#does it look like his normal helmet but with less black? yes

[ildiavoloro55o]

HOME GP SPECIAL HELMET ✨

The helmet goes so well with suit!!! The red and yellow of helmet matching the red and yellow of the suit!!

[nightmarefuele]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?  Ren smells of bleak, ancient, betimes aphotic things; he smells of dense, static charges before a storm, the ozone and atmosphere; when near, he occasionally carries copper, and iodine, or musk, and upturned soil under midnight rain; there is always something vaguely soporfic to his scent, vital and throbbing. Kylo carries the copper and the ozone, but they're sharper, untempered, untamed. He provokes the senses more than the later Ren might prefer to artfully subdue them. Ben smells more of the vanillic pages in leather books, and candle smoke; the apricot-and-pine duotones of osmanthus, of open, brisk air.

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE?  Leather. (If you get Ben/Kylo variant (by the time he's the fully-realized 'Ren', he doesn't take off his gloves) hands, the palms and fingers are callused; sometimes scarred.)

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?  What is food? (Ben was brought up on Chandrila, and therefore would've been accustomed to Chandrilan cuisine—particularly the kind reserved for wealthy politicians and/or royalty. I suppose he would be a meat eater, and he probably likes seafood. I don't know why. Maybe he's partial to cheese boards. Kylo eats whatever's around, if/when he thinks of it. Ren doesn't eat.)

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?  Sure. Ben has a lovely singing voice. (Kylo is out of practice; Ren is way out of practice. His vocoder whirs nicely, though.)

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS? Ren is better at maintaining composure than his priors. If he begins to pace, physically oscillate/posture, deepen his steps, you've probably made a mistake. It's okay, though. He won't leave you guessing. If he's angry, Kylo will roll his shoulders, posture, his fingers will spasm; his & Ren's emotions primarily show through physicality, as he's, naturally, a very physical entity. But if he's nervous, upset, or afraid, he's more likely to go physically blank. If the mask is off, you'll see that reflected in his face — meaning, you'll see nothing. (His eyes are his biggest tell, but only if one knows how to read them.) If he's seated, the tendons in his arms may flex more prominently to account for the lack of motion. He rarely bounces his legs. (Yes, he does, on occasion, run his fingers through his hair. You're welcome.) ((It's more a 'raking' motion. He doesn't care about his hair as much as you think he does. He's just naturally blessed like that.)) Ben has more ticks, each of which are (usually) less angry, and his face is slightly more readable; the tells come through in his jaw and his lips, the tip of his nose/his nostrils. Fingers-through-hair thing again, just less frantically. (Although, he's the most likely to get 'frantic'/outwardly overwhelmed out of the bunch. In which case he'd cup/rub his face, lock his jaw, et al.)

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR? ...Black. (Ben opts for minimal, rich garments, but they're usually dark. Of the blue, purple, or otherwise muted variety.)

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW SO? Yes. If violence counts. (Where Ren is concerned, that is very much not a joke. @kylo-wrecked and I are both in agreement that he likes bumping heads/helmets, too.) ((He's more inclined to watch objects of his 'desire' from afar, rather than engage.)) Kylo may appreciate the occasional, ambiguous finger touch. Or he'll just stare. Watch people sleep. Pick them up and cradle carry them. Totally average, everyday, normal things. He goes to therapy. Promise. (A serious answer: If he's inclined to initiate/engage in touch, he's more likely to find inconspicuous reasons to do so. He's (generally, but certainly not always) less likely to initiate anything unless provoked into doing. Remember, kids: He responds well to anger.) Ben is still repressed, stressed, in the middle of being traumatized, etc; he's more likely to be affectionate but, once again, it takes a little doing. Especially when he means it. With feeling.

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN?  Ren doesn't. Or does unwillingly. Kylo is a less severe version of this; he sleeps when excessively tired, and for whatever reason, I imagine him assuming somewhat of a fetal position; he twitches, shivers. He doesn't favor dreams. (He learns to, as time wears on — in some iterations, he stops dreaming altogether. He sinks.) Ben is probably the most 'normal' sleeper of the three, but exact position can range anywhere from limbs askew to coffin-straight. As he finds himself dissociating from his environment/its people, he'll start moving toward fetal. 

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM? Yes. (Unless he doesn't want you to.) ((Kylo is the version most prone to losing sight(?) of the sound(??) he makes.)) (((Anyway. The full-bodied clip of rich soles is a beautiful thing.)))

tagged by: @petitsdieu, the one and only.

tagging (under no obligation): @brooklynislandgirl, @valkxrie, @etoilebleu, @kylo-wrecked, @swede, @renkniighted, @mayxthexforce, @walkeddeath, @pohlepen, @acharnemcnt, @grace-of-gotham, @cxcasiris, @haiiling, @popularmxnster, @chromium-siren, @iniqutous

[no-droids]

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec​

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

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

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

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.  

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

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

But you do want to look.  Sort of.

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

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

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

“What’s your last name?”  (“Djarin.”)

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

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

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

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

And so forth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows you, too.  He told you so.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then… well.  Bounty hunter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

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

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

… hit the target.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could I… come with you this time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That… makes you pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oof, what a fucking question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re lost now.  “…Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

***

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

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

“Oh…”  You blink, surprised.  “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

Is… he for real?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Entirely accurate and entirely fair.  “Good.”

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

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

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

You nearly jerk back.  “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pascalpanic]

request please? lately i have been having a lot abandonment anxiety when it comes to friendships and i was wondering how you think javi or din might help someone with an anxious attachment style? thank you lovely 🥰

Irrational (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: above ^^

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language; talk of fighting and weapons, reader has a panic attack PLEASE be aware that it’s coming and somewhat descriptive.

A/N: I really really love this! I hope you guys do too :) as always, thanks to my beta reading babes!

Din Djarin has been abandoned before. Often on a mission, sometimes on a lone planet with no credits or ways out. He always survives, of course, and vengeance is taken. One thing he absolutely can’t fathom is abandoning someone he loves, or more specifically someone who loves him.

Abandonment isn’t an issue when you’ve never had someone to be attached to. Din spent many many years with absolutely no one. When his parents died, it felt like he was abandoned, sure, but it was clearly not their decision to leave him. When he was taken in by the Mandalorians, they kept him at an arm’s length. He was a foundling; they cared for him well, taught him The Way and The Creed, fed him well. But he was never adopted into a specific clan, rather passed around the covert like the communal task each family had an obligation to fulfill.

Then he became a bounty hunter. The life was solitary and lonely, cold and bleak. It was rare that Din would team up with other bounty hunters, really only when forced to. The Razor Crest became his baby, his only possession and love besides his blasters and beskar. The thing was a piece of bantha shit, but he kept it in good shape.

Then came the kid. Din knew it was wrong. Bounties are to be turned in and paid for, then you forget the job happened. But when that little green thing stared up at Din, the big brown eyes seeming to stare through the dark black of his visor, he knew he couldn’t. This was a child, a baby with no family and no way to protect itself. He certainly couldn’t turn it over to the hands of the ex-Imperials.

Din experienced his first real attachment with the child. He cares for that little thing more than he’s ever cared about anything. He’d cross galaxies, kill and maim and injure for the sake of the little green baby.

Oh Maker, then he met you.

Din had never seen anything like you. You were playing with the kids in the marketplace, laughing as they ran and played around you, before you squealed in delight at the sight of a little green toddler wandering up to you. He’d climbed in your lap, looked up at you with those big eyes, massive ears twitching. You’d stroked his head and cooed to him before you looked up to find his father; subsequently, you felt your heart fall into your stomach at the sight of the Mandalorian man.

“You’re good with kids.”

Well no shit. You nodded. “Yes. I love them. Is this your son?” you ask, looking back down at the three green fingers wrapped around your thumb.

He nods. “He is a foundling under my care.” He watched as the baby grabbed at the golden armband encircling your bicep. You’re absolutely gorgeous. The armband glows against your skin, your beautiful body evident even through the loose and flowing clothing you wear. “Do you take care of these children as a job?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t have jobs here, necessarily. They just wanted me to play.” You scanned the man, searching for skin. You found none. “Are you green under there too?”

The Mandalorian did not answer. “I’m looking for a caretaker for the child while I hunt bounties. You’d stay in my ship and care for him. I pay well and you’d get to travel the galaxy.”

“You barely know me,” you laughed, removing the little green baby’s fingers from their tight grip on the gold band on your arm.

He gave a half shrug. “He likes you.”

And you’d agreed. And it’s been almost a full cycle now, a cycle of living in the beat-up ship and caring for the little green baby. You’ve seen the most beautiful and the ugliest of planets, experienced extreme heat and extreme cold. You’ve been to beautiful cities, unique jungles and forests and ice planets.

In that time, you got to know the Mandalorian too. It took quite some time to crack his beskar shell. He hardly talked to you in the first month. Then your persistence had loosened him a little, then a little more, then just enough. You know more of him than any other living being does. He’s told you his name: Din Djarin, a name that flows and stops and radiates the power of the bounty hunter. He told you the story of his childhood, of hunts gone wrong and hunts gone right.

You love listening as he tells you and the child the story of the child’s rescue from the ex-Imperials. The baby snuggles against your lap as his father regales the two of you with the epic battles, the fights Din went through for this little child. You both applaud at the end, and put the baby to bed with a kiss between those big brown eyes.

He’s a wonderful man. You’ve formed an easy friendship with him, one that has honestly progressed on your end. At night, you find yourself fantasizing about what he looks like beneath his armor, how the muscles of his broad shoulders move when he climbs the ladder to the cockpit or lifts the child. You like to think he may feel the same for you, but you don’t push it. You don’t want to push him away.

Din has been away for far too long. He always highballs the dates he gives you, saying that an assignment will take three days when he knows it will only take two or a week when it will only be five days. This is a pattern you’ve come to notice; Din is alway back “early”, but now he is late. Really late.

Before he left, Din had opened your bunk compartment, causing you to groan at the light filtering in. You’ve been sleeping since the Crest made a rocky landing on Nevarro a few hours earlier. “Cyare,” he’d murmured, a rare ungloved hand warm on your bare arm, contact broken by your metal armband. You don’t know what the word means. You hope it’s something good.

“What is it?” You groaned, rolling onto your back to look at him. “Leaving?”

He nodded, the silhouette of his helmet-covered head against the soft light of the hull. “Leaving. I’ll be back in four days at the most.”

You offered him a sleepy smile, one that he could see in the warm glow of the lights you’d installed in the ship to navigate easier at night. “Good luck. May the Force be with you,” you teased, making the normally stoic man chuckle a little.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t protest, rolling over and letting the heaviness of sleep drag you back under.

Now, you really wish you’d have talked with him more then. You’re almost certain you’ll never see him again.

You’re not exactly sure what it was in your brain that triggered the thought. Maybe Din just actually took the amount of time he’d said for once, you thought on the fourth day. But now it’s been eight days, double the amount that he’d told you he’d be gone, and you’re stressed.

He always makes good on his word. He should be back by now. He always does. Did he get injured or killed, maybe captured by the bounty he was stalking? You ponder your ideas aloud as you pace back and forth in the hull of the Razor Crest, the little green baby tucked in his soundproof pram to sleep.

There’s likely a rational explanation. You’re sure there is. Maybe the bounty jumped ship, completely threw Din off of his tracks. Maybe the bounty is more clever than anticipated and Din is working extra just to find them. There’s surely a reason, but a little nagging voice in your head says that something is wrong.

In the first few days following Din’s date to return, your primary worry is that he’s hurt or dead somewhere on this barren planet. There are many other bounty hunters here, in this haven for Guild workers. What if one of them discovered Din still has the baby? What if they were coming for you here next?

Maybe you should go look for him. Maybe he’s injured and needs your help. He could be held by another hunter, or by the ex-Imperials- you can’t even bear to think of them harming Din for taking their precious cargo back. The thought makes you squeeze the little green baby tighter to your chest, even after he gives a whine of annoyance at the pressure.

But Din would never forgive you if you put yourself in harm’s way for him. This planet is dangerous, full of bad people who will do what it takes to get their credits. Most importantly, you can’t leave this ship with the kid. Certainly people here are looking for him. Someone would spot him and you’d be in for disaster. The anxiety fills your days and even seeps into your dreams, making you sleep less and more fitfully. On the eighth day, perhaps the most terrifying idea strikes you: what if Din just... left you?

Of course, there are plenty of signs why he hasn’t. The ship is one of his rare material possessions. He’d never give up the machine that’s been a home to him for the last however many years. Weapons are part of his religion, and he only took a sparse amount with him for this hunt. His prized pulse rifle still hangs in his armory, with an abundance of whistling birds he didn’t take either.

Most importantly, you’re still here with the kid. The baby is practically Din’s son. He adores him… but what if it’s all too much? You’ve become like a little family. That may be too domestic for him. Maybe he’s sick of the responsibility, of caring for two beings when so much of his life has been solitary. Even worse, maybe he’s just sick of you.

There are plenty of rational explanations. You know it. The baby can sense your anxiety, can feel the tension running through the air surrounding you, and he feels it too. He’s fussy, requiring more snacks and more attention. He tugs far too much on your armband and it pinches now, his little claws getting too long. You don’t mind- it’s a distraction, really- but your mind is never fully on feeding the baby, rather hyper analyzing Din’s mind as you know it and hoping he’ll return.

The hours pass. Din doesn’t return. You become more and more certain that he’s abandoned you for good. He isn’t coming back, ever, because he hates you. He was nice to you as a courtesy, nothing more, only as a protector of his child. This type of family is too much for the lone-wolf style man. He can’t do it anymore. You’re on your own.

In your head, the thought of him abandoning you is too much. It weighs heavily on your self-esteem, convincing you that this is all your fault and you’ve done too much, or not enough, or something wrong in general that sent Din packing and gone. He did it because you’re annoying, because he’s sick of you.

Rational thoughts are pushed to the furthest corner of your mind. Your brain is occupied by self hatred, by terror, by a sickening buzzing feeling in your head and chest that feels like a parasite eating you from the inside out.

It’s too much. You fall to the floor, sliding your back down the metal wall. Your rear contacts the floor as the tears fall from your face, your emotions drowning out your senses. You can’t use any of your senses, just think and process the agony your brain is putting you through.

Burying your face in your hands, you finally allow the tears you’ve been holding in all week to flow. It’s a relief, the hot tears streaming down your equally hot face, blood rushing to the surface. The anxiety buzzing in your head has reached a breaking point; you’re sure the tension is boiling your brains, making it bubble and roil as the thoughts pull you down and down so far you feel you’ve fallen through the floor of the Crest and into the dry Nevarro dirt.

You nearly wail, wheezing in air only to expel it in harsh sobs as the fear wraps your body and constricts it. You’re enveloped by it, trapped in a coffin mixed with a tornado mixed with a firestorm and a hurricane.

Then it all stops. The heat is broken by something cold- beskar. You force your eyes to see and they finally perceive that Din is in front of you. Then you feel again, feel the chilled metal all over your skin as he wraps his arms around you. You smell him, his faded soap from whenever he bathed last, his sweat and the smell of the Nevarro dust. You can taste your salty tears. The last sense to come back puts you most at ease: his voice. “Talk to me, please,” Din asks of you.

You nod and try to speak, but you’re still gasping for air, your lungs unable to fill. When you slow down and make yourself breathe, you’re finally able to manage words. “Thought you were gone forever. Thought you left because of me.”

The beskar helmet tilts to the side, taking you in. You’re sure you’re a mess; eyes bloodshot, face tearstained, snot probably all over you as well. Din’s quiet for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

“You said four days. You always come back early, but you were gone for eight days.”

His chest rises and falls slowly beneath the beskar plate. “I know. I’m sorry. But why would you think I’d leave you?”

The tears return. “I don’t know, Din, I-”

“No, shh,” Din murmurs and wipes your face. “No more tears. I’m here.”

Din stands and takes you with him, his arms wrapped tight around your body to bring you to your feet. He walks you to the edge of the bunk and hands you a canteen of water to drink. You look at him and he looks back. There’s a silence and an unspoken battle between the two of you over who will break it.

Din breaks first. “I got the bounty easily. I was late because of… something else.”

Your face falls into a frown. “You took double the amount of time and didn’t tell me? Whatever this ‘something else’ is, it better be worth it.”

Din breathes in and out deeply before producing a soft fabric bag. “I didn’t leave you. I’m back. And… I got you something to show that I’ll never leave you.”

From the bag, his leather-covered hand produces something silver. Your eyes, blurry with tears, take a moment to perceive it: an armband of some silver material- oh, it’s beskar. It’s cold to the touch but you take it from him to admire it and find it is emblazoned with an insignia: a mudhorn. “The symbol of Clan Djarin,” he says gently, though he’s sure you know. It’s on his pauldron. It’s on the baby’s necklace. “We… are a family, aren’t we?”

You don’t respond; rather, you throw your arms around his neck and the tears return, but happily. “We are,” you whimper, your throat constricted by a sob. You cry into his neck, staining the fabric of his cowl and cape with your tears.

He understands they’re good tears, and so he lets them flow. His arms wrap around you and rest on your back, gently rubbing it as you cry into him. As the sobs calm, the tears end, you remain in his arms. Din holds you tight against his chest. “I’ve never made a better decision than hiring you. It was supposed to just be a babysitting job, but… I fell in love.”

Your heart stops and you pull back. “You’re in love? With me?”

Din nods. “I… yes. I am.”

A smile crosses your face, the joy emphasized by how wide your smile is in the presence of your tears. “I love you too,” you manage before your throat squeezes off your words, making you cry happily and hug him yet again.

With your face buried in his neck, you nuzzle your face in and are rewarded with a soft patch of stubbled skin beneath the tip of your nose. You can feel his throat vibrate when he speaks again. “We are a clan of three now. I promise you, I will never leave you. Don’t even entertain the thought again. Understand?”

You nod, not wanting to move your face and lose contact with this intimate spot of him, the first humanness you’ve been able to get beneath the beskar. You kiss the skin there softly. Din knows it’s your answer: understood. I love you.

-

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[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[lesbobiwan]

Would you consider [70] with commander fox and senator!reader? Any gender/pronouns are fine! Thank you!

YES PLEASE THIS ONE! god tier pic anon thank u so much

#70: "It's too bad the others are watching, or I'd be on my knees with your dick in my mouth." + Fox

Your elaborate dress is itchy.

Well, no. Not really.

The dress is too expensive to be itchy. Rather, it's the lace underneath your dress that refuses to be ignored. It's not scratchy so much as tempting.

With every shift of your body, you're reminded — as if you ever forgot — about the dark red lingerie wrapped around your body.

Your gaze flits to the commander standing at a perfect parade rest across from the room.

His helmet is trained straight ahead, conveniently where you sit at the table full of Senators. His head dips, unnoticeable to anyone not watching.

Not you. You find that you're always watching Commander Fox.

You enjoy these Senatorial meetings — not a full convening of the Senate, thank the Maker, but close enough — about as much as Fox does, which is to say not at all.

So it goes without saying that you are in desperate need to spice things up.

You start innocently.

The way the Senators are seated ensures that Fox has a direct line of sight to you and you intend to use that to your full advantage.

You uncross your legs.

Fox tilts his head just barely.

One of your hands strays beneath that table, the perfect picture of subtlety, and you pull at the high slit in your dress until your garter belt is bared for Fox's eyes.

His hands clench at his sides.

You can almost picture the way his eyebrow is raised in challenge.

You skate your fingers along the lace until you reach your inner thigh. You can feel the heat from your pussy.

"Please excuse me," you clear your throat in your best impression of being parched, "I'm just going to get some water."

You smile politely, and the bickering Senators pay you no mind as you walk around the table to where the water fountain is stationed. Right next to Commander Fox, not that that means anything.

No one is watching. They're all too self-absorbed in their own egos and need to be right all the time.

"You know," you drop your voice, standing next to Fox and facing the other way as if you're filling up one of the cups, "It's too bad the others are watching, or I'd be on my knees with your dick in my mouth."

Fox's head snaps to face you.

You stare into the emotionless visor, lips quirked up at just the thought of Fox's face underneath that bucket of his.

"I'm terribly sorry, Senator," Fox says, projecting his voice to be heard over the bickering (not that it matters any), "but I've just gotten word of a situation that needs your attention."

You hum in response to hold off the grin that threatens to overtake your face. "How sudden," you remark, "by all means, we should see to it."

Fox guides you out of the room with a hand on the small of your back that's less than professional.

You're pulled into a broom closet where there is distinctly no situation that needs your attention.

Fox rips his helmet off with no finesse and lets it clatter to the ground.

You duck his attempt at pulling you in for a kiss, instead folding onto your knees, fancy dress be damned.

"Cyare, what are you —"

Your hands unclasp his cod piece, setting it down beside you. "I said if no one was watching, I'd be on my knees," you gesture down at your position, "with your dick in my mouth," you gesture at the erection straining Fox's blacks. "Do you see anyone in here with us?"

Fox huffs in disbelief, "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

You grin up at him, pleased as punch as one of his hands caress your cheek, "You like it."

"I'd like it a lot more if you put your pretty lips around my cock."

You inhale sharply, thighs pressing tightly together. Your hands dutifully pull Fox's half hard cock from his pants.

Fox groans, thighs flexing as the cold air hits his cock. One of his hands fists tightly in your intricately pinned hair, and the first tug against your scalp has you keening into the empty storage closet.

"C'mon, pretty thing, put that mouth to good use."

He doesn't sound as commanding as you think he'd like to. He sounds desperate.

You press a soft kiss to the head of his weeping cock, right on his leaking slit, and lick the salty taste from your lips.

Fox's head drops back against the shelving unit behind him, rattling the disinfectant cans there. His hand tightens in your hair.

You have to open your mouth wide to the point of aching to fit him in your mouth.

He's just so thick.

Dedicating yourself in this moment to swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, paying special attention to the ridge of his head.

A tug at your hair has you taking more of his dick down your throat until you start to spasm around him, fighting back your gags.

You lose yourself in the stretch, in the taste. In the groan that reverberates through the room and resonates between your thighs.

You don't stop until your nose is pressed into the hairs at the base of his cock.

"Shit, you feel so good," Fox gasps, thunking his head against the shelving unit again. One of the cans falls, clattering to the ground with a noise that's too loud to be hidden by these thin walls.

"Fuck, your mouth is heaven, sweet thing,"

"You take me so well, baby. Like you were made to suck my cock."

