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grapejuicenharry · 2 months ago

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Angel (part 4)

Y/N fails her exam and has a slight miscommunication with Harry, but he takes care of her. (4k words)

warnings: angst, smut, 18+, squirting (sorry i got carried away), fingering.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Y/N woke up with a sour feeling in her stomach. She'd been on edge since the weekend, dreading today because her psychology exam results were coming out, and she knew she hadn't done well.

She remembered how exam week had lined up with her period, the dull ache in her head making it nearly impossible to focus or prepare like she wanted.

Harry had been there atterward, pulling her close, covering her in kisses, and telling her how proud he was and how she'd done her best. In those moments, she'd felt a bit lighter, as if the weight had lifted. But now, as she thought about the results again, that same heavy pit began to settle in her stomach.

Y/N's day was off to a terrible start.

Nothing had gone right since morning.

She'd nearly slipped in the bathroom while brushing her teeth, burned her breakfast because she was so lost in anxious thoughts, and then, on the way to university, a creepy guy wouldn't stop staring at her. All she wanted was to hide away in Harry's room, wrapped up in his arms, safe on the couch.

She wished she could call Harry and ask him to be with her, but she knew he was busy preparing for his own exams. He had a calculus test in a few days and was buried in studying. She was thankful she hadn't chosen calculus this semester—she'd probably flunk it for sure. But Harry was such a nerd, so smart and hardworking, she knew he'd get through it easily. The image of Harry buried in his book, glasses perched on his nose, brought a smile to her face. He was just too cute.

Y/N sits in the library, her laptop open in front of her. She nervously chews her nails, contemplating her recent life decisions. Closing her eyes, she whispers, “It’s okay,” and clicks to view her grade, silently praying for a passing mark.

She failed.

A big, fat D stares back at her from the screen. Her eyes go glossy as she struggles to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over. Embarrassed, she glances around, hoping no one saw her screen. The thought of telling Harry makes her stomach twist—Harry, who always believed in her, his favorite girl. Part of her wants to call him, to feel his comforting embrace, to hear him tell her it will be okay. But another part worries that he might be disappointed, maybe even embarrassed. Harry always calls her smart and brilliant, but how would he react to this? Would he laugh? Would he be ashamed?

No, she tells herself, he would never do that. He loves her; he always takes care of her. Her grade wouldn’t matter to him—she can always retake the test, after all. Taking a deep breath, she decides. She should definitely call Harry.

Harry doesn’t pick up. Y/N tries calling him three times, but each call goes unanswered. She texts him, but the messages remain unseen. Frustration and exhaustion settle in, and she decides she can’t stay at the university any longer. Packing her laptop, pouch, and books into her bag, her stomach growls, reminding her that she skipped breakfast after burning it earlier. She decides to stop by the campus café on her way home.

But as she approaches the café, she sees him—Harry. Her Harry, leaning against the wall, deep in conversation with Emma. The same Emma who never missed an opportunity to get close to him. And worst of all, they’re laughing together. Harry says something that makes Emma throw her head back in laughter, standing far too close to him. Y/N stares from a distance, her eyes stinging with unshed tears and a headache starting to build.

Harry and Y/N have been dating for a while now—ten months, and she trusts him completely. She knows how much he loves her and that he’d never cheat. But her chest aches at the thought that he might’ve ignored her calls just because he was busy with Emma. Y/N feels so alone, so vulnerable with everything that’s gone wrong today.

When Emma places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, Y/N feels a spark of anger she rarely experiences. She’s not usually the jealous type, but today has been a disaster, and her emotions are all over the place. All she wanted was to be with her boyfriend, for him to comfort her, but he's... occupied.

Of course Harry would enjoy Emma's company, she thinks bitterly. Emma, who's so good in all her classes, probably never fails at anything. She's beautiful, with her blonde hair, perfect white teeth, and tall, slender frame that seems to match Harry's so well. Unlike YN, who feels foolish, even small, in comparison. She's never felt this insecure, this low, and right now, she just feels... dumb.

Blinking away her tears as discreetly as possible, Y/N turns and walks back to her apartment, her appetite gone.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was confused. He was finally done with his studies for the day and wrapped up to go home. He was so excited because he can finally spend the night with Y/N, whom he hadn't seen for two days. He had been so busy with his exams that they did not get time to meet each other. He missed her terribly, and now he just wanted to go to her apartment, cuddle with her, and just be in each other’s presence. She’d been the first thing on his mind all day—the person he’d wanted to see as soon as he got a break from studying.

He fumbled with his keys as he opened the apartment door, unlocking his phone to make a call, but his eyes widened when he saw that Y/N had called him three times in the afternoon. “Shit,” he whispered, mentally cursing himself for silencing his phone. He dialed her number back, but the calls went unanswered. He tried texting her, but there was no reply.

Sighing, he slouched on the couch. His muscles were sore and achy because of sitting in front of his laptop all day. That made him think of Y/N’s touch—the way her hands would move over his shoulders, soothing every ache, her voice soft and calming. The thought only made him miss her more. His hair was all messed up and tousled, eyes red and sunken behind his glasses, and a face with exhaustion written all over.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to have a proper meal all day. He was so buried in his books that he forgot to eat. But that did not matter. Now he just wanted to be with her, to talk with her, to breather her, and to share a meal with her.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N was a mess. She had been crying for the past two hours and couldn't understand why her tears wouldn't stop. Her face was all blotchy and red. Her eyes swollen with tears, and she declined Harry’s call yet again. He’d been calling nonstop and even texted, asking if he could come over. But she didn’t want him to see her like this—all blotchy with snot covering her face. Y/N knew she was being immature, but her feelings were hurt, and she just wanted to let out everything that had been bottled up since the morning.

Cuddled on her couch with a blanket wrapped around her as she stares at his contact yet again. She couldn’t help it. Finally, she texted him not to come over, saying she was busy. Harry would just assume she is busy with her assignments. She tried to come up with some other excuse, but she knows if she had told him that she was not well, he would rush over to see her.

God, Y/N couldn’t help but feel pathetic.

She knew she should just call him and, for the truth, talk to him and clear the air, but right now she just wanted to be alone... with no one around but her broken heart.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

Harry visits Y/N the next morning, His night went by tossing and turning, unable to get a wink of sleep, so upset after her text message. There was a sour feeling in his chest, one where he couldn't quite put a finger on. He knew Y/N well, and she never acted like this. Even when she was in an unpleasent mood, she never refused to hang out. This was the first time she had ever done something like this, and he couldn’t help but worry. Weird thoughts started creeping up his mind. But he pushed them aside and made his way over to Y/N’s apartment. He wanted to know what’s wrong and if she is okay.

Harry rang the bell twice, but there was no response. Concern tugged at him, so he tried opening the door, and thankfully it was unlocked. Slipping inside, he made his way through the quiet apartment towards her bedroom. When he reached her room, he paused in the doorway, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of her sleeping peacefully. A frown took over his face when he looked closely at her puffy eyes and red cheeks. Wondering if Y/N had been crying. He couldn’t help but advance his steps towards her bed and carefully sat beside her. His fingers traced her features: the stray strand of hair, the fallen strand of her delicate nose, and her pouty lips. She looked like an angel, his beautiful angel.

Y/N stirred in her sleep, opening her eyes, which was somewhat an effort because of how late she had been to bed after exhausting herself. Blinking up in surprise, she sees Harry,

Harry, who was sitting beside her and his fingers playing with a strand of her hair.

“Harry… What are you doing here?” Her voice barely above a whisper. Y/N sits up, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, pulling her blanket closer around her. Seeing his face clearly after two whole days, worry written all over.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you." He said softly, “You wouldn’t answer my calls last night. And I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He murmurs, but his face fell when she looked away quickly, avoiding his eyes.

“I am fine,” she mutters sharply, looking down at her lap. Harry frowns at her response.

“You don’t look fine, love. What’s going on? Did I do something?”

She takes a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears that are threatening to pour any second. She hated herself for not being able to control her emotions during such times. She looks down at her lap, trying her hardest to avoid his gaze.

“You didn’t answer my calls either, Harry. I needed you. Yesterday was... hard for me. And you..” She pauses, taking a breath. “You were with Emma.”

Harry’s brows knitted in confusion. Then realization dawned on him. His expression softened, and he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Y/N, no. My phone was on silent because I was studying, and I didn’t see your calls until later. I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. And Emma..” Harry shakes his head and takes a deep breath before saying, “Baby, she is dating Alex. She just wanted to know, ask me a few things to plan his birthday party, since I’m his close friend.”

"Oh,” whispers Y/N, more to herself as realization dawned upon her. Her fingers nervously pick at her cuticles. She’d been so stupid, so dumb, to jump to conclusions.

“You’re not stupid.” Harry says softly, as if he can read her thoughts. He knows her tendency to blame herself for even the smallest things.

“I just.. I failed my psychology exam, Harry.” She admits, her voice breaking as she sniffles. “I felt like everything was falling apart, and you weren’t there. I didn’t know what to think.” Her cheeks were red with tears.

Without hesitation, Harry pulls her into his arms, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. She buries her face in his neck. His clean, masculine scent gives her comfort as she clings to him and straddles his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.

“I am sorry, Y/N." He murmurs, “I should’ve been there for you, but failing that exam doesn’t change anything about how smart you are. You’re going to get through this. And I’m going to help you however I can. I’m here, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Hearing him say these words instantly brings relief to her, her mind instantly relaxing, easing some tension from her body. The weight of failure soon dissipates. She clings to him tightly. How could she ever think Harry would be ashamed or embarrassed of her?

He is right—she will get through this; failing an exam doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. It was just a stupid test.

After a while, she pulls back, feeling much better. “I just felt so alone. I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

Harry gently lifts her chin and presses a soft kiss on her forehead. “And I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn't reach me. I love you, Y/N. The last thing I want is for you to go through something like that by yourself.”

Her lips curl into a smile. Her heart is still racing at the sound of his ‘I love you’, even though he says it to her so often. “I'm sorry too... for jumping to conclusions.” She whispers back.

Harry smiles, his thumb brushing away a tear. “C’mon, no more tears, okay? Let’s get cleaned up, and we’ll have breakfast together.” He suddenly stands up, with Y/N in his arms, making their way to the washroom. Y/N laughs at his antics.

He sets her down on the counter, handing her toothbrush with toothpaste already on it. She takes it and starts brushing her teeth, keeping him caged between her legs.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

After she was done brushing her teeth, they peeled off each other’s clothes while stumbling into the shower eager. The hot water cascaded over them. Harry applied shampoo to Y/N’s hair, his fingers massaging her scalp gently. She tipped her head back in relaxation, letting her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the sensation. His touch felt like heaven. He felt like home; it all felt so natural. She loved these domestic moments—showering together, cooking for each other, sleeping in each other’s arms—like they were meant to be.

As Harry rinsed the shampoo from her hair, his hand drifted to her shoulders, rubbing soothing patterns into her tight muscles. He was tracing every curve of her neck. Y/N shivered under his touch. Harry hated seeing his baby stressed, exhausted, and drained. He wished he could take all her worries away.

His hand then moved to her front, cupping her breast in his soapy palm, squeezing and pinching her nipples. Y/N let out a soft gasp, resting her head on his shoulder now, her eyes fluttering shut. How had a sweet, comforting moment turned into something heated? but she didn’t mind. Not when it had been so long since they’d touched each other like this. They hadn’t had the chance to initiate anything with each other in a while because of their busy schedules. So naturally, Y/N was very aroused by his simple touch.

Harry began planting slow, deliberate kisses along her bare, wet shoulder while his fingers continued to caress her breasts. He could feel the tension in her body and how she was clinging to him like he was her lifeline. “Feels good, yeah?” he murmured huskily, his voice thick with desire. She nodded feverishly, unable to form any words.

As Harry stood behind her, she could feel him, his hard length pressed against the curve of her ass. The feeling sent a thrill through her. Unable to resist, she pushed back, grinding against him slowly, teasingly. Harry’s breath hitched. She felt a sharp inhale against her ear.

A smirk tugged at her lips; she knew what she was doing. But she did not expect a sharp sting of his palm on her ass. The slap was lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. She gasped at the contact.

"Behave,” he murmured in her ear, his voice low with arousal, nipping at her ear lightly. Her pussyclenching around nothing, she could barely hold back any longer. She was so wet, drenched with desire, her wetness coating her thighs. She wanted him to touch her pussy, make her cum—

In the next moment, Harry turned her around and pressed her against the wall. She gasped at the cool contact with the tiles. He captured her mouth with a heated kiss, sucking her bottom lip. His lips moving hungrily against hers. Her mind was spinning. It took her a few moments to process. Her body arching as she let out a soft, needy moan.

Harry groaned in response. The kiss was messy and passionate, as if they were trying to make up for the lost time. Harry began trailing kisses down her throat and sucking a sensitive spot below her ear. He needed her to know this—how much he’d miss her. He dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth. Y/N gasped as the heat of his mouth came into contact with her cold nipple; he started sucking gently while his other hand played with her other breast.

“Harry, it feels so good,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Her eyes closed, her hand tugging at Harry’s hair.

Harry looked up at her, his gaze dark with desire and lust. Seeing her so needy, so desperate for him, he loved her like this. He wanted to take care of her with pleasure and satisfy her needs. Without any worry, Harry dropped down to his knees. He hooked one of her legs onto his shoulder, his fingers slipping between her legs and playing with her wet slit. He looked up, meeting her eyes as he brushed his thumb on her clit.

“Fuck, you’re dripping, baby,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with need.

Y/N’s breath hitched, fingers tightening in his hair, as in the next moment he dipped his head and licked a long path from her opening to her clit. “A-aah, yes,” Y/N breathed out. Her moans became more loud as he began sucking her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. His both hands gripping her waist tightly, He smirked at her response. Y/N tightened her grip on his hair and began grinding against his face. Harry groaned in response, the vibrations making her legs shake.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his lips glistening and his eyes dark with lust as he muttered, “I need to have this sweet pussy for breakfast every day." With a smirk, he dove back in, devouring her like she was his last meal.

