroked it slowly, deliberately loitering around your clit, but never really paying it much attention. He kissed your swollen lips, making out with them as if they were your mouth, the tip of nose intimately caressing your perineum. With the help of his fingers, he splayed open your quivering cunt, your hole accessible to the apex of his mischievous tongue.

Din licked you for minutes on end, ignoring your pulsing clit on purpose. The tension inside you coiled almost uncomfortably, so intense it would snap at any given moment. His devilish persuasion was relentless, more so when he would introduce his tongue in your very core.

You bucked your hips against his mouth, grinding. Desperate.

“Din, please, please, here,” you begged, slipping one of your hands down your belly and in between your legs.

You parted your slippery pussy lips, your clit hitching between them, showing him exactly where you wanted his goddamn tongue.

“Here, please,” you insisted, teary-eyed, at the edge of your patience.

“So impatient, mesh’la,” he chuckled behind you, still on your fours for him.

Finally, his lips latched onto your clit, and you whined out loud, pure elation running through your veins at the sweet suckling of his mouth. His teeth grazed the sensitive nub, and you saw stars behind your eyes, head slightly tilted backwards as you mewled until your throat felt raw.

Din sucked on your clit harshly at the same time two of his thick fingers found their way to your oozing hole. You screamed a resounding “fuck” at the perfect intrusion. The combination of his tongue and his digits were more than what your nervous system could take. Lick, pump, lick, pump ― the perfect rhythm making your toes curl, your pussy clench and your clit set ablaze.

The whole pussy-eating-from-the-back situation was too much ― his fingers ever so tantalising, you surrendered. Rubbing your cunt against his mouth, you moaned his name as the best orgasm of your life almost rendered you unconscious. You came on his mouth while Din just sipped from you, drinking all your discharge as if it was the last drops he would ever taste.

You could only hear your heart beating in your eardrums, all your senses overwhelmed. You were so out, you had almost forgotten the rag blindfolding you.

“You’re gonna come again for me, mesh’la,” only then did you realised his fingers were still inside you.

You panted, gathering your thoughts.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, entranced.

“Oh, you can and you will,” he groaned, accepting the challenge.

And with that, his wicked lips pressed against your cunt, and he started all over again. As it turned out, he was fucking right. His tongue and his fingers were working you so well, there was no way you could resist. However, this time, there weren’t two fingers stuffed in your whole, but four. Your walls were so outstretched it should have been painful, but it wasn’t ― he had made sure to get you ready, pliant under his dutiful care.

“I wonder if you could take him. Bet you could,” Din whispered in a moment of respite.

“Huh?”

All thoughts dispersed when the second climax spread across your entire body, leaving you exhausted; a pitiful, sweaty mess on the bedsheets.

“Turn around and lay down. I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” the crudeness of his words should have made you frown but instead you smiled, completely blissed out.

Din made good on his promise. On your back and with your legs parted, you heard him moving around until he was between your thighs. Then he leaned forward, his hands on either side of your shoulders to keep his weight off you, and his hard shaft dove inside your cunt with no resistance. When he bottomed out, he snapped his hips back and then forth, until he was rutting into you like a man on death row.

Your hands held onto his back, your nails digging in his skin. You wanted to move them up and sink them in his hair so badly, your palms were itchy with longing. He had said you couldn’t touch his face; he hadn’t said anything about his hair. Hoping he wouldn’t notice your intentions, your hands drifted up his back, arriving at the nape of his neck.

So close to burying your hands in his hair, so fucking close…

“Don’t,” he growled at you, the snapping of his hips against yours unforgiving. “The fucking audacity. I. said. don’t. fucking. touch,” he punctuated every word with deep, sharp thrusts.

You winced and gasped at the depth of his dives, your mouth shaping a perfect O, back arched off the mattress below you. Every stab of his dick kissed your cervix, and you just couldn’t stop moaning uncontrollably. The mild pain quickly blossomed into ecstasy; your skin electrified with pleasure.

Suddenly you felt his mouth ghosting over yours; his unfiltered, gruffy grunts were music to your ears. You reached up, wanting to steal a kiss from him to taste his lips for the first time, but he slithered back.

“You don’t respect boundaries, do you?” Din rumbled.

His voice should have had a tinge of anger, but instead it sounded… amused?

“You have had a taste of me, it’s only fair I get something in return, Din,” you bargained breathlessly, but got no reply. “Please?”

Imploring for a measly kiss from your captor while he kept on fucking you. That had to be a new low in your book.

You couldn’t see him as he jackhammered you into the mattress, but knew he was debating. Whatever inner debate he had, the side you were banking on won.

“You keep your hands on my back at all times. Yes?” One of his hands moved to your neck, his dextrous fingers wrapping around your throat. “Or I’ll―”

“Kill me. I know. Elek, Alor (yes, Master),” you whispered in Mando’a, breath hitching.

His mouth came crashing down on yours, teeth colliding in a very messy kiss. His tongue sought yours with fervour and sucked it into his mouth. He tasted like you.

You couldn’t help but moan in midst of the sloppy kiss, your heart finally content at his small yet meaningful surrender. The grip of his hand around your neck softened but didn’t dissolve, adding another layer of excitement to his unabating thrusts.

“Gar serim, cyar’ika (that’s it, beloved). You’re so good, so fucking good for me. Warm, tight pussy always ready for me when I need her. She never disappoints,” he maundered, your brain spiralling with his praise.

Praising your cunt, not actually you, but you would take anything he would give you.

A few minutes later, the breathy groans of your making out along with the squelching sounds of your lust filled the air, quickly followed by the loud moans announcing your climaxes. Your cunt clamped on Din’s dick―a promise you’d never let him go―and he blew his load inside you. The tackiness of his cum filled your insides as his cock pulsed one last time and his lips pecked yours.

Din dropped to your side, panting with exhaustion, and you just laid there pondering all the decisions that had taken you there.

You’d never let him go.

When the fuck did that happen?

“How long does winter last here?”

“A good part of the year, around six months,” he replied dryly.

He was aware of the fact that you had been trying to get words out of him for the past week. Make conversation, talk about his story, his past, his interests. See if there was any common ground between you. But Din couldn’t bring himself up to actually share personal details.

And every time you tried, and he would dodge your attempts, he would see the disappointment painted across your face. And every time, something unknown would uncomfortably stir within him. He suspected you had started to harbour feelings for him ― and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t reciprocate you. Didn’t want to break your heart.

It was his fault, really, for seeking you out every night. You were so giving and him so greedy, he just mindlessly took what you offered without giving you anything in return except for a few orgasms and a good time.

“What did you do last winter? Bet it was boring being home with just the droids…”

Din knew very well what answer you were expecting: It was. Your presence has been a great improvement. You make my days―and nights―more bearable.

But instead, he shrugged.

“Dunno. Kept myself busy with stuff,” he muttered frugally.

He kept on walking before you, making the way back home after a quick stroll around to breathe some cold, fresh air.

The Mandalorian did not expect to be attacked by a snowball, which hit the back of his helmet. He quickly turned around.

“What the hell are you―?”

Before he could finish his question, you hit him again with another snowball, dead centre on his visor.

“You are such a prick, Din Djarin,” you snapped between gritted teeth, patting another snowball between your gloved hands. “Would it actually kill you to be a bit more open, hm?”

This time he saw the attack coming and was able to duck, avoiding the next snowball.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes, I’m mad, you fucking idiot!” you yelled at him, trudging forwards with another snowball on hand. “I’m mad for you, but either you’re fucking blind or you’re a cold-hearted jerk.”

Little did you know he was actually blind in one eye, but it didn’t seem to be the time to point it out.

The sudden love confession caught him off guard. You were not supposed to say that. You were not supposed to feel that way, not for him.

Din remained calm as you cut the distance and tried to smash the fourth snowball on his covered face. His fingers gripped your wrist before you were able to do so.

“You’re just confused, mesh’la. All the sex is blindsiding you, but you really don’t feel anything for me,” he reasoned.

You looked at him as if he had slapped you and took a step back.

“Of course, because you, the freaking Tin Man with a dead heart, know better than myself how I feel. Un-fucking-believable, honestly. Go fuck yourself, Din,” you scoffed, pushed him to one side and walked past him.

Din saw you disappear through the sliding door, while he stood there in disbelief.

What the fuck had just happened?

You kind of expected Din not to show up at your door tonight, but his absence in your bed stung either way. Sure, you had told him to go fuck himself, but now with a new―horny―perspective, you would prefer if he fucked you instead.

Infuriated with him, yourself and the situation, you sat back up on your empty bed. You reached for the drawer in your nightstand and opened it, grabbing the star compass inside. Fidgeting with the aurodium clasp, you wondered why the fuck Din didn’t open up. After three months and a half with him, you had thought you had been able to break through his armour ― the figurative one, not the real one.

Every time you tried to talk about your relationship with him, Din would shut you out or wouldn’t even engage in the conversation at all. He was more stubborn than a falumpaset, and that was saying something. Despite his indifference, you believed that, deep down in that cold, dead heart of his, he cared for you. Maybe he didn’t love you, but at least cared for you.

You didn’t even know if you loved him, anyway. Infatuated was, most probably, more accurate, you’d like to think. Most days you pushed that thought to the remotest corner of your mind, not wanting to consider it. Because, after all, you were his prisoner ― you might forget it some days, but the reality was that Din Djarin was your captor. So maybe it wasn’t love ― perhaps it was just a survival mechanism. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Amid your pondering, you almost didn’t realise that the hands of the compass had moved, and the lodestone was humming, the plasma inside slowly swirling around. Your heart jolted in your ribcage, almost dropping to your stomach, when you finally paid it attention.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, jumping out of bed.

You had hoped it would work once it fully dried, but you were not expecting it to be actually functioning. It seemed to sense the Force emitted by the Darksaber, but that couldn’t be possible. If the Darksaber was here, in Mandalore, Din would know―would have told you. Right?

No, he wouldn’t have.

With that thought in mind, you put on some more decent clothes and cracked open your door. Carefully, you peeked in the corridor to confirm the coast was clear. It was close to midnight, so you hoped everyone―Din and the droids―would have gone to rest.

Tiptoeing through the hallway, you followed the path the star compass was pointing to, only to find yourself in the west wing after a few minutes. You knew you shouldn’t be here, but the compass hummed louder, vibrating on the palm of your hand, as you turned another corner. Looking up from your family’s relic, you saw a door at the end of the hallway.

“BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEP BOOP! BIP! PIP!” Din’s astromech robot, an old R2-D2 unit, screeched at you loudly, skidding and coming to a halt in front of you. It even had a red light flashing at you.

You almost threw your heart up there and then, the little robot giving you the biggest scare of your life.

“CA’NARA!” you told him off as your heartrate slowed down. “Fucking hell, you almost killed me, little devil.”

“BEEP! PIPIPIPI!” the droid beeped at you, going around you in circles.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, sorry!” you whispered, “I-I’m a sleepwalker!”

Ca’nara seemed to calm down, only for Nau’ul to appear in scene.

Great, fucking great.

“Ca’nara, what’s going on?” the protocol droid turned the corner, almost bumping into you. “Oh! What are you doing here?”

“I- Uhm, I was just telling Ca’nara that I’m a sleepwalker. He literally just woke me up. I didn’t mean― you know I cause no trouble, Nau’ul,” you pleaded with the affable droid.

“Of course, of course,” he took a couple of stiff steps back. “What’s that on your hand?”

Fuck. You looked down, coming up empty with a lie.

“I don’t know. I literally just woke up, I don’t know where I got it from,” you stammered a bit, but the droid didn’t pick up on it.

“I’ll take it. Alor will know what it is and where it belongs,” Nau’ul extended his hand towards you.

If you didn’t give it up, it would arouse suspicion. So, unwillingly, you passed it on to him.

“Where’s he?” the question slipped your tongue before you could refrain.

“Alor is… indisposed, miss. He needs to rest,” he replied cryptically as you both walked back to the main corridor where your bedroom was.

“Indisposed? Is he sick? Is he okay?” you instantly worried.

“He’ll be better in the morning, fret not,” he paused in front of your room, and you opened the door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nau’ul,” you mumbled before closing the door behind you.

What a varping disaster. Nau’ul had confiscated your star compass, which meant that Din would eventually see it. If it came to it, you were not sure what you would do. And you still didn’t know what was in that room, why the compass had gone crazy as you approached it. But you had a pretty good idea. Chances were, the Darksaber was on the other side of that door at the end of the west corridor.

Sighing, you sauntered towards the big window in your room. Two perfectly aligned full moons dominated the night sky, their white, sparkly glow bouncing off the walls. It was a beautiful sight.

Something in the path below caught your attention. A metallic reflection. Your eyes drifted down just in time to see Din running towards the Civic Center, as if a thousand ghosts were on his heels.

You frowned, confused. Where was he going at this witchy hour? Wasn’t he sick?

A scary thought formed in your head. Were you under attack? Had Ash come looking for you after several weeks without returning his messages?

Heart pounding with worry, you darted to the door and then the lift. Whatever threat was coming, you would face it with him. With such resolution in mind, you followed his trail.

Your concern for him skyrocketed when you arrived at the Civic Center and saw nothing but pieces of his armour scattered around. You snatched the shin and thigh armour off the steps to the main door, only to look up and find more bits spread around the entryway.

This made no sense at all. Why would Din dispose of his armour? Something was wrong, very wrong, but you were not under attack.

You gathered all the armour pieces in your arms while calling his name but heard nothing except the whistling of wind passing through cracks and crannies.

Suddenly, you felt the need to look down the stairs to the Living Waters. A hunch rooting in your core, wrapping around your heart. Then a faint, painful growl came from underneath and all your senses flared alive.

What was Din doing down there? In the Mythosaur’s lair?

Panic hiked up your throat as you hiked down the stairs, the animalistic snarl louder now as you drew nearer. At the bottom of the steps, eyes fixed on your shoes, you dared to glance up.

His armour fell from your arms on to the ground, clattering. You were not prepared to see what you found.

Din was half curled up on the floor, naked and dragging himself towards the water. Only he was way bigger ― almost seven feet tall, his body much more muscular with chiselled, blueish veins across the whole of him, hands big as paws with his nails digging the dirt underneath.

You took a step forward, catching a better glimpse of him. Then you truly saw ― his skin had a viridescent tint to it and had started to scale. Rugged lumps raised from the skin on his back, tiny bones protruding through. No, not bones ― small horns, like those of a reptile.

Not like a reptile. Like a Mythosaur. Only smaller than the beast you saw a few weeks ago.

With a guttural bellow, he removed his helmet, throwing it to on side as he crawled towards the rippling water. His head was crowned by thick, short, greyish curls ― exactly what you had imagined.

“Din?” you whispered, taking a precautious step towards him, one hand extended in front of you to appease him.

His head snapped around at the sound of your voice.

You gasped at the sight of him. What first struck you was the scar across his face, one that would perfectly line up with the mended crack on his helmet. It ran diagonally through his rugged features, distorting them and hugging that crooked nose. His teeth seemed slightly pointier too. The next thing you noticed were his blown, bloodshot eyes with pupils as big as his sclerae.

Not eyes, one eye ― the right one was completely discoloured, covered in a white sheen.

He still looked like Din, but… not really.

The vision in front of you should have scared you. Even more so when Din stared at you, and you saw nothing in his expression ― he didn’t recognise you. Whoever, or whatever, this was, he wasn’t the man that had kept you company for the last few months.

Logic dictated you should run in the opposite direction. Instead, you propelled forwards towards him, knees skidding on the dirt and landing by his side.

The warm touch of an alien hand grounded him for an ephemeral instant. The bitter cold crawled under his scaled skin, rejecting the heat like a limping animal avoiding the helping hand of a human.

He snarled, creeping back and away from you, as if your mere proximity was a threat to him.

Because it was.

“Din, I’m here, let me help you,” you besought, dragging your knees towards him again.

He didn’t know who Din was. Where he was or had gone. Did he ever exist? The Beast didn’t know―didn’t care. So he growled again, but his futile attempt didn’t keep you at bay. Guessed you had a death wish, only that could explain your blatant refusal to his rejection.

Both your hands fell upon him, like warm blood spilling and enlivening his senses. For once the cold running wild through his veins minimised, giving way to a hot flush that was foreign to him. The sudden warmth surprised him ― but what shocked him the most was how soothing it was, how easy was for him to crave your touch. A primal need.

The Beast had forgotten what warmth was, having been cursed to a lifetime of coldness for as long as he could remember. Crazed by this newfound feeling, he slowly sat back up on the ground, eyeing you like a predator watching his prey.

Your hand reached up to him to cradle his cheek and the Beast closed his eyes, that warm feeling running down his neck, wrapping around his dead yet beating heart.

“You’re so cold,” you mumbled as you cut the distance some more, your chest nudging his side.

Another heatwave flashed through him ― your warmth beckoning, your body too inviting. He wanted to dive in, to let your warmth surround him, make him surrender. He craved it so bad, so fiercely, the Beast bowed down to sink his forked tongue in your mouth ― unannounced, unrequited.

You moaned at the intrusion, your hands lacing on the nape of his neck, and that only spurred him on. He gave in to your warmth and gave up his restraints. Growling, he plundered your mouth as he forced you down onto the ground.

Towering above you, his tongue slipped out of your mouth to graze your neck, and you shivered under him. Biting your chin, he returned to your lips to kiss you, to suck out your warmth to replenish himself. Like a leech he drank from you while his rough, broad hands roamed your body.

“Din,” you mewled.

He didn’t like this Din whose name you were moaning. So he kissed you, not wanting to hear it again and tugged at your clothing. Impatient, he almost tore your garments apart and only relaxed a little when you were completely naked beneath him.

Pressing his bare body against yours, he revelled, soaking in your heat. But there was a part of you that was hotter, and he could sense it ― like a tracking fob, he pursued the warm feeling as he slithered down your frame.

The heat pulsing from between your thighs called him home, hypnotising. You pressed your knees together and he snarled, his sight darting to your glassy, dreamy eyes, silently distraught at your denial.

He leaned down over you to graze one of your nipples, smothering it raw to show you what he could do to you down in your balmy core. His demonstration worked, because the next time he coaxed your legs apart, you showed no resistance.

So down he went on you, fingers splaying out your puffy folds to display the focal point of his desire. Like a thirsty animal his bifid tongue darted out and swept the length of your damp slit in one slow, sweet sweep. He howled into your pussy, besotted, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he devoured your seeping cunt. Warmth poured from your clit, and he latched onto it rather harshly, finally finding the beacon that reeled him in.

“Fuck, that― Mhmm,” whatever you were going to say died in your lips as a moan hitched in your throat and your body trembled.

A rush of liquid fire met his tongue, and he accepted your offering as your thighs quivered around him ― the strength of your release eased slowly, but his tongue didn’t.

His fingers found the warm cave he needed to nestle in. But before he could do that, before his brain got fucked out into oblivion, he had to prepare you to take him. He massaged your leaking entrance one digit at a time until you were sweetly stretched around four of his fingers.

You whimpered with the first pump and slowly you eased into it, into the feeling of being full to the brim. He licked and flicked your throbbing clit, the hot nub driving him wild. Your inner walls tightened, announcing another climax, and he pulled it out of you with his fist still immersed in your pussy.

Once you came down from your high, the Beast unburied from between your thighs and loomed over you. Your half-lidded eyes and fucked-out expression only made him harder, hotter. He hungered for the moment your bodies would connect; the moment he would finally feel only warmth running through his veins. The moment the cold was forgotten, albeit only fleetingly.

The tip of his cock nudged at your pliant entrance, and he trailed the head up and down your dewy furrow a few times. Your eyes blew open the moment he poked at your hole, parting your flesh, and you looked down at his dick kissing the mouth to your cave.

“Din, I don’t think― Oh, holy FUCK,” you mumbled something uncoherent afterwards, head tilted back and your teeth sinking in your bottom lip as your pleading metamorphosed into moaning.

His whole frame blanketed yours as he supported his weight off you by placing his forearms to either side of your head.

Slowly, inch by inch, he buried himself in you, suffocating heat radiating from where you two met. He growled, an animalistic bellow bubbling up his throat as he felt your walls swallowing him, sheathing his throbbing cock. And when he was fully embedded in you, buried almost down to the hilt, you whined as he remained still ― your walls adjusting around him. He was maddened by the warmth of you.

Only when he felt you relax around him, did he start pumping in and out of you. His mind went blank as his sight transfixed on yours and your foreheads touched, another bridge between you. The Beast rutted into you, first paced, then madly, as he stared into your soul. Your body rocked up and down underneath him, your back arched so your nipples caressed the bare skin of his chest.

The movement of water behind him made him look over his shoulder. The Great Mythosaur had resurfaced, only the top of his head and his eyes were above the water table. Watching, ever present and lurking. Eager. Wanting.

He growled at him, a warning to back the fuck down ― he wasn’t sharing you; you were all for himself and himself only. His exclusive prey, no one else’s. With a low rumble, the Great Mythosaur disappeared under the water, and he refocused on you.

Tension built up at the base of his spine, his cock pulsating so hard it was difficult to ignore it any longer. And then your pussy clenched around him as you orgasmed once more, and that inevitably milked him dry ― both of you moaning in unison as ropes of thick, white cum painted your inner walls, leaving a lasting imprint in your core.

The Beast panted above you ― all coldness deserted from his body, destituted by your unique warmth.

He sat back up, his engorged cock leaving your entrails. Through the daze in your eyes, you looked at him with a satisfied grin. As you sat up straight, you lifted one hand towards him, softly placing it on the center of his chest.

