#ive thought for so long what was she thinking and feeling?

[kaisturni]

pillow princess | c.sturniolo

→ chris x fem!reader

→ plot; traveling with the triplets, y/n usually shares the room with nick. in a sudden change of plans, she ends up sharing the room with chris. with the unexpected presence of one bed for the two to share, tension arises through the night when only inches separate them.

→ warnings; SHMUTTT, dom!chris, swearing, fingering, grinding, unprotected sex, cum eating, hair pulling, creampie, use of nicknames

→ a/n; this one has so much build up i didn’t even realize so sorry 😛 thank you to everyone who voted, hope you guys love it!

NOT PROOFREAD (sorry)

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“that flight was terrible,” i groaned, the boys all nodding in agreement, everyone stretching their limbs every which way.

“honestly i just can’t wait to get to the hotel, anyway, i call sharing a room with matt,” nick says, as the four of us wait for your check bags to arrive.

“what! why?” i shoot a confused look at him, since nick and i are always the pair to share a room together, hell we have so many sleepovers, even sharing a bed isn’t a problem.

“because you fuckin snore, y/n,” nick states bluntly, i feel my face falling into offense.

“no i don’t!” “yes you do,” the three say in unison. i always hated when they did that. it’s creepy. but i’m confused at this sudden accusation, because nick has NEVER brought up anything about me snoring before.

i say my thoughts out loud “what are you talking about? even if i did, you sleep like a rock!” i retort.

“tonight is just NOT that night, besides we have to be up all day tomorrow to vlog AND film with sam and colby. besides, chris doesn’t mind your snoring anyway,” nick argues, chris shoots a cheesy smile and a thumbs up at me, i roll my eyes at the both of them realizing this is a losing battle.

“okay, whatever. just don’t keep me up all night,” i point a finger sharply at chris, since he’s always up until the break of dawn and even then has more energy than ive seen anyone have in the morning.

“noted.”

at least we’re not sharing a bed- i think to myself. not that it would necessarily be a problem, but for some reason he always made me so nervous. i dont want to admit it’s a crush, and i dont think sharing a bed with him would help with the aching nerves i get being around him. the thought of the circumstance makes me shudder. best just not to think about it.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

we all go to nick and matt’s room first, just to film some of the vlog. we all explore the room, opening every drawer and examining the snacks on the tv stand, and i admire how plush and soft the bedding is. at least i’ll sleep good on this tonight. chris seems to have the same idea as me, gripping on to the top part of one of the beds where it meets the headboard. i can’t help the thought of him doing the same thing but me beneath his body; the idea of it makes me squirm. i shake away the image as my ears tune back in to the conversations going on.

“that’s a really cool… deck!” chris exclaims,

“that’s a REALLY COOL DECK,” nick mocks him, eliciting giggles from both me and matt, and i almost forget for a second that this isn’t the room i’m staying in, and i try to keep the conversation going as long as possible.

after about 15 minutes of filming, matt hands the camera to nick, giving the outro for the evening.

“goodnight everyone, we’ll see you guys tomorrow when we go explore austin,” nick says to the camera, then shutting it off.

after our own collective goodnights, chris and i making our way down to our own space. i’m so exhausted i can’t even hear myself think. my eyes linger down the dim hallway to matt and nick’s room. i’m honestly still a bit bitter about the whole room situation, i make a mental note to scare the shit out nick at some point during filming with sam and colby to get back at him.

i unconsciously smile at the idea of it, not noticing chris looking back at me,

“what are you smiling about?” he says with a little giggle, i reconnect my brain to my actions, eyes widening at what he could be thinking about me stupidly smiling as he keys us in to the room,

“nothing, just thought of something funny earlier. it was a pretty cool deck,,,” i say in a sing- song voice mocking him, he rolls his eyes “yeah whatever, it wasn’t that funny,” he states, i do a mental cheer to myself that he didn’t catch on to me trying to unconditionally hide where my mind was going to after he said those words; to be fair i WASN’T smiling at the thought of us sharing a room, but considering how i had been acting about the whole thing, i’m not exactly sure how convincing my explanation was.

the door opens and he flicks on the lights, after my eyes adjust, both of us are met with a singular king bed, identical headboard facing the city of austin, i can see my eyes widen in the reflection of the window in front of us.

i feel my cheeks turn hot, and i can see chris out of the corner of my eye glancing at me, also keeping himself silent amidst our little… situation.

he breaks the awkward silence in the room by clearing his throat,

“gummy bears,” he starts, placing his bag on the plush white chair in the corner of the room, while i throw mind mindlessly on the floor trying my best not to think about the current situation

“i’ll be eating these tonight,”

“woah for free?” i say grabbing the bag from him, also making an effort to cut the awkwardness somehow still lingering in the air.

“no definitely for purchase,” he says walking around the room, “oh,” I throw the bag down, now uninterested in the snacks in front of me.

“what side do you like?” he asks, making himself comfortable right in the middle, arms stretched out on both sides, giving me a crooked smile.

cute.

“i prefer the left. but whatever side is fine,” i proclaim, doing my best to seem indifferent and not give him the impression that i’m going to be a pain to sleep with.

not like that, of course.

“good answer, i sleep on the right,” his smile doesn’t break as hops off the bed and rifles through his duffel bag,

“i’m gonna take a quick shower, won’t be long. put something on for us to watch,” i nod, and he disappears into the bathroom.

time passes as i’m left alone flicking through channels, eventually settling on a random movie i’m sure neither of us have seen before, this will do. i decide to find some pajamas of my own.

of course, my fucking luck and to my horror, i come up empty on a sleep bra AND shorts. i cant help but physically face palm myself at my lack of planning, but forgive me, i was anticipating on only nick seeing me in a lack of clothing.

i peel off the safety of the clothing i have on, and slip in to a separate thong and a t-shirt that is just barely covering my ass.

i’m so fucking stupid.

suddenly, the water shuts off and i race with myself to get back into my side of the bed to avoid chris seeing me and my shift in wardrobe.

he emerges from the bathroom, and i steal a glance at him, standing there with wet curls and his upper half still slick, highlighting all the muscles visible on his body.

the sight of him makes me heat up just to look at, and i cross my legs tightly to hopefully get rid of the aching between them, and flip my body around to face away, unaware to the fact that my ass is on display to him.

“no, no pants, huh?” i hear him let out a shaky breath from the other side of me, feeling my cheeks grow hot again, i make my best attempt to pull my shirt down and face him, beginning my ranted explanation.

“no yeah sorry i-i just was expecting to sleep with nick, this is what i usually wear i’m sor-“

he cuts off my rambling with a laugh,

“you’re fine, it just took me by surprise, that’s all. but you should probably move over, i think we should both go to sleep in a little,” he suggests, i can tell he’s being careful to not fully raise the covers, in order to avoid the exposure on my end.

i almost feel relief that he doesn’t care, but part of me wants him to care. to see him get hot and bothered by seeing me like that. but thankfully, yet unthankfully, this is a purely platonic sleeping arrangement.

“yeah, yeah you’re right,” i let out half heartedly, letting my eyes travel back to the scene on the tv, but i can’t help but peer out of the corner of my eye and notice how good he looks.

fuck.

his jaw tight in seeming concentration of the nonsense in front of us, hair messy from his shower, his chest slowly rising up down and rhythm and i almost let my eyes wander down his body to the waistband of his pants or even lower, but i don’t dare to allow myself the chance.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

my eyes shoot awake, and i prop my arms up to look at the clock a few feet away,

3:24am.

the tv is shut off, and chris is calmly sleeping beside me. i guess i had unknowingly fallen asleep at some point during the movie. i sigh and rub my face, beginning to make my attempt to fall back asleep again. suddenly, there’s a shift in the bed and i feel an arm snake across my hip and pull my closer.

i gasp and freeze at the contact, not daring to make a move. i feel chris’ hands squeeze at my hips, and a barely audible groan escapes his lips. my breath starts to pick up when i feel him harden against my ass.

i don’t know if i can take this. he isn’t even awake right now. he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

i quickly turn to face him,

“chris!” i whisper yell and shake his shoulder, with his hand still holding on to my nearly bare hip.

as he comes to consciousness, he deeply inhales and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness. realization hits him when he quickly removes his hand from me and darts up into a seated position. i can almost see him blushing despite the dark haze around us, the same feeling creeping upon myself for the nth time tonight as we sit in silence, which is quickly broken by his voice.

“shit, y/n, i-i’m sorry,” he begins, “i was just dreaming and, and i didn’t realize what i was doing I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he explains. my brows furrow slightly as i realize the context of his words.

“what was the dream?” i ask, my own curiosity getting the best of me, but the confidence in knowing he was most likely having some sort of sex dream about me makes the lustful side of myself take over.

his head tips back, i can tell he’s contemplating his next words.