The filthy, dirty words made her feel gooey inside, a warmth spreading from her chest to her core. She’d never understand where Harry got his filthy mouth from, but it always stirred something deep within her, making her brain all mushy and puddled, like she could barely think straight. It made her want to do everything that he said, every sinful thing he whispers in her ear, with that husky and deep voice of his.

Finally, the deep bubble of pleasure in her belly burst. Her vision hazy, her head tipped back as the loud moan escaped her lips. Just at the right moment, Harry thrust two fingers inside, curling them up. It sent her over the edge. Her back arched as she moaned breathlessly. Harry groaned into her as he felt her walls clenched around his fingers. Y/N squirted, her pussy fluttering, as she tried catching her breath. Harry, whose face was now wet with her release, was lapping up every drop of her arousal like a starved man.

Y/N never thought she could squirt; never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined Harry making her squirt, but it felt so euphoric. She was so sensitive, shivering at every flick of his tongue. When she managed to look down, her breath hitched. Harry was still on his knees, his face wet, eyes closed, lost in devouring her. But what caught her eye was the way his own cum dripped down his abs—the evidence of his own release. He had cum without even being touched, just by eating her out. The sight made her clench around nothing.

Harry looked up at her, following her gaze. It took a second to realize what she was staring at. He glanced down at his abs; his face flushed an even deeper shade of red in embarrassment.

Y/N quickly pulled Harry on his feet, his cheeks red, lips glistening with her arousal, and eyes dark and hypnotizing. Y/N leaned forward and captured his mouth with hers. Pouring every emotion she couldn’t quite put into the words. She could taste herself on his lips. They both pulled away, resting their foreheads together, trying to catch their breath.

Harry laughed breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess, I got a bit carried away, huh?”

Y/N’s gaze softened as a smile curled on her lips. “Seems like you had a good time down there.” She teased, her fingers tracing circles on his abs.

Harry chuckles as he pecks her nose. “You have no idea.” He admits.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

After they both actually showered and cleaned each other up, tired and exhausted. The hot water relaxing them, Y/N leaned on her toes and began applying shampoo to his head. She loved that he smelled like berries now. Harry wrapped her in a towel and then dressed her in his shirt—the one he’d wore that morning. It reached her thighs, and it smelled like him. It felt like home.

While he himself walked around shirtless, just in his gray trousers that slung low around his hips. Not that Y/N minded; she loved the view.

Harry made his way to the kitchen, quickly preparing a breakfast for her. He scrambled some eggs and poured a fresh glass of orange juice. They both had their meal while being in each other’s arms, tugging at the corner of the couch. His arms wrapped around her tightly.

This morning felt like heaven. Y/N decided she wanted every morning to start like this, filled with sweet words, kisses, and gentle touches, without the crying part, of course.

She felt Harry behind her, bringing her back to reality. “I’m going to tutor you for your psychology rest, baby. We’ll go over everything, and you’re going to do great; I just know it,”

He murmurs, reassuring while pressing a chaste kiss on her cheeks as she felt all the worry leaving her body. His confidence in her made all the worry drain from her body. She knew she would pass the next exam, with him being on her side.

#harry styles imagine #harry fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles book #harry styles drabble #angel #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #i hope you like it <3 #<333 #my au

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restinslices · 11 months ago

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Everything

PJO Show Ares x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 2459

Summary: Ares supposedly hates kids, so it’s really strange that he comes when you call. (Do not let the summary fool you, this is not fluff. Based on a dream I had a couple days ago. Warning for possible ooc Ares and brief mentions of abuse. Blink and you’ll miss it type shit)

“I don't wanna say”, Grover fingers fidgeted with each other as he purposefully avoided eye contact with you.

“We're friends, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then you have to tell me! You spoke to my father, I gotta know what he said! What was he like? I bet he was really cool! Man, I wish I could've been there and talked to him”, you looked down at your shoes and added more misery to your face than was necessary. It was extremely childish and petty but Grover kept refusing to tell you what your father Ares was like. You had to know though. You doubted he brought you up, but you still wanted to know what he said and what he was like when he was just out and about. Grover had the opportunity to have a long talk with him and that was something you'd kill and suffer for.

“I doubt you'd wanna do that” he mumbled, but you heard him.

“Why'd you say that?” You asked.

Grover refused to expound on what he meant… at first.

Everyone knew Grover couldn't hold water so it didn't take too much prodding before he spilled his guts.

The memory replayed in your head more than you'd like to admit, and if it were up to you, you'd no longer be a half blood.

It made you feel pathetic. Tons of gods- no. All the gods were shitty parents. After all, they had children with mortals and left the children on Earth, knowing they'd be hunted down. Plenty of half bloods died in a gruesome painful way and at a young age. Plenty of gods never claimed their children, even if they made it to Camp Half Blood. But Ares did claim you, so you assumed that that meant he cared for you in some way. He even gifted you with a double sided sword. Surely, he must've loved you.

You were foolish and you hated how foolish you were. You should've known he didn't care. He left you here with mortals and watched as your home life got worse and worse which was due to multiple factors including a piss poor mother and step family, the aura children of Ares give off that makes people around them experience rage and of course the random monster attacks that your family blamed you for. It was as if they thought you begged Ares to be his child. As if you'd ever do something as stupid as that.

The rain soaked through your hood, making your hair all wet and gross. You were an idiot. You tried coming home for the school year, thinking maybe your family changed. They said they did. They tended to lie a lot though. You got into a huge fight and stormed out and you were in such a hurry that you completely forgot to grab your pouch full of drachmas and you didn't wanna step another foot in that house. So now here you were, outside with freezing cold hands that couldn't be warmed because your hoodie was soaking and you couldn't call Chiron. Perfect.

You checked your pockets once again, hoping to find something other than the lighter and fruit roll up that was there but alas, nothing magically appeared. You held the two objects in your hand and an idea formed in your mind.

You could always set the fruit roll up on fire as an offering. You could pray to your father and hope he hears you and sends you something to help.

No. That's incredibly stupid. Could you even light a fruit roll up on fire? It didn't matter. Not only was that the stupidest offering ever but you refused to pray to him. You'd rather sleep out in the rain then sneak inside when your family was gone to get your shit.

You put the two objects in your pocket and let your head rest on your knees, exhaustion hitting. It wasn't even physical exhaustion. It was all mental and emotional. Like a leech was sucking on you constantly. Or a vampire. You'd prefer that. At least you'd die quicker.

The hum of a motorcycle filled your ears, getting closer and closer. Best case scenario, it was a neighbor. Worst case scenario, it was a murderer. Honestly, you'd welcome both.

The hum stopped and a familiar voice made you look up, “rough night”.

It was him. Ares. God of war. Father to who knew how many. It was someone you definitely did not want to see… or so you thought. Part of you absolutely despised him now and everything to do with him and wanted to rip him apart. The other part of you though still felt an immense amount of joy when you saw him and you wanted to cling to him like a child clings to its favorite toy. If you were alone, you would've screamed.

Then a thought crossed your mind. You didn't burn anything. You didn't make an offering.

“You were going to” he said, seeming to read your mind.

“Why are you here?” you managed to get out after some time of just staring at him.

“Why do you think I'm here?” he asked and you could tell by his tone he meant it sarcastically. Like “the reason is so obvious. Stop being stupid”.

Something about that sarcastic and irritated tone made you think back to what Grover told you.

“Why don't you like me?” You asked and you hadn't meant to. It was supposed to stay in your head.

He squinted his eyes at you and looked you up and down, “what?”.

You could've let it go. You could've said nevermind, thanked him and let him help. You couldn't though. You didn't know when you'd have this chance again (the camp visited them but damn, there was a lot of you) and if you did something to make him not like you, you wanted to fix it. But that wasn't your job, right? Parents are supposed to care for their kids.

You did that a lot. Your mind juggled opposite thoughts and it drove you insane. This was just the latest bit of juggling you'd been doing.

“Grover said he spoke to you-”

“Who is Grover?”

“Percy's friend. The satyr”. A look of anger flashed in his eyes. You knew he remembered Percy. You didn't give him time to start yelling about the 12 year old that beat him in a fight. “Grover said that he spoke to you. I asked what it was like and he said that you said that you hate kids. Even your own. And when we visit, it's the worst day of the year. So, I was just wondering why you don't like me. Is it something I've done?”.

Ares just rolled his eyes and sighed, “you're taking that personal?”.

“It's kinda hard not to”.

“I came to take you back to camp, not talk about whatever crisis you're having right now”.

You didn't know if you were angry because of what he said, or because of his effect on others. Either way, blood started rushing to your head. “I'm not asking for a lot. I'm asking for an answer. A simple answer. Why don't you like me?”

“I don't like any of my kids”

“And that makes it better?” You asked in disbelief. Ares just stared at you, emotion void on his face.

“Why do you do this? You keep having kids even though you hate them. Why?”.

“It's not that simple and I don't have to explain anything to you”. You wished he'd show emotion. Any sliver of it. He was too calm, too numb. You'd prefer him yelling at you but nothing seemed to phase him. He was talking to you the same way you'd talk to a toddler.

“It is incredibly simple. Just stop having sex with mortals. You already have Aphrodite -who is a married woman but whatever-” you rushed the last part. You didn't particularly care for the affairs between the gods. “How could your eyes possibly wander?”.

Seeing him show a sliver of anger when you mentioned Aphrodite only filled you with more rage. That’s what angered him? That’s what got emotion out of him? “Really? That's what gets you? What about me being drenched?”

“You chose to come out here” he said through gritted teeth. If you knew Aphrodite was the key to him showing any piece of human emotion, you would've brought her up earlier.

“I didn't choose this!” Your voice rose, “I didn't choose to be abandoned by my father and be stuck with a dysfunctional family for the rest of my life. You should be angry at that, not me mentioning Aphrodite. You should be enraged at the thought of anyone putting their hands on me and your hands should be covered in their blood! That is how it should be”.

“Believe it or not the gods aren't too keen on the idea of killing mortals”

“But turning them into various objects and ruining their lives when it's a boring Tuesday is ok?”. His face went back to being blank and emotionless and your plan to stop talking was scrapped. You weren't even sure what you wanted. You wanted him to show something besides anger. Sadness? Regret maybe? Just something to show that maybe, just maybe, he cared deep down and regretted leaving you.

“None of us asked for this. You all just decide to create and leave us. And you hating the people you created is… I don't know. And it's so stupid that I've spent years of my life trying to get you to be proud of me, only for it to be impossible!”.

“I claimed you didn't I?” he defended himself, but you scoffed.

“That's the bare minimum dad! That's like saying your kids should be grateful because you feed them!” You were full on screaming by now and you wouldn't have been surprised if a neighbor came out to see what the fuss was about. “I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you. You probably hate being called 'dad’ and you don't care. You're never gonna get it”

“I try everyday to make you see me and you do everything in your power to not see me. To not see any of us. I would work myself to death for you. I would betray anyone close to me for you. If you asked me to burn down the world for you, I would. If you asked me to extinguish the sun, I'd find a way to because to me… to me you were everything. You are everything”.

You couldn't tell if your face was wet from the rain, or from tears of sorrow and anger. It could've been both. Your eyes certainly stung and you hated it. You knew you had every right to be frustrated, but you hated how weak it made you feel. The children of Ares weren't supposed to cry. They were supposed to be headstrong and fight their enemies. They were supposed to be fierce warriors capable of bringing armies down to their knees. They were meant to shed blood, not tears.

You thought for a second you saw an emotion cross his face. You couldn't pinpoint it though. It happened too fast and there was a good chance you were imagining things.

“You can go. I'd rather sleep in the rain. I wouldn't wanna be even more of a burden” you spat with such venom you didn't know it was possible. Sure, you could have a bit of a temper but this felt different. It wasn't just anger or annoyance. There was a mix of grieving.

It went silent for awhile, and the adrenaline you felt slowly went down. Reality started to sink in. You just yelled at a god. People who were known to cause destruction for something as small as “I think my shoes are better than yours”.

“Are you gonna curse me? Or, I don't know, strangle me with my own shoe laces?”. Ares reached into his pocket and you looked away and closed your eyes. You expected to feel a burning sensation. That's what you assumed being cursed was like. A burning sensation and then you'd lose a limb or something.

All you felt was something land on your lap. You looked down and saw a red pouch with gold string keeping it closed. You looked up at him, but he didn't say anything. You untied the string and opened the pouch and inside laid a pile of drachmas.

Now he spoke, “call Chiron or whoever else works at that camp. Don't die out here”.

“You're leaving?” You asked. You didn't know why you were disappointed. You should've been happy. After all, you just went off on him about how shit he was.

“I have a busy schedule”. You wanted to ask if he'd be seeing the married woman he slept with or another unfortunate mortal, but you figured you pushed your luck enough today.

“Thanks uhh…” you debated on calling him dad but instead you called him by his name. “Ares”. Then you remembered some gods could be particularly upset when you used their name. “God of war and all those other honorifics”.

“Yeah” was all he said before he sped off, leaving you alone once again. You didn't know what he was saying “yeah” to but you didn't have enough time to ask and he probably wouldn't even answer.

You called Chiron and asked to be brought back to camp but you didn't tell him about the conversation you had with Ares.

You couldn't get the conversation out of your head, even after you showered and laid down to finally get some rest.

Of course you kept thinking about the conversation and how lucky you were Ares didn't throw you into the street and run you over.

Another thing stayed on your mind though.

You didn't give an offering. You were told the gods would listen if you burned something that mattered, like the thickest piece of meat on your plate. You weren't sure they were actually listening and honestly you thought it was a real asshole condition.

All you had was some stupid candy and you didn't even burn that and the minute you thought about it, he appeared like he was already watching.

But you doubted he was watching. You doubted he listened to your prayers at all.

