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mandalorewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man.

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake.

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again.

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off as a droid.

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment.

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason. Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

“I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness.

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond.

“Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

“Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

“O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

“Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine.

“Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops.

He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.”

There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.”

A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?”

“That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

“Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you.

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

“16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous.

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind.

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer.

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions.

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?”

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?”

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze.

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet.

“Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness.

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away.

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling.

“You can carry it from now on.”

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit?

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire.

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry.

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

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

You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you.

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on.

You wish they would fear you like that.

Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

“Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

“I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

“Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

“It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

“Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector.

Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

“She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you.

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip.

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job.

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology.

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome.

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time.

“I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger.

“Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted.

“My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose.

After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.”

You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

“I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

“Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

“On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this.

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.”

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously.

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it.

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants. He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.”

He waves back. “You as well, girl.”

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

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

It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere.

As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about.

Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path.

It’s almost funny how quickly things go south.

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated.

“I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison.

The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement.

The blast misses by a few inches.

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here.

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof.

He saved your ass. Again.

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there.

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about.

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is.

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it.

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?”

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street.

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

The walk back to the Crest is short.

You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall?

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you.

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp.

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot.

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it.

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot.

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that.

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?”

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles.

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again.

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him.

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan.

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now.

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire.

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach.

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead.

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal.

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian.

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.”

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that.

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath.

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit.

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game.

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-”

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life.

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-”

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt.

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims.

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours.

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing.

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.”

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator.

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.”

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks.

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness.

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

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

It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this.

“Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly.

And so you do.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #fanfic #smut fic #mando x you #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian fanfic #smut #din djarin #star wars #star wars fic #fanfiction

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

Text

an americano

Remus X Reader (coffee shop AU)

Summary: He always asked for the same coffee order, but one day, he finally asks for your name.

A/n: So, I put up a post and the lovely @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room responded first with a request for a Remus drabble so here it is! Our soft nervous precious Remus. I limited myself to about 1k words, so it is truly a drabble, but I’m willing to do a part two if y’all are into it. It’s super cute, and yes, I may or may not be a barista at a coffee shop, but that’s beside the point. and I am seriously judging you if you like americanos

“So, you come here often?”

He had been coming here for weeks. Maybe a few months. And every time he followed the same routine. He’d walk from the small bookshop across the way and into my café just as my shift was coming to its midway point. Always in a jumper. Always with a beat-up satchel. He’d order an americano and sit in the corner booth and tap on his laptop and work through a book, frowning and typing again, until his coffee was gone, and he seemed satisfied with his progress.

Remus. The name he’d put for the order. The first time I wrote it on his cup was customary. By his third visit, I didn’t bother. I knew who he was. By his fifth, he just waved, and I smiled, already pulling the shot of espresso for his americano. After a while I’d write stupid things on his cup. The slower days when we were the only two in the café. The color of his jumper, a silly variation of his name, whatever the main character of his book was.

“Seeing as I work here,” I baited with a smile. “Yes,”

“Right,” He stammered. “Um...”

“Do you want another coffee?” I prompted, as he looked down, blushing a bright pink.

“I... uh.” He finally glanced up. “I don’t know your name,” He rushed out.

I looked at him a moment, taken by surprise.

“And I would ask you to join me for coffee, when you’re off your shift of course... or maybe on your day off if you even want to not that you have to, but I realize that I can’t exactly do that if I don’t know your name, so...” His nervousness left me scrambling to keep up with his rushed words.

“Y/n,” I gave a reassuring smile. “And I’ll join you for coffee as long as I don’t have to drink an americano,”

Now it was his turn to look shocked. As if my acceptance of his offer wasn’t expected.

“I’m sorry, what?” He stumbled.

“Americanos,” I clarified. “I don’t know how you manage them, because they’re just awful,”

Whatever he had been thinking was abandoned to defend his drink of choice.

“They’re not that bad,” He refuted. “And I’m lactose intolerant, so I don’t really have much of a choice,”

I pursed my lips and chuckled. “Go sit, I’ll be there in a minute,” I sat across from him, setting a cup of coffee in front of him that held a warm amber color. He studied me and the cup.

“This has milk in it,” He accused.

“Oat milk, completely lactose free,” I rose my own mug of coffee. “It’s the only way I take my coffee anymore. I haven’t put any sugar in it, I don’t know how sweet you like it and I didn’t want to overdose you,”

“Oat milk,” Remus pondered, picking up a fair share of sugar packets. “I never would have thought of that,”

“Here’s to good coffee, not watered-down espresso,” I raised my mug and we both took a sip together and I watched his eyes widen at the coffee in his cup.

“This is brilliant,” His eyes lit up.

“You’d think that after the few months you’ve been here constantly, you’d figure out we had non-dairy options,” I teased lightly, and he blushed slightly.

“I... I was distracted. So, I ordered what I knew,” He stammered, staring at his coffee.

“Distracted?” I pressed. “Lost in too many books then?”

“Well, yes. But no,” He chuckled. “There’s this pretty barista who works here that keeps me off balance.” I hid behind my mug my cheeks warming.

“That so?” I tried to play off, but he caught my flush and grinned. “Then why the hell did it take you three months to ask for my name?” I accused, chuckling.

“Well, I don’t know!?” He laughed. “You just so... you!”

“What is that even supposed to mean!?” I giggled.

“I don’t know,” His face was red from the laughter and the unanswered questions.

“I’m glad you did finally ask,” I admitted, fidgeting with a spare napkin. “Are you a student? You’re always here with a book,”

“Grad student,” He clarified. “Working on my dissertation. I have an internship at the shop across the way,”

“You’re there most days that I work,” I noted. “You always come for coffee,”

“Yeah, well,” He ducked his head. “I may or may not have accidentally memorized your schedule, so that our hours are close to the same,” We both blushed again.

“Little creepy,” I raised an eyebrow, “And kinda a shame. I’d love to come and bug you while you’re working,”

“Oh... I—you like to read?” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he backtracked. “Not to say that you don’t! But it’s a shop filled with—”

“Vintage books, classics, literature, mythology. I know,” I smiled. “I frequent there. Even before you came around,”

“Really?”

I nodded and nursed my coffee. “I might not seem like it, but I’m also a student. I work here for the extra cash,”

“Right,” He fumbled. “I—read anything interesting lately?” He redirected the conversation, and I could tell that he was more comfortable with the topic. It wasn’t hard to pick up that he wasn’t one for small talk, but his eyes lit up at the mere mention of a book.

“Some work by De Pizan, my professor is doing a seminar on her,” I gave. “It’s really interesting, I’m enjoying it a lot,”

“De Pizan,” He mused. “Middle Ages? Rhetorist, right?” I nodded and smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve read anything of hers for class, or fun or that matter. I remember liking her work though, she was a proto-feminist,”

“Yes...” I was surprised by his base of knowledge.

“Sorry, I know I ramble,” He ducked his head.

“I think it’s cute,”

“Oh... well,” Remus was becoming a permanent shade of pink.

“You don’t do this sort of thing often do you?” I prompted.

“What gave it away?”

“Well, I mean there is the whole name ordeal. Then of course, you’re a shy book nerd, that’s obvious, but honestly, you’re nervous for all the wrong reasons,” I supplied.

He gaped at me as if he didn’t know what to address about what I said first. While he was deciding, I reached out and placed my hand over his.

“As someone else with anxiety, let me tell you, you’re doing just fine.”

“Yeah?” His eyes were hopeful.

I nodded and glanced at the clock. “Well, my break is over, but you’re welcome to hang out.” I stood, gathering both of our empty mugs. “And thanks... for finally asking,”

masterlist

more like this:

hufflepuff dating headcannons

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im-not-a-joke · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do headcanons of hogwarts AU byler and elmax?

yes, yes i can

(im also throwing henclair in here because i love them)

(also this is probably going to be either really long or multiple parts)

- mike, lucas, and max are gryffindors

- will and el are hufflepuffs

- dustin is a ravenclaw

- the boys have been friends since forever since they all have at least one magic parent and their parents are friends

- they meet el on the train

- these five eleven year olds are all squished together on the train

- el’s parents were wizards but she was orphaned and hop is a muggle so she has no idea what shes doing

- anyway so the boys all meet at the platform and they get on together and find a seat together and such right

- (dustin and will are vaguely aware of their not-straightness at this point, just thought i should throw that in)

- so el is like wandering right and shes shy and wont ask to sit with anyone

- mike sees her wandering and is like “heY come sit with us!!!1!!!”

- so she squishes in next to him

- both el and will are quiet(tm)

- but for different reasons, new people make will nervous and el has no clue what is happening here so shes stressed

- but they all bond anyways its wholesome

- so they also ride the same carriage to the school

- and will gets sorted first and steve is so proud to have one of his children in his house

- dustin is glad to know someone else in ravenclaw, and jonathan introduces him to robin, they get along very well

- the wheelers are like the weasleys in the fact that they are all gryffindors, so theres not much surprise there

- so el and will bond more from being housemates

- mike and lucas meet this spunky redhead girl in their year and lucas is like “sweet a new friend” and mike is like “i dont trust her”

- so they introduce max to the rest of the party and theyre all bfs now its great

- ok so i should probably get to the part where theyre all gay shouldnt i

- i just love hogwarts aus okay-

- will has a breakdown in the hufflepuff common room because hes not supposed to be feeling this way for a boy

- steve finds him and comforts him to the best of his ability

- finding your boyfriend’s little brother crying over something is an odd experience give him some slack

- meanwhile in the ravenclaw common room

- “i think i like boys” “sweet little dude”

- meanwhile in the gryffindor common room

- max lucas and mike are just laying on the floor staring up at the celing

- max starts them off by just being like “yo el is really pretty”

- and then lucas is like “yeah but so is dustin”

- these statements prompt mike to be like “yall have no taste, have you ever looked at will” which sends all of them into rants about their crushes and they talk over each other and its a mess

- nancy comes down and finds them, immediately rolls her eyes, and leaves

- during all of this, el is just kinda daydreaming about max and not getting her homework done

- at christmas, the boys convince their parents to invite el and max to their annual party

- max comes alone and all of the parents are concerned

- hop is very intrigued by the magic world and fits right in to the parent group

- anyways mike either has no filter or cannot speak around will and max and lucas lose it every time

- el has got moves

- max is very flustered

- dustin and lucas are both simultaneously vibing and constantly panicked

- “yeah this is chill” “aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

- they have study groups for exams

- this is very good for lucas, who can do things well technically, but cannot do them in practice

- so dustin helps him and is flustered the whole time

- el is really good at charms so she helps everyone (max always seems to mess up) with that

- max is also good at charms but likes the attention so purposefully messes up

- will and mike are both great at herbology so they tend to lecture the group about that together and they get off topic and occasionally it ends with them both mumbling and just staring into each others eyes,

- lucas and max lose it again and dustin and el are tired

- max ends up going from house to house that summer so she doesnt have to stay with her own family

- hop loves having max around so she stays there the most

- el is very happy about that

#this took longer than it should have #carson rambles #elmax #byler #byeler #henclair #friend bella

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sixtyeightdays · 4 years ago

Note

Timinette social media or timinette with being underappreciated?

i am so sorry this took so long but i hope you like this! :)

i kind of strayed off topic a little and its a little mess so im sorry for that but i hope this is okay

this will have some bruce bashing so uh yeah

theres also tim and jason brotherly bonding because i am a sucker for brotherly bonding fics.

also, tim, mari, chloe (basically the parisian folks) are 16. jason is 19, dick is 23, and damian 13.

