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javier-pena · 3 years ago

Text

take

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Rating: Explicit (that means 18+/no minors!!)

Summary: Javi and you are enjoying breakfast on his yacht until things take an unexpected turn.

Notes: I saw a picture of Javi and all I could think was, “I wanna feed him berries”. So that’s the reason I wrote this fic. That’s the only excuse I have. Oh and also that I want Javi to call me a bad girl but whatever, we don’t need to talk about that. Anyway, as always, I owe most of this to Dani @javierpcna, literally everything I write should come with Dani’s name listed as co-author, her support knows no bounds, she literally drops everything when I send her a fic to proofread, and this was no different. And she also lets me use her brilliant lines from time to time, for which I can never repay her.

Notes II: I have neither seen the movie nor have I read the script, so if there are any spoilers in there (I doubt it) I didn’t put them in intentionally.

Notes III: Artwork by @honestly-shite | Moodboard by @frankiemorales

***

One.

He lets you feed him one berry, but only after you tell him how good they taste, how they melt on your tongue, how they fill your mouth with a soft sweetness. He raises an eyebrow at that, and you know what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he takes the small blueberry from your outstretched fingers, leaning on the laden breakfast table to make it easier for you to reach him. The berry is so small it’s impossible for him to pull it in between his lips without the tip of your finger vanishing, too. You shudder at the sensation, shudder despite the heat, despite the hotness of his tongue brushing against your sensitive skin.

Javi hates breakfast. He hates dedicating time during his busy day, during the mornings when he feels most productive, to eating when it can be done en passant. You keep telling him it’s not healthy to eat while he’s distracted, and you’ve been trying to convince him to have breakfast with you for a few weeks now.

Why, babe? You said distraction is bad for me when I eat.

He still doesn’t eat during the mornings, only drinks his heavy, smoky, black coffee, but he keeps you company now whenever he can. He reads to you from the morning paper, he tells you about his plans for the day, or he listens to you talking about a dream you had last night or about things you would like to do with him one day. And today … today he even made time to take you out on his yacht, to anchor it in a secluded bay where there’s no noise except the lapping of the waves against the bright white hull of the ship and the cries of the seagulls circling above, hoping to snatch a crumb of the croissant on your plate. Today, he’s made time to be with you.

Two.

You try it again, another berry, another taste of sweetness, another burst of flavor and color and sugary juices. This time it becomes clear he’s chasing something else, craving something else, as he sucks on your finger, just for a brief moment, just under the pretense of getting the sticky juice off your skin, but he also isn’t shy about it, he also doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. Your skin prickles when he releases the digit, and you pull your hand back across the table too quickly, too hastily. He notices and leans back on his expensive outdoor couch with a satisfied sigh.

You dry your finger against the hot skin of your leg, already burning up with the heat of the approaching day, even though you keep to the shadows. Only your feet rest on an empty chair in direct sunlight, while you keep the rest of your body safe under a wide canopy. Javi is doing the complete opposite. He’s lounging in direct sunlight, and you’ll never understand how he can stand it. Your skin always starts to tickle and itch from the heat, while he looks like he was made to live in a Mediterranean country and spend his days in the sun.

The bright, orange shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned to expose half his chest. His bronze skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, and you cannot tear your eyes away from it, imagining what it would feel like to run your fingers over it, how hot it would feel under your hands, how he would sigh and relax into your touch. His chest is your favorite place in the entire world. You feel safe when you rest your hand on it, when he softly runs his fingers along your arm, tells you how beautiful you look, how he will always take care of you, no matter what, how you’ll never need to worry about anything ever again because you’re his and he’s yours. And you feel oh so secure when you’re trapped under it, when you feel its weight pressing down on you, when your sharp nails leave angry, red scratches on his soft skin as he whispers into your ear – encouraging, soothing, filthy.

Three.

You want to see it move, see the muscles flex and strain as he leans forward again to accept a third berry from you. And this time he’s not shy about it anymore. This time, he does suck your finger in between his lips, the berry forgotten, and you see his eyes widen behind his dark sunglasses. You suck in a sharp breath at the sight. He releases your finger with a wet pop and suddenly this isn’t enough. Suddenly you need more, more of him, but you lower your gaze to your plate instead to hide your shining eyes. There is a time and place for these things and the deck of his yacht in broad daylight isn’t it.

But you cannot deny what your body wants, even though your mind tells the aching between your legs to shut up. You push yourself out of your chair fast and within a few steps you’re leaning against the railing, hoping to catch a breeze to soothe your flushed face. But there is none, only unbearable heat.

When you turn around again, you feel a different kind of heat; Javi’s gaze is on you as he takes you in. You know he loves to do this, especially when you’re wearing something he bought you, like you’re doing this morning – an expensive black bikini that leaves little to the imagination, one you found on your bed one morning with a small note that made you shudder, so you decided to save it for a special occasion. And you were right to do so because he’s unable to tear his eyes away from you.

You walk back to the table as slowly as possible, determined to finish breakfast, but something pulls you toward him, like an invisible rope slung around your waist, like his gaze is enough to make you lose all sense of control. And before you know it, you’re straddling his thigh, while he pulls you into a kiss, one that lasts forever yet not long enough, one that sets you on fire more than the sun on your back yet makes you want to expose more skin so more of you will get burned.

The second his teeth release your lip his hands fly up to rest against your hips, his grip firm but easy to get out of if you wanted to. “Is there something you wanted, baby?” he asks you, innocence written all over his face, as if he truly is completely unaware of the effect he has on you, of the things he makes you want to do when his eyes follow you around like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

You bite your lip, bite the spot that still feels raw from where he sucked on it moments earlier, and then you start rolling your hips, start chasing the friction to relieve some of the hot, searing pressure that’s been building between your legs since he sucked your finger into his mouth. You see his eyes lower dangerously when he realizes what it is you want from him, and everything shifts, shifts as if the yacht is hit by a strong wave. You’re all too familiar with this change and you know exactly what it means, and what it entails.

One of your hands lands on the collar of his shirt out of its own free will, your fingers clawing at the material in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. The palm of your other hand presses against his warm, sun-kissed chest, your nails eager to leave marks on his skin. But instead of pressing into your touch, he leans back and watches you with mild interest.

This is all the permission you need. You grind your hips with a sense of purpose now, and when you feel the muscles of his leg tense between yours, a small whimper escapes your lips.

He smirks at you, and you know his eyes are sparkling, even though you can’t really see them. “Come on,” he urges you, pressing up into you, “make yourself feel good.”

With a desperate moan, your head falls onto his shoulder, your forehead scraping against his shirt, and you bite your lip because it’s the only thing stopping you from biting the exposed skin of his neck. You know he’d like that, he likes it when you are rough with him, but it also unleashes something in him you want to keep locked away today. You know it’s selfish and greedy, but all you want to do this morning is take, and not think about him.

He makes that resolve very difficult to keep.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks you, a hand at the back of your neck, trying to get you to lift your head.

You don’t answer him, you can’t, but you indulge him and lift your head again. You pick up the pace, determined to show him how much you like it, how good it makes you feel, but he only smirks at you again, like he doesn’t need an answer anyway, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

And suddenly, suddenly that selfish streak is gone, and you want him closer to you, all over you, inside of you. You don’t care that you have to give up the last bit of control you cling to, and give yourself over completely to him, you don’t care that it’s broad daylight and that another boat could sail into your tiny bay any second now, you don’t care about being discovered or about this being, strictly speaking, illegal. You just care about him fucking you like he does when he has you to himself, sprawled out under him, trapping you with his broad chest and toned arms, forcing you to take whatever he gives you.

But before you can tell him any of that, the hand at the back of your neck is gone and he lifts up his sunglasses and tosses them aside, so you can look right into his eyes, so you can see that you’re not the only one who’s affected by all of this. His gaze roams all over you, from your eyes shining with hazy lust to your legs squeezing around his thigh and your hips rolling with an urgency, pushing you steadily closer to finding the release you’re chasing. But this isn’t enough, you both know that; it’s enough to keep the fire going, but not enough to push you over the edge.

His free hand brushes against the exposed skin of your belly, his fingers run along the seam of your bikini top, and you push yourself forward, willing him to cup your breasts, pinch your nipples, anything, anything to relieve the ache and burning, the feverish craving you feel for his touch, his lips, his words that leave no doubt about who is in control. But he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, his hand moves to your back to steady you, to hold you in place, and all he does is toy with the strap of your top holding everything in place at the back of your neck.

You don’t know what makes you look down to where your bodies are connected, but you do, and he follows your gaze. You both watch as a dark patch forms on the light fabric of his slacks, as it spreads more and more with each thrust of your hips.

“You’re making a mess,” Javi breathes quietly, so quietly you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the water against the yacht’s hull. His gaze is transfixed, his attention is on the evidence of your arousal as he watches with great interest. You feel heat spread from your chest along your arms and up your neck to your face, but you don’t stop.

“Look at you, princess,” he goes on, his left hand gripping your side tighter to slow you down until you drag yourself along his leg painfully slowly. “Look at how you’re getting daddy’s trousers all wet, they’re probably ruined now.” He pauses at your sharp intake of breath. There’s a dark glint in his eyes when he speaks next. “You’re a bad girl.”

You’re pretty sure the sound you make isn’t human. He lets go of your side and rests his hand on your thigh, letting you set the pace again.

“Please,” you whine, and you don’t quite know why you say it, what you want him to do, you just know he needs to do something, or you’ll go crazy. “Please, Javi,” you repeat. “Please, just … touch me,” you finish, and it’s stupid, he is touching you, just not in the way you mean, but you cannot come up with anything else to say.

“You’re always so greedy,” he observes, not making any move to fulfil your request. “I’m already giving you what you want and still you want more. Don’t you want to be daddy’s good girl?”

You don’t know the answer to that question. You wouldn’t know your own name if he asked you right now. Not because of the things he’s saying but because he raises his leg ever so slightly to push up against your clit and every coherent thought you might have had is drowned out by incoherent sounds leaving your mouth. You press down against him, grinding down with so much force he’s bound to lower his leg. Only … he doesn’t.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that,” he says, a picture of calmness and poise. “Can you repeat that for me?”

You absolutely cannot because you can’t remember what you said in the first place, but you give it another try. “Javi, please, give me something,” you swallow, “anything. Touch me, please.”

“No,” he says, but his voice sounds strained now, like uttering that two-letter word takes a lot of effort. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please,” you say again, knowing it won’t be enough. “Please, I can’t …”

“Why not?” he wants to know.

“It’s not enough, I ...,” you swallow again, your throat completely dry, “why are you doing this to me?”

“Oh, baby, you’re not even trying to get yourself off,” Javi chuckles. “I know you can do better than that.”

“I am trying,” you tell him, but it’s nothing more than a desperate whine.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks you.

And he’s right, it is, it was ten minutes ago when you thought all you had to do was look pretty and he’d fuck you, but now that he’s seen right through you, now that he has decided he doesn’t want to give you anything more than he has to, it isn’t anymore. You want so much more than this, and you know there’s just one way to get it.

With a small movement you change your position slightly until you roll your hips against where he’s straining against the fabric of his slacks, and a low hiss is your reward, followed by a sharp slap to your ass that makes your hips stutter, and you lose your steady rhythm. Both his hands are on your hips again and he pushes you down hard against the firm muscles of his thigh.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he tells you. “I’m gonna give you what you came here for, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Javi,” you groan.

His hands move your hips, his arms straining with the effort of keeping you in place, and you let him, even though all you can think about is his hard cock only inches away from you. You think about him pushing into you, about the filthy, wet sounds it would make, about how he’s the only one who can reach so deep inside of you he makes you see stars with every thrust.

“All right,” Javi says. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You can have it.”

You’re sure you misheard. You’re sure he didn’t just say that. After all he’s put you through, he won’t give in that easily. But you clench around nothing nevertheless, clench around thin air at the thought of him inside of you.

“Later,” he adds, and your heart almost stops. “I’m gonna fill your pretty mouth, but only if you’re good for me.”

You want to, you’re trying to, but you cannot do this anymore. If he’s not going to touch you, if he won’t fuck you, you have to do it yourself.

One of your hands leaves his strong shoulders and you frantically push the fabric of your swimsuit aside, pressing a finger against your aching clit. You moan in relief, but it only lasts a moment, because his left hand closes tightly around your wrist without any warning, and he twists your arm until he has it in a firm grip pressed against your back. The ring he wears on his little finger digs painfully into your soft skin.

“You were doing so well,” he says with a disappointed sigh.

“It’s not –,” you start, but you’re not allowed to finish the sentence.

“No, it is enough,” he tells you firmly, his eyes boring into yours.

But he does reach up, he does pull the string of your top until it comes loose and your tits spill out. He lets go of your arm but before you can decide what to do with your newfound freedom, his fingers close around your throat at the same time as his mouth closes around one of your nipples.

That’s all it takes.

You arch your back with a scream and come right there on his thigh in broad daylight, while he holds you in place with hands and mouth. It goes on forever, or at least it feels like that, and he’s unrelenting, first sucking one nipple into his mouth, then biting down hard on the other. When it becomes clear he’s not planning on stopping, you grab a fistful of his soft curls and pull him away from your chest with a sharp tug.

“Had enough?” he asks, his lips shiny and slightly swollen.

You nod slowly because you don’t trust your voice right now.

“Well, I haven’t,” he growls. “And I will tell you when you’ve had enough.”

taglist: @badbatches, @darksber, @doin-stuff, @filthybookworm, @for-my-satisfaction, @frannyzooey, @javigutierrez, @karkii, @pann-malii, @raspberrymama, @silksaddle, @skeletonstwins, @skyshipper, @sunnydunnydays

#the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez #pedro pascal #fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #i hope it makes sense #i'm high up in the mountains so if it doesn't it's the lack of oxygen

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rrasado · 3 years ago

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Yo! If that's okay could i request the brothers (or some of the of your choice) reacting to a teen mc who already has a pact with a demon long before coming to the Devildom and this demon is pretty much their (very protective) guardian/caretaker? Like, the demon is really sweet and gentle with MC and babies them constantly but they're wary of the brothers (Nothing romantic, just platonic hcs!) Feel free to ignore if i'm bothering you!

Congrats on the 400 followers!!💞

Who’s The Guardian?

On another episode of “why didn’t I see this in my inbox before-“ but this is such a cute request.

I...haven’t played OMSWD in half a year ;-;. I never got past lesson 40 so, sorry in advanced for the OOC-

When you already have a pact

Lucifer

...is caught off guard, big time.

He probably skimmed through your files and records but not once did the thought of a seemingly innocent teenager already having a pact with a demon prior the exchange program crossed his mind.

That’s coming from someone who overthinks a lot.

As the so called right hand man of the young lord himself, he’ll want to conduct a thorough investigation on whoever this demon is. He can’t risk sullying the honor of Diavolo because of some minor slip up.

Under the guise of a friendly get together he asks MC to invite their demon pact mate over for a nice afternoon tea. Harmless correct? Well that -less becomes -ful when the demon immediate smothers their favorite human with such rare affections he didn’t knew demons were capable of.

He’ll attempt to be discreet about his intentions but, it seems the demon is more vocal about their displeasure of finding out that their dear human is living with seven of the most powerful demons in hell. So lucifer would blatantly put on a facade to keep the dignity of the council and the prince at peace. But if it were up to him...

“We all care for the human’s well being yes? A little cooperation is to be called for”

Mammon

...Feels betrayed. And disappointed

He...wasn’t MC’s first- oh god the others are laughing at him as we speak aren’t they.

Would probably try to not so discreetly compare himself to the demon, arms crossed™️

Is that why MC was so fast in making a pact with him? Like no fear whatsoever because they’ve already done this before? Now he feels dumber than before

It all ultimately ends with..the demon and mammon trying to out do each other when it comes to spoiling Mc whether material wise or affection, of course mammon is at a disadvantage given how much he denies his concern for not being Mc’s first.

But in the end, if anything bad no matter how small happens to the two demon’s beloved human, they’d probably set aside their differences and hunt down the source. It’s a whole other story if the source was mammon-

“Oi the human also has a pact with me Ya got that!”

Leviathan

...is both amazed and disdained.

On one hand- HOLY SHI- YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN MOST SUMMONERS AND YOU ALREADY HAVE A PACT? THAT’S SO SHOUNEN-

And on the other hand- wow...you’re such a normie for being able to pull in other races, what in the name of damned friendship is this-

But that disdain turns to envy, whether envying you or the demon sometimes it’s interchangeable- because he wished he was also that cared for. Being able to be brought gifts or being protective over- it’s the otome dream he’s secretly wanted.

But once he realizes that the demon just genuinely cares for MC, for whatever reason- he seems to understand along the way, maybe he to wishes to protect one of the few people that willingly put up with him with a wild smile. Teen mutuality huh.

He might even invite their demon pact mate over for a game or two- heck if things go well they three might even become a triumvirate. Overall he’ll learn to get along with them but...it’ll take a good while djdndnbd.

“H-hey...ya sure you wanna hang out with someone as yucky as me? Ah- wait I have games for three here somewhere.”

Satan

...Is highly intrigued suffice it to say.

The guy was highly enthralled when you managed to even make a pact with him through hard work and it seems there was a much farther history as to why.

Unlike the first born however, he’d be actually successful in hiding his true intentions when he decided to investigate whoever demon managed to wind up with the young human in the first place.

Those detective novels did him good Huh-

On a more serious note. He’d actually be encouraging to a certain extent until the demon directs their threats to him. Like how dare this lowly bastard make a point to the Avatar sin of Wrath- oh it was for MC’s sake...hard pass-

At one point he’s probably the closest to this demon in terms of peace next to Beelzebub since he’s the most serene of the brothers. Overall neutral to them unless the demon gives him a reason to.

“It’s nice to see the human having someone to lean on to...I wonder what would happen if that support were to suddenly collapse”

Asmodeus

...is sappy to the brim

Look at the lovely human already catching demons with finesse! Proud wine aunt moment™️. And the fact that it was prior to the program? Damn the kid has more potential than he thought.

At first the demon themself is gonna- Ehe carry MC away everytime asmo ties coming in but. With a little nudge and convincing they’d probably stay to listen to Asmo.

Trust me when I say these three will go shopping every weekend once everyone is comfortable with each other. And for what it’s worth they might even get matching outfits.

Asmo would probably try and nitpick how MC even managed to wind up in a pact with a demon without knowledge of the Devildom in the first place but at the same time he thinks it adds to the younger’s charm

These three end up being the child the mom and wine aunt dynamic and y’all can’t convince me otherwise.

“Ehh~? Oh don’t look so weary it’s bad for your face darling~”

Beelzebub

...For some reason happy.

Is this why MC managed to make a pact with his brothers so easily in so little time? Is this why the teen never seems to be bothered by any of his brothers’ threats? Overall he’s happy that you have experience.

He remembers something oddly like this...but in his case he didn’t had experience prior the fall wow way to go at angsting this am I right-

Because unlike him, a being millennia old was so confused of what’s in store for hell after the fall but he had no choice but to grit his teeth and bare the fear.

And someone so young managed to get a taste of a fraction of that experience but here was MC...laughing without a care whilst this other demon places a protective arm in front of them as they interrogate beel- oh wait they were talking to him-

Food as peace offering? You bet, thankfully they did settle with food and unlike first impressions- the demon actually is the most sensible to beel seeing as he was one of the few who...didn’t actively attempt to kill their human- in fact, the demon is probably the one to inform Beel of what demon food the young teen can actually eat and what they prefer.

“I see...ah, would you maybe wanna join us? Food always tastes better when shared”

Belphegor

...could care less until they talk about the whole time universe killing thing-

Ohhh boy- belphie run I’m telling you run- no beel won’t defend you on this one in fact I think I see mammon running with the demon but belphie run boy run-

In all seriousness him and the demon will take the longest to get into terms. Heck not even Mc’s convincing has effect, because the demon really really doesn’t like the avatar of sloth for good reason.

Depending on how the demon even winded up with MC. Belphie would also not like the demon.

That...is until something actually bad happens to MC-

The demon might blindly pin it on belphie but the thing is- he’s also panicking because if he and his brothers were there and the demon was there- wHO TF IS WITH THE TEENAGER-

He...didnt want to have what he did to MC happen again. Let him be the last one to harm the spunky human. I even considered him and the demon to never actually get along no matter how long of a time but...again it all depends on the Hows and Whys.

“I...Care for them as much as you do. Just- Tsk... I don’t need you to believe me.”

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ruby-whistler · 3 years ago

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There are three types of misinterpretation of c!Dream in my opinion; and by that I mean anyone's take ever, whether it's a c!Dream anti or a c!Dream apologist or a c!Dream enthusiast. That's right, I'm making an essay about how in my mind everyone is wrong. This is how I lead debates please don't unfollow me-

1. misunderstanding or overdramatizing evidence

c!Dream apologists; g-guys. I'm not saying he isn't traumatized, but look. I really used to believe he was just everyone's victim and hurt and mentally unstable, and I'm not saying he isn't at all, but I changed my mind because I feel like the evidence doesn't,, point that way at all. Your emotions are valid, but your takes are very removed from what the rest of the fandom thinks because you take little hints and try to make them into some big angsty point within canon.

The evidence we have proves he is more ruthless than anything; even the content creator says that. He doesn't say why he does progressively more ruthless things, and he does say it's for his ideals and out of good intentions, but he doesn't say anything about him being hurt into doing it.

I'm not saying he isn't hurt. But making analysis of an entire character based on something that is barely supported by canon isn't the way I roll and I feel like it's one of the reason why people assume all c!Dream apologist are going to woobify the character,, because some of them really do that.

I don't mind portraying him as hurt by what's happened in canon, because that is a completely safe conclusion, but jumping to the victim side of the scale seems a little bit like painting a completely different picture than what actual canon says. (Note: talking about pre-Pandora c!Dream here.)

There is tragedy in someone being driven by the environment, circumstances and themselves deeper and deeper into corruption, but it feels like by only considering that the entire character is limited to one side of the argument.

I like to also see the side of him that will hurt people because he thinks he has to, because he wants to succeed above all, the side that will ruthlessly murder and manipulate and be calculative and clever and even self-destructive about it because he believes that'll get him towards his ultimately selfless goal.

That's my morally complex bastard.

A lot of people seem to be mistaking or ignoring that for the sake of saying he is just... hurt and that that is an explanation of his actions, and even though they don't use it as an excuse, it feels a little cheap.

And here we come to the core of the problem: an emotional vs. rational explanation for the character's actions.

Because the thing is, with enough evidence, you will see that nearly (we'll get to that in a bit) everything he does can be explained rationally. Everything is connected, everything is the most logical and efficient and merciless route straight from point A to point B, because c!Dream is fascinatingly smart when you look deeper into it.

