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mgghoney · 18 days ago

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pairing// matthew gray gubler and reader || wc// 1,391

summary// someone always meets someone somewhere... just a matter of where

you recall very little moments when you had flashed past someone in the streets of new york and recognized them.

Well. few wouldn't quite be the right word. You recall bumping into random tiktokers and street interviewers, and on occasion when it was fashion week you'd find a model or two with shades and a mask on, but outside of that, the streets of New York were too busy for you to recognize people on the streets.

You keep a folder with a short story tucked in your tote for a specific New York resident, but you doubt you'll ever get to see him in the crowds of work. You doubt you'd be graced with the alumni from your university in the city that he supposedly stays in for the most part, but it doesn't stop you from carrying it around.

A digital camera, a folder of love, pens and journals, a device, and a second film camera for quiet moments when the sun hits right in the weed-strewn park next to university. Quiet mornings when the cold nips at your nose playfully as you fumble to get your scarf to your nose with a furrow of your brows and slipping of your cameras back into your bag, but it doesn't stop you from trying to observe mornings where the skyscrapers block your view of the sun on your way to morning classes that feel like hell or whatnot.

You think you understand a little more why your favorite resident chooses to fly everywhere he needs to despite having no need to stay here.

It's a mess, yes. Rats carrying pizza in the subways, smell of ammonia in certain regions of the city, tourists weaving in and out of the timeless square, but it's busy for a reason. You find that despite it all, the city is still home because of how busy it is.

The night ends late, and the day starts early.

You wonder if you could wake up in some strange universe in which you'd have enough joy to start your morning as nicely as he seems to start his, but you're not him, alas.

Being moderately delusional with that folder of love that sits in a tote bag as you drink coffee you force yourself to wake up early to make because the ones in New York cost less of a sweet treat and more of a small reward.

But you embrace the strangeness of living in a city that everyone knows, ID card swiped and icy breath in the air as you scrunch your nose further into the scarf as your shoulders relax in the heater of the buildings. You barely notice the strangeness of arriving earlier than usual, and you pause to consider just what you should do with the surplus of time, but you don't really need to think too hard.

It doesn't take an eureka moment for you to sit down and settle back in the warmth of one of the chairs to flip open your notebook.

You write, world at your hands, beauty at the tips of your fingers as you look up to stare at a classmate who's settled themselves across the hall from you, and you create. Quiet eyes brought to life and headphones shaded, so little that tells so much.

You don't know if you quite have that kind of imagination, but you try to take everything lightly. Criticism can be ground into dust to combine into something of more use, and a candle can be lit in the strangeness of the dark to act as a guide to somewhere with light.

The absence of light is something you don't fear, strangely enough.

You think you reflect a lot while you don't at other times. It isn't something on your mind when the dark falls over the city and the lights spark to life, and it isn't something that you really consider when you have headphones on and pass people on the street to get to —

oh.

oh!

You stop on your heel and turn around, name tumbled out like you've just found an old friend, heaving as you call, nearly sliding onto your ass when you finally do get him to stop, familiar smile from photos you've seen as your shoulders sink and your breathing stems from your diaphram to catch what you lost.

"Matt." You pant, eyes sparkling with strange life as you catch your breath, face warm and no doubt flushed from nearly sliding, but you gasp. "Sorry, huge fan. Is it alright if I call you that?"

He's wonderfully sweet, sorrys strewn on your lips as you apologize for startling him and you ask for a photo with him, and you beam impossibly brighter, cheeks warm from laughing as he rambles with you, and you learn that your favorite resident in the city of dreams is just as wonderful as you had hoped, and when you find that he's ready to let go, you hand him one final souvenir from your tote bag, apologizing that you didn't have anything to let him hold it with, but giving it to him nonetheless.

"A small gift from my universe to yours." You tell him, waving as you both turn, and you think you've made your point and fulfilled your tale.

It didn't quite matter what you didn't want to do anymore. If you could tough through the complexity of your strange enamoration with your favorite resident that you'd admit perhaps wasn't too healthy and perhaps lightly parasocial, you could perhaps tough through everything, even if it meant the quiet tilting of a head of curiosity as you had handed him the folder. Perhaps it was how he felt when he had mailed those discs to his favorite director and gotten an internship in response.

The universe has worked in strange ways for him, and you find the same strangeness in your own life on occasion.

You just wonder if it is contagious or the quirk of his own world.

You go on with your day-to-day life, fingers clicking on the apps on your phone, calls with family and friends when you walk home, and you think it's quite strange to no longer feel the comfort of weight in your bag. Yet you find your shoulders hurt less because of it.

You expect to forget about the story and move on, the document tucked somewhere in a forgotten email in the past, embarrassment crawling up your cheeks when you think too hard about it.

It should all be done, and you've passed a small piece of your universe to him, and it should be done.

But it isn't, because when you step foot in the bakery by your apartment, you end up right behind him in line, and you're stuck crying to your universe that perhaps he would forget you had ever handed him a paper file in the digital age.

no, not that you were embarrassed that you'd be recognized by him for such a small act. you'd be embarrassed if that was the only thing he could recall about you.

"It's you!" He mirrors a brightness in your eyes the first time you had met him, and you blink at him as you wait for the next words. "I loved your story."

That makes your shoulders soften, and you scratch at your cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I don't think I've been gifted a personally written story in a while."

"I'm glad." You squeeze your fingers together, gloves hanging off your wrists as he tilts his head with a smile.

"Do you have time?"

You blink at him. "I was planning on getting some work done here, but I suppose it depends?"

"Would you be willing to talk about your story with me?" He stares earnestly, and you think it's a little too much for someone he barely knows. It's a little overwhelming, but you think you should've seen it coming.

When you give to the universe, you suppose it gives back in strange ways.

You shouldn't be as surprised that someone is handing a piece of their universe as a thank you for a piece of yours.

"What do you want to drink? I can pay."

And you suppose his universe gifting yours back just comes in the wonders of allowing you a glimpse into his.

#mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･𖤓 mgghoney #sometimes the need to be besties with ur fav celebrity takes over the embarrassment of posting rpf i will wake up in the morning and die <3 #do NOT let this cute first chapter fool you. the vast majority of this fic will be mild crack

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whrfchnn · 9 months ago

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Jungkook with a chubby girlfriend Pt.2 !

Pairing : Idol!Jungkook x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings : Nsfw headcanons after the sfw, I will include a cut and another warning though.

Mona’s notes : Edited & proofread by my wife. Minors dni! I’m not responsible for what you consume on the internet. Part one here! Reblogs are very much appreciated <3

SFW !

• He’s the type to take your insta pictures for you and hype the fuck out of you, I’m talking “Yes mama!”+ “mhmmm look at those hips”+ “those curves my god” + “that’s my sexy lady” and so much more.

• Literally lives for your stomach pudge and your fupa?? Yup, he’s crazy for it.

• He knows you so fucking well that it’d take him just one single look to know how you’re feeling. If he catches you double checking yourself in the mirror with your hand slyly pulling down your shirt to cover yourself, he’d be up on his feet immediately and listing all the beautiful things about you, aka everything.

• We all know he’s basically a gym rat, and what’s a better trope than gym rat bf x chubby gf?? Absolutely nothing. He’d look so big and buff beside you it’d make you feel tiny and protected.

• When you’re out with him and get some looks from both men and women, he’d just stare at them and make them uncomfortable with a hand wrapped around your waist, holding your tummy (that’s how big his hands are).

• He adores it when he sees you cooking in the kitchen wearing a tank top, shorts, and no bra. You’d be minding your own business, and he’d just come up behind you and grab a boob or both and fiddle with it, other times he’d grab your tummy and squish it while whispering good morning and sweet nothings in your ear.

• During his late night lives, he’d go on and on about you, talking about a very simple feature of you in such beautiful detail; it could be a dimple or a specific stretch mark, he’s smitten.

• Imagine him sleepily blabbing about you;

• “my girlfriend is the best”

• “I’m gonna marry her and make her my queen- she’s already my queen, but an upgrade-not that she needs an upgrade”

• lmao, you get it.

Nsfw below, do not proceed if it’s not to your liking

or if you’re a minor !

NSFW !

• A lil nsfw version of him taking your pics; “You’re making me so hard” + “What if I were to just bend you over right now?”.

• When your looking at yourself in the mirror, he’d come up behind you, hold your tum tum, and whisper dirty shit into ur ear all while he makes you hold eye contact with him.

• When he takes consensual pictures/videos of you riding him, his hand would either be holding your hip or grabbing a handful of your ass.

• Considering the proven fact that Namjoon loves thick girlies, Jungkook would - with your consent send him some of the videos of you riding him and throwing it back at him just to see Joon literally fall apart. He can look, but he can’t touch.

• On that note, when Jungkook has you over, he’d make sure to tap that ass extra hard so you’d be louder, and his bandmates would be forced to listen to you and suffer with their own boners…If only Jungkook would let them hit it…If only.

• This man is filthy rich, so prepare yourself to be spoiled to the max. New sets of lingerie every fucking day, if he can’t choose between two, he’ll buy you both… and an extra one.

• That hot portrait on his wall? That’s you and him; he’s shameless when it comes to you and doesn’t even bother hiding it when he’s on live. He’d simply do anything to show you off, even if it means getting in trouble with management.

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just-another-siimp · 2 years ago

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Alone

You're the 141st's medic, assigned to work alongside Ghost, Soap and the Los Vaqueros. Everything changes when you return to Alejandro's base, separated from your team and armed with only a knife this would be your hardest mission yet.

This time you're being stalked from the Shadows.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Graves being Graves, Descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, murder, blood, reader is being stalked, Graves is a dick, kidnapping, Ghost and Soap being an old married couple. If I missed anything let me know <3 Note: I hope you're all as keen as I am! This took ages to write but i'm super keen for the next part. Don't forget to like and reblog, it gives me serotonin. Edit: 30/01/23 all pronouns have been changed to gn.

Enemy at the Gate || Alone || Prison Break || Epilogue

Alejandro had once told you that Las Almas was a beautiful city, despite the cartels and the near constant violence it was a home to many. Though in the dead of the night, with the screams of innocent people being slaughtered by men who thought they had the right to choose who was good and who was bad.. It was difficult to see the beauty he had described to you. Not when you were alone.

Your muscles ached, burned from the position you’d been crouched in. Minutes seemed to last hours as you waited for the Shadows to pass. They had been sweeping through the building you were hiding in just moments before your arrival, blood stained the wall next to you, its previous owner laying lifeless not far from your feet. There was nothing that you could do to save any of these people, not if you wanted to survive as well. Ignoring the guilt that crept up your spine you forced yourself to look away from the body, focusing on the task at hand. Get out of Las Almas. That’s all you had to do. Any other plans could be made after that.

The remaining Shadows had moved on, leaving you in an eerie silence. Peeking out of the window you saw nothing, the street in front of you was clear. Across the street was a clothing store, the door was wide open offering the perfect path to safety. With little effort you jumped out of the window, staying low to the ground, checking one last time to ensure that you wouldn’t be seen by a stray Shadow before moving into the store.

From behind the rattle of a glass bottle rolling along Las Almas’ cobbled roads filled your ears, it was close enough to startle you. If this was a horror movie, the main character would go back outside and investigate the strange noise. This however, was not a horror movie, even if it felt like you’d been thrown directly into one. Cautious not to knock anything over you turned back around, eyes scanning the street you’d just crossed trying to find the source of the noise. There was nothing. Probably just your imagination.

Releasing the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding you moved further into the store, further into darkness, further out of sight. Not aware that if you turned around, just as the lightning illuminated the streets you would’ve seen him. The hulking figured what lurked in the shadows.. Watching you.

A few feet ahead of you stood a lone Shadow his back was to you, too focused on the rat that had just scurried out and over his feet. Your hand ached, grip on the knife too tight as you waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. The Shadow was taller than you, roughly Soap’s size. Which in a way helped, Ghost had spent weeks helping you perfect a stealth takedowns, often using the Scotsman as a test dummy. Relaxing your grip a fraction, the way Ghost had taught you to, you shifted your weight. Two steps forward and you stood on broken glass, the noise almost comically loud as you lifted your arms to strike down the Shadow.

There was a struggle, he’d turned pushing you back into the house, his surprised shout concealed by the thunder overhead. His fist connected with your stomach, effectively knocking the air from your lungs and knife from your hand. The shadow tried kicking your feet out from underneath you, as the world tilted you grabbed onto him taking him down with you. Both of you wrestled on the ground, attempting to pin the other down. You cried out in pain as he twisted your wrist into an uncomfortable position, yelling at you to surrender. In your ear the comms cracked to life, Soaps voice barely audible in your ear.

“T.. is Bra.. 7-1 in- blind. How copy?” The distraction would’ve been deadly if the Shadows were out to kill you, except they weren’t and you’d have to use that to your advantage. You pushed upwards, giving yourself enough space to kick the Shadow back. Desperately your hands reached out for something to defend yourself with, anything to get the prick off of you. Your luck changed as you wrapped your fingers around the hilt of your knife. “Ghost? Chip? This is 7-1, do you copy?”

“Stand down Chip! Graves wants you alive- but I’m not afraid to hurt you!” Within seconds the Shadow had you pinned down, one hand clamped over your mouth while the other gripped your empty hand. “So this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to surrender, you’re not going to try and escape and you’re go-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, knife plunging into the space between his ribs directly into his left lung. His unfinished sentence was reduced to nothing but a pained gurgle, he was choking on his own blood some splattering on your face has he fell to the side. Pulling the knife from his side you managed to sit up, pushing yourself backwards until you met the wall trying to control the shake in your hands has his blood pooled at your feet.

“Soap- this is Ghost. How Copy? Johnny… Johnny how copy?”

“Solid”

“Thought we lost ya.”

“Anything from Chip, Lt?”

“Nothing.”

Ghosts' voice pulled you out of your momentary shock, eyes still fixated on the Shadows limp body. You never even knew his name, but the way his lifeless eyes bore into yours would stick with you forever. Cleaning the knife on the fabric of your pants you took a moment to catch your brother after standing, knowing full well that you needed to report in. Soap and Ghost needed to know that you were alive, venturing through Las Almas and that the Shadows were after you. Yet when you opened your mouth to speak nothing came out.

“Chip.. this is Ghost. How copy?” There was a pause. Finally you looked away from the dead shadow, hand reaching to unmute your comm. “Chip.. How copy?”

“Solid.” Your voice shook slightly, bending down to grab the P890. 8 bullets, that’s all you had and hopefully all you needed. “Just took down a Shadow.”

“Good to hear from you, Bonie.” Soap sounded almost relieved hearing your voice. “Heard you scream, thought they’d gotten ya.”

“I watched you get shot, thought the same.”

From your current position the Church wasn’t far away, you could see it peeking out from above the buildings now. It couldn’t be more than 400? Maybe 500 metres away? ALl you had to do was reach Ghost, then wait for Johnny at the church. You could only assume that he wasn’t too far behind, you’d wanted to wait for him, safety in numbers feeling more secure than walking through Las Almas alone. Ghost had advised against it, sitting still for too long in one spot was like asking the Shadows to find you. Especially after you killed one of their own. The rain seemed to be pouring harder now, soaking you to the bone as you waited for a patrol to pass.

“It’s pishin’ it doon out here.”

“Speak English.”

“It’s raining fucking hard.”

You were forced to hold back laughter, moving from behind a dumpster and into another house. In the dark you fashioned another piece of metal into a pry, forcing your way through a locked door and into a back alley. There was a singular shadow, his back turned to you. Unaware of your presence as you crept up on him. This time he didn’t hear you over the rain, he didn’t turn when you covered his mouth with your hand, he didn’t fight back as life left his body. Without looking back you pushed forwards, ignoring the blood on your hands as you moved further down the empty street.

Why did killing bother you so much? It hadn’t before. Sure you were a combat medic you were supposed to be saving people, but combat was in the name and you saw enough of it. You’d fought in enough of it too. Perhaps it was because you’d served alongside the Shadows, patched them out both on base and on the battlefield. Now you were killing them before they tried to kill you, it felt so.. immoral.

“Ghost?”

“Chip.”

“I killed another Shadow.”

“Good, one less for Johnny to deal with on his way here.” You squared your shoulders, knife feeling heavy in your hands as you continued moving. “Look kid, I know none of this is easy but remember who the real enemy is. Graves betrayed us, don’t go feeling sorry for ‘im and his men.”

“You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“Ghost?”

“Yes, love?”

“The Shadows don’t want me dead, if something happens- if I get caught.” You paused, looking up at the sky letting the rain clean the dirt, grime and blood from your face. “Promise me you won’t come after me, not unless you’ve got enough guns to kill these sonsofbitches.”