You were one of his children which was something he hated. He'd claim you, possibly send a gift then be done with you. He didn't listen to you anymore. He didn't watch over you anymore.

It was a coincidence. That's all it was.

You were sure of it.

At least, you tried to be.

This is definitely ooc Ares but YA’LL KNOW I’M A LITTLE FUCKING SLOW! BE PATIENT WITH ME GOTDAMMIT😭 If you saw any errors, no you did not. I already proofread it once and I don’t feel like doing it again like I typically do. It’s 1am. I should be asleep.

#percy jackson #percy series #percy jackson ares #pjo tv show #ares pjo #pjo series #pjo angst #percy jackson angst #ares x child #ares x reader #ares angst #idk what else to tag #ares would’ve probably drove off but LISTEN-

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halcome · 1 month ago

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Gary "@

Grian's snail from Wild Life, smaller than Snumbo

Will climb your fridge without permission

Absolute menace and I love em

Made this lil guy whenever I had a second from homework. Went on a little shopping spree to get more snail fabric and magnets after Snumbo, my wallet has not been the same since.

Gary's a lil lighter tone than Snumbo cause of that though. Saw a fabric that matched Grian's skin more and I ended up buying a bunch of it.

Putting in magnets was a new experience, sewed some into the shell and the belly. I saw methods of fabric glue, tiny pouches, or patching it in, but I think I enjoyed darning it for this. Mainly cause fleece is so thick you can sew in one side only, if ya wanted to.

Don't know if I'll make more snails, 2 sizes is enough, but if I ever feel like it then making more accessories sounds like fun.

Also I am glad to say, Gary was not made with double sided tape! (Used some for pictures so the shawl scarf thing defied gravity... Im sure its fiiiine)

#life series #wild life #traffic smp #grian #mumbo jumbo #wild life snails #snail plush #snumbo #gary

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

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here we go again with my bullshit about coparenting megumi with satoru

most days, megumi and tsumiki are with distant relatives on tsumiki's mom's side. however, during what satoru affectionately calls "fun weekends" or fweekends when neither of you are sent on a mission and tsumiki is hanging out with her friends, you call whoever megumi is staying with to tell him to get his backpack ready for an adventure. and, at 9:00am sharp on friday, you sign megumi out of school early and meet satoru at the zoo.

you hand megumi one of those applesauce pouches to eat with one hand while his other firmly grips your pinky as you approach satoru at the front entrance. he's opted for sunglasses instead of the blindfold today and is unironically wearing a fanny pack slung around his chest. he gives you a peck on the cheek and whispers you look so pretty today in your ear before grabbing megumi and hoisting him on top of his shoulders, marching into the zoo.

and that's where megs stays for the majority of the day, stationed on top of satoru's towering body to get a better look over the crowds. his hands find fistfuls of snowy white hair but satoru doesn't mind at all; with megumi on his shoulders, satoru's hand finds a permanent place in yours and the other hovers next to megumi's waist in case he loses his balance. when he does let go of your hand, it's to hold megumi's legs in place as he jogs around the surrounding area making racecar noises.

you make megumi wear a bucket hat to protect his face from the sun and satoru takes him to the bathroom every time you pass one, which he reluctantly obliges. satoru also gives him a very extensive lesson on the importance of sunscreen while you're in the bathroom and they're looking at the flamingoes.

despite his indifferent disposition, megumi finds the zoo fascinating. his eyes give his emotions away, and your heart feels lighter as you see them twinkle with intrigue and widen with surprise as you navigate the exhibits. quietly, he asks satoru to take him closer to the wolf exhibit because it matches the stuffed animal you got him when you first introduced yourself. you stay there for a while until satoru tries to make them howl, in which case you drag both of them out of there. megumi also points at the polar bears and sarcastically asks satoru if he's related to them because of their fur color. his little hand reaches up to touch the flowers blooming in the trees of the aviary and he freezes up when a multi-colored bird lands on his head. you take a picture, megumi with a bird on his head and satoru glancing up at him, and make it your lockscreen. during lunch, you get another funny photo of megs and satoru having matching ice cream mustaches after you get soft-serve for dessert. satoru beams at the camera while megumi's tongue tries in vain to lick the ice cream off his nose.

before you leave to have dinner, you let megumi pick out a souvenir from the gift shop and he gets another wolf stuffed animal to be friends with the one you gave him. satoru buys you and him one of those magnetic best friends bracelets except the two halves make a bird resembling the one that landed on megumi in the aviary.

megumi hangs on to the wolf stuffie during dinner and snuggles it closer as he yawns in the car. when you tuck him into his room at jujutsu tech for bed, he asks when he can have another adventure with you and satoru.

#jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles

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mxtxfanatic · 2 months ago

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"If He Catches Me..." a Meta on Lan Wangji's Unconditional Support Pt. 1

Despite the heavy rumors about the supposedly terrible relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in the former's first life, Wei Wuxian's resurrection opens up a side to Lan Wanji that he'd never gotten to experience. From the moment Lan Wangji realizes that "Mo Xuanyu" is actually a newly-revived Wei Wuxian, he has lent the other man unconditional support.

This support covers things as small and easy to provide as money, protection from dogs, someone to lean on, and an offer to carry Wei Wuxian when multiple injuries on his legs makes it difficult for him to walk:

“Do you have money?” Lan Wangji said. “If I don’t have any, you’ll give me some.” As Wei Wuxian spoke, he stuck his hand into Lan Wangji’s robes. He hadn’t expected to find anything, but after groping around for a bit, he pulled out an exquisite, and heavy, money pouch. The pouch didn’t seem at all like something Lan Wangji would carry on his person, but these past several days, Lan Wangji had done more than one or two things that Wei Wuxian had thought unimaginable. Nonchalantly, Wei Wuxian took off carrying the item. Sure enough, Lan Wangji allowed him to grab it and leave without uttering a single discontented word.

—Chapt. 20: Sunshine II, fanyiyi

However, when the dog turned its head and saw that he was carrying Jin Ling on his back, it leapt off its feet and flew towards him. Wei Wuxian let out a miserable cry. Just as he was on the verge of hurling Jin Ling off and away from him, Lan Wangji stepped before him and blocked the dog’s approach.

—Chapt. 23: Malice I, fanyiyi

Wei Wuxian had only managed to retreat a single step when his ankle rolled beneath him and he seemed in danger of falling to his knees. Lan Wangji’s expression changed. He rushed toward Wei Wuxian and clutched his wrist in the same iron grip he had exhibited at Dafan Mountain.

...

“You should not walk,” Lan Wangji said. “If I don’t walk, are you going to carry me on your back?” “...” Lan Wangji regarded him silently. Wei Wuxian’s smile froze on his face, and an ominous shadow swept over him. If the person in front of Wei Wuxian had been the Lan Zhan of years past, these words would have definitely made him choke, and he would have either thrown Wei Wuxian a frosty glare and promptly departed, or completely ignored him. But exchange him for the Lan Wangji of today, and it was very difficult to say how he’d respond. Indeed, upon hearing Wei Wuxian’s question, Lan Wangji moved in front of him and genuinely appeared as though he were about to stoop, bend his knees and pick him up, like a noble submitting and serving a commoner. ... The pair was deadlocked for a few moments, when suddenly, Lan Wangji’s arm wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s waist, he lowered himself slightly, and his free hand came for Wei Wuxian’s knees. The latter was shorter than Lan Wangji, as well as lighter, and as soon as the taller man grabbed hold of him, he was easily lifted up. His entire person was now in mid-air, supported by a pair of sturdy arms.

—Chapt. 25: Malice III, fanyiyi

But the support also comes in the form of physically defending Wei Wuxian from foes, being so dependable that Wei Wuxian has no fear turning his back on a fight.

Moments later, the corner of Jiang Cheng’s mouth pulled upward into a twisted smile. His left hand began unconsciously caressing his ring again. “...Good, good. You’ve returned?” He released the ring. A long whip hung down from his hand. The whip was extremely thin, and true to its name, consisted of a bright, crackling violet current, which looked as though it had been stolen from some thundercloud covered horizon. He gripped one end firmly in his hand. When he brandished it, lightning struck, fast, nimble, and chaotic! Before Wei Wuxian could even move, Lan Wangji’s guqin was already in its owner’s steady and sure hand. He plucked a single string, and like a stone dropped in water stirs a thousand ripples, the sound of the guqin reverberated through the air in countless waves. The note and Zidian struck each other; the former waxed and the latter waned.

—Chapt. 10: Pride V, fanyiyi

Sure enough, his cultivation level is high, Wei Wuxian thought. A moment later, he shouted, “Hanguang Jun, the gravedigger is here!” Lan Wangji needed no reminder. He knew something had happened immediately upon hearing the noise. He didn’t reply, and let the swift, savage swing of his sword answer in his stead.

—Chapt. 34: Flora II, fanyiyi

Wei Wuxian had finally run into someone more shameless than him. Smiling in turn, he said, “It’s better to offend an honorable person than a hooligan—that means you. I won’t fight with you any longer. Someone else will take my place.” Xue Yang’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Who? That Hanguang Jun? I sent three hundred walking corpses to surround him. He—“ Before he could finish, a set of white robes descended from the sky, and Bichen’s icy, clear blue light flew directly at him.

—Chapt. 37: Flora V, fanyiyi

Before he even finished talking, dozens of sword glares shot toward Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi blocked off all of the attacks. Bichen threw some people to the side to make out an unobstructed path for them.

—Chapt. 50: Guile, exr

Suddenly, Wei WuXian felt someone approach. Turning around, he saw Jin Ling stand behind them, limbs frozen. Lan WangJi immediately stood in front of Wei WuXian, while Lan SiZhui stood in front of Lan WangJi, speaking carefully, “Young Master Jin.”

—Chapt. 68: Tenderness, exr

Nor will Lan Wanji ever put his reputation above standing by his beloved's side and lending support:

Lan WangJi, though, was different from him. He wouldn’t even have to explain, and people would explain for him, such as how HanGuang-Jun had been deceived by the YiLing Patriarch. Wei WuXian, “HanGuang-Jun, you don’t have to follow me!” Lan WangJi looked straight in front of him, saying nothing in reply. The two left behind them a crowd of cultivators shouting to kill. Amid the chaos, Wei WuXian spoke again, “You really want to go with me? Think carefully. After you walk out this door, your reputation will be destroyed!” The two had already dashed down the steps of Koi Tower. Lan WangJi grabbed his wrist, as though he was about to speak.

—Chapt. 50: Guile, exr

Lan QiRen stood before the crowd. He seemed much older. Strands of white even began to grow at his temples. He called, “WangJi.” Lan WangJi’s answered in a low voice, “Uncle.” But he still didn’t stand to his side. Lan QiRen understood more than anyone. This was Lan WangJi’s answer, firm, resolute. With a disappointed expression, he shook his head. He didn’t try to persuade him any further. A woman in white robes stood forward, her eyes filled with tears, “HanGuang-Jun, just what is wrong with you? You... You are not you anymore. In the past, you clearly could not even stand the YiLing Patriarch. Just what technique did Wei WuXian use to bewitch you for you to stand on the side opposite to us?” Lan WangJi didn’t pay attention to her. Having not received a reply, the woman could only add in pity, “If so, then how undeserving of your name!”

—Chapt. 68: Tenderness, exr

Suddenly, Wei WuXian said, “HanGuang-Jun!” Lan WangJi turned to him. Wei WuXian breathed heavily continued, “There’s something I want to do.” Others’ gazes drew towards him as well. Wei WuXian, “Are you with me?” Lan WangJi looked at him with steady eyes. His words held the weight of finality, crisp like mallets on iron, “I am.” A smile blossomed on Wei WuXian’s face. He striped off his black robes. Underneath his black robes were a layer of white ones already half drenched in red, but they interfered little with the patterns he now drew as he wiped on them with a blood-caked palm. As the patterns he drew on them become clearer and clearer, astonishment crept into everyone’s eyes while they watched, as if looking at a monster. ... When he finished, he was no longer wearing white robes, but a painted flag. A flag that would lure all the dark creatures and evil beings miles beyond onto one single person, a Spirit-Attracting Flag!

—Chapt. 81: Core Part 3, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Jiang Cheng glared at the smaller, fishing boat with a silent, icy rage. He glanced Wen Ning once. Just as his eyes were about to settle on Wei WuXian, Lan WangJi unconsciously took a step and shielded Wei WuXian from Jiang Cheng’s gaze.

—Chapt. 84: Core Part 6, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

All of this culminates in a tender moment where Wei Wuxian is able to make new memories to replace the bittersweet ones from his childhood.

Suddenly, Wei WuXian was overcome by a strange yet powerful urge. He wanted to fall down, just like that time many years ago. A voice in his heart said, ‘If he catches me, then I will’...... At the thought of the words ‘I will’, Wei WuXian let go. At the sight of him falling without a hint of a warning, Lan WangJi’s eyes widened. Instinctively, his body moved and the next moment Wei WuXian was in his arms, or, more correctly, in his embrace. Though Lan WangJi had a long and slim built and the air of a scholar, his strength was not to be underestimated. Not only was his upper body strength exceptional, his lower body stability was also quite impressive. Still, a full grown man had just fallen out of a tree, so even Lan WangJi staggered a little from the force of catching Wei WuXian. It only took him a moment to adjust his footing before he’d straightened up again though. Just as he was about to let Wei WuXian down, he realized that Wei WuXian’s arms were tight around his neck. He couldn’t let him down even if he tried.

—Chapt. 87: Core Part 9, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Because of this unconditional support, Wei Wuxian can travel through the rest of his life knowing that he will always have someone in his corner, someone willing and able to stand by his side as well as catch him if he falls. Such is wangxian's unwavering love.

Pt. 2

#xiantober #mdzs #human metas mxtx #happy bday wwx from your husband 🩵

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heavenlyraindrops · 1 month ago

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The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Seven

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag to find other chapters | warnings: cuts, mentions of blood, alcohol, brief mentions of blades, profanity, flashback (in italics), smoking, being drunk

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Seven:

The Lanes were in an uproar. Clients talked, of course, and the odd conversation with a newcomer gave you the opportunity to milk every last drop of information that had been withheld from you.