"'m gonna cum,"

Fox babbles, like he always does when you need to be quiet. It's such a wild 180 from his normal bedroom persona — Fox is all rough words and rougher snaps of his hips when he's the one in charge.

Like this, though? Like this, Fox is at your mercy and he knows it.

You pull back until it's just the head of his cock in your mouth again, and both of your hands wrap around his shaft, stroking and twisting just how he likes as you suck on his tip.

His cock is practically drooling in your mouth, almost as wet as you are in your pretty panties.

You drag the edge of your nail along the vein on the underside of his cock and Fox whines as he cums in your mouth.

You swallow three times, twice to ensure you swallow all his cum and once just to see Fox squirm.

He tugs at your hair to get you off now, trembling in oversensitivity, and you show mercy with a soft kiss to his softening cock before sitting back on your heels, looking up at the commander through your eyelashes.

Your face is red, eyes watery and you know there's drool on your chin, but Fox drags you to your feet to kiss you like you're the most gorgeous sight on this side of the galaxy.

"Fuck," Fox hisses between kisses, "You're amazing, you know that?"

His hands grasp and fumble at the slit of your dress, gloved hands searching for the lace wrapped around your hips.

"Are you going to return the favor, Commander?" you ask, trailing biting kisses down his neck until you meet his plastoid armor.

Fox laughs against your skin, deft fingers hooking into your panties to stroke along your soaked slit.

"I'm about to do more than just that, sweet thing."

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) The Awkward Chronicles

(Author’s Note:  Here is some wild Bad Batch content for you.  I’m still not entirely sure why I did this, but I was sitting here laughing and blushing at this madness.  I’m one of those people who gets embarrassed so easily, so this fic was a ride for me.

-We all have ideas on what it’d be like to live and fight with the Bad Batch.  These are some short examples of the less glamorous things that can happen when you dwell with five males on a tiny ship-

Warnings:  Some awkward situations, embarrassment, some crude humor, potty humor)

Link to The Sequel

   You were walking down the hall, minding your own business, when it happened.  The lights went out.  As a matter of fact, it seemed that power in the entire ship was down.  You were left stranded in the pitch black, feeling around for the wall for only a few seconds before a low hum sounded and the emergency lights came on.

   The hall was cast in an eerie red light.

   “Tech!” Hunter’s growl made you jump.  That’s when you remembered; the last time you’d seen the Sergeant was when he excused himself to the refresher to take a shower.  A loud bang sounded on the door just a few feet away from you.  “Tech, what’s going on?”

   Before you could respond, the door slid open, and a very disgruntled Hunter emerged. It was quite a sight.  His long hair was damp and full of suds, some of which was falling into his eyes, and he wore a towel around his waist.  He was trying to blink the soap from his eyes, and he must not have seen you there because he marched straight into you.

   You yelped, hands shooting up instinctively to try and cushion the blow.  They landed on his broad chest, and you shrunk away awkwardly.  The dampness of his skin and the proximity was enough to make your face flare up.  Embarrassment quickly took its toll.  You were glad that the emergency lights were dim.

   “__________?” Hunter asked in disbelief, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes.  His grumpy demeanor was replaced with surprise.

   “Um, yeah, it’s me,” you replied.  “Sorry.”

   “I’m the one who ran into you,” he said in amusement.  He was right, but something about the situation just made you feel like you should apologize.  Maybe it was the way you were trying so very hard to meet his eyes and not let your attention wander.  

   Funny enough, Hunter didn’t seem at all bothered by the situation.  He continued to stand there unabashedly, eyes flickering past you.   “Where’s Tech?  Do you know what’s going on?”

   “He was making repairs in the cockpit,” you said. 

  “Would’ve been nice if he at least waited until no one was using the shower,” he mumbled.

   “Yeah, very true.  Here, I’ll just…”  You glanced at the floor, biting your lip.  “I’ll, um, tell him to hurry up with the power.”

   “Thanks,” Hunter nodded.  He gathered up his damp hair which had started to drip more suds down his shoulder, and turned to head back into the refresher.  You spun around and hurried toward the cockpit, ready to face-palm.

   That image won’t stay burned into your mind or anything.  Nope.

- - - -

   You glared at the empty roll.  It sat there tauntingly as your brain desperately thought of options to solve your current predicament.

   If you really wanted to, you could pull your bottoms up just enough to shimmy out of the refresher and grab a new roll of toilet paper in the supply closet.  It was a small ship, though, so there were a few things that could make the plan go awry.  Someone could easily walk by and witness the unfortunate situation.  Or worse, someone could be waiting for you to exit the refresher and slip in after you walk out the door.

   Your best bet would be to see if someone could bring you a roll.  Wrecker was the most ideal choice.  He was likely the one who left you with an empty roll in the first place, and he was the most relaxed of the group about things like that.  Not to mention you’d rescued him from the same situation a few times already.  You could count on him cracking a joke and then just moving on.

   Speaking of which, you heard his heavy footsteps going down the hall right then.  Relief washed over you as you grinned and gave the refresher door a knock.  “Wrecker!  Can I ask a favor?”

   “Sorry, ________!  I’m moving something for Hunter,” he grunted.  “Crosshair’s here though!  He can help you out.”

   Your smile faded.

   Crosshair was not a bad guy, but to say that you weren’t exactly eager to ask him to get you toilet paper was an understatement.  How could you bring yourself to ask the man and have him know your awkward situation?

  “What do you need?” Crosshair’s smooth voice was muffled through the refresher door.  You took a deep breath as you decided to take the plunge.

  “I, uh, I need someone to grab toilet paper from the closet.”

  It was dead silent on the other end for a minute, and you were inwardly cringing.  Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, and your face practically burned with shame.

   “Isn’t there any under the sink?”

   “Already checked,” you said.  “Someone forgot to restock it.”

   “That would be Wrecker.”  He sighed in annoyance.  “Give me a minute.”  It felt like forever before you heard him knock on the door again.  “I’m...I’m just going to leave it here.”

   “Thanks,” you called through the door.

   His footsteps faded away, and you cracked the door open just enough to snatch up the roll.

   In hindsight, Crosshair had been pretty cool about the whole thing.  You weren’t sure what to expect, but your wildest imagination had envisioned his tone being laced with disgust, or at the very least irritation toward you.  Or maybe a snide comment.  Even so, it didn’t do much to derail the embarrassment that had set in when you joined the others in the cockpit.  You had a hard time looking Crosshair’s way for a while.

- - - - 

   Where could they be?  You rested your hands on your hips, frustrated.  You had searched every inch of your bunk for your boots to no avail.  Hunter and Wrecker were waiting for you outside the ship to join them for a supply run.  The only thing you could think of was that perhaps during the last crash-landing, they slid up to the front.

  With a sigh, you typed up a quick message to Tech on your holopad.  He was already up there working on one of the panels: maybe he could check.

   Three dots appeared on the screen, which meant he was typing up a response.  Then, they disappeared.  They reappeared once more.  Confused, you were about to head up to the cockpit anyway before a ping sounded on your device, alerting you of his response.

   I take it you were asking about your boots.  If that’s the case, then yes, they’re here up front.

   Your brows furrowed.  “What…?  I did ask about boots.  What does he think I wrote?”   You scrolled up to see your original message, covering your mouth in shock.

   It read: Tech, have you seen my booty?

   You quickly typed up a response.  Oh my gosh.  Yes, I meant to say boots.

   That explained his hesitant reply before.  Your face heated up at the thought of the brainiac reading your typo and short-circuiting for a moment, being unsure of how to go about it.  You choked back a laugh on your way up front to fetch your boots.

   Tech was kneeling down beside the panel when you arrived.  

   “Heyy,” you greeted.  He paused his work to lift his helmet.  There was a hint of amusement in his gaze, and you could see the way he was fighting a smile.

   “Hello, ________.”

   “About earlier,” you grimaced.

   He finally cracked a smile, chuckling.  “No worries.  These things tend to happen.  I set your boots over there.”  He nodded in the direction of the co-pilot seat.  Face flushed, you grabbed your boots off the chair and pulled them on before heading out to join Hunter and Wrecker.

- - - -

   “Alright,” Hunter shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Who was that?”

   Everyone in the cockpit exchanged looks, some accusatory.  Under normal circumstances, you’d think the whole thing was childish.  But for someone with Hunter’s abilities, you sort of understood why every time someone passed gas, it became a game of “who did it?”

   It was almost always Wrecker.  Sometimes he’d admit it proudly, and other times he’d try and deny it.  This time, it seemed, he was out for blood.

   “It was __________,” he said.  “I heard it.”

   All eyes turned to you, including Hunter’s vexed expression.  You glared at the largest Bad Batcher with your heart thumping in embarrassment.  “Was not!”

   The corner of his mouth twitched.  A hint of a smile, though he quickly hid it.  “Come on, _________.  It’s bad enough that you disturbed Hunter’s ‘advanced senses.’”  He quoted the phrase that he’d heard Tech throw around before.  “But don’t try and cover it up.”

   “It wasn’t me.”  You replied in disbelief.  Turning to Hunter, your eyes took on a more pleading look.  “You’ve got to believe me.”

   “You’re being awfully defensive,” Echo noted.

   “Yeah, awfully defensive,” Wrecker repeated, nodding furiously.  “Own up, ________.  That one was really bad.”

   You sighed.  “This is silly.  It wasn’t me, and you know it.”

   “Maybe it was,” Crosshair shrugged.  “And maybe it wasn’t.”

   “Either way,” Hunter interrupted, shooting each of you a look.  “I’ll ask all of you one more time.  Try and hold off until we land, so I can leave.”

   The cockpit fell into silence once more, and you turned around to take a seat in one of the passenger chairs, brooding over the situation.  Wrecker shot you a cheeky grin, and you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that crept its way onto your features at his childishness.

- - - -

   “__________, could you fetch me another wrench?” Tech asked, grunting as he pulled out a few wires from the opening in the wall.  “I’m going to need it in a minute.”

   Your eyes caught something shiny on the tool kit he had laid out on the floor of the cockpit.  Kneeling down to pick it up, you shrugged.  “You mean like this?”  Tech glanced your way and shook his head.

   “A smaller one.”

   “Oh alright,” you sighed.  “Be right back.”  You moseyed your way out of the cockpit, taking your time because it was a slow day and there was no rush.  It was unusual for the ship to be so quiet.  That was most likely because Wrecker wasn’t on board.  He went with Hunter and Crosshair to see the planet a little.

   On your way back to the rest of Tech’s tools, you saw Echo making his way up front.

   “How go the repairs?” he asked.

   “Pretty good,” you said with a nod.  Both of you had paused to converse for a moment in the hall. “I’m grabbing some more tools for Tech.  Apparently the toolkit he brought up front doesn’t have the wrench he needs.”

   Echo chuckled.  “Well, good luck to you.  I’ve got my own repairs to make, or else I’d help.”

   “Well, thanks anyway.”  You smiled.

   “__________!” Tech called.  “If I am to proceed, I will need that wrench.”

   “One second!” you called back.  Shrugging, you mumbled, “duty calls.”  Echo and you both stepped aside so the other could pass by first.  A few chuckles floated into the air, and before you knew it both of you were taking a step forward at the same time.

   “Wow, okay, I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a little shy at the awkward close proximity.  Both of you sidestepped, bringing your chests together again.  Echo fidgeted a little with the contact.  Heat flooded your cheeks at how you were so close you nearly kissed.  Your friend rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  

   “Ah, sorry,” he mumbled.  “Why don’t you just go ahead?”  This time, he managed to take a step back and over against the wall, lighthearted laughter leaving his lips as you walked past.

   “Sorry,” you told him again over your shoulder.  As you walked away, you felt that familiar twinge of embarrassment.  Poor Echo looked somewhere between amused and a little embarrassed himself.  You were a little relieved to hear another laugh from him down the hall.

[kyberconfessions]

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. Part 4

Hello All! Sorry for the delay! My Hubby and I have had a busy month of July and I wasn’t able to keep to my schedule like I wanted too. Sorry about that. From Baseball games to Comic-Cons to Disney trips, we’ve been stupid busy. I am working furiously on the other chapters and hope to at least have some words on Cody soon! Y’all, not going to lie, the fact that there has been ZERO mention of him on The Bad Batch is killing me.

As Always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and deals with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate.

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 4: It’s You.

You waited with your back to the door on Hondo's ship; another one was docked right outside, carrying the crew that had something either of you wanted. You took a deep breath, adjusting your blaster in your thigh holster and checking over your clothes before putting on your helmet. The base of it was a black Ubese helmet, edged with black dyed bantha hair and painted to resemble a Kaleesh skull in white.  The edges of the white skull were rimmed in a dark red and the faux eyes were painted an electric green, almost making them glow.The breather of the helmet was pointed down, tapering at the end and etched with designs reminiscent of a certain Kel Dor. Twin points also came down from the sides,  once again resembling a Kel Dor breather, but painted to look like the fangs of the Kaleesh skull. When you wore it, you were an incredibly fearsome sight to behold. 

Hondo had stepped out of the cockpit while brushing off his clothes, but when he saw you he went on and on in a poetic manner making you snort behind your mask, "Pretty Lady must you put on that horrid thing? How am I supposed to gaze upon your beautiful Visage? How am I to write songs of your shiny eyes if you insist on covering them? How am I to chant loudly into the heavens about the glory of your smile when all I see is that ugly thing staring back at me?" 

The sound that came out of the modulator was a loud crack of static. It wasn't lost on him though, and he waggled his brow at you, knowing he made you laugh.

"Hondo, one of these days I'm going to launch you out of an airlock. Then you'll be Wild Space's problem."

He laughed loudly, but before he could give a retort, the door-lock opened and the crew from the other ship began to board.

Immediately the hair on your neck stood up and your hackles raised. It was time to go into heartless bounty hunter mode, another mask that became easier and easier for you to put on.

Hondo noticed your posture change and went to greet whoever had come aboard, stepping in front of your turned back. Whether it was to hide his best and most terrifying asset or to put space between you and them for your sake, you never knew. You liked to think it was his way of still protecting you, even after all these years. It probably was.

"My friends! My friends! So good to see you again! Ezra Bridger! It has been too long!" 

You heard the cacophony of voices greeting him in a less than enthusiastic excitement. If these people were your friends, you would have laughed again. But you didn't have friends.     From the sound of it, there were four people behind you. Nothing difficult to take down, but not something you should be careless with. There was something off about one of them though, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but they were...familiar.

"Allow me for introductions! This tall, imposing creature behind me is my associate, bodyguard, smuggler, chief pilot, chief mechanic, artistic muse, platonic soulmate, oldest friend, and beautifully deadly bounty hunter, all rolled into one.  And this band of colorful characters are the crew of the infamous Ghost!" Hondo waved his hands in a grandiose manner between the group and your back; this was a well rehearsed situation that you both had done several times, though for whatever reason, he decided to over exaggerate your titles. Normally he would do the talking and you would scare the clientele. And if you had too, if they had something that you knew belonged to them, you'd kill them. Nothing would keep you from the last remnants of the ones you loved and lost.

"Ahh, Hondo? Does your associate have a name? Or talk? Are they even awake? Are they just going to stand there?" You heard a boy's voice, a cockiness only found in the young lacing every word. 

"Ezra." A woman, probably someone important, chastised the boy.

You waited for Hondo's signal for you to turn, but the door opened once more and you heard one more set of boots and something soft, furry, stepping across the steel. A voice spoke. A Lassat. Dangerous creatures, you had seen a few when you were still a young Padawan with your old Master. Before the war. Before they died. Back when your biggest concern was the eventual Trials. You knew a fight wasn't going to be easy and you hated the idea of killing an already dying race. But you would if you had too.

The Lassat male was arguing with someone about something, but you weren't paying attention.

Hondo touched your shoulder softly, your signal to turn. He had spent the time making pleasantries and lulling them into a false sense of comfort, probably. He could have been talking about the weather on Jakku for all you cared. You were more concerned about making sure the straps on your holsters were open, giving you easy access to draw.

Slowly you moved, letting them see just how dangerous you were, how in control of your body you were, how much they should fear the creature behind the helmet. But, you halted mid spin.

All of the blood drained from your face, your mouth went dry, your throat tightened up, and you were overcome with such anger and gut wrenching sorrow you thought you would snap.

The man that walked in with the Lessat was wearing HIS armor. The armor you had spent 15 years looking for.

You blanked. 

Somewhere there was yelling and cries to stop, but you couldn't make it out. Your head was spinning and it felt like there was cotton in your ears and as tunnel vision took over, everything knocked your senses for a loop. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but you grabbed both your blasters, turned fully, and pointed them at the man. Half the crew jumped out of the way, the others pointed their weapons at you, and Hondo tried to reason with both sides, standing with his back to you while the man had his own blasters trained on your head. Hondo quickly got out of the way of the four barrels, still trying to diffuse the situation. You couldn't understand what he was saying, everything sounded so dull and muted.

No, wait. Those weren't just any blasters. You would know those DC-17s anywhere. 

"HOW DARE YOU!"

 Someone was screaming. You couldn’t tell who it was or where it was coming from. It was garbled and cracking, a mechanical sound. It hurt your head. You just wanted everything to stop, just for a moment. But the world kept spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out any moment. You just wanted everything to be quiet, you needed to think, you just wanted a moment to figure out what was going on. Why was it so loud? Why did everything hurt? You just wanted everyone to just be still. Just be still, if only for a second. 

You could feel your breathing pick up, that tightening fear in your chest, that ache that gripped your heart and threatened to pull it from your body. ‘Just be quiet, please, please, be quiet. I can’t...I need to think, I need to think..’

"HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS HELM!” More screaming,  “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO HE WAS?! DO YOU?! HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS ARMOR AS YOUR OWN! HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE AND KNOW NOTHING OF HIM!" Maker, the screaming was coming from you. You were yelling at him, venomous spit falling from your mouth, words meant to shame and kill. Your blasters were trained on his chest, fingers laying on the triggers. 

"TAKE IT OFF OR I WILL RIP IT FROM YOUR BROKEN CORPSE!"

You could feel something wet on your cheeks but you didn't know what it was or where it came from.  Did this man kill Rex?! Did he rip his beloved armor from his broken body? Did he leave him to rot in some cursed field? Or did he just take it from his already forgotten skeleton? Your heart beat a mile a minute, you were sweating and your whole body shook in anger, but your hands never wavered, blasters trained perfectly on the man. How dare this cretin dishonor Rex, dishonor his memory. 

"YOU WILL NEVER INSULT HIS MEMORY AGAIN! TAKE IT OFF!!"

You were panting and your modulator was straining under the volume of your voice.

No one lowered their weapons. No one spoke. No one moved a muscle. All that could be heard were your wheezing sobs through the helm.

 There was a beat. And then another. And then the man did something unexpected.

You just knew you were going to have to kill everyone. You just knew you were going to peel bloodied, beloved armor from some backwater nothing. 

But when he slowly lowered his arms, holstering the DC-17s, you faltered. Was he giving up so easily? Perhaps he didn't want bloodshed after all. Good. But it didn't make you lower yours. Nor did it make the others lower theirs.

Slowly, like he was trying to coax a scared lothcat, the man raised his open hands to the old helm covered in hatch marks with jaig eyes and pulled it off. 

First you saw weathered skin tanned from the sun, a white beard trimmed nicely, then a strong nose and finally golden eyes, eyes you had seen a million times before. Eyes that haunted you every time you went to sleep. Eyes you thought you would never see again.

When he had taken the helm completely off and tucked it under his arm, he spoke. And everything inside of you shattered.

"My name is Rex. Captain of 501st regiment in the Grand Army of the Republic. This is my armor that was issued to me almost 20 years ago. I don't know who you think I am, but I can assure you, this is my armor."

The others watched you, weapons trained. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed. You, on the other hand, felt everything rushing back at you full force. When he spoke, his voice was a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you, causing you to hyperventilate.  Your blasters, still trained on him, began to shake violently in your hands.

You were panting and your eyes blurred from all of the new tears. Panic rose high in your throat, cutting off your breathing. It can’t be. How could it be? He died. The Empire recorded him dying after Mandalore. You were there, you saw the absolute destruction. No one survived that.

Involuntarily you dropped your weapons and they clattered loudly to the durasteel ground, but your arms were still stretched out, still holding onto phantom guns. 

You inhaled sharply, your modulator cracking in a loud hiss. Slowly, trying to control the tremors that wracked your body, you moved your hands to your own helm and unlatched the buckles on the sides. There was another hiss as the airtight seals released the pressure and vented.

"What's going on..." the young boy started. "Hush, Ezra Bridger." Hondo cut him off, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder as you and Rex stared one another down.

You lifted your helm up and then let it fall to the floor, a loud clank shaking the silence between you all.

Rex sucked in a breath and released it in a harsh shudder, his mouth hanging open. "Mesh'la," he whispered; he could feel his knees giving out, causing him to stumble forward and push his way through his crew.

His eyes were as wide as saucers and glistening. Fat, heavy tears tracked down his face and fell into his beard as he reached shaking hands out to you. He paused for a moment, afraid that if he touched you, you would disappear like every dream before. But carefully his hands gripped your face, gently turning it side to side, taking in the scars and faint crows feet and wisps of grey hairs you now sported. Your age and harsh life showed, but you were still just as beautiful, just as ageless, just as perfect as he remembered. Still the same eyes that he dreamed of every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and every nerve ending burned. You could hear your blood pumping in your ears, creating a painful rush like being thrown under the oceans. Every part of you felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move. Slowly your shaking hands gripped his wrists and held him close. Your body tried to take a shuddering breath, but it only came out as a choked sob while you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the noise left you, Rex pulled you close, his mouth over taking yours in a passionate kiss, full of tongue and teeth. Your hands left his wrists and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to hold your face.

"Rex. I thought....I thought you were...Rex," you whispered into his lips between kisses.

"I searched for you, Cyare. I looked everywhere. I thought you died. I thought Cody.."

Your breath hitched at his name, making Rex pull you impossibly closer. You both stood there, wrapped in eachothers arms, crying, kissing, whispering love to one another, completely oblivious to the others. 

You weren't sure if your knees failed you, or if it were his, but one of you fell to the floor, taking the other with them, still wrapped in each other, crying and holding on for dear life. 

The Twi'lek woman quietly ushered the others, a man and a Mandalorian girl, along with the boy and Lessat, out. Hondo followed behind, a smug smile on his face, ridiculously proud of himself, giving you both much needed privacy.