Timothy Drake Wayne had had his issues with his own self worth before.

Unlike everyone else in the family, he hadn’t been born into the family, or even been chosen to be part of it. This did sometimes result in a severe drop in Tim’s confidence levels, but he always managed to bring it back up.

Eventually, Tim found that the best way to deal with it was just to accept it. Not act out on it or anything. No, it was best to just accept it and be on his way.

At first, he had fought the unwanted thoughts invading his head, but appointing him as CEO of Wayne Enterprises had been the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

If they didn’t want me in the family, why would they make me CEO of Wayne Enterprises? Tim thought.

But then it pushed itself into Tim’s mind.

Because they don’t want you at the manor.

Tim shoved the thought away and shook his head, looking out the plane window.

Just.. accept it. There’s nothing he could to but accept it. He had no one to talk to either.

Damian would probably jeer at him and call him a weakling. Tim didn’t really need that. Bratty little 13 year old, that one. Besides, Damian wouldn’t care about it anyway, probably just tattle on him in hopes of getting Red Robin benched permanently.

He had contemplated talking to Dick about it for a while. After all, Dick was the ever so helpful Golden Boy. But then he decided against it. Of everyone in the family, Tim would never expect Dick of all people to understand issues with self worth. Dick was told very often that he was loved, wanted. Dick would probably tell Bruce anyway, and that was the last thing Tim wanted.

Jason.. well he was busy. He was always busy. Regardless of how his and Jason’s relationship had drastically improved, he wasn’t ready to open up about this. Don’t get him wrong, Tim was glad that he and his old hero had started to make amends, and now Jason had barely any qualms in calling Tim his brother, and that he could call him whenever he wanted. It made a rush of warmth erupt in his chest whenever he heard it.

But, he just didn’t feel ready to talk to him about it. To anyone about it.

Now, it was Monday morning and he was on his way to Paris in the Wayne company jet, because some rich designer named Gabriel Agreste requested some sort of business partnership.

There was also a designer called MDC that Tim was very interested in meeting. He was a huge fan of her work. He had checked out her website and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of her work, especially since she had no employees and made everything herself.

The fact that she was Jagged Stone’s honorary niece had also contributed to Tim wanting to commission a MDC original.

He had contacted her a before the plane left, and lucky for him, she had decided to meet him at his hotel on Thursday after lunch to discuss and take measurements

It was partially why when Bruce asked him to go to Paris, he didn’t fuss. He didn’t even protest about how being in Paris would affect Red Robin’s patrol. He had just nodded and left.

It had been a very last minute decision, and he hadn’t even had time to tell Jason about it. He had left a few hours after Bruce told him about it.

Tim sighed, leaning his head against the cool window of the plane, taking a sip from the coffee mug he held in his hands.

He admittedly zoned out for the rest of the journey, but in his defense, there was only an hour left on that flight anyway.

Stepping off the plane with his baggage, he made his way to the exits and after checking out of the airport, hailed a cab to bring him to his hotel, Le Grande Paris.

He may or may not have also zoned out on his 15 minute long ride to the hotel. Tim felt bad for the very nice taxi driver whom he had ignored, and gave him a very generous tip. After all, it wasn’t like he needed the money.

Judging from the wide eyed and awed glance the driver shot him as he left, the driver appreciated it very much.

Walking into the hotel lobby, checking in and waiting for the room key to be given to him, Tim already knew he was going to turn down Gabriel’s offer.

His research had shown that Gabriel was a recluse and hadn’t left his house in years. His assistant, one Nathalie Sancouer went on appointments with him on a call. He was also seemingly cold to his only son, which didn’t fly well with Tim, especially since the son was the same age as him.

He was expected to finish more work in Paris, especially since there was no rogues to disrupt anything.

He was not expecting a petite bluenette to crash into him and change his outlook on life.

The girl who bumped into him blushed profusely and apologised while two blondes, a girl and a boy laughed behind her.

She shot the two a playfully stern look, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes had the same glint Selina had when she saw Bruce. Playful, yet deadly. It was amazing how fast the blondes shut up.

“I’m Tim.” He shook Marinette’s hand, slightly charmed by the blushing girl.

“I’m Marinette. Are you checking in? I can escort you to your room. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

Tim was startled. Marinette did not seem to have any idea that she was talking to CEO of WE. She was talking to him like he was Tim. Just Tim. He was intrigued by the girl. The way she said her sentence, she wasn’t boasting or showing off, she was stating a mere fact out of politeness and the kindness of her heart.

You don’t see that around much anymore, Tim mused. It was like a breath of fresh air.

He nodded in acceptance and showed her the room number on the key that he was given before she had bumped into him. Her eyes widened.

“Well, looks like you’re on the floor I was already going to. Chloe lives here. Her father runs the hotel, and all the penthouses are on the same floor.” Marinette waved her hand at the blonde girl who was laughing earlier.

The girl stuck out a hand. “My name’s Chloe, the pleasure’s all yours.”

Tim’s lips curved into a smile as he shook her hand. “I’m Tim.”

Chloe pointed to the boy next to her. “That’s Adrien.”

Tim recognised him. He was that Agreste boy. The son of Gabriel Agreste, who he was supposed to meet on Thursday. Tim vaguely wondered if Adrien was going to be there for the meeting.

Tim didn’t like it when people announced out loud that he was a Wayne. So he didn’t do that to Adrien. Tim just shook his hand with a smile. Adrien smiled back, and Tim could see that gratitude in his eyes.

Tim nodded and his mind drifted to Marinette. She seemed rather nice, and she didn’t seem like the type of person to take advantage of rich kids. He decided to ive her the benefit of the doubt. Obviously, Chloe and Adrien trusted her, so he was willing to be open minded about this.

Besides, on the unlikely chance that she was trying to suck up to rich kids, Tim could very easily sue her, or at the very least, scare her off.

Marinette, Chloe and Adrien took the lift up with him, the four falling into an easy banter. Tim was very glad he had become fluent in French a few months prior to going on this trip.

Once they reached the outside of Tim’s suite, however, Marinette turned to Tim.

“Do you, maybe wanna join us after you put your things down?”

Tim grinned. “Why, I’d love to.”

It was the right thing to do. The four of them had a blast, and Tim knew now more than ever that Marinette genuinely liked the company of the two blondes and that she wasn’t just using them. He didn’t think she was, but it didn’t hurt to check.

They had hung out together, from that afternoon to late in the night, to around 9 maybe? Tim wasn’t sure. Tim felt a warm rush of joy flow throughout his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he had hung out with anyone that weren’t using him for his money or weren’t his family.

The four had become really close and the three Parisians probably knew more about Tim that his whole family did put together at this point.

Tim couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose so freely.

It was funny how it worked. Tim didn’t know why, but he had the comforting feeling that they could be trusted. Sure, they hadn’t known him for long, but he felt a sense of comfort with them, more comfortable than he’d ever felt with Bruce, hell, more than even Alfred.

Tim didn’t tell them all of his secrets, obviously, Red Robin being one of them. But it was okay. Unlike Bruce, who would research and pry into his business, Chloe, Marinette and Adrien shrugged it off.

“We’re all entitled to our own secrets.” Marinette had told him.

It made Tim wonder what kind of secrets the three were keeping, but he brushed it off. If he didn’t have to spill his secrets, the three didn’t either.

Eventually, night fell, but only Adrien left. Tim had looked to Marinette questioningly, and she just shrugged.

“His dad needs him back. I told Maman I was staying over with Chlo tonight. It’s not a school night after all.” She shrugged.

It was funny how much Tim trusted the three. He trusted them more than he trusted Bruce, at this point. Even if the trust he had in Bruce wasn't much to go on, it was surprising how easily the ex-Robin trusted the Parisians. But then again, life worked in strange ways, and this may have one of its strangest yet.

But Tim didn't protest. He rather liked the Parisians and like he's said, he trusted them. And from the looks they all gave him throughout the day, fulling of laughter and openness, he knew without a doubt that they trusted him too.

Among all three Parisians, Tim had bonded with Marinette the most.

Firstly, while the three were a formidable trio, Chloe and Adrien, it seemed, were childhood friends. They were extremely comfortable around each other, and it wasn’t like they were trying to leave Marinette out. They included her in everything they could, but the noirette occasionally bowed out and let the two friends do their thing.

Secondly, Tim was pretty sure that the two didn’t normally have so much childhood games. He was pretty sure they were making some of them up on the spot.

If Tim didn’t know better, he’d say Adrien and Chloe were trying to set him and Marinette up.

Marinette. The amazing little bluenette that crashed into him and changed his outlook on life.

Yes, he had only known her for less than a day, but they just clicked.

Marinette had tried not to, but it was obvious that her self esteem was at an all-time low, much like his. When Tim had asked Chloe and Adrien why when Marinette was in the bathroom, they had filled him in on how a girl named Lila at their school was bullying her and spouting lies about her.

“How bad are her lies?” Tim questioned.

“She saved Jagged Stone’s kitten from a airplane runway.” Chloe said.

Tim spit out his coffee.

“She misses months of school to be in Achu to work with Prince Ali for Go Green campaigns.” Adrien continued.

Tim didn’t know Achu or Prince Ali very well, but he was pretty sure the prince only did Helping Children Campaigns. He took a sip of his coffee.

“Her latest one? I was dating Damian Wayne, but he and his brother fought over me and now I’m dating Timothy Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises!” Chloe said the last part in a nasally, simpering tone that was obviously meant to be Lila’s voice.

Tim choked. Lila was 16! Damian was 13! Tim mentally filed a reminder to sue this Lila girl. Also, his love life was rather pathetic. He hadn’t dated since Stephanie. Lila’d would probably do a better job going after Jason if he weren’t with Roy. Wait, no. Jason didn’t like psychopaths. Or maybe he did, Tim wasn’t too sure.