“Silco’s taking over. No one knows what to do.” The man’s shifty eyes followed a worker as they strolled past you both. You grinned and grabbed him.

“Well, sir, this is the best place to forget your troubles,” you purred, and nodded your head at the worker. Clearing your throat, you turned around to leave.

“Wait.” The client hissed. You turned, raising an eyebrow. He cleared his throat. “I’ve got friends who I owe a favour. They’re in trouble with someone, and need to lay low for a while.” The worker wrapped his hands around the man’s arm, promptly being ignored as the man took out a pouch, holding it out to you. “Money,” he said gruffly. “To let them hide here.”

You stared at the money, surprised, then narrowed your eyes. “Who exactly are they in trouble with?” Your voice had a sharp, venomous edge to it. The other boy, the worker, upon seeing your sharp expression dropped the man’s arm and scurried away.

“…Can’t say that,” he muttered, eyes downcast. You pouted.

“Oh, but I think you can.”

He looked up. A group of masked women had surrounded him. Sharp blades glinted in the honeyed, rose coloured light.

You stepped towards him slowly and dangerously. He didn’t move, not when you dragged a sharp, metal fingertip down the side of his face, or plucked the money from his trembling hand.

“Is it Silco?” Your voice was soft, apologetic. “You know I can’t make an enemy out of him.”

He didn’t say anything, and you pulled away, and nodded at the girls. One stepped forward to place a cigarette between your teeth and another held a lighter beneath the end. You took a slow drag, eyes unmoving from the man’s nervous face.

Smoke coiled into the thick air as you spoke. “Fine. But I want this-“ you weight the pouch of coins in your flat palm “-in double, and whoever boards here must be at my every disposal.”

The man looked at you, mind turning over the options. You knew he didn’t have much of a choice; he’d looked desperate the moment he set his foot in the building.

“Fine. I’ll bring them and the money tomorrow.”

You didn’t have time to reply before he raced out, pushing past the tinkling beads into the street. You took another smoke-filled breath, and blew it out. The masked girls looked at you expectantly.

“Open the windows,” you said flatly, “before I smoke the place up again.”

A hushed “yes, Madam,” before their footsteps receded down the hallway.

Back in your office, you opened the pouch.

Gold coins spilled out over the table next to the rose. You crouched, turning one over in your finger. It was legitimate. You bit down, a metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. Music played from one of the rooms further down the hall, the sounds of hushed giggles travelling across the carpet. Other than that, it was calm.

Heavy footsteps you’d recognise anywhere sounded from the entrance, and the beaded curtain swept to the side to reveal Sevika’s tall frame standing in the doorway. You looked up from your position on the floor.

“Sevika,” you said flatly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her eyes flicked to her muddied boots. “Take your shoes off.”

She did as you said, wrenching the footwear off. You smiled coyly and flicked your head at the sofa opposite your own. “Glad you decided to finally pay a visit,” you drawled, blowing smoke as you talked. She eyed the half-open pouch on the rich, dark wood table, gold spilling from it.

You noticed her staring. “Payment,” you said simply. You took a slow drag, crossing your arms as you did so. Still standing, you looked down at her.

“You here for a client.”

“Yes and no.” She knotted her fingers together. “Tell me why someone I’ve been ordered to take out just ran out of here like you’d burned him?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been staking out my place, have you?”

She scoffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not that special.”

You smiled. “But I’m definitely on the map.”

“On the map, but not on my boss’ radar, if that’s what you’re so hopeful for.”

At this your cheerful facade fell, settling into disdain. “What do you want, Sevika?”

She shrugged. “I came in here for a good fuck. Just happened to see something else along the way.”

You scoffed, leaning down and stabbing the cigarette into the ashtray with an unusual aggression, different to your usual flowy movements.

“Well, he must have been intimidated.” You flicked your head at the curtains. “Go on. You want me to find you someone myself?”

“No need.” She stood up slowly, dusting herself off. She looked down at you.

“You ever look normal?”

“Huh?”

“You know. Without all the shiny bits and flashiness.”

You sat back. “Of course I do. This,” you waved a hand down your body, “Is just for work. Being eye-catching helps.”

She snorted, then nodded, not bothering to reply as she disappeared behind the beads.

You frowned. Maybe housing someone that Silco wanted was a bad idea.

But maybe you did want the attention from him. Sooner or later, he’d have to face you. Face the fact he left you without a word, when you needed him most. You rolled a coin between your fingers thoughtfully, lounging on the velvet. Your eyes fluttered shut.

Bass made the floor thump beneath your feet as you jostled through the crowd, Vander and Felicia were conversing idly while waiting for patrons to order, and your eyes flew to the figure sitting next to them. Silco was too engrossed in his journal to notice you press yourself to his back, hands covering his eyes.

“Nose buried in a book in the middle of a bar,” you slurred, resting your chin on his shoulder. He tensed, relaxed, melted into the touch. “You’re no fun.”

He gave a low chuckle, one that you felt vibrate against your own chest as he flicked a page. Vander and Felicia side-eyed you both.

“You’re wasted,” he muttered, flicking a page. You shook your head, voice muffled by his shoulder.

“No.” Your hands had fallen to rest around his neck. “Yet.”

“No yet?” He sounded amused. You threw your head back and groaned. “You’re drunk, [name].”

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” you said, sliding off of him to flop into a barstool. You watched as he brought a spoon of soup to his mouth, eyes following his tongue which darted out to lick his lips. “Drunk as you think,” you corrected yourself, looking away. “Vander, pour me a glass.”

Vander hummed, amused, as he got up to pour you a non-alcoholic drink. Of course you didn’t know it wasn’t alcoholic, downing it in one go. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

“Why are you even writing right now anyways?” You complained. You leaned over and snapped the book shut. He frowned, opening it again, and your palm slammed down on it again. Much to his chagrin.

“Drink with me, Silky.” You pushed your glass towards him, not knowing it was non-alcoholic, and he scoffed, unable to hold on to his annoyance at the hilarity of your actions.

“Don’t call me Silky.”

“Drink with me, Silky.”

“I’m not in the mood.” He pushed your cup away, and you grabbed his hand.

“Dance with me.”

‘Silky’ sighed, frown deepening. “Janna, [name]. Stop pestering me.” His tone had either come out harsher than it was meant to be, or maybe in your drunken state you’d heard it wrong, but your face immediately fell with hurt. He didn’t notice, turning back to his journal.

“Seriously?” Your voice wobbled. He sighed, pushing a strand of his hair out of his eyes.

“Seriously,” he said firmly, not sparing you another glance. A hand went to your shoulder.

“[name], are you okay?” Felicia looked concerned. Your eyes were glassy, face turning red. Silco finally looked up.

But not in time to catch you as you fell off of your stool, hitting the floor with a harsh thud.

A few collective gasps sounded around you. You groaned, hand flying to your forehead as your skull thrummed, head pounding. “Fuckkk.” Your glass which was once in your hand had shattered, a single shard of glass digging into your skin.

Silco dropped his pen, leaning down. He was frowning again, but now out of concern, hovering and unsure what to do with the drunk mess that you were as you sat up and pressed your back to the bottom wall of the bar counter, drawing your knees to your chest.

Or when you burst into tears.

“Oh, [name]-“ he dropped to his knees, looking over you for any bruises. “Are you seriously crying? The fall was that bad?” And then he noticed your bleeding hand and grabbed your wrist. “Oh, Janna.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose. “No,” you mumbled, shoulders still shaking.

“No?” His eyes flicked up to try and catch your gaze, to no avail. “Then what is it?” He muttered, gently plucking out the small shard.

“You don’t want me around!” You wailed, then covered your face with your hands. He stared at you.

“What?”

You didn’t respond, continuing to pathetically sob. He shared a look with Vander, and hauled you up by the shoulder.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” He huffed, breath skimming across your hair as your head lolled on his shoulder. You nodded absently.

“Mmmmyeah. M’sorry I lied.” The words that came out of your mouth were nothing short of a jumbled mess as he dragged you across the bar, taking you to the back.

“It’s fine, dear,” he murmured. The door shut and he let you collapse onto a wooden crate. You blinked, vision wavering with tears, around the dusty storage unit. Glasses, crates, even old chairs. You watched as he rummaged around the shelves, items clattering, before he drew out a first aid box.

“Are we on a ship?” You mumbled as he gently took your wrist, thumb smoothing over your skin. He began to dab at the wound. You hissed in pain.

“Oh, stop moving, will you?” He complained, grabbing your wrist again and tugging it forward, back to its original place. “You big baby.” He worked in silence, listening to your sniffles. “We aren’t on a ship. We’re in the Last Drop.” His voice had softened.

“Then why is everything moving?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“Makes sense,” you said, looking up at him, wide-eyed. “I believe you.”

Something in his chest jumped a little as he cast his eyes down, continuing to clean your cut.

By the time he’d patched you up you were sliding off of the crate onto the floor. He stared at the pathetic heap of your body sprawled on the flooring and sighed, nudging you with his foot ever-so-gently.

“Get up, [name].”

“M’sleepy.”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t wanna go back out there.”

He sat down on the crate, and you looked up at him. He held his hand out. “Come here.”

You pushed yourself to the foot of the crate, laying your head on his lap. He tensed beneath you, relaxed, melted, before letting out a short exhale.

“I meant, get up, [name].”

“No,” you mumbled. His fingers played with a strand of your hair. “Not enough space for the both of us.”

“Which is why we should go outside.”

You groaned. “S’too loud out there.”

Silco was miffed. “You want me to stay holed up in this storage cupboard with you while my legs go numb? Thanks.”

You looked up at him, eyes shiny with tears again. He quickly withdrew his words.

“I’m joking. I’m sorry. You know I’d do that any day.” He thought for a moment. “What’s all this about me not wanting you around?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the enunciation suddenly clear instead of sloppy. He looked at you. “I’m such a bother. I pissed you off and messed with your journal.” You sniffled. “And now I’m forcing you to stay here with me.”

“You could just let us go outside,” he muttered under his breath, but one look at your face had him melting. “You’re not forcing me,” he said firmly. “And you didn’t annoy me.” He carded his fingers through your locks, pausing as he carefully mulled over his next words. “I’d never not want you around.”

“I just want your attention,” you hiccuped. “I’m so pathetic.”

He tensed again, not that you noticed. “You want my attention?” His heart was thrumming against his ribcage.

You exhaled, eyes only half-open. “More than anything.”

He didn’t know what to say to this, other than drag you to your feet. “You’re drunk,” he said shortly. “We’re going home.”

“Okay, Silky,” you said contentedly. With you on his arm Silco brought you back out to the front of the bar.

“I’m taking her home,” he curtly told Felicia and Vander, who both looked at him, bemused.

“I can go alone,” you protested, but not before he threw your coat around your shoulders.

“You’re drunk out of your mind. It’s not safe.” And with that he promptly led you from the bar.

You stared at him, stumbling a little as the cold air bit at your face. Grabbed his arm tighter, and nodded.

“Thanks.”

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niobiumao3 · 4 months ago

Text

Much decaling and clear coating!

First up, Tech civies torso from S2

This one is a challenge and while I like how this came out I'm going to try it on a solid black torso instead to see if I prefer it. I painted the sides to make his vest look right but that risks arm rubbing, as would a decal, so I might forgo that in a future type. We'll see. Also the pouch is a hair too dark to see the details so I need to redo it lighter.

Next, Phee Torso!

This basically came out perfect. I'm considering a little more shirt detail but that will be something to consider after other projects are done.

Finally, cadets!

I'm short a torso so I had to photo Tech and Hunter separately. Really enjoyed these little guys, even if putting on the arms is so painful for my fingers. I'm going to do older cadets too, I just need to finalize Tech and Crosshair's heads.

#star wars #the bad batch #lego star wars #lego moc #legos #lego #tbb tech #tech tbb #phee genoa #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair

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slutty-transformation-stories · 2 months ago

Text

Bimbocaine Part 2

Lydia's eyes narrowed as she studied the pouch of pink powder she had found in her friend's abandoned apartment. It was an unusual artifact amidst the clutter of forgotten textbooks and half-used makeup products. The material felt foreign to her, almost alive, as it shifted in her palm. She had brought it to the university's science lab, eager to understand the mystery it held.

Her curiosity piqued, Lydia carefully poured a small amount onto a slide. She had to admit, the color was quite lovely—like the inside of a seashell or a delicate shade of bubblegum. The fine, shimmering particles danced under the fluorescent lights as she carried the slide over to the microscope. The anticipation of discovery made her heart flutter, a sensation she hadn't felt in a long time.

Just as she was about to peer into the eyepiece, the lab door swung open, and a gaggle of her eager students spilled in. They surrounded her, bombarding her with questions about the upcoming exam and their latest projects. She held up a hand, the slide still in her other, and tried to explain that she was busy, but they were having none of it.

One particularly clumsy student named Jenna reached out to touch the pouch, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What's that, Professor?" she asked, her voice a high-pitched squeal that seemed to echo through the room.

Lydia sighed, but before she could respond, the pouch slipped from Jenna's grasp and hit the floor with a soft thud. The seal gave way, and a cloud of pink glittery smoke erupted, enveloping the entire room. The students shrieked, and Lydia's heart skipped a beat as she realized what had just happened. The smoke smelled faintly of strawberries and vanilla, a scent that seemed to tickle her nostrils and make her head swim.

As the cloud began to dissipate, she noticed something peculiar. Each of the girls, one by one, started to transform. Their breasts ballooned to impossible sizes, pushing against their shirts like overfilled water balloons. Their asses inflated, stretching their pants until the fabric looked ready to tear. Their hair grew longer, a cascade of platinum blonde waves that flowed down their backs like a river of spun silk.