“you. y/n. us. right now. i always thought you were pretty, but you looked so fucking hot earlier, like you’re literally half naked in the same bed as me. truthfully I’ve had feelings for you, and seeing you like that… it just made me want to fuck you,”

the last part of his statement is just barely above hearing level, and i’m honestly shocked at his confession. i didn’t think this would ever happen, that chris would ever see me in that way, but i got over that quickly.

i don’t know what came over me, but my actions and words only grew in seduction, and i was now determined to break him.

“sorry, i didn’t hear you, you wanted to what?” i craw over and sit myself on his lap, placing my hands on his bare chest, and i feel his breathing and heart speed up.

“i want to fuck you, y/n,” he says in a single breath, and i take it as a sign to crash my lips into his.

the kiss is deep and sensual, his hands snaking down to my ass and squeezing, causing me to groan, and in response i grind myself onto him, feeling his dick grow hard beneath me.

the lack of material between us causes the wetness between my legs begins to rise quickly, and chris takes no time to comment on the state of my arousal.

“fuck y/n, i can already feel how wet you are,” he says between sloppy kisses, and one of his hands slaps my ass hard, the other gripping for dear life.

i gasp at his action, and his tongue fully enters my mouth, and i don’t bother trying to fight for dominance. all this new contact with him is already making me feel buzzed.

he flips us around so my back hits the bed, and i look up at him as he grips the headboard, our lips reconnecting in a matter of no time.

his hand gently tugs at my shirt, signaling he wants it off, and i inwardly smirk to myself knowing there’s nothing between my shirt and my bare body.

i swiftly remove it off my body, and even in the dim light he can see my chest, i purposefully squeeze them together causing him to bite his lip and move down to claim a nipple in his mouth.

i moan at the contact, he sucks hard at the sensitive bud, other hand snaking down to my panties, which i’m sure are now thoroughly soaked.

as if he read my mind, his fingers easily glide between my folds, and i whimper at the feeling.

“you’re so fucking wet—all for me, yeah?” he says lowly, those words coming out of his raise even more arousal in me, and the only thing i can do is nod and moan in response as he rubs my clit with his wet fingers.

he moves my black thong to the side, and i bite my lip in anticipation for his fingers to enter me, and he slowly inserts two, causing both of us to moan in harmony.

his lips rejoin mine, but the fast pumping of his long fingers inside me make it difficult to kiss him back.

i feel the knot building up in my stomach and i know an orgasm is approaching fast.

“c-chris, i’m gonna cum,” i breath out, shocked that i’m withering under my one of my best friend’s touch.

he hums at first, his pace slowly picking up, “cum for me pretty girl,” he purrs in my ear, i pant feeling the build up in my sensitive nerves release, him continuing to pump as i ride my high through his fingers, now covered in my own cum.

he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, licking my juices off of his fingers,

“you taste so fucking good y/n,” he bring his hand down back to my folds, and i wince at the contact.

“suck,” he demands, bringing his fingers to my mouth, and i look him dead in the eye as my tongue swirls around his digits.

the eye contact pierced through me, and i let go of the grasp i have on his fingers with a pop, his lashes fluttering at the sound. chris’ lips meet mine again, and i hardly notice him removing his plaid pants, palming himself through his underwear and groaning into my mouth.

“is this okay? do you want to do this?” he asks, rubbing sweet circles on my inner thigh. how could i say no to him? we’re way beyond that.

i nod in affirmation, “more than okay, i want you, chris,”

chris smiles and swiftly pulls me to the edge of the bed, peeling away his last layer of clothing. his erection springs up, and i take a deep breath at just the sight of his size, tip leaking precum.

i instinctively spread my legs further for him, and he pumps himself a few times before aligning with my core, wetting himself between my folds.

he slowly pushes himself into me, and the sting of his size makes me hiss,

“i’ll go slow okay?”

i nod and close my eyes, and his forehead press against mine, pushing his dick further. i feel our hips meet and he pulls out almost all the way, before slamming into me.

fuck going slow.

i can’t control the loud moan that crawls from my lips, one from chris, “fuck,” follows soon after. his pace picks up; wet noises, skin slapping, and loud moans are the only sounds that fill the room.

he pulls himself out, and i prop myself on my elbows and give him a confused look,

“turn around,” chris grows, and i do without retaliation, sticking my ass far up in the air with my chest pressed against the mattress.

he wastes no time inserting himself back into me, going to his rhythm once again.

chris grips my hips so hard im sure they’ll be a purple hue in the morning, but that’s at the least of my concerns right now.

“god, you feel so good. you like bein a pillow princess, don’t you?” he huffs, continuously bringing our hips to meet at a pace faster than i think i can breathe.

the only way i can respond is through a muffled groan into the bunched up sheets, holding on as hard as i can.

he grabs my hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls my head up,

“answer me. you like it, no- you love it, don’t you?”

“yes, i fucking love it chris!” i say as i gasp for oxygen, and he shoves my face back into the pillow, spewing praises and profanities into the air.

“i-i’m close baby, where should i cum? “chris says, his strokes becoming sloppier by the second, and i feel him twitch inside me, causing myself to clench around him.

“me too, shit, i-inside me, cum inside me,” i breath, way beyond fucked out to realize the consequences of those words.

with one last stroke, he releases inside me, and i feel myself become warm inside, both from him and my own cum painting his dick.

we simultaneously pant as he pulls out, and i flip myself over, feeling completely drunk off fucking him.

his body crashes down next to me, delivering sweet kisses to my face and lips, unlike his previous animalistic behavior just a few seconds ago.

“are you okay? how was that? did i hurt you?” he questions through pants, i giggle at the change in demeanor.

“i’m okay, it was perfect, and no you didn’t. i loved it, chris.” i say, running my hands gently through is slightly wet hair, some strands sticking to his forehead from the sex-sweat build up.

“i want to keep doing this,” chris starts

“me too-“

“but i want to be more,” the words leave his lips quickly, and his eyes focus between mine, analyzing my face, searching for a response.

“me too,” i state again, “but what are we going to tell nick? matt?” the idea of telling them didn’t cross my mind, but the anxiety of having to face them about that makes my heart race.

“we can keep it to ourselves— for right now,” the octave of his voice raising slightly at the end, posing his proposition almost as a question.

i smile and place a gentle kiss on his lips, “we can do that, but not for too long, okay,” i say after pulling away.

chris smiles warmly at me, “okay, but we should really go back to sleep. it’s 5:30,”

i almost get whiplash turning my head to look at the clock so fast, and i widen my eyes at how much time has passed.

“good idea,” i reply, shakily crawling back under the covers.

“you’re sleeping naked?” he questions.

“yes, is that a problem? you coming back here or not?” i raise my eyebrows at him,

chris shakes his head; “not at all, come lay on me,” he makes his way to his side and opens his arms for me, and i inch my way over into his warm grasp.

chris places a soft kiss on my forehead, and i can feel myself slowly drifting into sleep. i don’t think im going to scare the shit out of nick, my mind thinking of my previous vendetta against him; little does he know he did me a huge favor.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 21}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief OMC x Reader

Summary: Memories and feelings overwhelm you, conversations need to be had about how things crumbled between you and Din, but the wedding is only a few days away and a plan of escape needs to be made despite it all.

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, noncon touching and physical affection, reader initiates sexual advances even if she does not want to, reader is complicit in an uncomfortable situation, sexual situations, adult content, talk of past arguments, talk of past miscommunication, din raises his voice one (1) time, argumentative language, inner musings of reader, mentions of past heartbreak and pain, reader is being held captive against her will, talk of self-harm, references to past self-harm, mentions of IV ports and shots, deadly poison, talks of injuring / killing people, um i think those are all the major ones?

A/N: been struggling with inspiration lately, this fic means so much to me and i didn't want to force the writing when it wasn't working. but here's the next chapter and i hope it holds up to the rest of the fic. we do get a pretty big moment in this one though, so i hope that makes up for the absurd amount of angst

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

His voice is low, reverent as he asks if you’re okay, only for another current to overtake your body. The harsh sound of the pain stealing the words away from you as your voice distorts into something sharp and loud. It’s too much, you think, too strong a sensation for your already weak mind and body, for all the months of stress and manipulation. Convulsions shake you in his hold, his large hands cradling you close and trying to take what he could from you.

The power of the Force flares, trying to combat the currents, and you feel completely helpless as you try to fight something that seems to be happening in the very synapses of your brain. And then it’s waning, as suddenly as it had begun, the only evidence of the storm raging inside your body is the one that mirrors the intensity outside in the howling of wind, of too many lightning strikes, of booming thunder and pouring rain.

You’re barely able to get half-breaths in, panting at too high a staccato to really ease the dizziness setting in as you pry your eyes open and see Din staring down at you with his brows furrowed. Maker, his eyes are so beautiful and his shaky chuckle tells you the words had managed to slip from your trembling lips.