“That was pretty accurate.” Adrien looked slightly impressed.

Tim shuddered. What kind of sicko had a voice like that?

Marinette had come out of the bathroom at that point, and all three of them effectively shut up. She looked concerned and asked Tim if he was okay and why he was so pale.

He shook his head. “I’m cool, cool, cool.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to be suave and Marinette laughed.

Tim’s expression softened at the melodic sound. Chloe and Adrien exchanged a look before smirking at Tim.

Marinette had subtly complimented him a lot over the span of a few hours, and Tim had felt his confidence level slowly rising. It made Marinette smile.

Tim had returned the favor, and by the end of the next day, he and Marinette had almost as many inside jokes as Adrien and Chloe did.

(Chloe had walked Adrien to the door, and Tim and Marinette had hid from Chloe in Tim’s suite, giggling at Chloe’s playful irateness.

Tim had a great time.

He had also managed to finish most of his work beforehand.

He, along with Chloe and Adrien, had gone to Marinette’s house on Wednesday, and the four of them had spent the whole day in a peaceful silence doing their work.

Chloe and Adrien had finished their school work early and had copied their work into Marinette’s workbook. Tim had smiled at the sight because he was rather happy that Marinette had friends who were willing to do this sort of thing for her.

Marinette had spent the whole day working on several commissions, sketching the designs and sewing them out. Tim had been shocked by how many different types of fabric the bluenette had in her closet. Chloe and Adrien had shot him a look that said “get used to it”.

Tim was pleasantly that no one had disturbed him while he was doing his work. they had all done their own work respectively, and even when they were done, like Chloe and Adrien, they had kept quiet and didn’t make any noise to disrupt Tim and Marinette, apart form their whispered chatter.

In Gotham, Tim would almost always be interrupted by rogue attacks or his brothers and father. It made it almost impossible to finish his work on time, and resulted in many overtimes and no sleep.

Marinette’s parents, a happy baker couple who’d persuaded Tim to call him Tom and Sabine instead of Mr and Mrs Dupain Cheng, had stocked them up with a steady supply of pastries and amazing coffee. It was probably expected, they did own a bakery after all.

Tim swore that the Dupain Chengs’ pastries could rival Alfred’s.

While Tim was looking at Marinette work, he was taken aback by her efficiency and quality of her sewing. Normally, one jacket would take a day to make, including handmade embroidery. Marinette had done it within two hours from scratch.

Tim was tempted to commission her, but it seemed that her plate was already full, so he didn’t. Either way, he had come to meet with Gabriel Agreste and possibly MDC.

When they were all done with their work, after spending practically the whole day in Marinette’s room from 9 in the morning to 6 in the evening, they decided to go get dinner.

Tom and Sabine bid them goodbye heartily before turning to their customers and pulling a tray out of the oven.

Tim had met Chloe and Adrien’s significant others. A rather cold girl named Kagami, and chill looking boy named Luka. (Tim thought that Kagami and Chloe, and Luka and Adrien suited each other and balanced out perfectly.)

Originally, Tim had thought that Luka was dating Marinette. After Luka had hugged Adrien, he had turned to Marinette and called her ‘his Melody’. It didn’t help that she called him ‘her Harmony’.

Tim totally did not feel jealous.

But then Marinette groaned and nudged Tim in the ribs. “I guess we’re fifth wheeling.”

“Aren’t you dating Luka?” He pointed to the green haired boy.

Chloe and Adrien clutched their stomachs, laughing, while Kagami and Luka smiled. “Nope. Mari-hime is single.’’ Tim swore the fencer stared into his soul.

Tim was not afraid to admit that Kagami scared him more than the Joker did. Okay, maybe the Joker was a far stretch. Killer Croc or Two-Face maybe.

Luka leaned down and gave Adrien a peck on the lips. The model blushed and Luka grinned, exposing two slightly sharp canines, much like a snake’s.

It was currently mid November, so it was pretty cold. But Tim didn’t see why Mari was wearing a layer of heattech, a long-sleeved sweatshirt, a hoodie, and her winter coat, plus her hat, earmuffs and gloves.

She looked like a puffy marshmallow. A very pink, cute marshmallow.

Luka had shot him a ‘it’s better not to ask’ look and Tim wisely kept quiet.

They had a great time at dinner. Tim and Mari had an amazing time. Tim wasn’t entirely sure about the others, he was too busy paying attention to Mari.

The crinkle of her eyes when she smiled, the red flush from the cold dusting over her freckles lightly, the bluebell colour of her eyes.

He didn’t notice the ‘he’s so whipped’ looks from everyone else. Luka shrugged.

“Well who doesn’t like Melody once they meet her?”

Everyone else shrugged. “Fair point.” Chloe muttered, burying her head in the crook of Kagami’s neck.

Suddenly, screams broke out from nearby. Marinette immediately ceased talking and whipped around to face her friends. Tim looked very confused at her actions but looked worriedly to where the screams were coming from.

Suddenly, the floor rumbled and they all looked up to see baby August, who had been akumatised into Gigantitan again.

Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Luka and Kagami immediately herded Tim back to Mari’s house, where they hastily climbed up the stairs to the loft.

“Tim, stay here.” Kagami ordered.

“What is this?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s an akuma attack.” Chloe shrugged, looking not at all fazed.

Actually, Tim noticed, none of them looked fazed in the slightest.

“This is maybe August’s 7th time getting akumatised?” Luka said. “He’s relatively harmless though. It happens a lot.”

“Wait, where’s Marinette and Adrien?” Tim questioned, suddenly noticing that they were missing.

Kagami, Luka and Adrien exchanged a glance. “They’ll be fine.” Chloe waved offhandedly, logging into Marinette’s computer to turn on the live news from Nadja Chamack.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!” A pink haired lady was standing abnormally close to where Gigantitan was. Tim felt slightly worried for her.

“I’m Nadja Chamack, and we’re here at another akuma attack. It seems to be just baby August, however, so don’t worry. Ladybug and Chat will be here soon enough!”

Tim was appalled at the lengths this woman was seemingly willing to go to to get the scoop.

Noticing his expression, Luka smiled. “Don’t worry, Tim. She’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?” If Tim let this happen, he was very sure that Bruce would murder him for a) getting that lady killed b) not helping. “I have to help!”

Chloe pushed him back into the chair where he was attempting to rise. “Sit down.” She ordered.

Tim didn’t want to, but he was interrupted by Nadja speaking again.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are on the scene!” The camera view zoomed into a pigtailed girl in red and black spandex with a blonde boy in a leather catsuit. Tim vaguely wondered if he was Selina’s kid.

Tim’s eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw the two of them run up the side of the Eiffel Tower, with no grappling hook, no vault, nothing, before flipping off of it like a well oiled machine.

It was obvious that the two trusted each other to a deadly extent. They worked like two parts of a whole piece.

August swatted Ladybug away with a wave of his hand, flinging her into the Eiffel Tower so hard it dented.

Panic seized Tim’s stomach when Nadja Chamack was trampled on by August, effectively crushing her. When August lifted his foot, Tim looked away.

Chloe, Kagami and Luka did not look fazed, and Tim wondered why, before standing up again. Chloe pushed him back down.

“She’ll be fine, relax. All of Paris have probably died at least, what, 9 times?” Kagami stated, crossing her arms. She levelled Tim with a steely glare and Tim cowered in his seat.

How did the League not know about this?

Suddenly, the person holding the camera cheered, as swarms of Ladybugs flew everywhere, fixing damages. Tim noted with relief that Nadja had reappeared in front of the camera, looking slightly confused but otherwise fine.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Tim staggered to the bathroom, and right when he was about to puke, two thuds landed behind him. Tim could see a green and pink light flash and he turned around to see what it was.

He was just in time to see Ladybug and Chat Noir detransform, leaving Adrien and Marinette, looking stunned.

That was it for Tim, he hurled.

And Marinette was there, brushing his hair out of his face and holding the back of his shirt so it wouldn’t get in the way. Adrien had edged out of the room, while an unfamiliar voice was chortling.

When Tim was done, he washed his mouth with shaky hands, and Marinette looked at him sympathetically and with a slight trace of fear. It was almost undetectable, but Tim had spent enough time with Cass to know when someone was scared, no matter how she tried to hide it.

Tim didn’t want Marinette to feel scared of him. He wanted her to feel safe around him. He shakily spun and engulfed her in his arms. Her body relaxed tremendously as she hugged him back.

He was taller than her by a only few inches, so Marinette’s head was comfortably buried in Tim’s chest. Tim was thankful that none of his vomit had gotten on his shirt.

“I like you, Mari. So, so much.” Tim confessed.

The bluenette he was holding wiggled in his arms, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.

“I like you too, Tim.” Her quiet voice broke into Tim’s train of thoughts as he panicked.

“I know, you probably don’t like me back but-- wait, what? You like me too?” Tim knew his voice had cracked but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I do.” Marinette confirmed, stepping on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Tim’s face flushed and Mari giggled.

“Does that mean you wanna--?” Tim blushed even more.

“Yes.” Marinette was obviously enjoying the way Tim was suffering right now.

“So.. it’s official?” Tim asked hopefully, looping his hand with Marinette’s.

“It’s official.” She grinned.

Adrien had interrupted them at that point, and after Tim changed into one of Marinette’s designs, a black, long sleeved shirt with ladybugs at the side, she and Adrien had explained about the miraculouses.

Chloe, Kagami and Luka revealed that they were also miraculous holders, but they were temporary heroes, even if they got to keep the miraculous on hand.

Marinette and Adrien were joint Guardians of the Miraculous, and they were something called true holders. The Ladybug and Chat miraculous were two halves of a whole, Adrien had explained. He and Mari were also the only permanent miraculous users chosen by the previous guardian, while Chloe, Kagami and Luka were chosen by Marinette.

Tim was then introduced to the some of the kwamis (Pollen, Tikki, Plagg, Sass and Longg), who referred to Marinette and Adrien as Guardians.

Tikki referred to Marinette as Mari, Plagg referred to her as Pigtails. Tikki referred to Adrien as Adrien, and Plagg referred to him as ‘kid’. It didn’t take a genius to know who wore the pants in their relationship.

Then, Marinette and Tim’s newborn relationship was brought to light, and Tim was sufficiently scared from the shovel talks given by the Parisians, as well as the kwamis. Marinette had laughed at him, and he had pouted for the rest of the night.

“I wield the power of Destruction in my hands so if you hurt Pigtails, I’ll cataclysm you. I sank Atlantis, so don’t try me.” Plagg’d scornfully stated.