[creatureofmystry]

MLB x DC Universe Headcannons

I just love the idea of MLB and DC (expecially Batfam cuz Mari is such a Wayne) being in the same universe and crossing over. So one night, I just had an idea overload of different ways the Marinette would know the batfam/be a part of the DC universe. And if any of my shitty ideas somehow inspire or prompt you, then please be my guest. 😊 _

1) “Ladybugs of Past and Present”

Hippolyta, Wonder Woman’s mother, was once a previous holder of the ladybug miraculous. When Fu activated the miraculous and put them in circulation, Hippolyta could feel its magic waking back up. Knowing there must a reason for it to be out, she sent a message to her daughter. Diana searched, finding Marinette and Adrien as the present holders of the ladybug and cat miraculous. She vouched and brought them into the Young Justice program while they also made their own team, Project: Zodiac (or something like that).

[Sometime when Diana takes Marinette to meet Hippolyta]

“Great Hera, Tikki, you have not aged a day” -Hippolyta, cause she does know how to make joke. 

“And I would say the same to you” -Tikki

“Mother, you can make a laugh?” -Wonder Woman, honestly a bit confused cause her mom have never not been serious before.

And Marinette is just speechless cause she’s starstruck meeting Wonder Woman’s mom AND a previous Ladybug holder.

_

2) “Rockstar Niece”

Jagged Stone is Marinette’s Sweet Uncle J. During the summers, Jagged Stone would take Mari with him on tour. HIs summer tours are throughout America, so Mari gets to sightsee the country. Jagged’s first tour that he gets to take Mari on (5-ish), he’s also booked for the annual (for whatever reason) Wayne Summer Gala. When Marinette meets the Waynes, they are so enamoured (Dick and Tim couldn’t help it) that they tell Jagged he’s always invited as a guest, Mari of course being added to the permanent guest list too. About 6 years later, Mari is practically adopted, spending the first half of her summers with Jagged, going to the Wayne Gala, then spending the rest of her summer with the Waynes. Overtime, she figured out the secrets of the family and was there to welcome Jason back from the dead (when that happens). Anyways, now 11(-ish?) Mari meets Damian and the two become good friends… after an… impressionable first meeting.

“Tch, let me guess, you’re another one of father’s adopted strays” -Dami

“YOU MUST BE DAMIAN!!! DICK TOLD ME ABOUT YOU!!” -Marinette, who just ignores what he said for a hug.

“hiiiiiiiiissssssss” -Dami, touchy with touch

“...” sprays water in his face since he decided to act like a cat.

“I say, Master Bruce, the children are getting along quite well” -Alfred

_

3) “Pen Pals” 

Jon Kent and Marinette Dupain-Cheng are part of an international pen-pal program, starting when they were very young (maybe like 4 or 5-ish, super super young) where they told each other everything (Jon can’t just say that his older bro is a clone made from Superman and Lex Luthor’s DNA, or that his dad is Superman, or that his best friend is Robin, but yea. Lois and Clark probably proofread his stuff until he’s like 9) with pictures and everything. When they’re old enough to get phones & stuff, they call, text and vid-chat along with their letters (love without blood). When Mari is maybe 9-11 (somewhere around there) she starts flying over during the summers to hangout with Jon (and his friends and big brother). While there, she meets Kon, Bat fam, and Clark (some who she already knew, some who she didn’t) & lightly hints that she knows who all they are once she figures it out (it didn’t take her long to do so). 

Now whenever she visits and is at Wayne Manor (Jon likes to have sleepovers practically every weekend) while they’re on patrol, Mari subtly messes with their minds (super subtle, they’re the world’s best detectives after all) until they finally look through the cams and see Mari giving them one of those smiles (those shit-grinning cause it’s just so hilarious how it’s gone on for so long) & and a playful wink. 

[5 seconds later]

“Mari!” “Pixie-pop!” “Angel!” “Teacup!”

“Seriously, am I the only one with a normal nickname for her?” -Tim

“Ms. Marinette would like to inform you that ‘it took you long enough’” -Alfred (who so knows that the girl has been playing them since the third night she stayed at the Wayne’s)

“Where are my adoption papers?” -Bruce (who is seriously adopting any talented black-haired child)

_

4) “Mari and Mar’i” 

When Mar’i is young, Dick and Kori take her with them to see Paris (btw, this would be during the winter). They’re strolling along through a park and lose track of Mar’i who finds Marinette (9-10 ish). Marinette comforts and distracts Mar’i while noticing the young(er) girl is Tameranian (her hair is very warm and she’s wearing significantly less layers than should be worn for a human of that age during the winter, plus that sun-kissed skin tone. She’s seen Kori in her fashion magazines (and, from time to time, on the news as an ambassador) so she easily make the connections). Dick and Kori finally spot Mar’i with Mari who introduces herself to them. Mar’i asks if she can see her “Auntinette” again and Marinette just goes “if your parents are okay with it.” Dick and Kori are totally cool with it (not many are willing to watch her and have the time to do it) so they ask Marinette if she can babysit Mar’i whenever (with good pay of course) if she’s up to it (cause she’s still pretty young). Marinette can’t say no to Mar’i’s babydoll eyes (and she’s so much easier compared to Manon, who’s only 2 rn), so of course, she says yes. 

Now Marinette is Mar’is official babysitter and sees Mar’i often whenever her parents drop her off (using zeta tubes to quickly get to Paris and back). Marinette gets treated like an honorary Wayne (cause she’s the most responsible) and gets invited to their family stuff (w/ travel pay taken care of, of course). It doesn’t take her long to realize the fact that she babysits Bruce Wayne’s & BATMAN’S granddaughter, but of course, being the responsible one she is, keeps the secret… while also playing with them via Mar’i.

[One Day]

After Marinette leaves for her plane…

“Uncle Dami!”

“Yes, Spawn?”

“Auntinette said to tell you after she left that Robin’s sut needs a major upgrade & that you look like a traffic light… whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

[Another Day]

“Uncle Jay!”

“What’s up kid?’

“Auntinette said that to let you know that Red Hood doesn’t make any sense ‘cause Red Hood wears a helmet. Not a hood.”

[The next time]

“Uncle Tim!”

Yawn. “yea?”

“Auntie told me to give you this” (pulls out super caffeinated coffee) “and that Red Robin’s cowl is a menace to all things fashion”

[Again…] 

“Daddy!”

“Yes, Starshine?”

“Auntienette said she’s proud of Nightwing’s costume ‘cause it’s one of the only in the batfam that isn’t an astro-city to the fashion society.”

_

5) “Marinette, the one who’s always getting chosen”

Before Mari became (becomes(?)) LB, she comes across a different powerful piece of jewelry, from a different order of guardians where her will of mind is not only her shield from being akumatized, but it is also what drives her powers. That’s right, Mari walks past a flea market and activates a GL ring. The guardians pick up on this activity and send Hal (it is his sector) to check it out. Hal finds the ring with Mari but it still needs the light of a GL to charge and fully work. 

[During the explanation]

“Look, kid-”

“Marinette.” 

“Look, kid, I just need to know why you have that ring.”

“You think I know? I was just walking through the market and all of a sudden, this possessed ring, if that’s even what this is, started following me, then zipped in front of my face til i held my hand up so it can put itself on my finger.” 

“Kid-”

“It’s MARINETTE. Get it wrong one more time and you’ll see why I don’t need a possessed piece of alien jewelry.” -Marinette, making sure you get her name right. “Besides, if I stole it, I would remember. I’m a klepto” -Marinette, probably holding his ring too at this point.

Hal obviously doesn’t want the wrath of the Dupain-Chengs (just the kid Marinette scares him enough), so he tells the guardians that JL will take care of most of Mari’s training (once they get her a lamp for her ring, of course) & has her take part in training at Mt. Justice with the Young Justice team and special training with the Bats. Mari does all this under the guise of an international student exchange program for Mari to stay with the Waynes (not yet knowing that it’s the bat fam) and attends G.A. Mari doesn’t do much, but it takes her 24-36 hours to know who EVERYONE is.

[the next week after settling in]

“Hey, Mars,” -Dick, in his Nightwing gear

“Hey, Di-is the GREATEST SHOW!” -Mari, changing the subject(… not really)

“How long did it take you?”

“Not as long as the Kryptonians…” -Mari, going off into a tangent (still trying to change the subject”

[When Marinette meets Tikki]

Back in Paris:

“Sooo… I’m getting powerful jewelry that gives me powers and a suit, needs to be recharged, and comes from some Order of the Guardians? What’s the difference between you and my ring?” -Marinette, who at this point is very confused as to why she keeps getting picked on for this kind of stuff. 

“One’s alien, one’s magic” -Tikki, hoping Mari will end it there & lowkey hates that the GL Corp. got to her first.

“They’re both non-human made energy sources” -Mari, cause once you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it all before. 

“You can’t heal the Akuma without the miraculous, and there are more than just rings. Yours are earrings, there are hair clips, bracelets, necklaces and more” -Tikki, after having a minute to think

“Fine, only because you said they’re the only way to heal the, what was it again, akuma?”

_

6) “Their Unofficial Official Barista”

Part of Tim’s job as Co-CEO, is to make sure all the branches are running smoothly, sometimes that means he has to fly abroad to manually check in. Tim goes to Paris to check on the W.E. Paris branch. He goes to a nearby Patisserie (Tom and Sabine’s) to see a young Marinette (somewhere from 8-11) drawing in her sketchbook at the counter. She explains that her parents are at a catering event, but she’s there to man the little bakery. Tim asks for a super caffeinated coffee and Marinette makes it with ease, claiming it was on the house with how bad he looks (and how much sleep the man clearly needs). Tim begs for her knowledge and asks if she can teach his butler. Mari’s willing to show him the next time he comes, so he gets the whole fam to go (viz tubes so they don’t waste time) maybe a week later. Everyone gets their own drink (plus a free pastries) and Marinette teaches Alfred her coffee, but it’s just not the same so Tim, using the tubes, goes to get coffee from the girl whenever he can. 

Mari is horrible at getting up on time (the life of an insomniac, never getting to sleep even if you want and then barely waking up on time) that she is up super early, makes Tim his coffee (plus a croissant) and tries to go back to sleep (making her inevitably late). Tim would walk up to the pick-up counter where his cup and to-go bag is while Marinette runs out of the house to get to school. Eventually, the rest of the Batfam (as well as the Laegue, TT, and YJ) frequent the place, slowly becoming (Dami too) Mari hides it, but she knew all the batfam the first day they came and she showed Alfred how to make the coffee. When the others start making more regular appearances, she learns the identities of YJ team, WW, GLs, and others. Obviously when LB and CN appear as heroes with HM as their villain, they immediately reach out to help. Because 1. Batfam clearly notices that it’s Mari and they sure as heck won’t let her deal with that by herself, and 2. The JL is worrying too much about their favorite barista (even though she’s not really one), especially with the Gigantitan scare. So, of course LB & CN (can’t make him bad everytime) get inducted into YJ.

[After Ladybug finishes defeating Gigantitan and detransforms] 

“Bean! Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” -Tim, being an even more protective older brother than Dick, which shouldn’t be possible

“Yes, I promise. I’m fine” -Marinette, who just accepts the fact that she’s adopted an older brother (and his famliy)

“Tube over, we’ll have Alfred make sure” -Dick, already pulling out the medical supplies for Alfred.

“I-” 

“You shouldn’t worry your brothers like that, Marinette. Now come over so Alfred can clear you,” -Bruce, who just happens to overhear the conversation

“I’m sorry, Miss Marinette, they are very adamant that you’re in pitch perfect health before going out again,” -Alfred, who’s not actually sorry

“Fine” -Marinette, accepting her fate of her adopted, protective family. 

_

7) “Thicker Than the Blood We’ve Shed”

Why is Marinette so freakishly strong? Because she was trained to be. Before she could even talk, Mari was taught to be an assassin. She and Damian were frenemies, both competing for top spot as best in the League (of Assassins). They often spared together and became rivals who pushed each other (which sounds great in that context if you forget about the fact that they’re killing people and turning it into a competition). When Damian’s care is turned over to Batsy, Mari also comes along for the ride. She implements herself into Dami’s classes at G.A. & watches him from afar. (Damian, not being an idiot, of course knows all this and knows that it’s probably for Mari to give a report to Talia.) When he becomes Robin, Mari obviously knows, but waits to see if anything drastic would happen (his care was given to the Batfam, they had already expected this to happen.) She then heard word of the bounty Talia put on Damian’s head. Marinette knew there wouldn’t be much she could do to help, but she ave Dami a warning about the upcoming situation before fleeing the country. 

From there she got to France, changed her name (it wasn’t originally Marinette, it was Shénqí, chinese for miraculous/magical (or something else if you want)), was adopted by Tom & Sabine, and left her time in the League in the past. When she received Tikki, she didn’t want to be a hero because she didn’t think she deserved it after her up-bringing. Eventually, she did become LB (being a trained assassin does help with lucky charms, considering she was taught how to kill with basically every and anything), and life was good for her. Then Rossi came.

[Gotham field trip]

While at Wayne Tower…

“How idiotic are they?” -Damian, who after reuniting with his long-lost sister-from-a-different-mister (yes, Marinette was able to convince him to say it once), can’t understand the stupidity she has to deal with.

“Are you Robin?” -Mari, who is too tired, so just goes straight into the analogy

“Yes.” -Obvious and simply is.

“Exactly” -Mari, who can’t even put a limit to the amount of thought the one brain cell the class shares doesn’t use. I mean please, the so-called “reporter” believed that the first cosplayer she saw was the actual LB when they don’t even have the same hair! And let’s not forget the origins arc, where LB’s first citizen save was Chloe.

[programaticallydelicious]

A Princess, a Knight, and a Dragon Walk Into a Bar. She Orders a Drink.

“That’s an awful big coin you’re trying to use.” the man behind the counter said, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight as he held it up for a better look. He set it on the counter in front of him and then leaned toward the armored figure in front of him. “An awfully big coin, for a place this far out in the sticks”

“Indeed.” said the armored figure, their voice higher than expected given the bulk of their armor. “How far would that take me here?”

“Hrmm.” The innkeeper stood back up, tapping the counter slightly with one hand while the other rubbed the back of his neck. “Less the changing fee a merchant caravan would charge me, I’d say...” he paused for a moment, idle tapping and the popping of the hearth’s fire the only sounds in the room. “I’d say a good year or so of room and board. But-” he lifted his hand from the counter and brought it down with a slap. “I won’t be risking my business with something so suspicious. Crown inspectors are no joke and, well.” He bowed his head slightly before looking straight at the armored figure again, “harboring a criminal would get me a shared sentence, you see. So I gotta be sure.”

The armored figure was silent for long enough you could swear the tension between the two caused the air itself to dance. “Yes,” the figure finally began, “I can see that being a problem for you.” The figure reached up and grabbed their helmet, pulling it off and setting it down on the counter with a thunk.

With the helmet off, the armored figure was plainly a woman, albeit one of impressive stature. She reached up to the mat of scarlet hair that had just been freed from the helmet, and winced for a moment. “God, I’m so glad mother taught me something for this.” Her hand glowed for a moment as she pulled it across her hair, and the unruly bundle untangled into a long cascade of brilliant red. “Would take me a week otherwise. So,” she said, looking at the innkeeper with her unnervingly golden eyes. “I think there are only two people in the kingdom who look like this.”

“Am I safe to assume,” the innkeeper asked, eyes wide as he straightened his back and lowered his eyes to the floor, “that you are Her Royal Highness, Princess Anneliese?” His hands shook slightly as he held them to his sides.

“Oh, oh my yes.” She smiled, eyes glittering as she took in how nervous he was over his overly familiar address of a noble. No matter that he had no cause to know one way or the other. “Much as my mother would love to be mistaken for me, I am the princess.” She took a step to the side and then sank onto one of the stools lined up in front of the counter. “Don’t worry about the formalities. I’m sure they’ll be tiresome to maintain for a month or two while I’m here.”

“A month-” the man leaned against the wall behind him, one hand to his chest. “Your highness, what reason could you have of staying somewhere like, well, this-” he gestured to the room around them, “for a month?”

“Oh, plenty of reasons. You’ll probably be getting some sort of royal proclamation sometime this week.” She sighed, her own hand tapping out a staccato rhythm on the counter this time. “It’ll say something about me being missing, and the black knight preparing to rescue me from the dragon who stole me away.”

“I think,” the innkeeper took a moment to breathe, then sat down heavily on a stool he kept behind the counter. “I don’t think I’d like to see the black knight tearing the place to pieces trying to take you back to the castle.”

“Hah! Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know this, but…” she grabbed her helmet off the counter and held it up, before tossing it to her other hand and setting it back down. “I am also the black knight, and I have no intent of tearing some innocent man’s inn to pieces in order to rescue myself from a dragon. You aren’t a dragon, are you?”

“Ah, no.” The innkeeper blinked. “I don’t believe I am.”

“Well, there you have it! No reason to battle a dragon here.” She thought for a moment, then tapped the coin that was still sitting on the counter. “How about we start in on this with a bit of ale. Keep the extra as thanks for putting up with me, and maybe as the cost of a bit of silence, eh?”

“Yes. I think I could use some myself.” The innkeeper stood up and puttered about, grabbing a pair of tankards and filling them before setting them on the counter in front of the princess knight, and sitting back down himself. “That doesn’t explain the dragon though, or the fact that the king is sending you to save yourself.”

"Well, the king does know I am the black knight.” She winked at him. “No way a masked knight stays masked for nearly ten years without powerful backing.”

“That honestly just makes this more confusing.” The innkeeper said, picking up his own flagon and taking a deep drink.

“Oh, I can do you one better” she said as her golden eyes glinted in the firelight. “I’m also the dragon.” As if to emphasize this point, a rather clear abundance of pointed teeth caught the light as she smiled at the innkeeper, the pupils in her golden eyes stretching vertically for a moment before her face and teeth returned to normal.

“I...see.” The innkeeper looked at his suddenly empty tankard. “Does the king know-”

“Does my father know that his own daughter, borne by the mysterious foreign queen he famously rescued from a dragon as a runaway prince slash adventurer, is a dragon?”

“I-I didn’t mean to imply-”

She held up her hand to stop him, grinning widely all the while. “Yes, he knows. He’s never actually slain a dragon, you see. That said-” she grimaced, eyes looking somewhere far beyond this room, “you will not believe how many times I’ve heard ‘accidental’ mis-phrasing about him having ‘lain’ a dragon. It gets old.”

The innkeeper coughed, face turning read as he choked and sputtered and finally burst out into full-bellied laughter.

“And before you ask, the whole thing started because some new maid saw me all half-dragon in my own bedchamber, and kicked up a fuss about me being stolen away by a dragon before I could stop her.”

“I wasn’t going to-”

“Oh, of course you weren’t going to pry. I suggest you never wager money on a card game, by the way.” The princess smiled at him again. “Anyway, yes, the king knows. And I tried to get him to stop it. But no, of course not. He hasn’t had this much fun since he abandoned his duties as a prince to go play adventurer.”

She sighed, before downing the rest of her drink. “So now I get to stay out of the way for a month or three while mother dearest arranges a mock battle with one of my aunts, and convinces one of my cousins to let me parade them through the city like the biggest prize at the fair.”

“And-” she slammed her gauntleted fist on the table, “If my father dares suggest I marry myself for battling myself to rescue myself from myself during the award ceremony at the end, I absolutely will tear off my helmet and transform right there in court. Give the nobles something they’ll never forget.”

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

You Marked More Than Just My Skin - Supercorp

Read it on AO3

Kara’s first instinct was to blame Alex because, if she was going to be honest, Alex was the one to blame for many of her stupid decisions. Sisters' competitive nature or something like that. That's what their mother would say when they were teenagers and they randomly started a fight. A just adopted Kara who had just lost her parents was not letting an overly cocky Alex win without fighting back.

So, naturally, she was going to blame Alex for this. However, Alex had nothing to do with Kara walking down the street from her job one day and entering the tattoo shop she walked past by every day on her way home. No, it had started with Winn, her best friend, saying that Kara wasn’t the type of person to do things out of impulse. Which he wasn’t exactly wrong, although he hit a sore spot because "I can be very spontaneous!" had been Kara’s answer and everyone around them gave her that look that made it pretty clear no one believed her.

Then, just about a week after that, Nia was walking home with her after a stop at Noonan's for their killer milkshake and saw the tattoo shop still open even if it was past 10 pm. There was no one inside that they could see, but the sign read "open" in neon letters and Nia did a double-take when she saw the walls covered in drawings.

"Oh, my God! Look at that thing!" she had screamed. And that thing was a fairly beautiful drawing of a girl lying in bed with a cloud above her head as though she was dreaming about a myriad of things.

Nia grabbed her arm, dragged her inside and, ten minutes later, she was sitting on a chair while a young man that couldn't be older than Kara permanently marked the skin on her forearm with the same drawing.

"Did you draw it?" Nia asked and Kara could tell she was just a little bit in pain because she was clutching the arm of the chair and hadn’t stopped babbling for two seconds. Not that Nia ever stopped talking, actually.

"No," the man replied in an excited voice. Like he was happy to be doing a tattoo on a girl that had just ten minutes prior decided she wanted one. But Kara held back her tongue, took some pictures while Nia made her goofy faces and sat on a stool at the corner like the good friend she was. "My boss did. She does most of the drawings we have available."

"Well, she has a hell of a talent!" Nia exclaimed, bit her lip when the needle hit a soft spot and flashed another smile once it was gone. "You should tell her she's amazing!"

Jack, that was his name, Kara reminded herself, laughed like that was a big joke that only he was aware of, but nodded all the same. "She's in the office right now, maybe she will stop by to hear you say that. She loves when people pick her drawings, but she will never say it out loud."

The woman, whoever she was, didn’t leave her office, not even when they left, way past midnight, listening to Jack's careful instructions on how to take care of Nia's arm for the next week. In the end, Kara had to admit Jack was a nice guy. And he did an excellent job. Nia's tattoo was perfect. Perfect for her and perfectly done, and her friend had no problem showing it off the next day.

"Holy crap!" Winn screamed when he saw it on game night on Friday. "I didn't know you were into tattoos. It looks awesome!"

"Thank you! And I just decided to do it," Nia shrugged, as though deciding to do a tattoo on a Wednesday night at 10 pm after getting a milkshake was a normal thing. "Thank Goddess Kara was with me so she could keep me company."