“Come back to me, Din,” you begged, and all hell broke loose within him.

The pain, the shearing pain, blinded all his senses as his bones snapped and rearranged again. His jaw clenched to stop the agonising screams hiking up his throat. Din hunkered down as his body adjusted back to normal size.

As grievous as it was, it was over very quickly. Too quickly. He had not fully transformed into the Beast, which meant easing out of it was not as traumatic.

What was traumatic was the sudden landslide of overwhelming feelings taking form inside him. Almost a decade of apathy meant years’ worth of emotions repressed ― emotions that would emerge to the surface if given the opportunity. And whatever you unleashed within him, flooded his brain and his heart.

A myriad of sentiments rushed through him ― joy, anger, hope, disappointment, serenity, desperation. All at once, a cacophony bursting his eardrums. So loud were his emotions, all boiling together inside him, his thoughts were drowned. He couldn’t think ― panic was setting in.

Din panted as his arms and legs trembled uncontrollably, lungs vacating all oxygen in sharp exhales. His ears rang and his heart threatened to climb up his throat and run. Eyes closed shut, he grasped for control.

“Din, I’m here,” your hands slid on his back, grabbing him by the shoulders.

A soothing balm taking many of his worries away. Your palms smoothing out his skin felt like an anchor. One he desperately tried to hold onto.

Through the fog of his anxiety, he saw you knelt by his side, hugging him close. Naked as he was, a sweaty patina clinging to your skin. Although Din had not been in possession of his own body, he had been relegated to the background and had been witness to everything that happened. Forced to watch him take you.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry. I can’t control him, I just―,” he wheezed as he sat back up.

Your soft eyes sparkled, a faint smile curling up your lips. Your fingers snaked through his hair, combing it back.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Din,” you hugged him tighter, reassuring, kissing one of his shoulders.

“Are you hurt? Did I― did he…?”

“I’m completely fine. A bit… sensitive and raw. But in a good way,” you added with a faint chuckle.

The comforting caress of your hand rubbing his back and your lips brushing the skin on his shoulder made him believe you.

Even though the look in your eyes had not changed, he could see the questions dancing in your pupils. Questions you were holding back, but that would eventually spurt out.

Your free hand reached for his left cheek, and he almost flinched at the proximity. Your thumb had come too close to the scar, sending a shot of pain down his neck. But he didn’t lean back away from you. Instead, Din stilled under your touch.

“I knew you’d be gorgeous underneath that helmet,” you whispered, your mouth close to his.

Din grunted, taking your compliment as an offense. Why were you mocking him? He knew how he looked ― he didn’t need you making fun of him for it.

And why was he upset? He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Your tiny fingers wrapped around his wrist when he reached for the helmet nearby. You yanked his forearm until his eyes met yours.

“I wasn’t joking. I mean it, Din. Truly,” you husked, hand again on his cheek and thumb too close for comfort.

He couldn’t see a sliver of jest in your features. You were deadpan serious. And that scared him.

Din looked away, coming to terms with the flaring emotions. Emotions. Even the unspoken word tasted weird on his tongue.

You moved away from him to quickly gather your clothes and put them on. Then returned to his side with his armour and clothing.

“Let’s go back home, Din. You look knackered,” you mumbled, kneeling by his side again.

Din didn’t reject your aid when you helped him get dressed again. Taking the helmet between your hands, he bowed down his head so you could put it on for him.

His body ached in places he didn’t even know could hurt ― all the restructuring his bones had to endure always took a physical toll on him. So much so, he needed your help to stand up ― his legs felt like those of a newborn humbaba.

But today… today it also took an emotional toll on him.

He really was exhausted.

You probably needed time to process what had happened tonight, a whirlwind of questions and doubts battered around in your mind. But you didn’t want to leave Din alone, not when he looked so fatigued, a moment away from breaking.

Walking down the silent corridor beside him, arm draped around his waist, you went past your room. You had never been to his and hoped tonight would be the night where he would let you spend it by his side.

Hand heavy on the handle, you pushed it down and the door swung open. You didn’t know what to expect and, somehow, the bareness of his room did not surprise you at all. The metalwork on the walls had been painted black and the furniture was sparse. A massive bed with black bedsheets dominated the room.

Despite the monochromatic theme, it felt cozy, inviting even. Dragging him towards the bed, you gently pushed him down on to the mattress and knelt in front of him to remove his boots.

“I can do it,” his words slurred.

“I know. But let me do it, please,” you muttered, throwing the shoes to one side.

Din hummed in agreement, so slowly you unfastened all the beskar pieces again. Removed the vest underneath and unzipped his body stocking down the side, helping him out of it.

There was something extremely intimate about undressing him. Not with a deprived end in mind, but a caring one.

I could do this forever. Only if you’d let me, the intrusive thought didn’t startle you. Because it was true.

Last, you placed your hands to either side of his helmet to pull it up. By pure instinct, his hands darted up to yours to stop you from uncovering his face.

“It’s okay, Din,” you reassured him softly.

Din crooned again, arms falling to his sides, surrendering, and you took it off, leaving it on the nightstand.

You could truly get used to this; you’d never tire of looking at him. His rugged features, although distorted by the nasty scar, were pleasant. His soft, brown and white eyes, the aquiline nose, the moustache blending in with the beard, the strong jaw. You only saw beauty, no beast.

Mando let himself fall backwards and you stood there by the side of the bed, unsure of what to do with yourself.

He decided for you.

“Stay, please,” he purred, half asleep by the time his head touched the pillow underneath.

He didn’t need to say more. Removing your clothes, you joined him under the bedlinen with a smirk.

The first lights of the morning filtered through the big window in Din’s bedroom. You had been awake for an hour now, but he had been so peacefully sleeping, you didn’t want to disturb him.

A tangled mess of limbs you were, your legs intertwined with his while your right cheek rested on his bare chest. Your left forearm was splayed across his abdomen, the tips of your fingers mindlessly caressing his ribs.

Pressing a kiss to his left pec, he stirred under you, slowly coming out of his slumber. You hugged him tighter, an easy smile surfacing.

“Good morning,” you husked when he looked down at you with just his left eye open, lips slightly curled downwards.

His addled expression made you snicker as you kissed his jawline.

“Morning,” he hushed back once his brain registered your words.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Everything hurts, but I’m okay.”

The arm of his under you moved, bringing you closer to him in a half embrace.

“I know you have questions,” he said a few moments later.

“Understatement of the year,” you joked, lifting your head slightly up to rest your chin on his chest. “Is now a good time?”

“Might as well,” his reply was accompanied by a smirk.

“You didn’t transform fully last night, did you?”

Din shook his head. “No, just halfway. I think your presence stopped it from happening.”

Did that mean that you could soothe the beast? That you could help Din in a way that really mattered? The mere possibility filled your belly with butterflies.

“And, well, the most obvious one… How?” you emphasized the last word.

“A witch cursed me before I killed her,” you looked at him quizzically, eyebrows raised, and he sighed. “A man by the name of Moff Gideon had someone I held dear under his grasp. A kid I was fond of,” he paused to gather his thoughts while your breath hitched at the name of Moff Gideon. “I fought Gideon to free him. I won, but he had backup I did not see coming. A witch named Morgan Elsbeth. She came to his rescue and I ended up killing her. Her last breath cursed me to an existence of apathy and becoming a beast. Guess it worked,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “That was eight years ago and ever since then, my ability to feel has been dying out while the beast has only gotten stronger.”

Your head spun with so much information, you almost felt dizzy. Did Din fight Moff Gideon? Was it his halo you chased eight years ago?

“Is that how you got the crack on your helmet and the scar?” you ventured, heart pounding.

“Mhm,” was his only reply. “How I lost my right eye too.”

The helmet was made of beskar, one of the strongest alloys in the Galaxy. Only a weapon strong enough would be able to melt it. But you couldn’t push him for more details, or it would be suspicious.

And did it really matter? Did you care that much about the Darksaber? Yes, you had spent your whole life looking for it; yes, you had promised your dying father you would finish the mission. But that felt like a lifetime ago.

“What was the kid’s name? What happened to him?”

“Grogu. He is Force sensitive, he went to the Jedi for training,” he pursed his lips, and your fingers smoothed out the crow’s feet around his right eye.

“You miss him,” you hummed, your fingertips tracing imaginary lines on his skin.

“I didn’t think I did. Till now,” he confessed, stirring under you. “I don’t know, it’s weird. Since last night I have started to… feel again. And it’s overwhelming.”

Your heart did a little jump against your ribcage. If he could feel now, did he feel for you?

You were too scared to ask, so didn’t.

“Maybe the curse is fading?”

“Maybe,” he said back, sounding unconvinced. “You hungry?”

You nodded.

“I’ll go get something. Bet Nau’ul has prepared a feast. Whether it’s edible or not, I don’t know.”

You chuckled at the joke and moved off him so Din could get up. In silence, you watched him dress, his back muscles rippling with every movement.

Yes, you could get used to this.

Fuck the Darksaber. Fuck everything. You just wanted to live your life. With him. Here, in Mandalore. Only if he’d let you.

It was selfish of you to think this way, but Din’s curse had become your blessing.

Every night since you discovered his secret, you’d go to his room and spend the hours of darkness with him. He would reluctantly take the helmet off, but each time you would reassure him he couldn’t scare you away, that what he thought he looked like didn’t matter in the slightest. And you meant every single word. In your eyes, he was perfect just the way he was.

There was still the issue of his Creed forbidding him, but you wondered if it was more habit than anything else.

And every full moon, you would follow him down to the Mythosaur lair to let him take you, excitement running through your veins every single time. You knew you shouldn’t enjoy it but allowing him to fuck you in beast form was exhilarating. Even with practice you had still not been able to take him fully ― his cock too big to bear. It was worse when you attempted a blowjob on him ― your jaw almost dislocated. But you were more than happy to try, obviously.

And of course, it helped him regulate, which was the most important point of all. He had told you he didn’t feel as cold either. Even if his body was hot to the touch, Din had explained how his organs, his blood, felt like icicles. Ever since the beast had had a taste of your warmth―Din’s words, not yours―it seemed like his feelings were slowly crawling back.

That had been interesting too. After so many years spent numb, Din had had a bit of trouble dealing with his emotions. Sometimes they were extreme, out of proportion even, but he was learning how to manage them. Although most days felt like one step forward and three back, especially when it was a touchy subject such as love.

You had tried, but Din was still of the idea that he couldn’t truly feel ― that this was just a glitch, a shortcut, but not the real thing. And because of his stupid theory, he didn’t want to hear you say anything about The Matter. You had seen how much he had improved, how much better he could deal with everything, and yet he wouldn’t listen to you in that respect.

You rolled your eyes, still thinking about it, as you trekked through the mud. It was a crispy morning, but the cold had started to recede. Poor Ca’nara had a faulty retractable third leg ― the inside mechanism was getting jammed regularly. You had decided to be proactive and walk to the landing site of your X-wing, in the hopes that some parts of your astromech droid were salvageable. An extremely long shot, yes, but you had to try at least.

In full armour, Din sauntered towards the dining room, where the three droids seemed to be conferring about something.

None of them heard him coming, and Nau’ul startled dramatically when he saw him.

“Oh! Alor! What― Uh, do you want something to eat?” he asked, looking at Mrs. Kri’gee and Ca’nara nervously.

Din frowned, suspicious of their jumpy, evasive behaviour.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbled as his eye caught a glimpse of something shiny Nau’ul was holding, trying to conceal it. “What’s that?”

“Ah, this? Well. You see, I― It’s― Nothing really. I don’t really know what―” his stammering was riling Din up.

He was a damn droid, not a fucking human. How could Nau’ul get edgier than himself? Unbelievable.

“Give,” he extended his hand towards the droid, palm up, and curled his fingers with impatience.

The three droids shared weird looks, but Nau’ul finally handed him the object.

Din turned around the metal item and as soon as he did, he recognised the beskar. Brows knitting, he inspected the grooves and quickly identified them as astromeridian lines. This was not a simple object; it was a Jedi star compass. Confused as to how this came to be in the possession of Nau’ul, Din unclasped the compass and lifted the lid.

His breathing hitched and his heart skipped a beat. This was not any star compass; this was the star compass. One that all Mandalorians believed to be a myth. But the black plasma in the lodestone didn’t lie. In his hand he was holding the very same star compass that Tarre Vizsla had commissioned to keep track of the Darksaber in case it ever got stolen.

“Where did you get this?” he snapped, fingers clutching the device tight.

“I― Well, it’s complicated. I thought―”

“It’s hers, isn’t it?” he interrupted.

The memory of that day trip to your ship came back to him. A locket, you had said. Bullshit.

Nau’ul nodded.

“How long have you had this?”

“Weeks, Alor. I did recognise it from the lore I knew about House Vizsla, but we didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. She’s doing you good, Master, you’ve improved―”

“Unnecessarily? Are you for fucking real, Nau’ul?” Din replied angrily, teeth gritting.

Without expecting an answer, he turned around and stormed out of the room.

You were kneeling on the ground, elbow’s deep in the core of your old R3-D3 unit, trying to reach a hidden screw, when you heard heavy steps approaching.

“Good you’re here, I can’t get to this screw. I’ve been at it for five minutes now. Can you try?” you asked Din, who stopped inches away from your back.

When he didn’t say a word, you turned around and glanced up at him.

He radiated tension through every pore, his posture stiff and shoulders squared. Eyebrows furrowed, you got up, cleaning the palm of your hands on your trousers.

“What’s the matter, Din?”

“This. Why did you have this?” his voice transpired how mad he felt as he handed you an object you quickly recognised.

The star compass that Nau’ul had confiscated from you weeks ago. You had assumed the droid didn’t know what it was and hadn’t bothered to show it to Din.

Your eyes shot up to where you knew his were.

“I can explain,” you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his forearm.

“You better start talking now,” even if he hadn’t backed away from you, he felt so distant.

Your mind raced and your heart galloped inside your chest. You could lie your way out of this situation, but you didn’t want to. You loved him, and nothing else mattered. He would understand. Eventually.

“Din, listen to me, please. I’m not gonna lie to you: it is exactly what it looks like. My family, my tribe― we are trackers. Have been tracking the Darksaber for generations. I was raised to hate your people, but the message never really sunk in for me. Our purpose was to find the Darksaber and destroy it,” you explained while he remained deadly silent. “That was why I was travelling through the Mandalore system. I was tracking the Darksaber. I was going to Concordia, but I ran into technical problems with my X-wing and had to divert here. I think― I thought it was there.”

Until that night you sneaked out to the west wing. You had been caught before you could confirm your suspicions but were pretty sure that was what Din was hiding in the west wing. The reason he wouldn’t let you be anywhere nearby.

“But now you know it’s not in Concordia,” he finished for you.

You nodded.

“But I don’t care for it anymore, Din. Once I figured you likely had it, I made a choice. I chose you,” you whispered, closing in on him until your bodies met. “You have to believe me.”

He didn’t talk at all. Silence strung between you, dense and worrying, like a rope wrapping around your neck, forcing the oxygen out of your lungs. You didn’t want to panic, knowing that Din probably only needed time to think, to digest and ruminate.

Minutes went by and your grip on his forearm loosened. You were ready to take a step back, give him some space to process, when Din finally spoke in his modulated voice.

“I believe you,” a wave of relief washed over you, “and I choose you too.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach and then climbed up your oesophagus. It was beating so hard, so fast, you were seconds away from passing out.

He chose you.

Before you could throw your arms around his neck with pure elation, Din took a step back and one hand reached towards the back of his belt. Confused, you followed the movement of his hand, a deep wrinkle burrowing between your brows.

Din presented you a black hilt, waved it a little, and then the black and white blade appeared, humming very loudly, although dimmer than what you expected. Your eyes widened at the sight of the Darksaber ― the item your whole family had been searching for, right there, in front of you, an inch away from your fingers.

Lifting your right hand, you reached for it.

Suddenly, a firing sound broke the silence and, inexplicably, Din leaned forward towards you, the Darksaber dropping from his hand.

You held him by the elbows, not understanding what was happening, as his hands grasped for you. Then a second firing noise uprooted a painful groan from him while he almost dragged you to the floor.

“Din? Din!” you whispered, on your knees with him in your arms, as your hands roamed his body.

You felt the warm blood before you could see it and panic settled in fast. He was profusely bleeding from two gunshots on his back, right below the beskar piece that covered his six.

“No, no. Wait. What―” you sobbed as Din groaned, his consciousness drifting away.

You were losing him fast, and you didn’t even know how.

“Are you okay? Is he dead?”

A male voice came from behind a tree near the cliff. A voice you had not heard in a long while, but quickly recognised.

Ashton.

Blaster still pointing at Din, Ash had frozen several meters away from you. What was he doing here? How did he get here unnoticed? Why? Fucking why?

But none of those questions left your mouth, gutted as you were, holding onto Din, worried he would slip away from you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, overwhelmed as you were.

Din stirred in your arms, and you saw the panic reflected in Ash’s eyes as he cocked the blaster in Din’s direction again. There was no time to think, to beg, to ask him to leave. To tell him you loved the man he was intent on killing.

So you did the only thing you could do. Your fingers found Din’s blaster in his holster, lifted it up, pointed to Ash, and shot.

The light beam flashed before it hit dead center between Ash’s eyes. He stumbled back and fell into the abyss behind him. And just like that, you had killed the only friend you had known.

You should have doubted your actions, but you didn’t. It all happened too quickly, and you had bigger worries than having killed one of the few people you cared about. Like losing the love of your life.

Dropping the blaster, you rushed to remove Din’s helmet.

“Din, please, just hold on. Please, stay with me. Please, don’t leave,” you screamed and cried, hands trembling and pressing on the wounds on his back.

His eyes fluttered open, only a tiny slit ― his gloved hand reached up, cradling your cheek.

“Cyar’ika,” he could barely talk. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum (I love you). Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No, no. NO. You ain’t saying goodbye. No,” your words slurred as your sobs intensified, your heart breaking into a myriad of tiny pieces.

You removed the glove of his hand to kiss the palm, your tears streaming between his fingers. Yours wrapped around his wrist, holding him there.

As you cried your eyes out, you noticed the Darksaber humming louder, almost deafening, and its light shining brighter. Its vibration called you, hearing your name inside your head. A Force deep within you awakening, beckoning you to touch it. A need as basic as breathing.

Through teary eyes, blinking fast, you gave in ― you grabbed it.

An electrifying sensation ran through you, all your muscles coiling at once. Your mind spiralled out of control, for a moment losing track of time and space. The Force was so intense, so primitive, you thought you would be obliterated by its magnitude.

When you could finally open your eyes, the blade had dimmed considerably and then it completely snuffed out. Your cries had not stopped though, so loud you almost missed Din’s voice.

“Mesh’la,” he rasped, trying to straighten his back, “you― you’re Force sensitive. You’ve used the Force of the Darksaber to heal me.”

Your wet eyes darted to him and then his wounds. Or where the wounds had been but no longer existed. Mouthing a gulp of air, you instantly dropped the Darksaber to hug him tight, crying louder than before.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. We’re okay,” he hushed, comforting you.

“I love you, Din,” you mumbled in the crook of his neck, relief running through you loosening your taut muscles. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me again or I’ll kill you myself.”

Din chuckled, one hand smoothing out your hair.

“Noted, cyar’ika.”

Cradling his handsome face, you pressed a kiss to his lips. Salty yet sweet. You kissed him again, looking for the solace of his tongue.

The wind carried some words you barely made out.

“Maker met.”

Four full moons had come and gone, and the beast was no more.

Din’s curse was broken. For good. Forever.

You couldn’t have asked for anything else. Anyone else. You loved him and he loved you back ― he had shown you many times. Right as he was showing you now.

Your lips brushed his tummy right above his belly button, leaving a trail of kisses as you found your way back to his mouth. Din was laying on his back, his rough hands caressing the back of your thighs as you kissed his scar and then his right eye, lips soft as a cloud.

He didn’t flinch anymore whenever you touched the sensitive skin or his blind eye. Instead, he sighed, as if your caress was soothing, calming. As if you could take away the pain he felt sometimes.

You sat back up on top of him, straddling his hips as his mushroom head hitched in your entrance, his hands compelling you to impale yourself. But you didn’t ― not yet.

Instead, you leaned over a bit, taking the helmet off the nightstand. It was heavy. Curious to know what it felt like, you put it on. The padding inside was soft, your face snug. It was slightly claustrophobic, but also comforting. Weird.

“It suits you, cyar’ika. You should consider taking up the Creed,” he mumbled, eyes full of desire, of yearning. Of love.

You chuckled and stirred your hips above him, the tip of his cock going in ever so smoothly.

“For you, I just might, Din.”

@baronessvonglitter @bishtrouille @natalieispunk @iknowisoundcrazy @almostfoxglove

[sugoi-and-spice]

Taking Care, Taking What's Mine - A "Play Nice" Commission

Summary: A Play Nice AU Chapter, in which, rather than taking the high road and trying to build a real relationship with the girl he's been sextorting for weeks, Tomura Shigaraki baby-traps her instead.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Dub-Con, Smut, Extortion, Baby-Trapping, Forced Pregnancy, Love-Bombing, Manipulation, Power Play, Possessive Shigaraki, Yandere Shigaraki, Morning Sickness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy fucking Father's Day readers!! Lmao! I got this AMAZING commission a while ago to write an AU of my AU (a fanfic writer's dream come true honestly), of Shigaraki baby-trapping MC and well, while it took longer then I meant it to to come out, I'm so glad that I could post it on Father' Day of all days lmao.

