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desertfangs · 12 days

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Grocery Store - Marius/Daniel - Slice of Life - 1340 words

Just a little slice of life ficlet written for the @vamptember prompt "Grocery Store." I love imagining the immortals in stores and shops, IDK why but it's always fun to picture so I couldn't resist.

Full text beneath the cut.

The air was electric with the impending storm and it made Daniel’s hair stand on end. Marius hurried him along the sidewalk, wanting to get home before the downpour.

They made it two more blocks before thunder cracked overhead and the sky opened. Rain pelted down in great sheets, raindrops slamming into the pavement with such force that they bounced back up and soaked the legs of his jeans. Daniel spotted the bright lights of the supermarket across the street and pulled Marius toward it.

They rushed inside, the automatic doors dinging as they closed behind them. Daniel’s sweatshirt dripped water on the floor. Marius watched the rain through the glass, squeezing the wetness out of his long hair. He glanced at Daniel. “Are you all right?”

Daniel bit back a sarcastic retort about how he was not the Wicked Witch of the West who could be melted with water. “A little wet but I think I’ll survive.”

“I was sure we’d make it home before it started,” Marius said, clearly annoyed that he’d misjudged the timing.

Daniel shrugged. “It’s the weather. Not even our Norse friend Thorne can hold back the thunder.”

Marius smiled faintly and then sighed. “I guess we can remain here for a bit, see if it stops.”

Daniel noticed one of the cashiers watching them. The store was open for several hours yet but it was pretty empty. He grabbed a hand basket and urged Marius deeper into the store. They could at least pretend they were doing more than riding out the rain.

They meandered through the produce section. Daniel picked up a pineapple. He could just barely remember how it had tasted: sweet, tart, acidic. “Did you ever get to try one of these?”

Marius shook his head.

“Shame.” He set the pineapple down. Sometimes the things some of the older vampires had never gotten to experience astounded him: tomatoes, chocolate, Spaghetti-Os in a can. Things he’d always taken for granted. In another five hundred years, who knew what new wonders Daniel would find strange or incomprehensible, or simply never get to taste?

Marius wandered in front of an endcap stacked with soft drinks. As he stood there in front of cans of Pepsi and Dr. Pepper, Daniel was struck suddenly by how out of place Marius looked here inside a garishly lit supermarket. Even in the modern clothes he wore tonight—khakis and a red polo shirt—he had an air of timelessness that made him stand out, exacerbated by the pallor of his marble skin.

Of course, any mortal who noticed something off would chalk it up to their imagination, but he looked so otherworldly that it made Daniel’s pulse race. He was beautifully inhuman. Daniel surreptitiously snapped a photo with his iPhone.

Marius turned, smiling indulgently, and Daniel felt his cheeks flush a little, sure Marius had heard his thoughts.

They moved on to the bakery section. There, they studied the display case of cakes, decorated with bright colored frostings and little sugar flowers.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Daniel pointed to a cake with beautiful orchids in shades of pink and orange made out of icing.

“It is a fascinating use of colored sugar,” Marius said.

Daniel started to say something about the artistic merit of cake decoration but decided against it. He wasn’t in the mood to get roped into another debate about what constituted art.

He headed down the next aisle and found himself in front of an array of canned vegetables with glossy, colorful labels. Daniel lifted a can of peas from the shelf as Marius came up silently beside him.

“Armand used to love the canned food aisle,” Daniel said, remembering the first time he’d taken him to a grocery store. Armand had spent an hour lifting cans, reading the labels, and questioning Daniel about the contents. They’d bought a cart full of stuff, so much that they’d had to take a taxi back to their apartment, where Armand diligently opened every single can and dumped the contents out onto styrofoam plates to study it.

Daniel laughed at the memory, even as the ache of missing his maker wormed through him.

“New York is not that far,” Marius said softly.

Daniel sighed. He thought about that a lot, but he wasn’t ready. The stilted phone calls he and Armand shared were awkward and strange and Daniel didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. The thought of being in the same room as him again was overwhelming. He placed the can of peas back on the shelf.

“We can’t even get a mile back to our place,” Daniel quipped.

Marius smiled at the bad joke but Daniel caught something in his eyes, a sadness or a longing perhaps. It was gone before he could be sure, replaced with something more playful. “Is that a challenge?”