"Wait," Winn eyed Kara with the same incredulous expression from a week before and she immediately felt defensive. "Kara was there and didn't try to stop you?"

"She did say I might regret it," Nia conceded with a smile. "About ten times, but she stayed with me."

Kara rolled her eyes, picked up the pizza box and sulked on the couch while her friends made fun of her lack of spontaneous nature. Kara was a planner. And she had learned her lesson when she decided to walk to the park instead of going home one day after school and returned to the Danvers' household to find out three police cars parked at the street and a frantic Eliza giving them a photo of her and saying she had disappeared. So, yes, Kara wasn't one to do things out of the blue anymore, but that was hardly a bad thing.

She tried to tell that to herself for the next week while everyone still awed and cooed at Nia's tattoo. She tried to remind herself of Eliza's panicked face while James, with his impressive looking dragon tattoo on his back, said Kara would never be one to make a tattoo because she would keep changing her mind. She tried to picture Alex's disapproving stare while Nia's boyfriend, Querl, made comments on how he loved Nia's carefree and spontaneous nature.

In the end, what pushed her to do it was her boss and Kara couldn’t even blame her, or Alex, or any of her friends. But she would, anyway.

"Kiera, the reason why people hardly remember your name-" she wanted to point out that Cat was the only one who had a hard time remembering her name but bit her tongue instead "-is because you are so... blank."

"Blank?" Kara had asked, trying and failing not to look so offended.

And Cat nodded because she knew how to get to her. "Nothing remarkable. You use terrible sweaters and write articles that everyone could write. Did you ever do something, I don’t know, remotely spontaneous in your life?"

Kara was sure - or almost sure because you can never know with Cat Grant - that her boss was trying to push her to fly to Midvale to write about the scandal surrounding some tech company there even though Snapper had decided William would cover that for CatCo. It was either that or to make her wear something that wasn’t in pastel color.

Well, all it did was send Kara straight to a tattoo shop where she hoped to find Jack and demand he did something as spectacular as Nia's tattoo. And she went on a mission, marching down the ten blocks from CatCo to the tattoo shop - that only that day she stopped to read the name of and what weird name they chose, Le Vintage Ink - her feet hitting the ground with a purpose, her hand pushing the door open with a vengeance, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses with one goal in mind.

It wasn't Jack she saw, however. She didn't see anyone at first, actually. The shop was empty like it was a week before and very silent, with the air conditioner doing a soft hum and nothing else.

The anti climax moment was enough to make all her determination wave off. Her shoulders dropped, her eyes rounded, her feet started to stamp and her determination, well, she didn’t quite remember it anymore. Nobody needed to know, Kara told to herself. Nobody knew she was going to do it, so she could just turn around, leave, go back to her apartment and try to do some online shopping. Maybe buy a red dress for once. None of her friends would ever believe she went back to the tattoo shop, so there would be no problem...

No. That was exactly the problem. They wouldn’t even believe her if she told them. They would laugh, call it a bluff, and keep teasing Kara for not being adventurous like they were. Alex does this long motorbike drives all over the state sometimes, and James goes hiking and jumps from planes from time to time. Winn would point out that the last thing Kara did without meticulous planning was to change pizza night for potstickers and that was only because the pizza place she always orders from was out of pineapples.

However, Kara reasoned with herself, instead of doing a tattoo, she could just go with Alex on her next trip. Maybe she could ask James to teach her how to hike. Querl adopted a cat he found behind his building, so maybe that could be Kara’s unplanned moment too. And what did Winn do so adventurous or spontaneous that he had the right to make fun of Kara? She couldn’t remember.

Yes, any of those things would be more reasonable. She could even do an impromptu visit to her mother. It would count for something. She knew Eliza would be happy and she loved making her mom happy. She could even pick Alex's old helmet so her sister could use it to ride with her girlfriend, Kelly, and Eliza makes a killer chocolate pecan pie too.

Already dreaming with the taste of the pie crust in her mouth Kara turned around. She must have been inside the tattoo shop for less than ten seconds and Jack hadn’t shown up yet, so that was a plus and a sign, even if she wanted to greet him and tell how nice Nia's tattoo looked after a week.

The second her back was turned to the counter, though, she heard a door opening and then a voice filled the silence. "Can I help you?"

That wasn’t Jack's voice. That much she knew. What she didn’t know was that someone could sound so... husky and still be so clear on the words. What she also didn’t know was why her body froze like she had been hit with lightning. Or why she ever decided to leave when a voice like that was inside the shop.

It would be rude to just keep walking, Kara told herself and even she knew it was a lame excuse for wanting to see the owner of that voice. But she still turned around, eyes blinking fast as she tried not to miss a second of what she was about to see, and then immediately felt her soul leave her body. That was the only explanation on why her mouth fell open and why her brain's function slowed down at least 30%.

Because the voice's owner was... for the lack of a better word, striking. It was a woman, looking a few years younger than Kara, with dark as coal wavy hair falling down her shoulders, green piercing eyes framed by some heavy eyeliner and plump lips painted with red lipstick. The woman was wearing a black t-shirt from a band Kara had never heard of, the v-cut being deep enough that she could see a black bra under it. The shirt looked like she had been cut at home - maybe she wasn't designed to have such a deep v-neck, maybe she had sleeves at some point and maybe the deep cuts by each side also weren't a part of the initial product. But, damn, it looked great on her. Since she had no sleeves and the shirt moved as she walked and showed a great expanse of her sides, Kara could see that the woman’s body was covered in tattoos.

Her arms, from shoulder to wrist, were almost totally covered. Her left arm almost looked like a flower shop, with dozens of flowers in different colors drawn all over it. Her right arm had tattoos from her shoulder to her elbow, and they were a mix of chemical elements and computer parts that, somehow, worked together in all black and white. Kara got just a few glimpses of the tattoos on her side - something that looked like a cartoon character, another one that assembled a lake, a few words that Kara couldn’t read from that far - but that was enough to make her lick her lips and try to picture what else was there. There were no tattoos on her chest area, that Kara could see, but there was a small musical chord on the left side of her neck, and Kara wondered if she had any tattoos on her legs. She couldn't see them from where the woman was standing behind the counter, and something dragged her feet forward before she could stop herself.

"H-hi," she choked out and her face immediately heated up with embarrassment. Her sister would call it 'gay panic' and make fun of her for three days, and Kara was suddenly very thankful for being alone. "I, uh..." The woman blinked, Kara mimicked her, and lost every coherent thought inside her head. "Jack."

The woman arched one perfect eyebrow, resting her hands flat against the counter, and Kara’s blue eyes were suddenly very interested in the long fingers spread over some papers. The papers, she noticed as a second thought, were unfinished drawings, but she could hardly tell what they were. Feeling her face get even hotter, Kara demanded that her eyes moved up and she was almost proud of herself when they paused for only a second at the woman’s cleavage. Of course, as soon as her eyes met the woman’s face again, she had a tiny smirk like she knew Kara was having a hard time being in the same space as her.

"I'm sorry, love," she said and Kara noticed an accent behind the last word, like she had spent years trying to get rid of it but still couldn't brush it off some words. "Jack doesn't work here on Tuesdays."

Oh. Well, that's a bit of a relief, Kara wasn't going to lie. No Jack, no tattoo, and she still could say she tried. She still wanted to say ‘hi’ but...

"Can I help you instead?"

Oh, boy. Kara almost turned around and ran away right then and there because the things she was thinking this stranger could help her with were kind of mortifying. Instead, Kara bit her bottom lip so hard that it went numb instantly, and leaned forward until she was resting her hands in front of the woman's fingers. She dared to glance down really quick, just to find out the woman was wearing black jeans and boots, before she looked up again - with a quick stop at the cleavage because good lord.

"I don't know, I..." Kara couldn’t even say her own name if the woman asked at that moment, let alone remember what she was doing there and where there even was.

The woman chuckled then. A deep, husky sound from the back of her throat that brought a small smile to her lips, and then she ducked her head - as though she had no idea that was the most blinding smile Kara had ever seen in her twenty-six years of living. Neither the chuckle nor the smile was mockingly, and her green eyes were just a little bit amused when she looked back at Kara.

"Don't get me wrong but... you don't look like the type of person that would get a tattoo."

Okay, what is it with people just assuming Kara is too boring to do something? Kara took a look at her own clothes. She wasn't even wearing a sweater that day! Sure, beige trousers and a blue button up hardly screamed "living on the edge" but come on! Was it the glasses? Alex always said she should use contact lenses, but she liked the glassed!

Feeling a new wave of determination, Kara set up her jaw and crossed her arms. "Well, that's exactly what I came here to do."

The woman raised both eyebrows now, clearly amused. "To get a tattoo?" She asked like there was any other reason for Kara to be inside a tattoo shop on a Tuesday night.

So Kara nodded, her blonde hair wiggling from side to side on her ponytail, and straightened up her back like she was about to enter a fight. Not that she ever fought before, not even when the cruel kids at her new school would call her weird and push her inside her locker. Alex would beat them up for her, so she didn’t have to, it was fine.

"Yes," she said and her voice only trembled for a second. "To get a tattoo," she confirmed like there was any other reason for her to be inside a tattoo shop on a Tuesday night.

"Okay," the woman said, clicking her tongue once before she picked up a pen from the desk, a smirk permanently spread on her lips. "Do you have any idea of what you want?"

Shit. Kara hadn’t gone that far. Maybe not even her own brain thought she would do it because she had neglected the most important part of the entire process. She had no idea what she wanted permanently marked on her skin.

(Permanently marked also sent a thousand of red lights inside her head because, you know, it was permanent)

It must have shown on her face because the woman’s smirk became more of a smile, not exactly gentle but not mockery either. "What's your name?"

"Kara." She was so glad her brain hadn’t come up with something ridiculous to say. She could remember when she met her cousin's sister-in-law and answered the same question with "mashed potatoes" for some reason she would never be able to grasp. Lucy never let her forget that embarassing moment.

"Well, Kara," and Holy Goddess of all the universe and beyond, how could her name roll out of her lips like that? "why don’t you take a look at the drawings we have here, see if you like one. If you don't, we can always come up with something for you."

She then pushed some heavy black portfolio across the counter towards Kara and opened the leather front cover to show her the first drawing. They were all separated by plastic, and she started the task of turning the pages while trying very hard to look at the drawings and not at the woman in front of her. She wasn't sure because she wouldn’t dare to look up, but she could feel green eyes staring at her and her blush returned full force.

"So..." she heard after a couple of minutes in silence. "What kind of dare you lost?"

Kara took full offense on that, glaring at her for a moment before going back to the portfolio. She had gotten on the dragon section and decided to skip it all together. "There was no dare."

The woman hummed, watched her for another minute, and then leaned over with her forearms touching the counter. She reached out, taking the plastic from Kara's fingers, and started skipping the pages until they reached the flowers. Kara looked up, catching a glimpse of the woman's arm, before meeting green eyes with a light glare.

The woman shrugged. "You look like a flower kind of girl."

"What else do I look like to you?" Kara mumbled back and stubbornly went back to the drawing she was seeing before - the ships and anchors section - even though she left a finger marking the flowers page.

The brunette seemed even more amused now, barely able to hide her smile, and she chuckled once when Kara turned the page to see another ship. "Like you randomly decided to get a tattoo because someone pissed you off."

Kara tried not to give her the satisfaction of being right, deciding to focus on studying every ship and every anchor. She heard another chuckle, but the woman wisely didn’t push the subject.

"You could save us a lot of time by just going to the flowers."

Fine, maybe she was right about that too. Kara would never pick a ship, or a dragon, or a coffee cup, or any other drawing she saw before. Although Kara never thought what type of drawing she would get tattooed. With a sigh, she went back to the flowers, throwing the woman a dirty look when she huffed a laugh.

"Hey," she said, raising her hands in playful defense, "if I'm going to do something that you will regret tomorrow, at least let me help."

"Aren't you going to try to talk me out of this?" Kara asked, remembering when Jack asked Nia five times if she was sure before touching her skin with the needle.

"No," another shrug. "I will get my money and you will get the regret. Works fine by me."

Kara scoffed and shook her head, but finally spotted something she liked. It was a rose, not larger than a paper ball, black and white with a few leafs to the side. She was almost pointing that one out when she heard a deep sigh and looked up. The brunette was staring down at the drawing with enough judgment that Kara changed her mind in a blink.

"What?" She still asked because it was a beautiful flower.

"Nothing, it's just... does that even mean something to you?"

Kara looked back at the rose and frowned. "I like roses," she defended herself.

"I like kale, but I won’t tattoo that."

"You like kale?" Kara didn’t mean to sound so disgusted by it but it was stronger than her. Her face twisted in a grimace, shocked more than anything.

The other woman laughed a real laugh this time, and Kara felt the sound into her xcvery core. "Please, don't ask me to tattoo a burger on you. You're too pretty for that."

It was like she knew exactly what those words would do to Kara because she winked right after, making her blush ten times more. "What do you suggest, then?"

The tattooed brunette smiled and tapped her finger on top of the rose. "If you liked this one, it's fine, but I would go with..." She let her voice die as she started turning the pages until she found what she was looking for. "This one."

Kara looked at the drawing and was immediately sold to the idea. It wasn't just any flower. It was a plumeria. Well, two plumerias side by side, with a few leafs to the sides and a mandala carefully placed behind them like it was the third flower. She knew she wanted that one the second her eyes landed on it.

"It would look good on you," she kept talking. "I wouldn’t add any color, though." Kara kept nodding although she was only half paying attention now that she had found the right one. Her silence must have sent twisted signals because the woman’s voice became softer. "I know I said I wouldn’t try to talk you out of this but... are you sure?"

Kara’s eyes moved up then, metting slightly concerned green eyes, and she smiled. "Yes. I'm sure."

The woman studied her face for a few seconds before she nodded once. "Okay, then. Where do you want it?"

Shit.

The panic on her face told her out again and the woman’s laugh filled the space around them like a melody. "Come on, we can figure it out inside."

‘Inside’ being a closed room very similar to the one Nia had gotten her tattoo, albeit it was clear that that one wasn't Jack's. First, it lacked the smell of cigars and heavy cologne that Kara smelled last time and made her nose itch. But it also held a more personal touch like more drawings and a few words scribbled on the black walls. Kara didn’t feel nervous while the woman turned the sign from open to close, explaining that she was the only one who worked on Tuesdays' nights. She also didn’t feel nervous when she entered the room and spotted the comfortable chair she would be sitting on. What made her nervous again was taking her shirt off so she could decide where she wanted the plumerias to be.

She placed the printed drawing on several parts of both of her arms, her shoulders and asked the brunette to hold it at some spots on her back as well. But Kara was only satisfied when she put the paper against the right side of her ribs, a few centimeters below her bra. The woman gave her a knowing look and arched one eyebrow when she said that was the place she wanted her tattoo.

"Are you sure? It can be quite a painful area to get a tattoo, especially if it's your first one."

Again, she wasn't making fun of Kara and she appreciated it, but she also wasn't going to change her mind. "I'm sure."

"Okay. I will put the outlines, then."

It was only when the brunette had her hands against her side and her face a few inches from her chest that Kara realized she didn’t even know who she was. "Hey, I, uh, I didn't catch your name before."

Green eyes glanced up, bright and slightly amused, before they returned to the task of perfectly positioning the flowers on her ribs. "Lena."

"Lena," Kara found herself echoing the name in a whisper before she could stop herself. Lena looked up again, even more amused than before, and Kara felt herself blushing. "It... it suits you."

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Lena smiled and tilted her head to the side. "Thanks." She pushed back the stool she was sitting on. "Take a look at the mirror and see if that's what you want."

Kara took a step closer to see her reflection and tried very hard to ignore the fact that she was standing in front of a stranger in her bra. The plumerias were exactly what she wanted and exactly where she wanted them, and she said that to Lena, who told her to lay down after turning the chair into an improvised bed. While Kara tried to find a comfortable place to lay, she heard Lena slipping on rubber gloves and moving a few things around before approaching her again. She was half expecting her to ask one more time if she was sure, but Lena said nothing when she touched her skin with the black gloves, and raised the needle to her eyes level to make sure it was ready to go.

Kara wasn’t sure if the shivers were from nervousness, the chill air of the room, or the fact that this very attractive woman was touching her just below her breast, but she did her best to ignore it. Lena had pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, Kara realized, and she could see her sharp jawline more easily now. She also spotted five different piercings on the woman’s right ear. For a second, she wondered if Lena could feel her heart beating under her skin or if she could maybe even hear it.

"Be ready for some pain, but try not to move," Lena said while she lowered the needle to her skin. "It will take longer if you keep moving. You also don't want me to fuck this up," she offered Kara a smile to let her know she was joking - at least that's what the blonde hoped for. "Tell me if you need a break."

So, Lena wasn't lying when she said it would hurt. Nia neglected to tell her about the painful part and Kara would make her pay for it by typing down her next article, but, holy crap, it hurt. The first touch of the needle made her jump and hiss, and Lena pulled it away like she knew it was going to happen, giving her a few seconds to recover.

"Sorry," Kara whispered once her body relaxed again.

"It's fine," the brunette mumbled back, totally concentrated on her job now.

It went like that for a few minutes - Kara squeezing her eyes shut, biting her lips, clutching the sides of the chair slash bed, and hissing under her breath whenever she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Until she started to get used to the pain and allowed herself to focus on other things. Her eyes trailed to the few drawings hanging on the walls, taking in the delicate traces and the lack of colors from all of them. She decided that talking would help her with the pain.

"Jack said his boss makes those drawings," she commented lightly.

There was a brief pause before Lena answered her. "That would be me."

"Oh," the blonde breathed out in shock. "So, you..."

"I'm the owner, yes." There was another pause while Lena cleaned her skin with a soft paper. "I used to work for a tattoo artist back in Metropolis before I decided to open my own business. Jack followed me."

"Well, you certainly have talent. Your drawings are beautiful."

"On paper," Lena teased and Kara didn’t need to look at her to know she was smirking. "Let's see how it translate to your skin."

Kara wanted to play along and tell her to ‘please, don't make something awful that would be permanently marked on my skin’, but she found herself saying something entirely different. "Plumerias were my mom's favorite flowers. My dad would bring them to her every Saturday after work because those were the first flowers he ever gave her." She could still remember her father getting back home on Saturdays right before lunch with a bouquet in his hand to her mom and a box of chocolate for her, all smiles and offering hugs. If she tried hard enough, Kara could still remember the smell of her mom's stew mixed with the flowers' smell, could still taste the chocolate. "They died almost fifteen years ago."

Kara had no idea why she was sharing those things with this stranger wearing black rubber gloves and breathing too close to her ribs, but she also couldn't stop. Maybe it was a tattoo thing, like sharing too much about your relationships while cutting your hair.

Lena didn’t shy away, though. She made sure their eyes were locked before saying, "Let's make sure those are perfect, then," and went back to work.

Kara felt herself relaxing more after that, although she didn’t say anything else for a few minutes. "I work as a reporter to a magazine," she found herself saying. "My boss is... both of them are impossible to deal with. I dream about throwing them into space sometimes, but... I love my job. One of them is the reason I'm here today."

"Who should I be thanking?"

Kara blushed one more time, even if she wasn't sure it was said to be flirtatious or if she was just imagining it. "Cat means well, she just... push some buttons sometimes."

"Well," Lena stopped her movements to look at Kara again, this time with a soft smile. "I will be sending this Cat some flowers anyway."

The blonde chuckled at that. "Go back to work. I don't want to end up with a dragon on my ribs."

Lena hummed, eyes dropping back to the outlines of the flowers and needle touching skin again. "I wouldn’t draw a dragon on you," she contemplated. "You're more of an iguana kind of girl."

Kara gasped in faked offense and turned her head to fully stare at Lena with narrowed eyes. "How dare you? You know nothing about me!"

The tattoo artist shrugged, not bothered by her explosion. "Maybe a kitty." Kara huffed and puffed, letting her body fall back on the chair, and did her best to keep frowning. "Definitely a kitty," she heard Lena whispering under her breath, playfully and amused, and Kara was soon smiling. "So... will your boyfriend approve this?"

"Are you fishing for information about me?" Kara teased.

"Huh," Lena sighed. "You didn’t sound this confident when you were stumbling over your words when you first saw me."

She was sure her entire body turned pink with that and she mumbled weakly that: "I was nervous about getting a tattoo."

"Yes, of course," Lena replied and Kara blushed again.

"No boyfriend," she ended up replying because the other alternative was to dig a bigger hole to herself. "Or a girlfriend."

She was ready for another teasing from the other woman, but Lena pulled back instead and eyed her tattoo with her head tilted to the side. "I need you to hold your breath for a few seconds, okay? I'm getting to a delicate part and it would be better if you hold it for, like, ten seconds."

Kara nodded and got ready to pull in a breath to hold it while Lena got her needle ready to go again. When the other woman said so, Kara took in a large intake of breath but, as soon as the needle touched her again, she exhaled in surprise when the pain shot to every nerve in her body.

"I know," Lena said. "It's the hardest part. I promise to be done with it as fast as possible. Can we try again?"

There weren't many options since Kara was already in the middle of getting her tattoo done, so she nodded and waited for the new signal. Kara grabbed the chair with both of her hands, pressed her eyes tightly shut, bit her bottom lip and held her breath for the longest ten seconds of her life before Lena tapped her skin and pulled away with a smile.

"There," she declared in her husky tone. "Good girl."

It was embarrassing how those two words made Kara react. She gasped, the breath still stuck in her lungs almost causing her to choke, and her entire body went stiff when a shiver left goosebumps all over her skin on its way down her spine. She couldn't see Lena and that was a blessing because she could feel the pause that her reaction gave the brunette. So, maybe that was a weird way to find out a praise kink, Kara decided while praying that Lena would brush it as a perfectly normal reaction to have.

"That was interesting," Lena whispered and, this time, the blonde knew she wasn't supposed to have heard that.

The blonde bit her bottom lip so hard that she could feel the taste of blood and she was totally sure that Lena could hear how fast her heart was beating. She could probably feel it, and, God, that was so embarrassing. Kara had half a piece of mind to just pull back her shirt, leave and never go back there, but the other woman didn’t give her time to react before she was once more piercing her skin with the needle. It was still painful, although the mortification she felt numbed it a little bit.

Lena didn’t sound so cocky when she spoke again and she even had to clear her throat so the words would come out less hoarse and more audible. “Just a while longer and we will be done. Can you handle it or should we finish it another day?”