“No ones getting left behind, Chip. That means you too.”

For the second time tonight you heard something out of the ordinary, you were supposed to be alone this whole time and you could’ve sworn you heard footsteps behind you just now. “Standby-”

You felt exposed here, even with plenty of cover the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Turning back to stare into the darkness you found it staring back at you, no one was there it must’ve been your imagination. Paranoia creeping up on you after being alone in a place so dangerous for so long.

Standing from your crouched position you took a couple of steps backwards, eyes not leaving the darkness until you were sure that no one was there. Wiping the water from your eyes you planned on turning around again, only stopping when lightning illuminated the sky. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating then and there, breath caught in your chest as the silhouette of a man flashed before your eyes. He was staring right at you, unmoving. Darkness engulfed the alley again.

“Found you.” His voice followed him out of the darkness, taunting you as he stepped into the light. Your eyes widened, fear almost paralysing as you took in the size of the man before you, he was probably an inch or so shorter than ghost but built bigger than he was. You searched for a weapon, stolen pistol pointed directly at him half expecting him to do the same. Instead he only continued to walk forward, unarmed. You fired two warning shots. He continued stalking towards you, green eyes filled with something malicious he didn’t even flinch. “Graves ‘as been tryin to find ya. Come along lil Darlin’, you’ve kept ‘im waitin’ long enough and ‘m startin’ ta get bored followin ya everywhere.”

In your ear you could hear Ghost saying something to Soap, you ignored them as you took a step back. You fired four shots this time, only one hitting him in the chest. He was armoured, heavily so. You were surprised he’d gotten this far without you hearing him. You had two bullets left, he was laughing as he lunged towards you knocking the pistol out of your hands as you attempted to get away from him. Using speed to your advantage you ran.

The Alley led to a set of stairs, you bolted up them with the Shadow hot at your heels. As you reached an open door you grabbed it, flinging it back as you ran through hoping to slow the brut of a man down. It didn’t. Climbing up the stairs you jumped out of a window dropping into a garden bed and rolling once before running across the courtyard, you turned to see how far away the Shadow was to find nothing. Still you didn’t stop, not wanting to find out what would happen if he caught up to you.

“Ghost, I’ve got one big scary looking Shadow following me.”

“Think you can get to the church?”

“I’ll have to.”

“‘Good, get to it.”

You were less than 200 metres from the church now, from where you stood it looked magnificent. Perhaps this was the beauty that Alejandro spoke of, maybe one day when this was all over you’d be able to visit Las Almas. See the town in a different light, one that wasn’t caked in the blood of innocent men, women and children.

“Ghost I’m almost there, no sign of tall and brooding but I’m sure he’s out there.”

“I’m in the tunnels, Hen. Anything happens and I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Soaps voice piped up, giving you hope that you’d get out of there without any further issues. That hope was dashed just as quickly as it had appeared, out of the corner of your eye you caught the same Shadow running towards you and just like that the chase began again.

You didn’t have a chance to tell Soap or Ghost, instinct screamed at you to run and not look back. The Church wasn’t far away now, just one street between you and the main square. One street between you, Ghost and Johnny. Taking a chance you turned the corner without looking, not seeing the two Shadows that stood waiting for you guns raised.

“Drop your weapon!”

“You’re surrounded, Chip. There’s no point in trying to run now.” There wasn’t even a chance for you to drop your weapon, both of them had dropped to the ground in front of you. In your ear the comm cracked to life again a soft grunt in your ear as the firing continued, it was directed at something else. Maybe Soap. Looking up at the Church you almost smiled. “Little darlin’.. if you think I’m gonna let ya get away, you’re mistaken.”

“What the fu-”

His hand was wrapped around your throat before you could finish your sentence, it took no effort for him to lift you in the air slamming you against the nearest wall. Pain spread across your back and shoulders, tears stinging at your eyes. That was going to sting later. Gasping for air you clawed at his arm, kicked at his shins, anything to get in a breath of air. He only smiled at you, pressing down harder on your throat tiny black dots starting to fill your vision. The world tilted and you were on the floor, gasps audible over the comms as you tried to catch your breath.

“Gh-ghost.” His boot connected with your stomach, your body collapsing to the ground gasping violently for the air it had been deprived of . A pained whimper left your lips as he twisted your arm behind your back, plastic zip ties secured around your wrists tight enough to cut off circulation. Next he pulled out your comms, Ghosts yelling audible as he crushed the tech under his boot.

“Now now, you’ve got a meeting with the boss, Lil Dove.”

“Fuck you-” you managed to spit out before his foot connected with your face.

Time was a concept in your current state, you vaguely remembered being thrown into a car only conscious long enough for someone to knock you out again. Everything was dark, your head spun, you wanted to throw up. A bright light pulled you back into consciousness yet you couldn’t open your eyes, had you been drugged? The steel chair underneath you was uncomfortable, your body ached as you tested your restraints.

“Well look who finally woke up.” The sound of footsteps was enough for you to force your eyes open, head tilted backwards as you glared at Phillip Graves wishing you could punch that stupid smirk off of his stupid face. “Welcome back to the land of the living Chip. You slept in.”

“It’s what happens when someone kicks you in the face.” The taste of iron filled your mouth as you spoke, once Graves was close enough you spat the blood at his feet directly hitting his shoes. The back of his hand struck your face, it was totally worth it. This time you smirked at him, looking him dead in the eye. “I won’t cooperate, whatever it is you want me to do I won’t do it.”

“Oh but that’s the thing, sweetheart. I think you’ll do exactly as you’re told.” His face was closer now, you could feel his breath on your own, instinctively you turned your head away.

“Fuck off Graves, I want nothing to do with your Shadows and their bullshit.” You couldn’t stop the wince that left your lips as his hand grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t have a choice, Chip. You’ll do as you’re told or I’ll kill every last Los Vaqueros in this place, their lives. They’re in your hands.” He let go of your chin, arms folded across his chest as he looked down at you. "So what is it Chip? Will you let everyone die?"

---

Taglist: @komorebiiiiiiii @mauveserpent @mydogeatscoffeecups @reiya-djarin @underatreedrinkingtea

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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Douse the Lights

A/N: I have no excuse for this, except I love one (1) Din Djarin and he deserves this and so do we. Enjoy! A little Happy New Year gift from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV, choking, degradation, creampie...filth. This is just filth.

STUTTER SOMETHING PROFOUND (PART 2)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop kriffing staring at me.”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“You,” with a sharp turn of your head you saw that he wasn’t even near you. Nope. Not at all.

Kriff. Awkward.

“Lothcat got your tongue, Princess?” you’d never seen his face, but Maker, you just knew there was a wicked smirk on it.

“Just mind your own business,” stowing away your clean blasters with a huff, you prayed with all your might that he couldn’t see the flush of warmth on your face or hear the crack in your voice. You hated him. Everything about him.

At least you wanted to; you would have given anything in the galaxy to. It would make constantly being around the Mandalorian that you called your employer a lot easier.

Maybe if you kept repeating it yourself, you would manifest it to become true. That you could hate that annoying, half-witted, tin can.

“Thought that’s what I was doing,” there was the most minute inkling of amusement in his voice as he came over, lithe and silent - ever the hunter. He was at your side in an instant, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the beskar as he sent shivers up and down your spine. Along with the low pooling of heat and desire settling in your belly, but you were going to ignore that for now.

Almost as if he knew the effect he had on you, he made it a point to brush a gloved hand over yours as he nudged you to the side to inspect some of the weapons he’d tasked you with cleaning. You had to be quick in order to shut your mouth and keep a small whimper from escaping your lips.

How long had it been since someone last touched you? Maker, it had been….dank farrik. It had been way too long. A simple hand brush - there wasn’t even skin to skin contact - and you felt like a lothcat in heat. You really needed to get...some company and have your frustrations taken out or surely you would explode. There was no way you were to give Mando the satisfaction of knowing the type of hold he seemed to possess over you.

Perhaps once you were out of this more than awkward conversation you could slip out for a few hours and seek some pleasure. The little one had just gone down for a nap a short bit ago, and he was likely to be out for some time. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem for a few hours. Then you could -

“These are still dirty,” was his voice always that rough and low? He had to be doing it on purpose, surely. Before you could contemplate it too much, he took one of the blasters and shoved it back into your hands. Not rough or gentle, but with enough firmness to remind that he was in charge. You looked it over and raised your eyebrows as you inspected it yourself - it was polished to an almost pristine shine, “clean them again. All of them.”

“What the fuck, Mando,” you scoffed with indignation as you rolled your eyes at him, shoving the blaster right into of the black T of his visor. You waved it almost as if to prove your point, “this is clean. I dare you to find a cleaner blaster in this Maker forsaken galaxy.”

He was quick to your grab your wrist, his grip was firm as he kept your hand from moving. You didn’t normally argue with your stoic and mysterious employer, but this was apparently new and uncharted territory. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a shift between the two of you, something had changed. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could cut it with the dullest of knives as you stared back at him.

“Clean it again,” it was a growl that went straight to your cunt as you subconsciously clenched your thighs at the sound. Either this was a one time deal that you would commit to memory or you were going to make it a point to annoy him more often. As he stared you down, he slowly let go of your wrist and pointed at the discarded cleaning rag, “and make sure its actually clean this time.”

“You are the worst,” you tried to retain the little bit of composure that you had remaining as you swiped the blaster back.

“And you are a brat,” brat. Brat. Brat. Brat. Of all the words available in all of the galaxy, he had to choose that one. This was absolutely on purpose. The Mandalorian never did anything without careful planning and calculating the risks. The same could be said with his words; this was all carefully and deliberately chosen. He cocked his head to the side, almost as if trying to gauge your reaction, “but here we are. Get them clean.”

“Or what?” it was a mere pathetic squeak as found yourself almost unable to meet his face.

“Just get it done.”

Without another word he strode away, as silent and dangerous as he was when he first came in. If you were stronger, if you weren’t a weak little fool, you would have looked away and focused on your work.

But no. Not today.

Instead you watched him go, staring shamelessly at his imposing figure as he moved to disappear back into the cockpit to do whatever it was that he did.

Was his ass always that nice? Were those thighs always so strong and sturdy? Was he always so damn broad and wide?

Shit.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you hissed at yourself as you picked the rag back up and slammed yourself back down on the bench in order to re-clean all the weapons that you had just done. He wanted clean weapons? You’d give him the cleanest blasters he’d ever seen.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost an hour had crept by when you’d finished your second round of cleaning. At this point you honestly didn’t care if the Mandalorian deemed the job satisfactory or not. The longer you had ruminated on his words, the more frustrated you became.

Each word, each touch seemed burned into your mind as you let your imagination take over. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him before. There had been a number of sleepless nights when you imagined it had been his hand between your thighs, his fingers running through your slick folds before they slipped inside of you. On nights when you really couldn't help yourself, you even imagined it was his cock, how he would feel buried to the hilt inside of you. You wondered what he would be like, but something - this day in particular - told that he was big. And he would get the job done.

But it wasn’t going to happen.

Nope. No. Nah. You were just his sidekick little employee that most definitely was not going to act on any impulsive or rash decisions. You might have been a lot of things, including a huge fool in that moment, but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t need to create some unnecessary strain in your relationship with the stoic warrior or even worse, lose your job and home and be left stranded in a forgotten corner of the galaxy.

Even as you tried to rationalize all the ways in which acting on your impulses was a horrible idea, the frustration and the throbbing between your legs didn't wane. You were getting so desperate and pathetically needy that you sat on the edge of your small bench just at the angle so you could get a little bit of friction on your clit. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

As you rocked back and forth, trying to keep the little mewls and whines from slipping past your lips, you realized you couldn't do this.

You couldn't risk getting caught by the Mandalorian. Oh yes, everything's fine, just getting myself off. Don't worry, I'm super horny because of you. Yeah of course I'd love your cock.

Yeah. Cool, cool, cool. This would never happen.

Just when you before you reached your breaking point and had your hands halfway to your soaked core, you stopped.

"Kriff," you sighed to yourself as you pulled your hand back out and stood up. What the actual fuck had gotten into you? A few commanding words you were completely losing your control. Either you were desperate for a release from something other than your own hand or you craved the mysterious Mandalorian.

Hastily stashing the impeccably clean blasters back into the weapons cache, you discarded the rag as you quickly came up with a plan.

Tiptoeing quietly back to where the little one was sleeping, you sneaked a peek and saw that he was still fast asleep. He wouldn't even notice you were gone - that's what you tried to convince yourself as you delicately touched his soft ears and button nose.

You weren't sure if you were speaking of the Mandalorian or the baby. At this point you really didn't care.

You glanced back at the ladder towards the cockpit, watching almost as if you expected him to come down and catch you sneaking out. Hells, technically he'd know as soon as you left the ship. You scrawled a quick note telling him that you needed a cleaner or something, in your haste you couldn't even remember what you put, and would need to go to the market.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was totally plausible, you insisted to calm your own nerves as you slipped on your boots and a cloak before making your final decision to leave. Attempting to be as quiet and subtle as possible, you slowly made your way off the Crest and started scurrying towards the nearby desolate town of Mos Eisley. In reality you looked more like a scrap rat scurrying away from the light than a woman heading into town to find something.

Whatever.

Mos Eisley wasn’t exactly known for its sparkling reputation, and you were sure you could get exactly what you wanted quickly enough. In and out, you thought to yourself as a flush rose in your check, well precisely that. For at least you were hoping.

But the Mandalorian, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for a reason, and didn’t miss a single trick. He was aware of what you were doing before you even left the cargo hold. If he was this frustrated and turned on you by you, his cock hard and straining against the confines of his pants, he was sure you must have been in the same position.

Oh, but he had been close to breaking, just like you. How easy it would have been to seal the hatch to the cockpit and relieve himself of the desire and ache. But no - just like you he had limits and wasn’t about to give in and stroke his hard cock while you were within earshot. No matter times he had imagined it - fucking your mouth or burying himself deep between your luscious heat before pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t going to give in this easily.

He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but with your little backtalk and the way you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes and pretty pouted lips sure had him feeling like one. The thought of burying himself inside you, to watch as you bounced on his cock with your tits in his face was enough to make up his mind.

One time couldn’t hurt, right? People had casual encounters all the time.Why should this one be any different? If you were willing of course, although judging by how your pupils had dilated with each word from his mouth, had little doubt you felt the same way; but consent of course was key.

And tomorrow? You’d be back to being the same way you had always been.

Hopefully. Maybe. Probably.

Fuck.

This was a bad idea, and the small, sensible part remaining in his brain told him so. But he was too far in, too deep and lost in his own desires to stop himself.

He was watched as you ran away, deciding to wait until you were halfway to Mos Eisley before going after you. He’d take the kid to Pelli, sure she’d more than happy to watch him for the night. The rest? That was to be all consumed by you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The old cantina was dirty, dingy, and smelly. There was no doubt in your mind it must have been at least a decade since it was cleaned, and yet it still remained a hot spot; granted not for those of politer society, but enough to get the job down. You pushed that to the back of your mind as you clambered through the crowd and to the bar, sitting down next to a handsome Zabrak you had spied when you’d walked in. You’d never been with one his kind before, but you’d heard rumors of them, especially when it came to their prowess behind closed doors, and something within you was piqued.

He must have sensed something was up - as soon as you sat down, he motioned for the bartender to come back and bring the two of you a new round.

“You’re new here,” he said gruffly, a dangerous edge to his voice, sharp like a knife as he took one of the luminescent drinks and shoved the other towards you.

Before you could even move to grab your drink or utter so much as a word in response, a hand darted and quickly grabbed your wrist, the grip biting and firm.

“She’s mine,” the words washed over you before you could even turn to look at the Mandalorian. His chest was rising and falling heavy as his visor was trained on your would be companion for the night. A shudder ran up your spine as he pulled you off the stool, the two men glaring at each wordlessly.

He pulled you behind him, storming out of the cantina as the crowds parted at the sight of the gleaming silver beskar. They knew better than to stand in the way of the Mandalorian. You felt like a child being scolded as he refused to acknowledge you, keeping his gaze trained straight as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

“What the hell, Mando?” your question was an indignant shout as your voice climbed an octave. His grip didn’t waver for a moment as he grunted in his response. Oh, he was mad. Yup. Definitely. You had fucked up.

Any thought of talking back or prodding him further were estopped as you could see him fuming as he dragged your ass back to the Crest.

This was it, you realized. This was the end where he would fire you and send you packing. Of all the places in the galaxy to be stranded, Tatooine was not one of your top destinations. No one to blame but yourself, you reckoned.