He knows what he's doing. He knows his actions are awful, and he doesn't care - not because he would be some evil person, but because his mindsets cause him to justify such things, and mindsets are more complicated than feelings.

There is a lot to explore in that direction of the character, but that is material for another essay.

In short, people seem to enjoy removing all of his agency in favor of explaining his actions emotionally rather than from a rational standpoint which results in inaccurate analysis.

Do I think it is completely understandable he attacked L'Manberg?

Absolutely.

Do I think c!Wilbur painted him as a villain to benefit his own power?

Yes.

Do I think he utilized the villain persona as an intimidation tactic and often went overkill with no regard for anything but accomplishing his goals and that he slowly became more and more willing to do bad things of his own accord because he became determined and distrusting of the world to the point of committing horrible actions?

100%.

Analysing that part of the character is the most interesting part, when you consider it - and an important one as well.

2. ignoring evidence

c!Dream antis; please. Stop saying he doesn't care or explaining his actions with obsession or assigning him personality traits or motives that he literally doesn't have in order to demonize him I beg of you.

It's so many basic and easily debunkable assumptions that can be explained with what we actually know of his motives. People will ignore both canon and the authors' words to paint him as some monster with no nuance, which he is not.

We only know so much about him, but people will ignore and deny even the little bit we have for the sake of making him the literal personification of evil and erasing the fact that he is a complex and human character. Just accept he can be accurately analysed beyond hate and let people do it if you don't want to do so yourself.

3. assuming the evidence we have is everything you need to determine a final approach and that nothing outside of the presented evidence exists when certain details prove otherwise

c!Dream enthusiasts; this was the only and biggest problem I've had since being introduced to much more rational interpretations of the character - which is emotions, and one of the biggest reasons why c!Dream gets dehumanized in the first place; the fact that we have little to no showcase or explanation of them in canon.

You see, c!Dream is a reserved character. He likes withholding his plans, withholding his feelings and information from the world.

However, since all we can really get out of watching his actions alone is the rational side (and that is deliberate by both the writer and the character, narratively and personality-wise) people slowly begin to assume there is no emotional side to his actions at all.

Which I find,, untrue. Between the people who erase the rational side of the character and those who erase the emotional side, there is little middle ground, but I don't really find either of them right either.

Because neither would be an accurate representation; just because he doesn't actively showcase his feelings doesn't mean he doesn't have them, and the few inconsistencies that are too small a detail for us to put everything together show that he does have an inner emotional world beyond what we see.

The character does work beyond what we know, and expecting that everything can be explained purely by rationality because that's all we see of him seems a little bit jumping the gun.

It leads to a less person-like view of a character who in reality simply doesn't like showing people the way he feels, and I don't really find that fair to him. It is best to accept there are things we can't say for sure, or to say an emotional interpretation can also be valid at times.

It is both important not to deny him agency and not to deny him the ability to be genuinely hurt by others or changed by his environment.

Both of these can coexist, especially in

the correct interpretation

Ok this is a joke.

I have literally no idea. I'm just throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks - he confuses me beyond belief. The only person who knows about both the emotional and rational side of the character enough to have their interpretation unquestioned is cc!Dream - but when we do try to find answers, it is important for us as well that we do not ignore any aspects or possible aspects of the character, because that is the only way to get useful results out of our analysis.

Sorry this was crit of basically every take about the character I have ever seen but I needed to get my thoughts out.

#dream smp #c!dream #ask to tag as crit #long post #idk i'm big on the c!dream pos #but woobification & dehumanization & demonization are #all equally a problem in the fandom #with the character

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shihalyfie · 3 years ago

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Hello! Since you seem to be getting a lot of character comparison asks, I figured I’d ask if you have any thoughts on the similarities and differences between Ken and Koichi, and also their relationship with darkness? At first glance they seem very similar but I feel the way they view darkness- and perhaps the darker parts of themselves- differs quite a bit.

The two of them definitely have similar base profiles at first, but start to really veer off in different directions after that!

I think the one thing that's most different between the two is that, quite simply, their "base personalities" -- that is, how they act in normal situations separated from all the stuff going on with Digimon fighting -- are actually fairly different to begin with. One thing that might surprise people is that Kouichi actually uses the more assertive/aggressive pronoun ore, contrary to what his supposedly “shy” personality might suggest (of the Frontier boys, only Tomoki uses the more polite boku, and I think it’s in line with Frontier generally portraying its kids as less naturally well-behaved and a bit more misfit). Kouichi’s “shyness” in Frontier is really implied to just be out of the circumstances of him being a bit awkward around the kids he’d been fighting for a period, and especially not sure how to approach Kouji, but Things I Want to Tell You implies that he’d actually had a full-on social friend circle (mentioning friends at school and playing soccer). The only part that made him “out of place” like the other Frontier kids was really the part right before the series, when he learned he’d had a brother, had to question what that implied, started fostering feelings of jealousy towards him, and ended up “passed over” for being chosen instead of how Kouji was, but for the most part his personality doesn’t seem to be that fundamentally different from Kouji’s (there's a point made in a scene in Frontier episode 40 where the twins are looking at Takuya with nearly the exact same expression).

Ken, on the other hand, does use the polite pronoun boku, and although he’s still a fairly casual person (his speech pattern is slightly more casual than Takeru’s), he is kind of...a polite nerd, for lack of a better way to put it. That penchant for intellectuality wasn’t entirely the Dark Seed’s doing -- he’s gone on infamous “trivial fact” spiels like about the origin of Christmas or Japanese hot springs. In contrast to the more easygoing Daisuke, he takes things really seriously, and one could describe him as “so overly serious about things he sometimes rolls into stupid”. He’s also rather tidy (he puts his chopsticks neatly on the bowl when eating, his Digital World outfit is his school uniform, he’s constantly tucking in both his summer and winter blouses, and even his Kizuna outfits are slightly formal), and because he does seem to carry himself softly, he has a stronger image of being a “nice and polite person” who doesn’t act roughly by default. Less so because he can’t be rough or aggressive, but more because he doesn’t want to be -- you can think of him as basically holding back his cards until the time is right or stronger force is called for (meaning he can seem mild-mannered, until he suddenly drops some sassy zingers right when you least expect it).

There are some similarities that go beyond their base profiles; it’s interesting how “jealousy” seems to be part of both of their initial motivations (and, in an interesting meta twist, one of the original ideas for Ken and Osamu was for them to be twins). However, as you said, they have a somewhat differing attitude in terms of what “darkness” is, and a lot of it has to do with a combination of what that even means in Adventure/02′s narrative versus Frontier’s, and what that meant to each of them personally. Ken had an outright self-inflicted identity crisis and an awareness that his fall came from his own personal vices, and the issue is casted in Adventure/02 as a problem of “balance”; Ken himself understands in 02 episode 23 that he has to accept everything in himself, and Takeru reminds him in 02 episode 37 that you can’t eradicate it entirely, but Ken of course retains an aversion to contexts where they’re obviously too much in excess. Kouichi, on the other hand, was probably not going to have a complete emotional meltdown to that degree had it not been for Cherubimon’s interference (although he still wasn’t necessarily having a great time), so being free from that influence means that, with his head cleared, he’s able to confidently deny going back there again and have faith in his ability to use it for good, especially because the part keeping it balanced -- his brother Kouji, as the light -- is able to be there and fight alongside him. His problem was addressed by learning to work alongside and get to know said brother, instead of living in jealousy of him.

It’s also interesting to see how their future plans end up going, since we now have “distant future” canon material for both 02 and Frontier; Ken had “expectations” put on him to the point it practically ripped him apart and gave him an outright identity crisis, so his future involves him allowing himself to not have to live to expectations nearly as much; by the time of Kizuna, he’s still dabbling in soccer and various hobbies and being chaotic with his friends, his “psychology” degree is not even mentioned anywhere except in his official profiles because of how much it’s a comparative non-issue in his life at the moment, and while he’s certainly still selfless, he’s still at the point where being able to just enjoy life as it is at all is a big deal. Even if he hasn’t found a goal in life to completely commit to yet, at the very least, he has the other members of the 02 group to support him, and it’s still important that he’s dedicating his efforts to supporting them in turn. Kouichi, on the other hand, didn’t have to worry about that kind of identity crisis, but he did have to worry about seeing his mother’s selfless streak meaning she was constantly ruining her health for others -- so, having taken on some of that selflessness, he’s decided to single-mindedly pursue a dream of going to medical school to help his mother. Keep in mind that he arguably has an even higher hurdle than our other single-minded prospective doctor, Kido Jou, because unlike the Kido family’s existing esteemed line, Kouichi’s not-exactly-well-to-do background means he’d had to scrounge up funds by being a paper boy while he was at it -- so that’s a pretty big uphill battle he’s taking, but he’s doing it because he knows that’s what he wants, and he also has his brother properly keeping up with him, and in touch with both him and his family situation.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #digimon frontier #ichijouji ken #kimura kouichi #ken ichijouji #kouichi kimura #shiha's ask box #justmakeleftturns

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years ago

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hiii :) for the song prompts could i get #11,16 & 29 for sweet pea x ex!reader who both still have feelings for each other but are too stubborn to admit it, please? 🤍

hey! i love this idea so much so i’m so excited for you to read it! thank you for requesting! also, i got a little carried away, so sorry!

lyrics: things will change they always do, but my heart will stay open for you (stay open: maya hawke)

if you dance with me, darling, if you take me home. will we talk in the morning? (will we talk?: sam fender)

the millisecond that you're away i get the loneliest feeling (give me a try: the wombats)

“I can’t believe we’re here.” You say quietly and he nods, both of you looking at the paintings on the walls and silently wishing that you were anywhere else.

“I know.” He replies, glancing at you quickly before looking straight ahead.

Somebody behinds you coughs, and you can’t quite figure out if it’s a genuine one or if they’re just trying to tell you shut you up in a polite way. Either way you roll your eyes and sit properly in your seat, however you can still feel Sweet Pea’s arm against yours, the soft material of his blazer rubbing against your bare arms making you hyper-aware that he is, in fact, here.

It’s barely been five months since you broke up, and things are still...awkward, to say the least. And it's made even more awkward by the fact that you’re sat together at Fangs and Kevin’s wedding, despite both of you trying to get them to change the seating plan and both of them telling you that they’re stressed enough with this stupid wedding and so you’ll sit on the ceiling if that’s what they tell you to do, that made the both of you shut up and accept your fate.

You’re gonna spend a day, forcing smiles and pretending to be okay with the fact that the other is right next to you, yet you can’t touch them, no matter how much you want to.

“We did it!” Kevin cheers when he pulls away from Kevin, the two of them grinning from ear to ear and holding their hands in the air. Everybody stands and claps, while they walk back down the aisle, now husband and husband and both of them looking so happy that you think they’re gonna burst.

“Congratulations.” You grin and pull them both into a tight hug, squeezing you’re two best friends and trying to convey just how excited you are for them.

“Yeah, congrats guys.” Sweet Pea adds and leans around you to hug them both. You move back awkwardly and send an uncomfortable smile to Toni who just sends you an odd thumbs up before chatting with Veronica and Betty.

“We’ll see you both at the reception right?” Kevin adds. He tries to mask the fact that he’s on edge, worrying about whether everyone is gonna turn up, with eagerness, but the smile he's giving you just looks painful.

“Of course.” You smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Sweet Pea adds and you give him a shy smile. His gaze lingers on your for a little longer than it probably should for ex’s and you feel his eyes trail up and down your body, focusing on the parts that you made sure were accentuated in anticipation for seeing him again.

Fangs and Kevin share a look before excusing themselves and leaving you to try and look busy while Sweet Pea does the exact opposite. You know you shouldn’t, you know it’s wrong to still be loving the attention, to be dressing just to impress him, maybe make him a little jealous, but you can’t help the fact that you love how it makes you feel. All the attention, the small touches, the way his breath fans against your neck when he leans in to say something sarcastic, or the smirk that tugs at his lips when you do something to make him laugh, either on purpose or accidental.

You may have ended five months ago, but you’re still madly in love with him, and even though he tries to deny it, he can’t say he doesn’t feel the same about you.

“How are you doing?” He asks and your surprised by his bluntness. The two of you walk in the same direction as the rest of the guests, both completely unaware as to where you are going, and so you just stumble along blindly and hope that at least somebody around you knows what’s happening.

Sweet Pea’s hand ghosts the small of your back as he lets you through the door first, and the small pause gives you a chance to think of what to say. Do you lie and say that you haven’t spent every night thinking of him, and that the fact that he’s this close is making it difficult to breathe.

“Honestly?” You ask and he nods, his expression serious and he looks genuinely concerned. “The millisecond that you’re away, I get the loneliest feeling.” You laugh bitterly and his eyebrows furrow.

“Oh.” He says and grabs your arm, letting the rest of the guests shuffle past you until it’s just you and him stood in the corridor.

“Oh?” You repeat. “Is that a bad oh?”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “It’s a relived oh.”

“...oh.” You say and the two of you giggle.

“Same.” He adds and you nod awkwardly.

“Do you think we made a mistake?”

“Breaking up or being together in the first place” He asks and you frown, forcing yourself to look at him. “I’m sorry things are the way they are.” He adds and your expression softens.

“I’m sorry too.” You reply and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He stares at it for a few seconds before slowly pulling you closer to him and you feel your breath hitch. “Do you wanna dance tonight?” You ask, trying to change the subject in order to give you a chance to remember how to breathe.

“That depends.” He shrugs, leaning closer to you and your cheeks heat up.

“On?” You ask, trying and failing to steady your voice.

“If you dance with me darling, if you take me home...will we talk in the morning?” He asks, almost begs as his lips brush against yours and you feel yourself falling for him all over again. Your hands cup his cheeks and his grip around your waist tightens around you, and for a brief second, everything that has ever happened between you, all the fights, the tears, the make-ups, the 3am calls and the drunken nights spent together when you told yourself no more, they’re all replaced by this one kiss, and all the possibilities that it could lead to, you just need to make sure you follow the right path this time.

You pull away, desperate for breath, but also yearning for him to keep kissing you, you want him to kiss you forever, you want to be held by him for the rest of time, until you can no longer hold each other.

But then you’re reminded of what drove the two of you apart in the first place. You’re lack of communication and the fact that life had been grinding the two of you down, far too much for you to focus on one another. That sort of things kills a couple, it makes them too stressed to love and even more stressed to talk about their issues so the only thing you can do is argue, and even then, that gets exhausting quickly.

You hated who you were then, you both did. You knew neither of you were the person that the other fell in love with, and you hated the way the other one looked whenever someone said something they instantly regretted but were too stubborn to take back.

You desperately want to go back to a time where you were happy together, but can you really go through all of this again if it goes wrong? But then he looks at you, his expression full of hope and love and there’s a shy smile playing on his lips thats only reserved for you, and you know. Of course you can, he’s worth the heartbreak.

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. “We can talk, but I don’t know where it’ll lead us, I hope it’s somewhere nice, things will change, they always do, but my heart will stay open for you, no matter what.” You say honestly, it’s the only thing you can say, but his smile shows that he’s willing to try, and then he grabs you and kisses you, and you know that you will talk, and you both hope it never stops.

song lyric prompts

sweet pea masterlist

support my writing! if you'd like!

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea reader insert #riverdale #riverdale imagine #song lyric prompts #sam fender #the wombats #maya hawke

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mc-critical · 3 years ago

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Could you do a personality reading/analysis on Nurbanu? Her development, crucial points in her story. Also, do you think she truly loved Selim or only cared about becoming a Haseki and then working towards becoming Valide Sultan? Early S4, we see her asking Canfeda if Selim is going to become Sultan, which raises the question if she was plotting for her own benefit or actually fell for Selim?

I find Nurbanu to be a character ripe with personality, despite that she only has a single season of material. Just like with Selim, or perhaps even more so, I find what was done with her fascinating. She's the second character that follows the general pattern of a "SOW" arc and it's interesting to see how much she parralels and differs from that arc.

While Hürrem starts out on the ship that was going to the Ottoman castle, we meet Nurbanu already there, standing right in front of the doors outside; sharing the same fate as the others next to her, yet it looks like she's entering there like an external witnesser of a whole other culture. But she hasn't forgotten who she is. She's used to a fairly calm life she looks very much proud of, the life of a Venetian noble woman with dignity and pride, and that is suddenly snatched all away from her. She justifiably resents those that have done this to her. She wasn't willing to go through the harem life at first, so she wanted to take her own life. I feel this comes from her genuine hopelessness that overtook her in the beggining, the situation she was in might have been way too much for her. After all, she isn't faced solely with a sense of lost identity, her current position in the harem is the exact opposite of what she was meant to do before. But after she was saved by Selim, it was perhaps then she decided to fight and survive in her curcumstances.

That said, while it may be result of her more condensed development, I always remain surprised of how fast Nurbanu found out what exactly she had to do to go on top. Maybe I shouldn't, since part of her motivation may come from not only her natural instincts, but also her will to return to the closest equivalent of her previous position once again, but the way she orients herself, how quickly she tends to react, the way she decides exactly how to act following both instinct and logic. I really like that about her. She reacts so well in tense situations, knowing which buttons to push to get the wanted effect in all her interactions with Hürrem, Selim, Canfeda, etc. It's telling of how much one particular event can change a person, opening up traits and qualities one may not have previously demonstrated. And for me, Nurbanu is one of the best examples of this.

Her "tertiary character trait" is very unique for the show, and overall: her ability to read the stars is amazing on its own and should be more appreciated, but the way it complements her character makes it even better. It's like a consitent guide for her: whether she's going on the right direction. And when she sees she's supported by fate itself, she gets even more of a push to rise up in the hierarchy and pull a victory. I loved the scenes where she went out to see the stars and where she told Hürrem of her future - they establish a lot about her. I only wish we saw even more of it. (I feel that ability of Nurbanu's works pretty well in a thematic way, as well: it enforces even more strongly that times/eras change, just like the positions of the stars change. And the motif of changing eras is major for her future conflict with Hürrem and the SOW, as a whole.)

Nurbanu also has a very psychological side of hers that was key in helping her realize what exactly Selim needed to get the motivation necessary to fight for the throne. She so often understood what exactly he needed and what had to be done, making her a voice of reason for him that could give him her word of advice. And that evolved even more as time went on: first she helped him to stand on his feet, then both of them made plans on how to get further ahead in the game, in conjunction with her own rise in the hierarchy. Even her provocations (mostly towards Huricahan, but Hürrem too later on) seemed more intentional than anything even when they weren't. Most of the time, she knew where to hit and what to say.

Even though she had a tendency to work more alone and had the intention to rise to power from the start (similarly to Hürrem), I think she fell for Selim. Wanting power, knowing what you need to do to get it and still caring for the person next to you that advances your power aren't mutually exclusive things, especially not in that time period. Maybe all Nurbanu felt for Selim was gratitude for saving him at first, but when she went to Manisa, she did come to love him eventually. She felt jealousy anytime he touched other women and always strived to comfort him in his problems and I don't think it's solely out of manipulation, knowing the core of her arc.

For me the major goal of Nurbanu's character development, her gaining more agency to fight her way to become Valide Sultan aside, was her slowly and mostly letting go of any possible scruple left in her in order to win- letting go of her more human side. We see in many instances in S04A that there's much humanity left in her and sometimes she isn't ready to do cruel stuff, even if asked to and no matter how much she wanted to adapt, she didn't realize how far exactly did she have to go to achieve her goals until a certain point. Because Nurbanu is a very patient character that goes more "one step at a time" in Manisa. She's focused on one certain aspect of the goal that contributes to the bigger victory: first it was to go to Manisa, then to win Selim over, then to make sure no one stands in the way, then to help him get advantage, then to grow herself, then help him defeat Bayezid, then erase the obstacle of Defne, as well, to become Valide, with little to no break in between. And sometimes both her own mistakes (like beating up Huricihan) and the system's cruelty (like Mustafa's death) tend to surprise her and go to paths she didn't expect to go otherwise.

I summarized most of the major story beats in her development (and talked a bit more about her in general) here, but I'll delve into them more. Her relationship with Hürrem demonstrates the best of Nurbanu coming into her own. It's not to be denied that Hürrem was the one who gave her a head start with giving her the name and sending her to Selim's sanjack, Nurbanu's arc began with her being loyal to someone else. But she's just as brave, ambitious and determined as Hürrem and for that reason their paths were always meant to separate. Nurbanu wanted for her own time to come, not to be bound by someone else, hence she isn't one that would blindly follow orders. From the beggining she had her own compass and instincts she would follow and that slowly made her clash with Hürrem, who envisioned Nurbanu as someone loyal to her first and foremost. The distance also helped in separating them, with them only sending letters to each other, when Hürrem was doing her own thing in Topkapi, while Nurbanu - in Manisa, both working for different goals entirely. The first challange of her loyalty she faced was also connected to her humanity, to the demise of someone close to her. Even though she obeyed the order (albeit more accidentally), she swore not to repeat it again and her remaining loyal was put at doubt right then and there. But what sealed the deal was Huricihan, where I feel Nurbanu got completely disappointed at Hürrem not wanting to cover for her, which is why she put out that ultimatum in the first place. Even then Nurbanu was surprised to detach from her completely, even though the hints were there before. I don't think she truly expected for Hürrem not to support what she worked for with Selim in the end, because it was only natural for Nurbanu to help him fight, not only preventing and covering his mistakes. Turning against Hürrem was more of a necessity for Nurbanu - she knew where she came from, but she was ready to fight for her position, even if it meant fighting against Hürrem herself. She was careful enough with her before they became full on enemies, though- she asked her for help when Selim messed up in Topkapi, she was reporting to her about the progress in Manisa, she showed the necessary respect for Hürrem. But that appeared to be over when she stole the ring, the symbolic demonstration that now, the power is in Nurbanu's hands - that's the truth and that's the future, no need to lean on the past anymore. And it's the main thing she would capitalize on now.

Her humanity shone most in two personal aspects of hers: her relation to Nazenin and her fight with Dilşah.