Marinette had berated him and told him that Plagg really needed to stop sounding so proud that he sunk Atlantis, while Tim went pale and was reminded of his secret.

“Uh. Guys? I have to tell you something.” Tim wrung his hands together nervously. “You know how in Gotham, there are vigilantes?”

They nodded.

“I’m.. one of them? I’m Red Robin.” Tim squeaked.

There was silence, but then everyone, bar Marinette and Kagami burst into laughter.

“Only you, Melody, could create a love square with only two people and still somehow fall in love with a superhero.”

Mari flushed and Tim looked confused. “Who..?”

Everyone pointed to Adrien. He shrugged.

“M’Lady and I are soulmates.” He winked, intertwining his and Marinette’s hands.

“But we’re platonic soulmates.” Adrien dramatically let go of Marinettte’s hand. “Adrien had a crush on Ladybug. Marinette had a crush on Adrien.” He explained further.

Realisation dawned on Tim and he fell back into Marinette’s lap as she groaned at the way Adrien worded it.

“You suck.” She deadpanned.

Adrien had the gall to grin at her. “I’m also the one you share a soul with.”

She rolled her eyes.

Everyone had a nice laugh, but they all fell asleep rather quickly. It had been an emotionally and physically exhausting day for all of them.

The next day was Tim’d meeting with Gabriel Agreste. Tim wasn’t sure if the others knew he was Bruce Wayne’s son, but he figured if they didn’t he may as well surprise them.

So Tim left a note for them, and left 15 minutes prior to the meeting at 9, leaving the his friends in Marinette’s room.

hey guys, i have a business meeting at 9. i’ll come back as soon as i’m done, which will be 10? latest. i’ll probably be back before you guys wake up. i hope i will. bye for now. see u mari <3 love, tim.

His friends. Tim’s heart warmed. This was the first time he had made friends that weren’t his family, or superhero buddies.

Tim arrived at Agreste Manor at 9 on the dot, ringing the doorbell. An electronic camera shot out from the wall and Tim jumped.

The person behind the camera opened the gate, and a buff man escorted him into the Manor, where Gabriel was waiting.

He was standing at the top of the steps, looking down at Tim. He inclined his head, and Tim followed the elder Agreste into his office.

The meeting went faster than expected. Tim had been expecting Gabriel to persuade him, but he had let Tim go. Instead of the half an hour meeting Tim was expecting,it was only twenty minutes.

Gabriel had offered a partnership with the Waynes in which he’d design for them, and they’d sponsor him. Tim had politely declined, and Gabriel looked slightly put out, waving to the buff man to escort him out.

Adrien had walked into the manor as soon as Tim reached the center of the room. Adrien stopped short.

“Tim? What are you doing here?”

Tim pointed to behind him, where Gabriel’s office was. “Business meeting.” He repeated, and waited for Adrien to connect the dots.

His eyes widened. “You’re Timothy Drake? CEO of Wayne Enterprises?”

Tim nodded. Adrien’s eyes widened before he smirked. “Have you told Mari?”

“I was gonna tell her today.”

“Nah, she has a meeting at like 2, with a client.”

Tim frowned, but then shrugged. “I’ll tell her before.” He decided. “I have a meeting at 2 too.”

Adrien nodded and smiled. “Treat her right.” He said, before entering his room.

Tim smiled, even after Adrien was out of sight. “I will.”

Tim had a few hours before his meeting with MDC. He made his way back to the bakery, where he was greeted with a peck on the cheek by Marinette.

“Chloe went back to the hotel, Harmony and Gami have school, and Adrien had to go home.” She beamed. So cute.

Marinette and Tim spent the few hours eating lunch in Mari’s room and watching Netflix, judging the shipping potential between the Brooklyn Nine Nine characters.

They had agreed that Teddy was boring and annoying, Jake and Amy were a power couple, and Rosa was a badass .

Marinette really liked Gina, Tim preferred Holt.

Soon, it was time for the meeting. Tim and Mari both had to go back to Le Grande Paris, so they opted to walk there together.

“Who are you meeting?” Tim asked curiously.

“Some CEO named Timothy Drake.” She replied.

Tim stopped. He turned to Marinette.

“Timothy Drake.” He repeated. Marinette gave him an odd look. “Do you know him?” She asked.

“You’re MDC?” Tim’s voice came out strangled and Marinette looked taken aback.

Understanding dawned on her and she stared at Tim. “You’re Timothy Drake?”

He only nodded.

They stared at each other for a minute but then burst out into laughter, causing a nearby mother on the phone to shoot them a nasty look.

After the initial shock wore off, the two had continued to the hotel. They were on the way, anyway, and they could always either visit Chloe or stay in Tim’s suite.

Marinette giggled as she worked, deftly taking Tim’s measurements.

“Normally this takes forever,” Tim remarked, peering over Marinette’s shoulder and watching in awe as she drew out the design for his suit.

Within minutes, it was done. Tim was amazed by it. It was a simple suit, but the colours she encorporated into it as well as the designs made Tim extremely happy. It managed to capture his essence, and look stylish at the same time.

She’d even drawn a design for the tie! (instead of blue, it’s red)

After about three hours of Marinette working in Tim’s suite (she had gone home and gotten the fabrics and used the sewing machine she always leaves in Chloe’s room), as well as Tim finishing his remaining paperwork for WE, the suit was done. Tim was awed by it.

The suit jacket was a nice, velvety maroon colour that was reminiscent of Tim’s Red Robin suit and Marinette’s Ladybug suit. The inside was a black colour, as another tribute to the colour schemes of Tim and Mari’s secret life.

The tie was the same deep red colour of the suit. What Tim loved the most about it, however, were the tiny coffee cups sewn on it. “A personal touch.” Marinette had said.

There was also the letter T embroidered on the back of the tie and the lapel of the suit right next to the MDC emblems.

“What do you think?” Marinette asked nervously.

“I love it!” Tim lifted Marinette up by the waist, spinning her in the air. She laughed with joy and he put her down but still in his arms.

He cupped his cheek and Marinette’s hand wrapped around his neck. Simultaneously, they leaned in and their lips met in a chaste kiss.

Marinette ran her free hand through Tim’s hair as Tim’s free hand pulled her closer to him by the waist.

Suddenly, the door burst open and they jumped apart.

It was Chloe, smirking wildly, her phone camera raised.

It didn’t take a genius to know what happened next.

Mari and Tim chased Chloe around the hotel to get her to delete the photo. Chloe crowed loudly that she was going to send the photo to Adrien, Luka and Kagami.

(Mari and Tim did catch her but Chloe had already sent the text.)

The six friends had a buttload of fun the next few days. Occasionally incorporating their work into the mix, Tim had never been so on time to hand in his paperwork.

On Saturday, a few hours before Tim was supposed to go to the airport to get on the Wayne private jet, the six were in Chloe’s room.

The only sound that could be heard was the faint chatter between Chloe and Kagami who were talking together, the soft strums of Luka on his guitar and Adrien next to him constantly dying while playing Subway Surfers and him raging not-so-quietly. Tim’s head was leaning on two pillows in Marinette’s lap, typing on his laptop which was propped up on his lap while Mari’s pencils scratched against the paper in her sketchbook.

It wasn’t exactly silence, but it was peaceful. An almost silence, if you would.

Until a phone blared to life.

Everyone jumped as the shrill sound of Tim’s ringtone pierced through the peaceful almost silence.

Tim cringed. “Sorry!” He called.

He swiped the accept button without looking to see who it was, mildly pissed off.

“What?” He snapped into the phone.

“TIMMY!” A familiar voice burst out. Marinette jumped and dropped her sketchbook on Tim’s face, glaring at the phone. Tim pulled the phone away from his ear, and put a finger to his mouth before pushing the speaker button.

“Tim? You okay?”

“Apart from you bursting my eardrums, I’m fine. What do you want, Jason?” Tim answered dryly. He wasn’t sure if his irritation could be heard through the phone but Jason picked it up.

“Not very nice to your favorite brother, now is it Timmy.” Tim could imagine Jason wagging a finger sarcastically in his face.

“Learned it from you, Jay. But seriously what do you want? I’m kinda busy.”

“You may wanna put your coffee cup down for this.”

Tim sighed and placed it on the floor.

“Now what?”

A bang was heard from outside and all of them, bar Tim and Mari (Tim was way too lazy to get out of Marinette’s comfortable lap, and she couldn’t get up with him in her lap) rushed to the door to see what was happening.

Some people had burst into Tim’s room across the hall.

Three guesses who.

“What are you doing, dumbasses?” Chloe’s exasperated voice rung out.

A man with a white tuft in hair was standing in the doorway turned around, phone in hand. He hung up on the call promptly.

“We were looking for our brother, Tim. The receptionist said he was in this room. Have you seen him?” An older man walked out of Tim’s room, with several others hot on his heels.

The shortest one was dark-haired and had green eyes, the other was a girl with chopped dark hair, an arm wrapped around a taller blonde girl’s waist. There was also a redhead in a wheelchair. The other two there were males, one was an near bald elderly, the other had blue eyes and dark hair and was rather tall.

That was six of them, Chloe noted. She and the others exchanged a look, debating whether or not to let them see Tim. After all, they could be lying and were kidnappers or something.

They obviously noticed the look. The tall one with blue eyes spoke. “You know him! Where is he? Did you kidnap him?”

Adrien choked trying to hold in his laughter. Luka patted him on the back calmly.

A tsk came from the inside of the room. Chloe looked back. Tim shrugged. It was her room, after all.

Chloe bit her lip, looking torn between letting them in or kicking them out. She looked to Kagami for help, and she nodded, but then inclined her head toward Chloe. Basically, ‘I think you should, Tim seems to know them. But he may not want to see them. Your call. Your room.’

The guy with the white tuft looked ready to barge in the room.

Chloe huffed and opened the door wider. She and the other stalked back to their seats with the echoing sound of ‘ridiculous, utterly ridiculous’. Everyone outside exchanged looks, and entered.

They were not expecting to see Tim in a girl’s lap, that was for sure.

Instead of the greeting they were expecting, Tim merely turned his head to look at them before huffing and returning his gaze to his laptop screen.

Marinette laid a hand protectively on Tim’s head and started running her fingers through his hair.

If they weren’t shocked before, they definitely were now. Their eyes practically bugged out of their head at the sight.

“Replacement?” Jason cautiously asked.

Tim huffed, much like Chloe, and Marinette ceased her ministrations. Tim whined, but Marinette levelled a glare at him and he sat up.

Marinette muttered softly, “I can see why your self confidence is so low.”