Instead you hung your head as he refused to look back, making quick work of opening the cargo hold and shoving you inside. There was something about his touch that was rough, almost sending you falling to your ass, but there was still an odd gentleness.

You stared back at the blank visor in challenge, attempting to figure out what was going on. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at you. Neither of you were about to get a good read on each other.

“Did you really think it was a good idea to just walk away without saying anything?” his voice was dangerously low as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with either a smart response or an excuse but instead of anything coherent, it was a mixture of the two. Great. Now he's going to think you were an idiot on top of everything else.

“I didn’t...just um...doesn’t matter what you...I needed something from the market?” you swallowed the lump on your throat as you dropped your gaze to the floor. He sighed for a moment - heavily - as you’d come to know was his penchant to do.

“You needed something from the market?” it wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Mhmm.”

“What was it?”

“C-cleaner,” you lied. Somehow it sounded better than saying yeah, I really just wanted a quick fuck because you have me feeling some type of way.

“There's a new cleaner right in the cabinet,” he said as you internally groaned. He was right - there was a brand new gleaming bottle on the top shelf. He’d gotten some last week, “or did you conveniently forget that?”

“Umm,” you couldn’t get anything else out as he took a step closer and left minimal distance between your bodies. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, turning your face up to meet his, “uh huh.”

“Uh huh, honey,” his voice warmed you up from inside out as you gave him an innocent look. If he hadn’t known what he was doing earlier, he certainly did now. And he was going to milk every second of it, to push this as far as it would go. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a subconscious gesture, but not unnoticed by the Mandalorian. His hand slipped from your chin and jaw and slid until he was gently holding your throat. His grip was light, and he was barely squeezing, but Maker, you wished he was, “is that really what you were going to do?”

“Y-yeah,” how much longer were you going to keep up this little facade? You had no clue. But the feel of his hand around your airway, pushing slightly, ever so slightly, had your mind positively reeling.

“Then why did you go to that filthy old cantina?” he leaned closer, his helmet mere inches from your face as you closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your ears as you the heat pooled in your belly, “why were you talking to Zabrak? Did you really think he was going to fuck you? To make you feel good?”

“Mhmm,” you managed to murmur after a few beats of silence as you realized what was happening. This was new, uncharted territory - for the both of you - and if you went any further, there would be no going back. And you - fuck it. Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look into the visor, right where his eyes would be, “needed someone to do it, since you never would.”

And there it was - finally out in the open and hanging thickly between the two of you. All you could ever was a small huff from under the helmet and you were positive he was smirking like a victorious predator.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked and you nodded. Give and take and then...it all broke, “get on your knees. Now.”

And you wasted no time sinking onto the cool metal floor, now level with his cock, where you could see the hardness straining against his rough fabric. Shaky fingers worked to hastily pop the button and pull the zipper, but just before you could get to what you wanted, Din roughly grabbed jaw, turning your face up to his, “you take what I give. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each word. But then, with another gentle tap to your chin, he seemed almost...gentle, “Mando?”

“If you don’t want this, just say stop,” he waited for you to nod as you a sense of warmth fluttered over you at his desire for consent, “I will not be gentle, I will not-”

“Give it to me then,” you beamed at him before turning back to his cock and pulling out of his underwear. You almost moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking already; and just as your little fantasies had led you to believe, he was more than adequate.

Spitting into your palm, you took him in your hand, pumping him a few times before licking the head, just small light licks, just enough to tease. Licking a stripe up his shaft, you played with his balls for a moment, earning what you were sure was a small groan from under the helmet. Making it a point to draw it out, you shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand went to the back of your head as he pushed you onto his cock.

A sound of surprise was muffled by his cock as you took all of him into your mouth, doing your best not to gag as he hit the back of your throat and your nose brushed against the soft curls of hair at his base. Your hands slid up his thighs and found purchase on his hips as he began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly at first, almost as if he was afraid to give too much. When you grew accustomed to him, making it a point to hollow your cheeks and suck him as best as you could, he picked up the pace. And it was brutal in all the best ways, spit was starting to run down your chin along with a few tears that had spilled over, but if nothing else, it worked to spur him on.

“Look at you,” he grunted between thrusts as he took in the sight in front of him, “take me so well. Knew your big mouth had to be good for something. Always wanted to fuck that pretty face.”

You hummed in delight as you raked your nails over the exposed slivers of his skin on his hips, golden and delicious and you wanted it all. His thrusts slowly become more erratic and sloppy as he twitched in your mouth. His hand dropped from the back of your head as you took over and put a hand back on his shaft as you worked to finish him off.

Soon enough he did, followed by an almost primal growl as he came, his hot, thick, cum coating your mouth and you eagerly swallowed all that he offered, which unsurprisingly, was a lot. As his breathing slowed down and he slowly came down from the rush of his high, you pulled back from him, looking up at him with innocent eyes and a wicked smile. You cleaned him off, but just as you went to wipe at your mouth, his gloved hand was faster and he collected the spit and cum that had spilled out and pushed it back into your mouth with two fingers. You grabbed his wrist and made a show of sucking his fingers clean, tasting him along with the worn leather of his gloves.

“Good girl,” he praised before hoisting you to your feet, “strip.”

“What about you?” you turned your head to the side, but he shook his head in response. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was having second thoughts, but just quickly, he whipped off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor before putting a hand on your cheek and stroking it tenderly. You swallowed thickly before nodding and working to pull off your clothes.

First was your shirt, tugging slowly over your chest and tossed down to join the gloves. Your arm went to your back as you tugged off your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders as an almost nervous breath escaped your lips.

“Keep going,” he commanded, eyes trained slowly on you as he drank in the sight of you. You undid your own zipper and pulled your pants and panties down in one fluid motion before kicking them off along with your boots and socks. You’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in that moment, wanting to cover up but also relishing in the fact that you seemed to have rendered the Mandalorian speechless. He looked you up down, not bothering to hide the fact as he looked at your form, glancing at your soft mound before your breasts and then landing back on your face.

Beckoning for you to come closer with a simple crook of his fingers, you did so, standing directly in front of him. His hand flitted from your cheek and down your body before resting at the apex of your thighs. You gasped lightly in surprise as he dragged his fingers through your soaked folds, coating them in your copious arousal, before chuckling darkly. A hand immediately went to his shoulder as you steadied yourself and tried not to completely lose it at the simple touch, “all of this for me, honey?”

“Mhmm,” you admitted as he gently rubbed over your clit, teasingly in the slowest, most tantalizing way possible. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “always think about you. Always get so wet.”

He made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled his fingers away from your wetness and brought them to your lips. He tapped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, sucked his fingers clean from your own arousal, “I’ve thought about fucking you too. That mouth, that pussy. You’re such a brat, but you drive me crazy.”

“I like when you get mad,” you said as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, “‘s sexy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice deeper and lower than ever before, and you felt your knees start to buckle at the sheer sex it exuded, He brought his large, warm hands to your tits, touching over your pebbled nipples as you bit back a moan. While you wished it his mouth on them instead, this touch was just as well, as he massaged them, trying to get a good feel of them and seeing what drew out those sweet mewls from you. But before you could enjoy it too much, one hand gripped your waist like a vice and the other went between your legs. He ran his thick fingers through your folds, before slowly inserting one into your wet heat. You moaned as he slowly inserted another and then a third, stuffing you full and already having you seeing stars in no time, “make yourself cum.”

“What?” your eyes snapped open as he stilled his actions, “you’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he lightly teased your clit, eyes boring into yours, “you act like a brat and you want to cum? You have to work for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned as he moved to pull his hand away, as if to show you just how serious he was. This time, you caught his wrist and held him in place. He chuckled lightly in triumph as one of your hands returned to his shoulder for balance and the other went to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He held completely still, a practiced and patient man, as he made you work for it. He wasn’t kidding by any means when he said he would not be gentle.

He remained quiet, watching your pretty face shift through a range of expressions as you worked to reach your own high. He was glad for the helmet, for if you had been watching him, you’d have seen the tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d envisioned this many times, no doubt about that, but he’d never thought it would become a reality. Maker, you were gorgeous as you thrust onto his hand using him for your own pleasure a string of gentle filth spilled from your lips as you rubbed slow circles onto your clit.

“Mandooo,” it was soft as you felt that familiar blinding haze start to take over you, and your toes involuntarily curled and your cunt started to clench around his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as your vision turned blurry and that familiar warmth started to spread all over your limbs. He felt his cock twitch from where he had tucked himself back in after you’d pleasured him. Before you could finish though, something different met your ears.

“Din,” he said as bit your lip in order to keep from crying out completely, “my name is Din.”

And there it was. Completely unexpected and out of the blue. It wasn’t just a name - no it was so much more than it. It was a sign of trust, of closeness, of the fact that whatever this little situation was, it was neither the first or only time something like this would happen. No, your story with Mando may have come to an abrupt end, but your relationship with Din was just beginning.

It was almost as his name, uttered softly and almost unsurely, was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge as you came around his fingers. A soft moan left your lips along with the sweetest sound he was sure he’d ever heard, “Din.”

A merciful man when he chose to be, he took over for you and worked you through your orgasm as you almost collapsed into his arms, “there you are pretty girl. You did so well, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Not enough,” you rested your against the soft cowl of his neck as he pulled his hand from you, but not before slapping your ass a few times, almost as if testing to see how far he could push you. You made a few sounds of delight at the sting, only spurring him on as he slapped and then gently needed the ample flesh of your backside, “please, need you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you need, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear as he pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, taking in the already blissed out expression on your features, “you want me to fuck you? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you were practically ready to beg at this point, “I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

At your words, he almost dragged you to the small bed that was reserved for you in the corner and motioned for you to sit. You watched with eager eyes as he scrambled for the waistband of his pants and hastily pulled them down and kicked them off, letting them join your discarded clothes. He practically ripped off the rest of the beskar until he was bared in front of you, save for the helmet. His cock was already painfully hard again, standing at attention and leaking fat drops of precum.

“Can I trust you?” he asked as you nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. You’d never questioned the fact that you’d never seen his face or that he apparently just never showed it to anyone. You respected him and his decisions, and you’d never dare to push the envelope or destroy his trust.

“Always,” you promised as he walked over to the wall and hit the switch for lights, cloaking the room in darkness. You sucked in a breath before you heard him shuffling about and the beskar helmet clanged against the metal floor. He stood in front of you, you could feel his breathing as he touched your cheek before wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Hands and knees,” he instructed with a delicious rasp, made even better by the lack of filtering from the vocoder of his helmet, “now.”

The singular word was enough to send a fresh rush of arousal through your veins, as you laid on your belly on the small cot before positioning yourself so your ass was in the air. He shuffled behind you, his large hands grazing over the soft flesh of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart before dragging a thick finger through your soaked folds. A small sound of pleasure rippled through your throat as you clutched onto the thin, scratchy blanket of the bed, “please.”

“Quiet,” it was harsh and biting as the palm of his hand slapped your ass, the sting delicious and leaving you wanting more, “you like that, don’t you? You like being spanked, pretty girl.”

“Only by y-y-you,” before you could say anything, he slapped your ass a few more times before kneading the soft flesh to make sure the sting wasn’t too painful.

Mando - no, Din - shifted his weight and you could feel him line himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds. A moan escaped your lips - and his - as he slowly pushed into you, giving you a brief moment to adjust to his considerable size. The stretch was amazing, the slight burn quickly turned into pleasure and you felt full, so completely full. He groaned as he bottomed out, already feeling pussy dumb by the way your velvet walls hugged him, “this - kriff - this pussy is perfect. Just like it was made for me.”

“Din,” you buried your face in your pillow as he pulled out, slowly, before thrusting sharply back into you. He was not lying when he said that he would not be gentle. His large, warm hands went to your hips as he held them in a bruising grip. You were sure you’d bear his marks for days.

He set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with no mercy as he slammed his hips into yours. There was nothing gentle or intimate about, no - this was months and months of pent up frustration and desire coming out all at once. Din was not a talkative man, but as he fucked you into oblivion, he was whispering strings of filth and praise into your ears. All you could do was lie there as he pounded into you, so lost in your own pleasure as you became a whining mess under him.

Before he came, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest. One large hand went to play with your breasts as the other went to your clit as he rubbed and circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open in a blissful haze as he kept going, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your skin and shoulder, alternating between nipping and sucking and making sure to leave plenty of marks so everyone knew you were his.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he grunted in your ear, “taking my cock so well. You love this don’t you? Getting used like this.”

“Mhmm,” you bit your lip as he kept going, kept abusing your spent pussy as he started to stutter in his thrusts, “‘m so close, please, wanna come.”

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he commanded as you nodded, “and I’m going to fill you up and make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” you insisted as you felt your walls clench around him and his cock start to twitch, “only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he turned your head to place a rough kiss on your lips. It was the sheer act of the moment and feel of his stubble that sent you over the edge and cumming all over him. You were like jello in his arms as he held you up, giving you a few more thrusts before spilling inside and coating your walls with his cum, “ahh - fuck - so fucking good. Maker, you feel like no other. Perfect pussy - just for me.”

He held you tightly against his body as he caught his breath, the two of you breathing in sync. You thought he might pull away immediately, but instead, he pressed more kisses, chaste compared to your previous actions, down your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. You couldn’t even form words as you laid there, cockdumb and already feeling his arousal along with your own dripping onto your thigh.

“You did good,” he praised gently before reaching between your legs and scooping up some of his cum that had started dripping out. You whimpered at the touch, still sensitive, and listened as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

Din gently flipped you onto your back so you were lying face up and exposed to him. He sat between your legs and slowly spread them apart, admiring his handy work. He leaned back before climbing off the small and getting on his knees, pulling you towards his face. Just as you had gotten on your knees for him, he kneeled only for you.

“Din,” you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your inner thighs, working his way back to your dripping heat. He nuzzled his nose against you, taking a moment to take it all in, “already so much."

"Come on, honey," his voice was like liquid gold as he reached up and touched your breasts, cupping them easily in his large hands, "you've got another one in you. I know you do. Aren't you a good girl?"

"Mhmm," you arched into his touch as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. How this infuriating man got you to become a pile of mush in his hands you'd never know, but you definitely weren't going to question it. He leaned up and kissed your hips before burying his face between your legs, "I'm your good girl."

And with those words, he licked a long stripe up your soaked folds, still soaked from your combined juices. His nose, which you presumed was aquiline in nature, nudged your clit as he ate you like a starving man. You were the shining prize, glimmering in the distance, and he was the wrecked man crossing the desert to get to you.

This time you didn't even bother to hold back as you mewled and cried, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up at the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. Din hummed in content as he licked and suckled at you, making sure to focus on your clit as you came completely undone.

Reaching down, you carded a hand through his locks - curls - as you pressed his face against your aching core. You could practically feel him smirking against you as he slipped a few fingers inside to join his ministrations. Expertly curling his thick fingers, he quickly found the sweet spot that made your toes curls and you see stars.

"Almost there," he grinned as he gave you a moment of reprieve before diving right back in, "I can feel that perfect cunt squeezing around me. Taste so good, pretty girl."

"D-Din," his name falling from your tongue was like pure magic as he became transfixed by how it sounded. Your mouth dropped open in a small O as your legs shook around him. He pulled his fingers from you as he held down your hips in order to keep you from squirming away from him, "feelssogood - makerohstars - Dindindin."

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," his tongue darted into you for a few moments before he gave your clit a harsh suckle. That was all it took before you came again, screwing your eyes shut as he worked your through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your juices, refusing to waste even a drop, "there you are - taste so fucking good. Perfect."

He was relentless until he was sure you were completely done and a practical ragdoll on the bed. Slowly, he pulled back from you, trailing light kisses up your body, stopping when he got your face. Almost as if he was able to see even in the almost complete darkness, he wiped away your remaining tears. He hesitated for a moment for leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed softly as you rolled onto your side and scooted closer to the wall, making room for him.

It was a big thing you were doing, boundaries had been crossed and blurred and any rules you'd previously had were thrown out the window. Neither of you were sure what came next.

But you did know that you didn't want him to leave - not yet anyway.

"Din?" you asked softly as he pulled the blanket over your spent body; he was surprisingly gentle for a man that had just sent you to heaven and hell and back.

"Yes, pretty girl?"

"Will you stay?" your voice was small as you prepared yourself for defeat and for him to leave.

"Yes," he whispered softly as he slid in under the blanket and next to you, "I'd like that."

"Me too," you admitted as he shifted and pulled you in his arms so you could lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart, "Din?"

“Hmm?”