Her relation to Nazenin is probably the clearest showcase of her old ways she's still letting go of. Once they arrived in the harem, Nazenin seemed to adapt way faster; their dynamic changed to a point they were already on equal ground, something Nurbanu isn't used to and doesn't take very well, as a result. When Nazenin is the one supposed to go to Manisa instead of her, Nurbanu didn't like it, either, and wanted to be the one to take that chance instead of her. And when they reunited, they had to deal with the difference in their changed positions much more openly, with "fighting" about who's superior. It's like their dynamic changed in the blink of an eye and it's moments like these where Nurbanu shows her remaining pride to people in front of her, because seeing a person in a lower position before being elevated as highly as her, no matter how much she would care about her, wounds the pride she once had as a noble woman and that was on her way to keep going on. Even then she certainly didn't want for Nazenin to die and her death was about the last fraction of Nurbanu's past going away and the first step of her human side going away, too. Despite their strained relationship, Nurbanu lost a close person who's been with her from the beggining in this game. [Nurbanu and Nazenin have their share of parallels with Hürrem and Gülnihal: both pairs were together from the start and were forced to stand against each other through an order (though for Nurbanu and Nazenin that wasn't the entirety of it), both Nazenin and Gülnihal wanted to gain their agency and became understandably proud of what they've gained and both Hürrem and Nurbanu were against that and did something to them that put that kind of conflict to an end. Nazenin could also be the "Leo" to Nurbanu in terms of the past to an extent.]

Her dynamic with Dilşah, while mostly being a fight for Selim we knew Nurbanu was going to win, caused another human side of Nurbanu to go away - her bringing a dog in the harem and that dog ending up killed by Dilşah. (similarly to Valide killing Hürrem's horse, which played a role in comforting her during the Isabella arc.) That strongly implied that Nurbanu had a soft spot for animals and that she had a warm, caring side, contrasted with her otherwise cold and pragmatic nature. The killing of the dog, done solely to hurt her, helped to further enforce that coldness and pragmatism and went against any attachment, because perhaps such attachment would only render you vulnerable.

But Mustafa's death was the turning point of Nurbanu's arc, just like with Selim. It sealed even further the path of no return when she saw something she doubted was ever possible ("can a father kill his son?") and while she has "played dirty" before, now the methods she was slowly developing were even more assured. It's like she and Selim had to become unscrupulous at all costs.

In spite of her plans working almost everytime, she has definetly acted irrationally and that is a part of her pride. She acted against Huricihan mostly out of sheer pride and she wouldn't allow for someone to challange her position, even rightfully. That ounce of pride doesn't consume her, however, and doesn't go in the way of her plans, and even if it does, she can turn things around in her favor, like with her part in Huricihan's death.

In the end, Nurbanu has reached a point where she is fixated on her own power and victory at hand, mostly discarding anything else. She looked like a very strict mother the moments we saw her as one - wanting the best for Murad and keeping an eye on who he interacts with. She's developed a huge perceptiveness and sensitivity of future threats that extended to Defne and fixed on Safiye - I feel she realized she would be a danger later down the line during their scene together, even if we leave alone her being raised and gifted by Mihrimah. She may not have expected the amount of Safiye's growing power and influence and that may have caused her to be drastic. We're meant to believe through Safiye's words that Nurbanu became crueler as a Valide Sultan, but that could be coupled by both her development and Safiye's own distinct view on Nurbanu. She probably used means similar to both Ayşe Hafsa and S04 Hürrem.

I see Canfeda as Nurbanu's guide in the Manisa harem itself that also helped her in quite a few ways. But they always came to work more as a unit, considering what is best for Selim and the future in that moment. Both of them are smart, quite opportunistic and dedicated to what they do, that's why they complement each other so well. Canfeda, similarly to Nigar, saw Nurbanu's potential to elevate, but still insisted on following the harem tradition when it was needed. (like with Selim's concubines) Nurbanu seemed really eager to learn from her. They had soft spots for each other, but the quickly changing circumstances they were in didn't allow for many "heart to heart" moments.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #nurbanu sultan #ask #nurbanu-baffo

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mooniefics · 4 years ago

Text

in the grand scheme of things [ 3 ]

pairings : zeke jaeger / reader, referenced eren jaeger / reader

word count : 5.5k

tags : unhealthy relationships, relationship discussions, implied cheating, drinking, break ups, mutual infidelity, dubious morality, love triangles

warning : descriptions of alcohol and drug use

summary : you and eren hadn't been doing the best these past few months, and no one that you knew seemed to have any answers for you, or pointers in the right direction. who better to offer you some sound, insightful relationship advice than his older brother. or so you thought.

— originally posted 1 / 28 / 21 on ao3 —

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ: *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

sasha 3:47 pm hey u down to party tonight?? jean told connie he could get us into another one of the azo parties again

you sighed at the sight of the notifications on your phone from its place on the passenger's seat, pensively drumming your fingers on your steering wheel. the most recent party of the most popular fraternity chapter on your campus you'd attended had been the last party you'd subjected yourself to attending—the halloween party where you'd gotten ditched out and subsequently cheated on. though you could admit that it had been fun in the moment, especially when you had caught the struggle between sasha and historia when she saw your roommate snap a picture of her kissing the standoffish sophomore that always helped her with her english lit homework, ymir, rather than the fraternity guy she was meant to be with.

the memory of that night, at least the time before you'd realized your boyfriend and his annoyingly attractive best friend were nowhere to be found, made you consider. classes did start back up next week, and the most eventful thing you'd done over the break was your quaint little family get-together for new year's eve—and your two rendezvous with zeke, meetings that you were slowly beginning to feel more and more skeptical about as time went on—and you were sure that your second semester would drown you in work just as much—if not more—than you'd had in your first semester. so as soon as you came to a stop at a red light, you picked your phone up to shoot her back a message, laughing to yourself when she replied instantly.

you 3:51 pm party on a wednesday? really?

sasha 3:51 pm come onnnn please??? i heard nikos gonna be there! ur rlly gonna make me go all alone??

so that was why she wanted to go, to see the foreign culinary major that somehow always managed to send her back to the dorm with a large plate of food and a blinding smile plastered on her face for at least the next hour. you were honestly surprised that they hadn't gotten together yet, considering how many common interests they'd shared.

a pleasant thought suddenly popped into your head, the thought that she was probably asking you because mikasa had already declined, meaning that she wouldn't be in attendance. armin was out in turkey with eren, ensuring his absence. that fact made you feel a bit less anxious about accepting sasha's invitation. you could catch up with the friends you'd been unable to see while you were off-campus—or too swamped with work to be able to reach out to—let loose one last time before you were trapped back in the monotonous cycle of working, sleeping, crying, and eating for the next couple months until spring break. your mind had been made up.

you 3:52 pm fine. i'll go as moral support. but no promises u won't have to babysit after you've had ur fun with nikolo this break has been rough for me lol

sasha 3:53 pm oh god my i loveyou so much already picking out our outfits

you chuckled to yourself, slipping your phone into the cupholder as the brake lights of the car in front of you flashed off and you eased your foot onto the gas. you made it back to the dorm relatively quickly, sasha more than elated to see you even though you didn't have any food to bring back for her. and just as her text message had read, she'd already laid out one of your nicer dresses and a set of heels that didn't absolutely kill your feet by the end of the night by your bed, digging through the closet with a pile of discarded clothes growing on the floor.

"thanks sash," you giggled, "but don't you think it's a little to be getting ready? what time's the party?"

"connie told me seven-thirty, but jean said for us to come an hour later so we aren't the only ones there." she spoke over her shoulder, huffing as she tossed another piece of clothing aside, "but i wanna look good! i'm gonna hop in the shower as soon as i find the right thing to wear."

holding out your dress before you, you frowned. it was simple, black and made of a sheer, clingy material with lace accents decorating the low neckline, thin straps that bared the entirety of your shoulders and a modest amount of cleavage. it was one of your favorites, but the half-healed bruises scattered across the skin that would be exposed by it wasn't ideal.

"oh, don't forget to take a cheap coat that you don't mind forgetting. it's kinda chilly out, and i always end up losing track of mine during the night."

you let out a breath of relief, remembering that covering up a bit more would be weather appropriate. "yeah, i'll wear a long-sleeved undershirt and something light on top." perfect.

you waited until sasha had gathered her toiletries and scurried off to the nearest bathroom to change clothes, feeling your face heat up at the thought of zeke, the initial deep pigmentation having faded out over the last two days but still a very visible shade of faint red. you were fully dressed upon your roommate's return, earning an excited slew of compliments from her as she wrapped up her hair in a towel and settled down beside you to get started on her makeup.

you were actually grateful for how early she'd insisted on getting ready considering how long she'd agonized over her eyeliner, or how many times she'd applied and removed her lashes, complaining that "something was off" or "it just didn't look right". your suggested time of arrival came in no time at all, and by then sasha was more than eager to start rushing you despite the pace she'd been moving at earlier.

"hurry!! if niko brings food, i don't wanna get there by the time it's all gone!" she whined, jiggling the doorknob to your room impatiently, "for the thanksgiving party, he brought a charcuterie board with all these nice cheeses on it and it was so good, he looked so happy watching me eat it, it was so cute!"

you chuckled softly at her enthusiasm, shoving the last of your things into your clutch, zipping up your phone in the small inner pocket to insure that you didn't drop it and forget on the floor of someone's house this time. "i'm sure that even if we got there late, he'd set aside plenty of food for you."

the walk to the fraternity's designated house was made much shorter by sasha's insistence, practically dragging you along by the wrist the whole way at a near jog. you couldn't deny that you were feeling a bit nervous about the whole ordeal, knowing that you would have sasha, connie, and jean at the very least, but unaware as to what you would really do besides mill around. at the halloween party, you'd been able to play the variety of drinking games that had been set out for the guests with eren and his friends, but now you weren't entirely sure who to stick to for the majority of the night.

you didn't want to bother jean or connie after they'd gotten secured you an invite, and you were sure that sasha was expecting to be able to spend some time alone with the guy she'd came to see in the first place, meaning you'd have to spend a majority of the night alone, or the unfavorable option of mingling with unfamiliar people. but you realized that was a pill you'd have to swallow as you approached the steps of the house, nearly tripping up over your feet from the speed that sasha was hauling you along at, watching her furiously knock at the door.

there were people wandering about in the yard, some on their phones, most likely waiting for their own friends to arrive, and a smoky stench of something that definitely wasn't just tobacco wafting from the group of men camped out on the porch murmuring amongst each other. you could hear the volume of the music inside the house, almost able to feel it thrumming across the floor if you focused enough.

"thomas!" she exclaimed at the sight of a younger-looking blonde boy when the door opened, whose existence you honestly had no idea about until just now, grinning so broadly it made your own cheeks hurt for her, "jean invited us!"

"oh, come right in." he beamed right back, calling loudly over his shoulder, "yo, jean, your friends are here!"

the inside of the house looked just as you expected, already crowded to max capacity, jean having to maneuver past the throng of people gathered near the front to approach the two of you. "damn, i feel like i haven't seen you in forever." he did his best to speak over the music, wrapping you up in a friendly squeeze, "glad to see you could finally make it." he turned to sasha. "niko's already in the kitchen, by the way. asked when you were coming just a few minutes ago."

sasha's face lit up with glee, turning to you, silently asking for permission to go off on her own as if you could ever deny her and her overly-eager expression. "go get 'em, tiger." you smiled, giving her a few pats on her shoulder to send her off on her way, watching her disappear into the crowd in record time.

but before apprehension of her absence could set in, you felt jean's arm sling around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "c'mon, you didn't think i was gonna ditch out and let you hang alone all night?" you giggled, turning your head up to look at him properly for the first time.

you'd first met jean in your statistics class, an unfortunate requirement for your major of choice, and initially bonded over your mutual connection through sasha. they'd been good friends in high school, and you'd just moved into a room for at least the next year with her, so you figured it'd do you well to have someone who could get you in her good graces in the event that you two didn't get along. but, thankfully, you two were just fine on your own, and sasha and jean became your first friends outside of the small group you and eren shared.

the only real conflict of interest between the two of you seemed to be your aforementioned boyfriend, and you couldn't really be upset at him for that. eren could be difficult to get along with even at the best of times, he wasn't a terrible person—at least before he'd cheated—but he wasn't exactly the most friendly either.

"is this piercing new?" you asked, reaching up to brush your thumb over the small earring hugging the shell of jean's ear.

"yeah, got it for new year's. pretty hot, right?" you snorted, earning a grin from him, "by the way, if you need to use the bathroom just tell me, the one on the main floor is fucking filthy. and also probably has no toilet paper."

"will do." you could feel the tension ebbing away in his company, at least when you ignored the annoyed glances other girls were sending your way when they noticed his arm around you, "so, what's on the menu for tonight?"

"well, we probably have every kind of alcohol known to man," he said, leaning down to speak into your ear as he began to guide you through the crowded first floor, "beer kegs are out back, junk food and all the inexpensive shit is in the kitchen." he stopped at the opening to a hallway, smile evident in his voice. "but i'm feeling pretty generous tonight, so if you want some of the good stuff we have stashed, just say the word."

"wow, such a gentleman. do you say that to every girl that comes in?" you playfully replied, thankfully far enough away from the music now that you didn't have to talk at nearly a shout.

"only the ones i like." he added a terribly over-exaggerated wink, earning another small laugh from you, "so, what'll it be? vodka, tequila, or triple sec?"

you blinked up at him. "that's it? when you said 'good stuff', i imagined a little more variety."

"beggars can't be choosers, sweetheart. and anyways we're a frat, not a restaurant, so either take your pick or go enjoy some cheap wine while you watch nikolo and sasha drool over each other."

you rolled your eyes, feigning anger in the face of his attitude, huffing out your answer. "surprise me then, frat boy."

"good answer." he said with a grin, "wait here."

he disappeared down the hall, leaving you to stare in silence at the wall before you and listen to the barely muffled sounds of the party going on just a few meters away. you opened up your clutch to fish out your phone, opening it to find your text conversation still open, catching a glimpse of connie's name. you felt a little guilty that you'd almost forgotten about his expected presence, seeing as he had messaged you and you hadn't heard anything from sasha or jean yet. you decided to shoot him a quick text letting him know that you and sasha had arrived, not surprised when he didn't respond as quickly as he usually did, knowing that he was already wrapped up in getting high out of his mind somewhere here or doing so elsewhere.

you opted to kill time tapping through your feed, making it a point to quickly scroll past any posts with armin's handle attached to them. the thought of eren having fun halfway across the world was both pleasant and disheartening at the same time. you felt stupid for still clinging on to the second thoughts about ending things the second he got back. sure, all the dots connected suspiciously well to create a picture that led to the clear conclusion of cheating, but eren wasn't good at hiding things. you remembered the time in your junior year when he'd barely been able to keep your surprise party that your friends had organized you a secret before one of them slipped up about it and exonerated him from blame, and you couldn't help but ask yourself if he was really capable of hiding such a terrible deed when he couldn't even conceal the harmless types of secrets from you.

the more confrontational part of you said that that was ages ago, that both you and him had changed so much since your time in high school, and maybe one of those changes was what made him put so much distance between the two of you these last months rather than hang around you and risk airing out his dirty laundry. you knew you should be angry with him, you would be more than right to be angry with him, but you force yourself to stop clinging to the simpler times, the days when he'd look at you like you'd put the stars in the sky and said all he ever wanted to do was be around you. you couldn't believe how much had changed in so little time.

"ta-da!" jean's voice interrupted your self-pity, a tall plastic cup suddenly occupying your vision, "long island iced tea for the lady. with a straw."

"christ, jean, are you trying to kill me?" you guffawed, taking the cup from him anyways, "my first real party in months and this is what you start me off with?"

"at least give it a try! after i took all that time to make it for you.." he furrowed his brows at you, only relaxing after you took a tentative sip. it was surprisingly not as strong as you thought it would be, a little on the sweeter side, but it served as a good distraction for the burn of five different alcohols sliding down your throat. "pretty good, isn't it?"

"meh. five out of ten." you snarked, giggling around the straw between your lips.

"typical," he lamented, clutching his hands over his heart, "all you and sasha ever do is use me."

"don't lie to yourself, jean. you love us."

you didn't know if it was the dim lighting casting a shadow over his face, but you could swear that you saw his cheeks flush at your assertion. "anyways.. speaking of love, you still dating that asshole? eric?"

"eren." you corrected, laughing at the error, "and, well, it's complicated."

"complicated? then i'm assuming he fucked up big time, considering he's not even here with you this time around."

you took a long sip of your drink, fiddling with the bendy part of your straw, the thought of his infidelity weighing heavily on your heart. "well he'd probably be here if he wasn't out of town, he's been planning to take his trip for a while now.."

jean shot you a displeased look. "i seriously don't know how you put up with that guy, you're selling yourself short honestly. planning on breaking up with him anytime soon?"

you cast your gaze to the floor, thankful that the warmth of the alcohol in your stomach was helping to ease the cool hollowness settling deep into your chest. "oh hush. you don't even know the whole story, jean."

"well i know enough. if you're in the market for any new guys, i'll scout out someone nice for you." you scoffed at his offer, but didn't outright deny it either, unable to help smiling along with him when he smirked and nodded over to the party in the other room, "now, come play me in beer pong, then you'll really have something to complain about."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

zeke could confidently say that his night had been utterly unremarkable.

another quiet day spent working at the library, where he'd actually glanced at the door more times than he was willing to admit with the hope that it would be you walking in. he'd actually been quite tempted to message you, to ask what you were doing, if you had anywhere between two and three so that maybe he could see you, but he'd ultimately decided against it. he couldn't quite figure out the exact cause of his newly-found infatuation with you, but the rationality of it didn't concern him as much as it probably should've, he was simply pleased to relive the very recent memories of your encounters together and anticipate your next meeting—at least until his younger brother returned.

eren had attempted to goad a reaction out of him with an assortment of unsavory texts calling him just about every name in the book, a constant stream of questions asking why he did it, or what he'd done to deserve such a thing, and even a few desperate pleas begging him to say that it wasn't really you. of course, he'd ignored all of them, and he wondered if eren was trying to contact you as well, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see the messages even if that was the case, though still curious nonetheless.

but for the moment, he was lounging at his usual downtown bar, seated in a booth beside reiner and across from porco at their rescheduled night out, since both marcel and porco were unable to make it yesterday, the latter sulking after his noisy attempt to flag down the waitress ended in failure.

"is marcel actually gonna make it tonight?" reiner asked, plucking a stick of celery from the appetizer platter in the middle of the table.

"no clue." porco replied, sipping his mojito, "said he got caught up at work again, so either the let down text is gonna come any minute now, or he's gonna show up for an hour and then disappear."

zeke chuckled. "post-marriage life sure is tough, i guess."

"you can say that again. he's always calling me, freaking about the idea of kids and his mortgage and stuff that i didn't even think about until he complained about it, scary shit."

"you say that like you're not two years away from being his age."

porco began what was sure to be one of his smart-ass replies, but the waitress had finally approached their booth, hiding her annoyance with his friend with a forced smile as she took the orders for their entrées. zeke pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans when he felt it buzz, feeling the slightest hint of disappointment by the fact that it wasn't you.

"who is it? your new girlfriend?" reiner grumbled, smirking when porco shot up in his seat.

"girlfriend?!" he exclaimed far too loudly.

"yup. zeke didn't tell you he's dating a high-schooler?"

so much for "your business", zeke thought to himself. "oh, fuck off. she's in college." he frowned at his roommate, only met with another tired expression of disappointment.

"just barely." reiner turned back to the man across the table, "it's one of his brother's ex-girlfriends too."

porco stared at him incredulously, eyes wide and judgmental, falling back against the cushion of the seat with a low whistle. "shit zeke.. that's kinda fucked up, don't you think?" he seemed uncomfortable by the unexpected revelation, "you're almost thirty and you're screwing around with someone who's probably not even twenty? is this an afraid-of-getting-old thing? mid-life crisis??"

"she's an adult, she can make her own choices." zeke didn't appreciate the sudden scrutiny, finishing off his old fashioned in the hopes that the bourbon would wash away the self-conscious feeling settling unpleasantly in his gut, "not my fault that her choice happens to be wanting to be around me rather than the guys her age."

"what ever happened to you and pieck? she's hot—"

"and actually over the legal drinking age."

both porco and zeke pointedly ignored reiner's interaction as the former continued. "—i thought it was working out between you two.. what happened?"

zeke shrugged. "just wasn't the right fit for me. but you liked her, didn't you? before we had our thing." he looked up at his friend, forcing a casual grin, "maybe you could give that shot now."

he felt a bit more at ease seeing porco's ears and cheeks flush red, now fiddling with the lime garnish on the rim of his glass. "we still talk here and there.. i don't really know much about what she's up to these days."

before he could answer with more words of encouragement that detracted from the previous, morally-incriminating topic, his phone began to vibrate, and he felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name on the screen. "sorry, gotta take this."

he tugged on his jacket and slid out of the booth, ignoring reiner's chastising glance and porco's bewildered look, passing the waitress who was now carrying a platter with their food and refills on his way out. the cool night breeze was refreshing in comparison to the awkward, almost cramped atmosphere that had developed over their discussion, his breath coming is foggy puffs in the chilled, january air as he pressed the answer button. immediately upon raising the phone to his ear, he was met with a blurred assortment of background noise, able to discern the muffled sound of music and the sound of footsteps outside of whatever room you were in.

"hello?"

"oh, zeke, you answered!!" he could hear in your voice that you were clearly intoxicated, much more than you had been when you were at his house, words stringing together and ending syllables unnecessarily drawn out.

he felt uncharacteristically worried at the realization that you were at a party, one that sounded quite large and crowded, most likely crawling with unsavory individuals that he knew prowled around those sorts of events when he himself was in college. "are you alright? where are you right now? do you need me to pick you up?"

zeke was already digging around in his coat pocket to check if he had his keys, more than prepared to take off without his meal or saying goodbye to his friends inside. "'m at a party on campus, 's okay. in the bathroom. just thinking."

zeke didn't feel eased at all at the sound of loud knocking coming from somewhere, hearing you becoming distant for a moment as you presumably pulled the phone away from your ear to call out that the bathroom was occupied. there was shuffling on the other line, then silence for a short moment. "can i ask you something?"

zeke frowned. the idea of not being able to know who was monitoring you in this state wasn't sitting well with him. "go ahead."

"but don't call me stupid, ok? i already know it's a stupid question, but i still wanna ask it."

"there's no such thing as stupid questions." he assured you, ignoring the buzz of a text notification, most likely porco or reiner telling him to come back in before the burger he ordered got cold.

"do i really have to break up with eren?"

zeke felt something odd flicker in his chest, that unfamiliar feeling he'd felt when he caught you staring at you and his brother's one-sided chat logs, but yet the affirmative answer he thought he would be able to give with no problem sat on the tip of his tongue, undelivered. he thought back to that face reiner had made when he told him who you were, and porco's hesitant words trying to rationalize his actions but ultimately failing to do so.

zeke didn't understand why he felt so conflicted all of a sudden. this was meant to be a simple ordeal, one where he got what he needed to teach eren a lesson and moved on with his life. but now here he was, concerned about your whereabouts, focusing hard enough on your muddled words that he managed to catch the wobble in your voice that betrayed your own state of emotional unrest. he realized a moment too late that he hadn't said anything, hearing a small sniffle on your end before we began speaking.