“Nah, Jason’s one of the nicer ones. It’s teasing.” Tim assured her. The girl only pouted and fell back into her seat, picking up Tim’s laptop to read what he was working on before Tim’s family rudely barged in.

Jason looked slightly touched.

Tim sighed and crossed his arms. “What are you guys doing here?” Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka slowly inched around Mari and Tim. This did not go unnoticed by the Waynes.

“We came to visit you, Timbo!” The tall one said.

Tim pinched his nose. “That’s Dick. Barbara. Cassandra. Stephanie. Alfred. Bruce. Damian. Jason.” Tim pointed to each of them in turn.

Luka spoke up. “I’m Luka. That’s Adrien, Chloe, Kagami and Marinette.” Marinette shifted when her name was called, exposing the laptop screen to the Waynes. Their eyes widened when they saw the bold letters ‘Murders and Muggings: Patrol Recap’.

Dick coughed into his hand, jerking his head towards the computer. Tim rolled his eyes at Dick’s attempt at being subtle.

Jason and Stephanie snickered. Dick looked offended.

Dropping all pretence out the window, Tim deadpanned. “They know my secret. Didn’t tell them about yours, though they’ve probably figured it out already.”

“You should’ve told us beforehand, Timothy!” Bruce looked like he was a second away from yelling. A steely glare from Kagami stopped him from doing just that. Cass looked at her in approval.

Marinette bristled at Bruce’s tone, but did not move from her seat. This wasn’t her battle to fight-- it was Tim’s.

Bruce pinched the end of his nose. “I’m disappointed in you, Timothy.”

Despite knowing Bruce was going to say that, Tim winced. Jason looked pissed and opened his mouth to say something, but someone else beat him to it.

“How dare you.” Marinette’s quiet voice shook with fury as she stood up. Tim squeezed her hand and let go. Adrien, Luka, Kagami and Tim instantly surrounded Tim, forming a protective circle around him.

“How dare you. Tim is the most wonderful person I know. Other from the idiot I share a soul with, my Harmony, my Dragon and Queenie, he is the only person who is genuinely kind and caring. He is the sweetest person I know and if you think you can step into our turf and belittle my boyfriend, you have another thing coming.” Marinette snarled.

Adrien stood up, stepping forward to stand next to Marinette. “I’ve only known Tim for a few days, but he means a lot to all of us. Like Marinette said, you will not step into our turf and be rude to our friend.”

“You underestimate how much power we have here.” Kagami moved over to the other side of Marinette, eyes flashing.

Chloe stood next to her. “I can very easily kick you out of this hotel, out of Paris, even. Tim is my friend, and we will not stand here and let you talk shit about how he disappointed you.”

Luka stood up, moving next to Adrien. “Like we said, Tim means a lot to us. You have no idea how much he does for all of you. He deals with your stupid company paperwork, even though he’s only 16 and it should be your job. He spends more time helping you on patrol and fighting rogues than paperwork but you scold him because he can’t finish as much as you’d like?”

Marinette’s normally warm blue eyes that were so full of love were now completely devoid of emotion. “That isn’t parenting, Bruce. That’s toxic.” She spat out Bruce’s name with so much loathing and hate, that he unconsciously took a step back.

Tim was very touched. No one had ever done that for him before. No one had the guts to stand up to Bruce Wayne or Batman. His eyes watered and he hastily wiped them away.

Bruce’s eyes flashed, and he strode forward. “I think you underestimate my power.” He spread his arms. “I’m Bruce Wayne. I can kill your career in a heartbeat. I can make sure you are never hired by anyone, nor will you ever be able to make a name for yourself. I’ve almost died before. Damian and Jason have. We deal with things you guys can only dream of. Sure, your father may be the mayor of Paris, Chloe, but I can easily kick him off his position of power. Don’t fuck with us.”

Marinette’s eyes flashed with surprise at Bruce’s declaration that Jason and Damian have died. Ignoring Bruce, she turned to Adrien, who was squinting at Damian.

“Do you want to heal them of the Lazarus pits? We can, after all. We’re Creation and Destruction.” Marinette spoke in the Guardian language.

Adrien side eyed the Waynes and nodded. “Even if Bruce is a bitch, Jason and Damian don’t deserve to live like that.”

Marinette and Adrien looked behind them, past Tim, to where the Kwamis were hiding. Plagg and Tikki nodded. After all, they could always wipe the Waynes’ memories if they weren’t willing to keep it a secret. The Waynes didn’t know what they were saying. Jason stifled a laugh when Adrien caled Bruce a bitch, but the Waynes instantly went on guard at the sound of Jason and Damian’s names (since their names can’t be translated).

Marinette and Adrien turned back to Tim and the others folded, closing the gap that they had left, so no one could lip read or learn from their body language what they were about to do.

Marinette and Adrien walked a few steps back, a few steps in front of Tim but a few steps behind the others. They smiled reassuringly at Tim. They weren’t going to hurt Jason or Damian. Tim nodded. He trusted them.

Tikki and Plagg zipped over to them and phased into their joined hands. Adrien and Marinette smiled to each other closing their eyes. They channelled the Guardian energy, Creation energy and Destruction energy.

They lifted their raised hands, and as if on command, Chloe and Kagami stepped aside, allowing the green and pink swirling energy in their conjoined hands to shoot towards Jason and Damian. The beam split halfway, hitting both Jason and Damian.

They braced themselves for pain, but they didn’t feel anything. They looked around, and saw the energy. The green colour of it was one everyone instantly recognised as the Lazarus Pit madness.

They could do nothing but watch as more and more green colours was sucked out of Jason and Damian before swirling upwards and over their heads into a ball of green energy.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the green stopped escaping them, and Jason and Damian could feel an immediate relaxation of their feelings. It was like there was anger and negative emotions buried into a pit of their minds, but they didn’t notice that it was there until it was gone.

The green energy ball was now as as big as a bowling ball. It churned once, and started shrinking. Something was compressing it and forcing it into a smaller ball. With a sizzle, it split into two. A pink ball and a green ball, the sizes of an apple.

However, the green ball wasn’t the Lazarus color green. It was a warm green, the colour of emeralds. Despite that, within both the pink and green shell had a green ball, the toxic colour of the Lazarus pit inside. It swirled around in their respective prisons, but couldn’t break free.

The balls of energy slowly drifted towards where Marinette and Adrien were standing with serene looks on their faces.

The pink shell hovered in front of Marinette, while the green one hovered in front of Adrien. The pink and green encasing the Lazarus green broke apart, and the pink and green energy shells flew into their conjoined hands.

Marinette and Adrien opened their eyes. They weren’t eyes anymore, just glowing eye sockets. Marinette’s were pink, and Adrien’s were green. The same colour of the shells, the others realised.

Now what was left were the fizzling balls of the Lazarus pits, its toxic green giving off an eerie glow.

Marinette and Adrien held up their free palms, and the balls rested on their waiting hands.

They looked to each other and seemed to be communicating before the plunged the balls into their chests.

Their whole body glowed for a second before lifting the two up in the air. The Waynes, Luka, Kagami and Chloe jumped when they started talking.

“This hurts.” Marinette admitted. Her face did not show any kind of discomfort. Adrien grinned. “Yeah, it does.” His didn’t either.

They shared a laugh before the green and pink faded, and the two plummeted onto the carpeted floor. Just before they hit it, the green and pink glowed softly again, allowing the two to land gently on the floor, feet first.

The light faded completely and Marinette and Adrien collasped in the chaise behind them, unclasping their hands and panting slightly. Plagg and Tikki zoomed out of their hands as soon as they separated and didn’t even bother hiding.

They plopped themselves on their chosens’ heads and all four of them began to nap.

“Did they..?” Dick uttered in disbelief.

Jason and Damian could only nod.

“Lazarus. Gone?” Cass pressed.

They nodded again.

“Forever?” Bruce croaked.

“Yep.” Marinette’s exhausted voice came from the chaise. Everyone spun to look at her. Chloe ran to her room’s kitchen, bringing out some honey, cookies, camembert, chocolate and eggs.

The active kwamis zoomed out form their hiding spot and got to work on their food. Marinette tiredly pushed herself to her feet, stumbling. Tim caught her. Marinette smiled gratefully at him, and gently scooped Tikki off her head. She reached over and got Plagg too.

She nudged Tikki with her finger and placed her next to the cookies. She didn’t bother to wake Plagg up; he’d wake up as soon as he smelt camembert. She placed him down, next to Tikki and they woke up, lazily nibbling on their foods.

Mari let out a breathy sigh and swayed on her feet. She curled up next to Adrien and started to snore.

Dick frowned. If she was dating Tim, why was she so cozy with Adrien?

He moved to wake them up.

Suddenly, he stiffened and fell to the floor.

Pollen stood behind them, antennae still poised after stinging Dick. “No one wake the Guardians up.”

Muffled protests from Dick on the ground.

“They share a soul, Dick, being next to each other recharged them faster.” Tim explained.

“They what now?”

well yes thats it.

i kinda got sloppy at the end because i spent almost 8 hours on this, and its only 8k words. im kinda proud of it though lol

no there will probably not be a part two, although i may upload this on ao3

anyway i hope you liked this !! <3

#maribat #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #mari and adrien are joint guardians bc i want them to be #i strayed off topic im sorry #tim drake #batfam #mild bruce bashing #ml x dc #mlb x dc #ml x dcu #mlb x dcu #miraculous ladybug #dcu #no more lazarus nonsense yay

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bandomslayed · 3 years ago

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I’m not saying you should focus more on racism, I’m just saying that that’s something that the community as a whole needs to focus on and try to repair, I’m sure they all already know that people don’t like their ships. If that’s an issue, then groups can have a strict age limit. Easy solve. The other things are things that can be taught and learned but with hostility all that’s going to happen is a deeper divide. You said you wanted to argue with people about the things you don’t like that they do in this community. I’m paraphrasing, but why not instead want to educate them. No one will ever react well to feeling like they’re being ridiculed or patronized. People worth spending your time on are the ones you can talk to without it being a shitshow. We’re having a dialogue. I’ve felt this entire time like everything I say, someone is going to search for one thing to deliberately misinterpret or magnify unnecessarily when, if there’s something that they have an issue with, it could be a perfect opportunity to educate me instead of people being hostile. I’m college educated and can think critically, I’m moderately well spoken, I’m open to instructive criticisms and discussing things that aren’t agreed upon so I’m just sort of confused by the fact that what I’m saying is being picked apart by other anons and to a degree, you. You all want to change my mind about age gaps, despite me being with someone older irl and feeling safe and genuinely valued for the first time in a relationship in my life so why do you think that calling my dead grandpa names, redirecting the conversation and then kinda mocking me when I attempt to understand wholly and agree with some of the things you’re saying? That’s not going to convince me or anyone else. It just makes people feel defensive. Reiterating here that I’m not saying YOU specifically need to talk about racism more, and I’m not trying to diminish your experience or anything like that In just saying that those topics (discrimination of any kind, abuse of any kind) in the community are things we should be discussing instead of ships we think aren’t comfortable. I feel uncomfortable with relationships in real life and in rp all the time but that isn’t up to me to say it’s wrong or bad. It’s no ones right to tell any two consenting adults that what they’re doing is wrong. But it is a human right to tell someone when they’re being insensitive, and that’s a flaw in the community that people can be educated on and learn to handle with more sensitivity and knowledge but we’re never going to reach that point if we’re all just hostile and cruel to one another. Also reiterating that I’m not using personal examples to get cred, I just like examples because I think using them shows where I’m coming from so that any person who wants to have a dialogue can have a frame of reference for why my opinions are what they are on any topic. If I’m wrong, or insensitive, or just kinda dumb I want to know that but simply telling me I’m wrong or insensitive or dumb doesn’t teach me how not to me. And this doesn’t just mean me, I mean the whole community. It will never improve if we all just talk about the things we don’t like and give no feasible solutions.