"I'm in charge next time," you smirked lightly as you kissed his soft skin. He inhaled sharply but you could tell he was into it. The man might have just been in charge, but you had a feeling he might like being told what to do as well - and you were going to find out, "I want to ride you."

"Kriff," he groaned under his breath, "You're going to be the death of me, little brat."

"I'll make it worth your while," you promised with a small yawn, "I'll have you crying in no time - begging me for mercy."

“Mhmm.”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” it was your turn to put your hand on his throat and give it a gentle, but firm squeeze as he stiffened at the feeling, “I know you’re a good boy, Din.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ahhhhh #shes here!

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merakiui · 4 years ago

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Half-Off Love

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader art credit - kentasha1236 on twt cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gold-digging, implied yandere!childe note - thank you so much for 600 followers! o(≧∇≦o) I’ll work hard!

It’s strange. There’s no other adjective to describe the situation you’ve found yourself in.

The ring slides itself onto your steady finger and it’s a miracle your discomfort doesn’t show. Your eyes struggle to meet his, but when they do you’re searching for a reason—for a meaning behind such a generous gift. You’ve witnessed this scene plenty of times before, having scoffed at the couples who decide to take their relationship to the next level. Whether it be in Mondstadt or Liyue, you’ve watched your fair share of angelic proposals. Although this is far from a proposal—at least, you hope it’s not a proposal. You’d feel powerless to decline if Scaramouche put you in such a position, and you’re almost certain he’s aware of this.

But the main thing—you now realize—that’s holding him back is your status and his relationship with you. It’s nothing special, just mere physical attraction rather than the emotional hindrances that come with real, heart-racing love. There’s nothing wholesome in the way you regard one another; it’s just sex.

“Do you like it? I made sure to find only the highest quality gemstone for you.”

And yet when he performs this caring charade, it doesn’t feel like loveless copulation.

Ew, you think, plastering a smile to your face. Since when was Scaramouche so concerned with materialistic signs of affection? He’s far from loving; he’s just pent-up, frustrated from his rigorous job as a Harbinger and so he decides to use you as a means of coping. He almost sounds like Childe with his ineffective flirting methods. You’ve received your fair share of spoils from him as well, and you’ve done everything you could to cull that relationship before it grew out of hand. But now you’re stuck with the lesser side of the coin: another troublesome Fatui Harbinger.

If you didn’t know any better, you might think to chase after Signora or Dottore next. Maybe you’ll aim for the Tsaritsa Herself if you’re especially daring. After all, your life has been nothing but deceit and faux pleasures; there’s little value to a liar’s life. If the Archons wish for your swift end, you’re positive it’ll be a result of your insatiable greed.

“It’s lovely. The color matches my eyes.”

It doesn’t, but you lie about it anyways. And he looks pleased to hear your approval.

“Then perhaps I should get you a bracelet as well? Or would you prefer something with a little more use, such as a pocket watch?”

Why don’t you just lock me up with a collar instead? you think bitterly, already keen on pawning the ring off once the initial luster fades. Since you’re so eager to buy these things for me in hopes that I’ll return. It’s annoying.

“This is more than enough. I don’t want you to spend a fortune on me.” There’s a sweet lilt in your voice as your hand cups his cheek, and he leans into your warm touch, starved of the affection like a stray mutt. ”I only need you per our agreement. You do remember what that is, right?”

He’d be caught dead bending to the desires of someone so insignificant, but he just can’t stay away. Not when your every word is intoxicating poison he’ll readily ingest.

“I’m aware." There’s a sigh in his tone as he pulls away, almost as if he wants to simply sit there and indulge in playful conversation. As if he actually wants to familiarize himself with the real you. But that emotion doesn’t last for long and an irritated expression crawls onto his handsome face as he silently recalls something.

You’re slipping your silks off with grace, curiously tracking his movements. “You look upset. Was it because of what I said?”

“Of course not. You could never upset me.”

Until you get bored of me.

When you cast your robes aside, reaching for Scaramouche’s elaborate outfit, you murmur, “Let me guess. It was that traveler again, wasn’t it? I’m not sure why you’re so hung up on them.” A whimper leaks into your voice and you fix him with a pout. “I’m sad you’d think of others when I’m right here. Aren’t I the only one you need?”

It’s ironic how quickly that line hooks him, dragging him up from the murkiest depths of love that has skewed into obsession. When you tried it out on Childe, he wasn’t so easily swayed. You find their differences to be invigorating. If the arrangement with Childe was still ongoing, you might’ve considered a threesome, if only to wring more glittering treasures out of the both of them. Mora and jewelry galore, it all goes towards your stockpiled savings. And it’s times like these when you’re lucky to have avoided economic business with the Fatui. Being free of Fatui debt has its perks, a bright miracle in your dark relationships. That’s one less tether to Scaramouche and one less reason to cling to him after you’ve had enough.

He smirks at your forced envy, easily pushing you backwards onto the plush mattress once he’s fully undressed. For a brief moment, he pictures your pliant body sprawled across an office desk while he pounds into you from behind, putting on a lewd show for his leering underlings. There’s something arousing about your secret relationship that has strange ideas formulating within his head. He entertains a simple scheme, one in which he’d shed light on your connection; however, the other side of him wants to keep your existence for himself, where no one will disturb the two of you in your pleasurable endeavors.

Perhaps you would truly belong to him if he were to expose you for the fraud you really are. Oh, the joy of trapping an unsuspecting rat in a corner, with no way out but into his open arms. You’ll hardly have any semblance of a choice, but he knows you’ll choose the option that guarantees another chance at life.

Scaramouche thinks about that as he revels in soft, tantalizing foreplay. He knows you aren’t as dedicated to this relationship as he is and he’s almost certain you’ve got others waiting for you in different parts of Teyvat. He’s just another plaything you’ve picked up for the fun of it. And in these moments where you surrender to his touch, your back arching with avaricious thoughts, you seem to forget about the power he truly wields. The thought that he could suffocate you in this very bed with his love alone should have you taking precautions to cover your vulnerability, but you only have your eyes set on one thing—not exactly minding the outcome so long as it’s monetarily favorable.

And if playing into your covetous hands ensures your weekly arrival, he’ll gladly empty his pockets of spare change.

You don’t like this new side of him. Lately he’s been treating this as if the two of you are lovers: slow, sensual thrusts accompanied with the sweetest of promises. You’ve never really minded the filth he’d moan in your ear and now you wish he’d resort to that instead. Loveless words spoken through the veil of lust—that’s what you want to hear.

He envelops you like a smothering fog, fitting himself snugly inside of your tight hole in an embrace that’s oh so familiar. You aren’t used to such gentle treatment and as he kisses along your collarbone you feel yourself going under, having fallen victim to a Harbinger who is normally so cold-hearted. Perhaps he’s more sensitive than you originally thought. Months ago, you wouldn’t have imagined your relationship would grow into something so uncertain, where emotionless love becomes packaged and bogged down with so much feeling.

His lips ghost over yours and there’s a slight pause in his actions. You turn your head to the side, denying his choking affection before it can drag you further into a spiraling abyss of regret. Annoyance swells in his hazy gaze, but he uses your new position to his advantage.

“It’s cute,” he says in a hushed voice, breath tickling your ear, “how you seem to rid yourself of my gifts as soon as they fall into your hands. I wonder where they’ve gone. Into the harbor? Traded off for food and shelter? Do tell me.”

When his grip on your hip tightens to a threatening degree, you resign yourself, opting to hold your tongue as his pace remains brutally slow. Rather than speaking out of line, you raise your hand to his face, and he clasps your wrist in a forceful hold.

The look in his eyes is far from loving—it’s that same obsessed expression Childe wore. And even if he still searches for you for reasons other than sex, you’re aware there’s no luck where Scaramouche is concerned. You can run from Childe because he’ll allow it—because he adores the chase—but Scaramouche hardly finds delight in a game of cat and mouse. You should’ve expected this. After all, he is just as conniving as the rest, always inventing new ways to track down and eradicate that peculiar traveler. Of course he would know about how you handle his presents when he isn’t looking because there’s no denying the stern gazes that would pierce through your backside whenever you went to the market.

"I’d never throw them out like that...” you mumble through another soft moan, hoping he’ll just pick up the pace and be done with you. “Your gifts are priceless.”

And yet the price for your own love is so hefty. If he weren’t Fatui, it might be enough to throw him into lifelong debt.

“Is that so? You seem to put a price on them whenever you visit the marketplace.” His fingers grip your chin, forcing you into an inescapable eye contact. “If you enjoy putting prices on items that you claim are priceless, you won’t mind if I collect a refund for your dishonesty.”

“A...refund?”

Your lustful thoughts evaporate once you realize his pace has become horribly slow, his dick stilling and creating an itch of barely noticeable ecstasy. You wiggle your hips to increase the friction, wanting to get yourself off before his words can sour the mood. Though it’s already spoiled when you recognize the carnal victory shining in his twisted smirk. Your unfortunate fate was sealed the moment you welcomed his company with foolish openness, and you’ve been indebted ever since he decided to spoil you with lavish foods and accessories.

For love that is far from cheap, interest must be paid and your very being makes for the perfect bargain.

It’s weird when he kisses you on your lips rather than on the parts of your body that are normally obscured with delicate cloth. And it’s even weirder when that metaphorical collar binds your throat in a vice. It’s more harrowing than any sort of debt you might’ve garnered and it’s just as inconvenient as his boyish adoration.

Scaramouche doesn’t have to purchase your flimsy, half-off love when it’s already prepackaged and ready for the taking.

“You heard me. A refund is hardly enough punishment for a lying brat, but it will have to suffice for now.”

For now.

Spurred on by his own insinuating threats, he seeks to bruise your very insides with thrusts that are filled with physical vexation rather than the emotional ministrations from before. And since you’re so accustomed to him, your greedy hole eagerly welcomes him.

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact lemon #scaramouche lemon #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact scaramouche #n/sfw #i'd like to write a part two #please enable me orz

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babblydrabbly · 3 years ago

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Trust Me Pt. 1 - (Rick Flag x Reader); (Harley Quinn x Reader (Friendship))

Pairing(s): (Rick Flag x Reader); (Harley Quinn x Reader (Friendship)

Characters: Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, Digger Harkness, mentions of Amanda Waller

Rating: General

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warning(s): Language, blood/violence, car accident.

Summary: Imagine you’re occasionally sent on Task Force X missions to back up Flag, but he knows Waller really just sends you to report back any dirt you can find on Rick. You’re a rat (No offense to Sebastian). He keeps you at arms length most of the time, and resents any attempts to be a part of the ‘team’, despite his big speech about treating each other like brothers and sisters. Still, you bond over all the literally suicidal missions, and really do watch each others’ back during the chaos. Rick Flag is torn between you being one of Waller’s spies and how much he cares about you. Part 1/?

---

You were uncomfortable with the assignment to begin with. You’d heard about what happened at Midway before you even transferred to Belle Reve, so when Waller said you’d be assigned to the next few Task Force X missions, you immediately knew why. Amanda Waller did not trust Rick Flag.

Without needing to say it, you were going to report back any and all chatter you considered insubordination between the members of the ‘suicide squad’. You were a rat. And Flag knew it right away. You were adequate in the field, but nothing spectacular; Your real job was working in the comms room during their missions. When the plane touched down on your first tag-a-long, Flag did little to hide the resentment he felt for you.

That was fine. You didn't need to be friends. He kept you at arms length, only speaking to you directly with orders or updates. You rarely spoke at all while out with the team.

That was, until Harley Quinn was reinstated a few missions into your assignment. During the take down of a moving convoy and extraction of an important meta-human asset, Flag looked happy to tell you you’d be driving a hundred miles out into the desert beside the bubbly criminal. He didn’t even give you the dignity of being in charge of driving.

You sat in the passenger seat of the hummer, as Harley blasted the radio and sang without any shame at all. You had a feeling Flag could see your silhouettes from his own vehicle one car back where he was driving with Harkness. You had literal hours to go before your four vehicle team (plus helicopter) even reached the convoy, and Harley’s energy was relentless.

“So, where ya from, hun?” “You got a cute outfit- I’m more prone to a pop of color myself.” “Hey, you ever try peanut butter on a cheeseburger? Hear me out-”

“—Teams report.” Flag’s voice came in through your earpiece after an hour or so. Were you imagining it, or did he seem amused? The members ahead of you check in before you grit your teeth and give a curt, “Fine. Over.”

You gasped as Harley let go of the wheel to stick her body out of the open window, her blonde pigtails whipping around. She waved enthusiastically back at Flag, and you could see in the rearview as he casually waved back from his sunroof behind you. You cursed and snatched the wheel as the hummer swerved, shouting for Harley to get her ass back in the damn car!

You heard a few chuckles and quips over the comms that made your cheeks burn, and you made a note to definitely mark this moment down in your stupid report. Fucking Flag. It wasn’t like you volunteered to be Waller’s little snitch. But you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. He was getting bolder. It had been less than a year, and what was once just cold shoulders and dismissals between the two of you was slowly turning into harmless jabs like this one. You even found yourself leaving things out of your reports on occasion. What use was mentioning it if it wasn’t relevant to the task force? Lying by omission for a bunch of murderers and losers— Who were you turning into.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sudden absence of noise— Harley had stopped singing along, instead choosing to bob in her seat to the beat. She glanced at you with a wide grin. Then again. And again.

“Eyes on the road, Quinn.” You practically begged at this point. You pressed your body into your seat anxiously. The dust cloud from the incoming convoy was beginning to blow past your window. Flag’s voice crackled through the comms again to get ready.

“You’re one uptight broad, y’know that?” She said cheerfully. You didn’t know if you were meant to take offense or not. Then, “I like it! Got a real Restin’ Bitch Face.”

“Thank...you?”

“Don’t get me wrong— When a gal’s got on a good RBF, it’s in the name. You’re a bitch. But when a broody guy like Flag’s got one he’s a ‘serious leader’ and a ‘professional’ and a ‘dreamy hunk’.” Harley went on, taking her hands off the wheel to demonstrate her air quotes literally. You gripped your seatbelt in fear as the hummer began swerving again.

“Quinn...”

“Everyone’s always calling me a psycho bitch when I get in the zone, y’know. But then I’m just a crazy bitch when I’m tryin’a keep it fun—!”

“HARLEY!”

Your heart leapt in your throat. As Harley let the vehicle veer back and forth, your attention was suddenly taken by the flash of fire and an explosion just yards ahead of you. The hummer with two other squad members leading the line had been hit with a rocket launcher, sending their vehicle into the air in a burst of flame— and because Harley was driving like a maniac, the explosion had missed your own hummer. Harley and Flag broke the line in a single moment, dodging the car that was now overturned and engulfed in fire.

Hell broke loose then, as it always did.

You remember Harley shouting at you to take the wheel before climbing up to the mounted gun on the roof. Chatter erupted on the comms as Waller’s team directed the helicopter above and the rest of you still converged on the target. The plan was to never stop, to keep driving and extract the asset while all teams kept up with the convoy. You remember seeing a car pull up beside Flag in your side mirror, a rifle pointing right at him through all the dust and cross fire.

But the beauty of Task Force X was how laughably terrible these guys were at not following the plan. You catch a flash of red and blue as Harley leapt onto the enemy’s truck, abandoning her post on the hummer to go get the asset herself. Waller’s orders were meaningless in moments like this, and she knew it. They would either accomplish the mission their way, or they were dead.

That’s what the suicide squad did— was that really you? You looked in your rearview again in time to catch Harkness collapse onto the hood of Flag’s vehicle, a splotch of red visible on his chest even from where you were. You heard Waller’s voice in your head already dismissing Boomer’s loss by the end of all this.

But you also heard Rick, his voice concerned but steady in your ear as he ordered Harkness to hang on while he attempted to lose the car still beside them.

You sucked in a breath, and with a sudden jerk of the wheel, you lined yourself up with the enemy car behind you— And slammed on the breaks.

---

You had to come back to Belle Reve on a separate jet with Harkness, who also needed medical care before being sent back. Harley, despite her protests to see that you were both okay, was returned to her cell without so much as a ‘good job’ from Waller. Flag locked the caged door behind her with a murmur that he’d send word about Boomer soon.

You landed in Louisiana with a fractured arm and ten stitches along your right temple. They had to reset your shoulder too. The bruising on the right side of your face made you look worse than you felt, but you still had to keep your face still from pulling the stitches. As you shuffled down the exit stairs, dragging your duffle behind you, you were startled when you looked up to see Rick Flag on the tarmac approaching you quickly.

His brow furrowed, he immediately greeted you with a gruff, “Hey.”