"god, i can't believe i said that out loud, you must really think i'm dumb r'now, but.. i just can't let go of what we had." he was sure that you were crying now. "i keep thinking about what you said, an' you're right. he's been an ass to me, he practically ignored me for, like, three months, probably fuckin' cheated on me with his hot best friend, so i can't understand why i just wanna keep trying to fix things... and its so confusing 'cause everyone just keeps telling me to enjoy myself an' have fun, but i have no idea what i even want anymore, and i don't even know what we are right now and i can't fuckin' believe i cheated on my boyfriend with his fuckin' older brother and i don't know what i'd ever do if he found out."

by the end of it, you were letting out small, hiccuped sobs, breath fast and uneven just as it had been the night he'd invited you over. he honestly didn't know what to say, listening to you cry, staring at the steam of his breath as it dissipated out into the night. you were a good person, someone who was undeserving of such treatment from either him or eren, but it was simply an unfortunate coincidence that you had been caught in the fray.

he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, preparing to deliver an affirmation similar to the one he'd given you a few days ago when you first laid all your relationship troubles out on the table, but there was a rapid, more insistent knocking at the bathroom door on your end. he could hear a female voice calling out your name, and the jiggling of the door knob.

"hold on," you paused, sniffling, "it's my roommate."

you steadied yourself enough to say that, tossing the phone somewhere before he heard the sound of the door unlocking. "there you are!! are you seriously wasted already? it's only, like, eleven?! why are you crying???" your roommate sounded tipsy, but nowhere near as intoxicated as you currently were, which eased zeke's initial worry, "jean! can you c'mere for a sec! wait, were you calling someone?"

there was a brief pause, and zeke could practically see your tiny nod and teary eyes in his head, then heels clicking over tile and the sound of the phone being lifted, followed by a hurried, "hey, this is her roommate! she's fine, gotta go!"

then silence, just him and the faint noise coming from inside the bar behind him. he didn't know what to think. from the sounds of it, it seemed like your friends were taking care of you for the time being, friends who names he vaguely remembered you speaking of when you'd been detailing your time at the halloween party—people that were unfamiliar to him, people he wasn't sure that he could trust. and a small part of him, a tiny voice at the back of his head, scoffed at his flimsy mask of worry that barely hid the true emotion, his possessive nature, driving his desire to go pick you up and bring you back to the apartment to take care of so you'd have to be there with him another morning with your thankful gazes and blunt, half-awake words.

he knew he was in no place to begin laying judgement at these unknown people in your life considering what he'd done, but it was an innate sort of feeling, the thought that always clouded his mind when he laid eyes on people that were younger than him, that he knew more than them, that somehow he would always be above them in an invisible hierarchy. that same feeling that he felt when he found himself looking down at you.

"zeke?" a warm, friendly voice broke him out of his thoughts, his eyes turning up from the ground to find a tired-looking marcel standing before him, "what are you doing out here by yourself?"

"smoke break." the lie slipped between his lips before he even thought of the fact that there was no cigarette between his fingers, no scent of smoke in the air or clinging to his clothes, "glad you could make it, everyone's inside. pretty sure porco already ordered you something."

but instead of immediately heading inside for zeke to come after him, marcel stood for a moment, lips drawing back and eyebrows knitting into a concerned expression. "is everything okay?"

zeke thought for a moment, giving a non-committal shrug in response.

"still having family troubles?"

despite having been quite fixated on his negative feelings revolving his own younger brother for the last few days, zeke had almost pushed out a majority of the sordid details of the entire situation out of his head, which now seemed to all flood back with such a short, simple question.

"you could say that." zeke scratched the back of his neck, now wishing he'd actually had a cigarette to take his mind off of all these turbulent thoughts, "all the arguing and shit subsided already, but..."

"anything from your dad?" marcel's voice was almost tentative asking that, frowning when zeke said nothing, "sorry.. didn't mean to be insensitive about it."

"it's not insensitive. just," he swallowed, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching out to push open the bar door, a silent, less embarrassing way to signal that he no longer wanted to talk about it anymore, "just kind of fresh. that's all."

they both stood in silence for a moment, marcel's eyes wandering his face, features expressing a clear concern, but thankfully, he didn't push the issue any further, simply following him inside like zeke wished he would've done minutes earlier to save him the trouble, proceeding to the booth housing their friends. the conversation didn't wander back to the topic of him and his morally dubious relations nor his current familial situation, much to his relief, making it much easier for him to just allow the conversation to flow around him, finding himself not having much of an appetite or desire to speak much with so much on his mind.

for a moment, zeke wondered to himself if this was a punishment from the universe, feeling so downtrodden on what was usually one of his more enjoyable nights in the week. not to say that they were always amazing to be around, but spending time with porco, reiner, marcel, and sometimes bertholdt made up most of the meaningful social interactions he had, and to have lost out on it today of all days just seemed like some odd form of karmic justice as a result of him behaving so selfishly.

but he held out for the rest of the evening anyways, going through more drinks that he probably should've, finding easier to tune in to porco and reiner's usual bickering, marcel's attempts to quell them, the ambient sound of bustling waiters and clinking glasses and plates to bury down any thought of you or his family or what was to come at the end of the week, the consequences with much more magnitude in his life than an just an unpleasant night out.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ: *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

previous chapter⥽

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x you #snk zeke #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x reader smut #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x reader smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #m.nsfw

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glitterrosesnz · 4 years ago

Note

*gently places request for kaeya trying to hide sickness/allergies around diluc?*

i took this request and went “ah yes, just a fic with Diluc and Kaeya, nice and simple, i could probably write like 800 words for this and be done” but then Venti and Jean materialized into the fic just for two very specific jokes, and who was I, someone who operates on rule of funny, to deny them, and soon enough this was 1.7k words-

anyways this may not be exactly what you wanted but like. please take it anyways.

It had been a long day.

Jean had politely asked Diluc to accompany her, Venti, and Kaeya out on a mission to investigate a reported monster sighting. Of course, since things could never be easy, there just had to be an abyss mage hanging around. Admittedly, the four of them together had made very short work of defeating it, although Diluc had noticed that, annoyingly enough, Venti and Kaeya had done nearly no damage to it. The two of them were probably distracted with coming up with some scheme to amuse themselves, and Diluc would probably get the short end of the stick if he involved himself in it.

This idea was even more so cemented when Venti said he was "tired" and that they should "rest here for the night" instead of walking all the way back to Mondstadt. That was definitely weird, and the glances Venti kept throwing Kaeya didn't help ease Diluc's suspicions that the two of them were planning something. Jean either didn't seem to notice or didn't care, as she agreed with Venti's request to set up camp, and started building a small campfire, requesting Diluc to light it.

They spent at least 20 minutes in silence after that, other than Venti playing a soft tune on his lyre.

Jean yawned.

"You should go to bed." Diluc said, "You worked hard today, we don't need you pushing yourself too hard."

"Mm, you're right." Jean said, standing up to go and do just that. "We don't need anyone getting sick before we get back to Mondstadt."

Unnoticed behind them, Kaeya choked on the water he'd been drinking, triggering a coughing fit. Venti patted his back comfortingly, while looking at Diluc and Jean with the most exasperated expression. Not that either of them noticed.

Instead, Jean simply went to bed, while Diluc went back to sitting down and quietly tending to the fire. He didn't spare Venti or Kaeya a second glance.

---

A whole day.

Venti had been putting up with this for a whole day.

He, of course, had figured out rather easily that Kaeya was sick. The knight covered up well, but for a god it was rather easy to tell.

(That, and it wasn't like the winds didn't leave him knowing every single secret anyways...)

So he knew. Oh, he knew.

He had been going to tell Diluc and Jean immediately, but Kaeya had stopped him, quietly offering up some high quality wine in exchange for Venti's silence.

If Venti had known how much trouble it would've been, he never would've agreed.

At first it was fine, Venti distracting Diluc and Jean whenever Kaeya had to turn away to stifle a sneeze into complete silence. (Venti knew that couldn't be good for him, but he really wasn't one to talk, so he let it be.)

It was when Kaeya started getting worse that he started to worry.

Especially when they had to fight the abyss mage.

Venti had tried to cover for Kaeya's sloppy, feverish movements, but by consequence it led to Jean and Diluc having to do most of the work. He winced at the glare Diluc had sent him for that, before he turned his attention back to making sure the Calvary Captain wasn't going to pass out.

The heat he could feel radiating off of the cyro user when he fell back to walk in time with him was anything but good.

That was when Venti had called for them to make camp, a call which Kaeya had clearly appreciated, sitting down as soon as he could.

His condition had clearly deteriorated over the course of the day, he was only just barely keeping up his 'cool' composure. He looked like a mess, and Venti was quite frankly shocked that neither Diluc nor Jean had picked up on it yet. Although, then again, they could just be accounting it to the earlier fight....

After the brief coughing fit from Jean's, unknowingly ironic, comment before she went to bed, Venti had thought that Diluc would've of clued in, or at the very least questioned him.

Instead he sat in silence.

Venti spent a few minutes glancing between Diluc and the, now subtly sniffling, Kaeya, before he decided that enough was enough.

Barely thinking things through, Venti directed the winds to blow some smoke right into Kaeya's face.

The effect was immediate.

"Hi'NGTsh-iu!" Kaeya barely managed to stifle the sneeze into his arm, but compared to the quiet of before it was very noticeable. "HiH- H'NTCH-uu!"

"...Are you alright?" Diluc asked, and Venti barely managed to keep himself from yelling 'Finally!'. Kaeya sniffled, the back of his hand still pressed against his nose.

"I'm fine- hiH! H'NGTCHi! S-sorry I just- hEh! E-excuse me for a moment-" Kaeya said, suddenly standing up, stumbling a little as his breath hitched, before turning and walking out of the camp, and into the forest, Venti and Diluc silently watching him go.

"..Well?" Venti asked, after a moment. "Aren't you going to go after him?"

"Why should I go after him?" Diluc asked, with an annoyed tone of voice, but it did nothing to hide his obvious concern.

"Because he's your brother and you're worried about him?" Venti said, laying out the obvious. "Besides, Jean is asleep, and I've got...something else I have to do. So... go on then. Oh, also take this, he might need it."

Venti summoned and threw a blanket at Diluc, which he caught effortlessly. Diluc gave Venti a glance, clearly wondering about what in the world Venti needed to do, but still he did not argue, standing up and walking in the direction Kaeya had.

---

It didn't take long to find him.

Kaeya was sitting on the ground, back against a tree, catching sneeze after sneeze in his hands. The temperature around him had dropped considerably, and Diluc gave a slight shudder as he felt the chill, suddenly very grateful for his jacket.

Kaeya's sneezing fit seemed to be starting to come to an end, the sneezes growing more spaced out, and Diluc noticed there were faint bits of frost starting to gather around Kaeya himself. Diluc sighed as he dropped the blanket down on top of Kaeya's head.

Kaeya must have not heard him approach, as he startled, looking up at him, the blanket sliding off his head to settle around his shoulders. Probably instinctively, Kaeya pulled the blanket closer around himself as he shivered.

"You're sick." Diluc stated. Kaeya avoided looking him in the eye.

"Am not." He muttered, before his breath hitched yet again- "HiH- H'ISCHI-uu!"

"Jeez. You sound horrible." Diluc said, and Kaeya gave a smirk that held none of it's usual 'smug' effect due to the condition he was in.

"Aw Diluc, are you concerned about me?~" Kaeya asked. Diluc didn't bother with an answer.

"I'm telling Jean." Is what he said instead, turning around and starting to walk away.

"No, wait-" Kaeya started, standing up, before his breath caught, and he started coughing, leaning against the tree for support. Diluc quickly hurried back to his side, quietly hovering, not sure how to react.

"...How long have you been sick?" He asked, once Kaeya's coughing fit had died down.

"I'm not sick." Kaeya said, voice weaker than before. Diluc didn't look impressed.

"Don't lie to me." He said.

".....Since yesterday." Kaeya whispered, and Diluc had to resist the urge to punch him.

"Yesterday? Okay, I was kind of joking about telling Jean before, but now-" He said, starting to walk back towards the camp. Kaeya quickly scurried after him.

"C'mon, there's no need to tell her, she's sleeping, and I ca-haH.....can handle it- hIH! H'ISSCHU!"

"You do realize you are being incredibly unconvincing." Diluc said as they reentered the campsite, plainly referring to the way Kaeya had the blanket drawn around him, as well as the now constant sneezing,. "Seriously, neither I nor Jean would hesitate to carry you back to Mondstadt if necessary."

"Don't forget about me!" Venti said, startling the both of them as he suddenly appeared out of nowhere, holding some mint plants in one hand. "I'd carry you too! I'm stronger than I look, y'know."

"...What's with the mint?" Kaeya asked.

"Oh this? I thought I'd make some mint tea, it might help clear you up a little. You sound pretty congested." Venti said, already pulling out the proper materials to mash the leaves.

"...Do I really sound that bad?" Kaeya asked, wincing when Venti and Diluc both nodded yes. Diluc moved Kaeya until he was once again sitting down where he had been before, and Venti pulled out a tea pot.

"Wha-where did- have you been carrying that the whole time?" Diluc asked, gesturing to the teapot. Venti did not give him an answer.

"Master Diluc, if you would ever so kindly adjust the temperature of the fire?" He asked instead.

"...What do you think I am, a stove?" Diluc quietly mumbled, but still complied, using his vision to adjust the campfire's temperature to be perfect for tea making. In just a few minutes, Kaeya had a cup of warm tea in his hands. He quietly sipped at it while Venti pulled out his lyre and started playing again, leaving Diluc to clean up the materials he had used to make the tea.

The steam tickled Kaeya's nose, that and the sudden freshness brought on by the mint made his breath hitch, and he hurriedly held the cup away from him with one hand while he used his other arm to-

"H'iSSCH-iu! hEH- H'ITCHHI-uu!"

"What's going on?"

The three of them jumped as Jean suddenly spoke. They turned to see that she had woken up, slowly getting out of her makeshift sleeping bag.

"This fool," Diluc said, pointing at Kaeya. "Has been sick since yesterday, and didn't bother to tell us."

"I keep telling you I can handle it-" Kaeya started, quickly shutting up as Jean laid a hand against his forehead, checking his temperature. She tsk'ed, not at all pleased with what she had found.

"You're burning up." She said, crossing her arms and, altogether, looking very disappointed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Kaeya didn't respond, pointedly not looking at her as he took another sip of his tea.

"He didn't want to worry you." Venti said, casually plucking another string on his lyre as he feigned indifference. Diluc scoffed at that, while Jean just gave a sigh.

"As soon as we get back to Mondstadt, you sir, are going to bed." She said, lightly booping Kaeya's nose as she said it to emphasize her point, although this had the unintended side effect of making him quickly turn away, ducking his head into his arm to catch yet another sneeze.

"Hi'SCHI-uu!"

#gen/shin #snz #snz fic

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Green Eyes

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1352

Post-episode Hollywood AD

Read it here on AO3

Tagging @today-in-fic

Los Angeles, April 2000

The sun was high as they lay side by side on a large blanket, Scully safely under the shadow of a beach umbrella while Mulder took his chances with the UV rays. It was a quiet day as far as beaches go, and they listened to the hush of the lapping waves interrupted only intermittently by the shrieks of children and barking dogs.

Though the movie premier had been an embarrassing disaster, this time together away from the gloom and emotional baggage of DC had been wonderful. The romantic relationship between them was so new, and something about the sunshine and the bustle of tourists made it feel safer for her to relax and enjoy it, not so caught up in her constant mental anguish of all the what-if’s and the insecurity of letting her guard down around him. The physical aspect of their new relationship had been surprisingly easy to get used to, having toyed with the idea for years, and there was no denying their chemistry. The emotional aspect, however, she still struggled with. Mulder had tried numerous times to have a conversation about his feelings for her and she became so uncomfortable she’d escaped the conversation with a trip to the bathroom or pretending she heard someone at the door. As close as they were, and as vulnerable as she’d been with him on countless occasions, talking about romantic feelings still triggered a fight or flight response in her mind. This wasn’t a new phenomenon for her, but she’d thought it wouldn’t happen with Mulder. She thought it would be easier to let him in.

“Scully, did your family ever go to the beach when you were a kid in San Diego?”

“Yes, of course, it was right there.”

“I always wanted to go to the beach. We went to the lake house, obviously, but I was fascinated by the ocean. We actually had a trip planned before Sam was taken but I could never convince my parents again after that. I think they’d only agreed because Sam was so excited about it. When she was gone it was all ‘the beach is so far away, Fox. Wouldn’t you like to go to boarding school instead?’ I wish I’d gotten to see it as a child.”

Scully rolled to her side to face him, his lean tanned body warm in the sun, his eyes closed behind his sunglasses. She studied him, this man who was so kind and tender with her heart, and her body. When he held her, she felt completely safe and cared for. How he came from such cold and selfish parents, she could never understand. She pictured him as a child, desperate for their approval and love, and always being left wanting. Provided for financially, but not emotionally. Thinking about her own childhood full of love and adventure, bonds with her siblings and the steadfast devotion of her parents, she wondered who he would be if he’d had the same support. Compassion gripped at her heart and she reached out to place her hand on top of his on the blanket.

He peeked one eye open to glance at her momentarily before closing it again.

“You okay?” He asked, sensing her unrest.

“I was just thinking about how many people in your life have failed you. It makes me so sad.”

He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side to face her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean your parents totally left you out to dry after Samantha was taken. The way you talk about your childhood sounds so lonely. You deserved to have someone looking out for you, caring for you and about you, and you didn’t. It breaks my heart a little, Mulder.”

He smiled at her, touched by her compassion.

“I had an incredible education, tailored suits and summers at the lake house, Scully. I don’t think anyone can claim I had it rough.”

“But those are just material things, Mulder. Kids need to know that they’re loved and valued, and that they’ll always have the support of their family no matter what. Did you feel that way?”

He shrugged. “I mean, not really. But it’s all to the good, Scully. I turned out okay.” He brushed his hand over her upper arm, comforting her over his own shitty childhood.

“It’s not just that, Mulder. Phoebe was a total psycho, to use a completely un-clinical term, and I know we haven’t talked much about your relationship with Diana, but the gunmen had some things to say about it.”

He laughed, but was a little disturbed at the idea of Scully and the gunmen discussing his relationship with Diana. That was a dark time.

“Oh yeah, what did the three stooges have to say about it?”

“They said that she was manipulative and cruel. That she made you dress and act a certain way, project a certain image.” She looked down at the towel between them before she spoke again. “They said she was unfaithful to you on multiple occasions.”

Mulder rolled away from her to return to his supine position, playing it cool but clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“Well there’s something to be said for being young and dumb, Scully. I seem to recall you having an affair with a married man in your youth.”

She flinched at the reference, and at the fact that he was perceiving what she had said as judgement.

“Mulder, I’m not questioning your choices or your past relationships. What I’m saying is…” She took a deep breath. “What I’m saying is that you deserved, and still deserve, better than what you’ve gotten. You’re an amazing person. You have your moments, as we all do, but the vast majority of the time you’re so kind and giving and sacrificing. Sometimes I question whether I deserve you, to be with you. So when I think about all the people who have hurt you and let you down, it makes me angry, and sad.”

Turning just his head to look towards her, he cracked one eye open against the blaze of the sun and studied her face.

“Scully, are you flirting with me?”

That earned him one of her rare megawatt smiles. It felt like a victory every time.

“What if I were?” She answered coyly.

Quickly, he rolled towards her and pushed her to lie on her back, bringing his body over hers, his knees resting on either side of hers and his arms bracketed around her head. In any other situation, she would have pushed him off her, embarrassed by the public display. But here, on this sparsely populated beach thousands of miles from anyone who knew them, she let it happen. He brushed his lips lightly over hers before kissing her once, a chaste kiss full of feeling. She brought her hands to his bare waist and grazed her fingers gently over his warm skin. Pulling away from the kiss, he brushed the tip of his nose across hers before bringing his mouth down to her ear.

“Thank you for not being like everyone else in my life.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Note

I was wondering if you could write something with a plus sized reader? It can be any of the witchers and/or Jaskier (although I think esk, lam, & jask would work best). Can be more focused on them finding the reader attractive/hot? I see lots of fics and headcannons abt plus size readers that are all about insecurities and finding the reader beautiful and aethestically pleasing. I'm plus size and I think I am beautiful, just not... attractive. looking hot and looking pretty/beautiful are different. idk if that makes sense I just want someone to think I'm hot. It can be NSFW or funny and fluffy. if you aren't comfortable writing this that's cool too. I just really like your writing. You have created a really welcoming community/page and I felt comfortable enough asking. I appreciate it so much. Thank you. 💜

A/N: I love this ask!!! Though I’m not sure I followed the prompt properly…. :( I wanted to do Lambert very badly which is part of the reason why it took so long to do but I couldn’t make it work with the prompt so I ended up doing Jaskier. I hope you liked it babe!

Warnings: no smut but Jaskier is a cheeky bastard and suggests NSFW 18+ things so if you aren’t into that please don’t read! also mentions of poor self image but Jaskier makes it better

***

You watched the tailor and seamstress murmur to each other in a language you didn’t understand. The seamstress said something, gesturing to the skirt you wore. Then she looked back at the tailor who shook his head disapprovingly.

Their eyes seemed to drill holes into you. You suddenly felt so stupid for letting Jaskier talk you into coming to this expensive shop to be professionally fitted for a dress to match his outfit for the gala in two nights.

But he was just so excited about the gala. It was the first time you’d be meeting the famed Geralt of Rivia as well as a few of Jaskier’s other friends he had met on his journeys with the witcher.

You felt saddened that he was so eager to take you to the gala. Surely you'd only make him look like a fool in front of his friends and comrades.

“Dear? Are you listening?” Jaskier placed his hand on the back of your calf as he moved around the stool you were balanced upon.

You brought your eyes down to him.

“Hm? Oh, erm, yes. Of course, I-I was.”

He frowned.

“No, you’ve got something else on your mind. What is it?”

You shook your head, smoothing out the material to your dress.

“Nothing, Jask. It’s fine.”

“Tell me, please.” He reached up to take your hand in his, brushing his thumb along your knuckles.

You kept your eyes on him for a few moments before looking in the direction of the seamstress and tailor. They no longer looked at you but they were still gesturing in your direction.

“It’s just silly, Jaskier.” You shook your head.

“You look upset, darling. It’s not silly if it’s upsetting you. Step down for a second, my sweet.” Jaskier held your hand as you stepped down from the stool. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, looking at you with furrowed brows. “Please tell me. Did something happen?”