alright i see what you want so let me switch to my white pleaser voice and deliver since you're so keen on being patronizing and in the same breath, acting like me taking what you say "the wrong way" is the problem. in bullet points so next time u come back to keep going at it u can pinpoint exactly what it is i misconstrued because u will do it anyway.

you're asking the community as a whole to care more about racism but you're talking to me who's leading the conversation in the first place. i understand you didn't imply i specifically should care more about it, but you're still using racism to discredit my point of view on age gap relationships being an important topic to discuss as well, and watering it down to just me not liking people's plots when that is not the message.

nobody is telling anyone how to live their lives. im bringing awareness to the fact that this culture is not okay. it's dangerous to our young. it NEEDS to be uncomfortable to you (you, plural) to invite to this so called critical thinking.

im not saying your partner doesn't have a right to be loving or grandpa and grandma had abuse masked as a good relationship. im saying, since it needs to be spelled out with no room for misinterpretation; the culture behind someone 10+ years older finding it completely okay to pursue someone that much younger — especially when we're talking 18 - 30 age range — needs to be looked at more closely. it's not safe in general. do exceptions exist? absolutely, but the whole two consenting adults point is a terrible one to make when at 18, you're considered that when you're still essentially just a child.

a strict age limit, which most groups adopt now, does little to actually prevent age gap relationships within roleplays. moreso, uneven power dynamics within plots being glamorized. my boss is not over 5 years older than me, but he is my boss. kpop boybands don't have age gaps of 10+ years in groups, usually, but there is a leader most times acting like a father figure, not to mention korean culture is heavy on emphasizing age-related hierarchical order, so a literal still wet behind the ears child establishing a romantic connection with someone who is not their equal? dangerous.

now let's halt. i already told you, i don't give a shit about respectability politics. it is not my job to be nice and educate anyone. and i don't mean just on this blog... most of you whites have come to assume and expect, even, that poc will be subservient, docile, and always willing to switch and nicely explain to you why the very core of the way you think about the world because you grew up sheltered w/e is not the whole picture for everyone. the worst part? most of them do. most of them do put their thinking caps on and write these novel worthy, intelligent, respectful, calculated think pieces only for the white in question to turn around and still deem it aggressive, etc. i don't do that. that is labor that most of you do not deserve.

the implication that there are feasible solutions for these problems that don't require for people to literally rework their entire mindset is naive at best. what am i supposed to do? be like nooo don't be racist, racism is bad BECAUSE it hurts people. i think all of you are old enough to know that by now. you definitely have enough internet exposure to know that, even if you grew up in all white sundown town america.

i explain my points. i actually explain my points more than the average person, yet here we are still saying im not doing enough to educate those around me as if it was my responsibility to change the way people think with sugar spice and everything nice so they feel their hand is held and it's safe to make a mistake that will consequently hurt other people as many times as they need to make it to finally grasp the reality of it and be able to just... not do that in the future. when no. no. when you hurt me, im allowed to react emotionally, not intellectually. when im angry and upset and still explaining why, its YOUR job to swallow it down and listen to what im saying, because YOU hurt me. i don't owe you civility (again; you, plural). i especially don't owe you civility when ive given you nothing but in the past and the end result is still me being an aggro freak who doesn't care for your precious feelings.

you're also assuming things. for example, assuming that im mocking you specifically when i really have not done that. if im going to mock you, im going to reply to your anon and say "okay stupid", then yeah, im mocking you. otherwise? don't assume im directing anything at you.

we're having a dialogue and this whole time all you've done is tell me to stop talking. your messages have all, in essence, said, if people want to date other people who have a shitton of years on them, that is not a problem and you look prettier talking about something else. yes, that's also paraphrased. you didn't say that, of course, but why are we still here if not because you feel personally scrutinized over the reaction to the life examples that you willingly provided?

nobody is trying to change YOUR mind, you're just not willing to consider that your age gap relationships that have been beautiful and loving and safe coexist within a culture that is wicked. a person who's 10+ older than me, 24, has no business seeing me as a potential partner. it's not appropriate. yet if they do, and i also see them as a potential partner, there's nothing inherently evil about that specific instance. it is the circumstances (past), that lead to this kind of thinking in the first place what im asking everyone to analize and understand. and it does matter. it matters as much as racism, abuse, ooc mistreatment of rp partners. again, issues do not queue and wait for something to end so they can begin anew. every conversation i choose to have i consider worth having. you're free to stay out if you don't deem it important.

you're exhausting me thinking by turning my inbox into ap debate we're achieving grand things sooo hope this helps 🖤

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

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anyone wanna hear the story of how i found out supernatural was ending and proceeded to have the worst morning of my life?

(super-excessive rambling ahead. do not read the whole of it.)

so i don't remember the date but it was the day of my english 10th board exam. boards are like a series of subject finals, kinda the biggest exams conducted in a student's education in india, plus they're nationalized. so yeah, a massively big deal, and obviously the first thing i do waking up on this massively important day is open tumblr. there are about seventy messages and i'm confused cause i think i barely "talked" to ten people back then, but before i've even checked them out, the first post i see is a textpost about how the longest running joke universally across fandoms is that 'spn has been going on way too long and needs to end' but now that it is ending, all people can do is cry about it. for some reason, i don't process that post as fact™, assuming they mean a general "ending" instead of a "j2m announced last season" ending. anyways i move on to my messages, and all of them are people who've freaking the fuck out for at least a few hours (the advantages of being in a timezone different from of most people) and i go to my activity, still stunned, and someone's tagged me in a meta of some kind, and i check it out completely dazed and it's got gifs (already!) of the three of them standing there with teary eyes and jensen actually saying the words everyone had been screaming about in the chats, and it finally hits me that it's ending, supernatural is ending, it's going to be OVER, and it's already been decided when. obviously, the tears start, and literally crying in my bed, still under the comforter, i think i watched the video twice, without headphones in fact, which is extremely weird because i virtually NEVER do that, but as if anything else mattered at the moment!

i don't remember what all i felt in those moments but one of the thoughts that REALLY stood out was that i wish, wish, wish it lasted just one more year — so maybe supernatural could end at the same time as highschool ended for me, and it'd feel like the end of a phase of my life, but no, according to what they predicted (and not even kidding, now it's even worse) supernatural was going to end smack in the middle of senior year for me, obviously a super important, super stressful year, and god, i wished so hard it'd just go on ONE MORE YEAR somehow but look what happened now it's ending like three months before my college entrance exams and the competitive engineering exams and shit which is just absolutely perfect because it's doing wonders to my attention span and mental health and yeah i'm getting off topic i'm gonna come back to the topic now

it's two am rn and i'm weirdly tired of typing so what happens next is fucking wild, but i'm gonna hurry because i need to go cry some more into a pillow or a ao3 tab or something. so like a whole HOUR later i get up from bed. i've got to get dressed and shit, most important exam of my life YET and everything. so i start brushing, obviously scrolling through tumblr, obviously failing to not cry, and my mum walks in, and she doesn't know a thing about supernatural (even if she did, she would consider the idea of me crying over them announcing an ending RIDICULOUS) so she just assumes i'm sniffling and tensed up because i'm STRESSED and she tries reassuring me like i need fucking reassurance for ENGLISH of all things. anyway anyway anyway i have maggi for breakfast i think and i'm still pretty out of it and stuff but i get dressed in my uniform and put on the fucking blazer though its HOT outside but i like wearing the school blazer for exams but i underestimated how much of a physically draining effect the news and reacting to it would have on me, so then there's me sweating literal buckets and then we set off.

we're already late in leaving the house (why, i don't remember) and once we're at the centre, and my parents have dropped me off and wished me luck, i go to the gate, right. and THEN the guard gestures to my uniform and tells me i'm missing my fucking class ID. now i know i'm late so i panic on cue because shit shit shit i'm gonna be even more late, and i legit turn and look for mum and dad (we weren't allowed to carry our mobiles for the test) and what i see is that they've reversed the car and are about to drive out the gate and obviously my brain isn't really working so i fucking RUN AFTER THE CAR, like, i'm really not an athletic person, i avoid running as much as i possibly can, and i fucking lose my shit and chase the car down in like ten seconds of running cause it's only like ten metres away actually but the highlight of it all is that i run. in a public space. unprompted. with a shitload of emotions and anxiety and panic, and i basically almost sob in relief when dad immediately stops the car and pretty much pulls me in and tells me to stop worrying cause the house is like ten minutes away and i might miss the general waiting part and stuff but i wasn't gonna miss the exam. so THEN we start driving back and obviously because they are who they fucking are, they start arguing about which of them is at fault for this and who was supposed to check in on me carrying my seriously important ID and other crap, and then obviously they're yelling and that does even more wonders for my state of practically hysteria, but i hold it together until we get home and i get the ID (which is on the bed, probably was under my blazer or something) and we set back off, and i know we're late, and i know supernatural is ending, and i know it's going to take a part of me really, and mum and dad just won't stop yelling at each other about god knows what, and i manage to squeeze in the first time in SO many years that i cry in front of my parents right there in the backseat, and they're sort of stunned because i really don't cry (in front of people) and then there's just me losing it in a mixture of helplessness and nerves and anger for some reason and just. whoa.