“Hey—” You said back, feeling your bag being taken from you. He peels it from your fingers, your wrists brushing. No ‘[L/N]’, no curt nod. You watched as Flag slung the duffle over his broad shoulder and gestured back to the SUV he’d driven over to receive you from the Belle Reve air field without a word. When you approach your door, you stare as Flag uncharacteristically holds it open for you, then promptly shuts it, your bag placed down in the back seat.

The drive back to the main compound was usually brief, but today it felt like an eternity. You glanced over as Flag glared at the road ahead, and you remembered what Harley said about his... What did she call it? RBF? Dreamy bitch face?

Silence.

“Am I fired?” You finally said, your voice piercing the dead quiet of the car.

Flag blinked, looking between you and the road as if pulled from his own thoughts. “No, what?”

“Am I fired?” You repeated. Then grumbled, “Feels like you’re rushing me to an exit interview.”

“You're not fired.” He replied in his drawl, still distracted. “And I’m tryin’a hustle you to your debrief with Waller so you can get home and rest.”

He put the car in park, the silence falling over you again deafening now that the engine was off. You sneak another glance over at him to see him staring ahead, his large hands still gripping the wheel tightly.

“Are... You okay, Flag?”

“Are you okay?” He suddenly snapped. He released the wheel, turning his chest to face you in his seat. You reeled a little, confused at the sudden anger that seemed to release like a burst dam.

“Stitches, a broken arm. You got lucky, [L/N]. What the hell were you thinking?” He continued, voice raising. And it was like muscle memory, the way your uncertainty vanished, your body turning in your own seat to square up to Rick Flag, Colonel pain in the ass. He was chastising you now? After you just saved his fucking life?

You said as much, your face shutting down, on the defense. Typical Rick Flag. The thought was written on your face, your contempt like a flashing billboard.

Flag’s lips parted, a sharp intake of breath telling you he was about to fire back— because that’s what the two of you did— but instead he surprised you by promptly clamping the sharp line of his jaw shut. That silence fell like a wall between the two of you once more, and Rick turned to face forward, his gaze leaving you and taking all the fire with it. You watch his Adam’s apple bob minutely, something unreadable washing over his features before he mutters,

“Waller’s waiting for you in comms. Better hustle.”

#rick flag x reader #rick flag #harley quinn #tss 2021 #mywords*#reader is a genius. very smort.

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amethystmpress · 3 years ago

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DAENERYS APPRECIATION MONTH 2021: ↳ Day 15: Most Anticipated Meetings (Dany & Val Parallels) art by @the-lady-rae

"I would choose freedom over comfort every time."

She raised the harpy's fingers in the air... and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!"

──────── Willing to sacrifice as much of themselves as they are capable of to protect their own, including giving up their own freedom through marriages.

“Let me help.”

“You have. You brought me Tormund.”

“I can do more.”

“You are welcome to come meet her."

Val begged the king to spare him. She said she'd let some kneeler marry her and never slit his throat if only Mance could live.

[Dany] had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons […] Every day she sent them what she could […] today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself.

Dany could only sit and watch. "Ser," she said to Barristan Selmy, "is there no more we can do?"

No marriage would ever bring them back to life, but if a husband could help end the slaughter, then she owed it to her dead to marry.

Dany’s hand clenched hard around the reins, and she turned the silver’s head. “Make them stop.”

"The rest, with me." They passed other women being raped. Each time Dany reined up, sent her khas to make an end to it.

"You cannot claim them all, child," Ser Jorah said, the fourth time they stopped.

──────── Dressed for "battle" before meeting Selyse to help Jon gain her support & descending to the fighting pits, both reluctant but willing to do what they must.

“I must see Queen Selyse.” He turned to Val. “My lady. With me, if you please.”

“The crow commands, the captive must obey.” Her tone was playful. “This queen of yours must be fierce if the legs of grown men give out beneath them when they meet her. Should I have dressed in mail instead of wool and fur? These clothes were given to me by Dalla, I would sooner not get bloodstains all over them.”

“Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?” asked Missandei as she was washing the queen’s hair [...] "Khaleesi, which tokar will you want today?" asked Irri.

"The yellow silk." The queen of the rabbits could not be seen without her floppy ears. "And over it, the long red veils." The veils would keep the wind from blowing sand into her mouth. And the red will hide any blood spatters.

──────── Bold, unafraid, and confident in rising to defend their people's freedom + ensuing threats from people who can't handle it.

“Free folk do not kneel,” Val told her.

“Then they must be knelt,” the queen declared.

“Do that, Your Grace, and we will rise again at the first chance,” Val promised. “Rise with blades in hand.”

The queen’s lips tightened, and her chin gave a small quiver. “You are insolent. I suppose that is only to be expected of a wildling. We must find you a husband who can teach you courtesy.”

"You were wise to sit and speak, Khaleesi. You shall find no easy conquest here."

“Good. My Unsullied will relish a bit of a fight.”

"Do you imagine that Yunkai will open its gates when my Unsullied are butchering you beneath the walls? “

“Woman, you bray like an ass, and make no more sense.”

“What you are,” said Prendahl na Ghezn, “is a horselord’s whore. When we break you, I will breed you to my stallion.”

Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.

──────── Princesses who take action, confront things head-on, and don't let old knights spirit them to Asshai.

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

All her life Viserys had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her silver had Daenerys Targaryen ever felt like one.

"I had to save him."

"We could have fled," he said. "I would have seen you safe to Asshai, Princess. There was no need…"

"Am I truly your princess?" she asked him.

"My… queen," Ser Jorah said, going to one knee. "Come east with me. Yi Ti, Qarth, the Jade Sea, Asshai by the Shadow. We will see all the wonders yet unseen, and drink what wines the gods see fit to serve us. Please, Khaleesi."

"I must," Dany told him. She touched his face, fondly, sadly. "You do not understand."

──────── Sharp minds, sharp knives, even sharper tongues.

“Best steal her quick, before Toregg wakes up and takes her first [...] She won’t mind. Will you, girl?” Val patted the long bone knife on her hip.

“Lord Crow is welcome to steal into my bed any night he dares. Once he’s been gelded, keeping those vows will come much easier for him.”

"No woman has ever forgotten the Titan's Bastard [...] Little girl, another woman once tried to geld me with her teeth. She has no teeth now, but my sword is as long and thick as ever. Shall I take it out and show you?"

"No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure."

──────── Too clever for the likes of you and me.

“Har!” laughed Tormund Giantsbane. “Don’t bandy words with this one, Lord Snow, she’s too clever for the likes o’ you and me." [...] She had proved that by finding Tormund where seasoned rangers of the Watch had failed.

"The Stormcrows do not stand alone," said Prendahl.

"Stormcrows do not stand at all. They fly, at the first sign of thunder. Perhaps you should be flying now."

──────── Dealing with flattery.

When presented to Val, the knight sank to one knee to kiss her glove. “You are even lovelier than I was told, princess,” he declared. “The queen has told me much and more of your beauty.”

“How odd, when she has never seen me.” Val patted Ser Patrek on the head. “Up with you now, ser kneeler. Up, up.” She sounded as if she were talking to a dog.

There are pleasure houses in Lys and Tyrosh where men would pay handsomely to bed the last Targaryen."

"It is good to see you know who I am," said Dany mildly.

The merchant prince leaned across the table. "Let us speak instead of love, of dreams and desire and Daenerys, the fairest woman in this world. I am drunk with the sight of you."

She was no stranger to the overblown courtesies of Qarth. "If you are drunk, blame the wine."

──────── Others sharing and stealing Jon and Dany's babies, and how women should have dragons since they make men sweeter, especially crows.

“Have you been trying to steal my wolf?” he asked her.

“Why not? If every woman had a direwolf, men would be much sweeter. Even crows.”

But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. “He likes you, Ben,” said Dany.

[...] When Brown Ben left, she lay back on her cushions. “If you were grown,” she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, “I’d fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.”

If her dragons discomfited Daario Naharis, he hid it well. For all the mind he paid them, they might have been three kittens playing with a mouse.

“My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.”

[...] She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. "I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins."

──────── Dripping in white with their cuddly companions, belonging together.

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. They look as though they belong together.

Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well… but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

She called her people together and mounted her silver mare. Her hair [worn in braids] had burned away in Drogo's pyre, so her handmaids garbed her in the skin of the hrakkar Drogo had slain, the white lion of the Dothraki sea. Its fearsome head made a hood to cover her naked scalp, its pelt a cloak that flowed across her shoulders and down her back. The cream-colored dragon sunk sharp black claws into the lion's mane and coiled its tail around her arm.

──────── Lonely, lovely, lethal.

All the same, the wildling princess was not beloved of her gaolers. She scorned them all as "kneelers," and had thrice attempted to escape. When one man-at-arms grew careless in her presence she had snatched his dagger from its sheath and stabbed him in the neck. Another inch to the left and he might have died.

Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected.

Xaro took another bite, chewed, swallowed. "Daenerys, sweet queen, I cannot tell you what pleasure it gives me to bask once more in your presence. A child departed Qarth, as lost as she was lovely. I feared she was sailing to her doom, yet now I find her here enthroned, mistress of an ancient city, surrounded by a mighty host that she raised up out of dreams."

The fat man grew pensive. "Daenerys was half a child when she came to me, yet fairer even than my second wife, so lovely I was tempted to claim her for myself.

──────── Dany shares similarities with Dalla, Val's sister, and also suffered immeasurable loss delivering her child. (Dany could be like a sister to her... 🥰)

“Are you the wildling princess?” Shireen asked Val.

“Some call me that,” said Val. “My sister was wife to Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall. She died giving him a son.”

But in the Red Waste, all her joy had turned to ashes. Her sun-and-stars had fallen from his horse, the maegi Mirri Maz Duur had murdered Rhaego in her womb, and Dany had smothered the empty shell of Khal Drogo with her own two hands.

──────── Regarding prophecy.

"She sees things in her fires... Kings and dragons."

"Fire is a fickle thing. No one knows which way a flame will go.”

Dany knew how it went with prophecies. They were made of words, and words were wind.

──────── Unwittingly developing affection for kiddos they care for.

“Only for a time. You will return. For the boy, if for no other reason.”

“Craster’s son?” Val shrugged. “He is no kin to me.”

“I have heard you singing to him.” “I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?” A faint smile brushed her lips. “It makes him laugh."

One of her young hostages brought her morning meal, a plump shy girl named Mezzara, whose father ruled the pyramid of Merreq, and Dany gave her a happy hug and thanked her with a kiss [...] Two of Dany's favorite hostages served the food and kept the cups filled—a doe-eyed little girl called Qezza and a skinny boy named Grazhar [...] "They are very sweet, the both of them," Dany assured her. "Qezza sings for me sometimes. She has a lovely voice."

──────── Mommies of monsters 🥺

"He is a sweet little monster."

"Monster?"

"His milk name. I had to call him something. See that he stays safe and warm. For his mother's sake, and mine. [...] How fares the little monster?”

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters.

#danymonth2021 #daenerys #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #jon snow #game of thrones #got #val #val asoiaf #my thoughts #snowstorm asoiaf #snowstorm #is this a snowstorm post in disguise??#maybe maybe not hmmm

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oblivious-nuisance · 3 years ago

Note

Hello sweetheart, could I request Dazai, Ango and oda with a s/o who is Mori’s daughter?

Thank you ^^

Have a nice day/night, and take good care of yourself

hi there babe, sorry for the delay! i'll be glad to bc i fell pretty hard for this series!! also, i already did oda (check out part 2 of this series <3), dazai as well, but i can do a present dazai and ango. hope this is to your liking, mwah <33

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒/𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 ***

↳ includes: dazai osamu, sakaguchi ango

warnings: fluff, angst if you squint, gn!reader (that wears a skirt and clothes that reveal cleavage. take that as you will), tad bit suggestive in ango's bc he's so seggsy ugh <3

↳ part 1 ; part 2

— ANGO

"you are such a tease", he sighs from his place at the table, trying to keep his gaze focused on your alluring eyes, and not on the way your skirt is riding up your thigh or on how truly inappropriately you positioned yourself on his working space. "what is it that you want from me, huh? tormenting me daily with your perfumes and fancy nails and expensive makeup." he narrows his eyes and gets up, standing taller than you and grabbing your chin. "you're so desperate, you know that?"

"says the one who couldn't stop looking at my cleavage ever since i entered your office." you sigh and lean to whisper in his reddening ear. "seriously, sakaguchi–san, your eyes are always betraying you when you're around me."

i'll let you decide what happened after that conversation ✌😗

to be fair, ango is quite neutral when it comes to mori

sure, he knows he's in deep shit if he's being found out and ratted

after all, being a triple spy is no easy task, even for somebody as calm and collected as him

but he's trying his best to keep it together, especially since he really does have a soft spot for you hah

but my god does he dote on you, there's literally no escaping him

always offering you his coat if it's cold, making sure that your tea stays warm, gently caresses your face if it's laced with concern, dissipating the creases and tracing what eventually turns into a smile on your features.

i'm sorry but the sex is also god tier okay good

now onto how everybody reacted

dazai and oda... they were a lost cause

the moment ango told them (after a well deserved glass of scotch), they were stunned for approximately 0.5 seconds

"you've gotta be kidding me."

"i am not, dazai–kun."

oda would whistle in approval

"interesting choice, to say the least. nonetheless, congratulations, friend."

awh :"(

and after this soft and heartfelt moment, the teasing ensued. and it did not falter, no matter the situation.

ango actually started rethinking your dating schedule so that you wouldn't pass by lupin anytime soon

"ango–san, don't forget to take your glasses off during s–"

"end that sentence and i'm making sure that you die an old man, dazai."

"huh, now it all makes sense why we aren't welcome in your office anymore, ango."

but in all seriousness, man do they love you

they really do

and it makes it all the more heartbreaking for ango to execute his initial plan

of course, you choose him over the mafia; it is the obviously healthier choice, regardless of how your father reacts. because you're strong, you can take his wrath.

"his rage doesn't define me, doesn't define us. nor does his pain or false sense of betrayal."

and that's when ango knew that he's pretty much secured himself the fiercest parnter in the entirety of yokohama.

— DAZAI

"no comment."

"i didn't even say anything!"

"doesn't matter, just..." you exhale as you sink even more against him, his warm chest almost coaxing you to crawl into his beating heart and hide. "i'm just glad that i found you, alright? couldn't have imagined what i—what i would've done if you—"

he shushes you hurriedly with his lips upon your own, molding a soft apology on the tender skin.

now this guy,, he's getting off on the thrill that your relationship is basically built on

like, big time

luckily for him, so do you lmao

obviously, what could grind that geezer's gears more than knowing you were dating one of the most prestigious former mafia executives?

the amout of times two you ran away from him after you sabotaged his veichles cannot be counted on one hand :)

overall, though, dazai is another gentle soul that loves to show his affection towards you. of course, it gets physical most of the time (both in bed and outside of it), but dazai also knows when to caress and hold you if you don't feel like going for a grand gesture at that moment.

now, atsushi's reaction was quite sweet

"congratulations, dazai–san!" he smiled softly.

yet it was hilarious when he saw akutagawa gaping at you from afar while you were out with him on a shopping spree, and you just waved and grinned at the shocked executive.

"dazai–san... you have some explaining to do."

ranpo, kunikida and yosano welcomed you into the agency with open arms, and never judged you for your past. even fukuzawa is fond of your presence, and they all make you feel so so loved.

and when chūya saw you by your lover's side... he smiled. you barely caught him do it, but you are sure of the delighted expression that graced his features that day.

oh, and dazai also told you that "odasaku would've adored you, belladona" *cries*

no translations, edits, copying, reposting etc.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs fanfic #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd ango #bungo stray dogs ango #dazai osamu #sakaguchi ango #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs fluff #alcoholandcakes.asks #lyn.txt #sugar

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tarotchariotpickyourcard · 4 years ago

Text

Pick a card reading: What you should like more about yourself!

This one is for the ones on that self love journey, the ones that need a pick me up or have a hard time with self confidence/esteem especially.

So I'm sure it's quite clear. The cards that you pick will reflect why you deserve to be more loving to yourself, what wonderful qualities you have, and maybe help convince you to lessen your negative inner language.

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

Please pick one of the groups ( 1, 2, 3 or 4.)

You might be drawn to an item, the card itself, or a number. Please calm your mind and meditate for a minute.

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

Side note: If you have a hard time choosing, or nothing seems strong to you, perhaps you could come back later on and try. Do not pressure yourself, darling.