He whispers your name, calling you back to him as your focus blurs and your eyes begin to slip closed again.

“She…put something…in me.” You try to explain your scattered thoughts, the memories of the last time you had been in the same room with him knowing it was him trying their best to resurface. But you push them down as each interaction since then vies for your attention, and it hurts to think he had been beside you this whole time and you hadn’t the faintest clue. The man who you felt so connected to had been at your side, waiting, helping, learning how to interact with the version of yourself that feels so flat all of sudden for all that you hadn’t been able to recall. The emotions of the past few months dousing you tenfold, assaulting your nerves and capacity to handle the realization. “She’s…she’s controlling the currents…somehow.”

“I’ll fix it,” His voice is low, noticing how each deafening clap of thunder is making you wince, like it had so long ago back on Tatooine. “I’ve been trying…I’ll make it right, mesh’la, I swear to you.”

“O-okay,” Is all you can manage before you feel consciousness slip from you, drained from those few moments of pure clarity and everything that had come with it. You’re reaching up a shaking hand, caressing your fingers along the side of his face. His eyes flutter shut at the first touch to his furrowed brow, his breath hitching as they gently glide trail over his eyelids. His skin is warm to the touch, even though the fabric of his mask and cowl you know is beneath as you lay your palm on the side of his face, attempting to cup the glimpse of him he’s allowing you to see.

“Din, I’m…I’m so tired.”

“I know, mesh’la, but you’ve been so strong, you’ve been so unbelievably strong. I’m so proud of you for remembering, you did such a good job, mesh’la.”

“Ad’ika, is he…where…can we…?” But you never get to finish your sentence as another current strikes through you, making your hand fall from his face and your consciousness slip from you completely.

Footsteps are loud as they race through the palace hallways, heard over the rain pelting down from the angry sky. Din is running as fast as he can, being mindful of the unconscious form of you in his arms. He has to get you somewhere safe, he has to get you to the quarters he shares with Cara. He uses all of his senses to try and ensure no one catches a glimpse of either of you as he enters the quiet servant’s quarters.

Cara isn’t asleep when he carefully opens the door and she jumps up from where she had been sitting atop her bed with a halo net tablet in her lap. The volume was low on the video she had been watching, a map of the city of Maldovan disappearing as she presses it off and throws it onto the blanket. She’s up and watching silently as Din carefully lays your unconscious form down on his own cot. He’s so careful, so tender as he pulls the blanket up around your body, ensuring the flowing nightgown you were in, lined with lace and silk, is covering you up.

“Mando…”

“She remembered. She was running down the hall and collapsed, something…some kind of current was assaulting her. But she remembered.”

He trails bare fingers over the track marks in your arm from where you had been injected, a line hooked up to you obvious in the indented line it left along your inner forearm, the port still in place and clamped shut by a piece of plastic. There’s a mark on your neck that concerns him, a tear in your skin that hadn’t healed yet though he smells the bacta thick on your skin.

He’s not talking, not explaining further, too enamored with having you back beside him, he’s sitting on the edge of the cot and leaning over you. His breathing is even despite how hard his heart is beating in his ribcage.

“She remembered.”

“That’s…that’s great, but we’ve got to get her back to the infirmary wing. If her mother or the prince go in the morning, and she’s gone…they’ll trace her down until they find her.”

“Just…a moment, just give me a moment.” He doesn’t voice his pleading, but it’s the closest he had been to you in months, the time apart as he searched for you, the time we was nearby but still just a stranger to you as he tried to help cultivate a rapport with you. He can’t help keep the vulnerability out of his voice as his eyes rove over your unconscious face. Cara remains quiet, knowing that this means so much to him. She keeps her steps quiet as she goes into the common room for the quarters.

An hour goes by and you begin to rouse, your eyes flutter open slowly and the first thing realize is that you’re laying down in a small bed. But it isn’t the one in the infirmary you had fallen asleep in, it’s one in a room you don’t recognize. There’s a shadowed form hovering close and you feel panic spike, before you see brown eyes glittering in the dim light of the lantern on the bedside table.

“It’s just me, mesh’la.” Din’s voice is deep, unmodulated and smooth. It’s jarring, to hear it so close, to feel his bare hands tracing up and down your arms again. It feels so good to be by his side, to know who he is once again, but your heart is heavy, and your head is swimming.

“Din…”

“We can’t just run, the prince would send endless hunters after you until you were returned to him. Your mother too, would stop at nothing to keep you under her control.” His words are true, you know in the very core of them both, they are children who wish to not lose what it theirs. They would stop at nothing to have you under their control should you slip away or disappear from the palace. They would surely target Din once again, track him down, rightfully thinking you returned to him or he came and stole you away. He had been here, for nearly two months now, beside them without them knowing. He had…he had removed his armor, his helmet to be by your side without suspicion. He had given up part of his identity to ensure your safety in the midst of a den where you were surrounded by nothing but striking snakes and constricting regulations.

But the thought of spending one more second within the stone walls of the palace, within the large, imposing walls of the palace grounds. One more insipid conversation about details of a wedding you did not want even when you could not recall who you were, one more touch of your mother’s hands to your skin, you couldn’t bare the thought. It made your stomach roil, nausea rising and you take in a deep breath to keep it at bay.

“We didn’t before, we were worried about you lashing out, of running from us because you didn’t know who we were or believe us.” You see the struggle reflected in his eyes, their glittering brown in the dim light, the way he’s keeping them on you so intently. You feel your stomach flutter, his eyes. You’re looking into his eyes, the eyes of the man who you had never anticipated feeling so intensely for in the way that you do. That he returns, despite the circumstances of your connection of your lives.

You feel so strongly for him and your fingers itch to reach for him. To caress the exposed part of his face and find out if it’s as soft as it looks despite the wrinkles you see set into his skin. If the hairs of his brow are soft to the touch, would he even let you run your fingers over them? You don’t deliberate long as you watch your hand cup the side of his face. His eyes flutter close, and he leans into the touch, the fabric of his mask like liquid against your palm. Holding your breath, bottom lip between your teeth, you raise your hand and trace the tip of your pointer finger over the arch of his brow, first one and then the other.

The moment is still, everything in the room fading around you as you focus on the man in front of you.

His hair is soft, his skin is soft. He’s as still as a statue but he’s not as stoic. His brows furrow and give away his trepidation and worry as you greedily take in every detail of the exposed part of his face. A crease forms in his forehead as he keeps his eyes closed, long dark lashes fanning out over the barest top of his cheeks revealed for your eyes to see. The outline of his nose is just below and you lean in to press your lips to it without thinking, as if you’re allowed to.

“We’ve dealt with it before…with ad’ika.” You lean back a little, propped up slightly, but at the flare of pain in your temples, you’re leaning back onto the pillows with a small gasp. He’s standing suddenly, his hands coming up to cup your face, his eyes focused on your own as you try to keep them open. “Where-?”

“He’s safe, he’s with Cara. You’ll see him soon enough, I promise.” You weren’t sure if you were ready to see him, if you were completely honest with yourself. The small child would be all you needed to give into the urge to run, your instincts telling you that he didn’t need to be anywhere near the people who were doing this to you, because they could do the same to him. Endless threats hidden in the shadows of your life growing and expanding, looming over not just you but the child and Din as well.

Your words feel flat, the sentiment behind them lost in the worries that plague you, that had become a reality once again. He was right, just disappearing wouldn’t resolve the situation, it would only amp it up to a degree in which would rain down continuously on your little trio.

Turning your face into his palm more, you feel warmth bloom in your chest. His skin is so soft, the middle of his palm especially, while the pointer and middle fingers of each are a little more callous from years of triggers and weapons. His hooded eyes are wide, holding so much emotion as he looks down at you, brows furrowed and small wrinkles taking on shadows in the dim light. He looks so vulnerable, so unlike the demeanor he puts on underneath the helmet. You see the movement of his lips beneath the fabric of his mask, faintly, the barely there motion telling you that he has his cowl securely in place underneath it.

“I don’t want to have to worry every time we land on a new planet, take a new job and think that it’s a trap, feel…fear that you’ll walk down the boarding ramp and I’d never get to see you again. Should you want to travel with me, with us still. I would do it, if you wanted to just go now…but mesh’la, I don’t want that for you. To be constantly on the lookout like you’ve been your whole life. You deserve to be free, truly free.”

You’re quiet, reaching for his hand and tangling your fingers with his. You see his eyes close, the deep breath he takes as his chest expands beneath the black flowing robes he dons. He’s sitting back down on the edge of the cot, his body angled toward you as he leans forward to touch his forehead to yours.

The door is opening and Cara is peeking in with a hardened expression. Her own flowing robes are a cerulean blue, complimenting the light tone of her skin. Pulling the dusting of pink over her cheeks and of her lips. You recall the pull you had felt toward her, days before.