Kara didn’t trust herself to ever come back – and not just because of what had just happened but also because she didn’t think she would be brave enough to get any tattoo needle to ever touch her again. So, she exhaled slowly and nodded. Lena went back to the draw immediately after that and they fell in a half comfortable silence until the trickiest part was over. Or, at least, that’s what Kara thought the trickiest part was because it hurt like hell and Lena had this crinkle between her brows when she glanced back that made her look... cute. Even with the tattoos and the five different piercing sets on her ears, the black clothes, the black room and her undeniable confidence.

It wasn’t until Lena leaned away to get more ink that she spoke again. “Plumerias were very common where I lived.”

Kara thought back on their conversation and wondered aloud, “Metropolis?”

“Ireland,” she corrected gently.

“Oh,” Kara breathed out and then hissed when the needle was back to her ribs.

“Not many people know I’m Irish, so I’m trusting you with this secret, Kara.”

She could hear the joke in the woman’s voice and Lena even poked her side playfully, and Kara heard herself giggling like a schoolgirl. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Lena declared with a huff. “Now you need to tell me a secret of yours.”

“What?”

“Yes, so we’re even and I can make sure you will never tell anyone what I just told you.”

“It’s not like you just confessed a murder,” Kara argued with an eye roll that was quite too fond to be directed to someone who she had met only two or three hours before.

Lena looked up for a second and their eyes met, making Kara’s face flush red. She was pulling a very uncomfortable position to keep her head raised and turned to the side so she could watch the other woman, and she had just been caught doing that one more time. “No? Well, you shouldn’t go to my office then.”

Kara hummed, trying to sound unimpressed by the joke while fighting back a laugh, and shrugged. “I knew it was weird I didn’t see Jack.”

The brunette let out a breathy chuckle, her hot breath hitting Kara’s side and making her shiver again, before she pursed her lips. “I see you’re too fond of Jack already.”

“Jealous?”

Lena quirked one dark eyebrow and gave her a look – the type of look that Kara tried to pull out her entire life while trying to look all sexy and misterious and was never able to do it – that made the blonde’s entire body warm up. “I’m the one poking your skin with a needle right now, so I think he should be the jealous one.”

Yes, Kara couldn’t keep up with that. She was weird, she rambled, she stuttered more times than not, and just, overall, was terrible at the whole flirting thing. Lena, on the other hand, seemed to be a master on it. Kara didn’t really stand a chance against it, not even for a second. She could try, pull out a word or a phrase here and there, but, in the end, Lena would find a way to leave her blushing and flustered so easily that made her head spin.

(She couldn’t be sure if Lena was just that good or if Kara was just super gay, but, whatever it was, it was working wonderfully)

“Now, come on, spill a secret,” Lena said after a long silence that stretched between them while they just stared at each other’s eyes.

Kara felt hypnotized by the green eyes and that was so unfair. So, damn, unfair. “I get my boss’ coffee order wrong every day.”

Lena stopped with the tattoo again to blink at her a couple of times in what seemed to be confusion. Then, she tilted her head to the side, glanced to the ceiling and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something. No sound came out, she closed her mouth again, and she looked so adorable that Kara felt her rambling coming to the surface again.

“Cat has this really complicated order at Starbucks that makes my head hurt just to think about. 3% fat, quarter milk, a spoon and a half of organic sugar, or whatever that is. It’s my job to get her coffee every morning and there’s no Starbucks close to my apartment, so I stop at another place called Noonan’s and get an order from there.” Lena still hadn’t said anything and Kara couldn’t bring herself to stop talking. “I used to work there, so I have a discount. I can buy a coffee for myself too with the same amount of money I would spend at Starbucks. And she never noticed it!”

There was a pause where Kara tried to come up with more things to say before a loud laugh cut the space around her. She looked at Lena with wide eyes and only slightly offended by her reaction, but the other woman was too busy laughing at her expense to notice it. The brunette used the back of her hand to cover her mouth while she shook her head and kept laughing freely.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said, waving her hand, before being interrupted by her own laugh. “It’s just... Fuck! That’s the worse thing you ever did in your life?” The tattoo artist looked at her again with her eyes crinkling at the sides and Kara felt her anger melting away.

“What? Did you expect a murder?”

“I was hoping that you would say you spit on her coffee, at least.”

Kara gasped. “I would never do that!”

Lena narrowed her eyes at her, a tiny smirk adorning her lips. “But you think about it, don’t you?”

“Every day,” she admitted with a groan, letting her head fall back against the chair.

The brunette laughed again and a cold hand came to rest against her thigh, making Kara’s body vibrate from head to toe. “I won’t tell your secret if you don’t tell mine.” Lena winked – winked – at her and Kara felt her throat too dry all of sudden. The woman chuckled again when the blonde gulped before she gently tapped the hard muscle of Kara’s thigh. “We’re done here.”

“Oh.” Kara blinked in surprise and her eyes immediately fell to her ribs. The skin was red and swollen, but she could see the delicate lines of the flowers and the leaves, and she was hit by the urge to cry all at once. She felt like a little girl again, being six or seven, and running to the door to meet her father, seeing the plumerias in his left hand and the chocolate on his right.

“Hey,” Lena called her gently, ducking her head to be able to catch the blue eyes again. “You're fine over there? I had people regretting tattoos before, but not so fast.”

Kara laughed and shook her head, trying to discreetly brush a tear from the corner of her eyes. “Everything is fine. It’s really beautiful.”

“Well, don’t say that before you take a better look,” Lena pushed her stool away and got up with a refreshed excitement. “Come on, stand up so you can look at it in the mirror.”

That’s what Kara did, sliding off the chair and walking with slightly trembling legs to the full body mirror that she had seen before. The fact that she still didn’t have her shirt on was in the back of her mind while her eyes traced the ink. It looked even better on her ribs than it looked on the paper and she made sure to tell the other woman that, earning a smile that she doubted she would ever be able to forget.

"Here." She turned around to see Lena's hand reaching out a piece of white chalk between her long fingers and sporting a kind of smile that Kara hadn’t seen on her yet - satisfied, the type of smile you give after accomplishing a task that meant something to you. "All of my clients have to write something on the walls. It's tradition," Lena shrugged in the end.

Kara’s eyes swept through the room again, taking in the black walls and words written in almost every inch available under a new light. There were small praises, thanks, some jokes and even a few doodles, and Kara wondered what she could write that could sum up her entire experience inside Lena's tattoo shop. She took the chalk more out of instinct, her brain still working on finding the right words, and Kara took a few steps around the room until she found the right place to write.

It was just below one of Lena's drawings that were hanging from a string, between a Scooby-Doo doodle and the message of someone saying they loved their new rose tattoo. Kara’s handwriting wasn't the best one - sloppy and crooked - and it looked even worse when she was trying to write on a wall, but she managed to write her first and last name to make it look readable. Then, she added her phone number under it and put the chalk inside the small box she found just beside her. Kara turned around making sure her body would cover what she had just written, suddenly feeling too nervous about it, and accepted the plastic foil paper Lena handed her.

"Remember to put on the ointment I told you about and keep it covered so it heals. It should be all healed in a week, tops. You're free to call if you have any doubts."

Lena led the way out of the room and they found themselves once again at the reception desk. Lena picked up the pen she had played with before and scribbled something on a piece of paper beside the computer while Kara reached out for her wallet in the pocket of her trousers. Their fingers brushed when she handed Lena the money and her face flushed red for the millionth time that night. Lena gave her a knowing smile before putting the money away and just like that they realized that they would part ways soon. A small part of Kara, primal and shameless, tried to come up with any reason that would make her stay for a while longer. Anything would do, really.

Even so, there was no reason for her to stay and Kara tried to mask her unjustified sadness by joining her hands in front of her body and forcing a smile to look real. “Thank you again.”

Lena waved a hand dismissively, the pen still hanging between two fingers, before her hand came to rest on top of the other one on the desk. “It was my pleasure.”

“If I regret it in the morning, I will come back with a vengeance,” Kara joked, swaying on her heels, and the laugh that came from the other woman was worth any type of regret she might end up having in the near future.

“As much as I would like to see you again, I would hate for that to be the reason you came back.”

Lena winked at her and Kara’s mouth hang open before she could stop herself. That made the brunette laugh in delight, made a deep blush rise from her neck to her cheeks, and Kara started taking steps back before she could embarrass herself anymore. Alex, Nia and all of their friends were right: she’s a gay disaster. None of them would be able to judge her if they just saw Lena though, of that she was sure.

Stumbling over one of the chairs, Kara let out a nervous laugh and, to her utter terror, she pointed finger guns at Lena. “Have, ah, have a good night, ma’am.”

She missed the door handle twice before she was able to open the door and, by the time she looked at Lena again, the other woman was smiling broadly at her. Ducking her head, Kara walked out the door and let it close behind her. Once the slightly chill air of the night hit her face, she closed her eyes and resisted the urge to hit herself for some very stupid decisions made inside that shop. She wondered if she would ever be able to live it down if any of her friends ever found out she just did finger guns at a beautiful woman as a way to say goodbye.

Well, to be fair, she wasn’t sure any of her friends would let her live it down when they found out about her very spontaneous tattoo.

God, Alex was going to kill her. Not for getting a tattoo, but for doing so without giving it enough thought. And, for Christ’s sake, Alex could be a real pain in the ass when she decided to lecture her for whatever reason it was. She was so not ready to deal with that.

It was only when she opened her eyes again that she realized she was still standing outside the tattoo shop – and that Lena could still very easily see her from her place behind the counter – and, with another blush, Kara pushed herself to start walking. Her apartment was only five more blocks down the street and she took that time to clear her mind from anything negative she was thinking about.

If her crazy and very unusual night taught her anything was that she had the thing inside her that could make her do some very adventurous things. She was capable of doing those things. Maybe randomly getting a tattoo wasn’t the ideal way to prove that to herself, but, damn, she had just renewed faith in herself.

Her poor attempts at flirting were the last thing on her mind when she pushed the door to her studio apartment open and stepped inside, making a beeline to where she had left her laptop earlier that day on the small kitchen table. She pulled a chair after turning the computer on and, reaching out for an apple inside the fruit bowl, she waited for the laptop to come to life so she could open a new file to start typing. She had an article to write, and a trip to plan.

 XxxxxxxX

 It was two days later – after Alex had scolded her for making decisions in a rush, after Nia took pictures of their tattoos side by side to post on her Instagram, after Querl had awkwardly given her a thumbs up, after James raised his eyebrows, after Winn yelped in shock – that something changed.

Kara was lazily reading something Nia had written so she could suggest some corrections before the girl submitted it to Snapper’s approval, when her phone buzzed from its place beside her mousepad – her rainbow mousepad, thanks to Winn. She picked it up, thinking it was Alex inviting her for lunch so she could yell at her a few more times, but the number who had texted her was an unsaved one. She frowned, but didn’t give it much thought before unlocking her screen to read it.

“Since you didn’t barge inside my shop to kill me, I take it that you didn’t regret it?”

The smile that curled her lips up came from within her and it was apparently too obvious because Nia, who was sitting across from her, gave her a weird look and arched one eyebrow in question. Kara shook her head, biting her bottom lip, and turned her chair around so the girl couldn’t see her anymore before typing a reply.

“I never said I was going to kill you.”

“The threat was clear to me,” came the next text just a few seconds later and Kara chuckled to herself.

“Please, don’t tell me you were scared.”

“Why do you think it took me two days to reach out?”

Kara paused at that. She had spent the last two days being sure that, despite their easy flirt with each other, Lena didn’t actually want to talk or see her again. So, to have her texting her now was really... reawakening something inside her.

“Who are you texting?”

Kara jumped on her chair, startled by Nia’s voice so close to her ear all of sudden, her phone almost slipping from her fingers and crashing on the floor. Thankfully, her reflexes were still working and she was able to grab it, but not without throwing a glare at Nia for scaring her like that. The girl gave her a sheepish smile, although she shrugged and didn’t back away from where she had perched on the corner of Kara’s desk to look over her shoulder.

“No one,” came the childish, and not at all convincing, reply and Kara didn’t need to look at her friend again to know she was busted. Now Nia was not going to let it down.

“Really? Because you have been smiling to your phone for five minutes and you just smile like that when Alex says she’s bringing extra potstickers for game night.” Nia smirked and leaned over, trying to read the texts again, but Kara quickly pressed the phone against her chest to block her view.

“Alex just invited me for lunch,” Kara attempted to throw her off.

However, Nia arched her eyebrows. “Really? Because I just texted Kelly asking her to go to that vegan place with me and she said she already has plans.” A pause. “With Alex.” Another pause. “For lunch.”

Kara groaned and turned her chair so she was facing her computer again, slipping her phone screen down on the table. “Fine, it wasn’t Alex, but I’m not going to say anything.”

“Okay.” Her friend gave up way too faster than usual and Kara watched her with narrowed eyes as the girl jumped from her desk to turn the corner back to her own cubicle. Nia was about to sit down when she tried to snatch Kara’s phone away with one surprisingly fast move, but the blonde was even faster, taking it out of her reach in the last second. “Damn.”

Kara rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, throwing it over her shoulders and slipping her phone inside one of the pockets, and threw an overly sweet, clearly fake, smile at Nia. “Now you will have to eat alone because I won’t have lunch with you either.”

Nia stuck her tongue out at her. “I will call Querl!”

Kara waited until she was safely inside the elevator before opening her texts again. There were three more texts since the last time she looked and a smile immediately spread over her face when she read them.

“Okay, I confess, I was a little nervous.”

“You still there? You didn’t change your mind, did you?”

“About the tattoo, not the... leaving your name and number on my wall thing.”

She barely noticed when someone entered the elevator a few floors below, too focused on replying to the texts.

“You? Nervous? You don’t look like the type of girl that gets nervous. And no, I didn’t change my mind about any of those things, actually.”

A new text only came after she was already walking down the street to Noonan’s, but she wrote a quick text to invite Winn for lunch before opening Lena’s text.

“I’m also not the type to text any of the numbers left on my walls. And good.”

“Do you get a lot of numbers on your walls?” Kara asked and she had to make a conscious effort to cross the street to Noonan’s instead of walking straight for a few more blocks to the tattoo shop. She could picture Lena leaning against the counter with her gorgeous smirk and her impressive tattoos – and even more impressive cleavage.

“Jack enjoys them more than I do.”

Kara was about to make a comment about Jack but another text came in before she could and she stopped in her tracks so suddenly that the man walking behind her shoved against her shoulder. She tripped over a few steps, but quickly held herself again to read the words over and over in disbelief. She hoped, of course, but that was... wow.

“I don’t want to be too straightforward here, or overly confident or something, but I have a client coming in five minutes, so I don’t have much time. This won’t sound romantic at all, but would you like to have dinner with me? Tomorrow?”

Kara didn’t have to think too much about her answer, of course. Alex would give her a piece of her mind for agreeing to go out with someone she barely knew – and ‘that’s the whole point of going out to meet people’ was not a good argument on her sister’s book – but Kara would deal with it later. Right now, she had a very gorgeous woman asking her out and she already knew what her answer would be.

“I would love to.”

“What? Really?” Kara chuckled at the rushed text she received back, but another one came just a second later. “Pretend you didn’t read that. I meant ‘okay, great!’.”

Chuckling again, Kara typed a new message. “I know you were the one who asked me out, but may I suggest a place? I don’t have a car and it’s close to both of our workplaces.”

“Whatever you want, just text me address. Let’s say, tomorrow at 7 pm?”

“Can’t wait.”

 XxxxxxxX

 “Hey, Kara?”

“Yes?” She asked, not taking her eyes away from her computer screen and typing away as fast as she could to be able to put all the ideas in her new article. She had never written like that before, but she wasn’t about to complain about small inspirations spikes.

“The front desk called and said there’s a pack for Cat downstairs. Can you pick it up?”

With a small sigh, not because she was mad at Winn for interrupting her but because she would have to go all out of the way to pick a pack she didn’t even know was going to come in, Kara saved her file and pushed her chair back. Nia glanced up and was about to remove her earphones, ready to follow Kara to whatever she was going to learn more about the journalism world, but the blonde made some gestures with her hand that she hoped meant ‘boring things, stay here’ before she started making her way to the elevator.

Jenny, the woman that stayed at the front desk, was kind, around Eliza’s age, and very chatty, which worked fine with Kara when she wanted to waste a few minutes talking along. “Good morning, Kara! How are you?”

“I’m great, Jenny. And you?”

“I’m fine. What happened? I recognize that smile.”

Kara tilted her head to the side, although she couldn’t stop smiling, doesn’t matter how hard she was trying. “What smile?”

Jenny narrowed her eyes and waved a finger at her playfully. “That’s the smile of someone who had a very good night.”

The blonde could feel her face heating up and a nervous chuckle escaped her lips before she could stop herself. She had been leaning against the counter, but she leaned her torso back and tapped her fingers against the hard surface nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” Jenny scoffed, rolled her eyes and started pulling out the packages that she would need to take upstairs with her. There was a yellow thing that was sent by one of the photographers of the last shooting they made, some letters and a few small boxes, which made Kara believe Jenny had been holding those things with her for at least a few days. Cat hadn’t asked for any of that, so it wasn’t a problem. “Don’t tell me then. You don’t have to. Is all over your face.”

Blushing even harder, Kara huffed an anxious laugh and looked down at the counter. She put one hand on her hip as the other one raised to push her glasses up her nose, but she kept her eyes down to avoid seeing the smirk on Jenny’s face. She would have to agree with her, if she did. Because she knew it was, in fact, written all over her face. She hadn’t been able to stop smiling since she woke up that morning – who was she kidding? It had been like that since dinner last night.

It had a reason – and the reason had a name – but she was not going to share any personal details about her life with Jenny. The old woman had the tendency to share everyone’s secrets – which was another reason Kara liked to talk with her so much, but she would never admit to being a gossip girl. She did tell Nia, mostly because her friend wouldn’t stop asking why Kara was fifteen minutes late that morning, though she had made the girl promise not to tell anyone.

It was still pretty new, she had argued.

“If you two slept together, it’s not that new,” Nia had teased back, making her face turn red so fast that James, that had been coming back from the bathroom, asked if she was feeling well.

Even if the whole ‘sleeping together on the first date’ thing was new to her, Kara hadn’t regretted it in the morning. Much like the tattoo. Although, it would be remarkably harder to regret sleeping with Lena when the said woman was spooning her from behind than it was to regret a tattoo that recquired a lot of afterward care. Either way, Kara was living the best morning in her life and it clearly showed on her face.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who’s having a great time.” Jenny’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts and Kara looked up in time to see the woman pulling a big bouquet from under the counter.

The flowers looked cheap and scruffy, which made it seem like someone had just thrown them together without much care. They were yellow and pink daisies, the colors clashed and didn’t work well together, but the card hidden between the flowers was black and easy to see. She knew she shouldn’t because it had her boss’ name outside the card and it was clearly not for her to see, but curiosity took the best of her – that and the fact that the card had been clearly already open, and by Jenny’s face she knew who had done it.

“Thank you – L”

Well, that wasn’t helpful at all.

Sighing and feeling silly for stealing a look, she put the card back and started to try to find a way to pick everything she needed to take back with her. She knew there was a small cart some other companies in the building used to transport stocks and other products, but she was sure she could use her hands if she just pilled everything right. Kara had just come up with a plan when Jenny spoke again.

“There’s also this one. It doesn’t have a card, but it came with the bouquet. Same delivery. The guy couldn’t say anything about it, but I’m sure we can find something if we call the shop and...”

“I think there’s no need,” Kara interrupted gently, without looking up from the growing pile in one of her hands, but she raised her head eventually.

Only to lose track of every thought she was having.

Jenny had put a single plumeria on top of the counter. As the woman had said, there was no card or any type of identification – who it came from or who was supposed to receive it – but Kara connected the dots quite easily. Smiling, she reached over to grab the simple flower and brought it closer to her face to smell it.

“Oh, I see.”

“I have to go!” Kara said suddenly, knowing everyone in the building would know she had just randomly smelled a flower at the front desk that morning. “See you, Jen!”

The look on Cat’s face when Kara gave her the bouquet, not offering any other explanation othan than that there was a card attached to it, was worth every step on the stairs she had to walk up, holding the woman’s coffee every morning. As soon as she was back to her desk, Kara pulled her phone from her pocket and sent a text before Nia could start asking any questions.

“Thought you said that you’re not good with romance.”

The reply didn’t come right away, Kara ended up putting her phone to the side and went back to work. However, as soon as it rang beside her, she grabbed it.

“Guess we’re both learning new things about ourselves. Want to have lunch together?”

And, yes, she totally did.

[vosh-rakh]

a date

“What is this?” Boethiah asked, prodding at the black-grey thing on her plate with a knife.

“What?” called back Trinimac from the other end of the very long table.

“I said,” Boethiah shouted, “What is this?”

“It’s steak,” hollered Trinimac. “I cooked it myself. You know what steak is, right?”

“I’ve heard of it. It doesn’t look like this.”

The room they were in was so bright Boethiah had to squint to see anything at all. The walls dripped with grandiosity, pale white and gold, decorated with finely etched geometric patterns. The floor was a deep, lush carpet of red and gold, squares set out at regular intervals. The table - carved from some unknown golden tree - filled almost the entire room, draped with a cloth woven from gold, and topped with golden plates, dishes, bowls, and platters. Only the silverware wasn’t gold. Everything else was, and Boethiah hated it.

“Yes, it does,” said Trinimac, watching her intently. Without his helmet, she could see his wretched golden eyes for once, a rare occurrence. “Now eat.”

Boethiah puzzled over the cutlery arrayed before her. She didn’t understand why she needed anything other than a knife. She delicately picked up the spoon for a moment, awkwardly held between forefinger and thumb, and looked up to see Trinimac’s reaction. He frowned and shook his head. She then gripped the silver spoon with her entire fist. Another shake. So she began to hit the steak with the spoon like it was a mace, scattering dark char from the meat.

“Stop!” cried Trinimac, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You only need a fork and knife, Boethiah.” 

Boethiah scoffed but laid down the spoon on the tablecloth. She took up the fork and knife, using the former to awkwardly hold down the steak as she began to cut into it. Once the knife hit the plate, she lifted up the portion with the fork and examined it.

“It’s not bleeding,” she said. “What is this? Is it some kind of poison?”