Their nails grew at an alarming rate, turning into sharp talons that clicked against the lab benches as they moved. Their faces took on a bitchy perfection, their lips curling into a perpetual snarl that seemed to dare the world to mess with them. The transformation was as mesmerizing as it was disturbing, and Lydia could do nothing but watch in shocked silence.

As the pink haze cleared, she looked down at her own body and felt a strange sensation. Her own breasts began to swell, pushing against her lab coat, and she gasped as her hips widened and her waist cinched in. Her reflection in the gleaming microscope showed a woman she hardly recognized: her once-professional attire now clung to a figure that was the epitome of a bimbo's dream. She felt lighter, more... confident, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders and replaced with a newfound sense of allure.

The giggles from her students grew louder, and she realized that they were all going through the same metamorphosis. They stumbled around the room, their eyes wide with excitement and disbelief as they examined their new figures in the glass panels of the lab cabinets. Each of them was now a mirror image of the other—platinum blondes with hourglass shapes that defied logic and gravity.

The room was filled with the sound of zippers being yanked down and buttons popping off as they struggled to free themselves from their suddenly-too-small clothing. The fabric tore away, revealing skin that gleamed with a glossy sheen under the harsh lights. The pink smoke had left a faint sparkle on their bodies, making them look as if they were dusted with the finest glitter.

Their laughter grew more manic, each giggle escalating into a full-throated cackle that echoed through the lab. The air was thick with a cocktail of the strawberry-vanilla scent and the heady perfume of their newfound sexuality. It was intoxicating, and even Lydia found herself smiling as she watched the young women prance around, their movements now more seductive than she had ever seen.

With a collective decision that seemed to resonate through the air, the group of busty bimbos made their way out of the lab and towards the university's exit. The hallways were a blur of pink smoke and glittery footsteps as they sashayed down the corridor, leaving a trail of bewildered onlookers in their wake. The transformation was complete, and the need to show off their new selves was palpable. They were drawn to the mall like moths to a flame, each step carrying them closer to a place where they could truly embrace their newfound bitchiness.

Once at the mall, they descended upon the first cosmetic counter they saw. The poor salesgirls didn't stand a chance against the onslaught of glammed-up scientists. They demanded the works: smoky eyes, lush lashes, and lips painted a shade of pink that matched the powder's explosive origin. The once-studious young women now moved with the grace of seasoned models, their hips swaying as they discussed the merits of different foundations and eyeliners.

Each bimbo picked out an outfit that screamed "look at me" from the racks of a high-end boutique. The clothes were tight and revealing, leaving little to the imagination. They paraded around in their new attire, their every move calculated to attract the maximum amount of male attention. And it worked. Heads turned, jaws dropped, and whispers followed them as they strutted down the mall's gleaming corridors.

Their transformations were complete, and they reveled in the power of their newfound sexuality. They were like a pack of lionesses on the prowl, each one more stunning than the last. Lydia felt a strange kinship with these young women she had once taught, now her sisters in glamour.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they turned their sights to the club, a place that had once been a bastion of their youthful innocence. Now, it beckoned to them like a siren's call, promising a night of indulgence and debauchery. The bouncer's eyes widened as he took in the spectacle of six busty blondes dressed to kill, and with a nod of his head, they were granted entry without a second glance.

Inside, the bass thumped like a heartbeat, and strobe lights painted the walls in a chaotic dance of color. The air was thick with the scent of cologne and cheap perfume, a stark contrast to the delicate fragrance of strawberries and vanilla that lingered on their skin. The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea, all eyes drawn to their voluptuous figures and the aura of confidence that surrounded them like an invisible force field.

The club was a candy-coated wonderland of temptation, and they were the sweetest treat on display. The bartender, a young man with spiked hair and a smug smile, couldn't resist the allure of their new forms. He slipped them drinks, each one a little stronger than the last, and they giggled and flirted in return. Their laughter was like a siren song, drawing in a flock of eager men, all eager to taste the sweetness they exuded.

The first to approach was a businessman in a tailored suit, his eyes glazed over with a mix of lust and bewilderment. He stumbled over his words as he tried to charm them, his hand lingering a bit too long on Lydia's newly rounded hip. She felt a thrill at the touch, the fabric of her dress sticking to her skin as his hand slid away. The other girls were similarly accosted, each man's grip a little more daring than the last.

A beautiful blonde bimbo at the back of the club caught their attention, her outfit even more outrageous than their own. She beckoned them over with a wave of her hand, her nails glinting like diamonds in the disco lights. As they approached, Lydia noticed the name tag on her glittery top—it read "Barbie." The woman's smile was wide and welcoming, a knowing twinkle in her eyes that sent a shiver down Lydia's spine.

It was Anna, her friend from university who had once been a brooding goth with a penchant for dark poetry and a love for the macabre. The transformation was unmistakable yet unsettling. Anna's raven locks had been replaced with the same platinum waves as the rest of them, and her once solemn demeanor was now a caricature of cheerfulness.

"Welcome, my fellow bimbos," Anna purred, her voice now a breathy whisper that seemed to float on the air. "You're just in time for the main event."

Her words sent a ripple of excitement through the group. They huddled closer, eager to hear what she had to say. Anna leaned in, her massive breasts threatening to spill out of her tight dress as she whispered the details of their new lives. It seemed that the pink powder was not just a one-time transformation but a gateway to a world where beauty and brains were a potent cocktail of power.

Lydia felt a twinge of doubt, but it was quickly drowned out by the pulsing music and the electric energy of the club. The pink smoke had not only changed their appearances but also their personalities. They were no longer the shy, studious girls they once were. They had become creatures of the night, hungry for attention and validation from the men around them.

The night passed in a blur of flashing lights and groping hands. Each bimbo took turns disappearing into the crowded bathroom, returning with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. The scent of cheap cologne and sex hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sugary sweetness of the pink dust that still clung to them.

Lydia found herself in a dimly lit corner with a man who couldn't keep his hands off her new, voluptuous body. His touch was rough, but she didn't mind. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life. The feel of his calloused fingers on her skin sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. She leaned into his touch, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm of the music.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jenna, who had found a partner of her own. The young man looked like he had just won the lottery as he struggled to contain his excitement, his eyes ogling her newfound assets. Jenna giggled, her voice now a sultry purr that seemed to ooze confidence and sexuality. She leaned in close to Lydia, whispering into her ear, "Let's go, I know just the place."

The group of bimbos followed Jenna, their hips swaying in unison like a line of synchronized swimmers. The music grew louder, the lights brighter, and the men more brazen. Each girl was claimed by a different suitor, and they disappeared into the throbbing mass of bodies like droplets of water in a storm. Lydia felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation as she was led away by her chosen man.

In the cramped backseat of a sports car, Lydia's mind raced. This wasn't her usual scene—far from it. But as the man's hand found her thigh, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. His touch was firm, possessive, and she found herself leaning into it. The pink dust had transformed her into someone new, someone who didn't need to think about the consequences of her actions.

The car pulled up to a sleek, modern mansion that looked like it had been plucked from the pages of a high-fashion magazine. The party inside was already in full swing, a cacophony of laughter and bass that vibrated through the walls. The air was thick with the scent of wealth and desire, and as they stepped out of the car, the other bimbos were immediately drawn to it.

They strutted up the driveway, their heels clicking like a chorus line of dominatrixes. The door swung open, revealing a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase that beckoned them to ascend into the heart of the debauchery. They were greeted by a sea of men in suits, their eyes devouring the bimbos like hungry wolves spotting fresh prey.

The mansion was a playground of opulence, each room more decadent than the last. Red velvet couches, gleaming chandeliers, and walls lined with gold-framed mirrors reflected the pink glow of their skin. It was a place where inhibitions were left at the door, and the only currency was beauty and desire.

Lydia and her bimbo entourage were led upstairs to a suite that looked like a set from a music video. A king-sized bed, big enough to accommodate their inflated forms, sat in the center, surrounded by plush pillows and silk sheets. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket, and the air was heavy with the scent of more pink dust, hinting at the night's true intentions.

The man who had claimed her wasted no time, his hands roaming her new body with a sense of entitlement that sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. His touch was rough, his intentions clear, but she found herself craving the validation it brought. The other couples paired off around the room, the sounds of passion and pleasure rising like a symphony of lust.

The bimbos were in their element, their every move calculated to ensnare the men around them. The mansion was a fortress of sin, each room a testament to the power of their newfound sexuality. They were the queens of this domain, and the men were their willing subjects.

As the night progressed, the transformations grew more pronounced. The pink dust had not only altered their physical forms but had also imbued them with an irresistible allure that seemed to corrupt everyone they touched. The men who had brought them here were now under their spell, eager to do their bidding, to give them anything they desired.

The next morning, the bimbos woke up feeling more alive than ever. They looked at themselves in the mirrors that adorned the walls of the suite, admiring their new figures and the glint of power in their eyes. The town was their oyster, and they were the pearls inside, ready to be discovered.

#corruption #dumb thicc #phat ass white girl #dumbification #bimboification #brainwashed #mind conditioning #bimbo doll #cheating sex #cheating woman #bimbo dreams #cnc drugging

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marigold-hills · 27 days ago

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The Black Wizard (Part1)

When Remus leaves his hometown, it’s not to seek his fortune, or adventure, or – gods forbid – love. He leaves because he’s a monster, and monsters do not belong in society. They belong in the Waste.

This is how it happens:

It’s May Day. The village of Hogsmead is abuzz with excitement. Revellers and drunks, lovely dressed up ladies and dapper gentlemen circling one another, for propriety's sake staying respectable distances away. The gentlemen whistling at the ladies, the ladies pretending to be aghast by the behaviour, covertly blushing and giggling.

It’s a perfect day. Sunny, warm, bright.

For Remus, it’s perfect for a different reason.

Everyone is too busy to notice their pockets getting lighter. Too buzzed to pay attention to the man dressed in ill-fitting clothes waking too close to others. A casual jostle is just this - casual. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to raise concern.

Remus has a few pilfered wallets in a hidden pocket he sewed onto a stolen vest, along with his favourite book of poetry he never parts from. Some small valuables nobody would notice missing until it would be too late to track it to him. It’s easy, this. He’s done it for years.

“My apologies,” he smiles at a man in a soldier’s garb, whose money pouch he just appropriated. This one feels good for more than one reason - the soldier was in the process of accosting a lady who did not seem pleased to be accosted. She takes the moment he gets distracted by Remus and ducks away. Remus would like to say that he makes sure to only steal from those who deserve it, but it wouldn’t be true.

Food is food, and money is money, and both are something he needs to live. Remus can’t get a job, on account of being a monster, on account of how many days he has to take out to recuperate and travel somewhere far enough to make sure he wouldn’t let himself lose on Hogsmeade. He’s tried: he worked in a bakery right after his parents’ passing, then in a post office, a fishmonger and a greengrocer. He tried his hand at hunting game and selling it at a market, but his aim was poor and he couldn’t stomach the job. Each time he had to take sick days talk begun: simple at first, concerned. That poor Lupin boy, they would say, all alone now and so sickly. But soon the compassion ran out in favour of annoyance (“you need time off again? It’s barely been three weeks”). Followed, unfailingly, by questions.

Questions he has to steer people from if he wants to keep himself safe.

He’s tall but can make himself look unassuming, his hair once golden-auburn now streaked with grey from the effect of too many full moons. It’s perfect for this job, being easy to look over and hard to describe. He’s young but looks old. Feels old, too, but that’s not something for people to see.

Remus makes mistakes in this work so rarely that he doesn’t notice he’s made one until it’s too late.

He’s following a well-dressed man, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The man is exceptionally pretty, with short black curls barely skimming the tops of his ears and a gait like royalty. Remus follows behind him at a stretch, slow and careful, until they round the back of a seedy pub and the man turns around like he is the one who set the trap.

Green eyes like poison.

“Trailing the Wizard of the Waste, that’s brave of you,” the man says with a voice that freezes Remus midstep.

Because he knows better than that. He knows not to go for the people who are dressed overly expensive, with rich black fabrics and shining peacock plumes in their hats. He knows chances are somebody is watching over the really rich. That the possibility of a greater payoff doesn’t compare to the risk of being caught.

And yet here he is: caught.

“Or maybe simply foolish,” the Wizard says. “You don’t look a fool, but such things can be so deceiving, don’t you agree?”

The way his eyes pierce through Remus: all he can think is he knows. Somebody knows. Remus has been found out.

“You would know all about deceiving looks, wouldn’t you,” the man finishes like a purr of a cat poised to kill.

Remus turns and runs, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. Remus remembers what the townspeople did the last time someone was found out. Remembers the stench of burning flesh.

He doesn’t look back once before he flees, not even when the Wizard shouts “my regards to Sirius!”, to his retreating back.

***

The road to the Waste is long and winding. The moon was not long full, and Remus still feels the effects it had on his body. He walks slow, using a stick he found in some bushes as a makeshift cane. Takes breaks. Bundles himself up tighter against the bracing winds. Admires the views. His hometown grows smaller and smaller, falls silent at the foot of the hill, lovely little toy buildings with their twinkly lights of windows.

He wonders if he’ll miss it. Can’t make up his mind, one way or the other. He should – right? It’s all he’s ever known.

“What do you think?” He asks his cane, because there is no one else to talk to, “will anyone notice we’re gone?”

The cane, of course, doesn’t answer. Only the wind blowing past him hears his question.

At the top, the hill becomes a plateau. Flat, green, peppered with clearwater lakes. Stretches for miles, in all directions. Remus remembers, from long-ago lessons, that the Capital is due North, and that to the East is the border with a neighbouring kingdom. It’s hard to believe when as far as the eye can see the Waste stretches, neverending and full of things ready to strike.

The sun is starting to set when he spots the Castle.

It moves towards him at considerable speed, rattling along the grass and shaking like it could come apart. By some miracle, or some magic, all of its various sticky-outy parts stay precariously attached where they seem to belong.