Anyway though, this was so much fun to write. Shigaraki has been on the journey of bettering himself for so long in Play Nice now, it was a total blast returning to form and writing him nice and scummy again.

I'd love to do more of these honestly, so as a reminder: I give discounts on Commissions that take place in my AU's.

Play Nice, Burnt Bridges, Step by Step -- all of them. They're super fun for me to write and most of the heavy-lifting of ideating and plotting has already been done for them, so I'm happy to write fics like this for cheaper. :)

Anyway, enjoy some forced parentification on this day of dads. xD

“Hey, hey— are you alright?”

She lifted her head from where she’d been resting it against her gym locker, the coolness of the metal being the first thing to even remotely ease the headache she’d been fighting for the last three days. 

“Yeah, of course,” she tried to force a weak smile as Nejire approached her, clearly concerned, “Why do you ask?

The captain was dressed in her practice suit. And she quickly realized that so were all the other girls, most of them already making their way out the doors to the pool deck. She was the lone straggler who hadn’t even managed to undo her uniform tie yet. Nejire looked over at these girls, and then back to her, wordlessly demonstrating why that should be obvious.

She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, “Okay, I guess I’m feeling a bit under the weather today…”

And that was the understatement of the century. She felt like absolute shit . Piling on top of that stubborn pounding in her head were a pair of really sore tits, a lethargy that stuck with her no matter how much vending machine coffee she chugged, and cramps that had shot straight out of hell and directly into her uterus.

But to be honest, she couldn’t complain too much about these ailments. In fact, she was pretty damn relieved. These were all her tell-tale signs of PMS. They were a little worse than usual this time around sure, but if that was the tradeoff for the relief of not being pregnant, she’d take it in a heartbeat. Her period was only one day late at this point and it had all but paralyzed her with fear.

Of course in retrospect, the fear did seem a bit silly. After all, Shigaraki’s creepy family doctor had warned her there might be some changes.

“I never start patients new to birth control immediately on a Long Acting Reversible Contraception,” he explained, “Especially not teenagers.”

“Why not?” she demanded, “It’s reversible, right? It’s not like you’re tying my tubes or anything.”

“No, but you never know how your body is going to react to the hormonal shift. You could develop acne, weight gain, hair growth—”

“I don’t care about that superficial stuff.”

“... Migraines, blood clots, depression,” he continued, looking at her pointedly.

She looked away, feeling a bit stupid for interrupting him now that he’d listed the more serious side-effects.

“I’m not saying you have to stay on the pill forever. But give it a few months, see how you feel on it. It can help us better determine which long-term birth control is best for your body without any unnecessarily invasive procedures.”

She shuddered at the very thought of being stuck in this set-up with Shigaraki for months. She hoped he’d get bored of her sooner rather than later.

Well, on the brightside, at least this sketchy-ass doctor seemed to be as interested in looking under her skirt as she was having him down there. However, this still left the ever so pertinent issue of:

“Okay, but there’s still the issue of getting the pills. No pharmacy is going to give me these without signed parental consent.” She had the always convenient Japanese purity culture to thank for that.

Ujiko simply smiled and pulled out a wheel of birth control pills from his medical bag right then and there.

“Consider these the same as this appointment,” he said, cupping his hands over hers and placing the wheel firmly into her palm, “ Off the record. ”

And then the rest of the “appointment” had descended into one of extremely thinly-veiled intimidation that bizarrely enough, she’d relied on Shigaraki of all people to save her from. By that point, she’d been scared so shitless she had very little argument left in her to try and reason him into just giving her the damn IUD.

The regret of not standing her ground on the issue did hit her later that night on the train home. Particularly when she thought over the fact that the way they were keeping these pills off the record was by having her pick up her refills through Shigaraki. The idea of giving him even more power over her like that made her feel sick to her stomach. And yes, while logically she knew that he had just as much motivation to keep her from getting pregnant as she did (she had a feeling All for One would not take too kindly to his star successor knocking up a lowly commoner such as herself), she still just had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

So she’d resolved herself on her first refill day to completely lay into Shigaraki for any level of tomfoolery he may get up to in this situation. There would be no forgetting, no being too busy to pick up the pills for her, absolutely nothing. She was ready to rain full fire and brimstone on him if there was even a hint of bullshit.

But to her surprise (and relief), she hadn’t even crossed the threshold of his bedroom before he was tossing a new pack to replace her wheel with. Simple and nonchalant, and then he was just as quick as always to badger her about getting her clothes off already, get on the bed already, break up with your boyfriend already.

It was the same old, same old — for better or for worse. Even if she couldn’t trust Tomura Shigaraki himself, that action had at least ensured that she could trust his own desire for self-preservation.

And that was better than nothing she supposed.

Back in the locker room, Nejire asked her, “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

She smiled at her friend, joking, “Nothing I don’t come down with every month.”

Nejire tilted her head in confusion for a moment before the lightbulb visibly lit up in her head.

“Ohhhhh,” Nejire nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, Aunt Flow can be a real meanie sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, then winced as the action worsened the throbbing in her head,  “Damn it— you can say that again.”

Nejire’s brows furrowed and she brought a hand to the small of her friend’s back, “Hey, why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

She looked back to her, surprised, “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could!” Nejire chirped, “And honestly, you probably should. We’re working on our weakest strokes today. I had you down to work on your fly.”

Visible dread filled her as she thought about doing that much undulation in her current state.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nejire laughed, “Seriously, go home. We’ll miss you, but we love you too. So we want you to take care of yourself.”

She debated a little more internally, one other loose thread dropping into her mind’s eye.

“If I do… Do you mind—”

“I’ll let Mirio know,” she shot her a wink as she clarified, “ After practice. I’ll let him know you just need the peace and quiet.”

She smiled at Nejire, genuinely grateful. This. This right here was what made all of the bending over backwards she did to fit in and please others worth it. To be cared about by such a good person. 

The warmth of that care stayed with her all the way out to the school gates, where she was then immediately filled with dread upon realizing that she’d need to go in one of two directions depending on where she was going after school: the train station home, or the walk to Shigaraki’s.

And just which direction she was scheduled to go today.

She let out a long groan, anguished and loud enough to startle a couple members of the going home club that passed her. For once though, she didn’t care about her reputation, she was too focussed on what a goddamn nightmare she was falling into.

She pulled out her cellphone with a sigh. Yes she knew the effort was probably futile, but damn her if she didn’t at least try.

Yup. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. She sighed as she shoved her phone back into her bag and started the very slow trek over to Shigaraki’s. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Shigaraki said as he looked her over his doorway, “You look like shit.”

She shot him a wholly unimpressed look as she shoved past him into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I fucking told you.” 

Shigaraki, surprisingly, didn't have anything to say about her tone, even with her brusqueness towards him being more than usual. He just watched her drop down face first onto his bed and curl her legs up into her chest.

She sighed at the slight relief the position gave her. While dealing with Shigaraki’s antics was about the last thing she wanted right now, she supposed that at least she could be grateful for how much closer his apartment was to her school then her own home was. It saved her a good fifty-minutes of white-knuckling a train stanchion to keep down her groans of pain. Now at least she could get the relief of laying down much sooner.

If only for a little bit.

“What’s going on?”

She bristled at Shigaraki’s voice, the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t going to be able to truly relax right now. And while there didn’t seem to be any entendre or even impatience in his question, the fact that his voice was getting closer to her was enough to make her suspicious.

“My head aches, my back aches, my boobs ache — everything aches,” she grumbled down into his sheets, “And I feel like I’ve been donkey-kicked straight in the uterus.”

“You start your period or something?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic when he asked it, not that typical boy way of asking any time a girl did something they considered “moody”. It was a genuine question. But it irritated her all the same. 

Everything seemed to be irritating her these days.

“About to,” she answered, “It’s like a day late, but it’s definitely coming.”

She felt the bed shift a bit as he sat next to her.

“Are you nauseous at all?”

Her brows furrowed, a bit confused by the interest.

“I guess a little,” she answered, because even though it was mild, there was a certain turn in her stomach that wasn’t unlike motion sickness, “But honestly, I think it’s just from the pain. This has been going on for like three days.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

She could’ve laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the reminder of all her futile attempts to alleviate this. Because of course he was looking for a quick fix so they could fuck already.

“I’ve taken everything for it,” she groaned, “Nothing’s working.”

He just hummed in response, and then she could feel the sheets behind her dip a bit as he repositioned himself. Into what orientation, she wasn’t sure. She was about to turn her head back and ask him what he was doing when she felt his hand featherlight across her hip.

And between her legs.

“No, Shigaraki please,” she whined, pulling he knees closer into her chest, “I’m not kidding, I’m seriously in a lot of pain—”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your hand then,” she snapped as his fingers tried to wiggle their way between her clenched thighs.

“I mean I’m not doing anything for me. This is for you.”

“Oh is it now,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he insisted, more irritably this time, “Orgasms help with cramps, right?”

She stilled, sufficiently stumped by that particular statement. Because yes, she could say from experience that they absolutely did. She’d spent many a nasty period with her fingers latched to clit to chase that particular path of relief. 

…but why the hell did Shigaraki know that?

She gasped as she suddenly felt the gentle roll of her clit under three fingers. Apparently, in her moments of distracted deliberation, Shigaraki managed to push his hand past the plush lock of her thighs and under the hem of her panties.

“Sh-Shigaraki…” she whined, pushing her elbow blindly and weakly back towards him.

He caught it gently in his free palm and, rather than trying to pin or strain it in whatever which way he desired, like usual, he just held it there. Didn’t even hold it in place really, just shielded himself against its determined path towards his ribs.

“I’m serious,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, “I’m trying to help you.”

She finally mustered up the strength to — despite how much her aching abdomen hated her for it — turn and glower at Shigaraki.

“No funny business?” she pressed.

He settled his own flat expression on her, “When have I ever been funny?”

More times than she’d like to admit honestly, but she got what he was saying here. He was a pretty serious, straightforward person on principle. He didn’t bullshit, he didn’t pull cheap tricks, and, shockingly enough, he didn’t typically lie. Frustrating as it was, Tomura Shigaraki was pretty much always unapologetically himself and he always did what he wanted.

So if he said that he was doing this to help her, then she supposed that she didn't actually have a lot of reason to distrust him.

Plus, his fingers hadn’t stopped their soft, but affective ministrations between her legs, and the pleasant sparks of heated relief they were sending through her were undeniable.

She turned back onto her side with a sigh that was half-exasperation, half pleasure.

“Fine,” she said, throwing back quickly before he got too victorious, “But fuck around and I’ll kick you.”

Shigaraki just chuckled, a soft throaty sound that shouldn’t have sent the chills up her spine that it did, “Yeah, yeah…”

In one motion, careful not to jostle her too much, Shigaraki both pulled her back and scooched himself closer, until her back was nestled snug against his surprisingly firm chest and her head laid in the crux of his bicep.

With this new closeness he was able to be a bit more deliberate with the angle and pressure he used to rub at her swollen sex. And, while she hated to admit it, the increased blood flow between her legs was causing the pressure within her to build quite a bit faster than usual. Enough so that it had her letting go of the tension in her neck and joints — the automatic stress reaction she had to any of Shigaraki’s displays of intimacy — and letting the weight of her head drop fully into his embrace.

A shuddering sigh left Shigaraki at that clear relinquishing of control, of the way she truly let herself lay back and relax into him. It gave him the encouragement he needed to enjoy her to the fullest extent that he wanted her as well, burying his nose deep into her hair. 

He started to stroke wider circles around her, the flats of his fingers never leaving her clit, but now allowing the tips to dip softly into her entrance. He didn’t push them in at all past his first knuckles, just enough to catch some of that growing wetness and spread it all across her fluttering lips.

“A-Ah—” she gasped out, “Sh-shit…”

“Like that?” he rasped, hot against her ear.

She bit her lip, nodding needily, “Mm— Mm-hmm…”

He groaned at the response, doubling down on that motion as he started to stud long, hot kisses down the back of her jaw and neck. The feeling, so gentle and intimate and good in combination to the way he worked her sex, had her unconsciously rocking her hips into his touch, and back into his own.

Vaguely through the haze, she could feel the familiar outline of his stiff cock against the cleft of her ass, but shockingly he didn’t try to grind it against her for relief. If anything actually, when her own hips moved unconsciously back against it, he actually shifted his own hips away, anglind them down so his erection pushed into the bed instead. As if he didn’t want her to feel it, that he was concerned about her feeling pressured by its presence.

She didn’t have the chance to think too much into that though, not when his fingers were coaxing her closer to the edge by the second. The mess between her legs was obscene at this point, through teary eyes she could see the overflow of it spreading wide across her thighs and pooling down in the sheets. 

“God look at you, so fucking wet,” he groaned, lips having made it down to her shoulder and staying there so that he could have a better view of her writhing under his touch, “You needed this, huh? Fucking needed me…”

She buried her face into his arm to muffle her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but also not wanting him to stop.

By some act of God, Shigaraki didn’t push for that answer either. She wasn’t sure why he’d abandoned his typical demands and taunts, didn’t threaten to stop until she gave him the verbal submission and begrudging praise he always wanted. Nor did she stop to think about why, she just let the gratitude course through her, spurred further and wider by the waves of heat rushing through her body, threatening — promising — to overflow.

Shigaraki could feel that axiomatic tension in her body, the boiling point it promised, and sped up his hand to stoke the flames.

“You’re close aren’t you? Oh yeah, you’re close…” his kisses turned to nips at her neck between progressively more demanding growls, “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Fuck, hearing those last words spill from his mouth should not have done what it was doing to her. But it was speeding up her peak, and it was speeding it up audibly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good, really good. Let it go. Go ahead, be a good girl and let it go.”

She cried out, her arching back forcing her face forward and mouth unmuffled as finally, finally her body went blissfully loose, the pain of the past few days overtaken by waves of heat and pleasure. One after the other, her hormone-driven sensitivity wrung out multiple orgasms, and his frantic fingers were happy to work her through each one until she was begging him to stop.

“Good girl, yeah, yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl,” he continued to praise, returning time and again to that phrase he could feel her getting unconsciously excited over, “That’s my good girl…”

It was just a few blurry moments of consciousness after that. She was pretty sure she whined something like “too much” to him at some point, and he whispered back something that she was sure was just utterly debauched right back. Or maybe it was sweet nothings, he had really favored those by the end of this escapade after all. 

Whatever it all was, she supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered in those seconds of labored breaths and fluttering lashes was the beautiful bliss and relief that finally overtook her body. That allowed her to immediately fall asleep in his arms.

Shigaraki held her there for a long time after. He raked his eyes greedily across her body, letting himself carve every detail deep into his memory. He knew he didn’t need to, not anymore. Her boyfriend, her parents, hell, whether or not she got into Todai with him, it was all a non-issue now. There was no reason for him to lose this anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere in life without him. He was going to be able to revel in this sight for the rest of his life now. And he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was for that.

He chuckled a bit at that. Well, maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. This was all by design after all, weeks of very deliberate planning and deception. It was just like he’d always been taught. It didn’t matter what hand you’ve been dealt — and Tomura Shigaraki had certainly been dealt a shit hand in a lot of ways — a real winner made his own luck. 

Sensei would be mad, Shigaraki knew that much. Everyone would be mad in fact, but he didn’t care. He was just following the fundamental lesson Sensei himself had instilled in him the day they met. 

Take whatever you want, and fuck all the rest.

Several minutes into hearing those sweet deep breaths of unconsciousness from the beautiful girl in his arms, Shigaraki finally peeled his fingers away from her cunt.

And slid a wide hand up to cradle her tummy.

It was dark when she woke up, not a single one of Shigaraki’s many monitors or television lit the windowless room. That was odd for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that the overhead lighting had definitely been on when she’d dozed off. The second of which was that any time Shigaraki wasn’t preoccupied with helping her study or studying her, he was chronically attached to at least one screen, if not multiple, so it was more than a bit odd for him to have zero on. The reason for the lack of blue light however became quickly apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

Shigaraki wasn’t here.

She was totally alone in his room, alone and tucked into his bed. Had he gone to the bathroom or something? But then why would all the lights be off? It seemed like he’d probably been gone for a while. Weird…

She threw off the covers and flipped her legs around with much more ease than she’d done anything over the last three days, much to her relief. However long she’d been out, the sleep had clearly done her some good. The pounding in her head and pelvis had finally ceased, perhaps just in time for her to actually start her period. She did feel some dampness between her legs after all. Although…

Her face heated up as she remembered the much more likely cause of that.

Damn it, she thought with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe that she actually let him do that to her, for her. He was going to get entirely the wrong idea from it. The idea that she might actually like him and want to spend time with him, that there was some kind of connection between them that extended past the time she was required to spend with him to keep him satisfied. And she absolutely could not deal with that.

Being his little sex toy was one thing. A demoralizing thing, yes, but a manageable one. She’d seen the way Shigaraki treated things he objectified — games and magazines and the like. He got bored of them quickly. And if she was one of those things in his eyes, then eventually he’d get bored with her too and she’d be free.

If he was attached to her though? Had found connection in her and a desire to keep her in his life? She didn’t even want to consider that nightmare scenario.

She made her way out into the hallway, looking up and down from the empty bathroom on one end of the hall to the top of the staircase on the other. She didn’t have to contemplate the lack of presence on this floor for long though, when she heard Shigaraki’s voice echoing up from downstairs, talking emphatically to Kurogiri, she assumed. 

She couldn’t hear exactly what he was talking about, but whatever it was, he was being particular about it. “Don’t overcook” and “perfect” were a few of the words she managed to catch, so it was about food, maybe? The accompanying sounds of sizzling pans and clanking cookware would certainly support that. As would the smell that suddenly hit her.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell by any means. In fact, it was salmon, one of her favorites. But for some reason at that moment, the smell hit her with a particular intensity that made her feel overwhelmed.

And really fucking nauseous.

She just barely made it to the toilet at the end of the hall, not even fully down to her knees by the time she was emptying her stomach into the bowl. It wasn’t just a brief moment of sickness either. The bouts were loud and long, she was sure that it echoed throughout the entire apartment. It left her red-faced, skin covered and hair clumped with sweat, not to mention still gagging long after she had nothing left to gag on.

A hand she barely even noticed came to rest on the small of her back in the midst of it all. It was only in the aftermath, spent and dry-heaving that she could process the fact that it was Shigaraki, kneeling at her side, patiently stroking small circles into her clammy skin and encouraging her softly.

“Let it out. Just let it all out.”

She groaned once she finally seemed to have a solid thirty seconds of dry, steady breath. And Shigaraki used that respite to nudge a glass of water into her hands.

“Here.”

She didn’t argue or agree, just took it from him with shaky hands, tossing half of it just into her mouth to swish around and spit the remaining bitterness from her tongue.

 “Drink some of it too.”

She nodded shakily, still too drained and disoriented to be irritated with his telling her what to do, or suspicious of the fact that he was being so nice. 

And still, as she took entirely too long to finish the rest of her water with timid little sips, he just knelt on the ground with her, moving the hand on her back to rest on her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where a bruise would undoubtedly form. 

Finally, after a long, silent stretch, she managed to croak out, “W-What time is it?”

“Only seven,” he answered, “Kurogiri’s got dinner almost ready downstairs. Seared salmon, brown rice, avocado salad—”

She whined, shaking her head roughly at the very implication of food.

“Don’t like salmon?”

“I-I do… It’s just—” she gagged a little as she remembered that smell that had set this all off in the first place, “Th-The smell right now. It’s too much…”

“Oh yeah…” he nodded understandingly, muttering something to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded kind of like, “Heightened” and “Read about that…”

Her brows furrowed a bit, frustrated and confused. She was getting the feeling that he was really not telling her something.

“W-What?”

Shigaraki just waved her off, “No, that’s fine, that’s fine. Salmon’s not the only thing he made. There’s sauteed spinach, wakame tofu soup, toasted—” 

Jesus Christ, was Kurogiri cooking for an army down there or something? 

Well, whoever it was all for, and as delicious as it all sounded in theory, imagining those foods in practice right now was making her feel sick all over again.

“Mm-mm, Mm-mm!” she whined, shaking her head again.

She didn’t want to risk opening her mouth right now, lest she blow chunks all over the front of Shigaraki’s shirt. Although wouldn’t that be a nice little serving of karma for him…

“You need to eat something,” he insisted, more lecturey than she’d ever heard him, but with a strange gentleness to his voice as well, “And you need to drink some more too. You’re totally dehydrated.”

She shook her head more emphatically at that, which only resulted in her falling forward into his chest. 

He caught her before she could fall any further, scolding her not too harshly, in fact, a bit whimsically, “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time?”

She pulled her head back to look at him, a confused furrow in her brows that brought the corners of his lips up.

“It’s not a bad look on you to be honest. All weak and petulant,” he brought a hand to pinch lightly at her cheek, “It’s kinda cute actually.”

Her eyes narrowed, finally feeling her stomach steady enough in her to be annoyed. He chuckled, just as amused and endeared by this look as the last. 

“Well how about okayu?” he offered with a patronizing little lilt, “And maybe some ginger tea?”

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. And infuriatingly, he was right not to. She definitely was in no shape to go home on this empty stomach. 

She sighed.

“Yeah… Yeah okay.”

Going at her own shaking, snailish pace, Shigaraki helped her up onto her legs, pulling her immediately into his side as he led her back towards his bedroom. Normally she’d protest, stick an elbow right into his ribs and storm on ahead of him, but honestly she needed the help right now. So she sucked it up and let him lead her back into his bed. 