Number one is the badge saying "yup"

Number 2 is the wing

Number 3 is the little bird

Number 4 is the chain saying "BE MINE"

GROUP 1 : (Yup badge)

Morning affirmations, Joy, Strength

6 of wands, 4 of pentacles, Mother of swords

What an interesting blend of character you are!

With the owl, this is a strong suggestion that you are able to see through deep into situations and understand "in between the lines". A great communicator, the queen of swords can be straight to the point, brilliant and not to be messed with. Your ability to say it like it is might be perceived as a little harsh to very sensitive or younger people, however it is a strong and much needed trait in the world. We need people with the organisational skills and know how of the mother of swords! The queen always reminds me of someone who is a good teacher, and a fair person.

With the 6 of wands and the 4 of pentacles, the combination hits in a way of potentially dulling that light. The traits I list may be some that you are aware of in a way, but perhaps have a lesser opinion of. The interesting mix of you is in the way of you being so strong, able to endure and be positive, yet a wonderful balance of being able to have boundaries. Again, I'm seeing the strong ability to recognise when someone is being a "rat" as the animal is right next to the owl. I can't help but get the idea that it is direct experience. I would be surprised if you haven't recently come to a revelation about a person in your social circle, or cut someone out/created more boundaries.

Strength mentions having resilience, coming through things more compassionate, stronger and brighter. Brighter being strong in focus to me, as it is next to joy. Your ability to have fun *despite* issues or obstacles is an enviable trait! I really feel that while you might have your difficulties, you never let them suck you in for too long mentally. You seem to try and stay positive through things, and not everyone can do that. You are also much more smart/knowledgeable than you give yourself credit for. Don't let anyone put you down, because you're being shown that if you go for what you've been studying/working at, with strong persistence you can succeed. I feel like the branches signify people who have acted as obstacles, or your troubles in life. This is confirmation you can rise above them, and if you're stuck right now, please accept my confirmation that things can and will change. Life can't help but flow, no matter how people may try and resist. So if anyone is putting you down, or getting in your way - know that their resistance to your future and well being is futile.

You keep having those boundaries. Keep on keeping on. You're sharp, you're witty, and of all things you have kept your kind heart. One day the joy you try to find in the little things will come to you effortlessly and in x100.

I got the need to call you cherub. Chin up, Cherub.

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

GROUP 2 (the wing)

Wait, generosity, magic, peacefulness

The hermit, Ace of swords, Son of swords.

eYou're an extremely thoughtful person, aren't you? I get social activist vibes, the kind of person who thinks about bigger issues than just in their personal world, and could debate very well. The ability to get to the kernel of truth within an argument or bigger pattern in the world seems equal to none. If you have a hard time accepting that your opinions mean something, or you would be able to be persuasive, this is confirmation for you that actually - yes - you do have something meaningful to share with others.

In this pile I'm seeing a more peaceful, patient character. Someone who simply tries to be good, and do good for others. You create magic for other people. My heart swells at this, as I'm seeing reciprocity of kindnesses between you and others over time.

While The son of swords on it's own could potentially be quick to intervene or make a judgement, with the hermit and wait, I'm feeling more that you take the time to think things over. For example, if asked to make a decision, you would want to take your time and really think. If you were asked what your thoughts were on a political stand point, you would think in depth and make no judgements from the surface. This is so helpful, as there's less chance of misunderstanding/unkindness as well as the ability to make better long term decisions for yourself.

Very introspective, and the ace of swords suggests you have great clarity of mind. I can imagine you would be a wonderful person for explaining complicated matters to a wide group of people.

Generosity is what it says on the tin: You are a generous human. That is so, so important. There are many people out there who might feel like no one thinks about them or cares, and you come in and surprise them with something, or offer them help without them asking. It makes people feel valued, and like they are important or have a place in someone's life.

Peacefulness suggests not inviting drama, and I get 2 things. You might be described as grounded, or "chill". As well as this likely suggests your lack of interest in being within a dramatic situation. You are likely very good at looking at others drama, and seeing where it truly stems from, as well as having a good idea of advice for them. If you have friends right now, it's likely they feel peaceful being around you and that they can truly calm down or get your advice on their *own* drama.

You are so important to the people around you, and if there are people that can't appreciate you, I promise you they have *no* idea how lucky they are. You offer so much as a friend, confidant, and as a person who cares for the worlds well being. I appreciate you.

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

GROUP 3: ( Little bird

Blessed change, gratitude, engagement, follow your heart, father of pentacles, the empress, the star

You're cool.

Right off the bat, I see your ability to see the silver lining, to take changes as they come (and I don't mean you happily drudge through hard changes, I mean more like you accept them more easily than others). Do you know, it really helps a persons resilience in life if they can have gratitude for things in general, as well as seeing the positive affects of life changes. You have an ability to notice the opportunities in said silver lining. An example I've read in the past involved a man who lost his job, but an opportunity came up for something he was passionate regarding his hobby. He would not have been free to do it unless he was let go of.

You're my free flowing group. Very adaptable. You're able to take time out to really think about what you truly desire in life. When themes like this come up, I really get the idea of authenticity. To put a focus on following your heart, being grateful for what you've taken part in and even quirky circumstances is a massive strength. Do you have any idea how scary that is to people? To wake up and think "My heart wants this, I'm going to actually aim for it because I need to be myself." That's terrifying to many!

Note: If you are finding it hard to be upfront or true to yourself due to fear, this is confirmation that you will be able to in the future. Take your time, as this will come naturally to you.

I know you might be shrugging thinking, but sometimes I get really negative or scared too. I won't say that's not a thing humans experience. What I am saying however, is that you have that strength of character to say actually, nothing would be worse than to answer to my fear. Fear of self expression, fear of being judged. Fear of not having your project liked. These kinds of things.

I feel like you're a fun person who is very interesting to people/has had at least one very interesting or unusual experience. I want you to know the cards are showing that people really enjoy speaking with you, and hearing your stories. So no negative self talk of being boring, or disliked.

Your flexibility, and your ability to be sociable, yet able to pull back appropriately is wonderful. The world needs those who can be more easy going as this can help people de-stress and stop thinking about their worries.

I'm seeing wonderful creativity, and again, being able to be social and talk to many people very well. You're a shining star, and you're supposed to be!

I wonder if sometimes you feel like you need to be "more" productive, but let me tell you... Networking with people is half the job.

I'm also wondering (as a rainbow stands out) if some here are part of the LGBTQIA+ community. It would make sense with the authenticity. If you have a social media presence, or a creative project you want to get out, or expressing your personal experiences to the world - this is confirmation to keep standing tall, stand proud because yes, you do have a lot to offer! King of pentacles next to the empress also suggests you might be on to something that can bring in some income for you. Again, even sharing your experiences is very valued and may well be it. The world itself wants to see you, or whatever you desire to create.

If you have a hard time focusing or being practical, darling, you get along well with others for a reason. Ask for help, whether it's family, friends online, a teacher, anyone. There's help to steer you further in the right direction. You're a beautiful person and you matter to people. You are loved, so please love yourself.

There's something here that seems upset, and I just have the biggest urge to hug you! So if you will, accept my many energetic and virtual hugs!

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

GROUP 4: "Be mine"

Worthiness, Ups and downs, courage

Ace of pentacles, Ace of wands, daughter of wands (reversed)

Daughter of wands reversed suggests to me, that you have the traits such as this, but perhaps not the confidence in yourself right now about those things. The book describes her as passionate, visionary, cares more for career and starts a family later; stubborn, strong (i take this as physically actually) and may be going through a spiritual breakthrough or a big change. With this I get the thought that you probably don't recognise just *how* passionate you truly are. You might be finding it hard to go a certain way in your career and studies. There might even be some worries that you might not stick at it. But what you are not realising is your actions have magic in them.

If you are interested in LOA: Your actions manifest not only in a practical sense, but *that's* what truly gets the energy moving. You need physical expression of some kind.

I'm getting such practical, but passionate energy. The ace of wands with courage? That's amazing. Fire sign or not, you have classic fire energy. Even when you lack confidence, you have a strange inner ability to be brave even at your worst times.

Oh, if only you had the confidence to aim!

Your energy and action are seriously magnificent. You have a *lot* of inner energy, spiritual energy, physical vitality. If you have health issues this might sound strange to you - but I get the idea your body was built with a lot of vitality available. You might have really struggled in life with ups and downs here, but I'm seeing you crash right through all the barriers and try to do life the best way you know how. No matter your struggles, you are a warrior here.

The 2 aces here (that is so interesting to have seen) show that you are probably quite good at beginning new things, and when you're motivated, you're MOTIVATED. I'm getting the idea that when you *do* take action on a goal, you go at it with everything and it can surprise people.

I'm seeing creative ability. It's an ability that I have seen myself. An example would be.... A mistake is made in a piece of art. It didn't go the way you wanted originally. But, wait a minute... that's starting to look like something, so I'm going to change it all up and create something completely different than intended.

It's seeing potential in a small detail. I'm seeing original thinking.

I just see a bulls eye, and such great energy and ability, but the lack of confidence. And so, I feel like you're at a time where you're stopping yourself, or won't aim for something out of fear of failing. I also got the sentence biting your tongue. I'm sorry if you're in a situation where you can't speak up for yourself, as this is not aligned with your character.

Overall I believe your a creative but practical person, and have the ability to really pull through and create wonderful things. You can be *very* brave as well as motivated and so I feel you inspire others, as well as surprise them.

I really do feel that with worthiness, it is hinting to confidence/self esteem issues as it says "know that you deserve to receive good in all ways".

You deserve to be successful. You deserve to take the career path that you have been thinking about. You deserve people to treat you well. You deserve to have that hobby, whether you're "good" or not.

Deep down somewhere you know you are bigger than this. I am wishing for a healthy full confidence boost for you and some new energy to help push you.

Please have the courage to aim, as bob ross says:

"we don't make mistakes, we make happy little accidents"

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

And that's the last of them! I hope you enjoyed, and I hoped this help you feel a little better about yourself. We need to cheer ourselves up sometimes and let ourselves think good things. We attract more honey with sugar after all!

Until the next pick a card!

Thank you!

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

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

Text

Cabur - Rogue, Chapter 6| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: A few weeks have passed and after landing on a small planet to collect a bounty, you and Mando decide to take a little trip to the market to stock up on some things. Nothing will come up here.. right?

Warnings: Angsty angsty annnnngst, (Sorry, I don’t mean to be so horrible to dear reader), Swearing (mild), brief mentions of death, touching on the same things as chapter 4 but not as heavy but I’ll still add the trigger warnings ♥︎ These chapters will get lighter, I promise,

Not beta read, I wanted to get this one out because I love it so apologies for any mistakes, I’ll be going in to edit a little later

Trigger warnings: Anxiety, horrible thoughts/insults, triggering comments maybe, thoughts of not being able to cope.

Words: About 6210

AN: Okay, okay, so, I was listening to my Rogue playlist on Spotify (link coming soon) and a certain song came on that just fuelled this chapter. SO, I highly recommend listening to Leave A Light On by Tom Walker if you want the vibes for this chapter. Just… honestly, please do it (I may have had tears)

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss

Mando’a translation: Cabur - Protector or Guardian

A few weeks had passed since that night you saved the Mandalorian’s life, since he threw away the bounty puck to keep you safe.

You’d stayed that night grounded, and then when Mando was able to get up in the morning, he flew you off of that dump of a planet.

He didn’t ask anymore but how you had managed to save him. Whether he knew you were lying or not, he hadn’t pushed it, choosing instead to respect you. Kind of like how you respected him and his Creed.

You’d fallen into a sort of routine around the Razor Crest, without either of you realising it. Mando would fly the ship, and you could be found seeing to Grogu and Duru, or tidying things up. Sometimes you would clean the weapons in the cabinet, making sure they stayed in pristine condition.

Now and then, Mando would head out to get a bounty and when he got back, he would let you help patch him up. You never saw his bare skin, respected that. You would look away or close your eyes, pointing out the best things to use or how to administer them. The man was good at first aid, but his answer to everything was to shove the cauteriser on it. So, when you had been passing through some shops one day, you had stocked up on medical supplies, even found a shop selling the same herbs and plants that your mother had taught you about.

You’d even been on a few of the hunts with him.

Of course, you had argued first. When you’d asked him about it one day on the way out of Nevarro, Mando had simply said no.

Which had immediately riled you. You were not a girl who liked that word. You despised that word.

Which is how you’d spent the whole night and next two days bickering, over the question of your safety. When he lost that front, (“Seriously, Mando? I’m a fugitive. And after all, I’ve got a big, strong Mandalorian to protect me”) the Mandalorian had moved on to your lack of thinking before throwing yourself into the firefight.

He lost that one too.

(“Says the man who stole back a child surrounded by Stormtroopers.”

“You’re not coming. End of.”

“Did you want me to bring your pulse rifle over?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“You’re right. Pulse rifle and an extra blaster.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Sure you do, Lori. I’ll see you at the ramp.”)

That nickname had slipped out by accident, and he’d regarded you, for a long time. He’d gone still, and you almost swore you heard a hitch of breath through his helmet and then he just nodded and murmured softly, “See you down there.”

There had been a lot of little moments like that but they were so fleeting that you were almost convinced you’d imagined it. You were imagining a lot of things lately.

Sometimes, when you were walking through forests or towns, you thought you spotted something lingering at the edges of your vision.

A tall figure, cloaked in a hood that was embroidered in either silver or gold, depending on the light.

You’d even asked Mando about it a few times, but he hadn’t seen anything so you simply put it down to a trick of the light or sleeplessness, nightmares still plaguing you now and then.

Regardless of the nightmares and your vision playing tricks on you, you were doing… okay. You were warm, safe, had a comfy place to sleep. You had things to keep you busy, things that weren’t hunting for food or a good spot to hunker down in for the night.

Duru was happy too, having become fast friends with Grogu and the two of them ran rings around you and the Mandalorian. Well, mainly Mando, which you found hilarious because he was such an exasperated dad with them both.

It was a rare reprieve from your life, letting you slow down and… live. Rather than survive.

“I do not talk in my sleep.”

“Yes, you do!! Sometimes, I think you’re awake but you’re just having a fully-fledged conversation with your blanket.”

“Oh, shut up. I know I don’t talk in my sleep, tin can. You were probably just having dreams about me again.” You examined the fruit in front of you, then handed over a few credits to the kind vendor, slipping the fruit in your bag.

The sound of fabric hitting the floor sounded from behind you, and you turned to see that the Mandalorian had dropped the bag you’d made him carry. “I do NOT have dreams about you!” He stooped to pick up the bag, then rose to see you standing with your hands on your hips, eyebrow raised and that damn smirk on your lips.

“Mmhm, is that why you always have to pull something over your lap when I wake you up?”

He stared at you, and you had the very correct feeling that he was looking at you in mild shock, too caught out to come up with his usual cocky response. “I -you.. That’s completely..”

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes at him and then dropping him a wink, “Come get me when you’ve thought of a response, Lori.” You turned and carried on walking through the market.

The two of you had stopped off on a nearby trading planet, to gather supplies. Mando had recently secured a bounty with your help and it had paid well, giving you enough extra credits to stock up and treat yourselves. Grogu was already half-way through a packet of blue macarons, which would no doubt come back to bite you both later when he was pelting through the ship whilst you tried to catch him. And it would be your fault because you had taken one look at those big ears and eyes, determined not to break but when the little womp rat had cooed at you… Of course, he had gotten his own way.

It felt good, to wander a market and not be scrounging for things under the cover of a hooded cloak. You still had one on, you couldn’t bear to part with this item, the most beautiful piece of clothing you had ever had. You just didn’t have the hood up disguising you.

A gift, from Mando.

The first time you went out with him after the puck was destroyed, Mandalorian had insisted you wear yours. However, it had been covered in his blood from his injury, and you couldn’t get it out, no matter how hard you had tried. It hadn’t bothered you that much, though you were.. not sad as such, but it felt a little strange because it had been one of your few possessions for so long. But, maybe it was a symbol. That things had changed, and that was in the past.

A couple of days later, you had just walked into the cockpit when you noticed there was a package on your seat. When you picked it up, it was squishy, bound in a sort of thick papery material and tied with a length of string.

You’d glanced at the Mandalorian, who was watching you, the picture of calm but his hands had been fiddling with something on his belt, a shockingly nervous gesture you weren’t used to.

That simple, uncertain gesture had risen your pulse and you unwrapped the package, trying not to show how your hands were shaking at the first gift you’d received since being a child.

A gift from the Mandalorian.