“Guards just got sent out on a search, I think someone got paranoid with the storm. They’re sure to check the infirmary during their sweep to secure the palace.” She’s trying her best to keep on a hard gaze, but her eyes soften and her lips twitch when your eyes meet hers. “It’s so good to see you again, cya’rika.”

“We can say I asked you to walk me to the greenhouse room to watch the storm, I did that…when I was first here quite a bit, it’s believable I would stray away once again.” Din is helping you to sit up, the sleeve of your sleeping gown falling at the action but his bare fingers are fixing it back into place. You feel embarrassment flare, recalling the way you had nearly screamed at him, accused him of wanting you all to yourself after that incident in the bathhouse.

He's strong but gentle as he helps you to stand, your legs are weak but thankfully not aching or sore from whatever your mother had ordered done to you this latest visit to the infirmary. Your head throbs with the shift, hand flying up to rub at your temples.

“Just…really quick, are there…marks in my forehead or anything here?”

Din is quick to step in front of you, an arm around your middle to help keep you balanced. His eyes, scan your face, the skin above and around your eyes that you motion to, keeping rubbing at.

“Mesh’la, I don’t see anything. But they could’ve used bacta or surgery to cover what they did, you said that you felt like she put something in you?” He’s gently tracing over your face with the pads of his fingertips, searching for anything that could indicate work being done or implants being put in. But there’s nothing; no protrusions, no bruising, no marks of bacta patches being removed, nor scalpels having touched you.

“My head just…it keeps throbbing, the thunder and lighting- it kept almost coursing through me. A current of energy, nothing like the Force. More like…electricity.”

“I’ll look over the records tomorrow, once things calm down, I promise you.”

When you approach the door, you’re shifting on your feet to balance a bit better before you throw your arms around the woman’s shoulders, stunning her. Her arms slowly come up around you to return the embrace. Her body flush against yours and making you feel a little better about having to return to your role of the obedient wife-to-be and daughter.

“Thank you, for helping me.”

“Anything for you, you know that.”

The hallways are quiet despite lights that had been turned on outside to illuminate the grounds. Thunder and lightning still flashing over the sky. Din is silent beside you, a hand on the small of your back and one of his outer robes draped over your shoulders to help cover you up. The sleeping gown and bare feet might be a bit of a giveaway that you had quite literally run from the infirmary, but your lie of wanting to watch the storm would work.

There’s a tension between you now, as you walk alone down the halls, unasked questions and worries about how this is all going to play out from this moment on. If…if you were to return to the Razor Crest with Din and ad’ika. If you were going to be…together in the way you two had begun to speak of and express to each other. You can almost sense the questions forming on his tongue, pushing against his teeth as he remains quiet. You’re sure he can sense the ones you have for him too.

How long did it take for him to look for you, to realize you hadn’t run off. Had he thought you ran off, had he even cared about the damage his stumbling and ill-thought-out words had caused. Did he come to save you out of some obligation to your freedom, a verbal promise made all those months ago now on Sorgan. Did he…did he still care about you even if he had no desire to be with you the way you had made it obvious you wanted to be with him. It was all so much, too much, to handle in the moment.

“San-“

“Not right now, please. It’s…it’s too much right now.” You’re unable to look over at him, to see the emotions clearly in his eyes. It’s still, it still hurts a little, to know that he had removed his armor and helmet to blend into the planet’s population, into the palace. You had never wanted him to do something he did not want, even at the core of your affection and need to feel close to him. The thought of skirting his Creed, of feeling him instead of seeing him under the cover of darkness had crossed your mind. But his…rather immediate lack of words and agreement to even talk about that had made you feel far worse for speaking it when you had all those days ago now. “We can talk once this is all over. I think- I think we need to.”

“Yes, mesh’la.”

The hall that holds the infirmary, the entirety of the medical wing is only guarded by a few soldiers. The ones you had skirted around still at their posts, but the one who had left from in front of the door to your room was back in front of it. A frown on his features as you and Din round the corner and begin to approach him. The furrow of his brow and the narrowing of his eyes above a similar mask and head cover as Din sparks an idea in your mind. One you hadn’t used in a very long time because it felt far too morally grey to implement. But if the people controlling you weren’t going to play fair, then you weren’t either.

“Princess, I thought you were safely in your room.” Din visibly tenses, as he senses this interaction may not work in favor of hiding your true whereabouts. “I didn’t know you snuck out.”

“I was in my room the entire night.” You pull on the power of the Force, harnessing it and sending it over the guard with a smooth wave of an open palm across your chest.

“Of course, you were in your room the entire night.”

“You didn’t see me or Aliit this morning, returning to the infirmary.”

“Of course, Princess. I never saw you or Aliit this morning.”

“Please step aside for me.”

“Of course, Princess. Stepping aside.”

Din is pinning you with a curious look, a glint in his eyes as you both step through the door and back into the room you had been put in by your mother. Whatever she had ordered to be done to you had required around the clock supervision and check ins, at least until you had shown signs of rousing. The scent of her perfume had lingered in the room when you woke, telling you she had left just moments before.

“I’ve never done that to you, I swear.” You look to him as you sit on the side of your bed. The silk sheets cold and the beads of the tapestry above it glittering. When he nods his understanding, you turn to read the Basic inscription on the programmed screen of your intravenous line. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, just fluids to keep you hydrated and a low-grade pain preventative serum.

“Why didn’t you? When I first found you.”

“Because I was weak.” Is your simple answer. The real one heavy on your tongue as you reattach the line to the port still embedded in the crook of your right elbow. “And because you didn’t deserve your head to be messed with. You showed your true colors in saving the child. Even if you had tried to turn in him.”

“Back on Sorgan, you didn’t do it either. Even when you ran.”

“I almost did. But something…a feeling told me it would be a huge betrayal of trust. An invasion of your mind and since you did not show your face, it was an even worse offense. Mandalorian’s are pure at their core. Religion and culture a reflection of exactly that.”

He doesn’t say anything, his eyes watching as you settle into the extravagant bed. His fingers twitch and his knees creak just the slightest as he goes to take a step but second guesses it.

“I like the code name. Very on the nose.” You muse as you begin to pull the covers atop the bed back. A crack of your own knees and a throb of your temple cause you to slowly settle in the sheets and pull them over your body.

“Native language seemed best, to help with your memory.”

“Smart.” You offer him a small smile, feeling warmth in your cheeks as you realize how self-conscious you’re beginning to feel around him the longer you’re both alone. It’s far different from before, when there was an understanding. But now…now you just feel completely and utterly self-conscious and all too aware of his denial of your advances. It didn’t seem to matter that he had scoured the galaxy for you, came to your side as soon as he undoubtedly could and had stuck by you even when you couldn’t recall who he was. There was something passing between you, unspoken and far too fragile to begin to dissect.

“I’ll see you tonight, Aliit.” Leaning back, you feel the material of his cloak bunch around you. Leaning up, you’re unfastening it from around your collarbone but one of his hands rests over yours to stop you.

“Keep it.” He’s leaning down over the bed, his warm forehead touching yours and that same flutter erupts in your middle. Your eyes flutter shut, unable to meet his gaze and when you open them back up he’s gone from the room completely. Snuggling down further into the blankets, you can’t help but take a deep breath of the bunched up fabric and a small smile pulls at your lips as the familiar scent of him calming your frazzled nerves.

“Darling, it’s time to wake up now.” The cloyingly sweet voice and scent of your mother is hovering over you, the weight of her body pressed against your side causing your breath to rush in and your eyes to fly open. Body tensing at the feeling of someone beside you, of being trapped underneath the covers that laid over your body. “Oh, oh, oh, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

Glancing around, you notice that you’re no longer in the infirmary but the gilded cage of a cell. The bars are thick only a few feet from the edge of the bed, pushed to the center of the wall that backs the space.

You can hear the faint hum of electricity despite there being no obvious source for it down in this dim basement of a floor. Most likely from a programmed door shielding you away doubly so from the little freedom you had when your memories were suppressed. But you had them, them and the power of the Force. You spy the slight curve of the wall just outside the bars, a staircase leading up rather steeply.

Hands are smoothing your hair, caressing your arms. And you turn to see your mother watching you, a glint of something in her dark eyes.

“I had to protect you, there was a scare late last night of intruders. One of the New Republic politicians was sure he spotted two people running about the palace hallways. You’re safe down here, my love.”

“But mother-“

“No arguments. Your safety is the most important thing, especially after that little fit you had the other day. I bet you don’t even recall having one, do you?”

You don’t, because you hadn’t had a fit. You had forced her hands off of you, power surging through your hands as you guided it to your advantage. But Din’s words, Cara’s reassurances that they had been doing everything in their power to prevent the routine use of the mind flayer to eradicate your memories and keep you in the dark. You feel a flash of fear should they have not been able to track you down, how much of yourself would you have lost, how much was still lost at the hands of your mother.