But that didn’t stop her from eying him suspiciously as he propped his pillows up behind her and tucked her back in under his comforter, the overall way he doted and fretted over her, even stopping to look back at her one more time from the doorway before he returned downstairs to give Kurogiri the new marching orders.

She dropped her head back against the pillows when finally alone, a bad feeling settling heavier and heavier in her stomach. This was beyond weird, the way he was acting. Sure, the guy was overbearing and constantly demanding of her attention, stupidly needy even. But doting? Not only willing but eager to put her needs ahead of his own? Caring deeply about her actual well-being and not just what he wanted to be her well-being? This was all way too out of character for him.

“…You can tell me. If he bothered you, I mean. N-Not just the Doctor either… If um… If anything’s bothering you.”

She sighed at the memory. Alright, maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. He’d shown at least some capability and even interest in her wants and well-being, he wasn’t a complete monster.

But still, all of this? The cooing and the caring and the, erm, servicing even that he’d done? It felt like too much. Like she was missing something really key about it all.

Like something was wrong .

Whether she ended up getting lost in that train of thought for long, or Kurogiri had already had some okayu whipped up downstairs, she wasn’t sure, but she was startled by how quickly it seemed that Shigaraki returned with a breakfast tray in hand. She cocked her head as he set it up over her lap, this was a lot more robust than she was expecting, and, she realized as she examined everything on the tray, a lot more stocked as well.

There was okayu, front and center for her, yes. But also on the tray was another small bowl of soup (looked like the wakame that Shigaraki had mentioned, a thing of plain yogurt (the really fancy kind that came in the glass jars), a glass of orange juice…

And a little dish of four pills. 

Painkillers or antiemetics maybe? They looked more like vitamins…

“Go ahead and start with the okayu if you want,” Shigaraki explained as he climbed up into the bed next to her, “But I want you to try and get some of the wakame and yogurt down too…”

As he settled down, his legs flush with her own, he continued to rattle off instructions and explanations for the rest of her tray, sending her mind completely spinning, faster and faster, like a goddamn Gravitron.

And she was ready to get the fuck off.

“...if nothing else though, take the vitamins. You need the folate, calcium, iron, and the omega-3 especially, since you don’t want the salmon—”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop !”

Shigaraki paused, having the audacity to look at her like she was crazy for snapping. 

“Jesus—what the hell are you even talking about Shigaraki?!” she demanded, “What’d you say, folate? What? What is all this?”

He cocked his head, clearly playing innocent. Whatever this was, he was clearly enjoying the slow unraveling of it all.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” she snapped, “All this attention and doting and food stuff! What the hell is this all about?!”

He just smiled back at her, taking in how pretty she looked, even when mad (especially when mad sometimes), God, to think that this really was his forever now. He wondered if they had a girl, how much she’d look like her. He hoped a lot…

“I just want to make sure you’re getting all the vitamins and nutrients you need…”

He reached over then, spreading his hand flat against her stomach.

“ Both of you .”

She froze.

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

She tried to speak, tried to ask what the ever-loving- fuck he was talking about, but her mouth had seemed to go dry. She tried several times to open and wet it a bit, but every time she did, it felt like her throat was closing too. It took at least four desperate attempts for her to finally force out one rasped:

“... what? ”

Shigaraki’s grin widened, and he started to rub circles gently across her belly.

“You’re gonna look so cute, all big and round with my kid,” he giggled suddenly as he remembered something, “Oh, and your tits too. I wonder how big they’re gonna get…”

She stared at him, unblinking, unbreathing. Everything but un-fucking-existing.

He couldn’t be serious. He was fucking with her. He had to be fucking with her!

“Th-That’s not funny.”

His grin evened a little, not disappearing outright, but settling away some of its blissful excitement into something more coyly victorious.

“I said it already,” he reminded, “When have I ever been funny?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“N-No. No, no, no this isn’t— there’s no way—”

“I’ve got the tests ready when you need to pee, but I think it’s pretty clear. These are all the symptoms I read about.”

“No!” she insisted, “N-No, no— this is, it’s my period! It’s just a day late, it’s not—!”

He chuckled, “I know the symptoms can be similar, but come on. When’s the last time you’ve hurled like that thanks to your period? And the sensitivity to smell? You know this is different.”

Crumbling, every argument she could possibly think of was crumbling to dust before she could even get the thought fully formed. And cruel, vicious reality was more than happy to take its place.

“B-But my birth control pills…”

“Fertility pills,” he explained, his splitting-grin returning in full, “I would’ve preferred to get Clomid from the doctor, but it looks like the over the counter stuff and tracking your cycle worked just fine.”

Her stomach dropped. Pieces of memories, peculiar behaviors and nagging thoughts she’d had over the last two months falling into place. How there were stretches of times where he’d cancel their sessions, only to insist they make them up a few specific days in a row. How he wanted to go multiple rounds a lot those days. How he’d stopped wanting blowjobs from her entirely. How he seemed to only want to fuck her from behind or with her knees pressed hard into her chest, positions he could fuck her the deepest in.

And how he’d have her stay still with his cock buried in her after he came. 

Back then, she just thought he was being weird and pervy. And in a way she was right.

Horribly fucking right.

Shigaraki shifted his legs away from her so that he could bring his head down to her lap, laying his cheek blissfully against her belly. 

“Was so easy,” he hummed against her skin, “Like your body was just waiting for me to knock you up. Waiting for me to make you mine…”

His hands moved across her body, one coiling behind her back so that he could pull her tighter into him, the other lacing his fingers through her own. The fingers on her trembling left hand.

“Both of you, forever,” he growled happily, a predator who had finally and definitively sunk his teeth into his prey, “All mine.”

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Sneaky Link

Azriel x Reader, Elain x Azriel

Angst - Drabble

Azriel gets off in the pantry of the River House.

Warnings: sexual content, MDNI

His deep laugh is nearly silent yet it sends chills through me. “Just touch your toes sweetheart”

I smirk and do just that, my skirts raised.

“Good girl” he murmurs, sending sparks of electricity shooting straight to my core.

I don’t have time to preen at the praise before Azriel is sheathed within me. Surely the Inner Circle would be scandalized if they knew the Spymaster was fucking “the help” in the pantry. Yet, here we were. His thrusts are hard and I grip the back of my ankles to steady myself from face planting into the shelves lined with sacks of flour and sugar.

“Fuck” I whimper as the crown of his cock brushes my cervix. Azriel’s deep, rumbling chuckle shoots a thrill through me. “Always a sensitive little thing” he whispers.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day” I admit.

“Quiet baby. We don’t want Rhys to know what you let me do to you on the clock. You’re a maid, not a prostitute.”

A calloused, scarred hand reaches forward, covering my mouth. The borderline sadistic Shadowsinger knowing just how much exhibitionism gets me off. I nip playfully at his pointer finger, which he quickly curves inward, pushing back toward the sensitive back of my throat resulting in a gag and corresponding clench of my sex around his ridiculous girth.

He only chuckles darkly again. “Asshole” I mutter and am quickly greeted with a sharp slap to my ass and another to the opposite cheek.

I so badly wish to chastise him but all that escapes me is a throaty moan followed by a curse. “Fuck!”

“Quiet baby” He coos. “Remember, we don’t want your pay getting docked for spending your work day being pleasured.”

“Says the Shadowsinger” I manage to rasp between pants. “Who fucks the help when he should be monitoring what- The smut Nesta reads? What Amren and Varian are up to?”

The only response I’m given is a sharp thrust and a warm, defined abdomen pressed down over my back before sharp teeth bite into my shoulder.

“I said, quiet baby” He warns.

“Never.” I smirk as his pace increases once again.

“Are you this mouthy with the civilians you fuck on your off time?”

He’s the only one I fuck but I refuse to give the arrogant bastard the satisfaction of knowing such intimate details of my life outside of the River House.

Warmth seeps into the pantry, someone’s started the oven in the adjoining kitchen.

“Hush, dove” Azriel’s sultry timbre borders threatening.

I bite back the moan threatening to break free as he once again prods my cervix. My hands thrust back, nails digging into the centuries honed muscle of his thighs.

“Good girl” he growls lowly and my sex flutters around him. His nails dig crescents into the flesh of my ass and I know he’s close.

“You’re going to drip my essence your entire walk home.” A command. No expelling his spend before I leave. No, I’ll walk shamefully yet satisfied with him leaking into my panties as I walk the chilly, dark cobblestone roads of Velaris back to my apartment.

A soft voice echoes from the other side of the door. “The self-rising flour is empty, care to grab some from the pantry?” Elain.

“Yea, my lady” Nuala echoes as she opens the door. Her eyes go wide as Azriel spills into me. She blocks Azriel from Elain’s view, slowly reaching for a bag of self-rising flour. Her gaze heeds warning to Azriel who, as I look over my shoulder gives her a sheepish look. Nuala has become fast friends with Elain. Cerridwen soon after. And Az, he’s been smitten with Elain for cauldron knows how long. His eyes practically dance with stars when he looks at her.

So I pull my panties back into place and adjust my skirts. Azriel exits the pantry first and distracts Elain while I grab my coat and sneak out of the River House and into the night. I splay a hand across the swell of my abdomen, the slight bloat that the Shadowsinger has yet to recognize. When he does, I’ll say it was some cad at a pleasure hall. That’s all he thinks I’m deserving of anyway.

—————————

A/N:

I’m not sure why some sick part of me loves writing Azriel angst but… here we are… again.

ACOTAR tag list: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @ahaha0246

[noirandchocolate]

All the Champions’ demises at the Blights’ hands are tragic, but Mipha’s is forever the one that fucks me up the most when we play BotW because out of the group she is the only one that, one hundred years after the Calamity, should not be dead.

By the time that the game is taking place, Urbosa, Revali, and Daruk would have passed of old age even if things had gone right. But Mipha would still be in her early prime. Not even Queen of the Zora yet! Now that’s not to say her death is more compelling simply because she had a longer possible lifespan ahead of her. All of our companions were taken unjustly, too soon. No, what destroys me about her story every time is that…

Mipha has living family and friends.

The others are celebrated among their people, but only the Zora explicitly have citizens who personally remember their Champion. While Daruk has an entire mountain carved in his likeness, Revali has many admirers among the Rito, and Urbosa’s people speak her name with reverence, Mipha is still actively mourned. By people who knew and loved her.

Her now elderly teachers, who remain angry over her untimely loss. Her young-adult peers who recall playing with her and Link as kids. Sidon, who still wears the whistle he had as a child and who, after you complete the Vah Ruta mission, never tears himself from the plaza before his sister’s statue. King Dorephan, who asks Link about Mipha’s fate, because even after a century, he never fully gave up hope that she might be trapped, but alive.

Mipha should not be dead, but she is, and her death remains a fresh wound.

And she knows it, too. And that’s why, even when her spirit is freed, unlike with the others her story has such an air of melancholy amid the eventual triumph. She looks down upon the Domain from atop Vah Ruta, and…

“Father…are you well, I wonder? I want you to know... I have always followed my heart. I'm sorry I made you worry... I wish I could see you again... Even just once more..."

She could be there. With her father, with her little brother who is so big now, and who is trying so so hard to be like his sister. But she’s not. And she is terribly missed in a way that’s unique among the Champions.

God, it just rips my heart to pieces.

[halfmaskshadow]

This might make sense to no one except me because I played AOC before BOTW, but in my headcanon Master Kohga is underwhelming and goofy and overdramatic and easy to beat on purpose

Like because of AOC it’s canon that the Yiga were once 1. fucking terrifying and 2. much more prevalent. It’s also canon that Master Kohga can and will redeem himself upon seeing the devastation caused by Ganon worshippers

Master Kohga has been around for at least a century and presumably longer, so it’s no stretch that he might become disillusioned with the world the Yiga are trying to form. But he was raised by the Yiga, so obviously any doubts he has have to be wrong, right? It’s only when he sees his worshippers/employees/family be threatened or killed by the very force he wanted to bring about that he realizes the true cost

In AOC he has a very convenient, very human seeming enemy to point at and team up against. In the BOTW timeline, he’s won. Calamity Ganon is free, millions are dead, there’s not enough food to go around, the royals are gone, he has loyal foot soldiers to feed, and he’s supposed to make the situation worse. No sane person is going to want to do that!!

But what can he do? He has no allies and no easy enemies to rally against beyond the very being they had just fought so hard to summon. The natural solution? Become so utterly incompetent that he fails to destroy the world any more. Ohh nooooo!!! We don’t have enough bananas for the winter!!! Well, I guess that the blademasters responsible for burning down orchards and killing farmers will have to go get some more :) Well now that we know Link’s alive we’ll need to dedicate all our troops to catching him instead of murdering civilians or whatever. What a shame :)

Of course he can’t be too obvious, otherwise the other Yiga will catch on. It was a gradual process that happened over the century Link slept. And now that he’s been dumped in a giant pit he doesn’t even need to try to fight the swordsman!! He’d much rather check out that glowing rock over there than teleport up to the surface, thank you very much

[orionlain]

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟: link

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐲𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦, 𝐦𝐚��𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 summary: a tug of war for your affection, between the aftons.

𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞? 𝐍𝐨, 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

How long has it been since he felt your soft body? How long has it been since he traced his calloused fingers against your thighs? How long has it been since he tasted your lips, the lips that fulfilled his hunger? It's been months. But it felt like ages, it felt like centuries to him.

You were so busy, after all, it's your last year of high school. You barely had time to see him, you barely even had time to go to the house. You were so caught up in your studies, so caught up in excelling school that you left the poor old man bothered and wanting. He dreamed of you every night, he replays that memory of you whining beneath him every time he’s alone. For months, you unintentionally made the man more ravenous. And god, you may be the only person that makes him weak.

Other than thinking and craving you, he fulfilled his time with, of course, work. And drinking. And smoking. And berating Michael. His workshop in the basement was hardly ventilated, it smelled like the wisp of smoke and whiskey if you step in. He continues to work with the hinges, the metal parts and the screws. The tools in his hands work like a magic wand as he twists and turns the unfinished animatronics. He was lost in his work, in his creations, in his thoughts about you and your— his son's voice echoed above him.

“Michael, can you shut up will you?” He groaned loudly. As usual his ‘brat’ did not care for his pleas. Out of irritation, he got up from his desk and workshop. He went up the stairs, and the surroundings danced with the thump of his steps.

“Oh for the love of god. Michael, did you hear me, you damn-” He cuts off.

“Uh, Hi. Nice to see you again, Mr. Afton.” How much he missed your voice.

His face immediately softens. Oh, how much he missed your vanilla scent. He could see you in your whole glory. You were in a white sweater which draped on your shoulders, with a brown flowy skirt covering your bottom. Shoes that were creased, had freckles of dirt, but he didn’t mind, not at all. At that moment, thousands of thoughts ran in his mind. How much he wanted to grab you and—

“Father. Are you just gonna stand there and stare? Say hi.” Michael’s blunt tone snapped him out in a second.

“Where's my manners!” He brushes off and smirks. Puts on his most charismatic smile, he walks up and his figure towered over you. He held his hand, for you to shake. The same hand that made you moan. You clear your throat and shake his hand, he could feel your delicate gentle touch, one that he missed dearly.

“It’s good to see you again, darling,” There's that pet name again.

“It really is.. I’m so sorry I haven’t visited for a while.” You uttered, flashing that same smile he always loved. “I’ve been working really hard in school. Didn’t have the time to visit the house, however I’m still talking to Michael-” You cut off, when Michael grabs you by the waist, his hand holding the side of your body. You laughed and pushed him away. “Stop! I’m trying to talk to your dad!”

“Oh c’mon, love, hearing you chat to that old man makes my eyes all droop. Won't you just come to my room already, loser?” Mike whined in a playful tone, with mischief. The older man looked at his son, with a grin, a sore fake grin. William didn’t say a word, but his dark smile went along with the words of: ‘My, my, son, you’ve gotten so bold.’

Bold. He fucking hated that. How he wishes his blood was dumb and stupid, but of course he had to inherit his father's genes. To know every, single, damn, thing. To be so clever to Williams' charm and insincere smile. His son never knew what truly happened, but he was quite perceiving. Sometimes Michael would look at his father with a stare filled with thousands of words and disdain. Sometimes Michael had the blood of competitiveness running through, when he sees you and his old man talking. Like father and son, they say. And with you, it was definitely; like father, like son.

The glint in William's eyes was clear. You didn’t notice though, of course you don’t notice. After all, his honey words were always believable to you, but how he wished this time you noticed. He wished this time you could see that glare, that speaks of how much you were his. But of course you didn’t, and that infuriated him. You were too innocent, which is fine, you were malleable and he could mold into the perfect wife. However, you were malleable, and Michael could easily mold you into a girlfriend. That thought made him infuriated. You made him infuriated.

Yet, you turned to William and smiled. A warm and friendly smile, with that pretty face and pretty hair. No, no, he can’t stay mad at you. How could he? You had a smile that could rival any woman in the bar. You had eyes, so doe, you looked like a little bunny. And that body of yours, oh, how could he stay mad at that?

“I’ll be here for the night, Mr. Afton, is that okay?” Still sweet as he remembered.

“Oh darling. You are always welcomed here.”

———————————————————

The summer heat glistened upon your skin, shining upon every ripple you had. Your eyes sparkled beneath the sun, and you wore a purple swimsuit. Purple? Were you trying to kill him? You didn’t know that was his favorite color though.

Your body rests on top of a beach chair with lavender stripes, sitting in front of the pool of the Afton’s backyard. Turning your head to Michael who was wearing red swim shorts, seeming to be staring blankly, with his walkman cassette player in his ears.

“Mike.” He didn’t respond. You snapped your fingers at him, “I said, Mike!”

“Wha- what?” He took his headphones off. You turn your body to face him, looking at him like an investigator. You pointed at his ear looking quizzically. “Is that.. A piercing?” He had a shit-eating grin on his face, with his eyes turning into a smug look. He giggled, almost school-boy sounding. “Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“Mike!?” He only continued to laugh, holding the cassette close to his chest for stability. He wipes the tears off his eyes. “Hey, it’s not that bad is it?”

You shake your head, laughing a little as you facepalm. Sometimes you never knew Michael was up to, smoking, drinking, vandalizing, you couldn’t tell. He would go weeks without telling you something, or he’d come back after an hour and tell you immediately. There was always something unpredictable about that boy. But you digress, you find his antics amusing and funny.

“What would your dad think?”

“Oh c’mon! It's just a stud in my damn ear!” You look at him even more puzzled. “But- but how did you-”

“In the bathroom.”

“The bathroom!?” You perk up more, now sitting up from your seat. He looked at you, with a smirk, “I was with my mate, Jeremy. I was under some bridge in the middle of who knows what. He got a bowl of hot water, with the sewing needle. And then, womp, pierce my ear by pushing the needle in.” Your mouth went a little agape. You two sat there in silence. Until you burst out laughing.

“Christ, Mike!” You laughed, holding your stomach. “Shush, don’t tell my old man-”

“Tell him what?” You and Michael turn your back to William, hovering over you guys like a hawk. Was he always there? Mike rolled his eyes, his face turning into a more sour expression. He lifted his hands and shrugged up in a surrender.

“Nothin!” He said with a mocking tone, a light smirk. You continue to giggle, but it turns out to be a more silent, hiding one. You looked at the father with a smile, “Hi, Mr. Afton!”

You were always much more polite than him, he thought. Much, much more polite. William put his hand on your shoulder, slowly rubbing it up and down. Your face flushed a little, and your body froze a bit. That touch reminded you back to the memory of his calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist, grabbing you to his chest. That touch reminded you back to the time where he held your face as he put his leg between your thighs. That touch. William had to hold back a chuckle and a grin as he looked at you. Michael, on the other hand, gave his father a funny look.

“What did you say, Michael?” He continued to interrogate.

“I said, nothing. None of your business.” The boy spat back. “No, no, no. Something about a piercing, hm?” You look at their back and forth. Back to Willams’ hand on your shoulder and his face hovering over you, to Michael's annoyed expression and his body in front of you.

“Yeah. A piercing, so?” Williams' chuckle laced with anger and poison could be heard in response to that. “Did I ever say you can have one, boy?”

“What's the big deal about it? Henry told me you were a bit of a frivolous man back in your college years. Why can’t I be ‘frivolous?” He said ‘frivolous’ with his hand making air-quotes, his father raising an irritated brow. “Boot-cut jeans, disco collars, and lots, lots of ladies. I know you’re not just a serious and stuck up man. Please, your dorm room was filled with the moans of-”

“Bloody christ, just check on Evan and Elizabeth for me, can you?” He said in a loud tone, with his fake smile twitching. Michael stood up sighing and groaning loudly, and before he made his departure, he ruffled your hair. Leaving the walkman on the beach chair beside you. You knew a little that they never had a great relationship, but god, did that make you feel uncomfortable. It was as if the tension was tied around your neck like a tug of war. Never once did they swear or yell, but it almost felt like they did. So many words beneath a sentence, hidden by a smile that felt taunting. You had an awkward look on your face, as you saw Michael walk away, staring blankly wishing you knew more what's hiding behind the clear passive aggressiveness between the two. How you wish you knew why there was so much hostility between them. You were lost in thought, but you immediately felt the grip on your shoulder tighten.

You look up, your wide eyes facing William as you bend your neck a little. “Hello, darling.” He said with a smooth baritone in his accented voice. You could never get over how attractive he sounded. As you face him, you take a full look at him. His torso covered in a purple short sleeved dress shirt, you could see the edge of his skin, the springlock marks that traveled on his chest and neck. He could see you take a peak, he grinned a little.