“It’s not bleeding because it’s cooked well.” Trinimac took a bite of his own steak, chewing before continuing. “And no, it’s not poison. It’s steak. Why would I poison you?”

“Because you hate me, of course!” Boethiah laid down the fork and meat, but gripped the knife tightly.

Trinimac sighed. “I don’t hate you, Boethiah. Please just eat.”

“This isn’t right. Why aren’t we fighting?”

“Because you promised me one normal evening.”

“But conflict is normal. It’s in our natures.”

“An evening without fighting. You know what I mean. A...date.” Trinimac avoided looking directly at Boethiah as he said this, hoping she didn't see the golden tint rising under his cheeks.

“A date?” Boethiah pretended not to understand, but she did, and couldn’t keep the fire from lighting under her own cheeks. She had heard of the concept before - an invention of Dibella’s. 

“Yes,” said Trinimac, now more sure of himself, but still averting his eyes. “A date.”

“I see,” said Boethiah, frowning. “...Am I winning?”

“What?”

“Am I winning the date?”

Trinimac covered his face with his hands. “It’s not something you win, Boethiah.”

“Of course it is, it must be. Everything is. And I’m going to win.” She squirmed in her seat a bit. Trinimac peeked through his fingers, and thought maybe she was feeling bashful, too.

But then the knife started flying. Trinimac barely had time to react, earning a cut on his cheek as he dodged to the side.

“What in…” he began, but was cut off by Boethiah jumping up on the table and rushing towards him. He only just had time to stand up by the time she arrived, tackling him to the ground and knocking his chair over.

Boethiah pressed her knees into his chest and started pummeling Trinimac, who crossed his arms in front of his face. “Boethiah! Stop!” he cried, but she just smirked and continued her assault.

Finally Trinimac managed to get a grip on Boethiah and overthrew her, rolling over and pinning her down by the wrists. “You promised!” Trinimac shouted. “No fighting!” 

“What’s a promise for, but to be broken?” she spat back at him, still grinning from ear to ear. 

“I just wanted to do something nice for you, for once! I thought maybe you wanted the same!”

“We obviously don’t want the same things. Why be nice to me? What a waste.”

“Because I like you, Boethiah!”

“Like me?” she echoed, laughing. “Who could like me?”

“Me, evidently,” Trinimac said, blushing, seeming to regret it.

Boethiah stopped laughing. “Why?”

“Because…” Trinimac grasped for words. “We’re very similar, you and I. Despite all our differences. It’s superficial. Deep down, we’re like each other. And so I like you like I like myself.”

“You don’t like yourself.” Boethiah had long since stopped squirming by this point, allowing Trinimac to sit on her, holding onto her wrists.

“...I like you like I wished I liked myself.”

“Why?” she asked again. “Why like me? Why be kind to me?”

“I already said…” Trinimac began.

“I don’t deserve it,” Boethiah whispered, almost too faint to hear. Even in her armor, her wrists begin to feel insubstantial under Trinimac’s hands.

“Why would you say that?” Trinimac asked, leaning closer to Boethiah’s face.

“You say it all the time. I’m flickering. Inconstant. Malicious.”

“I don’t really…”

“But don’t you mean it, though? Don’t you? Or is it just words he puts in your mouth?”

Trinimac tensed, his grip hardening. “I do and say what I do and say of my own accord.”

“What lies you tell yourself.”

“Disregard what I say. You know I don’t mean it. Why else would you feel that way?”

Boethiah’s fiery red eyes looked deep into Trinimac, past him. Her wrists became even less substantial. Trinimac understands.

“You don’t deserve that,” he said, releasing a wrist to caress her face. She recoiled at first, but numbly allowed it. “You deserve so much better.”

“Why should you be so kind to me?” Boethiah snapped, her eyes coming back into focus for a moment. “When you’re just another of the fools, and I’m just…” Her eyes ran away again.

“You’re not,” Trinimac interrupted, preempting her self-insult. “You’re not.” 

“Just shut up,” Boethiah said. She used her now-free hand to grab Trinimac by the neck and pull him into a kiss. And Trinimac knew her a little better. But still not well enough.

[the-angriestpineapple]

liability // villain!sero hanta x femreader

Rating: Explicit Characters: (Villain) Sero Hanta Inspiration: My piece for the Citrus Dome Discord server’s Hero/Villain Redemption Collaboration. Okay listen, I love Sero Hanta and this boy does not nearly get enough credit for what a good boy he is. Get ready to thirst for a tape dispenser folks. Prompt:  You’re captured by a villain/hero. This is a double whammy! The character you pick must be written with the opposite alignment. So, if they are heroes, they must be portrayed as villains. If they are villains, they must be depicted as heroes. On top of that, you (reader) or they must try and corrupt or redeem the other character! Tags: Villain!Sero Hanta, bondage, shibari, overstimulation, oral, vaginal sex,  abuse, talk of sexual assault. (The last two are not Sero and only last like, a paragraph or two.) Word Count: ~6.4k Collab Masterlist here

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The museum was dead silent with the exception of your brush making slow, careful strokes on the painting you were working on. Of course, it was expected that it was dead silent. You were at work near in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that the restoration department was noisy during the day, but there was always some sort of audio. Someone talking, other people working, someone sipping tea. And for this specific piece, you wanted absolute silence to concentrate. Not even music. Dead silence. It was the first time you’d found a piece by your absolute favorite artist and you had begged to be the one to restore it. But in order to concentrate as much as you felt you needed to, there had to be no noise. So you’d gotten permission to stay late, after the museum closed. And you were grateful. This was going to be the absolute highlight of your career. You pause to dip your brush into the specialty varnish remover and hear a noise. You pause, and glance at the clock. It wasn’t time for the security guard to make the rounds. You immediately feel on edge. No one else is supposed to be here. Maybe… maybe something just fell over in the artifact room.  You grab your cell phone, trying not to think about how utterly impossible that is, and turn on your flashlight app. You exit your offices in the restoration department and head to the next door, where the artifacts not currently on display are held. It’s possible that the security guard made rounds early. Likely more possible than something falling over. Especially since the door to the artifact room is ajar. You’d go in, see the guard, and then maybe it was time to head home. You make it only a handful of steps in before you hear something that sounds vaguely familiar, and you’re quickly wrapped in some kind of tape. You immediately struggle but lose your balance, falling to the ground. Your phone skids away from you and slides directly under a shelf. You stare at the spot in dismay and when someone speaks up behind you, you freeze at the voice.

“Hm. This won’t do. Intel said there’s only one security guard and I already took care of him.” A booted foot pushes on your bound torso to roll you over. You look up, and your captor’s eyes widen the same time that yours does. He breathes out your name in surprise. Immediate glee rises in you. He recognizes you. Sero Hanta, love of your life from middle school, recognizes you all these years later. But that giddy schoolgirl elation is shoved down when you remember that he’s a villain and is obviously here to steal from your museum. His mouth curls into a grin just as yours falls to a frown. “What are you doing here, Sero?” Not that you don’t already know. Your museum might not be the Tokyo National Museum, but it held some pretty priceless artifacts. “I would think that’s obvious, if you recognize me. How have you been?” His head tilts to the side and your frown deepens. “You look good.” I look good? Part of you feels your heart skip at the compliment. Part of you flares up in indignation, wondering how he has the absolute gall to say that to you when you’re bound from shoulders to hips in tape, on the floor of your place of work that he’s about to rob. Though if you’re behind completely honest, he looks good too. You’d always been partial to his angular face and wide smile, but now he had lean, powerful looking muscles. His hair was still long but pulled back, and the underside of his head shaved. His outfit was a parody on his hero costume, a skin-tight body suit of mostly black with white and yellow accents. He didn’t wear a helmet anymore, but did have a black face mask. Like the kind you wore when you were sick. He had an air of confidence around him that was undeniably attractive. But you guessed that one would become a bit arrogant with as many successful heists as he’s pulled off. He’d never been caught once, even though he had former classmates that were specifically looking to take him down. And now here you were, throwing a wrench in and possibly fucking it all up. As far as you knew Sero had never actually murdered anyone, but there had been a lot of thefts with no witnesses. What if there were, and he just disposed of them? What if he did that to you? Your breath catches in your throat, and you flinch away from him when he crouches down. He still has that grin on his face. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to it and figure out what I’m gonna do with you later.” He taps your nose and rises again. “You’re just going to leave me here on the floor taped up like this?!” You start to struggle again, but his tape is strong. You can barely move.  “Afraid so,” he says with a sympathetic look. “This is an important heist, and I can’t have you fucking it up for me.” He starts perusing the various artwork. You’re not sure if he is looking for something in particular, since right now he looks more like he’s shopping than about to rob the place. You watch his movements carefully, cataloging all the pieces he touches. At least, that’s what you want to pretend you’re doing. You know that you’re watching the fluid motion of his muscles through his skin tight costume. The way his eyes light up at a particularly valuable piece. The wide, friendly smile that you remember from middle school is surely under that black mask. He’d been playfully teased by your classmates for that smile, but it had always made your heart flutter. Despite his looking, Sero doesn’t seem to be finding anything of interest. He’d even picked up some very expensive pieces before putting them back down. It doesn’t take long for your curiosity to get the better of you. “Um, are you looking for something in particular?” Sero looks at you with an expression of mild surprise. It’s only a split second though before the confident grin is back on. “Why, you willing to help me out?” His eyebrow raises and you flush a little.  “Of course not,” you fire back immediately. You’re just curious if he is looking for a certain item. There’s a few things that he can think of that he might be looking for. But Sero hasn’t turned away from you.  “You know, for a small museum this is a rather large room. You might just be useful to me.” He only now shifts back to continue to peruse through the paintings. “I am looking for a piece in particular, as you said. The original Hinakuawa pond painting. I saw that it was taken off display.” It’s a good thing he’d turned away from you, because he missed the moment of your eyes widening before you forced a neutral face. That painting was taken off display because it was on loan to another museum, one hours from here. “Ah. Lotus Daydream. Yes, that painting is kept in this room when it is not on display.” Luckily the bulk of your artwork was flat pieces, so this was the largest storeroom. Maybe you could keep Sero distracted while he searched for a painting that wasn’t there, until your security guard woke up and signaled the police – and the heroes – to come save you. It was as good of a plan as any, and considering your current predicament… the only plan you really had. He glances at you when you don’t willingly point out where it is, then shrugs and keeps looking himself. He doesn’t seem inclined to keep talking. The silence gets to you after a few minutes. “So, um… it’s been a long time. I… see you on the news a lot.” You wince inwardly. What a stupid start. But Sero doesn’t seem to think so apparently. He gives you a side smirk. “Yeah? You watching me on the news?” The teasing in his tone was obvious and you flush again. “You’re on it a lot, to be fair.” Which wasn’t incorrect. Sero Hanta was on the news a few times a week with another successful theft. He infuriated the police and the heroes, especially the ones who used to be his friends. “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” He winks at you and turns back to examining the artwork. I bet you are. The thought comes immediately, and your breath catches for a moment. It’s almost funny. The Sero you knew, that you had been hopelessly in love with, had been awkward. He smiled a lot, and he was laid back, but he didn’t have this confidence that seemed to be oozing out of this Sero. Your Sero had been lanky. Long-limbed and almost spider like. But his kindness and thoughtfulness had been what made you fall first. You had also been awkward, and very quiet. You didn’t even know if he’d known who you were. You’d been partnered with him for an English project once and you’d barely been able to communicate with him for it in person. He’d been so sweet and patient. And now… now he was the most notorious thief in Japan. With the body of a god and confidence of a rock star. It makes you squirm a little in your restraints. “And you, I didn’t expect to find anyone here, much less someone like you. Is it normal for you to work this late?” You know it’s probably just him trying to case the museum, to see where he made an error, but you shake your head anyway. “No, I was working on a piece that is very important to me.” You see an eyebrow raise, and hurry to continue. “Not Lotus Daydream. It’s another artist, one much smaller. It does not have a lot of monetary value, but he’s my favorite painter.” You get a soft look on your face when you think about it. Sero gives a tiny, indulgent smile. “Sounds important to you.” “Yeah, it is.”  “Any particular reason?” Hm. You can’t think of a good reason why he would ask that question to benefit him. And telling a story is going to take up time. You look away from Sero, focusing instead on an old painting of a rice paddy in the corner. “Well… I didn’t have a lot of contact with my father when I was younger. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I was able to talk to him at all. My mother hated him, and hated that I was just like him, so she kept me from him while telling me that he didn’t want to see me.” It didn’t bother you anymore. It did back then, but you now had good relationships with both of your parents. You’d forgiven your mother long ago. “My father is an art collector. Talking to him got me interested in it too, and my interest and skills landed me in an art restoration career.” You pause, looking up at Sero. He’s looking at you curiously. “That artist had a small exhibit near his house, and that was where my father took me as an outing the first time I’d seen him since I was five.” Sero tilts his head slightly as he digests this information. “Oh. Yeah, I can see why that’s important to you. So you didn’t have an interest in art in middle school? I always saw that you were reading, but I never saw what.” He leans against a glass case, now more focused on you than what he’s looking for. “No. I, um, I wasn’t very outgoing. I preferred to be in the back of the room with a book. I wasn’t teased or anything like that, and I was more or less happy. I just didn’t know how to talk to my classmates the way the popular kids did.” You give a small, wry chuckle. “It was even worse when it came to you, since I liked you.” What??? Your eyes shoot wide just as one of Sero’s brows raise. “You liked me?” He pulls his face mask down and now you can see as his wide mouth curls up into a grin. As much as you don’t want to dive into this topic, you do notice that all of his attention is now on you instead of the artwork surrounding you both. So you decide to play it up a little.  You lower your eyes for a moment before shyly looking up at him through your lashes and nodding. You still did, if you were being entirely honest, despite his criminal record. His grin widens even more and he pushes off the case, sauntering over to where you’re sitting. One elbow crooks and he shoots tape at the ceiling. It sticks around a beam and holds, and he tears it from his elbow only to shoot another from the other one. You’re silent as he hoists you up to a standing position and adheres the pieces to the tape on your back. Keeping you there on your tip toes, off the floor just enough that you couldn’t put your feet flat on the ground. “And you didn’t say anything back then? I would have been thrilled to know that you felt that way.” Your breath hitches. Really? Had you wasted your chance back then? And is that what you’re going to think about right now when he’s here in the middle of the night attempting to rob your museum? But Sero’s moving in closer, and your eyes widen fractionally as your toes scramble a bit in an effort to back up. He notices and smirks. “And how about now? Is what I do a turn off?” His eyes are staring into yours, his voice dropping low. “Or… is it a turn on?” Your breath hitches, and your heart is beating so hard you’re sure he can hear it. He’s so close, and you can’t get away. Though… you know that you really don’t want to. He exhales slowly, his breath ghosting over your lips, before he closes the distance between your mouths. His lips are thin and slightly chapped, but he obviously knows what he’s doing. His mouth moves slowly, almost teasingly as he coaxes your mouth to move with his. He presses in closer to place one hand on the middle of your back and slide down to the small. You aren’t sure what exactly it is – the fact that you’re bound, the fact that you’re at your job, the fact that you liked him, the fact that he’s a criminal, or maybe all of them – but this is the most amazing kiss you’ve had in a while. If ever. There is the beginning of a knot of heat in your core as his tongue licks your lower lip, your mouth immediately opening to allow him entrance. You whimper slightly into the kiss, the noise turning into a soft whine when he pulls away from you. You open your eyes to see him smirking down at you. He’s still holding your body pressed to his, and you can easily feel without your hands how firm his muscles are. How strong he is. He has to be, really, to be able to swing around on his tape as fluidly as he does. But Sero had always been strong. You remember seeing him in the Sports Festival back when he went to UA High School, remember him during the cavalry battle. How he had easily caught a young Ground Zero in mid air with one arm and tossed him back on top of their group. You’d had that in your mind for months after the fact. “I guess it’s a turn on,” he murmurs, one hand going up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “So now the real question is… how much of a turn on is it?” He leans close, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You gonna let me get into that dress? I’d like to know what you taste like.” Your breath hitches, a shiver going down your spine. You want it, so fucking badly, but are you bold enough to let him? Well, it’s not like you have much of a choice, you reason with yourself. Sure, it’s probable that he won’t touch you if you say no, but you’re bound. Helpless. At his mercy. You hold your breath as he pulls back just far enough to look into your eyes, and you give the slightest nod on the exhale. His mouth curls into another smirk and he lets you go to back away. You look at him in confusion until he shoots more tape at the ceiling – two strands, that he attaches to your ankles and uses to keep your legs yanked into the air. Your dress hikes up to your hips when he pushes your thighs up and ties his tape to each one. This leaves you splayed open, suspended in front of him. On display for his dark eyes to rove over. He steps close to you again, both hands running on the outside of your thighs until they reach your hips. Then he moves to his knees to put himself at face level with your core. “Mm. Already wet for me, I see,” he says in a husky, teasing tone. Before you can formulate a quippy answer the hands on your hips dig in and he pulls your forward to his mouth. His wide, flat tongue licks up your damp panties and your breath is ripped from your lungs. He lets out a pleasurable groan. “Delicious. Just like I thought. But I’m sure it’d be better without these in the way.” Sero hooks his thumb into your panties and pulls them to the side before repeating his tongue drag. This time it pulls a strangled moan from you. He lets out another groan in response and pulls back just enough to look at you from between your legs. “That’s it, make more of those noises for me.” And he pulls you back in. You’d had oral sex before, sure. Roughly half of the guys you dated did it, and a decent number of them enjoyed it. It had always astounded you how much a guy wanted your mouth on his dick but didn’t want to return the favor. Sero Hanta, on the other hand, ate you like he was starving and you were the most decedant thing he’d ever tasted. His hands kept you pressed tightly to his face to the point that you’d probably be concerned for his ability to breathe if you could string a thought together. He seems like he’s everywhere at once. His tongue lapping up your sex before dipping inside of it, back out to drag up and circle your clit. Now and then he’d suck or gently bit it, causing a sharp increase in the moans he was pulling out of you. He had you strung up in a way that you really could only see the top of his head as he worked you over, so you could never quite tell what was coming next. You let out a noise of surprise that tapers into a moan when his first finger breaches you. “Look at you,” he breathes as he presses kisses to the insides of your thighs. “Opening right up for me.” He leans back far enough to be able to catch your eyes. “Such a good girl.” He curls his long, dexterous finger up to press against the small, spongy spot inside you that has you bucking in your restraints. He grins. Sero knows exactly what he’s doing. He slides his finger out only to press two back in as he leans forward. “Cum for me, babe?” he breathes out across your sex before wrapping his lips back around your clit. The sucking sensation coupled with the press against that spot inside you has you crying out and coming apart around him. He rolls his fingers as you ride through it while gently licking at your clit, your hips jerking and trying to get away from the over-stimulation. You’re slightly dazed as he rises up, grabbing your hips again and pressing his bulge into your soaked folds. Despite how sensitive you are, you can’t help but buck back into him. “Can I use your mouth, babe?” He tilts his head slightly, grinning when you enthusiastically nod your consent. You can’t quite find words, so… body language. Sero pulls a blade out from somewhere around his hip and cuts the tape to let your legs down. More tape shoots off, more tape is cut, you don’t really have the capacity to follow what he’s doing. Then you’re being moved. Sero tilts you forward until your face is level with his hips, but your toes are still just skimming the floor again. He has your hips bound up a little higher than your head and you look at him from under your lashes. He reaches out to skim fingers down the line of your jaw. “Beautiful,” he mumbles. Your heart swells with the praise, and you bite your lip before opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and looking back up at him. He curses under his breath and flicks his fingers under a nearly invisible seam at the crotch of his suit, revealing a button and long zipper. How convenient, you think as he undoes both and pulls his cock out through the hole. He immediately drops it so the head bounces on your tongue, hissing at how warm your tongue is. His cock isn’t particularly wide, but it is long and slightly curved upward. And he tastes so good, you really want to close your mouth and get to work, but you wait. He rocks his hips marginally to let the head slide a few centimetres and bites his lip.  “Fuck. You are a good girl. Go ahead and close your mouth, babe.” You happily oblige, feeling a thrill at the way his head tips back when you swirl your tongue around the head. He drops a large hand on your head but instead of guiding your head further down like most of the guys you’ve been with, he winds his fingers gently in your hair. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your head as he rocks his hips into your mouth. You want more. You’re very confident that you can take him down to the root, and you want to try. You try to push forward but it’s very awkward with your toes scrambling on the floor. He notices once you whine a little, and looks down with a chuckle. “You want more?” He steps forward a little, letting more of his length slide in until he bumps into the back of your throat. You let out a small moan and let your tongue dance around his underside to show your approval. He makes a guttural noise and starts to rock his hips into you faster. Harder. You hollow out your cheeks as you look up at him and he moans.  “Shit, I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he rasps out with a slight laugh. He manages a few more thrusts before he’s pulling out of your mouth. He’s panting a little and looking at you with a lopsided grin. "Damn babe, you're good with that mouth." You flush a little and smile. You’d been told that before, but somehow it was so much better coming from Sero. "Thanks. You're um, you're good with your tape." Sero’s face brightens, and his mouth curls up to a wide grin as he tucks himself back into his suit. "Yeah? Think so? You haven't seen the half of it.” Before you can question what he means by that the switchblade is out again. He cuts you down and lets you find your feet. The blade gets positioned at your hip, then Sero’s wrist flicks up. It cuts you out of the tape… and out of your dress.  “Sorry babe,” he murmurs with no real remorse in his voice. You open your mouth to protest your ruined dress but Sero pulls you close, pressing your bare chest to his body suit clad one and kiss you into silence. It’s not important. You have a dress in your locker. It’s fine. As you’re kissing you feel his fingers caress the line of your panties, along your hips, before he pulls on them slightly. He’s testing to see if he can remove them, you assume. You quickly pull them further down.  He chuckles into your kiss and swiftly crouches to help you out of them before tucking them into a nearly invisible back pocket. He gives you a cheeky grin and quickly removes the tape from your ankles. Technically you’re free now, but the thought to run doesn’t even cross your mind. You just wait until he straightens up and moves back in for more kisses. After a few moments you hear his tape shoot out again three times. He pulls back as he shoots a fourth. It binds around your bare chest, just under your breasts. “The anchor,” he says with a wink.  You tilt your head in confusion, and he pulls his arm back to rest his hand on the back of his neck. He pulls more tape from his elbow, a sizable piece. He starts to twist the tape and wrap you up. He attaches the tape to the front of the strip already on you, threads it up through your breasts, and attaches it at the back almost to your hip. He repeats that on the other side. He keeps making and twisting tape, wrapping around your ankles and wrists. He steps behind you and presses your wrists together, crossing them, and quietly asks you to keep them there. You do. His fingers skimming over your skin as he works you over it so erotic. He wraps tape around your elbows, not twisted, to keep your arms straight out. Sero takes one of the tape strands attached to the ceiling and attaches it to the tape on your back. Now you kind of understand what he meant when he said it was an anchor point.  “I’m gonna lift you up, okay?”  You exhale, already shaky. “Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.” He smiles and grabs your chin, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. Your heart skips a beat. He makes another tape rope and crouches down to affix it to your ankle. He runs fingertips with a feather light touch up the side of your leg as he rises. Then he pulls, your ankle coming up. He keeps pulling higher until your thigh follows. He binds your ankle to your wrist, then ties your lower thigh and upper leg together. The position keeps your leg up and folded in. He quickly repeats this with the other side before attaching the last two tape strands he shot off at first to your ankles. You’re suspended by your ankles and the middle of your back, arms stretched out and held in place behind you. Because your ankles are also attached to your wrists, if you shift or move one of them the others move too. You bite your lip as Sero walks around to your front. He traces fingers along your jawline again but this time he doesn’t stop, tipping your face up to his by your chin. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, reverence in his voice. Your face flushes, because he’s looking at you like you’re the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen. He runs his thumb over your lower lip and your lips automatically part. He gives you a slight smirk and crouches so he can be face to face with you without removing his fingers from your face. “Now, I’d really like to fuck you. But if you don’t want to, I can use my mouth on you again instead.” His voice was soft, eyes watching your face for your reaction. You swallow, and nod. He chuckles a little. “I gotta hear you say it, babe.” “Yeah, yeah please. I want you to fuck me, Sero,” you gasp out in a rushed breath. He leans in and softly kisses your lips. “Good girl,” he whispers against your mouth and rises. You shiver in anticipation as you lose sight of him when he moves behind you. You’re straining to hear what he’s doing, and you hear the rustle of his clothes, the tearing of a wrapper. Your eyes widen as you feel his blunt head sliding along your still soaked folds. The tease is too much and you whine again, but you can’t push back against him. He’s taken all of your possible leverage away and now you really were entirely at his mercy. Large hands grab on to your waist as the first inch sinks in. You inhale and Sero quietly asks if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” you say with impatience in your tone, “Just waiting.”  Sero chuckles behind you. “Well, who am I to keep a lady waiting?” Air is punched out of your lungs as he sheathes himself in one thrust, then slides back out. One more hard thrust, a soft groan from him, and then he’s railing into you hard and fast. While he’s not the thickest man you’ve ever had, he is still a good size and the drag of his cock on your walls is making you cry out as it rubs against the small bundle of nerves inside you. And his length is incredible. He’s bottoming out with each thrust, and his leverage on your hips has him pulling you back as he pushes forward. Hard, deep, and driving you to a second release faster than you thought possible. Sero groans again and picks up his pace. “Fuck, yeah, that’s good baby. Look at you, sucking me in like this. You feel so good around me. Can’t wait to feel you cum on my cock.” His voice is so low, murmuring the words to you, and you clench around him. He hisses at the feeling, moaning out on his exhale. “That’s right, cum on my cock baby. Just let go.” One of his hands leaves your hip and he steps closer to you. You’re bouncing on him a bit more due to gravity than his grasp, and the free hand snakes down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. Five swipes and you’re done for, crying out loudly as your walls clamp down around him. He stops moving in you, still all the way inside, gently and slowly rubbing your clit as your ride out your orgasm. He doesn’t stop though, even as you come down and the pleasure starts to be too much. “S-Sero, I can’t-” “Sure you can, babe. I know you have one more for me.” He rolls his hips fractionally, barely an inch of his cock sliding in and out of you as he keeps his attention on your clit. Your thighs pulled back as far as they are prevent you from closing them to stop him, and it only takes a few minutes before you’re sobbing as another orgasm rips through you. Only now does he pull his hand away and moves so he is standing like he’d been. His hand returns to your bare hip. “See, I knew you had it in you. So fucking good for me.” You barely have time to process his words before he’s fucking into you hard again. He’s chasing his own orgasm now, and you desperately want to give it to him. You can’t touch him though, and you can’t wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. The only thing you can do is flex your walls, make the hole he’s fucking into tighter. It earns you a moan of appreciation that makes you giddy. “Shit, babe, I’m gonna-” He cuts off into a drawn out moan as he slams into you one more time, hard. Then a few softer thrusts. Then he’s done, and you’re both just panting. Desperate attempts to fully fill your lungs. It takes a full minute before Sero pulls out and starts to move. “Well… I must admit that I wasn’t expecting this particular type of art when I came here.” Sero huffs out a laugh and you blink in your post orgasm haze. He peels the condom off and pulls a small bag from his pocket to drop it into. The bag gets closed and shoved back in his pocket. Right, he doesn’t want to leave any evidence that he was here. You bite your lip as you try to stare at him over his shoulder. “Lotus Daydream isn’t here.” Sero looks at you in surprise when you blurt out the words. “It’s on loan to another museum. It’s been gone for three days.” He blinks in disbelief, and then bursts out laughing. “You sneaky little thing.” But he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds amused, even impressed. “I guess that theft-wise my trip was a bust.” Sero runs a hand over the side of his head, smoothing back some stray hair strands. He looks at you still hanging on display as if he’s trying to figure out what to do with you. You bite your lip in consideration. “I won’t say anything about you breaking in if you just leave. Since the piece you’re after isn’t here anyway.” It’s a long shot but worth a try. He frowns a little as he studies your face. You really wish that you could at least close your legs, if not actually get back onto the floor. “Yeah. Alright. You have a deal. You don’t say anything about me being here and I’ll let you go.” Your face brightens and his grows more serious. “But if I do find out that you said something… I’ll be coming after you. And you will desperately wish that you hadn’t. Do you understand?” “Yeah. I understand.” You’re proud that your voice is firm, and the frown turns back up to his wide, trademark smile. He pulls the switchblade back out to cut his tape, gently lowering you to the floor. Only now does he remember that he shredded your dress when he cut you out of his initial containment.  “I have a spare dress in my locker,” you say quickly. Sometimes – almost daily - you get the varnish on your clothes. Most days that doesn’t matter. You don’t really leave your office. But you do try to make sure you have a spare outfit in case you have to meet someone important. You blink as he says that he’ll grab it and he heads off. Somehow you aren’t surprised that he knows where the lockers are and that he can apparently pick your lock. He returns in moments carrying your dress draped over his shoulder. He carefully peels the rest of the tape off of your bare skin. His gentleness is surprising and makes your heart flutter. He’s going slow, careful to not hurt you. He lets you dress, comes with you to pick up your bag, and walks you to the door. He looks out over the street once you’re outside. “The video feed is on a loop. I put your guard to sleep, he’ll wake up without any knowledge that he was knocked out.” Sero gives a bright grin and a small two-finger wave, then shoots his tape up, retracting it to propel up and disappears onto the roof. You watch him go in awe. Sero was amazing in your mind back when you first met him but he was just stunning now. You glance at your watch to check the time. It’s late, the trains have already stopped. You don’t live that far from the museum though, maybe a twenty five minute walk. So you set off. You get three blocks before you hear a low whistle. “Hey baby, what’re you doing out by yourself this late at night? Wanna come party with us?” Your blood runs cold at the trio of men lurking at the alley entrance to your right. The smell of cheap sake invades your senses. Your hand goes to your pocket for your phone and a cold sense of realization washes over you. It had been knocked from your hands and was currently under a shelf in the artifact room. As you’re preparing to run a rough hand grabs you and yanks you into the darkened alley. A different hand clasps over your mouth, but drunks don’t have the best coordination or reflexes. You’re able to bite down hard on one of the man’s fingers. He yells and yanks his hand back, and you take the opportunity to let out a scream. One of the other men growls at you to shut up and smacks you hard upside the head. Your head snaps forward. It dazes you, and your head rolls back. You’re dizzy and can’t seem to focus on any of them. The third man laughs. Three different voices blend together, talking about what they intend to do to such a pretty little thing like you. You’re shoved and pinned up against the rough brick of the alley wall while they argue about who goes first, who goes where. You close your eyes, waiting for the touches you don’t want. But they never come. The hands pinning you leave you and you slide down to the ground. You hear shocked shouts, and when you open your eyes and your vision starts to clear you see a black, white, and yellow figure swinging from a rope – tape! - and kicking one of them drunken men in the face. They try to fight back, but three wobbly drunks are no match for Sero Hanta. He’s too fast, too agile, too strong. Your attackers are all out cold in the alley in under two minutes. Sero, not even breathing heavily from the exertion, lands gracefully on his feet turns to you. With a frown he gently gathers you up in his arms and brings a hand up to touch where they slammed you in the head. “...I heard you scream. Are you alright?” You don’t answer right away. Instead, you bring up a hand and cup his cheek. “You saved me,” you breathe out. Sero’s face softens, and he smiles. He brings you closer and leans down until your foreheads are touching. “Yeah,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I did, didn’t I? Let me get you home.”