You shook your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Can you understand what they’re saying?”

“Of course.” Jaskier nodded. “They’re talking about putting ruffles in your skirt. Alma thinks a few would be a good idea to add some at the bottom but Derion is completely against the very thought of ruffles.”

You could practically feel the weight lift off of your shoulders. You almost laughed.

“Really?”

“I know. I don’t think ruffles are a good idea, but Alma is an incredibly talented seamstress. She has an eye for creating beauties. But sadly ruffles will not be happening today.” Jaskier waved the two over. “With all do respect to you, darling Alma, I think we should pass on the ruffles this time.”

“Bastard.” Alma swatted her hand in his direction.

“Let’s move on from the skirt.” Derion waved his hand dismissively. “For the bust. It’s the most important part. It will take Alma hours to bead together intricate detailing to match your doublet, Master Julian. She needs to know how you’d like it done in order to begin working.”

“Right.” Jaskier placed his hand on the small of your back. “I’m thinking a rather cheeky neckline. Perhaps an off the shoulder neckline that goes a little deeper than what’s traditionally seen.”

“Jaskier!” Your cheeks flushed as you looked at him.

“Darling, it will be absolutely fantastic! Show a bit of your chest off! Show everyone how sexy you are.”

“Jaskier.”

“It appears as though you have yet to come to an agreement on a top.” Derion spoke, looking between you two. “When my lady decides on what style of top she’d like, please do let us know. Until then, Alma, let’s continue with the skirt while they chat.”

You watched the two move towards the desk off to the side of the room.

“Jaskier–,”

“Just picture this, my love.” Jaskier cut you off, his hand leaving your back as he moved to stand in front of you. “The corset is supporting your bust, holding the girls up and putting them on display–,”

“For the entire gala to see?” You widened your eyes. “What are you trying to do? Make your friends think I’m some strumpet?”

“No! No! Of course not! I think you’d look sexy like that.” Jaskier put his hand on your hip. “And the corset will accentuate your figure–,”

“The figure I don’t have.” You turned away from him, making your way towards the chairs that sat near the windows. You were thankful the curtains were drawn. This gave you some privacy from the outside world.

“What? That’s ridiculous. You have a figure. A marvelous one at that.” Jaskier followed behind you.

“I have the same figure as an apple, Jaskier. Or a pumkin. Round and-and large and just.... There’s nothing you should be so eager to show off at the gala.” You sat down in one of the seats, your voice quivering as you fought to keep your emotions at bay.

Jaskier knelt down in front of you, his hands taking yours in his own. His touch, calloused from years of playing instruments, was warm as he gave you a squeeze.

He didn’t know what to say at first. He was upset with himself for having not noticed that you were uncomfortable earlier. He was upset with himself for making you uncomfortable.

“Love-,”

“And don’t- Jaskier, please don’t try to tell me I’m not.” You whispered, unable to meet his gaze as tears blurred your vision. “I know I am. If you deny it, it’ll be like denying that the sky is blue or that-that grass is green.”

Jaskier nodded softly, understanding your words. He let the silence sit between you for a few more moments. He reached up to wipe your cheeks. Then he moved to sit in the seat next to you, keeping your hands in his.

“You know, my favorite shade of blue is just after the sun sets.” He murmured. “It’s dark and it’s ominous, but it’s stunning to see planets begin to show even though the sun hasn’t set yet. It’s like they’re beginning to come out of hiding. And my favorite shade of green is much more specific than that. Do you remember that time we laid in the lupin field just outside of Cintra all day?”

“Of course I remember that.” You sniffled, a little smile coming to your lips. “You read and sang to me all day. It was a beautiful day.”

“That day is my favorite shade of green.” Jaskier rubbed the back of your hand. He leaned in to kiss the corner of your eye. “And that night…. That night was when I realized my favorite shade of blue, you know?”

Your heart began to race a little quicker. That evening in the lupine field had been rather romantic and intimate. It was one of your favorite memories with the bard.

Jaskier took a deep breath, looking across the room to the seamstress and tailor for a moment to make sure they were occupied with something else.

“Dear heart, you know I would make sure the dress they create makes you look nothing short of the goddess you are.”

“I-I don’t…. I don’t have that same faith, Jaskier.” You shook your head, looking away from him to one of the paintings on the wall. It was of a beautiful woman in a stunning violet dress. She was thinner than you and the dress she wore made sure to show what curves she had off.

“You don’t have faith in me?” He asked softly.

“I don’t have faith in myself. You keep saying I’m going to look sexy and that you want to put me on display-,”

“Y/N, I was only joking. I’m so sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I meant absolutely no harm by it.” Jaskier put his hand on your knee. “I just- My gods, Y/N. The very idea of you in the dress I envision. Everyone is going to be fucking staring. On second thought, perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea to put you in a dress similar to that. In the off chance that I’d be able to take my eyes off of you, I’d have to fight anyone who dared to look at you.”

He wore the biggest grin on his lips and you knew he meant well by it. He really did. But your stomach churned at the thought.

“They’ll be staring because I’ll look absolutely ridiculous.” You turned your head away from him. “Ladies like me weren’t made for galas and ballgowns.”

“I happen to think you are perfect for a ballgown, my dear.” He leaned over to kiss your ear. “I know you don’t see it, but you are absolutely sexy. Hell, if I had a say in it, you wouldn’t even be wearing a gown. But there are going to be other people there and I can’t have anyone else seeing your gorgeous body.”

Your cheeks flushed.

“Can I offer you a little deal? A peace treaty?” Jaskier suggested. You looked at him, meeting his blue gaze. “They have a dress cut similar to the one I’d like to be made for you. Can you try it on for me before we make any decisions today?”

You nodded your head, letting out a little breath. You would at least try it on and let him see how ridiculous you’d look. If you proved him wrong now, maybe he’d listen to you in the future.

“Will it fit me?”

“They can make it work for you so you can at least get an idea of the style.”

“Okay.”

“Excellent.” He gave you a kiss on the temple before going across the room to Alma and Derion. He spoke to them in the language you didn’t know. It was a beautiful language. As he said the words he had the ability to make it sound otherworldly. How could one man, a human no less, make words sound angelic?

Derion and Alma left the room together. Jaskier clasped his hands behind his back, leaned forward to watch where they had disappeared. Alma returned moments later alone. In her hands she held a dress.

The dress was dark green but that was all you could tell.

“I’ll give you a moment to get dressed. Take good care of her, Alma.”

“I will. You worry about yourself, Master Julian.” Alma waved him away.

You wanted to object, to say that you could get dressed by yourself, but you knew very well you wouldn’t be able to. You didn’t want to rip the dress. The material was probably more expensive than you could afford.

“Take off your dress, darling.” Alma placed the dress over a nearby chair. “I’ll grab pins so that we can pin the dress in place.”

“Pin?” You repeated. “In place?”

“Yes, darling. It wasn’t made for your body. We need to make the dress work for your figure so we do that by manipulating the fabric with pins. Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.”

***

Alma called for Jaskier after the dress was situated properly on you.

You nervously moved back and forth as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other to get a better look in the mirror.

The dress fit you decently. It was loose fitting in the chest but Alma fixed that with pins. She pinned a few other spots too but they were in the back so you couldn’t see all that well.

The material was a beautiful emerald green silk with darker green embroidery around the bust. The off the shoulder neckline wasn’t terribly low in the middle where it dipped down, but it was lower cut than what you would usually wear.

“Now remember, darling. The corset will be tighter on you and be providing support.” Alma spoke as she moved around the stool you were resting on.

“My gods, Y/N! I love it!” Jaskier clapped his hands together. “Just wait until we get it in the blue to match my doublet!”

“Alma!” Derion called for Alma.

Alma excused herself, leaving you alone with Jaskier.

He moved around the stool, admiring the dress on you.

“Before I lose myself in my own thoughts, love, what do you think?” Jasier clasped his hands together and held them near his mouth.

You looked back to the mirror, shifting a little.

“I don’t…. hate it as much as I thought I would.” You admitted.

“But do you like it? Are you comfortable with the style? Be completely honest with my, darling. If you aren’t, there is no worry at all! I’ll have them make a style you are comfortable in. I want you to be comfortable first. No matter what you wear you will be absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking and I will be ripping the dress off of you come the end of the night.”

“Jaskier.” You scolded. He gave you a cheeky smile. “I do like the cut and I like the off the shoulder part, but perhaps if we could add sleeves to it?”

“Of course! Oh that would be stunning! I’ll let Alma and Derion know. Anything else you want to add or take away?”

“I don’t think so.” You looked back to the mirror. “I think I’ll like it more once it’s in the blue. I do like the green, but the blue will match your doublet for the gala. And the green makes me sort of feel like a melon.”

Jaskier frowned.

“I wish you’d stop comparing yourself to fruits.”

“Would you rather a toad? ‘Cause I look like one of those in this dark green too. A rather large toad.”

“If you are a toad, then what would that make me?” He held his hand out for you so he could assist you in stepping down from the stool.

“My pretty princess.” You giggled.

“Hmm. Well you are the sexiest toad I have ever seen.” He pulled you into his arms. “But I rather like calling you a fruit. You taste just like one-,”

“Jaskier!”

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @genderfluid-ho @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @thefirelordm @monkeymo @krenee1drful @nympha-door-a @unadulteratedtreecrusade @Aquarius-pisces-rose @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @fl0ating @sometimesiwrite @you-fxcking-wish-bish @thanks-bruh-for-nothing @maan2442 @thegaydeath @creatingstuffinpeace @wellthisstinks @andyrazzledazzle @ameliasmistake @winterwolf @caraqas @bluscryn @thefirelordm @y-napotat @henrycavillbesty @ta-ka-shi-ma @sulkyshengshou @spaced-out-state @thecollection @mayday1284 @babietrain @wandering-poetess @redneckstrash

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

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theseshipsshallsail · 3 years ago

Link

There’s a new club in the Village - Infinity emblazoned in bright, neon letters - and naturally, the building is jam-packed with society’s outcasts on its opening weekend. Oliver grimaces, pressing his third beer to the side of his face, yet the condensation does nothing to soothe his overheated skin. It’s like a furnace of writhing bodies, and with every bead of sweat that bisects his neck to soak into his collar, he can’t help but wonder why he ever agreed to come in the first place.

“Drink up,” Vanessa says, brandishing a bright amber concoction as she slides into the booth opposite him. “You look like you need something a little stronger.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow as he returns the bottle to the table, then plucks the wedge of orange peel from the rim of the proffered glass. It’s been three years since he tasted a negroni, and the potent combination of gin, Campari, and vermouth sends his mind reeling in directions he usually fights tooth and nail to avoid.

“Remind me again why you brought me here?” he asks, trying not to wince at the bitter aftertaste. “This isn’t exactly my scene.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Well, if you ever left your study...”

“I’m up for promotion!”

“You’ll be up for an ulcer if you don’t slow down. Besides, you deserve to let loose after... you know.”

You know, meaning his divorce, and the eighteen month shit-storm that preceded it.

Vanessa has the office next to his, and in between general grousing about University politics they’ve become close friends. It helps, of course, that she understands his situation all too well, and even though her parents never tried to strong-arm her to the altar, she and her girlfriend still have to hide their relationship from the rest of their colleagues.

Oliver sighs as he takes a second sip of his drink. “It’ll take more than a one night stand to loosen me up,” he tells her, and the filthy smirk that curls Vanessa’s lips has him tempted to bang his forehead against the table.

“Whatever tickles your pickle, Professor.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Hell if I know.” Slurring somewhat, she taps their cocktails together, and Oliver laughs as she leans forward, poking him in the chest. “Listen, Ollie, you and Micol did a spectacular job of making yourselves miserable, but at least you stayed faithful ‘til the end. Why not enjoy yourself, yeah?”

“Why not indeed?”

He’s aiming for sarcastic, yet his tone falls somewhere short of exhausted. She’s right, he realises, but Oliver hasn’t had much interest in men or women for a while. He’s not so deep in denial to admit his heart still belongs to another, and being hopelessly in love with someone he can’t have has done a real number on his libido.

“Damn! This place is heaving!” Simone says, slumping in her seat when she returns from the bathroom. Slinging an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder she drops a quick kiss to her cheek, and Oliver averts his eyes, the casual intimacy leaving him yearning for the impossible. “A few too many student-types for my liking, though. Makes me feel like I’m back in the theatre department.”

“Makes me feel like I’m pushing thirty,” Oliver mutters, painfully aware of the significantly younger crowd as he tugs at the cheap material of his shirt. Too many curries and not enough exercise has made him self-conscious of the few extra pounds at his waistline, and depressingly, twenty-eight feels ancient in comparison.

“You wanna call it a night?” Vanessa asks, and Oliver nods absently as his gaze catches on a couple in the middle of the dancefloor.

Caught in a world of their own, they make a striking picture. The taller of the pair is bleached-blond and athletic, his arms wrapped tightly around the slim waist of the man in front of him in a surprisingly protective gesture. Oliver can’t see his partner clearly from this angle, but his skin is pale and shimmering as they move to the beat, dark curls falling in a tousled mess. Whether it’s by artful design or sweat-damp from dancing, he can’t quite tell, yet Oliver is hypnotized by the way they bounce as he loses himself to the music, obscuring his vision until the other man reaches forward, gently brushing them away.

The bass pounds in his rib cage, and Oliver’s throat feels constricted as he watches the brunette link his hands behind his lover's neck. Profile half in shadows, he raises up on tiptoes to whisper in the shell of his ear, and Oliver experiences a crisis of tenderness when he butts their temples together. Something squirms in his stomach. Something raw and envious. Memories flare, unfair and brutal, and he immediately blames the burning of his retinas on the relentless assault of the strobe lights surrounding them.

“Oliver? You okay?”

No.

Definitely not.

The jostling crowd causes the blond to alter their position, and Oliver’s head spins from more than just the alcohol as his blood runs cold in his veins.

“Elio…” he murmurs, vaguely aware of Vanessa’s stifled gasp when she tries to get a better look.

“Your Elio?”

He wants it not to be - wants his eyes to be deceiving him - yet there’s no denying the truth. All that he’s forgotten - all that he’s clung to - coalesces in a rush of unslaked longing, and between one blink and the next, Oliver remembers everything.

“Not anymore,” he whispers, but then, why would he be?

Elio was seventeen when they first met, and Oliver isn’t naive enough to think he hasn’t fallen in and out of love many times since then. He’s beautiful, intelligent, talented beyond measure. Was he really so arrogant to imagine he would still be single? Pining for him, maybe? Saving himself? And for what? A six week romance one too-hot Italian summer? Something his cowardice cut short with a long-distance phone call?

He was, wasn’t he?

Arrogant.

And so very stupid.

“Of all the gay bars in all the world…” Vanessa takes a swig of her piña colada as he continues to spiral. “I thought you said he lived in Italy?”

“He did,” Oliver replies, picking at his thumbnail. “He moved here for school.”

“And you didn't contact him?”

“To say what?” His ears ring from the shrillness of her tone. “Hey, Elio. Remember that time I broke both our hearts ‘cause I’m a gutless schmuck? How about I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“It would’ve been a start.”

“It would’ve been selfish,” he says, tearing his eyes away. “He has enough on his plate with Juilliard. I’d only get in the -”

“Juilliard?” Simone’s low whistle interrupts his self-reproach. “Impressive.”

“Son of a professor,” Oliver explains. “I always knew he was a genius.” He gathers himself with a quiet huff. “Though he’ll probably say he knows nothing.” The spark of nostalgia is crippling, and it takes everything he has not to break down on the spot. “I should go,” he says, draining the remains of his drink as he rises to his feet.

“Oliver -”

“Why don’t you come back to ours?” Vanessa offers, making to follow, but whatever expression is on his face causes Simone to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re here if you need us, alright?”

“I know,” he says, eternally grateful for their support as he pushes some cab money into her hand. “Get home safe. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“You’d better,” Vanessa tells him, obstinate in her concern, yet all he can focus on right now is leaving.

The swirling thoughts inside his head are all-consuming, but Oliver is determined to reign in his emotions for a little while longer. Ignoring the way his shoes stick to the tacky vinyl flooring, he grits his teeth as he snakes his way through the crush of humanity. He needs space. Fresh air. Hell, a damn time machine wouldn’t go amiss. He has nobody to blame but himself, and he’s halfway to the exit sign when his pace grinds to a halt, his masochistic streak unable to resist one last glimpse.

A flash of irrational panic makes him breathe in deep - hold it for a count of three - and when he turns to scan the roiling bodies that fill up the dance floor, he finds them immediately. The shock doesn’t lessen, and if Oliver thought his heart had broken when they’d clung to one another on a train station platform, it’s naught compared to when Elio tips the other man’s chin up with the same fingers that used to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. White noise fills his ears as he ghosts a kiss to his lips - two chaste pecks at first - and then harder. Hungry. Mouths open. Tongues swirling. Deep and dirty.

Just the way he likes it.

Fool that he is, Oliver doesn’t turn away. But he’s not the only one. Their bawdy display has garnered a small audience of the jealous and horny, and when the cat-calls eventually die down he notices a clearly disappointed red-head stalk past them on route to her table of friends.

Time has not domesticated him, it seems, and Oliver feels like crying as the world returns frame by frame - the oscillating pulse of the dance track. The lightning burst of colour from the laser system above. An innate sense of powerlessness floods through him - the depths of which he hasn’t experienced since Elio sobbed against his chest in an attic bedroom - and a heavy weight settles in his belly as he recognises the cues and rituals that were once directed at him alone.

Elio has obviously flourished in his absence. His body language is looser, more relaxed, assured in a way his younger self could only dream of, and Oliver allows an almost-smile as the couple laugh for a moment before turning to walk away.

His fingers itch for a cigarette - a habit he’s struggling to waive - and the next thing he knows he’s taking a seat at the bar, a double shot of bourbon in his hand he doesn’t remember ordering, and a screaming admonishment from his better judgement to not do anything stupid.

All I had to do was find the courage to reach out and touch, Elio said once, rife with self-mockery, and Oliver’s advice was to try again later. Was this it? Their later? And if not now, when? Because whatever his feelings of bitterness - whatever his misguided envy - if he lets this opportunity pass him by, he will always wonder. Always look.

In truth, he already does.

Ever since Samuel mentioned Elio was moving to the States, he’s carried the idle fantasy of crossing paths in some random book store, eyes locking across a busy street, a name - his, theirs, both - shouted across a bustling coffee shop. Of all eventualities, though, he hasn’t prepared for an Elio who might not be happy to see him. Who might dismiss him. Cast him aside like some ill-fitting chapter in the editing process. The context is all wrong, and for it to happen like this is akin to being plunged into the icy waters of the berm.

“Accidenti!” an achingly familiar voice says from somewhere behind him. “Are all Americans incapable of taking a hint? Or is it just an East Coast thing?”

“It’s the accent, mio amico. Fries their brains.”

“Never mind their brains,” Elio replies in the same lazy drawl. “I think you’ve sprained my tonsils.”

There’s a snicker to his left, and like a moth to a flame, Oliver peers up into the mirror behind the bar, only to find his living nightmare mere meters away, sharing a cigarette. Elio’s still wearing the same bracelets he did that summer, and three years of sleepwalking collapses around him as Oliver hunches over, palms sweating.

“Seriously though,” the blond continues. “Look at this place! Wall-to-wall entreés, and you won’t so much as skim the menu. You’re spoiled for choice, compagno.”

Elio scoffs as he brings the filter to his lips. “Didn’t I tell you choice is an illusion?”

“As is time, according to Adams.” The man slings an arm over his shoulders. “And here you are, free as a bird, wasting the perfect opportunity.”

Elio flips him the middle finger. “Stronzo,” he says, leaving Oliver more confused than ever as he studies him over the rim of his glass. “It’s a curse.”

“Self-inflicted, maybe.”

“So what’s the answer? And don’t say forty-two.”

The guy chuckles. “Variety,” he says, signalling the harried bartender. “Things didn’t work out with the violinist - I get it. È la vita! You’re not in the mood for pushy red-heads? Fine. But don’t sell yourself short. Trust Fund Tina’s not the only one checking you out.”

“Perhaps.”

“What perhaps?” A knowing smirk shoots in Oliver’s direction. “See for yourself.”

It’s like experiencing the first tremor of an earthquake. Elio was always a force of nature, and bracing for disaster, Oliver feels the fault lines buckle beneath him. He thought he was done letting fear and shame dictate his life, yet even now, at peace with his true self, he can’t bear to witness the seismic shift between past and present. Instead, he falls back on avoidance, tearing strips off a frayed beer mat until the hair prickles at his nape.

He can feel it - the instant his fate is sealed - and taking a deep breath Oliver returns his eyes to the mirror, meeting Elio’s stunned features. Dark brows climb towards his hairline as the happiness on his face shifts into something else. Something measured. Unrecognisable. A blank slate, almost. For a moment, Oliver fears he’s going to ignore him completely, but then Elio straightens his spine, offers the half-smoked cigarette to his friend, and with a few whispered words strides forward with purpose.

His daring is a law unto himself, but the look he’s giving him now exudes superiority - omniscience, almost - as if he can read every thought that’s going on inside Oliver’s mind, and has already deemed them wanting. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, yet his heart skips a beat regardless. Then another. Every instinct in his body tells him to reach out, to hold Elio’s hand, tuck those wild curls behind his ear, but it’s no longer his place - if it ever really was to begin with - so Oliver takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey, scared and aroused simultaneously, before swivelling towards him.

“Oliver.” His name on Elio’s lips - three smooth syllables - and he feels reborn. “Long time no see.” Hesitating, he offers up a pack of Luckies. “Fumo?”

“I shouldn’t,” he says, dragging trembling fingers through his hair. “I told myself I’d quit. God knows it won't take much to -”

“Tempt you?”

Heat rises to Oliver’s cheeks. “Yes,” he admits, and Elio’s smile is a shallow, brittle thing.

“Well, you know yourself,” he says, returning the cigarette carton to his pocket. “Don’t let me ruin your good intentions.”

His flippancy is like a red rag to a bull, and Oliver’s hackles rise as he sets his drink on the counter, irritated enough by Elio’s calm exterior to try and provoke a reaction. “Is your boyfriend not the jealous type?”

All he receives is an eye roll. “Bruno’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me. From what I saw earlier.”

“You saw nothing,” Elio replies, defensive. “We’re friends. Roommates.”

“Roommates?” Rising from his stool, Oliver takes a step towards him. “That kiss -”

“Is none of your business. Not anymore.”

It hits him like a punch to the gut. Oliver’s lips part, but no sound passes between them. He’s being irrational, he’ll accept, but old habits die hard, and through sheer force of will he quashes down his guilt, knowing better than to use it as a weapon.