ANYWAYS we get to the centre (in time for the exam, but like fifteen minutes later than i SHOULD have gotten there) and dad talks to the teacher and stuff and it works out because obviously it's a really important exam they're not going to make me skip it, and i go straight to my classroom — also did i mention these exams aren't held in our own schools but like, different test centres, so basically a different room and desk each day in a different school from mine, ugh, i hate new places — and i find out i have the FIRST bench of the second column which lowkey sucks because it's too public really, but at least my best friend's sitting like diagonally from me on the left, and my friends are basically sprinkled around the classroom as well and i see them eyeing me worriedly cause they were scared i might miss the exam but also because i was a MESS with bloodshot eyes and an outofit look in them and did i mention i was sweating like a dog all this time wearing a blazer because i'm just that idiot because yeah.

so then i calm myself down the best i can. sitting under a fan helps, taking off my stupid blazer helps, and seeing dish (beforementioned best friend) helps — because apparently she heard about the ending too (she's not in the fandom she just keeps up with news for my sake, yes, im very lucky to have her) and tries to cheer me up about it, but then it's time for the paper, and they give them out and...yeah.

three hours later, the exam ends, and i step out of that hall the most mentally exhausted i've been in YEARS. also i swear off tumblr until i've had lunch and napped and stuff because i was also functioning on extremely little sleep but i really think that part was obvious.

as it goes, i ended up getting a 95% in that paper :)

but to this date, my sister jokes about how i ended up getting my personal least marks of that year in english of all subjects which was supposed to be of my strongest suit heh all because of a six-ish minute video released in a different part of the world about something that wasn't even going to happen that year...and like. yeah.

that's it.

that's the story.

#you're advised not to engage #this gets long and messy #even though it's something i'm not mad about rn #but dee thought this would be a good way to release the sheer weight of supernatural ending tomorrow off my heart so yeah #i ranted my ass off #tw rant #ish?#personal #to delete

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darksiderwritings · 4 years ago

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Hello how are you? If isn't too much trouble can you do 399 with death? Please and thank you

Ayyyyy. This fits him perfectly! Here you go! Enjoy 😈

——————————————————————————

NSFW. 18+ only

TW! Rough sex, bloodplay, biting

——————————————————————————

The Nephilim have and will always be a topic Death is tense about. The topic can easily enrage him and cause him to lash out. There is no competition that the part of the nephilim’s history that inflames Death the most and fastest is the abomination vault.

Death thought the matter was sorted after that horrendous event eons ago with that angel and maker. But alas, yet another abomination weapon was able to slip through and land directly in the slimy hands of a low level demon lord.

The weapon was called pandemic. It was a horn shaped from bones and flesh. When sounded, the horn spreads a fog that that infects the victims with a dreadful sickness. For a mast majority of those affected it’s a quick and brutal death. The ones who weren’t killed were the true weapons afterwards. The most abhorrent function was how the disease brought on by the horn could lay dormant in the survivors of the first onslaught. When the infected retreated they brought the disease back with them to their bases and homes. It spread quickly and caused the fall of many worlds.

It of course wasnt at its full strength after being kept dormant and denied the blood it needed to power itself. Even so, It still could weaken the armies it was used against. The demon lord who currently possessed it was using it in a crusade against angels that were stationed on an outlying world.

The council was quickly made aware and Death was dispatched. You joined as you were with him when a watcher was sent to summon him. You were also worried for his mental state after this mess and wanted to be there for him.

The battle did not take long. Only half a day. The weakling demon lord and his army were no match for Death’s rage and both of your combined skills. You have never seen him angrier. It was the first time you felt truely afraid of him. He barley spoke to you afterwards. A part of you was worried what would happen when you were both alone at home. How he would cope with this again and if he would lash out at you again.

You and Death gave a quick debrief to the council before heading back to your home. You would have to answer to your superiors in the morning. Death immediately slinked off to sit in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

You call out to Death softly as you stand next the stairs up to were your room was, “Death sweetie...I’m going to shower off and take a nap if you’d like to join me. I definitely need one after all that.” Death made no move to acknowledge what you said.

You continue “come on sweetie! You definitely could use some rest. Please?”

Death finally speaks in a anger and low tone. “Leave.me.alone.” His hands balled up tighter. So tight that his nails cut into his palm. if he could bleed he would be.

You look away and mutter “I understand. I’m sorry.”

You retreat to the bathroom upstairs. You let the warm water run over you and melt your stress away. God you wish you could just make these horrible feelings just vanish for Death. It hurt so much to see how this was affecting him. In the end, Aal you could do was be there for when he needed you.

You sigh and leave the warm and comfortable shower and wrap yourself in a towel. Opening the bathroom door connected to your room you were surprised to see death standing in the door frame of the bedroom.

You sneak a peak out of the corner of your eye at him before moving towards your dresser. You didn’t want to scare him away by speaking. You could feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of your head.

Okayyyyy, You thought. Death is just being Death again I suppose. You pull out a pair of pajama shorts and a old loose shirt to change into. You let the towel drop around you and that set Death off apprantly. Suddenly, Death had you bent over the dresser. One of his hands was on the small of your back. The other was wrapped in your hair pushing your head down.

You gasp and try to stand up to no avail. “You dick!” You grunt unable to speak with your face being smooshed into the dresser top. You wiggle try to loosen his grasp.

“Death come on this isn’t funny. You’re hurting me. Let me up please” You beg. Death let go of your hair and you let out a breathe of relief. Death instead spanked your ass hard causing you to squeak . Death grabbed one of your ass checks in his hand and squeezed tightly before growling out, “Shut up and let me do what I want.” You whimper and lower your head onto your forearms. You spike out, “Death please talk to me. I know you’re upset. You went through something awful today. Let me help baby.”

The hand on your ass moved to grab the back of your neck. Death leaned in and growled into your ear, “ you can help by shutting up and letting me fuck this pain away.” You whimper again and arch your back to press your ass into him.

If this is what he wants then fine. I can put up with it. It’s not like I hate when he gets rough anyway. Death gave a noise of approval and let go of your neck. “Good girl” death groaned.

That caused you to shiver a little. God it makes you weak whenever he calls you a good girl. Deaths hand moved from your back to your hip, dragging your ass closer to you. You grind your ass into him. You could feel he was already hard.

Death grunted and his other hand found its way in between your legs. He traced your pussy briefly before plunging two of his fingers inside of you. He roughly pumped them in and out you making you take a deep breathe in and spreading your legs further. He crooked his finger and pushed against the part that makes speaks explode inside of you. Death yanked his fingers out suddenly. You gasp and want to beg him to not stop but you decide to keep your mouth shut like he ordered. You hear his belt buckle jingle and you bite you lip in anticipation.

Death placed his hands back on your hips

And aligned his cock with your opening. He then thrusted himself inside quickly and deeply. Completely bottoming out in one stroke. You cry out in pain. You were no where near ready to take his dick. Death gave no pause and pounded into you mercilessly. You give out choked noises at each thrust. He was knocking the breathe out of you.

God it hurt but felt so good at the same time. Death leaned over you again. He grabbed your hair yanking over head up. This position was killing you. Your discomfort was quickly forgotten as Death bit into your neck. His teeth sank into you, drawing blood. You let out a high pitch noise. Death snarled and bit again, into your shoulder this time while rocking into you.

His thrusts grew more frenzied as he reached his climax. Death snarled and grunted before burrowing his head into your bleeding neck. He thrusted sharply into you one last time before you felt him cum inside of you. You moaned and grinded into him.

Death laid on top of you for a few moments savoring the feeling. You try to catch your breathe and wait for him to make the next move. You felt his cum drip down your thighs.

Death nuzzled into your neck again and whispered “im sorry.”

You sigh, “ nothing to be sorry about”.

You smile as death ran a hand down your back and onto your ass, groping you.

“Do you want to stop?” , he asked. He chuckles when you quickly shake your head. “Good”, he chuckles, “ I still have some aggression I need to take out.”

You laugh, “I’m all yours big boy.”

#darksiders #death #death/reader #not sfw

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notthatiwilleverwriteit · 5 years ago

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thanks for ur as always deepful analyses and answers ! another ask for u : im soo afraid in the next chapter momo will be homophobic towards ht !! I mean except Zzx who seems at ease with his sexuality, the other boys all seem kind of homophobic. Jy called ht repulsive bc he called him pretty while he was a guy, Ht is very agressive in his advances (which i linked to toxic virility which entails homophobia) ; then both of them changed for the better bc of their feelings for another man. 1/?

Good evening, dear anon-san!

“thanks for ur as always deepful analyses and answers !”

I’m glad you’ve enjoyed them! Every time people send me questions it always makes me happy and to be honest, a bit taken aback because I’m just a little old me. But I’m glad my answers have had such a positive reception and given people food for thought. And it’s always a pleasant surprise when people feel like they can come to my ask box with their interpretations and strike up a conversation.

Homophobia is a very complex topic, and I wondered where I should start to unravel this ask. But soon I realized before I can even begin that I have to take a moment to sort out my own feelings. Whenever people say the boys in 19 Days are abusive or homophobic for whatever reason I tend to get ticked off. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, often sparked by my own bias, but something that can very easily cloud my answer and make it unfair for you. Exchanging interpretations and perspectives requires a level of objectivity and the ability to rise above your own bias. I can’t dismiss something just because it uncomfortably pokes my nerve. Instead, I should take a step back, try and see things from another point of view, and find some common ground.

I’m not saying I had to struggle to agree with you on anything but your ask certainly reminded me of how challenging yet rewarding it is to actually listen to an interpretation that differs from my own and try to objectively look at the story from that point of view. It hurts your brain at first but is surprisingly freeing in the end.

Because you addressed so many things in your ask, I will tie my answer together under the theme of homophobia and give it some structure that way. This will be my great 19 Days - homophobia edition. \(^v^)/

Sexual orientation and environment

Let’s start with the biggest context you brought up in your ask: social and cultural environment. I’m not familiar enough with Chinese culture to have anything definite to say about its attitude towards LGBT people. Of course, I’ve heard of the discrimination and even blatant hate by their government but I don’t have any idea about how ordinary, modern-day Chinese people view others with different sexual orientations. Not to mention, it’s always risky to take fictional works as an accurate representation of the milieu in which they’re set.

But I do think that 19 Days discusses homophobia in societies, though on a more general level. As Jian Yi has come to realize his feelings towards Zhan Zheng Xi, we’ve also gotten glimpses of his struggles. They’re surrounded by other kids in school, and from the very early chapters it’s been implied two guys being that close together or comfortable with that level of skinship turns people’s heads (ch. 53, 54, 55, and 57):

Of course, those panels also poke fun at the stereotype of girls being interested in cute guys being cute together. The girls stare, take pictures, and even smile knowingly. This bothered ZZX because it put him in awkward situations and created misunderstandings that would be embarrassing to correct. And the more he would try to deny and correct them, the more he would probably end up looking suspicious. But the bottom line is, he was increasingly conscious of the weird looks and attention JY’s antics were attracting and didn’t want people to get the wrong picture of his friendship with JY. All of that could give us some hints on how two boys being close might be viewed by their peers, but it should also be kept in mind that those kinds of “gay panic” moments are a big part of the humor you find in 19 Days.