No, mother. I hope I didn’t hurt you,” You feign innocence, playing into the palm of her hand the way she expects you to. You have no idea what she did to you for the currents of shocking electricity to assault your body, but it hadn’t happened since last night when the storm was raging outside.

“No, my love, you didn’t.” She’s kissing your forehead as she stands, hovering over you as she fusses with the covers, ensuring you’re completely tucked in. Her hands are wringing together in front of her as you go to sit up, but the motion is halted by the clanging of metal and a weight around all four of your limbs.

Cuffs. You were cuffed to the bed by short chains, attached to the wrought iron foot and head rests of the bedframe.

“It’s for your own safety, please understand. I don’t want you fussing about in your sleep or hurting yourself by moving around too much. Please don’t be upset with me, my darling.” You don’t even get to respond before you feel the prick of a needle in your arm, too distracted by the cuffs. You should’ve known, you had been to unawares around her despite the history, despite the game she played, the dirty moves she made. The easy way she did it over and over again, You hadn’t even noticed anywhere on her body for her to hide the syringe, she’s dressed in her simple sleep clothes.

“Mother-“

“Shh, it’s okay, my love. Everything is going to be okay. It’s just until the festivities of the marriage, and then you’ll be free to move about the palace once again. I swear to you.” The back of her hand is soft as it traces the curve of your cheek.

“Mesh’la…I have an idea but it’s going to have to be set up for the last possible minute before the ceremony.” Din’s voice jostles as he takes the steps descending into your new ‘room’, his boots silent on the stone that makes them up. His robes billow out behind him, his head cover and mask securely in place. You don’t doubt he had known where you were moved to the second it had happened, the access card needed to open the door atop the stairs already swiped from someone. The guard surely relieved of their post in a ruse of him taking over.

You had roused from the dose of sedative just hours ago, the effects of it not seeming to last as long as the previous one. Whatever the reason, you were glad. The time alone down here allowing for your to click the locks of the cuff open and explore the space in relative peace. There was no easy way for anyone to escape, but you weren’t just anyone. You had the Force on your side and a few flicks of your wrist would promise your freedom. If only it were that simple.

“Consummation occurs the night before the ceremony, it’s Maldovan tradition. That would be too late, I…I haven’t had to lay with him yet and I…I don’t-“ The words tumble from you, the thought of laying with someone against your will again unsettling in your stomach, churning it up into unpleasant waves.

“I promise you that will not happen.” There’s an edge to his velvet voice, weight that grounds you even as the glaring nature of the conversation is not lost on either of you. He doesn’t ask about the time you have spent with the prince after dark nor do you supply an answer for him.

Cara’s form appears at the top of the stairs just as Din stands in front of the thick bars and you’re grateful for her presence. Being alone with Din feels tumultuous. Too many words on the tip of your tongue, on his.

“I want to use poison, something native to this world. But…”

“But what?” Din is looking between you both, his eyes sparkling in the light from the lanterns along the wall, the rays of the sun that sneak down the steps that lead down into your new cage.

“She’d have to take it too, to really sell the political angle. It would be seen as a disagreement with the union should the prince, the soon to be princess, and her mother all be poisoned the night of the first traditional ceremony.” Cara explains, hoping the extent of what needs to be done is understood, is taken with great caution and thought. She wants you to be on board with whatever decision is made, whatever plan is decided on. You would be the one to take great risk to your wellbeing in order to get your freedom back. You’re the one who would have to make it seem as if you had nothing to do with the murder of your own mother and the prince.

“I would need to take enough for the effects to show, for it to be recorded. I would need to be found at the scene…in the same bed as the prince, in his quarters. My mother, it wouldn’t matter much where she was found but she keeps to herself during the evening after dinner.”

“We can slip it into the glasses of wine served at dinner.” Cara suggests, though you and Din both shake your head. It’s too open-ended. The glass could get served to someone else, could get spilled, could heighten the effects of the poison or dull them alternatively. It was too risky, too many factors that could go wrong with extra servants, cooks, and guests. Too many hands it would have to go through before it landed in the one’s of its intended target.

“That’s too risky. San could overdose that way, intake just enough to make it harder to reserve the effects.”

“I could administer it to Cala, just before anything happens and then take it myself. One of you could slip it into my mother’s evening tea.”

“I’ll do it.” Cara volunteers, knowing that should Din be left alone with your mother, the potential for emotions would be a concern. Even if the goal is to kill her, the thought is to do it quietly. One wrong or derogatory word from her and the plan could be ruined. He was a professional, but he was also human, especially where you were concerned.

“No…I want, I want Din to do it. I would just…I would feel better knowing he’s as far away from me and Cala should he insist something were to happen and I can’t-“

“You’re to use a blade, we’ll ensure the poison is bonded to the blade. No chance of it not taking that way. Either the poison will take him out or the blade will.”

“The same should be done for your mother then too.”

“It’s a backup plan and cathartic relief all in one.” Huffing, you feel the effects of the last dose of sedative begin to wane, your head feels a little more clear, your mind a little more sharp. “But then I’d need to stab myself too, for it to all be cohesive.”

Din is watching you closely, his eyes trailing over your legs hidden beneath layers of sheer tulle and silk, picturing clearly the scars of blades you had dug into your skin before. He doesn’t mention them and you shake your head ever so slightly to get him to shift his heavy gaze. You know he knows they’re there, but you don’t want to talk about them. To reveal how close you had been to ending your life before, the thoughts of Akiz banishing the notion, of making you feel ashamed for it even crossing your mind. He had sacrificed his life to ensure yours, and you wouldn’t betray him in that way, betray his memory.

“No blades.” Din crosses his arms, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his robes. His mass is…impressive even without the armor. He’s tall, he’s broad, he’s every bit of Din as he is when he’s hidden underneath the armor. Though you can sense that he feels exposed and not just physically. His hands keep resting on the tops of his thighs, as if holding fast to a blaster that is no longer holstered there. He keeps his steps even, as if he is still not used to being without the great weight of his beskar, of the weapons he’s normally laden down with. His brows raise with his questions, which makes you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. Or the furrowing of them if he doesn’t agree or like a statement.

“It’s the most convincing way, even if I’m not too fond of digging a blade into my torso.”

“You’ll bleed out before they find you in the morning.” He’s firm with his words, his body language displaying every bit of strength his armor does, even as it sits in a protected trunk somewhere else.

“Just the poison then. I can track some down in the market after dark, I’m sure it won’t be too hard a task.”

“Just the poison then.” You agree, unable to tear your gaze away as his eyes bore into your own. “Cara, instruct the kitchen to get truffles from one of the higher end places in the tourism sector. We can inject it into those. Cala favors dark chocolate and walnut.”

“Copy that. I’ll go do that to ensure they have them in time.”

“Thank you. Oh, and perhaps just a small trio of white chocolate and fruit ones. So we know which one is for me and which ones are for him.”

As soon as she’s gone, you’re alone with Din once again. Tension siphoning into the air as her footsteps sound on the stone ground and up the tall stairs that lead up to the main level of the palace.

“He makes me feed them to him, when he requests me in the evenings.” You whisper into the silence, unable to handle the way it’s no longer comfortable between you two. But how could it, with you back in a cage, no matter how gilded and extravagant, and him on the other side looking between the bars that hold an electric charge. It’s rather basic, the high tech, sleek look of so much technology at a cultural clash with the desert planet who pays homage to simpler architecture and aesthetics.

“He doesn’t ever touch me, it’s as if he’s afraid to.”

“But he does order you to remain until late.”

“Yes, his requests are…personal.”

“Stop.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say. You’re not saying anything and I see your eyes trained on me. It’s- it’s more intense than the visor. I’m sorry.” Looking down, you stare at your hands in your lap, the way they tremble slightly. Body stressed and mind restless. The roundabout mention of his missing armor and helmet the only thing you could think of to change the subject without asking directly. The feeling of being seen, of being perceived is too intense, Maker, his eyes are looking at you, watching you, reading you. The thought of them behind the darkness of his visor a little less intimidating, but it’s gone now.

“I removed it, yes.”

“You shouldn’t have, if you didn’t want to.”

“I had to.”

“Oh. That makes sense, to get onto the planet, I saw the wanted posters for you depicting the beskar.”

“I had to, but…I also wanted to.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?” He doesn’t sound mad or upset, no disbelief in his tone. It’s as flat as your own, the words to heavy to implement emotion into them. They carry entire conversations in them, entire sets of intention, of arguments, of resolve.

“It’s not my place.” You mumble, not wanting to close in on yourself but it’s happening anyway. Mind protecting you against the vulnerability of the conversation, of the way the words had been stuck in your ribs since the moment you realized you had asked for too much.