“Of course,” he says, chastened. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Elio…” This isn’t how he wants the conversation to go. “I know it’s too much to expect your forgiveness, but please don’t be angry with me. We were friends, once. Before anything else.”

“I’m not angry.” A beat. “Not anymore.” Tipping his chin, Elio folds his arms in front of him. One more barrier despite the brush-off. “I’m processing.“

“Processing?”

“Yes, processing. Originates from the Old French proces. Related to the Latin processus, and from the verb procedere in Middle English.”

“Wise ass.”

“Sempre.” Elio shrugs, watching him openly. “What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“My friends saw the flyers,” he says, bypassing the here, specifically, when Elio’s attention drops a few inches lower, and he realises he’s staring at his ring finger.

At the white line that’s all but vanished since he signed his way to freedom.

“You’re…”

Oliver clears his throat. “Divorced,” he manages, shuffling his feet. “Almost three months now.”

“Divorced?” Elio’s mask slams back into place, the distress in his voice palpable. “Why?”

And there are so many things he could say to that - the stress of his job, money, differing expectations - but this is Elio. His first love. His forever love. He, above anyone, deserves the truth.

“I think you know why.”

“Do I?” That same phony indifference. “What the eyes see, and the ears hear, the mind believes.”

“The truth is never that simple.”

“Not for us, it seems. Not in this world.” Elio gives his head a small but firm shake, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know, tonight was supposed to lower my stress levels, not raise them,” he says, granting them a temporary reprieve. “But then, you always were hazardous to my blood pressure.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” Oliver tells him wryly. “Might I recommend some deep breaths?”

“Deep breaths?” Elio rocks back on his heels. “If I had any peaches I’d be using my right hand.”

It catches him unawares, and Oliver can't help it. He snorts. Overcome by relief. Then he laughs - a weak sound, and damn near helpless - but a laugh, nonetheless. Cupping a palm to his mouth. Moving it to his eyes. Feeling the tears he’s been fighting since this whole debacle began.

“My God you’re incorrigible,” he mutters, the sharp stab of regret cutting him to the core as he glances over his shoulder, and the blond - Bruno - shoots him a wink. “When you said I saw nothing...”

The hesitant curve of Elio’s smile lights a fire in his chest. “There was a girl on the dance floor who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lucky for me, Bruno’s never been shy about putting on a convincing performance.”

Oliver winces. “Well, I bought it.”

“Mission accomplished, then.” Elio edges closer. “I could’ve said the same for you, once upon a time.” The air between them grows charged. “Do you ever miss it?” he asks. “Italy, I mean?”

“Every single day.” Oliver finds himself captivated by the smattering of stubble along Elio’s jawline. The touch of smudged kohl beneath his lashes that turns his gaze smouldering. “Do you?”

“In a way.”

“Just a way?” He’s not entirely certain they’re talking about the same thing, and Vanessa’s advice seems all the more pertinent. “Let me buy you a coffee?” Oliver asks, and Elio frowns.

“What? Now?”

“If you like.”

“It’s gone midnight!”

“Tomorrow, then. Whenever you’re available.” Suddenly desperate, he closes the gap between them. “I can’t excuse my actions, Elio - I know I can’t - but at the very least I owe you an explanation.”

“Oliver...” This time it’s Elio who reaches out, his usually steady hands uncertain as they entwine with his. “I was young, not stupid. What’s there to forgive? You left because you had to. You married because -”

“I was weak.”

“Cazatte!” The tension in Elio’s body snaps back like a coil. “My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility,” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I’ll never forget those words.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be!” Elio sounds furious on his behalf. “Weak, you say? No. Control over others is the true weakness. Coercion. Conformity. All it does is breed hatred. And that’s not you. Not my Oliver.”

“Am I still?” he asks, laying his cards out on the table. “Your Oliver?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Oliver swallows thickly. “I guess we will,” he says, dropping his forehead to Elio’s crown.

He’s braver at twenty-one than Oliver could have dared imagine, and for the first time in years the dull ache beneath his ribs is replaced by a different sort of craving. The way they fit together so easily, like no time has passed, fans the banked passions within him - the desire to press his lips against Elio’s neck, to nip his way along countless freckles until he can fist those unruly curls and guide his mouth back to where it belongs.

Flush against his.

Devouring.

But not yet.

This isn’t leading to sex. Not tonight. This is about reconciliation. Reassurance. Redemption.

“There’s a late-night diner on the corner…”

It’s a whisper against his cheek - so quiet he barely hears it - and Oliver leans down, pressing his face to Elio’s collarbone, breathing him in. He knows this won’t be easy - knows there will be dark clouds before the dawn - yet here they are, older and wiser, and three years might as well be yesterday as the parting crowds provide a temporary island in which to weather the storm.

#cmbyn roll the dice challenge #fanfic #oliver pov #elio and oliver #cmbynrollthedicechallenge

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shihalyfie · 4 years ago

Text

The Kaiser wasn’t very good at being a villain (and that’s the point, actually)

Ken’s journey of redemption is generally well-documented overall, and it was explicit enough in the series that there’s only so much you really need to explain it, but due to the blurred boundary of what was supernatural influence from the Dark Seed and what was Ken’s own emotional problems wreaking havoc, it’s somewhat more difficult to bridge that gap between the Kaiser and Ken, and how they can be the same person.

The easiest way to understand it comes from both directions. One is that Ken, even in his normal element, is much more assertive than he’s often given credit for -- it’s just that the Kaiser is a (fragile) manifestation of that very carefully cultivated to channel that in all of the wrong directions. The other has to do with the fact that the Kaiser is actually really terrible at being a villain, and the persona itself is very fragile and difficult for him to maintain.

Rewatching the first half of 02 shows multiple indications that, for all he seemed to be the stereotype “evil genius”, Ken was forcing himself into the mold. He was never cut out for it from day one. Even from the beginning, Ken’s actual nature as a lonely and inherently kind eleven-year-old child was tearing apart at the Kaiser persona, and the fateful episode 21 was not so much a single turning point for him as much as it was the last straw in a series of things tumbling down for him.

Before we continue: While all of the meta on this blog is only possible thanks to support and input from a handful of friends (whose names will not be disclosed on account of privacy requests), this one in particular arose from a long and extensive discussion with said friends that I am extremely grateful for. As always, I hope I was able to convey your points well.

Well, firstly, it’s important to understand that, much like nearly any other character in this series, Ken’s surface demeanor is a bit deceptive. The Crest of Kindness has the original Japanese name of yasashisa (優しさ), which has a secondary meaning of “gentleness” (lost in translation, but still apparent with the bubble metaphor in 02 episode 23). That also ties into the secondary meaning of “kind” -- it’s not just about being naturally “soft”, but actively choosing to be gentle with others even when you’re theoretically capable of not doing so. (For those of you who have seen Appmon, the entire point of that series was about what it means to consciously and deliberately choose to be kind, and, in fact, quite a few parallels could be made between Ken and Haru...)

The contrast between Daisuke and Ken goes far beyond just the surface. Daisuke’s surface demeanor is abrasive, but he’s not actually very good at being assertive until push comes to shove, and he otherwise tends to bend easily to others or get overwhelmed; in contrast, Ken has a more polite demeanor and for the most part seems non-confrontational, but has much stronger control of his emotions and is more easily able to be assertive than Daisuke is. (Of course, both of them share the common point of being like-minded when it’s something that really matters, but Ken is much better at imposing his will and getting what he wants done before Daisuke ever gets to that point, which is what fuels the whole punchline of Daisuke and Ken’s Shopping Carol.)

So, the point is: Daisuke is kind out of instinct and just “naturally” being so, but Ken is kind because he consciously believes in treating others well and not causing conflict, and not causing pain to others.

That’s not to say that Ken’s behavior is out of suppression or anything! It’s not a case like Takeru, who’s trying to push complicated emotions down while pretending they’re not boiling under the surface, nor is he like Hikari, who’s compulsively pressing her emotions down out of a desire not to burden others. Rather, even as early as 02 episode 26, he’s very straightforward about what his issue is and what he thinks about it. Ken’s “shyness” during the latter half of 02 is largely due to shame and hesitation from not knowing the other 02 kids well, but as the series goes on and as we go into post-02 material, he indicates that he’s perfectly wiling to be vocal about what he thinks without necessarily fighting any compulsion to suppress it. For someone who claims he doesn’t know much about his own heart, he arguably seems to have the best grip on understanding himself compared to a lot of this cast!

So in essence, the main take-home here is that Ken is theoretically capable of being strong-willed and assertive, and is very good at choosing when he wants to be assertive and when he wants to hold back. And he likes seeing people get along, and he wants everyone to be happy, and he doesn’t like seeing people be hurt or hurting others, and under normal circumstances, Ken has very good control of his emotions for the most part and quite a lot of self-awareness. That’s why Ken is the one to get the unique designation of this Crest; everyone in this cast can be said to be generous and supportive of others in some form, but there’s a difference between being a “natural” doormat who defers to others by default (Daisuke being a very good indicator of how this kind of mentality has a flip side of lack of self-esteem and high insecurity, and Tamers’s Takato being a good indication of how “being deferential” doesn’t necessarily preclude you from having tendencies towards selfishness or cowardice), versus choosing to be kind by understanding everything and still being gentle out of a belief that it’s the right thing to do (again: see Shinkai Haru). And it’s why Wormmon says in the 02 episode 23 flashback that Ken’s kindness can be used against him; being “kind” in this way requires a lot of mental fortitude, strength, and guts, all of which are things that could easily be very bad things when applied in the wrong direction.

This means that all the Dark Seed really needed to do in order to turn him into the Kaiser...was make him lose grip on that self-control.

Actually, Ken says it himself in less-than-subtle words in Spring 2003:

…It was revenge. But who was this revenge against? Did I want to triumph over the ones who made fun of me? The ones who looked down on me and used me? But… In the end, it was revenge against myself. I couldn’t do anything but deny the kind of human being that I was.

So in other words, the Kaiser persona was, effectively, a self-loathing eleven-year-old boy throwing a massive tantrum. A lot of the Kaiser’s actions in the first half of 02 are honestly rather petty -- he’s basically upset at the kids spoiling his holiday in 02 episode 6, he attempts torturing Daisuke out of a petty grudge over a soccer sliding tackle in 02 episode 8, and everything to do with expanding his territory and eventually (hopefully?) becoming ruler of the Digital World is frankly very sloppy. For all he’s said to be a genius, his genius only seems to extend to book smarts, and his “tactical planning abilities” never really expand beyond that of a soccer field sort of affair; his way of locking down control on other things is basically just “brainwash it harder” or “whip it harder” and applying harder brute force instead of doing something in the long-term like, say, trying to rule with charisma and recruiting allies.

(Again, bringing Appmon back into this, seeing Cloud in action will give you a much better example of a charismatic human villain who’s actually competent at his job. Or, heck, you can even look back at Savers’s Kurata, who at least was savvy enough to pull strings with people in powerful positions. Or even the Kaiser’s predecessor Saiba Neo from V-Tamer, who may have been openly sadistic but still had the sense to align himself with background power. Really, compared to all of these folks, the Kaiser is downright pathetic.)

Remembering that Ken fell into the Kaiser persona partially as a desperate attempt to become a “perfect person” like Osamu, Ken “imitated” Osamu’s cruelty to him because he felt that was how he could improve himself to become a “strong” person better than him. But the irony here is that Osamu’s “cruelty” was something that he himself never liked, and mainly came from lashing out at Ken due to feeling like he had a lack of control over his own life. So Osamu was never happy in that position, and Ken, who is indirectly pointed out via the bubble metaphor to be even more fundamentally inclined towards gentleness, is probably even more miserable.

Because everything Ken does as the Kaiser is “unfocused lashing out at everyone”, the Kaiser has less control over his emotions than Ken normally would. Takeru manages to emotionally pin him to a corner by confronting him with enough assertion in 02 episode 19 (this is before he punches him), and correctly points out that the Kaiser isn’t capable of winning with words (i.e. ideologically) and resorts to violence as the first thing he can think of. You’d think that if the Kaiser were actually someone with the self-confidence to consider the other Chosen Children beneath him, he wouldn’t even bother giving them the time of day, but Takeru just happening to be a little assertive is enough to make him lose his composure and start falling apart, and a lot of his shaken “insects!” yelling comes from him seeming pretty desperate to cling onto that rather than being all that confident about his natural superiority over anyone. 02 episode 20 establishes that he’s getting himself in over his head by tampering with the powers of darkness he can’t control, and while, on a plot level, it means that he’s misjudged his own capabilities, on a metaphorical level, it corresponds to the fact that even Ken himself is incapable of getting himself out of the emotional abyss he’s in.

And on the flip side, one of the biggest “tells” that Ken is still miserable during all of this is 02 episode 9, where he’s seen ruminating on the “glory” he’s getting in the real world despite having just decided to leave it all behind. The episode prior, after all, had been called “The Digimon Kaiser’s Loneliness”. The media is using him like some kind of “hot topic”, his parents’ affection (in his mind) is shallow and based only on his achievements, and he has no friends (how much of a role Akiyama Ryou played in his childhood is unclear, but either way, he’s no longer around now). With no emotional support coming from any direction in the real world, he’s resorting to at least trying to have some “fun” in what he perceives to be a “game”, and yet he’s still not having fun at all.

If you look carefully at a lot of the Kaiser’s actions during the first half of the series, one thing you’ll notice is that there are multiple indications that he’s not quite up to par to being as sadistic as you’d think he’d be. Recalling that we learn in 02 episodes 20-21 that the Kaiser is under the impression that the Digital World is like a game that he can “reset” and the Digimon in it not real living beings, it has interesting implications of the fact that he’s actually very hesitant to physically harm other human beings -- he certainly likes emotionally toying with them, but even when he’s trying to take petty revenge on Daisuke in 02 episode 8, he goes out of his way to set up a trap with Bakemon to torture him rather than, well, actually using the kids as hostages. That’s a hell of a lot of work to do, but he instead uses this extremely roundabout way to get them out of the picture in a somewhat less harmful way, risking having them escape (which is exactly what happens).

And in 02 episode 19, when Takeru confronts him and he ends up whipping him, you can hear a slight “...gh?” in the Japanese audio for a split second right after that, meaning that the Kaiser is, for some reason, having a hard time dealing with the fact that he just hit Takeru, and he does a very poor job defending himself against Takeru punching him out despite ostensibly being trained in judo. (Seriously, if you watch the animation of the scene, he’s just lying there while Takeru repeatedly punches the hell out of him, because he’s so out of it.) Regarding the Digimon, he’s convinced himself that they’re not living beings, but regarding the human Chosen Children, who undeniably are, no matter how much he might look down on them, he has a suspiciously hard time harming them as much as he could...

On top of that, one interesting question that might come up to one rewatching the first half of 02 is the strange “contradiction” of why the Kaiser ostensibly seems to hate Wormmon so much, calling him an unworthy idea of a partner in 02 episodes 10 and 19, and yet does remarkably little to get Wormmon away from him or off his case (he hates Wormmon calling him “Ken-chan”, yet doesn’t really try very hard to stop him). He could have easily locked Wormmon away in a cage or something if he really wanted to -- actually, there’s the question, why doesn’t he slap an Evil Ring on him? Because in the end, Wormmon is the only emotional support he’s really getting, and so it’s likely he unconsciously doesn’t want to lose that. Recalling that Digimon are fundamentally linked to the inner self, the Kaiser rejecting Wormmon for being “weak” is analogous to Ken rejecting his own self for being “weak” and “not perfect” -- which means that the fact he still keeps Wormmon around is analogous to the fact that Ken hasn’t really been able to bring himself to completely let his fundamental nature go. And, hence, it’s why he gets so initially incensed at Wormmon’s “betrayal” at 02 episode 10 (and yet still keeps him around despite that), and is ultimately emotionally destroyed by his death in 02 episode 21.

Although, actually, if you look carefully at 02 episode 21, it’s not quite Wormmon’s death that necessarily does it -- the turning point where he sheds the Kaiser persona is right before that (and in case you have any doubts, the animation puts highlights in his eyes for the first time in the series right at that point). Wormmon’s death is the first major consequence of his actions that he has to deal with, but what actually brought Ken back to his senses was his own realization that Digimon are living beings, that his actions have had permanent effects this whole time, and that he can’t take back anything he’d done.

Remember that 02 is a series that is largely about moving on and accepting that you can’t change the past, and that you have to move forward regardless of that. Ken’s fall into sadism was only possible by driving him into extremely deep-seated denial -- he was already starting to face the potential reality of Digimon being real, existing beings in the real world an episode prior. He says, outright, in 02 episode 21, that part of the reason he came to the Digital World to do all of this was escapism -- and, presumably, under the idea that any mistake he made could be rolled back and redone, unlike Osamu’s death. But the Digital World is not a place you can reset like a game, Ken will have to live with the consequences of his actions again, and moreover, every single one of the actions he’d been convincing himself were relatively meaningless had caused severe and permanent harm, and the entire thing overwhelms him.

It’s also important to point out that this was probably where the Dark Seed had to work a lot of magic to get Ken to embrace this kind of denial so easily -- after all, it’s established in the final quarter of the series that it does have a tangible impact on personality and puts a damper on one’s ability to feel empathy. In the flashback in 02 episode 23, regardless of whether Ken considered the Digital World to be a “game” or “able to be reversed” or not, he clearly still didn’t care and treated those around him with proper kindness (even if he did consider it to be all of that, it probably wouldn’t have been entirely unlike how a lot of us have a hard time picking rude choices in video games). It’s a very complicated chain reaction of events that allowed this to be even possible, and it was so against his fundamental nature that once the denial broke and Ken reached his limit, he wasn’t able to do it anymore. The Chosen Children’s main role in 02 episode 21 was really just cleaning up the massive mess he’d made in the form of Chimeramon, but as far as the whole thing about the Kaiser’s persona completely falling apart and Ken being forced to confront his own self goes, that was pretty much all Ken and Wormmon, in a series of dominoes that had already been collapsing for episodes on end.

The following episodes have Ken treat the 02 team with a certain amount of detachment, and this is often construed by a handful of people as being reflective of Ken being standoffish of some sort. The fact that Daisuke and Ken are often promoted in franchise materials as “rivals” mainly due to them being in the “protagonist and right-hand-man” position such characters are in might tempt you to think that way, but they are most definitely not!! (Considering that even saying that Taichi and Yamato fit that mold is a bit questionable, and neither Ruki nor Jian quite fulfill the expectations of the role in regards to the genre-subverting Tamers, Frontier, which is explicitly said to be deliberately written to be conventional, is probably the first proper execution of this trope in the form of Takuya and Kouji.) Ken’s detachment from the group at this time in the series is something he actually gives the reason for quite directly: he believes it’s his fault and doesn’t want to burden them with what he considers to be his job, and in the end Daisuke ultimately breaks through to him and they become completely normal friends who get along. “Rival” what?

Ken is, at worst, distant during this point of the series, but he’s actually very straightforward about what he wants and intends to do; it’s just that he’s being a bit blunt about it because he’s still drowning in his shame and not sure how to approach them. (Also, consider the fact he was rather lacking in friends or a support group before all of this; he doesn’t have a lot of experience in socializing, either.) So he keeps everyone at arm’s length, and the reason he comes off as so standoffish is because he’s so assertive! He directly and bluntly makes some very strong remarks about how he believes everyone else shouldn’t be getting involved! Again, when left to his own devices and not being manipulated into by a supernatural evil seed into multiple levels of denial, Ken is very in control of what he wants and thinks, and is even very open about speaking his mind.

That’s even when they’re not good decisions, mind you. Ken starts off the climax of 02 episode 26 being very firm about wanting to suicidally throw himself into the reactor in order to stop it, and 02 episode 30 has him consider himself a burden to the team after the fallout with Iori and try to stay out of it despite them very badly needing his presence, which Daisuke (of all people!) rightfully calls him out for being childish about. But he also listens to reason very quickly and acknowledges the others’ point very easily, with Daisuke reminding him in 02 episode 26 that his suicidal recklessness is actually pretty self-centered and short-sighted of him, since it’ll prevent him from doing anything else to take responsibility for his actions going forward, and Miyako, uh, slapping him in 02 episode 30. (But he comes quietly right away as if acknowledging his own idiocy, and never holds it against her thereafter.)

Nevertheless, the point is: you can see that this kind of assertiveness is the same kind of assertiveness he had as the Kaiser, just channeled in a different direction and for a different purpose. But as the Kaiser, he was angrily lashing out at anything and everything and stepping on anything he could just so he could have a show of power; once he comes back to his senses, he reserves that force for it being something he consciously believes is the right thing to do (regardless of whether it’s actually the right thing to do or not).

Because of the fact Ken spends a lot of the last quarter of 02 suffering and parsing a lot of trauma, a lot of people have tended to pin him as constantly sad and being a soft crybaby, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! Despite all the emotional pain he goes through, Ken has a hell of a ton of strength through all of this -- he even flings a well-aimed quip at Oikawa in 02 episode 44 despite being in a completely helpless situation, and in 02 episode 45 he himself is the one who volunteers to open the gate to the Dark Ocean, despite knowing exactly what it entails. That takes a lot of guts, and all things considered, his recovery from being the Kaiser spans only four months and is altogether incredibly fast given what he went through -- it did not take long for him to regain his bearings and get himself back on track. Again, it’s the same kind of “assertiveness” and capacity for action that fuels what the Kaiser did, just better controlled and in a direction Ken knows he actually wants.

This is also why I tend to object to insinuations that Ken would be overly touchy about or traumatized by the mere discussion of him being the Kaiser in the aftermath of 02, because the series itself, multiple times, portrayed him as being very able to talk about his experiences bluntly and honestly, at worst maybe considering it a bit of an awkward topic. He has no problems admitting that it was a thing that happened, especially if it involves discussing it as part of taking responsibility or preventing further damage -- it’s just that he of course doesn’t enjoy it either, and is equally as open about the shame he feels as a result. All of the times Ken loses his composure in the latter half of 02 involve either physical pain being inflicted on him, or a lot more actively vicious invocation of his memories and insecurities, and even then he gets himself back on his feet with a rather prompt amount of speed. Poorly timed of a statement as it may have been, Miyako is not incorrect when she says in 02 episode 31 that he has a certain amount of natural resilience that he carried from being the Kaiser.

All the way back in 02 episode 9, shortly after it was revealed to the group that Ken was the Kaiser, Iori, Hikari, and Takeru all label Ken as someone who doesn’t look like someone who could do something so horrible, and Hikari even says that his smile looks “gentle” (note that this is yasashisou, a word derived from the same root word used for his Crest). So in other words, even all three of them were able to catch on to his actual nature betraying himself even during that awful period of time. It’s still poking through, all things considered.