[marauders-venting]

Our Last Summer (Part 1)

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: none

words: 2267

note: based on the song ‘Our Last Summer’ by ABBA

a/n: this isn’t the whole thing but I haven’t finished it yet and it’s getting really long anyway so I decided to just post it in parts (i know it says fluff & angst and there’s no angst here but be patient it will come)

I can still recall our last summer, I still see it all. Walks along the Seine laughing in the rain, our last summer, memories that remain… I can still recall our last summer, I still see it all. In the tourist jam round the Notre Dame our last summer walking hand in hand

Sirius woke up smiling. Remus’ arm was still draped over him. He turned around and kissed him on the nose.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” Remus groans.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Remus says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I like waking up next to you.” Sirius’ smile widened.

“I like waking up next to you too,” he said. He kisses Remus softly before turning to grab his wand off his bedside table and Summoning two cups of tea. He hands one to Remus and then opens the drawer of his bedside table and pulls out a large packet of dark chocolate.

“Happy anniversary,” Sirius says, giving Remus the chocolate.

“Best present ever,” Remus says, taking a bite; Sirius can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

“The day is just beginning,” he says, sipping his tea.

“Really? So what do you have planned?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Sirius says mysteriously.

---------

“No way,” Remus said, shaking his head. “There is no fucking way I’m getting on that death trap.”

“Yes you are,” Sirius said, taking his hand and pulling him closer to the motorcycle. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No,” Remus said. “Why can’t we just Apparate? Or take a taxi?”

“What’s a taxi?” Sirius asked.

“I swear to god, I’ve already told you at least five times,” Remus says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because we’re riding my motorcycle,” Sirius said.

“Nope,” Remus said. “Not fucking happening.”

“Please,” Sirius pouted. “It’s not illegal, I have a license. And I promise I won’t fly. I’ll stay on the ground the whole time.” Remus still looked hesitant. “I even customised your helmet myself.” He pulled out a black helmet with ‘Moony’ written on the side in flaming block letters. It brought a little smile to Remus’ face.

“Ugh fine,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “But this is a one-time thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so,” Sirius said. “Now come.” They climbed on the motorcycle and Remus wrapped his hands around Sirius’ waist. “Normally I would say hold on tight,” Sirius said, “but if you hold any tighter you might just squeeze me to death.”

“And if I don’t hold this tight I might just fall to my death,” Remus replied. “Now shut up and drive; I want to get this over with.”

And suddenly, they’re on the road and holy fuck Remus is terrified. He’s resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder watching the cars around them. He squints his eyes, trying to make everything appear blurry (hoping it’ll make this a little less terrifying) and yes, he’s afraid but he has to admit that the blur of lights from all the cars is actually quite beautiful. That is, until they climb on the highway and Sirius picks up the speed. Now it’s just terrifying. Remus closes his eyes and buries his head in the crook of Sirius’ neck. The smell of Sirius and the feel of his beating pulse calms Remus down a little. He knows Sirius wouldn’t suggest this if it was that dangerous; Sirius would never let anything bad happen to him.

Remus doesn’t open his eyes until he feels them slowing to a stop. When he does finally look around, he finds himself in the parking lot of what looks like a small park.

“Hey,” Sirius says, reaching a hand back and stroking Remus’ thigh. “Are you ok?”

“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean,” Remus says, letting go of Sirius so he can climb off the motorcycle. Sirius helps Remus down and takes his helmet.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Yes, it was that fucking bad,” Remus says. “I’m never riding that thing again.”

“Hey, ‘that thing’ has a name, you know,” Sirius said, arms crossed.

“Right, sorry,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “I’m never riding Elvendork again.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually remembered their name,” Sirius said, laughing.

“I can’t believe you actually named your motorcycle,” Remus said. “Now tell me what we’re doing here.”

“Come with me,” Sirius said, pulling him by the hand into the park.

“Where are we?” Remus asks, looking around.

“You’ll see,” Sirius said. He led Remus to the far end of the park where several bushes and trees made a hedge that seemed to show the end of the park. Sirius got on his hands and knees and pushed the plants out of his way as he crawled into the hedge.

“Are you serious right now?” Remus asked. As soon as the word was out of his mouth he regretted it.

“I’m always Sirius,” came the reply. “Now come on.” Remus sighed and crawled through the hedge. When he came out on the other side he saw Sirius sitting on the grass.

“What is this place?” Remus asked, looking around. If he was being honest, it looked like a little heaven. Everything was so green. The grass, the trees, the hedge they came through. It looked like something out of a painting. The colourful flowers from the trees littered the floor; Remus picked one up, walked over to Sirius and put it in his hair.

“I used to come here when I was a kid,” Sirius said, effectively surprising Remus. “I know hardly any of my stories start like that but when I was… 9, I think, my cousin Andromeda was 15. And one summer she came over to our house and she asked my parents if she could take me somewhere. I don’t know what lie she told them but whatever it was they bought it. She brought me here. She told me that a friend of hers at school had shown her this place. His dad was a park ranger and he used to come here all the time as a kid. It was just close enough to my house that we could walk here and we’d spend all day playing here. She even learnt how to use muggle money so she could buy us food.”

“The last time we did it was the year before I started Hogwarts. She was seventeen then. She showed me magic. It was incredible. She did all kinds of spells to make plants grow and stuff. It was awesome. I’d never seen magic so… raw before. It was beautiful. But then she ran away with Ted Tonks and got burnt off the tapestry so there was no way my parents would let me see her. But she wrote to me a few times to tell me to meet her here. That was how I met Ted for the first time. Turns out he was actually the one who showed Andie this place. And I met Nymphadora here as well. I used to come here alone sometimes too. I tried to bring Regulus with me once but he was scared we’d get caught. The only good memories from my childhood… they’re all from this place. I just wanted to show it to you. I mean, you took me to your childhood home but… I mean you’ve seen the Potters’ house a million times. But I guess I wasn’t really a child by the time I moved there. So I guess… I don’t know, I just wanted to share this with you.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, taking Sirius’ hand and pressing his lips to the back of his hand, “for bringing me here, I mean. This place is beautiful. Are you the only one who knows about it?”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Sirius said. “I mean, it’s not very visible but there’s no way that nobody else has ever found this place. But it was always empty whenever I came here. Which wasn’t that often I suppose.” Sirius flopped back onto the grass, dragging Remus with him. They lay on their backs looking at the sky, hands still clasped together.

“It looks like it’s going to rain,” Remus said. Sirius shrugged. It was true; the clouds had been dark all day and the smell of approaching downpour lingered in the air. But Sirius had been keeping his fingers crossed that the rain would wait until later tonight so that he could carry out his plans without any disruption.

“You hungry? We could go get some food if you want. There are muggle shops nearby. But you’ll have to handle the money cause I still have no clue how to do that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, if Andromeda could learn I’m sure you can too,” Remus said, as they left their little garden of Eden. “Come on, I’ll teach you.” They walked down the street looking for a coffee shop or a food vendor nearby. They found a bakery selling sandwiches so they bought two, Remus bought tea, Sirius bought coffee, and they returned to the hidden corner of the park.

“Do you get how to use the money now?” Remus asked as they walked back.

“You’ve taught me a million times, Moony, it never sticks,” Sirius said. “You just have to resign yourself to the fact that your boyfriend is a dumb bitch, no matter how hot he is.”

“Oh don’t worry, I accepted your lack of intelligence and general common sense a long time ago, Pads,” Remus said, putting an arm around Sirius as they sat back down on the grass, pulling the sandwiches out of the paper bag and laying everything out on the floor in front of them.

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “I am intelligent but I’m still a dumb bitch too.”

“You’re saying you’re an oxymoron?”

“Wait, I never say I was a moron—”

“No, not a moron, an oxymoron.”

“What does that mean?” Sirius asked.

“It’s like something that juxtaposes itself,” Remus said.

“Juxta-what now?” Sirius said. Remus rolled his eyes.

“You need to read more. It’s something that contradicts itself. Phrases like awfully nice or saying that someone was found missing.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. “So yeah, that’s what I’m saying. You’re so smart, Moony. You know so many big words.”

“Literally just pick up a book,” Remus said, laughing and kissing him softly. “I promise, it’ll do you wonders.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“Oh we’ve circled back to that now, have we?”

---------

That was how they spent most of the day. Talking, laughing, joking, kissing, lying on the grass. It seemed like the day really was going to be perfect. Until it started raining. At first, the drops were light and they weren’t bothered by it, but soon the rain became heavy and loud and they were both getting soaked. Remus didn’t mind getting wet; he had bigger worries on his mind.

“We’re not riding a motorcycle in the rain, are we?” Remus asked, his concern leaking through his voice.

“We can wait for the rain to stop if you like,” Sirius said. “Hey, you know, it’s actually good that we came here on Elvendork because we can cut through the traffic on our way home.”

“What? No, no, no, no, no,” Remus said, shaking his head. “There’s no way that’s safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe, Moony, I’ve done it a million times,” Sirius insisted. “Just keep your eyes closed like you did before. It was cuter like that anyway.” Remus felt himself blush.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said out of the blue. “I didn’t know it would rain.” He looked genuinely upset; Remus wasn’t sure why.

“Of course you didn’t know, Pads,” Remus laughed. “You can’t control the weather. Everything will be fine. We’ll just wait out the rain before riding home.”

“That’s not what I—” Sirius started, “never mind.”

“What is it?” Remus asked, covering Sirius’ hand with his own.

“I just… I wanted everything to be perfect today. I’m sorry I ruined our anniversary.”

“Ruin it? Sirius, what are you talking about? You didn’t ruin anything.”

“But… it’s raining,” Sirius said confused.

“Yes and? Rain is, like, the most romantic thing ever.”

“It is?”

“Once again,” Remus sighed, “I would like to reiterate how desperately you need to read a book.”

“Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be addicted to romance novels.”

“Oh shut up and kiss me.” Sirius laughs and lets his lips meet Remus’. They’re both drenched to the bone but neither one of them could care any less. Sirius’ hand brushes Remus’ cheek as he wraps his arms around Remus’ neck pulling him closer. Remus’ hands are on Sirius’ waist, and they slide down to his hips. Sirius’ shirt had ridden up a bit from lifting his hands to reach Remus’ neck and Remus’ fingertips brush Sirius’ bare skin — which is wet and slippery from the rain — making Sirius shiver and sigh. When they break apart, Sirius brings his lips to Remus’ ear.

“Besides,” he whispers, as Remus runs a hand through Sirius’ wet hair, “who needs romance novels when I’ve got the best romance story in the world.” Remus felt a flutter of pure happiness and smiled. He kissed Sirius’ jaw, right beneath his ear.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered. Sirius sighed in response. They stand there in the rain, wrapped in each other’s arms, dancing slowly to the sound of the rain splashing and pattering on the leaves of the trees around them.

[phenomenalcosmicpowers]

MY LITTLE PONY: A NEW GENERATION (G5 Movie) THOUGHTS

It’s finally here. The beginning of Generation 5. Though before I get into the movie in some detail I’m going to reiterate one more time what G5 means for my content and a non-spoilery summary of the movie.

Again, I will say that the movie nor will the G5 series coming later have much of an effect at all on any of my blogs. The revelation in Secrets of the Dragon’s Tear that life itself is also magic means that a world that implied to have no magic for years would mean the extinction of all life (Perhaps resulting in the wasteland we saw in the Season 5 finale). There may be something I’ll probably do at some point on a certain different blog. But even then, that may likely be a one-time thing and probably come around the time the series is starting to air.

That said, just because I’m continuing with mainly G4 content doesn’t mean I disapprove of G5. In fact, my non-spoilers thoughts on the movie is I think it is a good start for this new generation. There are questions I have that I’m not sure will be answered (Though many of those questions are the same ones I had in my Trailer/Preliminary thoughts) quickly enough. But the movie is structured well enough, in fact it’s probably a better movie as a whole compared to any of the movies G4 had (The 2017 movie, Rainbow Roadtrip, and all 4 Equestria Girls movies). As the 2017 movie was fun, but it jumped around a lot, sometimes scenes transitioning too fast. And while Rainbow Roadtrip may have been this on purpose, the entirely slice-of-life story taking up a long length… made it something of a less interesting plot to follow. It feels like some of that special could of been cut to at least a two-parter length and keep the same beats they hit. And while i have a soft spot for the 3rd and 4th Equestria Girls movies, I’ll always say a full-length pony adventure feels better suited for what I want to see out of MLP then spin-off movies with high school movie cliches and weird pony/human world shenanigans.

So movie-wise I’m not a G4 purist. It’ll take some time to see how Gen 5 compares to Friendship is Magic when we get to the series. As I feel it’d take a lot for it to surpass G4 in my mind. But I’m going to try to be as fair as possible and judge on it’s own merits. The implied connection to G4 by referring to G4 being ancient Equestria is going to naturally get the staff and hasbro pressured by fans to tell us what happened in-between the generations. Because that’s the trap they put the writers in when they made it so they want to try to say it’s in the same universe. That’s the double-edged sword Hasbro chose to have, trying to appease the G4 fanbase and keep at least some of them around. But at the cost of questions both nitpicky (Such as character design being inconsistent) or actual honest questions that need to be known (Why did magic disappear, and what happened to the Alicorns) for some of us to truly see this as the same Equestria.