Remus thinks well, this is just my luck because the Black Wizard lives in the Castle, and the Black Wizard eats hearts. The heart of a monster is rumoured to give great strength, indulge the power, strengthen the spirit. Remus expected dying in the Waste – he just didn’t think it would be before nightfall on the very first day.

From Remus’ hometown the Castle could sometimes be seen far off in the mountains. It looked grand and stately, mysterious in how sometimes it was low in the hills and sometimes almost completely out of sight and far away, plumes of coloured smoke raising from its chimneys colouring the sky in reds and golds.

Up close, the Castle is ugly. Makeshift. Materials that don’t fit together, made to be imposing rather than reasonable. The embodiment of style over function. There are turrets where no turrets make sense, windows with no light behind them, and the whole front of it looks like a giant open maw. A lion’s jaw.

Remus stands still. “Now we’ve done it,” he says to the cane. Casts a final look back at the town. At the setting sun. At the lake some distance away, great and shimmering as it reflects the last rays of sunlight.

The Castle stops, the entrance at his feet. The door opens.

Remus walks towards it.

***

The Black Wizard isn’t inside. There’s only an abundance of spiders and one very chatty fire.

Remus is cold. His joints ache where they were broken apart and stitched back together not five days earlier. If the Wizard set a trap for monsters, then this monster walked right into it, with no fight.

“That’s a nasty curse you’ve got on you,” the fire’s voice is like crackling kindling.

Remus sits in a chair at the hearth. Lets the heat unlock his body. “Mmm,” he says, half in response and half in bliss.

“I could help you with that, you know. There are potions. Maybe spells.”

“Could you now,” Remus isn’t convinced. The fire sounds like he would expect – fickle, volatile, unreliable.

“Sure I could,” the fire answers. “But you’d have to help me out first. We’d call it an exchange.”

“Mmm,” he’s falling asleep now. The walk was long, and the warmth is so very pleasant.

“My name is James, not that you’ve bothered to ask.”

Remus doesn’t respond. He’s already asleep.

PART 2

******

NOTES:

Hi! I’m back with another part-per-day fic. As it’s December I’ve gone with my ultimate comfort movie to make an AU from because who doesn’t like cosy ghibli vibes?

IM SO EXCITED to say this has a companion artwork by the ridiculously talented @jaioes go check it out and give them lots of love.

See you tomorrow and happy December!

@tealeavesandtrash

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

@wannabelilybriscoe

@quiethauntings

@veganbutterchicken

@euripidestrousers

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #dead gay wizards #fanfic #remus x sirius #marauders era #Fic: the black wizard #howls moving castle #howl’s moving castle #howls moving castle au #James potter #regulus black #remus lupin x sirius black

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djarinterstellar · 2 years ago

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Safe Place

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: What starts as a night off alone escalates into some trouble in town. Luckily, when you’re employed by one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, backup is never too far away.

Tags/Warnings: category is- MUTUAL PINING[!!] they just don’t know it. mostly comfort/fluff. some violence in the beginning + 1 minor injury. mentions of alcohol and spice (cannabis) use. Reader is fadeddd most of the plot lmao. Protective/Soft Din 🥰 mentions of Force-sensitive Reader. also no Grogu today, it’s past his bedtime :(

Word Count: 8.6k

a/n: not me posting this on the cusp of season 3 finally premiering 💀 also this was supposed to be shorter but honestly, this thing got so out of hand so fast, idek why it drags on for as long as it does. but i was inspired by this very stoned prompt i thought of months ago with my favorite tin can babygirl and decided to finally finish it so. here we go. ✨

ps: i’m still trying out the 3rd person pov thing so lemme know if you hate it or not. also to settle any confusion amid the new szn, this takes place between s1 and 2 :)

Translation: Sen’ika = little bird

It’s supposed to be an easy night.

Mando is on a hunt and she’s been left in charge in his absence. Normally she would’ve argued coming along and you know, making herself useful as she’d originally agreed upon. But the Crest could only land so close and the additional foot travel was too long and treacherous for the Child to follow along. Plus Red trusted her enough to leave her alone with his foundling without making off with his ship and she had no other choice but to agree.

A few days had passed now since he’d departed. He estimated he’d return in about a week, so she was in no rush in waiting for him. Mando had settled them on the outskirts of town, far enough where they could lay low in peace but still close enough for her to make any emergency supply runs in town. She was left with everything she needed to care for the kid. And with specific instructions not to leave the Crest unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is exactly what she decided to categorize this as.

The pair of double doors leading into the local cantina burst open and she stumbles back out into the streets, giggling to herself as she cradles a pair of warm cider bottles to-go in her pouch. She hadn’t planned on lingering at the bar but three drinks and a pair of shots with a group of local girls later, plans were changed. She was even invited out back to share a round of their spice joint, a generous offer she simply couldn’t refuse. She was now blissfully intoxicated and felt lighter and happier than she’d been in weeks.

The kid had finally settled in earlier and if his recent patterns served her correctly, he’d be down for the rest of the night. She was finally alone, a privilege she found extremely rare these days since joining Mando’s crew, which gave her ample time to wander into town. Was it responsible of her to leave the Crest and the kid alone? Most would argue it wasn’t, Red most of all. But he wasn’t here to say no! Plus, she had locked the ship down to keep the kid inside and protected from any potential stragglers. All goes well, she would be in and out before he woke up.

And she was confident about this because she’d already gone out just last night. Sure, she hadn’t been out this long, but again, Mando wasn’t expected anytime soon.

She liked exploring towns. It gave her a reason to not only scope out her environment, but to familiarize herself with the locals and figure out which spots in town were traveler-friendly. It was easy to wander when she was on her own, but now that she was a full-time employee, it had become somewhat of a rare treat.

It was week’s end for these particular folks, which meant most of them were out in droves tonight. She could still hear the fits of laughter and drunken serenades belting out of the cantina behind her as she walked away. The air was far cooler at night and the refreshing taste of it in her lungs gave her cloudy head the clearance it needed.

She was delightfully drunk and probably just as high, but she was conscious enough to know she needed to get back. Leaving the kid alone for a couple of hours was fine, but stretching it out any longer than that was far too much of a risk. Live music was playing somewhere from around the corner, locals dashing around her as they hopped from one cantina to another.

The energy buzzed around her like an electric current, yet she walked with a familiar ease. She felt oddly safe within the center of town. But as she drifted further into the outskirts, the street lamps dulled and the crowds thinned out. A pair of fraternal moons became her guiding light as she willed herself to remember the path back to the Crest.

And for a while, it was fine. Despite the silence, she couldn’t help but feel a bit more on edge out here alone than when she was surrounded by a bunch of drunk miners. She ignored it though, trying to tell herself it was probably the spice making her antsy. But the farther she walked, the longer her paranoia festered and itched and scratched until she realized it wasn’t the libations talking to her.

It was the Force.

She realized too late she was being followed until just before she was confronted. A Balosar male slinks out from an alleyway behind her, long and slim with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized coat. She wills herself to keep her eyes straight ahead but she could hear him glide over to her side to match her stride.

“Where ya goin’ sugar? The party’s that way!” he drawled, sending an immediate chill up her spine. Shit.

“I know where I’m going,” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to brush past him. “Have a good night.”

He reacts by slipping around her once more, this time blocking her path directly ahead. “Whoa whoa, take it easy!” His accent is thick and laced in what she can only describe as mock-innocence. “Relaax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt here!”

Her facial expressions remain unmoved, glancing up at him boredly. In reality though, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. The last thing she needed, especially right now, was unwanted attention from anybody, let alone from this total stranger. She moves to step forward but he cuts in her way, a sly grin stretching across his face.

“It’s okay baby,” Her stomach internally caved in at the pet name. “just tryna find where the cool people hang out.”

“Wouldn’t know where to point you to.” she replies flatly, straightening her back. “Excuse me.”

She attempts to move around him again, but his arm comes up to lay on the wall next to her and he leans forward to cave her in. “Where’re you from then? I’ve never seen anyone this pretty so far out here.” His free hand inches towards her face but she’s quick to turn her cheek, her jaw clenching behind her lips.

“And you never will.” she snaps back, already inching backwards.

This only prompts him to step closer, a frown crossing his slimy face. “Ey, you don’t have to be a bitch.” His tone switches almost predictably and her hand slips behind her cloak to reach for her holster.

“Back off.” she snarls him a warning with the coldest glare she can make.

He tries reclosing the gap between them again. “C’monn honey- ”

“NO.” Her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and she fully pushes her weight on him to shove him down. Her stand off is cut short though when he finds his balance and pushes back. She’s thrown back against the wall and before she can even process it, a pocket knife is jabbed against the skin of her neck.

Shadows move over his shoulder in her peripheral vision and when she follows them, 3 more Balosars creep out of the dark, hovering behind the first one in a sort of half circle around her.

It’s at this moment that she realizes 2 distinct things. Firstly, she doesn’t recognize them. In her 4 or so days since they touched down, she’d observed the villagers in her down time and gathered a very broad consensus of who was who— and in that time, she hadn't seen any Balosars in this town, which told her they were also just passing by. Secondly, she thinks as she watches the other 3 close in, she’s tangled herself in a very complicated web here. It was 4 against 1, with a notable size difference amongst all of them. She couldn’t see straight, was hilariously underprepared for a fight given the company she was currently keeping, she was fucked up and only growing more inebriated as her vices soaked into her bloodstream, and she was alone. No baby, no bar friends, no civilian witnesses.

No Mando.

Fuck.

A strangled little noise escapes her throat when the knife is pinched further into her skin and she curses herself at how whimpered it comes out.

“Fine, since you wanna do this the hard way..” the first Bathosar sneers almost mockingly, his frame towering over her own.

She’s curling into the overcast of her cloak when her fingers finally find the handle of her blaster, skin digging tightly into the cool of the metal. She looks into his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before the tension snaps.

Fuck it.

In an instant, a shot zaps out, aimed directly at his foot. He cries out when it makes contact, and she smashes her blaster across his temple when he folds over in distracted pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Despite her inebriation, she can sense the others jumping into action and she points her gun at the closest one, shooting him right in his chest before he can get any closer. She doesn’t have time to watch his body crumple to the floor as she turns to shoot at the other two, a rapid succession of plasma bolts whizzing out almost desperately. Her second target barely misses her line of fire and as she follows his trail, she fails to block the third Balosar from tackling her into the wall. She cries out as he harshly elbows her wrist to disarm her, the blaster forced out of her hand.

“Grab her!” She hears her attacker hiss from above her before she’s suddenly snatched from behind. Her arms are pinned to her sides as she’s grabbed and lifted several inches off the ground.

Her heart is pounding, blood pumping into her ears as she yells out. Her feet start kicking furiously in an instant, every functional instinct left in her telling her to fight back. “Get off me!” she shrieks, flailing until her boot finally connects with a knee. She hears him yelp behind her, his grip slipping. She jabs her elbow fully into his nose, sending them both tumbling.

Two separate voices are shouting incoherently above her in a blend of confusion and exasperation. She can see her blaster just feet away and she starts crawling, scrambling in a desperate effort to reach it, until she’s yanked backwards by her ankle.

“Pin her down.” she hears one of them growl maliciously from above.

Her stomach turns as she’s dragged back into her assailant’s grip, trails of her fingernails digging into the dirt floor. She feels her brain short-circulating in its panic so she resorts to one last defense tactic.

She starts screaming.

And it’s a shriek that’s piercing and raw and louder than she was planning it to be. But she screams anyway in hopes that anyone within the block can at least hear her, even if it’s another drunken villager on their way home.

“Shut her up!” A second voice hisses hastily, hands scrambling to smother her.

“NO- ” She bites down on the first hand that touches her face and only squeals louder, her pitch jumping another octave in her hysteria. She starts kicking again, nails scrambling in the dirt for a spare rock, a glass shard, anything physical to grab in her defense. When her palms only fill with clumps of dirt and sand, she clenches her fists around them anyway.

What started as a dreamy, whimsical high has quickly soured into a debilitating panic trip. Rather than floating in euphoric bliss, she feels tranquilized, her focus and motor skills severely hindered and overpowered by these 3 much larger adversaries. Her stomach is turning over under her ribs, waves of nausea churning with her rising panic. Her heart is pounding too fast she feels, and her lungs are tightly clenched despite how fast she’s gasping for air.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s flipped on her back, the welling tears spilling down her temples. Before she can scream again, a balled up handkerchief is forced into her mouth. Two of them meanwhile, are putting their full weight down on her to pin her limbs to the ground. The first one is limping over to them, his knife recovered in his hand while patches of fresh blood trail behind his injured foot. She audibly whimpers now, wriggling in their grasp like a drowning fish.

“You know.. I was gonna let you go after all this,” he starts, turning his blade over in his hand as if to inspect it. “But that was before I believed the rumors.” He pauses here, and the dread is only momentarily overwhelmed by her instinctive curiosity. “I mean- we all knew the bounty’s primary target was a Mandalorian with a green pet- ” Her stomach drops. “ -but there was no mention anywhere about his pretty little accomplice.”

She rustles again as he looms over her. “And I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think it was true at all. I mean, a Mandalorian with a business partner? And a girl at that!?” He almost laughs before he pivots. “But then we sees’ you in town, carryin’ this little guy around, and we think, maybe there’s some truth in all this, ya know?” Her stomach sinks even lower at the realization that they not only spotted her with the kid, but that they’d been watching her this whole time too.

Double fuck.

Suddenly, he’s kneeling in front of her, his injured foot tucked behind his knee, and she’s roughly sat up to face him by the snatch of her hair. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” She grunts helplessly when his blade is pressed deeper against her neck as the three men crowd around her. “you’re gonna point me in the direction of the gremlin, you’re gonna watch us shoot his kidnapper, and then, and only then, will I finally kill you myself.”

Her brows crease in pain as she tries to pull away from his blade, but the hand twisted in the back of her hair only pushes her into it. The handkerchief is yanked out for her to answer and his head tilts to catch her eyes. “So?” he snaps. “What’s it gonna be? Now or later?”