But we as the audience know he’s putting on that face for the camera, and his eyes are still as dead-eyed as they are for the first half of the series, and when Miyako accidentally makes him laugh during the Christmas party in 02 episode 38, it’s very much framed as probably the first time Ken has been this genuinely happy in a long while. He was never able to be this happy even when “satisfying” himself by stepping on others as the Kaiser.

And that’s why it’s so extremely unlikely that Ken will ever be able to lapse back into the Kaiser persona after the events of 02, even with the Dark Seed technically still inside his neck. He wasn’t enjoying it anyway; the Kaiser persona wasn’t a habit that he fell into out of emotional suppression or even catharsis, but rather him forcing himself into a role he was never comfortable in to begin with. He was never truly satisfied with anything he was getting out of it, and moreover, it took the combination of supernatural influence and a hell of a lot of denial to allow it to get that far in the first place, because of how far against his fundamental nature that was. (Again, for those of you who have seen Appmon: think about what it would take to get Haru to embrace sadism.) Even Osamu wasn’t enjoying being cold; being kind and living your life with positivity is a lot more fulfilling and fun, anyway.

In 02 episode 48, Ken describes the influence of the Seed as “horrible” in retrospect; even if it didn’t involve physical pain and exhaustion the way it did for the Dark Seed children, the entire experience sucked even back then. And while Ken theorizes about the Dark Seed’s influence being countered by the power of love earlier in the episode, when you look at the whole of 02, it’s not just his family’s love -- Ken now has the emotional support of his family, and Wormmon, and his newfound friends, and that’s giving him all of the fulfillment he wanted that putting on a front of sadism wasn’t giving him, and he doesn’t really need anything else anymore.

02 itself is very much about the fact that it’s not a bad thing to rely on the support of others to be happy; the Ken and Kaiser are undoubtedly the same person, but the latter’s existence requires a very specific lineup of events and factors to happen, and one of the massive parts behind that was a severe lack of emotional support or anyone who properly understood him. And by the end of the series, Ken has more than enough strength of heart to accept everything that’s happened and move on, and to stop reaching out to denial and clinging onto the past, and he has emotional support and understanding from a whole new group of friends that thoroughly understand everything he did and went through, and wholeheartedly accept and love him anyway.

He is never going to have a gaping hole in his life like that again.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #ichijouji ken #ken ichijouji #shihameta

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yetanotherhoeforpedro · 4 years ago

Text

Sinfully Armored

Chapter 4 - The spirits that haunt us

Chapter 3

TW: SMUT, canon-typical violence

Your eyes adjusted to the bright lights so slowly that you had to rely on your other senses. Apparently, you were lying on an even metal surface, judging from the cold hard material you felt underneath your – exposed back? Yes, you seemed to be naked from the waist up. As you focused on the rest of your body, you noted with surprise that the pain in your ribs had subsided. The air smelled slightly of ethanol; you definitely weren’t on Kashyyyk anymore. Shit, had you been abducted by the Empire?

Finally, your eyesight returned to you and you looked around, careful not to move your head too conspicuously, lest whoever had brought you here would notice you. You relaxed immediately as you took in the familiar view of your ship, though it didn’t lessen your irritation. How did you get back here?

You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at your ribs. The sudden movement made you feel a little dizzy, so you carefully laid back down again and peeked at your ribcage. Someone seemed to have tended to your wounds as a beige bandage was wrapped around them, still leaving your breasts exposed, and they really didn’t hurt anymore. You slowly stretched your hand out to your ribs and dug your fingers in to test your pain tolerance. Nothing. There had to be some sort of painkiller involved…How long had you been out? What about Grogu? The Wookie youngling?

You sat back up in a quick movement that your head didn’t appreciate in the least. “Careful,” a modulated voice said and your head snapped to the direction of it, resulting in another sharp headache.

But there was the Mandalorian, standing at the other end of the space. You were too stunned to react to his presence in any way. Why was he here? He should have hated you, what did he care if you were being careful or not? Fuck, how you despised yourself. You averted his glance out of pure guilt. You broke his trust, you let them take his child. You were too weak to save him, why did Luke ever send you on this mission?

“What…what happened?” you asked finally and noticed how raw your throat felt. “You passed out on the beach, so I took you back here and…,” he paused and his visor dipped down a bit, allowing him a better look at your rib. You were suddenly all too aware of your exposed breasts, but didn’t want to show your discomfort by moving to cover them up. He shook his head quickly. “So, I– I– fixed your…ribs.” You heard him swallow loudly as he brought his helmet back up to your face. “For a moment I thought– I thought I had los…”, he added, but stopped himself from saying whatever he was going to. You looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry,” he said instead.

You grew even more irritated at that. “You are sorry? I am the one who fucked up, Mando,” you replied faintly, breaking the possible eye contact with him again. “I am so sorry, it’s all my fault. If I had been quicker…,” you went on and let your voice trail off.

“None of this is your fault,” he responded firmly and took a few steps towards you. “I was…being a dick, and I am sorry for it. I– I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I know you would never have let them get him if you had had another choice, I was just – he – he’s all I have left.” Some small part of your heart broke at that confession.

“You had every right to snap at me,” you answered with conviction. “Please, don’t be so kind to me…I don’t deserve that.” You heard him tread even closer to you and this time, he didn’t stop until he was right next to you. He uttered your name softly and at that, your head turned back to him. Two leather gloves cupped your cheeks gently, forcing you to hold his stare.

“You – you deserve nothing but kindness from me,” he whispered and let one of his hands trail across your cheekbones in a featherlight touch. The simple touch sent goosebumps across your entire body. “I – I have been…awfully unkind to you,” he admitted quietly.

“What’s with the change of heart now?” you attempted to lighten the situation and relieve yourself of some of the electric current humming through you, but failed miserably. “I…when you were…on that…beach…completely motionless…” The movements of his hand stilled for a second. You knew this was as vulnerable as he would make himself, so you simply placed your hand on top of his in silent affirmation.

“Mando…I…,” you began, but he silenced you by putting his index finger on your mouth. “Stop guilting yourself,” he said intently and his other hand began to softly move across your cheek again. “We will get him back.”

“How?” you asked, your voice breaking. You could not bear his kindness anymore; it was just too much. Mando’s fingers started to gingerly run across your neck and all of your thoughts and worries left your mind for a second as you registered the movement. “After you…um...I installed a tracking fob on the imperial ship”, he explained absentmindedly. His focus seemed to be entirely on his fingers, which began to explore your collar bone. You shivered at the intimacy of the touch. His hand began to dip even lower, hovering at the swell of your heaving breasts.

“Do you want me to stop?” His words were merely a breath and you could only shake your head, as you were at a complete loss for words. He let out a relieved sigh at you giving him your consent and his hand moved a little lower until he was softly cupping your breast. You lost yourself completely in his touch and let out a soft moan. “Fuck,” he exclaimed. “Do you realize how…agonizing it has been for me to see you with your tits out all this time while I couldn’t…couldn’t touch you?” He gave your boob a little squeeze to support his words and at that, you let out a louder moan. “You can always touch me,” you admitted breathlessly and he groaned in response. He removed his other hand from yours and moved it down to cup your other breast.

Taking all the time in the world, he tested out the weight of your breasts in his hands and began to slowly knead them while the aching between your legs grew worse. “Mando…please,” you begged him.

“Now, now. I expected you Jedi to have a little more patience,” he responded while continuing to caress your tits. Fuck, he knew he was taunting you and he was enjoying it. There would be time for some payback later.

One of his leathered gloves left your breast and started to draw lazy circles across your back. As his hand moved down further only to brush across the sensitive curve of your spine, you arched into the touch of his other hand even more. He groaned softly.

Without a warning, he removed his hands from you entirely, but he held a hand up before you could bark out in protest. He deliberately removed his gloves, exposing his bare skin for the first time. His hands were beautiful, the veins standing out a bit against his skin, which was tan – despite not having seen sunlight in the Maker knows how long – and calloused. With one quick movement, Mando span you around on the makeshift bed so that your legs were dangling over the edge and you were fully facing him. You let out a surprised gasp.

His next advances seemed almost hesitant after this impulsive action. He slowly spread your legs apart with his hands and positioned himself between them. The proximity of him made your heart accelerate to an unprecedented speed. Your head dipped down almost instinctively and your throat went dry as you took in the bulge in his pants. His bare hand cupped your chin and made you look up at him again. “Let me touch you first,” he said hoarsely and you nodded, not able to deny him anything.

His fingers were unexpectedly smooth and warm as they began to explore your body again. Each of his touches made you soak your pants more and more, but he wasn’t ready to give you what you desired just yet. He reveled in every skin-to-skin touch as if he’d never get to experience it again. The gentleness of his touch when he brushed your bandages made your heart swell with affection that you quickly repressed. This was purely sexual, wasn’t it?

The Mandalorian pushed a strand of your hair back from your face, halting his worshipping of your body. “You are…absolutely gorgeous,” he said while looking you up and down, his voice betraying his vulnerability. You swallowed. Apparently, this was not merely physical. Mando made a move to touch you again, but you grabbed his arm before he could. “Look,” you inducted, “I – I can’t do this. Not – not if it’s…more than sex.”

He didn’t respond for a while, the two of you frozen in this awkward position. “Who said it was more?” he retorted finally, with such nonchalance that you thought you had imagined the gentle affection in his voice earlier. “Okay, great,” you lied. You didn’t want this to be more than a physical thing, did you? So, why were you so disappointed that he felt the same way? Didn’t that make you a hypocrite?

“Do – do you want to continue?” he broke the awkward silence that had formed between you. Yes, more than anything. But could you risk it? What if you got too attached? Never in your life had you damned your Jedi existence and your past more than in this very moment. But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t turn away from it. Being a Jedi was your life and you wouldn’t give it up for something as trivial as sex…Or would you?

“I…I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Mando said, no hint of any emotion in his voice and ended your brooding silence. When you didn’t reply, he simply picked up his gloves and left without another word.

“Fuck,” you whispered with exasperation. He would never be vulnerable with you again after you pushed him away like this. But maybe that was for the better. As your breathing returned to its normal rhythm, you started to focus on reality again. You were on a mission, Mando had mentioned a tracking fob or something? What about the Wookie? Mando hadn’t mentioned him, so you guessed he was safe? It was not like you could go to him for information now. Maker, what have you done? What had you been about to do?

Maybe it was the painkillers, you thought to yourself, though you knew it was no valid excuse.

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

Hours later you mustered up the courage to go to the cockpit. As you expected, Mando was sitting in the pilot’s seat, his helmet facing the broad windshield. He didn’t react to your appearance. “I am sorry,” you told him as you sunk down into the seat next to him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he replied mechanically, still not looking at you. “I was simply looking for a little distraction.” His words stung more than you cared to admit. “Right,” you retorted, a little too sharply to appear casual. He turned his helmet to you. “Just sex, remember?” You gritted your teeth as he used your words against you.

“Where are we heading?” you switched the topic. “I don’t know yet, they are still on the move.” The Mandalorian was pointing at the tracking fob in front of him. A small blue dot was moving across the map of the galaxy, not far from the position of your ship. “I got to hand it to the droid, he is a good pilot,” he added, pointing to Artoo, who beeped excitedly at the approval. “The best,” you corrected him, looking fondly at Luke’s R2-unit.

“What – what happened to the Wookie youngling?” you asked cautiously. “She’s safe. Her mother decided she was ready to begin her training, so I contacted Luke. He’ll send someone to pick her up and she’ll be protected by the other Jedi in the temple.” You cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “You contacted Luke?” – “Yes. We are…good friends.” There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. “I immediately called the droid to pick us up when…they left with him,” he went on. You only nodded as the guilt began to nag at you again. As if he could sense your thoughts, he said: “Stop blaming yourself, it wasn’t your fault.” You shot him a surprised glance, but only shrugged. No matter how often he’d reassure you, you were the only person who could relieve you of your tormenting thoughts and you were not ready to let yourself of the hook – definitely not before Grogu was safely back in your ship.

You spent a few minutes in silence, watching as the blue dot moved across the holographic map. “What do you think they are doing to him right now?” Mando asked into the silence of the cockpit, his voice sounding strained. “I – I don’t think they would…hurt him. They need him,” you tried to reassure him and yourself.

“If only – if only I’d gone after him myself. If I had been more…vigilant…I would have seen that you had not gotten to him. I could have saved him,” he muttered, completely ignoring your attempt to comfort him.

“Mando, no,” you breathed out as you got up and moved towards him. Carefully, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, you placed your hand on top of his. “I told…I scolded you for not trusting me. And then I failed you, you did nothing wrong. If it weren’t for you, they would probably have gotten the Wookie as well and disappeared without a trace.” He let you touch his hand, which was once again shielded by a layer of leather, and you softly started to draw soothing circles across it with your thumb. Mando didn’t reply, only tilted his helmet down to where your hands were entwined. “This is…not the first time I let the Empire take him,” he confessed in a shaky tone. “I should have let him go. He’d be better off without me.”

The audible pain in his voice was too much to bear, you were willing to do anything to make it go away. So, you damned your previous worries, let go of his hand and took a few more steps around him. As you stood directly in front of him, you got on your knees and heard the Mandalorian take in a sharp breath. “And you got him back last time, didn’t you?” you said while looking up at him. “He is damn lucky to have you in his life and I know that you – and me too for that matter – would do anything to get him back.” Your hands slid over his beskared thighs and he spread them apart out of what felt like a reflex.

“W–what are you doing?”, Mando inquired warily. “You said you wanted a distraction,” you replied innocently and dragged your hands up and down his thighs to support your words. He swallowed audibly. “But– but you –,“ he protested without any conviction. “You told me to s–stop.” His breathing turned ragged as your hands neared the now evident bulge in his pants. “Changed my mind,” you responded and licked your lips in a suggestive manner. His strong reactions to you made you quite bold. “D–don’t do t–this out of pi–pity,” he warned you. “You think I’d blow you out of pity?” you asked him incredulously. “Yes, I want to help you to get the edge off a bit – but don’t think it’s fucking charity. I want to feel you down my throat,” you admitted and saw his cock jump at the vivid image. “So, will you let me?” You leaned forward a little and brought your hands teasingly close to his manhood. “Y–yes,” was all he managed to get out while he reached for his pants.

His member sprung free and you hummed in approval at the considerable length of it. You spread Mando’s thighs further and wedged yourself between them to get a better access. He went rigid at the first contact your hand made with his shaft and you couldn’t hold back a little smug smile. He was utterly at your mercy. Your hand wrapped around his base and you gave him a few testing pulls, to which he reacted with a groan of pleasure. As you brushed your thumb over his tip, you felt the wetness of his precum and his hips thrust up into your hand. “A little more patience, Mando,” you chided him playfully, high on your sudden power trip. “You–you will regret t–this,” he promised in a husky voice which made the space between your legs pulse. “We’ll see,” you hummed and gave his length another teasing stroke. “F–fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

You decided to have some mercy on him and took a small part of him into your mouth. When you let your tongue run over his tip, his hand came down on the back of your head and tightly gripped your hair. In response, you eased him into your mouth further and he groaned raggedly. As you sucked on him, he came completely undone and thrust his hips up, forcing himself down your throat unexpectedly and making you gag. “I–I’m sorry, Jedi. Are you alright?” Mando asked you with a level of concern in his voice that almost made you regret your change of heart. You couldn’t reply verbally because he was still filling your mouth, so you simply took him in an inch deeper in response. Mando’s breathing hitched. You sucked on him again before you pulled back. Needing to recover from his sudden intrusion, you took a few breaths and continued pumping him with your hand. Mando thrust into your hand greedily.

You decided to torture him a little more and swirled your tongue across his tip again, but didn’t take him in further. He groaned in exasperation. “D–don’t b–be like t–that, Jedi.” He ran his gloved fingers through your hair while tugging your head closer again. “Y–you s–said you–you wanted me to c–cum down your–your throat,” he reminded you in uneven breaths. “Will you let me?” He untangled his hand from your hair and let his fingers trail over the sensitive skin on your throat in emphasis. “Fuck–fuck Mando…anything– anything for you,” you gasped out, completely losing your focus and surge of dominance as you felt his hand on your neck. “Good girl,” he growled out, making you moan.

You brought your lips back to his cock and let him fuck your mouth at his pace, the sound of him leaving and reentering your mouth the only sound in the otherwise quiet cockpit. You felt your own wetness increase as you sensed him growing harder and harder. “F–fuck, I’m c–close,” he exhaled and placed his hand on the back of your head again to secure you in your position as release barreled through him. You swallowed the rows upon rows of cum he spilled down your throat greedily, savoring his musky taste.

When he was spent to the last drop, he slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth and leaned back in his seat. He pulled his pants back up and you took that as your signal to leave, so you slowly got up and reactivated your sore leg muscles. You were about to go and let him be since your mission to distract him seemed to have been a success. Swiftly, his hand snapped out and grabbed your wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he challenged you in a dark voice that made your pussy throb. “Um…I–I thought you might want–um–I don’t know–privacy?” Your voice hitched embarrassingly at the last syllables. Mando let out a huff of what you could only interpret as amusement. “Privacy,” he tested the word out on his tongue. “What I want is some privacy with your cunt.” Your head snapped up to his in surprise at the sheer dominance he emitted. You swallowed, unsure how to react. “Will you not let me repay the favor?” he went on and patted his thigh in a silent invitation.

Without thinking about it, you climbed onto his lap. Your usual swagger had abandoned you completely exactly when you needed it most and Mando – that bastard – seemed to know it. He took the lead and placed your hands on his shoulders. Then he let his hands roam over your body ravenously. First, he lifted your shirt up a little and put one hand on your back to steady you while his right hand palmed one of your tits.

He let out a soft moan at the sensation. “Fuck–you f–feel so–so warm and s–soft,” he praised you under his breath. His other hand gradually dragged down your spine until he stopped at the hem of your pants. You nodded in silent encouragement and with your consent, he let it slip through the waistband. How convenient that there was no underwear in space. As he cupped your ass cheek, both of you let out a pleasured moan in unison.

He released his other hand from your breast after giving it another firm squeeze and moved it to your second butt cheek. You ground into him with a small whimper in a desperate attempt to relieve the upbuilding heat in your core and he gripped your ass harder, pushing you back a little. Mando leaned forward slightly so that his helmet rested right beside your head. “You are greedy, huh?” he whispered into your ear with a soft chuckle. “You will cum when and where I want you to, understood?” His words sent a shiver down your spine. Rapidly, one of his hands snapped up from your ass and he gripped you by the throat. “Understood?” he repeated. You nodded as much as his grip allowed you to. “Good,” he snarled.

He leaned back again and released your neck. Then he let his hand dangle in front of your mouth expectantly. Following his train of thought, you lightly bit down on the fabric of his glove, allowing him to free his hand. The other hand was still rested on your ass and pushed you up so that you were basically kneeling as his ungloved fingers traced the hem of your pants. Without any more preambles, he guided his bare fingers to your heated core. The first contact of his fingers with your wet folds made you shudder. Mando groaned in approval at your dripping wetness. “F-fuck,” he muttered as he began to draw small circles on your clit, coaxing a wanton moan from you. For a while, he continued to tease you and let his fingers roam around your pussy, his fleeting touches painfully delicate.

“M-Mando,” you huffed, “P-please.” – “I love it when you beg for me,” he all but growled in response and dipped one of his fingers into your core. You arched your back while taking in the sensation and his other hand snaked its way up its curve. His finger curled inside of you in a delicious angle and your palms dug into his armor at the marvelous feeling. You felt his eyes monitor each of your reactions to his movements as he slowly drove his finger in and out of your wetness. It was tantalizing and you tried to force him to move faster and harder by rolling your hips down. “Tsk tsk tsk,” he chided you and forcefully pushed another finger in. “Are you satisfied now, Jedi?” You simply nodded, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pumping his fingers in and out of you. His pace quickened and your eyelids fluttered shut. In this moment, the only things that existed in the entire galaxy were his fingers and the growing heat of your core. The rhythm and the technique of his movements was devastating, each thrust felt more mind-blowing than the last. His pace didn’t falter once, not even as his other hand maneuvered down your spine before greedily grabbing at your ass. You felt your walls clench down on his fingers and they curled into you again, making you moan obscenely loud.

As you reached your climax shortly after, he made you see stars and you heard Mando mumble indistinct praises under his breath. He kept his movements up until you were spent to the last drop. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out of your dripping cunt.

You slumped down onto his lap in exhaustion and buried your head in his armored chest while trying to calm your hammering heart.

A metallic sound made your head snap up, but Mando pushed it back down quickly before you could see anything. A little confused but too exhausted to fight him, you let your head fall back into its previous position. Only when you heard soft slurping sounds did you comprehend what was going on. He must have removed his helmet to taste you. The realization turned you on more than you cared to admit and you felt the wetness in your pants increase.

“You – you taste so g-good, Jedi,” Mando groaned. “I can’t wait to feast on you properly.” The statement made you swallow audibly, but you were too stunned to reply verbally. You heard him pull his helmet back on and let out a small relieved sigh, your current position was quite compromising. You pushed yourself up on your knees and pulled your pants up. After patting your ass one last time, Mando released his hold on you and you carefully climbed out of his lap.

Your legs still felt a little wobbly as you left the cockpit without another word.

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

You avoided Mando for the rest of the day, not sure how to feel about what you had done. Instead, you used the time to tend to your wounds and obsessively reorganize your supplies multiple times. After that failed to keep your mind from wandering down certain paths, you gave up. You couldn’t evade this forever, you eventually had to liberate your thoughts.

Why did you change your mind? Why were you so desperate to relieve Mando of his worries? Did you actually do it out of selflessness or did you have ulterior motives you were not willing to face? What if you wouldn’t be able to rescue Grogu from the claws of the Empire?

You quickly forgot about your stolen moments with the warrior as you considered that grim vision of the future. It was your fault that Grogu was not with you right now, of that you were absolutely certain. It didn’t matter how hard Mando had tried to ease your guilty conscience, you didn’t deserve his sympathy. You had promised to retrieve him and failed miserably. How could you have been so blind? You should have seen the detonation coming, you should have sensed it through the Force. If only you hadn’t been too fucking weak and pathetic to get up that damn tree…

You sighed deeply. If you wouldn’t get your apprentice back, you would not be able to call yourself a Jedi any longer. How would you ever face Luke again? Or Mando? Or even yourself? No, you would not be able to live with yourself if you failed again. And a part of you, a part you desperately tried to ignore, also knew that you could not live with disappointing Mando.