Pulling away the paper had revealed a mass of fabric, a blue so deep it was almost the same colour as the night sky. You’d lifted it out and it had unfolded and revealed itself to be a new cloak. The material was soft, thick enough to keep out a biting chill. You’d made a noise of awe and surprise, but had immediately fallen in love with it, pulling it on. It fell to about the middle of your calves and secured at the base of your neck with a small silver clasp.

The inside was lined with a thin layer of heat-reflective material, and when you’d run a hand over it, Mando had finally broken his silence, “I noticed you were always cold, even if you had layers on so I.. wanted to make sure you weren’t cold anymore..”

You swore you could almost feel the heat creeping up his neck, and that softened you. He was nervous about giving you this cloak, like he didn’t know how you would take it.

You had smiled at him, a soft smile that made your eyes glitter like the surrounding stars and placed a hand on his knee lightly, “Thank you, Lori. I adore it, I truly do.” Then you’d spent the next minutes admiring it, putting the hood up and realising it shielded your face in shadow.

So, naturally, you had moved around the cockpit and upper level like a phantom, pretending to be a shadow in the night.

You’d even earned yourself a laugh from the great wall of beskar that was fast becoming your friend. It was only a soft chuckle, just picked up by the vocoder, but all the same, it had lit something within you.

It still echoed in your ears now.

A few moments later, the Mandalorian was back at your side, Grogu in his little bag and Duru walking next to him. “The point still stands. I thought I might finally get some silence at night, but you talk just as much.” His raspy voice had a softened edge, one of teasing and you might even have heard the hints of a smile playing at his lips.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, “You love it when I talk. I have to talk to you, otherwise I’d be worried you had turned to stone. You’re so quiet sometimes.” You stopped at a stall, admiring the fabrics here – not to buy, just to look at the different things in a place you had never seen before.

The Mandalorian made a soft noise, “No, sweetheart, that’s just called quiet time. You might want to try it sometime.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but something behind Mando caught your eye. Rising up on tiptoe, you peered over his shoulder… but there was nothing there. Weird. You could have sworn you saw someone wearing a hood just… watching you.

You shrugged, assuming you had imagined it like before and then looked back to the man before you, “I can be quiet. I just choose to fill your hours with my wonderful voice.” You flashed him a grin, eyes dancing.

A voice cut across before Mando could talk to you, “You.” It was a snarl, tinged with recognition that wasn’t exactly the most positive. It was bitter, aggressive and almost… pained.

Mando turned quickly, his hand flying toward the blaster on his hip, instinct overriding him. His movement allowed you to see who had just interrupted the conversation.

A lady stood there, with curly magenta hair twisted up into a braid. She had tattoos along her neck, and her eyes were a shocking green. She was breathing quickly, staring at you with such disdain that it made your neck prickle.

How did you know this woman? You’d never been to this planet before.

You blinked, holding up your hands as a surrender gesture, “Uh… I’m sorry but I don’t know you. I think you must have me confused with someone else…”

The lady shook her head fiercely, making the whisps of her hair that had escaped bounce wildly. “No. I do not have you confused. I would know you anywhere.” Her eyes were wild with fury, pinning you to the ground with just a stare.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know who you are. Maybe you could tell me your name?” You extended a hand, trying to diffuse this situation and help the woman understand that you aren’t who she thinks.

She flinched back from your reach, even though she was still a good few feet away. “How dare you. You don’t even know who I am?” She made a noise of disgust, looking you up and down in such a way that you were surprised the skin didn’t flay from your bones, “Typical. I don’t know why I’m surprised. She was probably just another tool to you, wasn’t she? Another person to use and discard like trash.”

You blinked, your hands dropping to your sides. Your skin began to tighten, your blood turning a little frosty. You looked to the side, seeing a few people start to stop and watch this altercation happen.

The Mandalorian seemed to pick up on this at the same time as you. He turned more toward the lady, his hand still within reach of his blaster, “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?”

The woman barely even looked at him, “Don’t get involved in this, Mandalorian. You’re just as bad as she is. At least to do what you do, you have to have respect and creed. You have morals, no matter how murky they are.” She jabbed a finger at you, “Unlike this savage monster.”

Your breathing immediately shallowed, getting a little unsteady as she spat out that word, that hateful word that followed you around and hounded at your feet. “I’m sorry? For whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry if it’s hurt you. I didn’t mean it, truly-”

She laughed, a cold and cruel laugh, but her eyes were slowly turning glassy with tears. She took a few steps closer, “You don’t even remember her name, do you? Shall I remind you? Help you distinguish her from your kill list?”

You didn’t fail to notice the way the Mandalorian’s stance shifted. His body tightened and he stood closer, shielding you slightly with one of those ridiculously broad shoulders. He was going on the defensive, feeling the situation start to spiral.

The woman barely spared him another glance, “3 years ago, you showed up on Trask. You stumbled around the market for a few days, bleeding from a wound in your leg and you passed out.”

Realisation was beginning to filter through you. It sparked in your mind and you remembered a dark street and rain, your leg heavy and cumbersome beneath you. It had burned like fire and when you went down, you couldn’t get back up again.

The woman was still talking, “Someone picked you up, took you to their home. My sister. She was there for work, and saw you lying in the street, like some kind of dumped animal. She nursed you back to health, gave you somewhere to stay.” She could see it as it began back to you, “You took her aid, her comfort and then, there was a warning put out in the village. There had been a high-risk fugitive spotted in the village. Anyone with information was to come forward immediately.”

Your hands curled into fists, your chest shuddering as guilt and darkness began to swirl within you, “Stop.”

She chose not to hear your quiet plea, “I was supposed to meet her. But she sent me a comms message. She would meet me, but she would have someone else with her. Someone who she couldn’t tell me over a comms message. Someone in trouble. People said this girl was dangerous, to be handed over with no hesitation but she didn’t see that. No, she said this girl was terrified, that she just wanted to live.” She tilted her head, walking closer again, “But the next day, this special little girl was gone. And then the Imperials came.” Her voice shook, her expression unreadable.

You shook your head mutely, not wanting to hear this, memories flooding your brain.

“Someone had tipped them off that my sister was harbouring a fugitive. They tore through her home, destroyed it and dragged her in for questioning. They demanded she tell them, beat her when she denied it. She never gave it up.”

The woman was right in front of the Mandalorian now, who extended his arm out, ‘That’s close enough.”

Nausea roiled your stomach, and you weren’t sure if you were going to pass out or throw up. There were too many eyes on you, too many people watching as this woman revealed you bit by bit.

The woman lowered her voice, deadly soft and it shook, but carried in the silent square, “My sister was murdered because of you. Because of what you are.”

Mando froze, his head tilting back to look at you slightly. You still hadn’t told him.

She wasn’t done. “They told me a few weeks ago that you’d been captured by a Mandalorian. I wept with relief that day, because I knew the Mandalorian wouldn’t fail. You’d be taken to whoever wanted you, and you would finally repent for every single sin you’ve ever committed. Your life is littered with them. My sister, my beloved sister is dead because of you. A killer. A beast. Your hands are stained red, girl, and they will always be stained red. I admit, I’m disappointed that you slithered into his head with your poison too but you will kill him too and then… You deserve everything that will ever come to you. And more.” The woman was breathing almost as quickly as you, her eyes glinting in sick delight at the pain she was causing you.

My sister is dead because of you.

A beast.

Her words mingled with that seductively dark voice in your mind and you gasped for a breath, knives feeling like they were digging into your lungs. Your eyes darted around, noted the strangers looking at you with horror and that shared disgust. A father pushed his daughter behind his legs as he caught your stare, hissing at you.

A flinch ran down your body and without a second thought, you turned tail and bolted. The sunlight was too bright, obscuring your vision harshly and making you stumble every now and then.

You were distantly aware of a male’s shout, then a harsh thumb and the Mandalorian’s voice snarling, “Stay down.” He stopped to check your pursuer was down and then he was running after you. “Hey, wait.”

You ignored him, boots pounding into the dust as you ran through the market, needing to get out of this place, get away from her and the memories. Where the hell was the ship? It was right here a minute ago. I haven’t gone the wrong way. This is the way we came.

You could still hear Mando behind you, knew he was hot on your heels. “Drop it, Mando.” You led him around people and stalls, knowing if wanted to be in front of you, he would be. He was letting you flee, stopping anyone coming after you.

Dodging around a crate of fruit, you almost sobbed. There it was, the Crest, gleaming in the sunlight. You slowed down as you reached it, stopping a little way away to let the ramp come down, let you inside to sanctuary.

Nothing happened.

Bastard.

You took a breath, trying to get past the tightness in your lungs, “Let me in.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” His voice was firm, arrogant, in a way like he knew best and you’d listen to him.

~“A killer. A beast. Your hands are stained red.”~

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, staring at the Crest, at where the ramp was tucked in tight. Your heart was pounding, not from the run, but from the realisation that no matter where you went, there would always be someone you had touched with that curse. “No. I’m not telling you anything. I don’t owe you anything.”

He laughed behind you, but it was a cool laugh, nothing humorous in it, “I’m not saying you owe me anything, princess. But some woman just cornered you in the street and spat abuse at you. I thought I would be prying you off of her, not chasing after you.”

A wolf. No. A beast.

You spun round, eyebrow raised, “Because I’m some wild animal that would rather fight than talk my way out of a situation?”

If he had no helmet, you would have seen him blink, “No, I’m not saying that. But, well. You have to admit it, don’t you?”

Something was beginning to prickle up the back of your neck, his words threatening to cut a little close, “Admit what?” Venom laced your tone and you tensed, as if bracing for a punch.

The Mandalorian walked closer, oozing confidence like he somehow knew you better than you knew yourself, “You don’t really think, do you? You never calculate the risks of a fight. You just jump straight in with no regard for your own safety. I mean, when I came for you on Sorgan, anyone smart would have seen a Mandalorian and run.” He wasn’t saying it in an arrogant way, he was saying it as fact. And he was right. A Mandalorian appeared on the street and you turned around and crossed to the other side. You didn’t engage him a fight and flirt with him.

A cold laugh rocked though you and you tilted your head, “Anyone smart? So you’re calling me stupid now? Is that it? Beast or stupid?” You took a few steps closer to him, ignoring the villagers milling around that had started to look, having heard the fight in the centre of the market. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t calculate risks. You think I’ve had time to calculate risks in my life? I don’t have time to sit with my little notepad in my ship and jot down the pro’s and con’s of engaging in battle. I didn’t have the luxury of being trained like you.”

Bitter astonishment filled the Mandalorian’s voice, his own body going rigid, “The luxury of training?! You think I chose to become a Mandalorian? That I woke up one morning and skipped along to Mandalorian school?” His voice rose, the rough rasp turning to stone with every word.

You observed him with a steely gaze, something in you needing to push him away, to protect yourself before he got too close. So, you aimed for what you knew would work, his Creed. Your eyebrows rose, looking him up and down as you leaned your weight on one leg, “You’re telling me you weren’t born with that thing already stuck on your head?” Spiteful sarcasm dripped from your voice and you pointed up at his helmet.

The Mandalorian let out a snarl that no doubt usually sent normal people running. He stalked toward you with predatory grace, a hunter toward his prey. “Don’t you dare.” Like he read in your eyes where you were going with this.

Ugly triumph filtered though you as you stood your ground, not afraid of him, “It’s all the same with you Mandalorians, isn’t it. You have all your training, don your shiny armour and suddenly you’re better than anyone. That helmet goes on, you don’t have to face the consequences of what you’ve done. No one knows who you are, so you don’t need to take the blame.” These words were spiteful, beyond cruel and you hated yourself more and more for each one, but he was starting to get into the cracks, starting to see you. You couldn’t see him die.

Mando was right in front of you now, towering above you with all his broad-shouldered posture, frustration roiling off of him in waves. “You think I don’t feel remorse for what I’ve done?” His voice was so low, barely leashed.

You nearly purred, tasting the promise of a fight, even if it did twist a knife into your heart. “I’ve never seen it.” You tilted your head back to look up at him, letting every ounce of spoilt, cruel brattiness melt into your expression.

A soft growl rumbled through the helmet, so muted you barely heard it in the noises of the market behind him.

Yes. Yes.

And then he relaxed, his shoulders eased and his hands uncurled.

What? No – Disappointment, maybe even shock registered on your expression. You’d been sure, so sure that aiming for his beloved Creed would get him to fight you. Why hadn’t it worked?

Mando shook his head, the sunlight bouncing off of the shiny metal, “No. I’m not doing this with you. You can’t push me away, no matter how hard you try. You don’t mean anything that you just said, I can see it in your eyes.” He pressed a button on his vambrace, and the ramp opened behind you.

He saw you.

That dark beast was starting to awaken, its ears pricking up. You needed to get out of here, away from him, away from this, now. You just shook your head, turning around and walking up the ramp, watching Duru as she ran ahead of you.

Footsteps sounded from behind you as the Mandalorian followed you. He took Grogu from his little pouch, popping him on a cargo crate and Duru immediately jumped up next to him. “Don’t walk away from me. I’m trying to help you, but you keep shutting me out. Why did that woman say those things about you?” His gloved hand enveloped your wrist, his grip not tight or authoritative, but it began to break something in you.

“Let me go, Mando. I mean it.” You let ice creep into your tone, trying to disguise the cracking inside you, the darkness that was beginning to stir and whisper.

And the damn tin can saw it all. Your back was to him, but he still fucking knew, “Please… You know I would never judge you for it, for whatever you did to make her say that.”

Excuse me?

Anger flared through you now, igniting into a blaze and you snarled, “Whatever I did?!” You didn’t give him time to respond, not before you swung around, using his grip on your wrist for leverage. You had spent enough time around him now to become familiar with the plates of his armour, so you knew you aimed correctly when your fist connected with the side of his ribs between the front and back plates.

He grunted, jolting a little but he still didn’t let go. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant-” His voice had softened and, in your rage and hurt, you mistook the pleading tone for a condescending one.

Before he could finish, you punched him again, harder, “Don’t. Don’t try to start spewing excuses at me. I knew perfectly well what you meant. You thought that she had been hurt by me. That I killed her sister with my own hands. Probably slit her throat and bathed in her blood.”

“No, no, I didn’t. If you would just listen to me and stop shouting, please-“

Your foot connected with his shin, making him stumble backwards. You followed after him, “You didn’t even stop to think that maybe, for once, I didn’t actually do anything. But no. Like always, you looked at me and saw the worst. You assumed that I was a monster.” You chopped down at his inner elbow this time, causing him to let go of you in reflex.

Mando tilted his head, his voice coming out sharper this time, “I assumed?” He laughed, the bastard laughed, “What else am I supposed to do, sweetheart? You’ve been on this ship for nearly a month now and I still don’t know anything about you. So yes, I was wrong for assuming, but can you blame me?”

Your eyes flashed and you were on him again, “So it’s my fault that you thought I was a monster? You’d met me for all of two seconds on Sorgan and started whispering in my ear like honey, that death followed me wherever I went. There was a bounty over my head and that’s all you saw.”

Mando went still, his shoulders tightened, and his voice came out lower, “You’re still bringing that up? I told you that you weren’t my bounty anymore.”

Before you could answer him, that velvety voice inside your head started to whisper in your ear, “Oh no, oh my sweet darling. He sees you. The real you. He knows you’re a monster.”

You shook your head sharply, lifted your eyes back to the Mandalorian’s stupid face. Helmet. Visor. Whatever. “I’m not your bounty but you believed that woman. So say it.”

His confusion was palpable, “Say what?”

You took a step forward and your chest butted up against his, “Say it! Say that I’m a monster. A murderer. I kill everything I come near.” You laughed, coldly, the words coming out with your voice but in your head, they were being repeated in that cruel, silken whisper. “You regret it, don’t you? Throwing away my puck. You wish you’d kept it, then you could get rid of me, be free of what I’ve done, why I’m being hunted.” Those steel bands were still wrapped round you, crushing you, swallowing you whole again.

Something broke in him, his composure as the anger rose again and he leaned down to you, “Stop.” The command was a growl and he lifted a finger, pointing at you, “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

Yes. Yes, fight back, fight me. Tell me what I know I am.

You raised your eyebrows, smirking at his finger and then back up at him but your expression was bitter, “Am I? Why’s that, Mando?” You tilted your head and practically purred, “Tell me.”

The tension in the room was tight, the air almost crackling around you with this outburst of emotion, the threads of your entwined lives pulling taut.

The light bounced off of the plates on his shoulders, betraying his slightly ragged breathing, “You just screamed at me for assuming the worst about you, yet you did just that to me. How can I want to be free of you, when I don’t even know who you are.” He lifted his hands to your shoulders, to try and calm you down, to push you away maybe.

The smirk began to slip from your face, “Does it matter who I am?”