Her eyes harden, nostrils flaring. Honestly, right now, she just wants to tell him to fuck off. It’s not like this was her first time being mugged and/or threatened, and unfortunately not while inebriated either. But this one felt pretty damn close to getting got. Her brain is already scrambling between scattered half-assed theories on how to get her out of this.

Fw-ip !

A whizzing sound passes under her and it’s so subtle, she almost doesn’t notice it. Then there’s a pause of silence that’s almost too heavy to be coming from nothing before she notices that the first guy’s eyes have blown wide open. They make eye contact and she squints, almost confused.

Suddenly, he’s thrown back and he starts screaming before she realizes he’s being yanked into the shadows by his wounded foot. She can hear the mechanical whizzing again as he’s dragged, even over his friends’ shouting, and it takes another split second for her to realize it’s a whipcord. And just like that, the Force alerts her that she’s not alone again. But instead of dread, something else flutters in her gut.

The Balosar’s screams are cut short by a single blaster shot, and she inhales a gasp of air before a chill crawls up her spine.

Two heavy, familiar boot steps clunk in front of them as its owner steps into the dim lighting.

She exhales and pure euphoria blooms in her chest.

He’s towering over them, broad shoulders stiff and gloved hands clenched into iron fists, his armor gleaming like a beacon even in the cover of night.

She can’t stop the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Mando..-”

“Kill him!” One of the Balosars yanks her back into his chest as his friend scrambles to his feet, blaster already in hand. She squeaks and the sound seems to snap Mando into full action. She’s yanked to her feet as his arm wrangles itself around her neck.

From here though, she can see her Mandalorian in his full glory. She watches him stalking towards his prey, blaster bolts bouncing off his beskar like raindrops as the other guy empties his clip into him. And of course, when that doesn’t work, he headbutts him to stun him before striking. Despite the weight of his armor, Mando moves like a viper and is just as deadly.

She feels herself being dragged away and she grunts in protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s then she remembers one hand is still clenched. Without a second thought, she swings backwards, smacking the guy right in the face as she temporarily blinds him with a fistful of dirt.

“Agh- !” He shouts and she slips out his grip. She starts towards Mando, but then she’s grabbed by her hair and is yanked backwards with a cry. “Fuckin’ bitch- !” She hears him snarl before the back of his hand strikes her directly across her cheek.

She drops against the brick wall behind her, his body towering her, but from the corner of her eye, she spots Mando. The second guy is now motionless on the floor and his helmet is fully trained on the last one. And based on the swell of his chest and how hard he’s breathing now, she doesn’t need to gauge anything else; he just saw what he did and he’s furious.

He crosses the space between them and drags him backwards and away from her. The Balosar starts fighting back but he's quickly overpowered as he’s disarmed with an unnatural twist of his wrist. Mando spins him around and lands a punch directly into his face once, twice, thrice and then a final fourth blow before the guy falls to his knees. And it’s there that he goes for the kill, grabbing his head with both gloved hands and snapping his neck with an enraged grunt and a sickening crunch.

She watches the final body crumple to the floor with blown out eyes and her jaw fully dropped. She’s physically shaking, she realizes, and can barely breathe, let alone stand on her own. But when Mando finally turns to her, his chest rising and falling, she clings to the wall behind her to gather herself back up.

“What the hell happened??” Mando’s tone is harsh and agitated, even under his modulated panting. “You weren’t on the ship when I-”

He’s cut off when she runs straight into his arms. She all but collapses into his chest, arms coiled around his neck and her face smothered into his cowl. Before he can even process what’s happening, she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re earlyy!” She’s practically beaming up at him, one of her hands tracing the cheekbone of his helmet.

He’s speechless. First, a hug. And now she’s.. glad to see him? Not to mention how she’s smiling up at him with those big, adoring puppy-dog eyes. She’s never been this nice to him before, not even around the Child. “I- ” he hesitates before clearing his throat. “ -Yes. The target uh, took less time than I thought.”

This only makes her smile wider before she buries herself in him again. This time, her arms slip around his back, her cheek leaning into his chest plate. She could care less about how the edges of his armor were pinching into her skin, or how his fully loaded bandolier was pressed very uncomfortably into her collarbone. All that mattered to her right now, was this. “I’m so happy you’re here.” she all but whimpers, closing her eyes to savor the coolness of his beskar and the familiar scent of metal and gun smoke.

Now Mando was really stunned. But he can also feel the physical tremble in her muscles and the speed of her pulse, so he relents with a long sigh before a single arm drapes around her back. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone much softer this time.

She nods into his chest before pulling away again. “Y-Yeah I just- ” she takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale. “ -that was.. too close..”

“What happened?” He decides to ask again. “Are you hurt?” His hands quickly pat her down as if checking her for any other injuries before one of them comes up to gently cup her chin. He carefully tilts her face to get a better view of her red cheek and it doesn’t go unnoticed when she refuses to make eye contact. His helmet tilts ever so slightly. “Sen’ika..”

Her lips press together and her brows furrow as she flinches. “Well..”

“Did they kidnap you?” He asks, his other hand gesturing towards the 3 bodies behind him.

This makes her head snap back up. “No! No, they had no idea where I was staying. They were just trying to follow me back t..” she trails off the moment her brain catches up to her lips, and now that she’s face-to-face with him, she can practically feel Mando’s visor burning a hole into her forehead.

The pause between them stretches out uncomfortably before he finally speaks. “Where did you go?” His voice makes her insides squirm, like a teenager getting caught out after curfew.

“Uh..” She starts and suddenly she’s become hyper-aware of how hot her face is. She can’t remember the last time he was this close to her, and the realization of this somehow makes her self-conscious. She’s also still remarkably faded, too faded in fact to fake any semblance of sobriety. And if he’s already here, there’s really no point in lying to him, he’s way too smart for that. “..the bar.” she finally finishes meekly.

His shoulders slump as he exhales. “You got drunk?” he asks incredulously.

Her face brightens in embarrassment. “Okay, look- ” she starts and she can practically hear him groan under his helmet as he looks up to the sky. “-to be fair, I only went after the kid passed out, cause I knew he wouldn’t wake up.”

When she looks up, his helmet only tilts to the side, a silent move that only prompts her to keep going. “Ok, so there’s this pattern I’ve noticed, so when you give him a full meal and a glass of warm milk, and then you just let him play with his toys and get him to make them float around the room, after a certain time, he’ll get super tired and, like, fully sleep through the night. And I know that sounds like the most basic excuse in the book but I swear I tested this three nights in a row and it worked every time, okay so I wasn’t being totally stupid..”

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been rambling until she glances up again. He’s now leaned in closer to her, and for a moment she thinks he’s examining her cheek again. What she doesn’t realize is how carefully he’s looking into her eyes. He can tell she’s been drinking by now, and despite the trauma of the attempted assault on her just now, her eyes are still way too bloodshot to just be the liquor. Not to mention the hint of another smell on her..

She inhales sharply through her nose when she feels his gloved hands slip over her own. She gazes into his visor, as if straining to look for a pair of eyes behind it and leans in ever so slightly. She’s never been as curious to see what his expression looks like as she is right now. Her face softens as she stares up at him. “Mando..?” Her voice is just above a whisper and oh-so delicate.

She can feel his thumbs gently press into the pulse points of her wrists as he stares at her, and the surprising warmth of his touch makes butterflies flutter in her ribs. And just before she can open her mouth to call out to him again, he leans directly into her eye level.

“Are you high?” He’s audibly confused.

Her eyes turn into saucers in silent panic and it’s here that he can see her pupils are blown wide open.

“…Uhhhh…”

He sighs heavily as his head drops in defeat. It’s the only answer he needs.

“Okay,” he relents as he lets go of her. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”

He immediately stiffens once the words slip out. Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

No Din, no! This was temporary, remember?? She’d only made that abundantly clear the day she stepped foot on the Crest with a single bag and 2 datapads. It was always a mutual agreement though: she was to join him on the Crest to work full-time on tracking down a Jedi, with a deadline of at least a couple of months before he was to drop her off at a new planet of residency of her choosing. After all, she’d only just begun resettling her life and it was a path she intended to follow through on her own. Din understood this partnership was fleeting and it was unfair of him to call this ‘home’, yet for some reason, he insisted on slipping up in little moments like this again and again.

Though based on the glazed, clueless look in her eyes, she didn’t notice at all. “Okay.” she simply says, turning around to scan the alley for her belongings. As she skirts off in one direction, Din sees her blaster laying just a couple of feet away. He picks it up for her when a loud clanging catches his attention.

“Hey!” She calls out, straining to pull her bag out from under one of the bodies. Once she rolls him off with a kick of her foot, she holds up her bag and pulls out one of the sources of the noise. “Look, the cider survived!”

His helmet tilts almost disapprovingly, but he does nothing else as he holds her blaster out to her. “C’mon.” he all but huffs impatiently.

“Okay okay, sorryy- ” she slurs, stumbling over the same body as she returns and accepts her blaster. “One of these are yours ya know!” Mando is already walking away as she’s throwing her up bag over her shoulder, and she has to scramble to keep up with him, a move that makes her trip on her own two feet.

His helmet tilts over his shoulder at her. “Can you walk?” She’s not sure if it’s meant to sound demeaning or not, but it makes her puff her chest as she pouts at him.

“Of course I can walk!” she shoots back. “You’re just going too fast.” He grunts in response, helmet facing forward again and continues his pace. She’s not sure if it’s the spice but his strides feel more rushed than usual. His shoulders are also still fully straight, she notices and something tugs in her chest as she tries getting a sense of what his body language is telling her. She’s only a step or two behind him, and her eyes wander to the floor in front of her, the words spilling out before she can stop herself. “..are you mad at me?”

She almost sounds like a child, remorseful and heavy with guilt and she already hates how it comes out. But what punches harder is his response. Or his lack of it. Because he simply keeps walking at the same pace, fully ignoring her. No grunt, no hum, not even a sigh. And for some reason, this makes her ache. She stumbles over her own feet again and almost instantly she can feel tears threatening to well under the skin of her cheeks. She wants to curse herself for getting emotional, but it has to be liquor making her moods swing so drastically, she tells herself. Not that this thought doesn’t stop her from speaking again.

“I’m fired aren’t I- ”

Before she can blink, she runs face-first into a wall of beskar as he stops abruptly. She can’t help but yelp as she clutches her now-throbbing nose and when she looks back up, he’s turning to face her again. He stares at her until the silence frays at her nerves, and just when she can feel her face burning up to her ears, she hears a soft exhale from his modulator.

“C’mon,” his voice is soft as his right arm slightly pokes out towards her. “I can hear you tripping around from up here.”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Are you makin’ fun of me?” she asks.

“Does it sound like I am?”

Her eyes narrow this time. “Mayybe.” she coos. But she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and is silently delighted when he tucks her against his side. She finds it much easier to match his walk now and she can’t help the jump in her pulse as she’s pressed closer to him. In fact, she has to bite her lip to stop the silly grin threatening to spread across her cheeks. They walk in comfortable silence for a while before her spinning brain comes up with another enquiry.

“Mando?”

“Hm?” His response is barely registered under his modulator.

“How’d you find me?”

For a moment, Din doesn’t answer. And it’s not for the lack of one either. He’s just not sure where to begin. Does he start when he first re-entered the Crest to find the kid safe and sound but with her nowhere in sight? Or when he went back outside in hopes that she was on the roof stargazing or fiddling with the ship. Or when he started speed-walking through the nearby alleys because now he really couldn’t find her and just before his panic could bubble over, a single sound just yards away made his heart stop before he jump-started into a full sprint for her.

“I heard you scream.” he eventually replies and it almost sounds like his teeth are pressed together under that helmet.

She smiles at that. My hero. She almost wants to swoon until he speaks up again.

“I’ve warned you about being alone Sen’ika,” His tone is still soft, but firmer this time. She flinches and tucks her face down from him, nodding once.

“I know, I- ” her head swirls at the pang of shame but she swallows the urge to say anything other than what was necessary here. “I’m sorry.”

Another pause of silence. She decides to focus on their footsteps instead. There was something about the synchronized crunch of gravel under their boots that just satisfied every single sense in her. And it isn’t until she looks up and gets a full glimpse of the night sky that she realizes the spice is still very much in her system, unnatural neon lights and shapes bouncing across the stars. She stares in drunken awe up at them for a little too long and when she sees the Crest finally back in eyesight, she practically deflates in relief.

“Hey,” Then, Mando gently slides his arm out of their loop, leather ghosting down the length of her arm until he cups his palm over her fisted hand. “What matters to me most is that you’re safe,” he says softly. His visor turns to her, and he slowly opens her hand to slide his own into her palm. His gloved thumb gently squeezes her knuckles in what she can only gather as reassurance. “Okay?” His tone is so warm, it’s almost tender.

It catches her so far off guard, she’s pretty sure she short-circuited and is only still breathing on emergency autopilot. Her cheeks flush up and her eyes are blown wide open in the same sweet doe-like expression he adores so much, that he can’t help but smile behind the safety of his helmet. She blinks and she almost resets, clearing her throat as she looks straight ahead. She’s still blushing as she smiles and nods once. “Okay.” she replies sweetly.

Even his gloves are impenetrable, thick and almost twice as large in size. But she can still feel a warmth radiating from the other side against her skin. Suddenly feeling brave, she shifts, slipping through his gloves and slowly linking their fingers together. Mando stiffens at first, until her nails sink into the shape of his knuckles, and he internally melts. Before he can process his own reaction, he squeezes back, his thumb gently stroking over her own.