“San-“

“You know the Creed. I know the Creed. How you choose to follow it is not my place. It’s a very personal thing for each individual. You practice, I do not. It’s not my place to question or think on the reasons why you chose to do things regarding it.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

“Forget it-“

“I can’t! I can’t just forget it, any of it! The look on your face, the hurt and disappointment, it will haunt me until my last breath!” His words are booming, catching you completely off guard and you flinch, pain searing across your forehead and down the back of your neck. But you freeze once it passes, aware of the heat of his gaze locked on you.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean-“ Breaking his gaze, you look down to the stone tiles of the ground. The lines separating them dance back and forth as your vision swims, as your mind tilts and you feel your center of gravity suddenly gone. Your knees knock into each other as you reach out for something to grab onto, but you’re down among the dancing lines before you can even take a breath to try and recenter yourself.

“Gev bic! Si gev bic, San! Bic ru'banar te ara bic ru'banar.  Vi linibar at cuyir able at jorhaa'ir a bic.  Ni liser't am bic bal gar liser't am bic.  Jorhaa'ir be bic cuyir jaon'yc par mhi at nari bat. I am living the consequences of my actions each day and I no longer want to.”

Stop it! Just stop it, San! It happened the way it happened. We need to be able to speak about it. I can't change it and you can't change it! Talking about it is important for us to move forward.

“P-please stop yelling.” You shudder as pain ripples down your body, you feel tears well up hot and sticky behind your eyes and you blink them away as best you can as you try to get back up. His hand is there, reaching through the bars. He’s deflated, his anger gone and in it’s place is the same man who had fetched you from the shower when you collapsed, the same man who had cradled you to him when thunder shook the skies overhead, the same man who holds your heart. He’s gentle as he supports your weight, a silent buoy for you to stand on as you gather yourself. An apology, two float in the air as you remain quiet, he knows he shouldn’t have raised his voice, emotion getting the better of him. You feel the remorse coming off of him in waves, reaching and curling around you as he tries to speak again.

“Ni cuy' olar, ni kelir ratiin cuyir olar.  A staabi jii, at tengaanar gar ner troan cuyir te shi kebi o'r ner kov'nyn.  Ni ru'kel tengaanar gar, ru'kir gar tionir tug'yc.”

I am here. I will always be here. But right now, showing you my face is the only thing on my mind. I would show you, should you ask again.

“Ni liser't.”

I can’t.

“Vaabir gar copad at haa'taylir? Vaabir gar ganar nayc copikla?”

Do you not want to see? Do you have no desire for me any more?

“Ni vaabir, a ibac cuyir  jorbe luubid.”

 I do but that is not reason enough.

“Bic cuyir par ni. Tionir ni.”

It is for me. Ask me.

He’s desperate, for you to understand, for you to grasp the depth of his words. But you can’t, unable to accept that he means them with everything he is. He’s done so much for you already, he’s set you free, he’s allowed you to travel by his side, to feel joy in caring for the child, to be wholly and completely yourself in a safe and protected environment. He’s already removed his armor and shown part of his face, he’s already done so much. Continues to do so even when you had no idea who he was, he could’ve taken the situation for what it was. A fresh start, a blank slate to move on without your presence in his life. The complications and miscommunication you had parted on only a blip in his time line, but he hadn’t.

“Din, nayc.”

Din, no.

“San, tionir ni. Gedet'ye. Duumir ni dinuir ibic at gar.” His voice is barely above a whisper, a quiet plea for you to ask something of him. To allow him to give a part of himself to you, but his need for your prompting is what complicates your desire for just that. He could just remove it, of his own autonomy and desire. He could, but he never would. He needs your words, your encouragement and you would not be the reason his creed is broken, shattered after a lifetime of upholding it to every degree. Shaping the core of his very person, allowing him to develop into the man he is today, standing on the other side of the bars.

San, ask me. Please. Let me give this to you.

But the words do not follow his pleading, they get stuck in your throat. A deep sigh from him brings your eyes up, mirroring the movement of his hands up to his face. He’s unfastening the loose mask; the fabric falls to the side to reveal his cowl in place underneath. As his fingers hook into the fabric, you clench your eyes shut and bow your head.

It’s only a moment before you feel his hands reaching through the bars, cradling your face and gently guiding your face back up. His forehead gently touches yours, warm skin where there’s normally cool metal. You feel your resolve begin to thaw, the want for it to be skin each and every time you do this to replace the feeling of his helmet. But it’s a dangerous though, it’s a deadly thought.

“San, please.”

“I-I can’t, Din. I can’t do that to you.”

“You are not doing anything, mesh’la. I want to, I want to give this piece of myself to you.”

“You can’t take it back.”

“I wouldn’t want to, everything I have to give, it’s yours. San, I am yours.”

“Din, please, I don’t- I want to, so much, but I can’t.”

“Then just- let me feel you, please? Will you let me give you a kiss, mesh’la?” Your body hums, blood pumping and chest aching at the desperation in his voice, his desire to give you something, anything. Just as you’re about to breathe out your answer, a resounding ‘yes, please, of course’ you feel the press of soft, plush lips to your own. It’s chaste, it’s gentle, it’s reverent. He’s so warm, his nose bumps yours and you feel the brush of facial hair for the barest second until he’s pulling away.

“Din?” You don’t dare open your eyes, heart in your throat, fingers reaching up to wrap around his wrists. His breath is puffed out against your lips, still so close, his nose is still touching yours, his forehead pressed to yours, and you feel your weightlessness in your chest. He hums a response and you feel it more than hear it, everything shared between you both so quiet now, completely at odds with how you had just been hollering at each other. “Was that your first kiss?”

“It was always yours, mesh’la.”

You’re surging forward, the cool metal of the bars pressed against your ears as you share his second, his third, his fourth. His lips are so soft, so full as they meet yours again and again. Slick bottom lip taken between yours as you breathe deep and tighten your hold on him. Your body is alight with tingles, with the feeling of being exactly where you belonged as you feel his skin against yours. He feels like home, even as you still remain separated by metal and circumstance.

The woman looking back at you from the mirror is beautiful. She fills out the dark green silk and black lace as if it was painted on. The top revealing and the bottoms even more so. Her hair is perfectly blown out and full, waves falling delicately around her face. Everything you’ve ever wanted to look like, but yet, you can’t connect to the eyes staring back at you. Because staring back at you is a slave, a pawn in a game you don’t want to be playing. The victim of endless manipulation and conflict, someone who you swore you would never be again the second your kyber crystal glowed white after purifying it.

You lean back from the counter, your hands splayed atop the white marble of it, shoulders sagging as your head hangs between them.

“Adan.” You call out sweetly, pitching your voice a little higher than it’s normal octave. The box of truffles given to you on the counter. Your eyes rove over the gold of the box, how shiny and frivolous it looks in your hands as you reach for it and leave the privacy of the bathroom.

He’s atop the bed, leaning back onto the pile of pillows he prefers to keep even while asleep. He’s bare from the waist up, his chest and arms on display as he has them lifted behind his head. His eyes trace the curves of your body on display for him in much the same way, robe forgotten on the counter. The second you’re close enough to the side of the bed, he’s reaching for you, pulling him over his lap as a giggle sounds into the air.

“Here, taste this for me, my sweet prince.” You reach for one of the truffles from underneath the flipped top, pressing it to his full lips with a coy smile gracing your own. He’s more than happy to part them and bite into the delicacy, the outer coating melting and smearing on his bottom lip. His hands tighten on your hips, teeth nipping at your fingers as he takes the second half of the dessert into his mouth.

Another giggle sounds into the air, from deep in your chest and you can’t help the giddiness that takes over you as you reach for another one from the box. One would be enough, more than enough. But you feel anger and betrayal flare hot in your middle, consuming you from the inside out. He willingly takes a bite of the second dessert offered to him, his body beginning to move beneath you, his hands guiding your hips down into him in a suggestive motion.

“Remove your set for me, my heart.” He leans up and presses a kiss to the side of your face, to your temple, to your nose. His lips are about to connect with yours when you hear it, the rasp in his chest. The wheeze of his next breath as he leans back against the pillows. His eyes are dilated, blown wide and there is no brown in them, the brown you now associated with another man. He’s gasping, hands tightening almost painfully on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to catch his breath.

A haunting rattling in his chest replaces air, his body tensing as it begins to realize something is horribly, terribly wrong. Nails dig into your skin, tearing the flesh and blood beads up before they loosen and fall to his sides. His chest is still expanded, his last breath fighting to keep him alive even as no more is let into his lungs. You keep your eyes open, watching the color drain from his tan complexion. Tilting your head just slightly, you swear you can hear the pops and bubbles of his lungs tearing, the flesh far too delicate and vulnerable to the poison hidden inside the truffles.