“My son, always a troublemaker, isn’t he?” He laughed afterwards, playing it off with an innocent dismissive hand wave. “Always been a pain in my ass.” He chuckled, saying it like a joke, but his piercing glare and smirk said otherwise. He looks at you now, but with a bit of a less harsh look. “How’s it been?”

You stared at him, that grip on your shoulder not getting any looser. You giggled, and rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah, busy. Sorry I haven’t, uh, visit you.. I was so caught up in my studies, Mr. Afton.” You said softly, while looking at the poolside, staring at the glistening shine of the water. Hearing the laughter of the three siblings, as you fiddled with the straps of your purple swimsuit. “Thought you forgot about me, love.” He says, with a teasing tone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Nono- I didn’t forget about you-” You babbled nervously with your words, but he put his finger to his lips, making a shushing sound. “I’m messing with you, doll. I knew you were just being a good student and studying. Unlike a certain boy I know.” He laughed, but then his eyes went down onto you. “You wouldn’t forget me, not after the time we had.” A heat went down your cheeks.

He bent down to your level, playing with the lavender straps of your swimwear. “Besides, darling, you know I can’t be mad at you.” Humming as he stares at your pretty face. “You’re such a good girl, you know?”, he hushed. His breath close to your neck, his voice warm to your ears. You felt your heart beat faster, as your eyes widened.

“And lord, that bikini looks ravishing on you.” He whispered.

Then he stood back up. His palm on your shoulder becomes much looser. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, and turned his back from you. Giving you a single small wave as he walks away, and leaving you on the beach chair utterly flustered and bothered. He just leaves, and goes back fixing Elizabeth's inflatable toy. Why does he do this to you? Why does he tease and leave you such a mess? The butterflies tighten even more around your stomach, the space in your throat all choked up. And there he is, musing to himself as if he didn’t whisper such things to you. The only semblance of his vulgarity, is his stare from across the pool, that went from your thighs to your chest to your face. It was shameless. You knew it. And he knew it.

“Hey, loser!” Micheals shout rings into your ears, and you snap out of it. He quickly grabs your hand closer to the pool with a playful grin, “C’mon, you can’t just sit there all day.”

“Mike- jeez!” You chuckled softly, and soon Michael wrapped his arms around your arm. He shoves you into the pool with him, both of you falling into the body of water, splashing onto the poolside. Some of the water went onto the younger siblings body, a giggle and whine ensued on them. Most of it, though, flew onto the older man. An irritated smirk formed onto his face, as he swept the water off his hair. You all were in a fit of laughter. But with Michael around you, William hid in a fit of rage. However, he shaked his head and kept a fake smile, continuing to fix Elizabeth's plastic blow-up toy. “Brat.” He mumbled.

You then reached out of the two younger kids, waving your hand to them, a gentle smile on your face. Evan reached the pool slowly, tipping his toes into the water as you gave him a cheer of encouragement. Elizabeth, on the other hand, dived into the tube around her torso, splashing onto your face. “Liz, my goodness!” Your laughter echoed into the backyard as the water ran through your hair, you held her hand as she paddled through the swimming pool. Michael looked at you as you talked to her, to his brother, his smug grin turning into a soft smile. Eyeing you with a look of enderament. Floating in the pool, watching you, admiring you.

“Michael.” The blunt voice called out, the boy turns his head to the older man. “Keep an eye on your siblings. Have fun with your ‘girlfriend’, son.” He chuckled and crossed his arms, the word ‘girlfriend’ sounded almost laced with poison.

“I will.” The boy gave out a passive-aggressive smile

____________________________________

Your hand digging into the bowl of caramel popcorn on the small patio table, stuffing your face full of it. You had a towel on top of your back, as you held your legs into your body. Michael rested upon his chair, staring into the sunset that fell beneath the picket fences in front of you both. His hand was also filled with popcorn, and devoured it quickly. While Liz and Evan had passed out, sleeping on the hammocks. Besides you, was some rickety boombox playing “Boys Don’t Cry” which played with a mild noise while you two rested upon the chairs. You looked at Michael, his face always reminding you of the time that his dad revealed his secret. Where you find out Mike had a crush on you. You hadn’t confronted him about it, you were too awkward to do so.

You both sat there silent. Till you broke the ice. “So.. remember that sleepover where I helped you with homework? Can you tell me why you were late with the teacher?” Michael immediately coughed up his popcorn, and sat up.

“Didn’t I tell you she got her panties in a twist?” He said with a dismissive wave. You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah I know, but that's not it, is it?”

He paused for a moment, and sighed, he put his head to the side in a somber tone. Your face softens and you give him a look of sympathy. Tilting your head to the boy beside you. “You know, you can tell me, right? That's what best friends are for.” He groans and shakes his head in a sad smile, but he gives in.

“Bout my grades.” He uttered. “I mean, it's no big surprise, since I’m quite the hassle to deal with. Bound to have shit grades.”

“But uh..” He took a moment and continued on, “Teacher came up to me and the first time I wasn’t getting yelled at. She went up to me and was like: what's home like?” He stared into the sunset slowly fading into the horizon, the red and the purples mixing with one another.

“First time I was ever vulnerable.” He turned his head and looked at you, with an awkward look on his face.

“Don’t like home. It’s not warm.” He didn’t further elaborate on that.

You sighed, but smiled at Mike. Patting him on the back with your gentle and dainty touch. You run it back and forth, giving him a bit of warmth. His eyes immediately lightened up, and he laughed. His mood, lifting up just from your hands. “I have a lot of friends. Yet, a nerd like you takes the cake.” He says, with an amused tone, you chuckled in response. “I know. But I hope you know this nerd is always here to listen.” You said, he scoffs but it was clear he smiled softly.

Another silence goes between you two.Then you’ve curiously look at him, “Are you still with Sarah?” He gave a cringed expression on his face and ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous manner. “Ehh..”

“Are you serious? This is the second girl of the month.” You pestered, scolding him with a baffled smile on your face. “It just didn’t work out, alright! It's ok— I mean, she moved on fast. Saw her with a guy the next day.”

You facepalm and shake your head. “What’s your type anyways?” Oops! You shut your mouth instantly, knowing you slipped out a stupid obvious question. You already knew Michael liked you, ever since William revealed his secret in the last sleepover. Yet, here you are beating around the bush. Cringing at yourself, wishing you had confronted Michael earlier if he had a crush on you or not. But it can’t be, right? Every girl in your guys’ highschool had the hots for your best friend. There was not a chance, right? You can’t ask that question. How would you put it into words that weren’t an awkward jumbled mess?

“Eh.. man I don’t know.” He answered plainly, and he was silent afterwards. Until he abruptly said, “A nice girl.”

“A nice girl?” You tilt your head at his answer. He rolled his eyes at you with a bit of a chuckle that left his mouth. “Yeah, I mean, what? What did you expect?”

“Well.. I just, you know. I thought there may be more.” You responded, shrugging your arms. You continued on, “I mean most guys give you a list of what they want in a girl.”

“What? You thought I'd give you a list?” He laughs, now putting a piece of bubblegum into his mouth. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind if she's hot, then I got something to ogle at. But.. a nice girl is– well nice. I wouldn’t even mind if this girl was a bit of a geek.” He responded, chewing the gum in his mouth.

“So you would go out with a nerd.?” You looked at him, raising your brow. “I guess.”

You giggled at his response, holding your stomach a little. “I can’t imagine it!” You mutter in between your laughter, while Michael turns his head and lets out a huff. Crossing his arms, while he rolled his eyes again. “Piss off, cunt.” He nudges at you playfully. But he quickly retreats back on laying on his chair, and gives a small sigh.

“Sometimes you remind me of my mum.” He says quietly, but you still hear his sentence. You still laughed, but it was slowly dying out as you saw Michaels gaze. Filled with admiration. You both stare at each other for a moment. Not a single word coming out of your mouth. Not a single noise between you two. But just from his stare, you could feel yourself becoming a bit rosy. You had the chance to say something, and break the tension, confront him about if he has feelings for you—

He stood up, and dusted off his swimsuit shorts. “I think I’m gonna clean up now.” He sighs, while stretching his back a little. He then went towards his younger siblings on the hammock, shaking them a little. “C’mon time to wake up. Or else father’s gonna be all up in my ass again.” Aggravated, pushing them a little. The two wake up all groggily, dragging their feet on the ground as Evan went back into the house trailing his bear plushie on the ground, while Elizabeth rubbed her eyes with her arm as she mumbled an insult towards her older brother.

Michael looks back at you, as you were sitting on the chair. He puts his hand on the top of your hair, ruffling a little. You groaned as he does while he pops his bubblegum. The boy leans toward you a little, and gives you a small smile, gentle and soft. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He says, and plants a kiss on your cheek. He then faced away from you, but you could see a red tint on his face.

Your best friend then goes back into the house. While you sat on the beach chair, taken aback. Mouth agape. Did he just blush? Did he just kiss you, on your cheek?

But before you could fully grasp what happened, you felt a tug on your strap. You gazed at the movement, and soon enough you felt the familiar touch on you. “Darling.” That pet name, which is all so memorable to you. You see the older man, who is suddenly behind you. His steps and body are so quiet, it almost made you think of how he’s so fit for a criminal. You quickly sit up from his presence, as if he commands you to pay attention to him. You look at him, bug-eyed. “Yes?” You bumbled with your response. He always found it so cute that you were always so nervous around him. A fawn so delicate and fragile, a bunny so tense and afraid.

He circled around you like a shark, putting his two fingers around his shoulder, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Only until now, you realize how uneasy he made you feel. You could almost feel your hands slightly tremble. He gazed at you like some wolf waiting to feast on a lamb, like some fruit waiting to be opened and tasted. An uncomfortable silent pause before he says his next word, he then bends down to your chair facing you eye to eye. His gray eyes pierced right through, but oh, he had such a gentle grin on his face. It was so contradictory. His smile was so sweet, yet his eyes and cold touch on your shoulder said less. It lured you right in.

Most people, when you look into their eyes– there would be a bit of a sparkle of light. You found nothing but an empty pupil. Although, it didn’t feel intimidating. Yet. “Still looking pretty as ever.” He traced his thumb on your face, while you sat there silently, helpless.

“Uhm. Thank you, Mr. Afton.” You responded, as a way to fill the silence, to fill that restless feeling in you. You didn’t bother to look away and turn your face to the side, you fear something bad will happen if you do. “Darling.. Would you mind if I ask a question?” He asked, but it’s almost like he would still inquire if you said no. You shake your head, signing to go ahead.

“Do you like Michael?” He asked, still rubbing his thumb on your cheek. You paused at first, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” He repeated, and chuckled. But that chuckle was unnerving. He still traced his thumb over your cheek but more slowly this time. Almost tauntingly. “Yeah I don’t think.. I do.” You said, but then your eyes went towards the house.

“Are you sure?” William teased, but it hid a dark intention behind his words.

You look at Michael, seeing him through the window. He was watching TV, while bothering his little brother. He looked alot alike to his father, but much more softer. His skin is more tanner, his face less hollower. His hair messy, unstyled and spiked cuffs around his wrist, his usual jean jacket around his body. He had eyebags, just like William but it wasn’t so sunken. He had more of a boyish look to him, amateurish and juvenille. You can admit, he was good looking. He was attractive, even. And he's alway been nice to you, always been more softer with you than anyone else around him. And he’s always been sweet, always had a laugh that made you smile.

He was good to you, good for you, maybe you do like– “Look at me.” You then felt your face forcefully grabbed. Your cheeks almost squeezed, as your eyes squint in pain. William's eyes were harsh, even cruel looking as he stared into you. “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

“I said. Don’t look at him. Look at me.” You immediately complied, and gazed at him back. Your breath almost caught up in your throat, and your eyes all nervous and wide. He had a scowl on his face. “Do I have to repeat myself, hm?” He said, a tone laced with malice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He put a finger near your lips, in a shushing motion. “Listen here darling. I know, I know, Michael is your best friend. But I don’t think he's good for you.” He says, honey-like, his words soothing and smooth. There was a glint in his eyes as he said it.

His finger then traced down to your throat, and softly tugged at the ribbon of your lilac swimsuit between your cleavage. He was playing with it. Teasing it. “He’s not good for you.. No, no, no, not at all. I don’t want your soft little heart broken, it’s not meant for a harsh boy like him.” He tutted. “He’ll use you.. You know how teenage boys are.” He said it like a fact.

“Will you believe me, sweetheart?” He patted your cheek, in such a sickly sweet manner. “Will you believe me, when I say he's no good for you?” You paused before you spoke, but his words sounded so genuine, so heartfelt. You nodded your head softly. Still so malleable, how he loved that.

“That's right. What a good girl.” He hummed from your response. “Now, I think it’s time for you to get cleaned up. Hm?”

“Yes. Mr. Afton..” You responded, and he chuckled a little from how quiet and nervous your pretty voice sounded. His scowl turned into his usual polite smile. He then took your hand and made you stand up on the ground, drying the wet hair with a towel. Patting you on the back, as he moves you back into the house. How easy.

[undertheorangetree]

To Be Alone With You

Summary- Osferth becomes infatuated with a healer from the continent.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Osferth's got a big old crush. Like he’s down bad. Blood. Minor injuries. Shoddy knowledge of 10th century healing. Blasphemy. Admittedly more plot than porn. Cunnilingus. Masturbation. P in V sex. Against a wall in a church no less.

Author's Note- The fact that Osferth canonically fucks and is good at it to the point where women fight over him lives in my mind rent free. Anyway read the rest on ao3 link is belowww

dividers by me lmao

Osferth likes to think that he's different now. Or at least, that he has changed since first joining Uhtred. He's grown further into himself- his confidence, his ability to be a warrior, that he himself has changed as a whole. He's stronger now and though he still values his faith, it does not feel so all consuming, an anchor around his throat forever reminding him of his bastardry. He is proud of the man he has become, of the one that he continues to grow into, and it feels right that, over time, he has changed for the better.

But he seems to forget all that the moment he lays eyes on her.

She had arrived with a traveling priest from the continent, one who had come with the intention of spreading the word of God to the infamously heretical ealdorman. And though she traveled with a priest and his retinue, she wore no habit. Her hair was loose, catching the waning rays of the sun and he felt his heart stutter in his chest when he caught the colour of it shining in the light. She had caught his eye then, as their little ship docked, and smiled at him so brightly he felt himself fall back into the boy he once was, the cursed baby monk.

Though Uhtred had wanted to throw the whole group out at the first sign of a sermon, he agreed to give them a night in the inn out of respect for how long they had been traveling- after they had paid a small fee, of course- and Osferth had managed to catch her in the tavern later that night.

The words had caught in his throat the moment he tried to speak, but Finan had been with him and it had been easy for him to ask if they could join her and begin a conversation. He had nursed his mug of ale while they spoke, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her further, and joined Finan in highlighting all that Coccham had to offer. Finan had quickly become drunk, but they had found a joint amusement in that and he had revelled in every smile she cast his way. They learned that she was the priest's healer, having studied in Frankia before deciding to join the priest in order to see what the world had to offer. She told them of her travels to Burgundy, Provence, and the Northern Byzantine Empire, regailing them with stories Osferth could only dream about. Uhtred had joined them midway through the conversation, allowing Osferth the opportunity to join her on her bench, their arms brushing against each other.

By the time morning came, the priest had gone and she had stayed on as their healer. Uhtred offered her a cottage and the promise to retrieve everything she could possibly need. He had grinned at Osferth the moment she turned her back on them, raising his eyebrows playfully, and he had felt his face begin to burn from how obvious his immediate infatuation must have been.

At first, he simply admired her from afar. Though he is proud of all the progress he has made to become the man he is now, that all seems to melt away when he is around her. More often than not, he stumbles over his words when he tries to speak to her, face burning scarlet and heart beating faster in his chest. It is clear that the others know of his infatuation, as they do everything in their power to facilitate some kind of interaction between them. Inviting him over when they are speaking to her, offering her his assistance whenever she needs it. Finan had gone so far as to shove him in her direction whenever he felt like causing trouble, though thank God he had only stumbled into her once. She had done little more than laugh then but he had avoided her for two days out of sheer humiliation.

It is safer to simply keep his distance. Though he enjoys talking to her- more than enjoys it, if he is honest with himself- he does little more than embarrass himself when he tries. He wants more, he wants everything, but for now he will settle for admiration. Distance.

It seems kinder. To both himself and her.

He can see her now, walking back to her cottage with a basket full of herbs and flowers she must have picked nearby the river. There is a woman walking with her, one he doesn't know well enough to know her name, but they are laughing as if they are close friends. The other woman reaches out to rest a hand on her arm and he watches longingly as she raises her own to clutch at the other woman's fingers. He cannot hear what they're saying over the echoing clack of the wooden swords the boys are using to practice- a sparring match he is admittedly supposed to be monitoring- but she has a pull on him he can't quite explain and he can’t bring himself to look away.

It comes with consequences.

Read the rest here

[nocasdatsgay]

Droit du seigneur

For @sjmvillainweek Day 7

Pairing: Nesta/Beron | Word Count: 3079 | Rating: E

Summary: Eris and Nesta are getting married but that comes at a cost: tradition stipulates that the High Lord gets the bride first.

CW: sex, degradation language, Beron’s POV, magical coercion

A/N: I couldn’t do all of villain week but I whipped this up joking about Nesta planning to kill Beron but she forgets cause he fucks her brains out. Anyways Beron does not make it at the end of this fic. You’ve been told.

Alternate Title: Beron Fucks Okay | Ao3 Link | Read Below

Tags: @mybestfriendmademe @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir Divideer by @tsunami-of-tears

“It’s Autumn Tradition, bound by magic.” Beron said, his expression mostly blank as he explained to Nesta and Eris what to expect on the wedding night. “Archaic but still tradition.” 

Nesta furrowed her brows, glancing at Eris. “What of the Lady?”

Beron answered first. “You are not the first bride I’ve been forced to entertain. She’s had centuries to cope.” 

Beron watched his son take her hand and squeeze it gently. Disgusting display of weakness. 

“The magic doesn’t give a choice, Nes,” he whispered to her. “Right father?”

“Correct.” The lie fell from his lips with ease. “I’ve spent centuries trying to undo it. I have yet to have any luck. I promise Lady Archeron, this will be more unpleasant for me than it will be for you.”

She lowered her gaze. “I understand.” 

Beron smiled, magic binding between them with her acceptance. “Go and enjoy the rest of your day. The wedding will be over soon enough and we can put this behind us.” 

🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

The next evening, Beron watched his son’s new wife dance across the floor, unable to turn away from the display she and his son were putting on. Despite her unfortunate  perigee, she was captivating. Nesta Archeron was born human but he could see she was meant for this life of a high fae. The cauldron had chosen well.

He ignored his wife beside him, her sorrow perforating the air around them. She was always dramatic. He didn’t understand her current grief. She had never cared who he bedded. He never cared who she bedded until the stupid slut got pregnant with a bastard child. That male’s bastard no less. Beron took a sip of wine to calm himself. 

Sometimes he wished he’d killed her and the babe in her womb centuries ago. The embarrassment alone was enough to warrant it. But he was merciful; just like he would be tonight. Applause erupted as the song ended. He clapped and watched Nesta’s slim figure get twirled about by his son as the band started again. Her sultry silver eyes found his while they danced to a slower song. 

He would definitely have his fun with her. 

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Beron left the party first. 

Tradition was he would wait in his chambers to give the court time to wind down. It was also to save the embarrassment of the bride leaving with the High Lord. He changed into a robe; there was no sense in being fully clothed when Eris brought his bride in. Beron would pretend to be sorry but in truth he took great pleasure invoking this right as High Lord. 

He was but a simple male after all. 

He poured himself a drink while he waited from his personal locked cabinet. He contemplated sitting when a knock came to the door. He swirled his drink once and downed it. It made him chuckle as he sat the glass back down. Someone, be it Eris or Nesta herself, was eager to get this over with. 

“Enter,” he said loudly. 

Beron absolutely hated the way the door creaked open and Nesta slipped in. He hated that slip of a gown she wore- Night Court fashion. It covered her body but what good did it do if he could see her tight waist and slim hips silhouetted in the silky white fabric. He felt his jaw tick as she stepped forward. 

“Don’t you look lovely,” Beron glanced over her again quickly. “Would you like a drink for your nerves?” 

“No,” Nesta said flatly, sharp eyes narrowed on him. She crossed her arms against her chest, increasing the lift of her breasts. 

He frowned. “Just because you are my son’s bride does not excuse you from manners. You will address me as your High Lord.”

She scoffed. “No, my High Lord. I do not want a drink. I want to get this over with.”

“Then turn around.”

He stared and watched as she furrowed her brows. She hesitated, confused for a moment before turning her back to him stiffly. Beron raised a brow. He’d never seen a female fight the magic before. He walked up and traced his fingers along her neck and down her spine to the start of her dress. 

“What have you done to me?” She whispered.

“I did nothing.” He began to undo the buttons of her dress. “We made a deal in my study yesterday. I don’t fuck unwilling participants.” 

He finished with the buttons and pushed the gown down. It slid off her gently, pooling in a pile at her feet. He traced the muscles of her back with his finger tips. She was well toned; probably the Night Court beast's doings. His gaze lingered on her silky white undergarments. With a wave of his hand, he removed them and banished her undergarments to a pocket realm. 

“What did you do? Those are mine!” Nesta turned to look at him. 

“And they’re mine now.” He grinned. “I only get you once. I need something to remember you by.” 