She looks up again, grinning from ear to ear. Clouds are dancing in her vision, stars swelling and shrinking in size across the painted skies. She dares herself to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead thankfully, only semi-lit under the glow of the moons, but his beskar has never been more radiant. The same colors in her eyes bounce off the high points of his armor, illuminating him in an almost ethereal glow. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering. He’s perfectly shaped from every angle. He stands tall and proud, and walks with an effortless swagger so few could replicate. His mere presence can shift the focus of an entire room. He’s daunting and striking and is the picture of discipline and strength. Yet he cradles her hand in his like she’s made of glass. She’s never seen anything past the chiseled cut of his helmet, yet he’s never looked more beautiful in her eyes right now. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she is right now; with stars in her eyes and the softest, most affectionate little smile spreading from cheek to flushed cheek.

“You’re so pretty~” she slurs out in the sweetest tone. From behind his beskar, Din’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You’re drunker than I thought.” He doesn’t skip a beat though, somehow keeping his tone flat and neutral.

“It’s still truee,” she shoots back, leaning against his side with a wide grin. “It’s always been true!”

He glances at her wordlessly and she smiles back at herself through his visor. He’s not sure what to say to that, if anything, he’s too flustered to think of a rebuttal. He’s never been called pretty by anyone, even as a joke. Eventually he clears his throat and looks away and she only grins wider. Did she just leave him speechless? She can’t help but try to read his body language for any hints.

BONK.

Unfortunately she’s so distracted by the dancing Mudhorn on his pauldron that she fully trips on the descending base of the Crest’s ramp. The only thing that stops her from falling on her face is Mando’s sudden grip on her elbow. His visor slowly turns to her again. And she knows he’s frowning this time. He yanks her back to her feet and they finally ascend to the deck. She sighs happily once she stumbles into the safety of the Crest.

As Mando closes and locks up the gangway behind them, a late thought suddenly strikes her. She turns to him with panicked eyes. “The kid!?”

“Shh-!” He quickly hushes her with a gloved pointer over her lips. She stares into her own flushed reflection as her voice echoes into the cockpit above. She’s hyper-aware of just how loud she’s being now that she’s no longer outside. Along with the scent of sunkissed leather directly under her nose. She doesn’t move until his finger slowly pivots to her right and when she follows his direction, she spots his hover pod, sealed up and safe and sound, just as she’d left him.

She sighs softly and her shoulders slump in relief. Mando leans in pointedly. “You’re lucky you were right.” he whispers into her hair. “He didn’t flinch when I got home.”

As goosebumps sprout up the back of her neck, he pulls away and crosses the room to the ladder. “I’m gonna lock us down. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Just before he climbs, he turns back to her. “Bedtime, Sen’ika. Now.” It's a gentle, but final warning.

She nods wordlessly and he leaves her in the middle of the room, dizzy and flustered. Her ears are also ringing now that she’s swallowed in silence. Eventually, she slowly pads into her designated corner. Her hammock is tucked away in the pocket of an empty storage closet, a thin makeshift curtain the only barrier between her ‘room’ and the deck. The walls hum around her and she realizes the heat has been turned back on, thankfully. She’s too drunk to fully wash up but she’s got enough energy to rip off her tight, itchy outdoor clothes and boots. She grabs the closest pajama-adjacent shirt and lounge pants she can find and wriggles them on.

She opens her hammock and finally allows herself to lay down, eyes turned to the dim ceiling.

How would it have felt if she’d laid her head on his shoulder?

No.

Would he have pushed her away? Or allowed her to stay?

Her brain’s focus shifts to the vision of his arms. His hands. His sweet, soothing voice.

I mean, he let her hold his hand, didn’t he? And hug him. Surely she could’ve gotten away with a little shoulder lean.

Gods, no.

Is he soft under all that armor? Does he run hot or does the beskar keep him cool? Is there a human face behind that m-

No! Stop it!

She physically shakes her head to break her train of thought. This was dangerous terrain. Just because you’re drunk doesn't mean you should be humoring these silly curiosities of yours! Her eyes squeeze shut and as she tries to take a deep breath, she realizes her heart is racing.

This is ridiculous.

Okay, so what if she has a crush on her employer?? It's not exactly a new phenomenon, and it certainly wasn’t the first boss she’d ever fallen for either. What was insane was what she liked about him. Because for the very first time, she couldn’t put a face to it. Instead, it was in his voice. His strength. His unwavering faith in his Creed, in the Way. He was loyal, honorable and resourceful. Stubborn as a Bantha, but quick to strike like lightning. He was also kind and selfless. He had the patience of a saint for the Child and innocent locals and despite his daunting appearance, he never hesitated to help out others, even if it meant pushing back on their schedule. There were actually various reasons why she liked him, and she couldn’t even put a name to a single one of them.

Not that any of it mattered. Because not a word of this would be uttered to anyone, let alone to him. Not to mention that this was a temporary gig, it’s not like she’d be around much longer anyway. The last thing she needed was to complicate this job for herself with her unprofessional schoolgirl behavior.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shifts her focus to the only other thing clouding her judgment. Her head is still spinning but the heaviness behind her eyes makes it easy to keep them closed. She also focuses on slowing her breath, allowing her limbs to fully sink into the cradle of her hammock. A few minutes melt away and just as she finally feels herself beginning to drift..

“Pin her down.”

She physically jolts awake as the image of her ex-attackers kneeling over her flashes behind her eyelids. Her heart jumps to her throat as that same awful wave of nausea courses through her. Okay so clearly she wasn’t over what happened just yet. Her stomach turns again though this time for far more terrifying reasons.

She leaps to her feet before she can stop herself. She’s not sure what she wants just yet, but she knows whose presence she needs. She whips her curtain aside and almost jumps out of her skin when she sees Mando already standing at her doorway. “G-Geez- !”

He doesn’t flinch. He’s also holding a metal cup that he offers to her when she looks at it. “Drink this before you fall asleep,” he simply says.

“What is it?” she accepts it anyway, peering inside before taking a test sip.

“Just water,” Mando pauses and inwardly smiles when she gags at the aftertaste. “and powdered electrolytes to cut your hangover time in half. You'll thank yourself in the morning for it.”

“Mm, awesome!” she flashes him a pained grin and he almost chuckles. She’s so adorable like this, it’s almost painful.

He lingers for just a moment longer before he nods once. “Sweet dreams.” He starts walking away until a single hand on his arm makes him stop in his tracks. His helmet shoots towards her expectantly and when her eyes meet his visor, her voice suddenly clamps in her throat. She catches the almost-panicked expression in her reflection’s eyes and looks away. She almost starts apologizing, but he turns towards her instead, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I- ” Her face feels warm again despite her growing anxiety and she feels betrayed by the flush burning across her cheeks. She huffs and looks down at her feet. “Never mind, it’s n- ”

“Sen’ika,” He doesn’t even have to say anything else. His helmet ducks to try and catch her eye. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle and reassuring that she has no choice but to succumb.

Fuck it, right?

“C… can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice is so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Her hand gently squeezes his sleeve, teeth catching on her bottom lip. “I don’t.. wanna be alone tonight..” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie.

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from the cockpit. In fact, she can’t even hear him breathing. Fuck. Did she fuck it up? Is he weirded out? Is she fired? Again?? Fuck! Take it back!

She has no idea just how startled Din really is though. She can’t hear his heart doing somersaults in his chest or how almost-terrified he looks behind the visor. But then she looks up at him with those frantic angel eyes for just a moment, he knows that despite whatever’s asked of him, how could he ever deny his little bird?

She opens her mouth and he perks up. ”Okay,” he says. It’s just as soft as she asked and almost nervous. He nods to follow up and clears his throat. “Of course.”

Her eyes round and she blinks back at him, almost dumbfounded. Holy shit, it worked? “Yeah?”

He nods again. “Yeah,” he replies lightly before his helmet jerks in the direction of his bunk. “C’mon.”

He crosses the room to his bunk to open the hatch. The kid’s pod is hovering peacefully right by the door where either of them can reach him if they have to. She follows him wordlessly where he steps aside for her. “Pick your spot, I’ll be right back.” he tells her.

Ironically, she was no stranger to his bed. He’d offered his room to her plenty of times before she carved out a spare corner for herself to give him his privacy back. She never imagined she’d actually be sharing it with him for once. She downed the last of her water and put the cup aside before she stepped into the bunk. She decided to slide into the corner facing the wall to give him as much space as possible.

Mando’s only gone for a few minutes, but in her panicked, overthinking state, it feels like ages. She finds comfort in his sheets. After getting so used to this space then moving out for a stretch of time, they felt familiar and almost welcoming to come back to. She acknowledged this was mostly due to their scent, the warm, woodsy musk that she recognized as what was likely the scent of his skin. She nuzzles into his blankets, inhales and sighs into them.

Then his boot steps echo back into earshot. She rolls onto her back and props up on her elbows, watching his shadowed figure fiddling outside. After a particularly heavy sigh, he clicks a light off and steps inside. For a second, he almost looks like a shadow sliding along the walls. It’s then she realizes he’s not wearing his beskar. He's stripped down to his full flight suit, boots, gloves and of course, his trademark helmet. There’s still not a shred of skin in sight but this still gives her a full view of his own figure. She’s dumbstruck at just how broad he truly is even without his armor. Then, it dawns on her that he took off his beskar to make room for her and something flutters under her ribs.

He looks at her and she scoots into the wall. His gloves clench and unclench in a subtle twitch as he slides into the space next to her. It’s a tight squeeze, laying shoulder to shoulder, but it’s a fit that would’ve probably been unbearable with the few inches of additional armor on. She crosses her arms, making herself smaller and fitting around the bigger gaps between them.

They both sigh and for a moment, it’s quiet. Her heart’s weirdly racing and she’s not sure what to say. Or if anything should be said at all. He shifts next to her, and her first thought is that he’s warm, even under his dense flight suit. He sighs again, and it sounds spent. She wonders if his eyes are closed behind that helmet.

Her head cranes towards him. “Long day?”

A short huff cracks through his modulator. “Something like that.” He’s smiling behind that response.

She grins back and looks up at the dark ceiling again. Colors are still swirling in her eyes if she squints long enough, but they're fading, she notes. There’s another short pause before this time, he breaks. “If.. this is too uncomf- ”

“It’s not.” she cuts in sweetly, still smiling to herself. Despite the angle, he’s warm and sturdy and she’d never felt more secure sandwiched between a man and his metal walls. She gently nudges his side. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”

He huffs again and nudges back. “Any time.” he replies.

She giggles and pauses, words pricking at the tip of her tongue. She’s feeling brave again and in her growing drowsiness, she decides to throw caution to the wind one last time. “Mando?”

“Mm?”

She inhales and shifts, her chin gently pressing into his shoulder. “Can I be honest about somethin’?”

His helmet shifts to her expectantly before pointing his chin at her. A silent approval to keep going. “I’ve been surrounded by armies my whole life. For as long as I can remember. Rebels, mercenaries, outcasts. You name it, I’ve met ‘em,” She peers up at his visor, ensuring she’s making eye contact. “And I’ve never felt safer with any of ‘em than I have with you.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but she swears she hears his breath seize under the helmet. Once again, his chest blooms and swells and something warm settles in his stomach. He smiles inwardly and before he can stop himself, a gloved hand comes up between them, leather knuckles stroking along the shape of her cheek.

She leans into it for just a moment and then she breaks through, ducking under his arm to curl herself up into his side. She rolls onto her own side, an arm draped across his chest and her head resting below his collarbone. Surprisingly, he not only allows her position shift, but he wraps his arm around her and even pulls her into him. “I made a promise to you,” he says. His hand settles between her shoulder blades, his thumb tracing a single circle into her back. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe from harm. I intend to keep that promise as long as it takes.”

With her ear pressed into his shirt, she realizes that his pulse is racing against her. He also smells nice, like a combination of gunsmoke, the outdoors and the linen of his sheets. It’s woodsy and crisp, but it’s warm and homey and so intoxicatingly comforting.

She wants to say it.

She could get away with saying it if she played it right. But she's too drowsy and delirious and exhausted to keep thinking. He’s draping his blankets over them, tucking her into the ultimate heat source and she wants to soak in it. There’s a cool press against her hair and she realizes that his helmet is leaning into her. “Is this okay?” he whispers to her.

She nuzzles into his shirt and sighs contentedly. Sleep is pulling her into its depths faster than she anticipated but she has enough energy to sweetly mumble, “No. It’s better than okay.”

He exhales through his nose from above her and his hand gently rubs her back. “Get some sleep, mesh’la,” he purrs. “I’m here.”

She doesn’t know what that one means. She makes a mental note to ask tomorrow. Right now, she picks her head up to press a single kiss into his collarbone before plopping back down. “G’night Mando..”

His heart rate picks up again. He pulls her up closer so her head is nestled into the crook of his neck. This allows her to wrap both arms around him. His helmet tilts down and she swears she feels his eyes on her. “Good night.”

She closes her eyes and smiles, allowing herself to sink into his warmth and scent for the first and probably only time. Her words were never truer than in this moment; never had she felt safer than in this tiny bunk, wrapped in her Mandalorian’s blankets. She falls asleep shortly afterwards, her breaths evening out and her heartbeat slowing into a tranquil pace. This time, her mind takes her to more pleasant dreamscapes.

She can’t detect Mando at all, listening to her pulse as she sleeps. She doesn’t feel how long it takes before his gloves slip off in the dim lights and two arms fully wrap around her. She can’t sense his warm palms holding her against him, one across her back, the other coming up to smooth and brush her hair. And she’s long gone by the time he makes the conscious choice to give his helmet a break, telling himself he needs the air and it’ll be back on long before she wakes up tomorrow.

Somewhere in her subconscious, thoughts flash across her eyes; images of the Child, his laugh, his bright brown eyes, and his infectious joy. Repeated images of Mando, his visor, his cape, his arms. His sheets. His voice. His leathered touch. Their hands linked under a coat of stars.

She swears she feels a pair of ghostly lips brush against her forehead, if only for a moment, but she never quite figures out where they came from. Not that it matters. Because for now, this is enough. Even if it is only temporary.

* * *

a/n: stream season 3 only on disney + <3

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