Fuck, when had you grown so fond of the silent warrior? You did not let your guard down this easily often, what was so different about him? You could not afford to…feel something for him, especially right now.

You had bigger issues in front of you than your past and your love life – if one could even title it as such. Still, your mind kept circling back to it and how could you tackle these new demons if you hadn’t even bested your old ones yet?

You took a deep breath and let your mind guide you to a place you had locked away for years.

The world was a cacophony of screams and blastershots. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t get yourself to tune the sounds out and concentrate. Your gaze shifted to your left where your father was crouching defensively over your sisters and then back to your mother. She looked absolutely devastating, a force to be reckoned with, her yellow lightsaber illuminating the focused lines of her sharp face. She was standing between your family and whatever was awaiting beyond the door of your home, ready to take it on without any fear for her own life. You took a deep breath and let her presence calm you. You were a warrior, just like her, and you would not be afraid. You would fight till your last breath to defend your family.

Your father called out to you again: “Get back here, now!” But you would not hide. You were no coward; you would fight alongside your mother. She turned around to you that second, the hard lines of her face softening. She uttered your name in a tender voice. “Go to your dad. Everything will be alright.” But you sensed the lie and you would not let her face the threat alone. You would not let her die to protect you. She seemed to see the resolve in your face and sighed heavily. You had always been extremely stubborn. So, she turned to your father instead. “Get them out of here.” The look they exchanged was heartbreakingly tender and hopeless, both of them knew it would be the last one they’d ever share. Your father swallowed, but nodded. There was nothing he could do to help her in battle, all he could offer was to protect their children.

He pushed your siblings into the backroom before he went to retrieve you. You struggled against his firm grip, but he didn’t let go. Wide eyed, kicking and screaming at your father to let you go and let you fight, you were pulled out of the room. You’d never forget the way your mother looked at you then. The soft curve of her lips as she tenderly smiled – smiled – at you, fully aware that she was about to die.

Your screaming turned into uncontrolled sobs as your father closed the door behind you and pulled you into a tight embrace. “Hush, hush,” he tried to calm you, his own voice trembling. You stopped resisting and buried your head into the crook of his neck, your streaming tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. You remained like this for a moment before your father detangled you from him carefully. “Listen to me,” he addressed you and your sisters. “I need you to be brave now.” He wiped a tear away from your cheek. “You need to be really really quiet. Do not make a sound.” His voice became barely a whisper. “You need to hide.”

“How is hiding a brave action?” you demanded. Your father smiled at you sadly, as if he expected no other response from you. “Bravery is not always the most reckless course of action. Your courage will do you no good if you’re dead.” You forced your tears back and nodded.

“You need to hide and do not come out, no matter what you hear,” your father went on. He gave all three of you a kiss on the head before urging you towards the hidden trap door that led to your emergency room. Your sisters climbed down first and your dad gave you one last reassuring glance before you followed them. But before he could follow you down, loud noises began to erupt from the other side of the door. You gazed up at him in horror as he shut the trap door without another word.

The lump in your throat grew worse as you climbed down the last few steps of the ladder and faced your sisters. Their faces mirrored the dread on yours and you simply hugged them. You held on to each other until the noises above you subsided, forcing your breathing to calm.

“D-do you t-think it’s o-over?” your little sister asked in a small voice. You were about to reply when you heard steps directly above you. Something knocked against the ceiling of your room.

“Sir, I think there’s a secret room underneath this one,” a muffled male voice proclaimed. Shit, you had to act quickly. You had to protect your sisters or your parents’ sacrifices would have been in vain. You knew there were weapons hidden somewhere in this room, you had to locate them quickly. Silently stepping across the room, you searched for any kind of indents in the wall. Your fingers spotted a small notch and you pressed your trembling index finger into it.

Surely enough, the wall opened and a couple of blasters and your grandfather’s lightsaber was revealed. You passed two smaller blasters to your sisters – your parents had taught all of you the basics – and grabbed the lightsaber. While it was far too big for your children’s-sized hand, it felt oddly fitting. You took a deep breath and braced yourself for the attack as the trap door slowly slid open. A man poked his head into the basement and it was the last he saw as your sister’s blaster went off and hit its target. The man’s corpse tumbled down the ladder and landed in front of you in a loud crash. You winced slightly at the sight; you had never been confronted with death like this.

However, now was not the time to consider the significance of this death, you needed to focus. You knew your sisters had your back with the blasters, so you activated your lightsaber. For just a second, you let yourself stare in awe at the marvelous green blade, but you snapped out of it quickly.

You were by far not experienced with a lightsaber; you had only practiced with your mom’s a few times. The logical course of action would have been to take a blaster as well, but somehow the weapon had called to you. Out of pure instinct, you managed to deflect the first couple of blastershots your enemies fired from above. But as the rapid fire continued, your senses began to fail you. As much as you wished otherwise, you were not one of the legendary Jedi knights, the truth was that you weren’t. And considering your current situation, you probably never would become one.

It started with you accidentally leaving an open space when a blaster hit your upper arm. You yelled out in agony and your blade dipped for a moment as you tried to regain your composure. But one moment was enough for them.

It was one of those situations that seemed to pass in slow-motion when you look back at it. You noticed the blastershot sail past you and as you whipped your head around, you saw it strike your big sister directly in her abdominal. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked down at the clean whole in her stomach and back at you before she collapsed. She would never get up again. Your younger sister’s wail pierced the terrible silence and as she looked at you, you saw nothing but burning hate in her eyes.

Another blastershot brushed your thigh, forcing you to face your attackers again. You tried to keep your posture upright but your faith left you. You were certain you would die in this room. Not that you deserved anything else, you had let your sister die. If only you had received proper training. If you had been a full Jedi, you could have saved them. Your mother, your father, your sister…all of them. And because of your incompetence, your younger sister would perish with you.

She didn’t deserve to die. You had to protect her. If it hadn’t been for her, you might have let them finish you, but you owed more to her. You let your love for her guide you and mustered up the strength and focus to deflect shot after shot again.

You had found a rhythm in meeting the blasts with your weapon when suddenly, a figure jumped down and landed directly in front of you, next to the corpse. You staggered back in surprise. Whatever was before you was definitely not human. And while that was not unusual in the galaxy, the thing before you seemed disturbingly mechanic and menacing. All you saw in the dim light were its glowing red eyes. You took another step back, trying to move yourself between it and your sister. In a desperate attempt to scare the thing off, you swung your lightsaber out. In its glow, you saw your attacker more clearly.

It was a droid, but not the sort that usually helped out at your farm. This one looked too human to be fully machine, yet not alive enough to pass as human. You shuddered. The thing didn’t cease its movements, seemingly unbothered by your weapon. You swung out at it helplessly. The blaster of your sister was useless as it would probably have hit you instead of the aggressor. Faster than your eyes could detect, the droid attacked and disarmed you. You were too stunned to react in any way, the creature kept advancing as you simply stood there and stared at it. Somewhere distant, you could hear your sister scream your name over and over again, but your mind was elsewhere. You were one with the Force and braced yourself for the fatal blow. At least you’d be reunited with your family soon.

“Bring them up here,” a dark voice commanded from above and the droid jerked to a stop. A second one jumped down as the first one grabbed your wrist. Its metal fingers dug into the sensitive skin and you bit back the sharp pain. As you were being pulled back towards the trap door, too disheartened to resist, you heard a few blastershots go off as your sister tried to ward the droid off. The shots went silent quickly though.

It was pure muscle memory that made you climb up the ladder the thing pushed you on and soon enough, you were exposed to the bright sunlight flooding the room again. The droid grabbed your wrists from behind and forced you to stand still. You took in your surroundings with a concerning apathy. You had no idea why they let you live or how much time you had left. There were two men standing in the room, one in clone armor and the other one in black fighting gear. Your eyes roamed on, but you averted your glance from the motionless figure on the ground quickly.

“You fought bravely,” the man in black started. “So did your sisters.” You flinched at that and stared back at the trap door. Neither your sister not the droid had emerged again. “But you don’t have to die today,” he went on, his eyes narrowing as he focused them on you. There was something immensely unnerving in them, but you would not give him the satisfaction of breaking the eye contact.

“While my order was to kill all of the Jedi, I don’t think you’d count as one.” You could feel the rage burning up inside of you. “If you only had to kill Jedi, why did you murder my father and sisters?” you spat. He had the audacity to smile at you. “Now, now. Let bygones be bygones. Your father and sisters were of no use to me.” His grin widened. “One of you is more than enough. The Grand Admiral will be pleased with me.” You didn’t react to his words. What did you care what they did to you? They already killed those most dear to you, they could not hurt you anymore.

“You will be of great value to the Empire,” his monologue continued. “Thrawn has enormous plans for you. You will ensure our ultimate victory.” You had no idea what he was talking about, neither did you care. The man sank down on one knee in front of you and grabbed your chin. “Do you realize what an honor is bestowed upon you?” You spat in his face and he let you go, wiping it off his face with a disgusted expression. “I’m looking forward to teaching you obedience.”

But he never did get to give you his lesson. A shot went off and hit him directly in the chest. He was dead before he could draw another breath and the clone fell shortly after. You were still fixated by the droid, so you could not turn around to the source of the blastershots until he fell victim to them as well.

You spun around in astonishment to see your little sister with her blaster in hand, her chest heaving from the agitation. You exclaimed her name in wonder. How had she managed to fight off the droid? Once again, you were frozen in place. Your sister’s stare bore something venomous.

“You – you let them kill her!” she yelled at you furiously. “How could you?” It was all you could do to hold her glare. She was right, your sister’s death was your fault. “I…I,” you stammered. “I tried…but I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” You swallowed heavily. “You were willing to let me die as well. You didn’t even fight the droid,” she went on, tears welling in her eyes. “Alya,” you pleaded with her. “I…I tried…I did…but I…” Her stare remained relentless. “You are a disgrace,” she spat at you. “You always pretend like you’re brave and want to be a Jedi but…you will never be like mom. Never.” She picked the words she knew would sting the most.

“Alya…,” you began anew. “I…I’m sorry. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t have saved me. I deserved death.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly at your admission. “We need to get out of here,” was all she said. You nodded slowly and helped her pack some supplies, any food reserves, clothes and medical kits you could find. You covered your parents with cloths. It was all you could do, there was no time for proper funeral rites, but it felt wrong to leave them like this.

When you climbed back down into the basement to honor the sister you had failed, your gaze fell on the lightsaber. You would need weapons and while the lightsaber had kind of turned into a symbol of your incompetence, you could not stomach to leave it behind.

“I am so sorry.” You sank down next to your older sister and tentatively ran your fingers through her dark hair. You knew you could not linger, so you softly closed her unseeing eyes, said a quick prayer and left the room behind after packing a few more blasters.

Shortly after, you and your sister left your farm and small hometown behind with few credits and no idea where to go next.

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

You opened your eyes, shocked to find yourself back in your ship. Your connection to the Force allowed you to relive memories in far more detail than those with fewer mediclorians in their bloodstream. Though you doubted you could have forgotten anything about that fateful day either way.

You had thought you were ready to finally face it, but obviously weren’t. With a deep sigh, you stood up. You doubted you’d ever be ready; it’s been over 20 years since your family had been butchered and their dead faces still haunted your nightmares. But there was a lot of unresolved trauma in your past and you had to start somewhere.

“Do you – are you hungry?” Mando appeared in the doorframe, putting an end to your flashbacks. You could only stare at him for a moment. The lights of the hallway illuminated his broad figure brilliantly. He was so beautiful in his armor; you could only imagine what a sight he must be without it. You forced these thoughts back, though you weren’t sure if suppressing them would be an effective technique for much longer. There was no going back anymore, not after what had conspired in the cockpit earlier. You swallowed nervously. Why were you nervous? What was wrong with you? Shit, he had asked you something, hadn’t he?

“Dinner?” he asked in a slightly confused tone. You cleared your throat. “Um…sure.” “Are – are you alright?” he inquired. “Never been better,” you tried to feign nonchalance. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. “So, dinner?” you reminded him and he nodded before turning around. You followed him out of the room to your food stocks, grateful that he didn’t press on.

“Not to overstep the line, but how do you even eat?” you asked carefully while Mando was going through your supplies.

He barked out a quick laugh. “Do you think I eat with my mask on?” He turned around to you and cocked his head. “Um…I – I don’t know,” you stammered and felt your cheeks flush. Dammit, what was wrong with you?

“I can take it off as long as it’s not in front of another person,” Mando explained. “How long has it been since someone else…saw you?” You eyed him curiously. “I guess…it…it must have been well over two…decades.” You gaped at his admission. “Two decades?!” The Mandalorian shrugged and proceeded to pick out your dinner. Wordlessly, he handed you some bread and conserves.

“Two decades,” you repeated in astonishment. “What did you expect?” Mando snapped at you. “Did you think me to be without honor? Did you think I would have abandoned The Way?” You blinked twice, taken aback by his sudden outburst. “I…No, but…I can’t imagine what that must be like. How lone – “Not wanting to offend him, you cut yourself off. “It’s all I know,” he replied dryly, but the venom had left his voice.

“So, dinner…” You looked at the sparse food in your hands and placed it on a small counter top. “Dinner,” he echoed. “How do we…should I leave you alone?” – “You can stay,” he responded quickly to your astonishment. “H-how?” You were genuinely confused at this point. “You don’t rely on your eyesight too much with that power you use, do you?” he questioned. “N-not too much, no,” you answered cautiously, unsure if this was going where you thought it was.

Mando pulled a cloth band out of his belt. “Um…do you always keep that there?” You gulped as he took a step towards you. “Mando, what are you doing?” He came closer. “Mando…I – “ The words died on your tongue as he stepped around you.

“May I?” he inquired as his free hand brushed over your cheekbone. You nodded and his other hand came around to tie the band over your eyes. He gave the knot a testing pull. “Is it too tight?” His fingers trailed over your neck tentatively. “N-no,” you breathed out, still getting accustomed to the sudden deprivation of your sight.

Mando removed his hands from you and you heard him taking a couple of steps away before he lifted his helmet off of his head. While you were blindfolded, you were certain he was studying you shamelessly. Neither of you said anything and the longer the silence lasted, the more tangible the tension became. The quiet was interrupted by the loud grumbling of your stomach which mercifully snapped the growing electricity.

Not able to ignore your appetite anymore, you used the Force to locate your food and picked it up again. You took a greedy bite of the bread. The loaf was surprisingly soft and you devoured it ravenously. Once your immediate hunger was sated, you paused. “Aren’t you gonna eat something as well?” you addressed your fellow traveler. He didn’t respond, but instead you perceived a munching sound shortly after. The two of you finished the meal in companiable silence.

Once you felt utterly stuffed, you asked Mando whether you could take the blindfold off again. While he didn’t reply, you sensed him approaching you. “Do you really want to take it off?” he breathed into your ear. “W-what?” you stammered, dumbfounded by the warmth of his breath and his unexpected proximity.

“Just consider the…advantages…of keeping it on.” Maker, his voice was beautiful, especially without getting warped by the helmet. “Um…” You had absolutely no idea what to say to that. “I guess I’ll have to demonstrate it to you.” Sans warning, his lips were on your neck, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He trailed small kisses across the side of it before reaching your throat. He placed a soft kiss on it as well before moving on and getting less tender. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin and you shuddered. Being robbed of your sight made the sensation even more powerful. He began to suck at the spot lightly and your mind went blank. The feeling was absolutely divine.

“Holy shit, Mando,” you murmured. You felt him smile against your skin before he sucked harder, earning a soft moan from you. He removed his lips from you for a moment. “You look good like this.” His lips were on yours a second later and you kissed him back out of pure instinct sooner than you realized what was happening. You were amazed by the softness of his lips and as your tongue explored them, you noticed how perfectly they were curved. Mando placed both hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. One of his hands snaked up to your neck to secure you in place. Not that you could even think about breaking the kiss...

The movements of Mando’s mouth grew ravenous as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter. You let yourself get lost in him completely, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing your bodies even closer together, and once again damned the consequences. Sure, your past would eventually catch up with you, but those worries couldn’t be farther from you than they were in this moment. You never knew that kissing could be this mind-expanding, it was like you were getting high off of the taste of him.

After what seemed like an eternity or just a split-second, you weren’t entirely sure, Mando broke the kiss. You heard his heavy breathing as he let forehead lean against yours. Not that your own circulation was much better, only now did you notice the rapid hammering of your heart.

“That was…,” Mando huffed out. “Intense?” you suggested and he chuckled weakly. “I suppose you could say that.” His thumb caressed the back of your neck tenderly. “You – you were right…sometimes the helmet is quite restricting.” You couldn’t hold the grin that spread across your face back and imagined how breathtaking his smile must be. The thought turned bittersweet as you realized you’d probably never get to see his face. Maybe it was for the better…It was far easier to keep the proper emotional distance as long he stayed in his armor…

You lowkey knew you were fooling yourself, but you so desperately wanted to believe that this – whatever this was – was purely physical that you didn’t call yourself out.

“I could show you the other advantages now,” Mando implied as he let his fingers run over the hem of your pants suggestively. You felt yourself getting wet at the mere insinuation. “If you want to, of course,” he added hastily, making your heart expand ever so slightly in your ribcage.

“You’re really horny, huh?” you retorted. “You’re one to talk.” His hand slapped your as teasingly. “I bet you’re already soaking down there just from the idea of it,” he whispered and you could hear the smug grin forming on his face. His hand slipped through the waistband of your pants and cupped your throbbing pussy from behind. “Fuck;” he groaned. “You are.” He pulled his hand out of your pants again and you felt the slick trail it left in its wake.

“What do you want, Cyar’ika?” he inquired huskily. “My hand, my head or my cock?” You swallowed loudly at his proposal. “Fuck, Mando,” you breathed out. “Your cock.” At this point, you were beyond banter and all you wanted was for him to help the growing ache between your thighs. He moaned at your response.

Without another word, he pulled your pants down before you perceived him taking – or rather ripping – his own pants off. Once more, his mouth found yours and greedily tasted you. You grabbed for him and pulled yourself closer by his arms. Through the proximity, you could feel his hardness press up against your stomach. He ground out a soft curse before removing his lips from yours.

“You’re sure you want this?” His voice sounded breathless, yet incredibly soft. “Yes,” you assured him and he put his hands on your hips to steady you. Your blood began to pulse through your veins as you anticipated his next move.

You felt him shifting a little so that his cock was placed at your slick entrance. The first contact with him made you throb more violently. You needed him inside you more than you had ever needed anything, but fortunately, you didn’t have to beg for him.

He thrust his hips up slowly, letting get accustomed to the sensation. A wanton moan escaped your throat at how deliciously he filled you and he remained inside for a moment before pulling his length back out. After a few more agonizingly slow thrusts, you cried out: “Faster.” Mando gladly obliged and his pace quickened. With each intrusion, he somehow got a little deeper and hit a different sensitive spot which drove you absolutely crazy. In an attempt to keep in touch with reality, you grabbed his shoulders and hung onto them for dear life as he pounded into you relentlessly.

Involuntarily, you shifted a little, but that was enough. The small change of position and angle made his thrusts all the more devastating. Suddenly, he was hammering straight into your G-spot and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he kept going like this. “Mando,” you moaned. “I’m – fuck – so close.” You threw your head back as his grip on your waist tightened. “Good,” he exhaled and increased his velocity. You heard yourself cry out his name in response. He captured your mouth with his and you felt your release building up further. As if all of that wasn’t enough, one of his hands slipped between your conjoined bodies and started to stimulate your clit. An obscenely loud moan escaped your throat.

Your body couldn’t handle this anymore and you came so hard that you saw stars. His pace didn’t falter as he rode you through it and had you sobbing his name. Even once you were spent to the last drop, he didn’t slow down. If anything, he pounded into your hole with a new energy. You felt yourself tightening around him again as he stimulated the area that was still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, you look so good like this.” His praise was almost lost in a wail of you. “Your pussy is – so – so – tight. Fits me so well.” He accentuated his words with his shoves. One of your hands gripped his hair and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. Even in your delirious state, you appreciated the silky texture of his hair as you let your fingers run through it. His hand left your clit and moved to your butt cheek to give it a firm squeeze. Your kisses grew feverously while he continued to utterly wreck you with his dick. Gasping for air, you pulled back for a second. Your companion, on the other hand, didn’t seem to need oxygen as badly as you did though since he immediately began to nibble on your jaw. His tongue flicked against the skin and he proceeded to voraciously kiss his way down your neck.

When his mouth reached the lowest part of it, he started to suck on it hardly, coaxing a gasp from you. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge for the second time at the combination of him pounding into you and bruising your sensitive skin. Your grip on his hair tightened as your walls constricted around his cock. Mando groaned loudly as his mouth left your neck before moving on to the next patch of skin.

Your orgasm washed through you with even more force than the first one and you were in pieces by the end of it. Sweat tickled down your forehead and seeped through the blindfold, wetting your brows. Mando removed his mouth from your neck and to your lips again as you were trying to regain your composure. You barely even registered the abrupt hitch of his hips as he himself was driven over the edge. His kissed turned wild and he bit down on your lip as release barreled through him. The coppery taste of your blood mixed in your mouths as he thrust into you a few more times until he was completely spent.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned out as he detached his mouth from yours. Neither of you moved for a while, both of you still recovering. Finally, he pulled his cock out of your leaking pussy and gave your ass one last soft slap before letting go of you completely. Your hands remained tangled in his hair and on his shoulders.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure what would happen if you let go of him. You didn’t trust your legs to support you enough in your current state. Mando seemed to realize it because suddenly, you weren’t on the ground anymore as he picked you up and softly put you down on the floor. You felt him removing your hands from him before he took a few steps back. Too exhausted to really question what was happening, you just slumped down further.

You heard him move towards you again and before you knew it, tender hands removed the blindfold from your eyes. You blinked rapidly at the sudden overstimulation of your nerves and once you could kind of see clearly, you noticed the Mandalorian kneeling next to you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his raspy voice modulated again. You cleared your throat before answering. “For what?” – “For the distraction.” Without another word, he stood up and left.

His words took a few seconds to register in your brain, but once they did, you felt wrecked for entirely less pleasant reasons than a moment prior. Distraction? Was that what that had been? Why were you feeling…disappointed? Sad? Hurt? About it...? You wanted nothing more than a physical conjoining and that was what he delivered. Still…Something about it stung deeply. You tried to shake the odd feeling off, but to no avail. Somehow, it lingered and only secured its spot in your heart the more time passed.

Chapter 5

Masterlist

#din djarin/reader #din dijarin x reader #smut #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian #fanfic #Din kind of talking like an elderly Victorian gentleman #what am i even doing

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