She scrunched up her nose at him but didn’t remark further. Beron noted didn’t hide herself from him as she faced him fully. Not a maiden then. He should have known a female from the Night Court wouldn’t be pure. It didn’t matter; it was too late to back out. She waited while letting him take in her figure. She was stunning. 

“Get on the bed,” he said with feigned indifference.  

With an air of defiance, she walked over to the bed. Nesta got on her hands and knees, stopping to look over her shoulder. 

“How would you like me, High Lord?” 

“On your back.” 

She had the audacity to pout at him. She moved about and laid back on the bed. Beron embedded the image of her sprawled out on his duvet. He didn’t take off his robe when he joined her. She reached for the belt on his robe but he swatted her hand. 

“You do not touch me unless I say you can.” 

She looked up at him from her lashes and bit her lip like a whore. “Yes High Lord.” 

He sat up and undid the belt on the robe. If he had his way he would bind her with it. Her eyes roamed over his body and he sneered at how she licked her lips. 

“What am I to do with you?” His own gaze dropped down to her breasts. They looked so heavy with their puckered nipples begging to be lavished. “Do not move until I tell you to.” 

She nodded wordlessly. He crawled over her and hovered above her. The rules did not allow kissing. He could fuck her to his completion once. When he withdrew his spent cock was when it was over. However, Beron was old and he’d pushed the boundaries of the magic enough to know the loop holes. He reached out, dragging a finger along her collarbone then reaching out to cup her breast. They were bigger than his wife’s. Prettier too. Nesta gasped when he palmed at it. The way he wanted to grasp it harder- squeeze it tight in his hands while she moaned. 

Instead he leaned down and took the other with his mouth. She mewled when his tongue and thumb flicked at the soft buds. He sucked and her hips jerked. He pulled back to see his work- her nipple hard and fully peaked. The dark skin around it glistened with his spit. He leaned back in and kissed the skin between her breasts. Her scent was sweet and thickening with arousal; he moved down a little and groped both breasts. He kissed and his fingers worked her nipples. Nesta was breathing heavily but without complaint. 

“Good girl,” he murmured. 

He finally let her go and moved down the bed, positioning himself between her legs. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and he could smell how badly she wanted it, the fucking whore. He did his best not to roll his hips into the mattress like a youth. 

“What are you doing?” She whispered. 

“Did you think I would be cruel and just take what I had to from you?” He held her legs open and kissed along her pelvis. “I’m not an uncivilized male, my Lady. I do believe in a female’s pleasure when she’s earned it.”

He looked down and spit on her cunt. He enjoying the way her legs jerked in his hold and his saliva slid down her folds. She inhaled sharply when he leaned down to lap it up. He had a weakness for good pussy, and the smell of her alone was making strain in his underpants. A low rumble escaped his throat at the taste of her. 

He dipped his tongue down to the wetness at her entrance and hummed contently. The Law of Magic didn’t allow him to kiss her on her lips. So instead he worshiped her cunt. He got lost in the taste of her, lightning jolting down his spine at the idea of smelling those under things later. She was the perfect mix of sweetness and musk that drove him insane. 

He kept his hands on her thighs while she squirmed under him. Her soft pants and cried music to his ears. He groaned, dipping his tongue in and out of her; he mouthed and sucked on that taunt nub peeking out between her folds. He hadn’t even realized she came until he felt her hands pushing at his head. He stopped immediately, snatching her hand and sitting up to glare at her. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” his voice was colder than he truly felt. 

He knew she was a defiant one. He wanted to see what she would do. Nesta was panting, cheeks and chest flushed a nice pink. 

“It was too much,” she whispered. 

“Was it?” He dropped her hand. “A pity. l don’t care.”

“I just wanted-.” 

“I don’t care what you want. You are mine until I am done with you.” He yelled and slapped her cunt hard, hand stinging. And she moaned like the whore she was. “Behave and I might let you cum again. Do you understand?”

She nodded with no fear in her eyes. He grinned and shrugged off his robe while she watched. Her eyes widened with lust and he sneered. Females were all the same, eyeing his cock hungry with want as he took off his own undergarments. The things he wanted to do to Nesta- bind her in fire. Stuff her mouth so her cries would be muffled. He wanted to fuck her throat where she laid so badly his cock wept at the thought. 

She was lucky he was restricted by magic. 

He positioned her how he wanted her and she let him. He pushed her back on the bed, lifting up her legs in his arms. He looked between them and committed to memory how pretty her cunt looked, begging to have a cock put in it. His hard cock hovered in front of it. He wanted to smack her cunt with it but refrained from such juvenile antics. He let go of one of her legs to stroke himself with a groan. 

Another deep rumble left his throat. He lined himself up and pushed into her. It gave him a thrill to know she was too tight to have been bedded by those night court beasts with wings. He moved her legs onto his chest, throwing them over his shoulders. Beron decided he would take his chances trying to breed this female below him. She’d make a strong heir; stronger than that boy waiting outside the chambers. 

She didn’t speak when he placed his hands on the headboard to steady himself. Then the first rock of his hips made him let out a shaky groan. The warm, tight grip around his cock felt like a blessing from the mother. A sign. She reached up and held her own legs steady like a seasoned slut.

“You must be a witch,” he whispered, staring down at her. “For your cunt to feel like a maiden’s.”

She flushed and averted her eyes. “Does it displease you, High Lord?”

“That you’re a whore?” He pulled back and slammed into her. “No. Makes you easier to fuck.” 

Beron didn’t do much more talking after that. He found his pace, enjoying the feel of her until he couldn’t take it anymore. He normally rolled over by now and made the females do the work. But the sight of Nesta below him was too much. He pressed her legs back further with his chest, driving down into her with the slapping of skin echoing in the room. He hadn’t felt this type of frenzy in centuries. 

“I’m going to fill you up, girl,” he grunted and she cried out. Her cunt squeezed his cock and gods he was close. “You’d like that, you fucking whore. You’d like to bear me a bastard, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Nesta’s hands abandoned her legs and reached behind her, digging her fingers into the pillows. Her eyes fluttered as he kept hitting that spot deep inside her. “I’ll do whatever you want, High Lord.”

He growled, grabbing her by the neck with one of his hands. “Then cum on my cock, you stupid slut.” 

He could feel the fire in his eyes flare as he used his high lord powers to command her. Beautiful creature that she was, she screamed, her back arching and she throbbed around him, pulling him in as deep as he could go. He let go of her neck, to grab the headboard again and slammed into her one last time with a bruising force. He damn near choked with pleasure as he emptied himself inside her. 

He rolled off of her panting. He hadn’t fucked like that in decades. She, too, laid beside him catching her breath. After a few moments, he went to tell her to leave but she sat up moving over him. Some of her hair was loose, framing her face nicely. Her eyes were blown with lust as she placed a hand on his chest. 

“Can I?” She asked. 

Beron narrowed his gaze, uncertain of what she was asking. She bit her lip and gently drug a nail on his chest. Then she flattened her hand and drug it down while she slid down his body. She kept her gaze on him when she grabbed his spent cock and licked the head of it. The muscles in his leg twitched. When he didn’t say anything she continued. He watched her lick the cum off his cock until he was hard again. She kept those sultry hard eyes on him and took him into her mouth. Magic made it so he couldn’t fuck her again until she left the room are you done but nothing was stopping her if she wanted to continue to whore herself out to him. 

“What a needy little bitch you are,” he muttered. 

They both moaned as she took him down deep into her throat. He cursed again, both amazed and annoyed at her lack of gagging as she continued to bob her head and stroke what she couldn’t take. He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her down just to make her gag. The sound made his eyes roll back and he let her go. 

“Stroke me until I cum on your face.” 

It wasn’t a command; he just wanted to see if she’d actually do it. And fuck, if she didn’t look like goddess pulling back with her tongue out as she stroked him. He came again, painting her face and tongue. 

“Beautiful,” he muttered. “Put your dress on and get out.” Nesta blinked in a daze. “Get. Out.” 

In shock she stumbled off the bed frantically looking for her dress. Her compliance amused him. She was not as strong headed as she seemed. He watched her, scowling as she used the skirt of her dress to wipe off the cum on her face. She struggled with the back, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Today girl. Out!” 

She started and abandoned her efforts. He chuckled as she scurried out like a little rat, leaving him to think about how he was going to get his hands on her again. 

🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Nesta stumbled out of the room, thighs and face still sticky and dress half done up. How had Beron of all males been the one to fuck her stupid? She forgot where she even was, focused on leaving the room because he told her too. The door shut and she found Eris was scowling by the sofa. His eyes and hair were glowing, anger showing itself in the flames. 

“I understand,” she said, breathing heavily. She looked back to the door dazed. “I understand now why there are seven of you.” 

“Did you forget something?” He hissed. 

Her cheeks flushed as she turned back to Eris. “He took them. I didn’t have a choice in the matter but to walk out in just my gown.”

“He’s alive Nesta.” 

“Oh. Right.” He didn’t mean her under garments. He meant the deal they made. She furrowed her brows, unable to focus with her core still aching between her legs. “Gods, do you all fuck like that?”

Eris let out a growl. “Go bathe. I’ll do it myself.” 

Eris would deal with her and the Night Court after he became High Lord. Nesta was lucky they didn’t make a bargain over this. He pushed all thoughts away, letting his rage take hold. He pulled a dagger out from his pants leg and threw open the door. He found his father, naked, laying on the bed. He averted his eyes, focusing on the bed frame. He scowled when he saw scorched marks on the top of the wood in the shape of hands. 

“Eris,” Beron pulled the duvet over himself. 

“Did you enjoy my bride, father?” Eris held his hands behind his back to conceal the dagger. He approached the bed slowly but his father only laughed. 

“By the cauldron, you picked a wild one. She fucks like a well seasoned whore. I might annul your marriage and keep her for myself.” 

“And what of mother?” 

Beron scoffed. “She’ll enjoy the reprieve.” 

Eris stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes noticeably wild. 

“I’m sure she will.” 

That was the last thing Beron heard before Eris stabbed him and cut out his heart. 

[gender-trash]

(i am seriously late in posting about this due to The Problems BUT whatever! its here now!!)

somewhere around late november 2022, i asked my dad "hey are there any out of print technical books you'd like a reprint of for christmas?"

he linked me to a dubious black-and-white pdf of Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy. now, i wound up checking out a copy through link+, and the original edition is a really nicely put together book! the chapters are themed around various types of measurements (length, angle, etc), and they all have these cute little diagrams which the endpapers reuse in a lil repeating pattern... the image captions are done in this really lovely dark red that did not scan for SHIT... tons and tons of diagrams and illustrations and images (both color and b&w)... just, all around, a fucking nice book!! (see also @morrak's post about it here.)

and that made me feel kind of bad about the crappiness of the pdf, which is where the Problems began. i used my phone to take pictures of all the photos and color diagrams in the original and went about replacing them in the pdf, using what turned out to be the world's worst pdf editing software (i also got through replacing all the image captions in chapter 1 of 5 before my dad convinced me to give up). i did NOT finish the pdf editing before christmas 2022 (i was going somewhat off the deep end, because both my housemates were away visiting family and i had zero external structure in my life so it was just me and my cat and this stupid FUCKING pdf wrecking my sleep schedule together); i poked away at it for most of the rest of my time off and then got so goddamn sick of it i put the project away for months. "it'll be a birthday gift instead", i said optimistically (my dad's birthday is in april! it should have been enough time!)

gentle readers, i did not finish the pdf editing by april. mostly because it was such a miserable slog that i put it off until the last possible moment and then tried to make up for it with another death march.

hating both myself and the project again, i decided i was Not going to let myself typeset Anything Else before it was done, and then took a break to bind my immortal (using the renegade publishing typeset! i didn't do any typesetting!!). SURELY, i said, i can finish this in time for christmas 2023.

i'm sure you know where this is going.

in my defense i DID finish the pdf editing by christmas, despite first doing every other possible procrastination project (including a second edition of the little second century warlord book), because by this point my dad had managed to convince me to lower my standards. on the evening of the 22nd i kicked off the print job and said to myself "this will finish printing overnight and then tomorrow i can work on sewing the textblock!"

late on the 23rd, after lots of babysitting and using at least one cartridge of every color ink in my printer, the print job was finally done. (my sweet and lovely cat wants SO BADLY to hunt and stalk the printer while it is printing -- more specifically, the printed pages, i think because they tend to make noise and move and then STOP moving. for this reason, the printer is kept in the craft room, because the cat can be shut out of the craft room and thus prevented from chewing on the pages when i have an all-day book printing job going. unfortunately the craft room was also being pressed into service as a guest room at the time so 80% of the floor space was consumed by an air mattress which i had to repeatedly trip over in order to reach the printer and replace the ink cartridges.)

then i went to my parents' house on the 24th and 25th and apologized to my dad (again) for not having the book finished. but this worked out well because we finished putting together my awesome new book clamp:

(the feet still aren't done being painted so they're just dry-fit on for now but you can still clamp books in it and that's what matters!!)

i came home, sewed the textblock (french link stitch over four linen tapes, with sewn endbands made of variegated embroidery floss over linen cord, and kozo paper glued over the spine)

... and promptly realized i SHOULD HAVE PUT IN MORE OF A GUTTER because some of the text was getting reeeeeeal close to the spine. "it's fine!" i said. "i just have to make sure it lays flat!! what better time than to try out K118 binding, a technique i have literally never done before and which people on the bookbinding discord notoriously have a hard time pulling off first try! i even have tyvek tape for it!"

so it turns out that tyvek tape isn't actually tyvek with glue on it, it's tape FOR attaching pieces of tyvek TO EACH OTHER, which maybe i could have guessed if i'd done even the slightest amount of research or planning. at this point i think it was the 27th and i was still angling to get this thing done by new year's, so no time to order Actual Tyvek.

fortunately, i had ALSO received An Package in the mail with yarn for a totally unrelated knitting project... shipped in a tyvek envelope.

i peeled all the shipping labels and stickers off my tyvek envelope, cut that shit up, and glued it on there.

and THEN it was time for gluing on covers, which i thought was going to be easy because i had actually thought ahead and ordered materials (specifically acid-free museum board), except when i cracked open the box of museum board i decided i Didn't Like It because the surface was too soft and easily dented, so i glued onto it the too-thin board material i'd previously been using (so that the cardboard goes on the outside of the book). this worked super well (the cardboard stuff has a tendency to curl up from the glue moisture, but the museum board doesn't!) and i'll probably use it on other stuff in the future.

i thought the blue bookcloth i used was kind of boring but i showed my dad the available cloth options and he really liked it, so... what do you know? i cut the piece i used on the back cover very slightly too short but it wound up being covered by the leather, so you can barely tell.

and the leather... a scrap just baaaaarely big enough from my bag of leather scraps from discount fabrics... and this the first time i'd ever attempted to put leather on a book... AND YET the only complaint i have is that i didn't manage to put an even amount on the front and back. it's reasonably square and straight!! amazing!!

i am super super happy with how this project came out (especially given the number of problems i encountered) and oh my god check out how much the spine bends

AND, AS A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT, I FINALLY MANAGED TO GIVE IT TO MY DAD

[vixstarria]

Communication

Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.

This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.

Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!

Read on AO3

Astarion x named f!Tav

Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time they actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.

Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst

TW: some very casual violence and murder

Approximately 3.9k words. 

“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Asmodea. “Let’s go!” 

The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area. 

“Go where?” she asked.

“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.” 

“Now..?”

The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.

It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.

“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”

Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.

“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Asmodea.

It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.

“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Asmodea asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before. 

“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”

He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Asmodea smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.

“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.

This… This was new, particularly in public, and Asmodea bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him. 

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning. 

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.

“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.

Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Asmodea told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.

“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”

“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Asmodea. 

“Do indulge me.” 

“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.” 

“Such as?” 

“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered. 

“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?” 

“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh. 

Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit. 

“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.” 

She said the first phrase that came to mind.  

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Asmodea knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.  

“So let’s start with what you think you just said.” 

“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Asmodea gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?” 

“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?” 

“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Asmodea said thoughtfully. 

“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.

“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.” 

Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.

“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Asmodea. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.” 

They found a place to sit down.

“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Asmodea.

“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”

“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Asmodea asked quietly.

Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question. 

“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a Tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.

“Will you stay with me when all this is over?” 

Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes. 

It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like. 

“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive. 

“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...” 

“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause. 

She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails. 

“Stay and do what..?” 

“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”

“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”

“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?” 

“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.” 

They sat in silence for a while. 

“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.” 

Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued. 

“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.” 

“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat. 

“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.” 

“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause. 

“...What?” 

“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.” 

She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.

“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?” 

“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”

“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.

None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.

“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”

“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.

“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”

“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”

Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away. 

Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.

They walked back in silence. 

Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering. 

“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion. 

They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.

Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage. 

“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Asmodea up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons. 

“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.” 

Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed. 

The leader laughed.

“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”

Astarion’s blood boiled.

He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole. 

“Take the ones behind,” Asmodea snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing. 

He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Asmodea spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.

The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter. 

The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Asmodea followed behind him.

The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing. 

Astarion turned back to witness Asmodea standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.

Asmodea barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch. 

A domination spell. 

Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.

 “Kneel,” Asmodea commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.

“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him. 

Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides. 

“…What?”

The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.

“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.

“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…

He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever. 

“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”

She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.

“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”

“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.

“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?” 

“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”

She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him. 

“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising. 

“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.

“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”

“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?” 

She spat on the ground. 

“I’m going back to camp.”

She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.

It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade. 

He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back. 

No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?

It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.

And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.

But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…

There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.

Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.

He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog. 

Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less. 

He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her. 

He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.

“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.

“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.

“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”

“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up. 

Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.

“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.

“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.

Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.

“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.

“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.

“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”

They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

This is the last in-game part of the series for now (aside from some smut - see below). If you want to continue reading about my Tav and Astarion, go ahead and check out Bloodbang Chronicles which takes place 5 years after the end of the game.

Series master list

Next in in-game series - A night at the inn (branches off into smut)

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

@spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin

@asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox

@icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna @mj-bites @bardic-inspo

[platinumshawnn]

SINNER [ escapism ii] | jburrow

AN: Hi, back on my shit with a sequel to Escapism and I will be taking a century long break from writing smut because fuck, this shit took so long to write today that I’m pretty sure I preemptively aged 70 years.

The vibe for the sequel is SINNER by Mishaal Tamer gn kids

Warnings(s): Alcohol consumption, implied consent, fem!reader smut (MDNI, 18+); unprotected sex

Word count: 5.8k

LINK TO PT I Escapism:

Lauren had swept in a few minutes afterwards, with Nick in tow at her heels, her hand releasing his once she had reached the bar that had been her friend’s poor attempt at a saving grace; nearly falling over herself at the bottom step to the floor and practically falling into the pair. Lauren had glanced at Joe as she approached, breathless and laughing as her friend tore her gaze away from the blonde who stood upright at her arrival, the pair of women looking at each other. Her gaze had darted towards where Nick had come up on Joe’s right, nudging him with an elbow to get his attention whilst Joe had taken another long drink from his cup and slowly turning his eyes away after a pause, blue eyes scanning up and down his friend as though he had noted it too — a smear of lipstick to the side of his neck, the black t-shirt doing nothing to hide it.

“You looked like you needed some saving.” Lauren breathed out as she leaned into her, still breathless from her running down the floor and steps in a hurry; she slung an arm around her waist, drawing her attention away from the two men who had become engrossed in their own discussion.

“My savior.” She teased, the free hand not currently occupied with her drink lifting to pinch her cheek, grinning wide as Lauren swatted her hand away with playful whine about her makeup as she covered her cheek that pinkened from the light gesture of her friend. YN hummed as she took a drink from the whiskey sour in her hand, swallowing and lowering it to speak, “It was already messed up, I don’t think I could do more damage.” She commented, the buzzed smile on her face as she tilted her head in the direction of the men who were still preoccupied by whatever Nick was mid-explaining as the pair looked at his phone. Her hand rose to tap her bottom lip with a fingertip, a grin on Lauren’s face.

Her head tilted with a laugh, Lauren’s hand grabbing the hand that had reached out to her face and snagging it in her grasp, her fingers lacing with hers. “Dance with me, you’re not just here to look pretty.” Lauren said, leaning into her to ensure she could be heard as she began to tug her along and away from the bar however she was met by resistance.

“Oh, god, Lauren, no—“

“Come on!”

She could give it to her, that Lauren was stubborn and committed to making things happen — there was no denying her. She watched as her friend had turned, walking backwards as she pulled her along for a few steps as she watched YN’s features soften, caving into her demand as she sighed before grinning at her realization that she had won. Her shoulder grazed Joe’s, touching his back with her knuckles to get his attention for a moment as the two men turned momentarily, shoving the drink into his hand as she flashed a smile over her shoulder at him and followed Lauren into the crowd of dancing bodies that filled every corner of the club; the pulsating music moving the crowd. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but something allowed her to move freely, following Lauren’s lead as the pair inched to the outer edge of the crowd and found a rhythm — maybe it was liquor or the feeling of Joe’s eyes on her as she moved, her head turning to find his eyes through the crowd from his place at the bar, intently watching. She held his eyes as he turned slightly, disregarding whatever Nick was pointing at, already engrossed in conversation with a tiny blonde to his right.

Joe didn’t like to be the type to hover—no. Instead, he was a patient, calculated guy who kept his eyes on what he wanted at all times, just observing; watching until he was ready and his time came.