His grip tightened, “Of course it does. Because you’re not a bad person. Let me help you, please. Just tell me something. Anything.” His voice turned pleading, and he lifted a hand from your shoulder, like he was going to cup your cheek.

You’re not a bad person.

Fire blazed within you again, protective and destructive. This was too close. He was getting too close. You had to stop it, now. You had to get away.

You reached up, grabbing his wrist and using the element of surprise to slam him against the wall behind him, pinning his wrist there and then your blade was at his neck, dull light glinting off of it, “Back off. You can’t help me. I’m not some broken doll to add to your ragtag collection.” Your own breathing was ragged, coming in sharp pants as the room started to spin.

The Mandalorian flinched, like you’d hit a nerve and his free hand moved. Bingo.

Yes, you thought, almost begged, Punch me. Fight me, please.

But he didn’t. He just curled his fingers around your wrist and pushed you away, dislodging your knife and knocking you back a few steps. Like you were weak.

You couldn’t do this, he was starting to slip through the cracks that were forming in you. He was looking at you, seeing you. He always had, from the moment you were nothing but hunter and prey, he knew exactly how to get through your intricately woven net of silver-tongued quips and cocky arrogance.

No.

Your voice cracked, echoes of the dark beast’s laughter in your ears “No! Stop pushing me away, stop taking it. Fight me!!” You surged for him again, your hands curling into fists, slamming against the beskar plates again and again.

You didn’t care that it hurt, that it made pain explode across your knuckles.

You liked it, you liked the pain. Deserved that and so much more.

And the Mandalorian… just stood there. He shook his head, just slightly, “No.” He stood there as you hammered your fists against his chest, even when you started to kick him. Just watched as your eyes became glassier, your punches harder but less accurate.

Why wasn’t he fighting you?

Your hazy mind began to overwork, searching for something, anything to provoke him, “Why? You don’t want to fight a girl? Too proud are you?” You slammed your knee into his, pulled at the armour plates, honed your pain and fury into him but he just absorbed it. “You’re as weak as I am, you’re running too. You’re the hypocrite, Mandalorian, not me.” Your words were stilted, made no sense as you spat out words as cruel as you could, just needing to provoke him.

Nothing did. Nothing. There was no noise in the cargo hold but the sounds of the people outside, beeping, the dull thud of your fists, your spiteful words and your own ragged breathing.

And the whispering in your head that had turned into a full-on symphony of bitter taunts and sniping truths. It rose with memories, flashes of your dead parents, the battered bodies of those that had tried to help you, people who had been caught in the cross-hairs of your life. Innocent people that had turned into nothing more than collateral damage.

Blood had started to smear on the beskar, your knuckles splitting open with the repeated impact. You could hear Duru meowing, Grogu gurgling in worry but you didn’t care.

The beast and its army rose, tasting the scent of blood and bringing you visions of the future, of the Mandalorian, dead on the ground. The blood from your fists turned into his own, painting the ground red. Duru, fur soaked in scarlet and Grogu, his tiny little body broken on the floor in a pool.

And above them, you stood, soaked in the blood of these three. Relishing in the pain and torture that you had caused. You could taste their blood.

The room began to spin further, the whispering detonated into a roar and it unleashed a heavy roiling cloud within you. It choked you, squeezed fists around your lungs, clouded your eyes and snuck into your head. It whispered to you, such cruel taunts, sucking out the deepest, most vile thoughts you had about yourself and spat them back out, combined with these visions of the future. It leeched the energy out of you and with a choked sob, your knees gave way.

Duru let out a yowl of concern, springing off of the cargo box.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be confident, or strong. I can’t be brave and cocky, I can’t keep throwing myself into every fight, I can’t run anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t-

And then a pair arms caught you.

Mando caught you. He didn’t haul you up against him. He didn’t try and pull you up.

No, he sunk to the floor with you, supporting your weight in his own body, leaning against the wall and letting you collapse against him.

You froze, your body stiffened as he did. This… people didn’t touch you like this. They didn’t put their arms around you unless they were trying to drag you somewhere.

You hadn’t been hugged since you were a child, and yet here you were. The Mandalorian was holding you, but loosely.

Waiting, for your consent. For you to be okay with this.

And as his gloved hand brushed your back, such a tender warmth broke through you, caressed your pain and you couldn’t resist. You sunk into him, the last saps of energy leaving you as tears flooded your cheeks. The armour was hard, digging into you a little bit, but the feeling of just being held was more than enough.

He wrapped his arms around you, coaxing you against his chest. His legs were either side of you, one stretched out on the floor and the other resting up to support your back. Distantly, you were aware of four clawed feet padding over your lap, Duru settling into the space between you and Mando’s arm.

The armour disguised the frantic beating of his heart, your tears and shaking of your body held the trembling of his own hands, but he didn’t mention it. Didn’t mention the fact that this was the first time he had held someone like this that wasn’t the kid… since he was a child himself. He was just as starved of touch as you, even more so because he had no skin-to-skin contact either. He could feel your warmth through the fabric of his clothes that weren’t covered, could feel the weight of you leaning into him.

He didn’t speak, just held you in the dimness of the cargo hold, keeping you together as you fell apart, kept the promise of death away, just as you had done for him.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #star wars #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #grogu

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littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

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Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster, @lin-djarin, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

#death and an angel #my fic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #soulmate au #my writing

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sometipsygnostalgic · 3 years ago

Text

adventure time wizard city liveblog

well here we go

my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014

this takes place at the same time as obsidian?

DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE

DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE

yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk

@spaceacepearl joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN

This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene.

“get offa my bus kid”

Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new!

OH MY GOD--

HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME

HAHAHAHAH

THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER

i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs

my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”

cadorka..... wow

We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses

“this smells of DARK MAGIC” “yall kids know thats illegal right” peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL

i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb

SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch...

i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead

how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up

i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out.

im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...

Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date.

“they only laugh because youre different” “i know” “SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT” oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness

ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings.

PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road!

candy people in their natural habitat

Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors.

“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady

the mystery of how he gets clothes

and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?

NANI

what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories.

OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over

peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER

love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him

wow, blaine, wow

they have a crush

LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!

i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible.

TRDGFYGHJH

WE MADE A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS

PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET

ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity

who plagiarized finn’s signature???

turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!

i love this band

i understand your pain peps

you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)

I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian.

that... that poor kid is still a rock

and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose

i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist.

i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good.

WHAT

DID SPADER JUST DIE

IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM

oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck.

Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland.

THESE ARE JUST HUMANS

OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS

my child

is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this

HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME

the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose

bufo killed one of his own students? but why????

“MY UNCLE’S A COP”

“no one likes a rat”

i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?

HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN

did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,?

EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL

MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I HAVE QUESTIONS

god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time

these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y.

fdgfhgf because he’s like 500

“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”

sorry, cadebra, i have news for you

is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be,

ANTS

oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :(

HELP

the writing on the wall...

SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST

PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????

THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW

okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T

wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not

HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF

sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????

fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense

This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!

LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG

LEAF MAN

DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY

DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY

HE LIVES

MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL

okay, it’s over :)

first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing.

it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance.

it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self.

i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol.

THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff!

God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.

That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her.

It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special!

I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate.

I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end.

I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!! I wish they drew more from that episode.

Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him.

The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule.

I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER.

We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!

I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!

Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T

i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger!

#adventure time #wizard city #atimers

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

Note

Is Drowning going to be continued?

Yes it will be! Enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4... I may make a masterlist with visuals on the character's faces soon.

This one is not my best work as I had no motivation today, but it filled with whump and angst? (I have no idea what that really means, but I heard it had something to do with mental side of whump). Not too much comfort and fluff.

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: (past) knock-out gas mention, mental torture, forced to allow someone to be hurt, threatening, feverish whumpee, IVs, needles, medical setting, burning (mention/threat), physical torture, blood, pnuemonia

"Did you really think that I was just going to let two million dollars fly past my head?" Villain asked as he reclined lazily upon the bed, one leg draped over the other.

"I didn't-" Hero took a deep breath, filling her lungs up with the vital oxygen, before continuing. "I didn't think that you had the nerve to betray me."

Villain tutted- a small chuckle filled with amusement. "I have more nerve that you give me credit for."

Hero and Supervillain were discarded on the ground, wrists tied to other's, in a white cell that could be described as clinically professional. Hero could feel the supervillain's uneasy breaths as his warm body was shoved against her's.

The room was quite capacious. A hospital bed laid in a corner with a chair by the foot of it. The chair was blocked by three sides of a hard-looking material that obscured the inhabitant from looking anywhere other than the bed. Next to the chair-like object, a vintage-looking table with a Bohemian placemat was placed. A small succulent grew in a plastic container, the circular green and purple leaves beaming under the LEDs that illuminated the room. There were no windows, or anything really other than the various moniters and implements.

Though Hero could not see him, she knew that Supervillain's head was loosely dangling. And, judging by the slow breathing, he was still unconscious from whatever drug was used on them. It wore off pretty quickly on Hero, but between Supervillain's already weakened immune system, and the fact that it was a gas, it effected him more greatly.

"What are we doing here? They could've just killed us and be done with it," Hero said, trying to adjust herself to be more comfortable. One wrist was bent painfully where the heroes failed to adhere to her comfort.

"Ever here of the term lab rats, darling?"

Lab rats... in a way, it was a vile term. Vulgar is a sense, but not mortifyingly revolting either. But still, it made Hero cringe as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. Medical room as a cell... they were to be experimented on. Or tortured medically. Or something along those lines.

"But he is sick," Hero pointed out, but the wicked smile on Villain's face made her regret mentioning anything.

"Hmm. Precisely my dear," Villain stood up and crouched in front of Hero. His minty breath gusting just along her cheeks. She crunched up her nose in protest, but the Villain still sat there.

"You see... there is this new drug that the heroes created to give people optimum strength and stamina. But the side effects are... let's say undesirable."

"Undesirable?"

"Yes. Intense pain and fatigue after the intial boost. It is derived from adrenaline, so just imagine that pure exhaustion he will be feeling."

"H-he?" Hero stuttered.

"Yes he," Villain chuckled. "What good would it be for you to be given this stuff?" He shrugged and stepped away.

Hero didn't get it. There had to be a catch, an unwaiting punishment on her end, but there was nothing. At least Villain didn't say anything.

"The doctor will be in shortly," Villain said and walked out.

The doctor. It had an interesting ring to it. Orderly and seemed to hold high authority.

Supervillain shifted behind Hero and coughed. Hero could hear his harsh breathing, the liquid within his lungs gurgling about.

"Where 'm I?" He groaned.

"Supervillain?" Hero chirped and grabbed his cold fingers with her warm ones.

"Hero," He replied, squeezing back. It was a weak gesture, but meant the world to Hero.

The two remained silent, cherishing the other's touch. It wasn't too long before a man in a white coat opened the door, followed by a timid looking woman.

Medic.

Hero felt an inner rage- one that was not only fueled by Villain's betrayal, but also by her former friend's initial disloyalty.

But she could not act upon it, because the second the restraints were unlocked, she was scooped up by a couple heroes. They carried her struggling body over to the chair.

Hero knew that they were going to seat her in there, so in one last desperate attempt to catch a glance at the supervillain, she looked behind her.

Supervillain was being ruthlessly dragged across the floor and to the bed. Gears turned and Hero suddenly came to the breathtaking realization.

She was going to have to watch the doctor administer the drug to Supervillain. She squirmed with more aggression. No! She couldn't let this happen. He was too sick, too weak, to withstand whatever miseries the serum brought.

"Let him go! You can have me!" She growled, but her attempts to protect the sick supervillain were fruitless.

"Calm yourself Hero. It'll be easier," the doctor spoke. His voice was deep and oddly calming, given the circumstances.

"No," Hero hissed, ignoring the doctor's attempts to charm her into compliance. She wasn't that easily brainwashed.

Hero was strapped into the chair. Leather straps were placed upon her forehead and temples, restricting any kind of head motion. Her hands were brutally cuffed by unpadded, metal sleeves on the armrests. Her ankles were also held steadfast to the floor by ankle cuffs and bolts. She felt so vulnerable and exposed as she watched the guards heave the limp supervillain upon the bed to restrain him in almost an identical manner. Except, a leather strap was placed around his chest and torso.

Once the two were settled and properly restrained, the doctor put himself between the two captives.

"I don't know what that insufferable villain told you to about the procedure, but he most likely completely over exaggerated it," he said, holding a clipboard.

Hero nearly sighed with relief.

"This drug is going to give Supervillain superhuman strength and energy. Once it wears off, it was be increasingly painful and will make him feel absolutely miserable."

"This," the doctor continued as he walked closer to Hero, eyeing her. "is your part of the job. We are going to bring in men and women alike and threaten to burn them with fire. This," the doctor tapped a red button that was just far enough for her fingers to reach, "will stop the drug flow and start a morphine flow to numb the pain. If you press it, the civilians will be hurt. Understand?"

Hero whimpered, sinking as far back as the leather and metal restraints allowed, fear and nervousness coursing through her like caffeine- raising her heartbeat and making her fidget.

A guard handed the doctor a tubular object. Hero jerked away as the doctor put the object close to her ear. Suddenly, and without warning, there was a stinging prick.

"Ow!" Hero exclaimed, but the pain quickly resided.

"Bring them in," the doctor ordered. The door banged open and the scuffling a feet was heard. There was a short scream and rattling of chains. The smell of gasoline filled the air as surprised whimpers echoed throughout the room.

Adrenaline pumped through Hero's veins as her brain made sense of the situation. She had to choose: Supervillain or countless other people.

Innocents.

It's the most logical choice to save the innocents, Hero told herself as the doctor and Medic hooked up an IV line. It was an improvised IV, no doubt about it. The needle had a tube that parted ways that each led up to their own bag of liquid- one was yellowish, the other green.

Supervillain groaned slightly, moving his head over weakly to watch the doctors inject the sharp needle.

"What'dya doing?" He asked weakly, pulling slightly at his restraints. His eyes widened, but only briefly as they almost slipped back closed again- exhausted from the pneumonia and drug in his system.

"Begin induction," the doctor ordered Medic who nodded stiffly. She opened a tab with the green liquid. Hero watched as the serum made it's way through the tubing and into Supervillain's hand. Supervillain watched too, with a dazed look to his gaze.

Within only a few seconds, Supervillain's body seized up as his breathing increased rapidly. He pulled desperately at the restraints, but didn't seem to be in pain.

Actually, his face shone with a newfound energy. In a way, he even looked happily excited.

"Hero!" A woman's voice rang through Hero's ears. "Hero, please. Don't let them hurt me please. Please."

There was a scream, then a couple more. Hero pulled back her head, trying to block out the screeches. The begs and pleas. It was all too much, way too much.

She knew that she couldn't press the button when the drug finished its cycle.

Within a few minutes, Supervillain's buoyant facial expressions receded gradually into a look of pure agony. He hissed, shaking his head back and forth with rigor, but his strength was fading until he was left sobbing and coughing weakly.

Even though he didn't show it after the sobs ceased, the supervillain was still in obvious pain. His lips raised periodically, showing clenched teeth. After thirty minutes, or so Hero guessed, the doctor spoke up.

"Take the civilians away."

There was another shuffle of feet, another slammed door and then silence.

Until the doctor spoke up.

"Release Hero and Supervillain." Guards buzzed around the two, unlocking restraints. The second Hero was free, she bounded over to Supervillain, nearly laying upon him.

"Hey, hey, hey," Hero wrapped shaky hands around feverish cheeks. Supervillain's eyes were half-lidded. The visible parts of the brown eyes were glassy and very unfocused, staring at the ceiling with no intent whatsoever. He was barely conscious and very weak.

Impossibly weak, with or without the sickness.

Medic worked to remove the IV carefully. It took a bit to ensure it was done somewhat safely, but the bruised, bleeding wound wasn't even disinfected.

This torture went on for days. Hero, being mentally tortured, started contemplating pressing the botton- before remembering her duty as a hero.

One day, when the doctors were done, Hero scooped Supervillain up. His pneumonia was worsening, blood seeped through his lips more often. The doctors started giving him antibiotics, but it was never enough.

"Do you regret this yet, Hero?" Villain asked that one particular day as he drew a chair up besides Hero and the shivering supervillain.

Hero didn't even hesitate to give the short, but meaningful answer.

"Yes."

#supervillain whumpee #hero caretaker #villain whumper #hero whumper #lab whump #medical whump #heros and villains #writing #threat #pneumonia #tw needles #mental torture #drugged whumpee #feverish whumpee

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