After the break, I’ll have more spoilery thoughts

Even for a brief moment, it was nice seeing the Mane 6 and 2D animation. The former because of course those are the ponies many of us that saw all of G4 loved. And the latter, because while the animation wasn’t bad in this movie. I’m one of those who’d prefer to have 2D animation in an animated film. As in most cases aside from Pixar, it’s just a strong preference of mine. If this had the animation of the 2017 MLP movie but otherwise everything else was generally the same here, I feel that would of have been great.

I wish they didn’t have to have Sunny’s dad die off-screen, as he seems like he could of been a compelling character. And not to mention if perhaps he has any connection the “ancient” days in any fashion. But *sigh* I get it, it’s an old trope where part of the character’s offscreen growth is not having their parent(/s) around.

On a side note there’s quite a few times during the beginning of the movie that somewhat foreshadow what happens to Sunny later. 3 times where she had a fake horn and wings on her. Once in the flashback, then 2 separate times when she’s doing her protest where she has her own costumed wings and horn. As well as the helmet and mechanical wings.

Also, there’s no way around it. Some of the discussions this movie are going to get quite political. (Namely one part of Sunny’s song that could be seen as having a double meaning of a jab at Trumpsts regarding “Building your wall”) From the very premise in the early times, we know that the inspiration for the story was last year’s Black Lives Matter protests. Which honestly, I do support the message they’re going for. Having an anti-racism message to tell kids from the very beginning and making a focus on it is important when in G4 it only got briefly touched upon in Bridle Gossip and the Heath’s Warming Eve play. Although it certainly rose up to some form of prominence with Season 8 and onward. Still, while you can argue if G4 executed the anti-racism message well. it does come with something of a problem that the series finale left Equestria in the least divided it’s ever been.

And personally, I feel it’s a terrible interpretation of time to say “Well, it’s a realistic take. Racism has existed for years in our world. Same should go for the ponies” and while yes, racism is still rampant in today’s world. That said, that ignores that if we went from The Last Problem to the start of G5. There’s a huge difference between our world and Equestria. There is no ancient civilization that we look at like “Yeah, those were the golden days of world peace” when normally the “Golden age” was reserved for the high classes of Ancient Greece or Rome. It was most decidedly not perfect, with slavery rampant and wars for the sake of expanding an empire. While if you look at The Last Problem’s Equestria, you not only have peace between the three main types of ponies. But you literally have non-pony citizens in Equestria. You can see a dragon handing off a flower to a pony which can imply cross-species romantic relations. With the Friendship school still going strong, and was the reason that the world was saved in The Ending of the End. While perhaps it may be too glowing to say that future is perfect for everyone even in-universe. It’s certainly a hell of a lot better outlook then comparing to how we view even the so called Golden age of ancient civilizations. The Last Problem’s Equestria implies it looks to ally with every country outside of Equestria, not conquer them.

So it should still be a valid question on just how this world collapses to the point it gets to where G5 is at the start. I at least assume that it’s not the fault at all of any of the Mane 6 nor Twilight. Or at least I hope it isn’t, as I’d rather the MLP fanbase not have to deal with a The Last Jedi Luke Skywalker situation. (Where after the joyful end of the original trilogy, things go wrong as Luke almost murders the son of one of his best friends and his sister despite trying to hard and succeeding at redeeming his father who at that point in the canon was a galaxy-wide known ruthless mass-murderer.) I assume we’re at a point where everyone of the Mane 6 sans maybe Twilight are presumed dead. And even in Twilight’s case, there’s a chance that G5 decides to say that G4 overestimated the whole Alicorn immortality thing. Though I wouldn’t put it past Hasbro to have some event where the Mane 5 of G5 meet the Mane 6 in some special event whether that’s a a Season finale or a sequel movie/special. Where either the Mane 6 return in a limbo situation similar to the Pillars at the end of Season 7 or Time travel gets involved. They may even string us along on answering just what in the heck happened until they involve a meet-up with the Mane 6 in that way. Though I hope they don’t, I’d really like the beginning of the series (Or I guess this supposed special coming up in Spring supposedly?) starts to answer some questions. G5 should get a chance to stand on it’s own, but I hope the writers are actually well aware there will be so many questions people have and address them in the show. A cynical part of me feels like they’re likely to string us along until at least the Season 1 finale.

Onto the characters for a bit. I think Izzy Moonbow was absolutely the most stand-out character in the whole movie. She was energetic, funny, and aside from “The pegasi are bad news” she along with Zipp and Sunny were the most averse to the way the world was. She was already the most popular due to the tennis ball memes. But now it feels like she legit stands on her own and most certainly deserves to be the most popular character of G5 thus far. Behind her in a bit of a surprise to me was Zipp, who I thought would be mainly a Rainbow Dash-expy. Though she really helps out Izzy and Sunny in Zephyr Heights. Despite having Twilight be my favorite pony from the very beginning of G4 all the way to the end, I didn’t feel as strongly about Sunny for some reason. So she’s in the middle of the pack, she could grow on me later. I just don’t know if I click with her as much as I did with Twilight. As for the last two, while I don’t hate either of them. Either one could be the lowest of the 5 for one reason or another. Pipp (Although I will say she's probably my favorite character design out of the 5) feels like she doesn’t do a whole lot in the movie and it takes until she’s forced to be an outlaw because the other choice was to get imprisoned like her mother was. So she may come off as quite pretentious, though it’s arguable Rarity was the same way early in G4. But she definitely grew later. Could be the same case for Pipp. And as for Hitch, he has shining moments in the film. But what might hurt him is the fact he was such a bad friend to Sunny up until the campfire scene. “I’m the last real friend you have. You really want to lose me too?” is not a healthy friendship. Hitch may have been Sunny’s friend the longest, but it definitely feels like Izzy connected immediately. I don’t know if this show will get into shipping any of the main characters between each other mid-show, but if they do. I hope it’s between Izzy and Sunny currently, cause Hitch and Sunny just gives bad vibes even with Hitch getting better later.

None of the songs I felt were particularly too special. Though I think the closest was Sprout’s “Danger, Danger” song that has similarities to Smells Like Teen Spirit in some parts of the song since I tend towards more rock/metal-esque music.

I touched upon it earlier, but there’s perhaps a stand-out reason for why the G5 movie outdid the 2017 MLP Movie. They have the typical “Our heroic group splits after a sad moment before coming together again for the climatic good end” in Sunny seeing that that the two crystals don’t instantly bring magic back, and when Twilight left the group after an argument that happened with Twilight trying to take a pearl. They perform the same purpose in the movie. But the crystals not working, crushing Sunny’s hope for a little while works better into the story. Where as Twilight’s part frustratingly brought the sea pony scene to an end too quickly and/or doesn’t feel right of Twilight to have done that. It felt forced in the 2017 movie, but works out in the G5 movie. Especially since a part of it is that it’s not the crystals themselves capable of bringing magic back. But it’s the journey going after the crystals that brings the ponies themselves their magic back.

Just a small note on dictator Sprout, he tries to cause a war. Though admittedly the film seems to treat him as a joke the entire time despite his seriously evil ambitions. With the only repercussions is he gets a wishy-washy answer on if he was a good sheriff from his mom. I don’t quite know how I feel about that yet, but I wonder what they’ll have in mind for Sprout given his actions. He and his mom are the only ones that feel like a true antagonist. Though they seem to be ok with things fast when the magic comes back.

But anyway on to the ending, we see that Sunny becomes an Alicorn. Which I guess with no other real Alicorns around, I guess it makes sense to alicornify her since she’s the real leader behind what united the leaders of each type of pony again. Though there is of course this weird thing where her horn and wings don’t seem like as much a part of her body compared to very obvious connected wings on Twilight when she got hers. Sunny keeps her horn and wings to the end of the movie, and has colored streaks in her hair. Though I do wonder if that;s truly permanent. If it is permanent, I suppose at least they got to have a headstart and have it established at the end of the introductory movie rather then have it shock people at the end of a shortened 3rd season. I still feel like Twilight had well earned her alicornhood considering that besides what she did in the series. She has a whole childhood and time as a teenager learning under Celestia. Which had to mean something, and I’m not sure Celestia just leaving her to live the rest of her days with her friends in ponyville was that. Sunny has no doubt been trying countless time to try to spread friendship throughout her life even after the tragedy of her father’s passing. So there’s no doubt she’s been through a lot, and may indeed be worthy of being an Alicorn at this point. Though in terms of screentime before Alicornhood it's definitely a lot less then Twilight had. And it is at least nice to see that it is possible for non-unicorns to become one. (The only case of that we sort of got was a children's book that may or may not be canon that implied Cadence was a pegasus before she ascended)

Though you have to wonder if the visual differences such as Sunny’s alicorn horn and wings, the cutie mark only on one side (Yes I know that’s how it was normally in the MLP generations before G4. But a distinct visual difference between shows is still noticeable even if the context of G4’s cutie marks on both sides of the flank was about it being easier on the puppets for Flash), and how animals can have wings or weird round shapes such as those bunnies when G4 has normal looking animals. There’s enough striking visual differences for any nitpicky G4 to say “This isn’t the same Equestria”. And if someone tries to say maybe some sort of evolution happened. That’s still trying to put a little too much real world logic on this fantasy world. And evolution tends to take millions of years to have such dramatic changes. Not 1000 years or so, there should still be normal looking animals at this point and time. And these small details are probably going to be the things most ignored but nonetheless can build a case that this isn’t the same Equestria. Even if they touch on the important questions like how magic disappeared and what happened to the Mane 6, there will be details they make different that will add to the case that this is it’s own universe if it doesn’t quite matchup with what was remembered about G4. There will be fans who will be that nitpicky to call G5 out of continuity for small details like that. That is again the trap they put themselves in when they decided to try to say it’s the same Equestria.

All-in-all though, I think that’s at least a good enough chunk about my thoughts on the movie to end off here. If there’s something I missed or something from the movie you’d like me to give a particular opinion about or elaborate on something feel free to ask me here. G5 is indeed off to a good start, just I will be along the many hoping some questions get answered sooner then later. And I’m not sure I’m confident in getting anywhere until a Season finale or a 2nd movie. And it’ll be a year before the series starts proper (Though again I guess there’s a 44 minute special coming in Spring to try to hold us over). But I could definitely see G5 finding it's own following, now there's just the inevitable clashes between some of the more vocal fans of each generation bickering at eachother. But hoping there will be enough that take the movie's lessons on divisiveness to heart and be able to enjoy both even if there may be preferences.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: I’ve been so ill recently I’ve read this chapter so many times the words blur together. It’s time to let it go!

Warnings: Force use, nausea mention, Hux is livid, Kylo is annoyed. Shits about to hit the fan.

Word Count: 2677

Read Chapter 16 here on AO3 here.

Hux had showered, was dressed and downstairs flicking through his datapad before you even surfaced. He had on a clean uniform and his coat was resting on his shoulders. As he sat in the kitchen sipping some black caf.

“Meilli?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Can you go and help her get dressed? I really should be leaving soon.” She dipped her head before scurrying away to find you. Beldon, came in through the side door, shaking out the umbrella before placing it in the stand.

“Did you intercept it?” Hux asked curtly, not even looking up.

“Yes Grand Marshal, I did.” Now Hux did look up, seeing the datastick resting in his housekeeper's hand. “What shall I do with it, Sir?”

“I shall take it back with me and analyse it on the Finalizer.”

“May I speak freely?” Hux paused for a moment before nodding. “Why don’t you leave it for My Lady to find and see what she does with it? I think she is loyal, Sir.” Hux frowned. He wanted you to be loyal, he didn’t want to think you’d been here on Arkanis conversing with Resistance sympathisers, but the rumours of them infiltrating First Order occupied worlds were getting too loud to ignore.

“Alright, put it with her stuff.” He rose when he heard you coming down the stairs, his heart he noticed was steady, not racing away with itself like it usually did. You saw him, your eyes full of sadness at the idea of him leaving until you saw the crate resting on the kitchen floor.

“That’s mine,” you stated nervously.

“Yes, you’re coming with me.” He murmured before placing a kiss on your head.

“But Armitage….I can’t.” Your voice was desperate as you clutched the edge of his coat. “The Supreme Leader…”

“Leave Ren to me.” His expression softened slightly in the face of your obvious panic. “I cannot be parted from you again.”

“Ok.” It was barely a whisper and you buried your face into his chest not wanting to be parted from him either.

The ride in the shuttle was quiet, the white lights of hyperspace flickered through the ship highlighting Hux’s profile as he carried on reading his datapad, catching up and whatever he had missed by being on Arkanis.

“How is Mitaka?” You waited for a response but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. “Armitage?” You said softly, making his head snap up in irritation.

“Oh, yes he can’t wait to see you,” he murmured offhandedly and you decided to settle back and endure the rest of the ride in quiet. You just wanted some conversation to try and dull the rising panic that had begun to weave its way through you like smoke. Slow and steady with each passing parsec it grew thicker the closer you got to Kylo Ren.

You tried not to look like you were staying close to Hux but you bumped his shoulder a couple of times when you both came down the ramp, instantly you looked around for a large brooding figure coming for you and your husband but there was nothing except some stormtroopers and Mitaka. His face broke out into a smile when he saw you before turning to Hux.

“Lieutenant, please escort my wife to my chambers. I have a meeting to get to.” You watched Hux stride off without so much as a glance in your direction and you frowned. Something was wrong…or maybe he was just nervous having you back on the ship.

“Are you ready?” You smiled again.

“Yes Dopheld, I am.” You linked your arm with him letting him chat randomly as he led you to the Grand Marshal’s quarters.

Your crate was delivered and you started unpacking once the Lieutenant had excused himself. As you pulled out some clothing to hang up something fell to the floor, you frowned seeing a datastick come to a stop over by the table. At first you had assumed it belonged to Hux and you put it on the table but something was niggling at you. It had been in your crate and he had no luggage, so why would his items get mixed within yours? You tried to ignore it but then you had the thought what if it was something to do with the estate? Letting loose a sigh of resignation you plugged it into the holotable, watching as it delved into the port. A holoimage flickered to life and began to play a message, you didn’t recognise the person or their voice and you wondered if this was actually Hux’s after all.

“Thank you for plugging this stick in, you are well on your way to becoming a Resistance member! My name is Poe Dameron, make a note of that I want them to know who is stealing all the First Order codes and secrets as we speak….” The world came crashing down around you and you flew for the port, scrabbling to pull out the stick but it had fixed itself into the table, tears clouded your vision and you gasped in wild panic. Could this be traced through the ship? This was Hux’s personal holotable, everything would be on here, everything.

“No! No no no no!” You felt anger filter through your obvious panic, you had told Anika no. You had told her you wouldn’t betray Armitage no matter if you were married or not and yet here you were, betraying your husband, the First Order and everything you believed in.

“You might just want to check no ones coming for you, if they are, give this to the first trooper that asks for it and the stick of secrets will find its way to us. The Finalizer is our playground.” The man said smugly in the image. “Commander Poe Dameron over and out!” The stick jolted up, releasing its hold on the port and you grabbed it out ready to throw it away from you when there was a hurried knock at the door. You froze, only the sound of your heart reached your ears and you waited for whoever it was to go away but they tapped smartly on the door again. You put the stick behind your back and opened the door, a lone trooper stood there, his helmet tilted to the side at the sight of you.

“You’re the spy?” He hissed in disbelief.

“I’m no spy!” You demanded and he held his hands out to shush you.

“Do you have it? The stick?”

“This?” You flinched as he wrenched it from your grasp and hurried without another word down the corridor. A sense of relief washed over you, now it was gone you could feint all ignorance.

The more time marched on the more confident you became that what you’d accidentally done had gone unnoticed. You were pouring a cup of caf when Hux returned, you smiled asking if he wanted a cup stopping when you saw him looking at your almost empty crate. His expression was hard and his eyes seemed to be searching for something, your smile faltered.

“What’s wrong? Are you looking for something?” You asked a little too brightly.

“A datastick.”

“Oh! Was that yours? A trooper came by asking for it so I thought you’d sent him to come and get it. I did wonder why it was in my…”

“No it wasn’t mine.” You clamped your mouth shut, his eyes like two burning lasers on your face as he advanced towards you.

“Oh,” you swallowed nervously. “Whose was it then?” You leaned away from him slightly when he came to a stop right in front of you, he seemed to tower over you more than normal, if he was being intimidating it was working.

“Yours.” He spat it at you almost, making you flinch slightly.

“I don’t know….”

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO LIE TO ME!” You cowered, your hands clutching the chair as fear roiled inside you.

“Armitage you’re frightening me!” He grabbed your clothing at the shoulder, pulling you up and close to his furious face, the red blush that he always got when angry had already reached the tips of his ears.

“I’m not even the most terrifying one,” he snarled in your ear. “I’m so…” his voice broke and you sneaked a look at his face. His eyes were slightly pleading through the anger and you felt your heart fracture at the expression.

“Armitage, I promise….” You shut your mouth abruptly as he shook you harshly.

“You are such a disappointment to me.” You gasped when he hauled you through the door, your feet almost dragging along the floor and you struggled to keep up with him. Stormtroopers watched with interest at their Grand Marshal dragging you down the corridors, many moving sharply aside as Hux stormed past them. He stopped at a conference room, the door opened and before you could register what was happening he threw you into the room with a strength that was hidden by his slim form. Air expelled from you abruptly when you collided with the floor, you curled up against the pain that exploded through your abdomen and you saw a pair of black leather boots enter your line of sight. Slowly he crouched before you, the mask covered his face but it was different, red glowing lines marked the surface giving him a more frightful appearance.

“What do we have here, Grand Marshal?” His voice was so similar as it slithered out of the vocoder but no less dangerous, your eyes stared back into the sightless pits trying not to give away how terrified you were.

“The traitor we’ve been looking for,” your husband spat vehemently.

“No!” You cried out. “I’ve been on Arkanis, how could it be me?” Kylo tilted his mask to look up at Hux.

“You’re the one who brought her on board.” He said calmly, noticing how Hux rocked back on his heels as though Kylo had punched him. “Maybe you’re in this together.”

“Supreme Leader I can assure you….” Kylo raised a finger to point at Hux, halting his words.

“I shall interrogate her, and you’re next.” He stated. A pair of troopers grabbed your arms and dragged you upright, you shot a terrified look at Hux but he refused to even acknowledge you, his face pinched and angry that he could even be associated with this. With you.

“Armitage!” The cry fell from you in the vain hope he’d just look at you.

“While I deal with her, maybe you could oversee the capture of the rogue trooper before I strip you of everything.” Hux turned sharply and left you. He didn’t even glance in your direction, he just left you at the mercy of the most powerful man in the Galaxy.

“Now, where shall we begin?”

“No Kylo please…!” But your begging was futile. His hand outstretched towards you and you tried to recoil but the troopers held you steady. Pain blossomed behind your eyes even though you tried to block him it was no good, he had grown even more powerful and he easily broke down your meagre boundaries. Faces, so many faces all from Arkanis, the wedding, Oakley….Kylo happily replayed the moment where Hux had interrupted the almost kiss and you could feel his amusement. “Go ahead! Laugh! You made me do this!” You gasped through the searing pain as he delved deeper.

“I didn’t make you do anything,” he rumbled. The words brought up the image of the surprised trooper at your door and Kylo controlled the memory, almost rewinding it making your stomach heave with nausea. “Hold her!” He snapped at the troopers who had clearly moved away thinking you were going to be sick.

“The Finalizer is our playground…” Poe’s words lingered in your mind as Kylo withdrew and you sagged heavily. He gestured for the troopers to leave, they left you leaning against the table, the room spinning as you tried to get your bearings. Kylo paced up and down before coming to a stop and removing his mask. His hazel eyes watched you slump to the floor, he placed his mask on the table with a thump before crouching down to your level again.

“The Resistance seems to have a claim on my ship.”

“It’s Armitage’s ship,” you managed to say between breaths. He rolled his lips, his jaw flexing, the muscle under his eye twitching.

“Still so loyal, even when he is not,” he retorted softly.

“What…what do you mean?” His eyes studied your face before responding.

“Who do you think planted it in your luggage?” You shook your head and wished you hadn’t, your brain felt like it had detached and you winced.

“My luggage had passed through so many troopers before it made its way to me and then it was in the house on Arkanis.”

“You think I am willing to blame my own army…” he started but you cut across him.

“You’re willing to blame the one man who controls them.” You snapped quickly.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he snarled.

“He came and got me, he chose me over all this.” Kylo smirked before standing to his full height.

“Yes, he really chose you over all this.” He said copying your words. “That’s why he’s here fighting your corner,” he pointed out snarkily. You felt defeated, he was right, but you refused to believe Hux would turn on you so quickly….like you had turned on him.

“Oh…” you looked imploringly at him as realisation struck you. “Oh!” The sobs smacked painfully into your chest, Kylo stood there, indifference written all over his face and watched as you cried. No emotion showed on his features as he let you wind down of your own accord before continuing.

“He has had many months to plan this, to set you up. He followed the rumours of Resistance sympathisers all the way back, to, you,” he pointed out.

“No I swear! I barely spoke to anyone on Arkanis! I dealt with the death of my father and the selling of the house before…before…”

“Attending the wedding of your good friend Anika Elloway.” He strode away from you, his cloak swaying. Your mind raced as you watched him, they had been watching you the whole time but who? Beldon. He knew your every coming and going because you’d trusted him, because he had run the house, because he was loyal to the family.

“I didn’t…” you closed your eyes and fisted your hand as you remembered Anika asking to speak with you at the wedding but there were ears. You had refused all details from her after she declared Oakley was looking to marry. Yes you had needed to find a new husband but you didn’t want to help the Resistance and you had told her as such. You’d gone in all your First Order glory but they still had tried to set you up and now you were taking the fall for a group of people who didn’t care about you at all. “I had no idea…” your gaze rose to Kylo, taking in the back of his head as he looked out of the viewport. “You have to believe me Kylo!” You pleaded.

“You will be detained in a cell until we can decide what to do with you.”

“No! Please!” You cried out as the troopers reentered to retrieve you off the floor, but your cries went unheard. Hopelessness coloured your world the further they dragging you into the ship until you were thrown unceremoniously into a dark cell. Huddling in a corner when the door slammed shut on you, echoing through the room leaving you in no doubt there was no room for escape. There was no one to save you, Hux had thrown you to the mercy of the First Order and the taped up cracks in your heart reshattered. How could you be so stupid? So naive? But still, you clutched to the small slither of hope that Hux wouldn’t let any harm come to you.