You watch as the light goes out of his eyes, as his body adjusts to the lower heart rate its adapted to try and keep things running, keep blood pumping despite the trauma occurring internally. The poison is fatal by nature, causing the lungs to burn, the heart to slow. But if only ingested in small quantities, the slowing of your heart to nearly nothing would be the only effect.

You hope the research had been accurate as you reach over for one last truffle. You hope Din had done right and only injected a half dose into the white chocolate and fruit one you had insisted on adding to the box of Cala’s preferred flavor. You hope that Din is going to be by your side when you wake as you take half of the truffle between your teeth and bite into it. You hope this will be the last thing you have to do to get your freedom back.  The intention of only eating half of it seems too hopeful as a current of electricity shocks through you and the entire thing falls into your open mouth. The silent scream from the intensity of the charge sealing your fate. You try to gulp down fresh air the second it passes, the chocolate melting far too fast in the heat of your mouth. Spitting, you try to get some of it out, staining the covers as you hack and cough in panic.

Another current courses through your body and you’re keeling over, body tensing and convulsing with the intensity, consciousness gone before you land on the plush carpet of the floor.

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[kamaluhkhan]

okay SO ive been thinking about my new luke x poseidon!reader series and ive had some thoughts....read more under the cut + vote for ur preference 🌊

more under the cut!!

option 1 will be within the pjo universe, but with some major changes. for one, reader is the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the prophecy. there would be no luke betrayal; instead, they grew up together, fought side by side, and had feelings for each other that they'd try to deny. reader left after defeating kronos, started a band (if you read my nemesis!reader series, specifically this chapter, you know the vibes), lost touch with most ppl. a few years later, things go south and she returns to camp half-blood to keep a low profile for the summer. this option would include lots of summer camp fluff + nostalgia, angst about the gods/prophecies, in universe references to events + character cameos. the general dynamic would be luke and reader dealing with the aftermath of the war in completely different ways that cause them to grow apart, and then this summer maybe starting to bridge that gap.

i realize this option leans more towards a camp rock x the summer i turned pretty × percy jackson plot. what i like about it is that i can play around with pjo (and maybe even heroes of olympus 👀) lore, but it's not what i initially had planned and idk how to decide things lol.

also i picture this set in the late 1990s/early 2000s: reader and luke sending texts through flip phones, sharing flannels and graphic tees, burning cds with the newest paramore or green day, etc. im also thinking about that one scene in sea of monsters where percy PRINTS a picture that annabeth sent of her at the golden gate bridge and puts it in his notebook. the equivalent of that would be luke ripping out a magazine article about you and the band and hanging it up next to his bed.

option 2 would be more of a modern au! no demigod lore, and set in 2022/2023. it would essentially be the same as my tsitp series, i would just change the names and adjust a few things, maybe add some fun references where i can. reader would have grown up spending her summers in long island with luke, thalia, percy, and annabeth. she and luke are the oldest. reader is a competitive swimmer in college (that's where the poseidon dna comes in) so drifts away for a few years, while luke is taking on a lot of responsibility as his mom gets sick. after an injury, reader returns to long island for the summer and things get....tense? interesting?

again, this would be very very similar to my conrad fisher series in terms of plot. i think of option 1 as taking the character dynamics of that series (eldest siblings with too much responsibility, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, summer nostalgia) and putting it into a pjo universe, while this one (option 2) is closer to the original plot.

with that said....

++ if u made it this far and read through my ramblings + voted, thank u sm 💓💓

[strawberryclementine]

I wish we had seen how Hina was feeling about Kisaki's death in the Tenjiku Arc, especially because we already saw her response to Emma's death, which he was responsible for. This could have been a really complex and interesting moment for her character! Unfortunately, Kisaki's death is around the time that it becomes clear that her character role was going to be degraded to just a prop and a prize to be possessed (which is ironic, because Kisaki just died).

We don't even see Hinata finding out that Kisaki is the one who killed Emma. We don't even know for a fact that she does find out! Do you think Takemichi would have told her the truth? Do you think she ever asked him about Emma's death, Kisaki's death, or Kisaki in general? How would Takemichi have responded??? This is eating me alive...

She's so deeply involved in the chaos of the Kanto Incident and she doesn't even know it. There is a really interesting tension created by her not knowing the full story (think of chapter 89), but this tension is never broken with her having a realization in front of the viewer. This tension did not simply die with Kisaki: there was still a realization/discovery to be had by Hina, and she would not have taken it lightly.

As the reader, we are supposed to just take it for granted that because Kisaki died she will now be with Takemichi forever. This is fine and makes sense because they're a good couple, but the omission of her realization/feelings about Kisaki's death and the confession of his plan is exemplary of the fact that we aren't supposed to care too much about her perspective. What "mattered", what was shown, was that she remains with Takemichi. Unfortunately, the story often treats her just as much as an object as Kisaki does, but it's not even intentional here.

Don't get me wrong, I love Takemichi and Hinata as a couple, but the storytelling did her very wrong by treating her as prize to be won.

[puppyeared]

i think the reason why im so drawn to spirit tracks and pkmn scarvi is that having the legendary/princess as a companion rather than a goal that marks the games completion makes me feel satisfied the way i would after helping a friend

my brother always teases me about how I still havent finished botw after almost 7 years bc "id rather be out picking flowers" which i wont say is untrue. and yes i know Zeldas been holding off ganon for 100 years, yes i can get some sort of idea what her relationship with link was like by recalling memories and going through her diary. ive always loved botw for its unique storytelling and setting which makes it stand out, because it lets you get to know who you're saving.

but because theyre memories, it only works if theres something for the player to investigate that already happened. its retroactive (but effective nonetheless)

on the other hand, spirit tracks does something similar but instead of having the player try to piece together memories and interpret them as a spectator, you actually have an opportunity to get to know zelda yourself by talking to her and working together. besides making it a gameplay mechanic, giving the player control over how they interact with zelda makes it so much more personable.

and I find that making the goal feel personal instead of an obligation gives me more of a reason to work towards it. I know what kind of person botw zelda was but as the player, shes still very much a stranger to me. but spirit tracks zelda? thats my friend!!!! she invited me to go to the beach after we get her body back!!! i dont want to whip her to make her move faster thats mean :(

you know how hostage negotiators are trained to introduce themselves and get to know the person theyre negotiating with because its harder to hurt someone when you know what their favorite food is? its kinda like that, because it feels like im helping a friend than being told or led to do smth

and although i havent played scarvi myself, i feel an attachment to koraidon and miraidon even just watching playthrough clips because its like!! thats my weird scaly dog!! it loves sandwiches and we're friends!!! you know!!!!!!

[oatbugs]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[thedrotter]

not-yet-dead-person

silly comic of a conversation in-game i thought was too funny not to make something proper for instead of a doodle ww

(timelapse + wip images (thus silly process commentary in read more if you like artist commentary :3)

i think the sketch looks silly and goofy and funny so i find it important to share with you the mere presence of the faces i drew on it. i drew it on top of the boxes without staying inside its borders because i find my proportions can get wonky if i draw them cropped in a restricted space. and I feel trapped otherwise and i will draw BAD!!! give me spaceeeee to go wild!!!!

the head circles are there for emotional support

very low res speedpaint because truth is the canvas was much bigger than the space where my comic was placed. i didnt account when exporting my timelapse in 720px that that tiny space would look so pixelated ... but it's able to be percieved, so its okay.

(i will now comment on my process and it is not brief sorry)

usually i would try to clean up my sketches and figure out what goes on top before jumping into linework, but since there are multiple panels and drawings i chose to jump into inking right away for the sake of brevity. i just went in with a brush that uses pen pressure and drew what was needed. i added extra line thickness and contrast in areas around the face because it helps direct your eyes there more easily that way.

according to her equipment rei has a chain belt but i only remembered it existed once I was going to color, and i did not like that discovery... I chose to ignore it to maintain my peace. i already have the color palettes for these characters figured out, and i didnt really want to think about a new element at the moment www I tend to overthink those things a lot so i skipped it

the rest is rather straightforward! not that anything else wasn't, but in here i could turn my brain off and sing. linework and sketching require mumbling so i cannot turn my brain off. just block in the characters with a solid color so i can have a mask (something along those lines,) where the color can stay inside. then just color in !!!