She watched as he took a long drink from her cup, only then did he drop the eye contact to turn and set it down on the bar top as it was emptied behind him. Her attention was only torn away as he seemed to disappear for a moment behind a couple of passing bodies, the sight of his white t-shirt gone in an instant as a trio of drunk girls who were giggling and clinging to each other with red, glossed over eyes mid-laughter passed the spot that he had claimed by the bar as her eyes searched for him to no avail — he was gone, leaving no trace that he had even been there other than his friend who didn’t even seem to notice his disappearance. She turned her body so that her back was to the crowd, leaning onto her toes as her eyes scanned along the heads that were crowded around the tiny countertop against the wall, however the sight was overwhelming, filled with constant movement of men who oozed desperation and girls who wreaked of nativity, with shifting eyes and stiff movements that implied inexperience. A flash of blonde hair over a crowd had caught her eye, prompting her to take a step in the direction of it as she tried to find those familiar eyes — maybe that smug smile that hinted at arrogance.

A hand on her elbow stopped her, halfway through stepping out and closer to the head of hair, stumbling back half a step when the face turned and appeared through a gap in the movement that didn’t match those familiar boy next door features, “Hey, what’s up?”

Her head turned towards the voice, making eye contact with a young guy who barely reached her eyes as he stared at her expectantly, doing his best to swoon her with a smile that was stiff and hinted at immaturity, lopsided as his gaze scanned over her. The feeling of his eyes on her made her want to crawl out of her skin and disappear as her head swayed from side to side, mouth opening to stammer out some response of ‘no, thank you’ but sliding her arm from his grasp, coming up short for words and recoiling from his touch with tense shoulders and pulling her arms into herself; wrapping around herself as her head turned to look again towards where Joe had previously stood — it was aimless, she knew he wouldn’t be there, but it felt like a good enough starting point.

“What? Have you got a man or something?”

Her eyes scanned from left to right, her eyes searching every face she could make out under the poor lighting. A sudden warmth spread across her cheeks, ashamed and embarrassed as she searched for him; where the fuck had he gone? The idea of another girl having caught his attention a sickening thought that made her angry as she sharply inhaled, feeling a hand touch her side and tearing her from the image — the thought of Joe’s lips on another’s throat, hands at their waist and tugging at their shirt—

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

She glanced over her right shoulder, hair falling behind her as she turned to look back at the boyish stranger who looked like a teenage boy throwing a tantrum and pouting by fault of her rejection as she stepped forward, hands immediately finding her hips as she stepped into the figure that seemed to materialize ahead of her, the sudden contact bringing a yelp of surprise. He wasn’t confrontational but he had a presence about him that could come across as intimidating as he towered over her, his gaze glancing behind her towards the younger man for half a second, a furrow of his brow being flashed in his direction before turning his attention back to her — his touch radiated something soothing deep down to her bones as she seemed to collapse into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, his right hand coming up her back and planting between her ribs to press her into him. She could have stayed just like that, embracing the warmth and comfort he provided but her attention was drawn back to his face as she looked up at him, his hands coming up to her hold her ribs with a careful hands as though he was afraid of crushing her while raising an eyebrow at her as she stilled under his stare, the power of just a look speaking volumes as he silently searched for an answer to check that she was okay. He may not have been hers, but he was caring and kind. He was kind and stunning under the lighting as a flash of blue lighting scanned over them, her eyes lifting towards the moving light fixture that moved over the crowd, looking back to his face as his own eyes searched her expression. She nodded, answering the silent question as she reached up, her hands cradling his face to bring his face close to hers, her chin tilting as she reluctantly hovered her mouth over his as his breath fanned out over his lips. There was a pause between them, just relishing in the closeness before he leaned down to close the gap between them and finally press his mouth to hers in a kiss; lips skilled as they encapsulated hers, his tongue brushing over the delicate skin.

His left hand left her side to come up and find her jaw, his thumb hooked over her cheek as his fingers splayed out to extend against the side of her neck, stumbling forward into her a step. For a moment, she had been caught in a trance as his lips trailed down to press against her jaw, reaching her throat — however, the jostle of shoulders snapped her out of it, tugging on the neck of his shirt before reaching to grab his wrist, “Wait—“ She breathed out, having to tug gain before his face returned to hers, hovering over hers as she eyed him, sucking in a deep breath, “come here— come with me.”

Her mind was racing a million miles an hour as she laced her fingers through his, her gaze darting over his shoulder as her eyes landed on the hallway that lead towards the washrooms; the glowing exit sign a beacon that she followed as she pulled him along, his steps close on her heels and chest just behind her back as they nudged past the distracted crowd that was growing increasingly rowdy the more intoxicated they became — her mind briefly went back to Lauren, glancing over her shoulder as she tried to find her blonde hair in the crowd. Her head was throbbing, overstimulated by the noise and all the lights, the bodies that pushed up against one another as they swayed — she could vaguely make out the song, the bass humming through the walls as she squinted. She blinked a couple of times rapidly, as she caught a glimpse of her, dancing, her back pressed against a guy who struggled to follow her movements.

“Do you want to go back?” Joe asked, his voice close to her ear as he followed her gaze, looking down at her as she paused at the opening of the hallway to watch on for a few seconds — she was okay.

She shook her head, her head turning to look down into the hallway that was only half lit by dim, yellow lights that were buried in the ceiling above them. She knew this hallway like the back of her hand though, from nights spent hiding off in the bathroom or kissing boys she never talked to again — she could navigate it without looking, by touch as her left hand reached out to brush against the wall as they walked. The line to the girls bathroom was shortened, earning only a brief couple of stares as she led past and closer towards the back exit that was only illuminated by the red EXIT sign above it. Her head turned to look behind them as she then pulled Joe to stop against the wall, checking to ensure they were in the clear for security or any other bar staff that might have seen them, her eyes peering past him before she reached out to the opposite wall and blindly found a doorknob that turned with her hand, “Go.” She whispered, yanking Joe forward.

He followed her instructions, moving quickly as his gaze also darted down the hallway to ensure they were safe before he moved, ducking inside. She was close behind, easing the door shut behind her as she stepped inside, his hands once again finding her hips as she stumbled into him in the dark; chest to chest, her head tilting to look up while one hand reached above her to feel, her fingers feeling to find the string to the lightbulb above them. She could feel his eyes on her before the light was even on, the light audibly turning on as she found and pulled the string, her eyes lifting to find his half-lidded stare just watching her as though she was the most fascinating thing in the world. Her hand dropped from the string to his shoulder, watching as his eyes zoned in on the environment — the small, dusty closet seeming to dawn on him as he let out a quiet laugh, “You take a lot of unsuspecting guys back here?” He teased, his eyes returning to her face.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” She retorted, her tone hinting sarcasm — not that she had ever hooked up back here, but she had discovered the old coat check from a friend who had snuck her own alcohol in once during a birthday the year prior. She had brought one person here — a quick kiss that was cut short by Lauren searching for her, forcing her to dart out and being caught by security as she exited. She had been banned from the bar for a month after but hadn’t seen the inside of this closet since.

He let out a ‘mph’, ducking to catch her mouth with his again, resuming the previous kiss but with an increased fervor and need, her own feet stumbling to find their footing as he pulled her towards him. She was putty in his hands, all teeth and tongue as she bunched the fabric of his shirt in her hands at his sides, her mouth falling agape and eyes shut as his mouth dropped to press a trail of open mouth kisses down the length of her throat, his hands sliding down her sides and reaching for the back of her thighs until his fingers came into contact with the hem of her dress that had ridden up just under her bottom with movement. His fingers pressed into the flesh, squeezing it in his hands as he then stumbled forward, guiding the pair towards the door, her left hand falling to soften the fall against it as he back collided with the wood, a groan of approval reverberating from her chest as his mouth trailed over whatever skin he could reach. Her hand flung up from the door to his nape, sliding into the hair at the scalp for grip, as his shoulders dipped, slouching against her as his hands worked to wiggle up the fabric of her dress until it could be bunched over her hips, snug as he fumbled with the material of her tights.

“What do you want?” He mumbled against her skin, his mouth at the base of her throat as he shifted his stance, his left thigh between her legs and bracing his knee against the door. Her free hand found his, covering his larger hand with hers as she guided his hand to between her thighs as his head lifted so he could look her in the face, awaiting her response, and watching her expression as she chewed her bottom lip between her teeth; heavily breathing as she moved.

Joe followed her lead, his hand reaching between her thighs and cupping her through the sheer thighs and panties that felt like nothing more than a few scrap pieces of fabric — skimpy and thin underneath her clothing as his fingers traced over her. He could practically feel her right through the thin fabric as he skillfully pressed into her, his fingers dragging over her clit as his gaze remained fixated on her face, watching the twitch of her eyebrows and her lips as she sucked in a sharp breath. His unoccupied hand planted against the door above her shoulder as his movements continued, slow and deliberate in drawing a reaction from her; trying to drag out the experience as long as he could — it felt like an entire life ago the last time he had seen the sweet expression of bliss on her face, her head tipping back against the door as her mouth opened to let out a soft moan into the empty space. Joe could have listened to that sound on repeat in his headphones for hours straight if it was possible, the sound sending a warmth through his chest and down his abdomen. Her hips thrusted towards his hand, begging silently for more friction as his fingers continued their movements, sliding up to the waist of her tights and tucking underneath to slide down over her hips and pelvis until he could reach down to push his hand into her underwear, his movements more rushed and eager as he fumbled his hand past the silky waistband that fit snug over her hips. He moved to mimic his previous movements, though his fingers made contact with her bare skin, warm and slick with arousal as his fingers rubbed over her clit again in steady circular movements.

Joe could be meticulous — he cared about making his partners feel good, as long as he could remember, gauging the noises and their reaction to his touch. It was an ego thing maybe, that he had to always be good — he needed to know that he could genuinely make them feel good so there wouldn’t be any need for faking it. He had learned to be attentive to the littlest details, a scrunch of the face, a tremble, a twitch — something.

He could see even in the dim lighting as her chest seemed to rise and fall quicker with more labored breathing as she slid her hand from his hair to his shoulder and gripped the muscle there tightly, a slew of soft, high pitched moans breathed out as her eyebrows rose; her eyes shut. He leaned in, his mouth pressing to her neck and nipping at the skin, trailing down to her clavicle. There was a fumble of movements as she reached down suddenly to awkwardly shove at her tights, shimmying them down her legs as he stepped back half a step and withdrew, his hand pulling away from its place between her legs to assist with shoving them down past her knees. It was then that he knelt, her hand planting on his shoulder for balance as he helped her to kick off her heels and slide the tights off; pulling them from her feet and dropping them beside him on the floor. His hands came back to her legs, his head tilting to look up at her as she stared down at him, watching as he moved with slow hands to crept up her legs and thighs until they reached her hips; pressing a kiss above her right knee and to the inside of her thigh as he moved, leaning up and pressing a kiss just above the fabric of her underwear. His fingers slid up underneath the waistband and hooked around it, dragging them down her legs until they fell down around her feet. Her hand remained at his shoulder for support, wobbling for a second.

He shifted in front of her, flat on both knees in front of her as he brought his hand to his mouth and gathered some saliva with the tips of his fingers; leaning in and using his shoulder to nudge her legs apart as his hand came back from his mouth to find her clit again, rubbing with gentle movements. Her hips ground down into his hand, twitching and squeezing his shoulder as tightly as her hand could muster. Joe was slow and cautious not to cause her any harm as his hand shifted, leaning into press his lips to her inner thigh as he gently prodded her entrance with his fingers for a moment before he carefully pushed his middle and ring fingers into her; the intrusion slow but welcome as he instantly felt her clench around him, feeling as she seemed to slouch against the door with a moan of his name. She readjusted her grip on his shoulders, one hand at his shoulder while the other knit itself into his hair as she attempted to straighten herself out against the door, “Joe…”

He hummed against her skin, his fingers slowly thrusting into her with shallow movements, her hips undulating down into his palm; seeking more friction, “We can’t…“ She sighed, her voice shaking as she quietly spoke down to him, “—we can’t be too long.” She reminded him through clenched teeth. He hummed again, knowing she was correct — as much as they both hated to rush things, he pressed a kiss to her pelvic bone, his fingers working a few more gentle thrusts before he withdrew his fingers and brought them back to his mouth to suck them clean, slowly standing from the floor. He was painfully reminded by their setting as he heard a shout from the hallway, inhaling before sighing out the breath of air. His fingers were released from his mouth, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger to guide her mouth to his in a kiss while he pressed his chest to hers. The action had backed her flush against the door, receiving a grateful sigh in turn as it supported her unsteady legs.

Joe held her face close to his, lips mirroring his — a mix of tongue and lips as her hands found his waist to work his jeans undone, opening the button and carefully unzipping them, cautious not to snag any fabric or anything underneath in the poor lighting. Suddenly she cursed the poor visibility, unable to clearly see the look on his face or his general appearance as more than a low quality image as she awkwardly fumbled to shove his jeans down enough. He had to release his hold on her to assist in pushing his jeans and boxers down enough to allow his cock to be released from the confines of his clothing, erect and tip flushed pink as he just nudged the pants down comfortably low on his hips. Her left hand came up to lick her palm before reaching down between them to wrap around the circumference of him, her actions tentative as she slowly pumped along the length of him a few times; her head turned to look down as she carried out the task, his forehead resting to the crown of her head.

“Fuck,” He quietly breathed out.

He allowed her to continue her own movements for a few moments, his left hand clenching along with his jaw as he let out a muffled groan. The recoil from her touch was nearly painful as he pulled her hand away from him, grabbing her hip to guide her into turning so her back was to his chest, her right hand planting firm against the door. Joe glanced down as he replaced her hand to grip his cock, shuffling forward and nudging her feet apart as her hips tilted back to make the position easier; guiding himself towards her entrance until he could swipe through her folds with her arousal as a sort of makeshift lubricant for his movements. She jumped for a moment, sharply inhaling and bracing as she felt him begin to push up and into her, the initial push slow and paired with a stretch that earned a short gasp of air, his hand being freed to reach up and move her hair over to her right shoulder so he could see her without any obstruction. Her head turned towards her left, his left arm bracing against the door at her side as he watched her eyebrows furrow, mouth opening as she leaned up on her toes; his right hand at her ribs and holding her in place against him. With a final shift of his feet between hers, he slowly found a steady rhythm of thrusting up into her, his pelvis rolling up against her ass with each roll of his hips; eliciting a high pitched whine from her, her eyes squeezed shut. The hand at her ribs slid forward and up to her chest, holding the front of her dress as if for leverage — she could feel the cool air against her skin as the tug on her dress caused it to ride down, her chest partially exposed and pressed flush against the door as he seemed to notice; his hand moving to cup her breast in his palm, the nipple taut and erect against his palm.

Her hand flung over his at her chest, jolting upwards with a snap of his hips, “Jesus fuck.” She cried out, feeling his breath on the back of her neck.

His breathing was short, shallow pants from parted lips as he felt her clench around him, eliciting a groan that was lost in her hair as she pressed her hips back against Joe. She reached to nudge some space between her and the door so her free hand could reach aimlessly between her legs, hovering stupidly as she was distracted by his thrusts alone — her brain, as foggy as it was, managed to finally process what her intended move was, her fingers finding her clit and sloppily rubbing vigorously as her hips pushed into his. She could live off the memory of his breathy groans for the rest of her life, even when he was away and at a distance — even if she never spoke to him again, he would be ingrained in her skin.

“So fucking good, baby, you’re so good.” He muttered beside her ear, his words further igniting the pool of heat in her belly; a heat that was searing hot as it slowly spread down her thighs and to her toes.

The hand once over his reached out for the wall like it would help her somehow, ground her as she climbed cloud 9; her moans becoming more desperate whines that were buried under the thundering music from just beyond the door she clutched for dear life, “Holy fuck— fuck.” She cried out, her walls suddenly clamping down around him so tight he was almost forced out from her with the pulsating sensation of her around his cock; stripping him of any remaining composure from him as she reached back and found the nape of his neck blindly, forcing his own orgasm to follow with a curse and gasp from the athlete as his fist balled against the door beside her.

“That’s it, shit.” He breathed out, a groan rumbling from his chest as he coaxed her through her orgasm as long as he could, twitching inside her as she unintentionally milked him through his own as much as he physically could give; his skin layered in a sheen of sweat and panting against her shoulder.

He could feel as she slumped, utterly spent and leaning against the door, jolting against him from hypersensitivity once she seemed to bottom out; letting out an audible content, tired sigh. Joe stayed in place for a moment, his forehead to her temple as she relished in the delicate moments after, his hand at her chest smoothing over the skin and gently pulling the front of her dress back over her as if to provide her some modesty considering the circumstances; with his chest to her back, his head ducking to press a kiss to her shoulder that was sweet in nature and light amidst catching his breath. His hand slid down from her chest to her hip, “You good?” He quietly asked after a few moments of silence had passed between them.

She nodded, swallowing thickly.

“You sure?” Joe asked, waiting until she nodded again before he withdrew his already softening cock from her and keeping his arms underneath her arms as she stood upright from the door. His arms wrapped around her waist, her head falling back against his shoulder as she processed the situation — Lauren would be searching for her and would never let her live this one down if she had put the pieces together. Her arms wrapped over his though rather than rushing to straighten herself out and enjoying the last few blissful moments before she would have to return to the booth and make some excuse to go home to shower; enjoy her post-orgasm haze before her hangover inevitably set in, too blissed out by his warmth to even comprehend anything else. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend any shame or embarrassment at the idea of any patrons sneaking off to the washrooms hearing and figuring out what was going on.

“We’ve gotta get back.” He sighed after a moment.

She deflated against him, disappointed the moment had come to an end so soon but she had been gone too long already. She allowed him to withdraw his arms from holding her, hearing the sound of fabric against skin as he pulled his boxers and pants back up; adjusting himself before his zipper was done up along with the button. Her own hands began to reach to pull her dress down, feeling his skim her sides as he stepped forward again to help with the task in smoothing her dress down and straightening it back down over her backside; bending behind her to grab her underwear.

“I can put them on myself.” She mumbled, taking them from him and turning, bending to step back into them; her legs shaky as she wobbled for a second as she yanked them back up and underneath her dress. Joe’s gaze remained on her as she moved, her gaze down and on the floor, makeup smudged slightly from activity; her lipstick nearly gone at that point. He reached forward to smooth out her dress for her again, reaching up to catch her chin and press a kiss to her mouth — much sweeter and gentle than previous, lingering longer as though he mirrored her sentiments of not wanting to leave right away. She sighed against his mouth, though this one was of content nature, relaxing into his touch, “My shoes…”

“Here.” He said, bending down and kneeling on one knee then, using a hand to quickly shove his disheveled hair back from his face as it fell forward into his forehead. He gathered her shoes and guided her heel as she stepped into them, his hands finding hers to help stabilize her as they stood there for a moment longer when he rose to stand, “I can leave first, you come out a few seconds behind me so we don’t draw too much attention.” He suggested.

She nodded, reaching past him to turn off the light again, leaning up and pressing one final kiss to his mouth. As they shuffled to turn, Joe eased open the door and stuck his head out first, watching down the hall for any security or workers before he ducked out, fixing his hair as he stepped back into the hallway. Chewing her lips, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, dreading the return to the world outside the closet and exhausted. She timed it, waiting twenty or so seconds, enjoying the final moments of peace before she eased open the door and scanned the hallway as well, slipping out and shutting the door behind her, her hands immediately reaching to tug down the hem of her dress. The walk back to the booth felt long, touched out for the night as bodies brushed past her, grimacing when hands would skim over her elbow or reach for her in an attempt to get her attention. She was suddenly more grateful than anything for the support from the security who held her hand as she walked up the stairs and made her way back to where she could see Lauren clinging to Nick, her face in his neck as she walked up behind the pair and clearing her throat.

Lauren’s head shot out around Nick to look at her, wide eyed and taking in her appearance — she hadn’t checked how rough she looked, but Lauren noticed it immediately and narrowed her eyes for a moment. She released Nick and reached out to her friend, “Where did you disappear to?” She asked as a hand touched her shoulder, though her words held a knowing tone to them.

She inhaled, reaching to grab her purse from the coat rack attached to the booth, both Nick and Lauren watching as she slung it over her shoulder and began to fish out her coat check ticket, “I was just walking around. I went and got a smoke from some…girl i met in the washroom.” She fibbed, shrugging her shoulders and flicking her hair back as she looked up.

Lauren hummed and nodded. Her gaze darted towards the booth where Joe was only just situating himself into a seat, catching her eye for a split second before they both looked away, “I’m going to head home though I think. I’m done for the night.”

“Did you want me to come with you?” Lauren asked, earning a shake of her head.

“You stay,” She said, “I just need some sleep. I will talk to you tomorrow, though, okay? You get her home safe.” She said, looking at Nick who nodded once, a small smile on his face as an arm slung around Lauren’s waist. She nudged the pair to bend over the table and lean towards Joe, squeezing his shoulder in a friendly way, her eyes turning to look towards a few of his other friends who she had noticed earlier — Ja’Marr sitting to his right, she waved to him.

“You guys get home safe.” She simply said, Joe’s eyes on her as she straightened up again and fixed her bag on her shoulder.

“Will we see you again soon?” Joe asked, eyebrows raising, his friend agreeing.

“Yeah, we don’t see you much these days. You comin’ down to Cincinnati anytime soon?” Ja’Marr asked, sitting forward to look at her as she shrugged.

“I’ll see if I have some time soon, we’ll see I guess.” She replied, slowly starting to back away as Ja’Marr let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff as Joe looked on.

“Try harder.”

She smiled, waving once more as she turned to leave, reaching out and touching Lauren’s arm as she began to walk towards the bouncer again, “Okay, I’m going now.”