Having a crush on someone of the same gender gets more serious tones after JY kissed ZZX (ch. 142)

The secret was finally out in the open. JY had carried his feelings in his heart for a long time. He had wanted to confess them so many times and often hidden them behind jokes and antics. Perhaps every time he had jumped to hug ZZX he had caught a whiff of his scent and enjoyed the feeling of him in his arms. But to take the definite last step of confessing and lifting that curtain had always terrified him. And who wouldn’t have been scared? Not only would you have to come out but also risk losing your childhood best friend. It could be JY had even thought of never telling ZZX about his feelings because it could go horribly wrong.

For a while, things are somewhat put on pause after the first reveal which I found very realistic. JY wasn’t flat-out rejected but ZZX most definitely needed a moment to sort out his own feelings. He pestered JY to be straight with him (pun not intended...) and made it clear it would be safe for JY to rely on him and free himself of the burden. Despite that JY was still very unsure if his confession won’t result in ZZX abandoning him because “gay” is abnormal and disgusting (ch. 164):

Even when JY finally confessed he was expecting to be rejected in disgust (ch. 209):

But he had sort of reached the point of just finally getting it all out even if ZZX wouldn’t return his feelings. Even if it meant they wouldn’t be friends anymore. At least he had said it. He had heartbreakingly little faith that their kind of relationship wouldn’t be completely doomed. Thank god he had fallen for someone like ZZX. I don’t think I’ve never been as grateful for a character like him before.

A tangible example of how Zhanyi and their environment collided was Xiao Hui’s character (ch. 158):

When she called JY a disgusting gay, it was the first time he was facing that kind of homophobia. Though her actions were frustrating, I think Xiao Hui’s character was a good addition to Zhanyi. At first, she lashed out both because she was hurt and publicly humiliated but also no doubt because she had internalized the idea that heterosexuality was the norm and anything else was abnormal and wrong. Later on, she had had time to lick her wounds and calm down (ch. 258):

She still has a crush on ZZX but even though she probably realizes she doesn’t have a chance she still wants a clear rejection from ZZX. It still hurts and stings but doesn’t upset her as much. It could even be she’s a little happy for them. I think Xiao Hui’s character is a good example that people are capable of changing and reflecting when they’re given a chance. And no one should be forever held accountable and punished for the mistakes they made and have since bettered themselves.

In a broader sense, I think Zhanyi also discusses what kind of future a same-sex couple could have in society (ch. 268):

That drawing on the wall is my favorite Zhanyi moment. As cute as ZZX drawing him and JY together was, it also carries some bittersweet undertones. The original drawing represents the norm: a boy and a girl in love but if there are no skirts involved, it’s a whole other story. To be open about their relationship would most probably never be an option for JY and ZZX. Something as simple as holding hands in public would take courage and threaten to complicate other aspects of their lives (school, work, family). They don’t have the same privilege as straight people to openly and safely share their feelings and have that universal experience.

Your ask was mainly about Mo Guan Shan and He Tian, but I wanted to take a moment to talk about their environment since you also referred to it. And the easiest way for that seemed to be to talk about the progress of Zhanyi. As you suggested, it does seem the society in which all of the characters live is very much heteronormative which puts pressure on the characters to fit in. And if they fail that, they will face homophobia and most probably feel the need to hide their true selves. Case in point, Zhanyi.

Boys being boys

As much as I know that phrase is deemed Problematic™ these days, I think it fits the dynamics of the boys of 19 Days. They mess with each other, and all of that is typical humor for the comic. Personally, I’ve never taken any of their teasing and good-natured bullying seriously because it’s how 15-year-old boys are around each other.

However, I just finished talking about the environment under which influences and discourses the boys have grown up. I don’t feel like I can ignore what I had just been saying and brush it off as “oh well, they’re just boys” if they’ve always been surrounded by certain attitudes. Does that mean the boys have also internalized those attitudes towards gay people despite having feelings for someone of the same sex? Does that make them a representation of toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia?

In all honesty, I’m struggling to answer those questions. On one hand, I do agree that society’s norms of what is masculine put a lot of pressure on boys when growing up. You have to act, talk, dress, and be in a certain way to be accepted, and it doesn’t take a lot for kids to internalize those ideas. And as you said, acting or looking gay (not to mention, actually being one) is probably the worst a young boy could be. Being gay is often linked to everything a proper man shouldn’t be: sissy, effeminate, sensitive, weak, submissive, on the bottom. The list goes on and on.

On the other hand, do I think you can see that in the four main boys of 19 Days? I suppose it’s possible if that’s the direction you want to take. If you look at anything through those lenses, you can probably find toxic masculinity everywhere. Do I think HT, MGS, JY and ZZX are homophobic because they possibly showcase traits of toxic masculinity? I guess. I don’t know. I see where that interpretation comes from, but some part of my brain never manages to make the full connection between those two. I’m constantly having a feeling that my way of thinking differs from your interpretation but I can’t properly validate or argue my opinions.

Perhaps taking a look at the examples you mentioned might help. You talked about JY being homophobic when this was his response to HT calling him good looking (ch. 108):

I can’t exactly deny that panel couldn’t be taken as toxic masculinity. I might even agree with you on that. I wouldn’t probably go as far as saying JY was being homophobic but it does seem like his masculinity was threatened or questioned in that situation. Interestingly, I’ve seen that phrase pop up a lot in yaoi/shounen-ai comics. Characters who are in a gay relationship don’t often feel comfortable with guys complimenting them - or even the guy they’re in love with. I’ve always wondered that. Does that mean there’s a level of self-denial in those characters or is it just a cultural thing? Does it embarrass them?

In general, I think all of that has to do with their age, and another good example of that would be ZZX and JY’s reaction to HT messing with MGS (ch. 289 and 298):

I’ve seen people calling those moments homophobic as well and can’t really agree with them. I would say those reactions have more to do with teenage boys being awkward and embarrassed. HT putting the moves on MGS in front of them is embarrassing and something they don’t wish to see. I mean, I wouldn’t want to see my friends constantly acting like that around me either. Seeing public displays of affection embarrasses me and makes me awkward as hell. (Though, I don’t know if that’s just a Finnish thing...)

In short, I see a lot of how the boys act around each other just natural to how teenage boys are. They mess with each other and standing up for yourself in that sense (for example, getting revenge, being physical, or returning the verbal teasing) is important and typical. That’s how I see JY’s words in the example you mentioned: he felt like HT was messing with him and shot back. All of that could, of course, be seen as internalized toxic masculinity, but I don’t think it’s quite as blatant as people sometimes make it out to be. I’ve always taken it as boys just being boys and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

What comes to HT being pushy and overbearing, I don’t see that being connected to toxic masculinity and making him homophobic because of that. It feels a bit of a stretch and shakey. Instead, I actually think HT is quite comfortable with both of his own feelings for MGS and the idea of same-sex relationships in general (ch. 187):

The little heart-to-hearts JY and HT occasionally have also show us that despite often making fun of each other, they can take it more seriously when needed. JY would have never asked about having feelings for another male if he couldn’t trust HT wouldn’t make fun of him.

The case of Mo Guan Shan

You talked a lot about MGS, so I thought I’d take a closer look at his character separately. You made some interesting points I’ve also been thinking about and was glad they popped up in your ask.

Since we’ve talked about toxic masculinity so far, let’s continue on that. You mentioned that MGS is prone to homophobia because he’s had to act tough. Upholding a certain kind of image is essential in gangs. Being weak and submissive - aka gay, as I talked about above - isn’t an option in that line of work.

I agree with you on all of that. Why MGS is so uncomfortable with HT being physical with him is at least partly because he can’t come across as someone who can be taken advantage of (ch. 250):

If he can be physically overpowered and made vulnerable, it means he can be submitted. In the masculine world, physical strength seems to be the final and ultimate law that settles all the disputes at the latest. And if you lose in that you’re on the bottom or at least lower on the hierarchy. Now, multiply that mentality by a lot to fit it in the world of teenage gangs and the borderline criminal underworld. So, yes, I would most definitely say MGS doesn’t want himself to be put in that situation. Much less anyone finding out about it.

Then again, the story has kind of revisited that idea when HT “joined” MGS’s gang and his underlings started seeing HT around more. And they seem somewhere between intimidated by HT and impressed their boss has managed to make someone like HT call him “brother”. That fits the same mentality of strength, but I can’t honestly see Buzzcut or other members of the gang giving MGS a hard time even if they found out about HT’s affections. Chances are, they would be even more impressed, bless them.

Overall, I think MGS lashing out (or being homophobic) is mostly due to him not trusting HT and HT slowly but surely wearing him out and making him see his own prejudice against people like HT. Yelling out insults has been the easiest way to fight HT’s affections, although it’s not proven very successful. It’s also important to remember MGS is fairly inexperienced when it comes to love and romantic affection (ch. 222):

He’s always been rejected and discriminated by his peers and over the years, he’s started to mirror that behavior and push people away. Having crushes (let alone having a girlfriend) has never really been a concern for him. And it’s not like he’s had time for something like romance anyway because working has taken so much of his time. In this regard, MGS isn’t that mature or experienced and tends to get uncomfortable and lash out very quickly.

I’ve already talked about the note and what kind of role I think it will have (if it will be addressed at all). And I’m not really worried about MGS saying something homophobic to HT. I think we’re way past of him being like “I don’t speak to a homo” at this point already. He’s been aware of HT’s affections for a good while by now and even tentatively warmed up to some of it (for example, the aquarium date and the studs). (Even though, I think it’s still too early to talk about MGS being in love with HT.)

MGS has come a long way, and I might even say he’s gained some sexuality-related maturity on the way. Slowly but surely, he’s become comfortable with having HT around, and if after all this development he would say something like that, it would be a pretty big step backward. Of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t throw insults and lash out but let’s not forget we’re talking about a purebred tsundere here. That’s always going to happen with him.

And while we’re keeping it real, it’s not like HT would pay any mind to those insults. After MGS asked for the studs, I think HT’s resolve has only strengthened.

I hope this answer makes some sense, to me it feels like a bit of a mess of this and that. A lof of “I can’t deny that but still...” You really threw some hard questions and challenged my thinking a lot. Thank you!

#19 days #tianshan #zhanyi #Jian Yi #He Tian #mo guan shan #Zhan zheng xi #answered ask

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