Base colors just had slight cell shading on the skin, and for the hair i airbrush a bit of the skincolor in low opacity near the forehead... I'm not sure what it means, but i can look at the faces easier with it somehow. i like the gentle subtlety it adds even if you cant really tell. it makes things look nice.

background was just me blocking in the color of the wall and floor, shade the wall a bit, then slap a noise and free use wood texture on top. work smarter not harder ! yet it took a bit to make it look stylistically fitting with the characters, and even now i think bottom middle panel looks odd. whatever!!!

for the middle panel i thought itd be funny if the background was a solid silly and colorful one to contrast the next panel's sketchy black one. a contrast to how the word widow is seen. on that note my handwritting is not pointy. i gaslighted my hand into thinking that it was indeed pointy in that moment so i could write "not-yet dead person" in letters that didn't seem cute. my hand did not fall for it but it complied anyway

that's basically it! I'm not sure what else i could say that doesn't feel barebones because it really is that straightforward. if you're curious I used clip studio paint for this. only special brush used was for linework (a brush named Lemon Brush), the rest used were just the default. my computer gets the least credit. it was trying to convince me a 20mb file was going to nuke it all the time and hardly let me save multiple times so i do not appreciate it

[nerosdayinanime]

wait. random idea. Pathetic(blame candy) muzan & kokushibo are exes from Centuries ago and he has Complaints hed like to talk about w him but all hes getting to now is Nakime. hes so sick of his bullshit and just enduring it and goes to kagaya like 'i have to kill kibutsuji. ill help you kill him & the other upper moons just PLEASE im so sick of this shit. i need to kill him' 'well you arent killing me so ill give you the benefit of doubt-'

since they broke up he's hacked at the curse to the point he can snap it Whenever without muzan noticing, he finally did so & went to kagaya bc he can Feel shit's gonna pick up soon. he has his memories but he Ignores Them bc hes ashamed and kinda projecting it onto muzan. he has to kill muzan to kill his shame kinda fucked up coping mechanism yk?

the hashira try to kill him On Sight together but he calmly deflects everything while explaining hes working with them to kill kibutsuji. reluctant acceptance with the note from kagaya giving him a pass. most of them fully believe its a trap tho.

koku seeing tanjiro & his earrings and starting to approach, giyuu already has his blade lodged in his neck as a warning/threat & tanjiro staring at him in shock like 'HUH?? THE MAN FROM MY DREAMS?? HES A DEMON NOW? WAIT WHATS HE DOING HERE-'

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[tonariofjananda]

I think about this moment a lot.

Like. It feels really rude that Fushi’s just brushing Tonari off like this, jerking his hand away as if he’s annoyed she even tried to touch him in the first place. The fact that we don’t even see his expression when he does this makes it feel extra brutal. But I think a lot of people see this scene as if Fushi rejecting Tonari’s ‘advances,’ so to speak, and I’m not convinced that’s what’s happening here.

Like, yeah we see that big love bubble at the corner of the panel while she’s telling Fushi how important he is to her, but Tonari’s just reflected on how she feels about him and ultimately rejected her own feelings. Romantic love is not something she wants to feel for Fushi. So I don’t think she was working her way up to a confession. At least, not intentionally (it’s not her fault Fushi’s an empath)!

Instead I think this scene is supposed to be a parallel of the moment that happens between Gugu and Rean.

Gugu doesn’t tear his hand away from Rean’s because he doesn’t want to hear her confession. He isn’t running away because he doesn’t love her back. Gugu pulls away from Rean because he’s rejecting the concern she has for him and his safety. He realizes there’s something greater that he needs to focus on, something he feels only he‘s strong enough to take care of. And he wants to take care of it to keep her and the people he loves safe. Gugu loves her, it’s just not the right time for him to indulge in it.

In my opinion Fushi feels similarly to Gugu (not the reciprocation part though). He appreciates Tonari’s concern and love for him- that’s why he smiles a little and thanks her- but it’s not the right time for him to indulge in that. He‘s still trying to prove that the world is at peace (something he’s doing because of her, for her), he doesn’t need or want her getting involved in his fight against the nokkers.

I wanna reemphasize that I’m not trying to argue that Fushi secretly reciprocates Tonari’s romantic feelings- he’s already said he’s never felt that way about anyone before. I just don’t think he’s outright rejecting them either.

I think the hands in this scene are also what get people thinking this scene is a little more romantic than it is. It’s a standard cliche where one character stops another from leaving after all lmao. But this to me is what solidifies this as a scene that’s not inherently romantic.

Them grabbing at each other like this is a much older, a much deeper thing for them. Back when they were on Jananda, they’d often grab at each other’s wrists because they could never quite see eye to eye. Tonari specifically would grab at Fushi’s wrists a lot when trying to impose her will on him and drag him along. Once they start understanding each other, however, their hands actually touch (ex. Tonari pressing Oopa’s blow dart to the back of Fushi’s hand).

This scene is a little mix of the two. Tonari’s grabbing Fushi’s wrist to stop him from leaving (imposing her will on him) but her hand overlaps with his palm a little (trying to understand him). Tonari doesn’t know what’s happening completely, but she knows enough to know something’s wrong. In a way, Tonari grabbing for his hand is her appealing to Fushi to open up, to let her in, follow through on this connection that’s always been theirs.

But he doesn’t. Fushi rejects it.

I think the chapter image shows it all pretty well too. They’re both reaching out for each other. But while Tonari’s solid in her attempts to reach him, Fushi's all fuzzy. It's as if these are his emotions. Like, subconsciously he wants to reach out, but he can't. So close, yet so far…

[girlcrushau]

[seithr]

Randomly remembered the half-reason i call my oc-verse by the name it has while laying in bed. One-half of the reason i still knew, but I had forgotten what had truly, really cemented it jointly until now

(it was a song from my favourite band I haven't listened to in a while.)

(the song fit so well at the time, still does, that i needed to hold onto it for the main protagonists forever, by partially naming their story in reference.)

Does this explanation make any sense? Does anyone know why I'm tearing up remembering this. Aahh

[toastsnaffler]

oh wow just saw flatmate messaged saying another friend passed smth on like oh okay. I didn't realise he went too u didn't say. in fact none of u said anything to me so that's great

[bo0zey]

when gerard way said “when i grow up i want to be nothing at all” i felt those words in my gdamn soul bro

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

companion!tav questions

General 3, 11

Story 8, 17

Romance 7

for Diodore! (I love that name it's fun to say)

Ooh, several questions! This'll be a bit of a long one lol (and thank you!!)

General:

3. Does she have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

Shadowheart: "It's not...common for a cleric to obscure their deity. I suppose I can't begrudge her commitment to secrecy."

Lae'zel: "She reminds me of my aunt... I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Astarion: "Gods, rogues [eye roll]. His dagger skills had better match his audacity."

Gale: "...Is that what all wizards are like topside?"

Wyll: "I can respect an idealist. We need someone to bring up the mood around here."

Karlach: "Oh...oh my. [Clears throat] She seems nice!"

Halsin: I can't for the life of me think of a specific line but it would be something trying (and failing) to keep cool and not show how excited she is about him officially joining the team lol. She'd be asking him a lot of questions about Surface flora and fauna in the "walking around" random dialogue.

Minthara: "She may not be a thrall of the Absolute anymore, but that doesn't mean we should bare our backs to her. Tread carefully."

Jaheira: "[Whispers] Am I supposed to recognize her? Did I miss something?"

Minsc: "Some people have a devil on their shoulder, some have a rodent. I guess."

11. Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for her?

A few things might:

She would have a couple lines wondering why a Baenre would join the Absolute after you meet Minthara.

She talks about remembering her father mention the Society of Brilliance after you meet them in the Underdark.

She reacts...a bit badly when you meet Karn'iss and explains her own fears about becoming a drider if you talk to her afterwards, as long as your approval is high enough (moderate or higher). If you didn't get certain details in Act I, you would get them at that point.

(idk if this is what the question meant? But uh hopefully I covered it.)

Story:

8. Does she have comments on who Tav chooses to spend the night with?

For sure. For low-normal approval, she'd make a snarky comment about it and move on quickly. For moderate & higher approval she'll ask about it in an attempt to be supportive ("this is what friends do, right? This is what bonding looks like?") but if you try and give her details she gets embarrassed and backs off.

17. If romanced, how does she react to the Dark Urge trying to kill her in Act 2?

Pausing for a moment to process wtf is happening and then getting very matter-of-fact. She'd talk them through it logically, trying to keep them grounded, except for the last bit before the last saving throw, where she'd accidentally show how scared and concerned she is for them. She would very purposefully place a hand on their shoulder, arm, etc. throughout to try and reach them and show that she's not scared of them (whether or not that's true). Durge would get her Aura of Protection bonuses on their saving throws. Lots of "hey, hey, look at me"-s.

Romance:

7. What questions can Zethino ask Tav about her in the Love Test?

I'm assuming this means from the pre-existing bank of questions she asks from? I got these from the love test ask game/master post(?) that veilkeeper posted.

What, if anything, do they miss most about their home?

When they die, what will be their legacy?

What is the worst thing they've ever done?

Typically, she would approve of honest, straight-forward answers and disapprove of answers that are clearly flattery or that she views as being too sugar-coated.

The questions are from this ask game!

[animutate]

man i dontthink i can be in a real relationship ever again im just starting to process how everyone has treated me HORRIBLY