“Alright, I will talk to you in the morning— I love you.” Lauren said, blowing her a kiss before she pointed to her bare legs, “you forgot your leggings by the way.” Lauren stated with a wink, her arm wrapping around Nick’s neck.

[pursuitseternal]

“More Than Just A Little Death:” Heavy Angst with a “glimmer of a happy ending”Dark Lord Astarion x Enemy Tav

Ascended Astarion x Tav | E | 4.5K of angst with a glimmer of a happy ending

Screen grab from @venenum-cadaverinus 🖤

Summary: Centuries of darkness under the rule of the Vampire Ascendant come grinding to a halt. The one being who knows him is bound in his dungeon. What unfolds will hurt, with a glimmer of hope at the end. Mind the tags.

CW: This one will hurt, Heavy angst with a glimmer of a happy ending, Major Character Deaths, Tragedy, Hate Fuck, Sworn Enemies, Regret and True Feelings.

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

Centuries of darkness. Of soot and ash spewed into the sky to blanket the lands in thick, acidic shadow.

Lands coated in constant shadow at the command of the great mountains of fire he has constructed, a matter of dedication to his desire for power, his ambition to rule. Even diverting magma and sulfur from the Peaks of Flame was but a small step in his plans to darken Faerûn, to bring it to heel as he deserved.

These were the lands of the Ascendant, the lands made perfect for his rule, and the heart of his ever-reaching empire. Cities, empires, nations all fell before his strength, his armies of undead vast and allconsuming. Not even Lathander’s Blood or his Light or He himself could touch the forces and power of Lord Astarion. He was brutal, bloodthirsty, ruthless….

And always victorious.

His lands were a breeding ground of spawn and red dragons and other terrifying creatures of the dark. Legends recounted tales of blood and destruction and domination, that the Vampire Ascendant had a heartbeat but no beating heart.

The only one who knew that his heart really did once beat beneath his ribs was just brought to his dungeons, roaming in the shadows of his dark tower. As if he didn’t smell her, knowing that scent even after centuries. As if he didn’t know the dance of her pulse in moments of fear or determination or arousal…

Lord Astarion adjusted the clasps of his armor, for he knew better than to approach her unprotected and unarmed. Given the amount of weapons found on that still supple, lithe frame of hers, it was clear she had come behind enemy lines with one goal in mind.

To finish what she would have centuries before when she left his side.

Stepping into the barred cells and depths of darkness of his dungeons, his eyes fixed their gaze on her trembling in her chains. He let his feet fall loudly, let his breath sound a little louder than he was accustomed to in his own vampiric domain. But it was enough to draw her attention.

Enough to have her stare at him with all the vitriol and hate in her heart he remembered.

And it made him flash a toothsome smirk. “Come to kill me again, darling?”

She said nothing, her breathing just more ragged as he entered her cell, the rusting hinges shrieking as he pushed them open and shut them in his wake. Her nostrils flared, her arms jerked against the chains that hung her arms out wide from her shoulders.

“No warm words for your ancient lover?” he crooned, eyes glowing in the darkness as he rounded behind her. “Hardly like you to not use your tongue in my presence… for speaking or other things…” He ran his fingers lightly up her arm, the thin, dark material of her shift torn from the rough treatment she had already received just being thrown in here. His touch danced harder in the spots where her flesh poked through.

She held her mouth shut firmly, shuddering under his touch, eyes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling so as not to catch a glimpse of him.

“Afraid you’ll fall for me all over again, my dear, if you look at me?” he rasped just beside her pointed ear. A snarl in his throat, he pulled her by her chin, chains rattling as he forced that still beautiful face to meet his stare. She was fury incarnate, eyes dilated with hate, teeth grit to feel his touch on her skin, nostrils flaring with every enraged breath. Shaking herself free she sneered up at his smirk of victory. “Ah, that’s better, just like old times,”

“Unhand me,” she hissed with a snap of her teeth.

“And why would I do that?” Astarion purred, leaning closer to stroke her filthy cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I have you right where I want you, right where you always have been meant to be.”

“Your slave, your prisoner?” she spat, flinching again, eyes like coals burning with hate in the dungeon’s dark.

“At my side, under my touch, commanded by my control,” he looked at her, face lifting in an expression of pure sincerity.

“You mean trapped in the darkness you’ve brought over this beautiful realm…” she made herself reply.

He went silent for a moment, something in his crimson eyes hardened at her accusation. Something shifted in the way his fingers brushed her skin. The way they clamped onto her shoulder to pull her shaking body flush against his armored frame. “You left me in the dark, Tav, you took my sun, my stars and moon when you left me… I took the same from this precious realm you saved just to make it even.” His grip pinched harder, making a gasp unwillingly escape her chapped lips. “I’ve made this world almost as shadowed as your heart, darling.”

Summoning her strength, she resisted his clutch, making herself stand up all the taller despite his force. “You only remade the world in your own image, Astarion… Only doing what you most desire.”

“Oh, perhaps you’ve forgotten after all these centuries,” his touch suddenly wandered over her collarbone, caressing in its warmth as it stole around her neck. “If I allowed myself to do as I desire, you wouldn’t be in some dungeon dangling from chains, covered in grime or clothing even…”

That got her hissing in her breath and pulling at her chains. “You had your fun with my body before I realized how much you deceived me, Ast…” she shut her mouth, almost clipping her own tongue.

The Vampire cackled, low in his chest, a sound so foreign even to himself. “What’s the matter, Tav? Can’t bring yourself to mention my name?” He kept laughing at that low pitch and staccato tempo. He drew up behind her body instead, a fist in her hair to pull that gorgeous neck to the side so he could hiss right in her ear. “Afraid I’ll make you cry it from your lips again as you used to?”

She crammed her jaw shut, tugging her hardest to break from his ironclad hold. A warm, wet tongue lapped up the direction of her artery, and her body shivered, even as her face contorted with disgust. “You have power over the whole world now… all because you lost power over the one thing you wanted more.”

“And what was that, darling?” He hissed against her rapping pulse before dragging his fangs across that alabaster skin.

“Me,” she snipped her reply.

And it just made him give that low, staccato laugh of purest malice. Her words slammed against that darkness in his soul, but he ignored it. Yanking her head back, he made those piercing eyes look into his wicked smirk. “Oh, my delusional darling…” he tutted his tongue, chastising her like a naughty little schoolgirl. “Let me show you the extent of my power, and you tell me if you think it’s truly an equal replacement for you.”

A snap of his fingers, a spell muttered under his breath, and they vanished into thin air.

Winds raced around them, no more than mist, hot and cold, racing through light and dark until he stopped at the top of his grand tower. Tav gasped as her body reformed, freed of her shackles, but crouching on hands and knees as she tried to catch her breath. He stood over her, crowding her so closely, the edges of his scarlet cape fluttered in her face. The hot winds whipped around them both on the parapet, stinking of volcanic sulfur and blood… and she tried not to gag. Panting, it took all her effort to keep her stomach from hurling. And then, his hand slipped into view, offering her aid to get to her feet.

A breathless, disparaging laugh managed it way out from her burning lungs. A sound he did not take kindly to. That pale hand slipped almost invisibly into her hair, yanking her to her feet. “As much as I love the sight of you crumpled and kneeling at my feet, there is something I wish you to see…” he growled.

His other hand framed her chin, forcing her to survey his lands, the shroud of his darkness extending as far as the eye could see. And her eyes flared wide. Not one beam of sun pierced his cover of darkness, not one tree grew in the mud slicks and shadowed city that spanned his domain. All was black and scarlet and golden, refracting the fires of a million torches and bonfires and the fire mountains themselves that burned in the distance.

“Tell me it’s not awe inspiring, the magnitude of my power. Hordes of dragons at my command, legions of spawn and soldiers, an army worthy of the Ascendant…. There is no realm I cannot take, no land I cannot claim under my rule.”

He released her hair, her face, drawing back step to survey her reaction. “And it could have all been yours too…” he sneered. “Tch, what a waste.” Those crimson eyes scanned her body, her frame shaking and weak, her skin dirtied and scratched from his warriors’ rough handling. “How far you have fallen, Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Instead of this.. weak being you are now, I would have made you my queen, my own vampiric bride, with all the right to rule and command at my side.”

“All I see is desperation, Astarion. A man so insistent on chasing power and domination he denied himself two things he loved most.” Tav leveled her clear and shining eyes at him. “Freedom… and sunlight.”

She heard his fangs snap, a growl in his throat.

She continued, “And why would I choose to be with someone so desperate for power, he turns his beautifully scarred back on burning that which made him… happy…” Breath froze in her lungs, she could feel it. That creeping, ancient longing that never quite disappeared over centuries. That haunting that still plagued her mind and heart of times that were simpler and loving.

Times brimming with freedom and sunlight.

He bristled, pulling her roughly to spin, to land against his chest. “I’ll just ignore the fact that you still think of the scars on my body…” he sniggered. “I’ll take it to heart you once cared for my happiness… and not that you probably still touch yourself to the memory of my skin on your skin, the feeling of those scars under your nails as I fucked you…”

Her muscled frame thrashed to be free, to loosen the bonds of his arms around her waist. “I do no such thing…” she hissed. “Don’t you dare accuse me of something so heinous.”

“Yes… I am heinous, fucking me would be totally… heinous…” he snarled the word into her ear, the heat of his breath bathing her skin hotter than the volcanic blasts in the distance. “Fortunately, I still remember the heroine who once was more than willing to do such… heinous things… I wonder if those same things would make her skin crawl now.”

His lips caressed her neck, making her shudder in hatred and fight to breathe. “Let me go,” she hissed and thrashed. “Monster… villain…”

Fists locked around her upper arms like a vice. “Oh, you always knew just how to talk so sweetly to me, darling.” With that, he held her firm, like irons and tighter than chains. “You really do hate me, don’t you?” He hissed, gripping her chin and bringing her lips just to the precipice of his own. “And here I was, ready to offer you one more chance to be mine, my own consort… my right—“

Her lips pressed hard against his, all hatred and teeth and heat on her tongue as she closed that hair's width of a distance. Choking her with his tongue, Astarion couldn’t get enough of that taste. Centuries of deprivation, she clearly craved it too. Her hands struggled beneath his grip, a grip he eased once he realized she was removing his armor, piece by godsdamned piece. He would help if he wasn’t too suspicious.

But his need and desire considered those centuries of command and restraint. He pulled off plate after plate too until there were none left. Then, he took the rest of that feeble linen of her shirt in his fists and tore it full open.

Her flesh was bruised and scarred, centuries of fighting had hardened her, marking her with her own brand of dark obsession. Glancing down at Tav, he broke away from their kiss, both of them wild and panting. For an instant, she looked so soft in the glow of his domain. That dead ember in his core wavered with a hint of life, that longing and vulnerable need… but he snuffed it out. Shoving her hard and fast with all his vampiric speed until her back hit the outer wall of his grand tower.

That same softness was gone behind her eye too. Teeth bared, she gripped his cock painfully hard through his leathers. “Same old spawn. So easy to still reduce you to nothing but whimpering need,” she hissed.

“Enough,” he ordered, hands pulling her torn breeches to shreds until he sank his fingers inside her folds with a satisfied groan. If he closed his eyes, it could have been a tree in the middle of a secret grove that he shoved her against, but he kept his eyes wide open, watching the looks of hate and lust and agony bloom on her sullied face. He watched her head get thrown back against the wall of his fortress, watched her cheeks burst into a deep scarlet blush from desire and shame.

“Fuck… you,” she gave a feral hiss as he freed his cock and sank it inside her one last time. Her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, and he showed no mercy, biting the air in his jaws as he fucked her.

Her head bangged against the stone walls, her back scratched against the rough black stone; it made her whimper, her voice such sweet music to his pointy ears as he rammed home deep inside her. Her hands clawed at his hair, yanking it at its roots to keep his fangs off her. It only made him chuckle low and villainous in his throat. As if she could stop him from biting. “Just couldn’t get enough of our late night trysts, could you, darling? Just couldn’t stay away from seeing my power? Now,” he hissed with venom in his voice, “now… I have… everything I wanted.” He gave a particularly brutal snap of his hips, making her clutch his body and scream in his ear. “Companionship and a little death…”

Tav laughed—laughed—-full throated and musical as he rode her into the wall. Astarion sneered, raising his head to look into those pricing determined eyes. “This is your everything… this?” she rasped, growing breathless with her own pleasure.

Strong, skilled fingers slipped between their bodies so he could claw and squeeze her breast. “Yes, this. My kingdom, my power, my enemy laid low… or just laid.”

She snared at the barb, every muscle in her body shuddering in consuming, blinding pleasure as she came. Her body had already given her away, though, she panted and moaned, her hands hugging at his neck instead of throttling or yanking.

If he only just closed his eyes… he could feel it again. Feel it too.

With a grunt, he shuddered, biting into his own arm so as not to pierce his skin, to give her that poison of his power and his venom to turn her into his. Not yet. Not until she was begging for more, for more of this, of him. Finally, his heart slowed, the pounding inside his head grew gentler. And he kissed her sooty cheek. “I’ve missed this…” he let the words that had reverberated in his mind since he laid eyes on her again out from his lips.

Pulling away, he gave a little smile, the kind where just his lips turn, equally and softly. The kind of smile he had given her centuries ago in his tent, on the road, before all… this. Turning his back, he looked out over his lands, tucking his cock back inside his trousers, savoring that scent of their coupling, faint as it was over the stench of volcanic air. He took a deep breath, that smile creeping across his face wider. “You know, darling, I—” He turned sharply, his hand twisting in a flourish….

Something long and sharp and metal sank into his chest. Tav’s eyes were wide, her hand firmly gripped on that long metal weapon. A stake. Summoned by magic, must have been.

“I…” she faltered, watching the lights in his eyes flicker, that haunting crimson glow starting to dim back to the dull and deep red she had once fallen in love with.

“You think I haven’t been staked before,” he gave an effort to laugh, that deep and sinister chuckle, but now it ended in a burst of coughing. Crumbling, he sank to the stone floor of the wall.

Two arms caught him, holding him on her knees as his body registered the pain in his chest. The numbness. Tav looked down at him, her face hard but not unfeeling.

Something warm and wet slipped from his lips. His fingers trembled as he touched it, pulling them away, their pale tips covered in blood. “You always knew how to make such grand gestures of love, darling, especially after such a rigorous… reunion.” He gave her body another long scan, her chest heaving and her skin blushing with emotion and exertion.

A bitter smile turned one corner of her mouth. “How else was I going to get you out of your armor, Astarion, aside from sex. You haven’t changed all that much.” She twisted the metal in his chest a bit deeper, blood soaking to the stones beneath them. “You may have burned the world, Astarion, but you burned my heart to ashes first. You called me unworthy, an ingrate, a waste and disappointment…” Her face leaned in closer to his. “You said I would regret leaving you more than anything I lived to regret when in reality… I only regret not coming for you sooner.”

“I said many things, including that the greatest crimes in this world are committed for love…” he tried to sweep in arm to gesture to his domain. But he hissed in agony. “I lied before, you know… I did this for you, to sate my hunger for you, to replace my lust for you with bloodlust for the world.”

“What…” Tav replied, taken aback. Her voice sounded eerily similar to words that still haunted her from their past. “Why? Why would you ever speak of… love?” she sneered.

“Because, I never stopped loving you… whatever version of love this dark and beating heart is capable of, that is…” he burst into another fit of coughing. His hand tried to grip the metal in his chest, even as his legs began to grow numb. He knew, as he brushed his fingers against it, this was no ordinary stake. But he was the Vampire Ascendant, even magic had its limits…. Surely.

He reached a hand for her trembling cheek. “Nothing is too late you know, not when a being like me… like you… can have eternity.” He sighed, feeling her warm, wet tears starting to leak from her clear eyes. Gently, he dried them with a soft sweep of his thumb as she leaned into his touch. The first time in centuries. Since his Ascension. “Stay. Be mine,” he whispered, voice thick with gravely need and wet with pain. Blood dripped from his chin.

“I’ll never be your spawn,” she looked down to the space between their bodies, both their chests heaving.

“Queen then,” his hand shook as she held her cheek tighter, trying to pull those quivering lips to his. “Think of how much fun it would be, darling. You can try to kill me every day…” he smirked weakly, “why not a little more death, everyday.”

She gave him a cold smile, watching as he noticed how his hand shook, the taste of blood thickening in his mouth. “I’m afraid I’ll only ever need this one attempt to kill you, Astarion.”

Those eyes forced themselves wider, the metal in his chest thrumming with magic.

“Infernal silver, a gift from our old friend Raphael,” Tav’s lips turned down, her eyes unable to meet his again, even as her tears flowed freely now.

He gave a laugh, a bit more blood coming down his chin. “That must have cost you more than a pretty piece of gold, darling.”

“My soul,” she jutted her chin out. “You’re not the only one to take a deal with a devil.”

He laughed, much weaker now. “Then this is it… you did it, my darling. And I have one last chance to ask you for a chance to talk…” He smirked, pulling her lips against hers just to feel her breath. “I just feel… awful. Nothing about this was simple or easy or meant to be, but I wish it was with all that’s left of my heart.” He winced, a wrack of pain shaking his body as he laid on her lap. “All I had to do was forget just how deeply I had fallen for you…”

He groaned as the pain grew too much. Only to feel her hand on his face now, her warmth steadying him, focusing him. “Which is where your dark and sinister plan fell apart, hmm?” She placed a kiss on his lips as they grew pale. “Same for me… I… I wish I didn’t come. I wish you had told me of your love before I…”

She choked on the words, readying her fist to pull the stake out. But he stopped her. “No leave it,” he ordered. “It will buy us a few more precious moments so I don’t simply bleed out all over your beautiful legs.”

Tav wished she could laugh, wished she had done things differently. “Now I don’t deserve any of these words, Astarion…” she let a sob escape from her lungs. “I have given you nothing…”

“No,” Astarion interrupted with a sudden and frantic burst of strength. “I am nothing without you… I never have been, darling. Even with power and realms on their knees. I only ever… ever wanted you. You… complete me.” The smile on her face was balm to his mortally wounded soul—a soul that would soon end up in the hells for all he had done. But for now, he would bask in the heavens of her arms and sun himself in the light of her smile. “I would have been worthy of you… or at least tried harder to be.”

Tav watched as her tears fell on his own pale face, his skin growing corpse-cold slowly but surely the longer she held him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She began to choke on the slick of tears in her throat. “Why didn’t you say.. something when you first saw me?”

“Because all you saw… all you knew was the monster you believed me to be. And so… that’s what I was for you. You wouldn’t have listened to words of love from a monster. At best I thought you’d say no again. More likely…” he hissed, holding the silver stake in his chest, “you’d run… a stake through my ribs…”

Tav gave a single, tear-soaked laugh, “You… foolish vampire.”

“You leaving me was… the thing I regret… more than any other thing I lived to regret…” A piercing cry, from his slacked mouth and he pulled the stake from his chest, blood gushing and flesh rending, wet and gory. “Looks like… I won’t be living to regret it for much longer…”

The ground shook, the wavering orange light in the distance from the volcanos began to burst brighter. Erupting with blistering heat, rocks and ash spewed into the air. And yet, above them, the shadows parted, the faintest beams of light from the sun began to seep through the cover of darkness.

The power of the Ascendant faltered as his breathing grew shorter, as his heart began to slow.

“I can’t, Astarion,” Tav held him tighter. “I can’t live with this regret now either.” Her chin shuddered as she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have killed you.”

“You should have,” he smiled weakly. “You gave me back what I denied myself… freedom and sunshine…” He looked up into the streaks of pale blue and golden beams that crept through more and more. “And you gave me that feeling of love once more…”

He pulled her face against his, his hand and lips cold once more against her skin. “This is a gift, I won’t forget it.” He began to close his eyes.

“Wait,” she shook him, clinging tightly so as not to let go. As if she could keep his soul bound to his bones. “Take me too. Poison me. Bite me.”

“Why?” Was all he could manage to croak.

“I’m bound for the hells too.” That silver stake in the blood beside them was more than enough damnation for her, too.

He gave a single, feeble laugh. “I was going to go this alone… but…” he hissed as the pain began to take him. “Come here then, darling.”

She placed her neck against his lips, those ancient scars from his fangs still tangible against his tongue as he licked her first. As he always had done. With one final grunt, he bit, letting his poison fill her veins as he managed a mouthful of her blood.

Rich and intoxicating, familiar and simply the best. The stuff of his dreams and nightmares. His world dimmed, his body too numb to taste her anymore. He took one last breath, gave her one last smirk. “You’ve never tasted so sweet… darli—“

He was gone, limp in her arms.

Not that Tav noticed, her own body numb and limp as she lost herself to the poison in her veins.

The earth cracked open, the clouds dispersed, and centuries of darkness and blood turned to mist in the light of the sun once more.

Light and sun and wind felt good on his essence as Astarion’s soul bound for the hells, ready to pay its price of 7000 for centuries of empty power and loneliness. But as his spirit flew, it tingled with recognition… the touch of another soul tangling with it.

One that knew him, that reverberated with pain and loss, with affection and connection—soul to soul.

No longer left in darkness as embers.

A spark of love that had laid dormant between them flamed back tenfold, as these souls streaked across the sky to their fates. Together.

Author’s Note: IM SORRY!! Sometimes you just need to purge the angst as a writer. Write some hate fuck and have a good cry

The next one will be toothrotting fluff to overcompensate 💞💞💞

Out of curiosity: scale of 1-5 🗡️, how badly did it hurt?