“You know I enjoy challenging you, but that was merely an observation,” Daniel said, purposely bumping Marius’ shoulder as he moved down the aisle. “Come on, Old Man, I’ll blow your mind.”

He heard Marius laugh softly as he turned the corner to the next aisle. When Marius reached him, Daniel gestured to the shelves full of colorful cereal boxes with cartoon mascots and big, colorful fonts.

“Behold, the modern breakfast of champions,” Daniel said.

Amusement crinkled the skin around Marius’ eyes. “I know what cereal is, Daniel. I do watch television occasionally.”

“But did you ever imagine such a thing when you were young, mortal, and hungry in the morning?”

“Did I ever envision an illustrated tiger trying to sell me a box of sweetened grain? No, I can’t say that I did.”

Daniel sighed. “Sometimes I think about how much has changed in the few decades since I was mortal and then I try to imagine how different everything will be in another hundred years, let alone a thousand.”

“Does that worry you?” Marius asked.

Daniel shook his head. “I want to see how the world changes, what advancements are made, what new technologies and inventions appear. It’s part of why I wanted this.”

“But…” Marius pressed.

Daniel shrugged. “I guess I didn’t expect things to change so fast.”

Marius laughed, loud and boisterous, his voice ringing through the aisle. He put his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “The longer you live, the faster things seem to change. The more you will step out of the house and realize the world is not the one you knew a century or even a decade before.”

Daniel stared at the glossy cereal boxes that now had metallic shiny letters decorating them. He couldn’t even remember what Frosted Flakes tasted like. “How do you handle it?”

Marius considered. “A passion for the world and the people in it, I suppose. A desire to discover what will happen next.”

“And that keeps you going?” Daniel asked.

Marius was silent for a long moment. “I endure because I must.”

“For yourself or for everyone else?”

Marius ruffled Daniel’s hair affectionately. “Always asking pointed questions.”

“You like that about me,” Daniel said wryly.

“Indeed I do.” Marius was silent for a long moment. “I believe surrounding ourselves with others is how we remain connected to the world and keep our desire to exist in it. Mortals and their art and creativity and philosophy and new wonders.” Marius’ arm slid down and around Daniel’s waist, tightening around him. “And there’s our own kind, of course. Never discount the power of connection to others who also endure.”

Daniel leaned against him, Marius’ body solid and powerful like it was made of his stone, his arm around Daniel like a marble vice, keeping him close and safe.

“I think that’s the key,” Daniel said. “Connection to our kind.”

“You’ve always been wise beyond your years.” Marius kissed the top of Daniel’s head and led him out of the aisle, back to the front of the store.

The rain had abated, becoming only a light drizzle. Daniel replaced his empty hand basket in the holder and they walked out into the damp night, arm in arm.

#marius de romanus #daniel molloy #marius/daniel #vc fanfic #vc fic #vamptember #my fic #vc #tvc #the vampire chronicles #pre-prince lestat era i guess #vampire chronicles #daniel/marius

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ricardian-werewolf · 5 months

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Grishaverse rant: First Army.

(Dominik the Bold in a field dress uniform and Sobachka in... an enlistment's uniform? Bubby, you're a major, what's up, Lapushka?) Sometimes, now that I'm part of the Grishaverse fandom, I wish I was old enough to have been around when It first started. it's all great, but it's So big, sometimes I feel like I'm screaming into a void. Plus, since Leigh Bardugo is so big as an author, I can't just send her an ask anymore about the size of Ravka's armies, which has been a particularly meddlesome problem with regards to my fanfic I've been writing. With history being my major backbone to any work, I always love to situate my works in a period, and annoyingly, Ravka would work for Napoleonic Era Russia, which means I can haul out my giant Oxford History of Russia (on pdf), and go to work. But, the line of reality and fiction blurs, and as someone who's a very linear and realistic thinker... it's difficult. Especially with the Nikolai duology and the sudden leap from 1800 to... 1940ish with the usage of rockets which should more closely resemble V1/V2s then what I assumed - IBCMs.

“In the distance, I saw Os Alta, the Dream City, its spires white and jagged against the cloudless sky. But between us and the capital, arrayed in perfect military formation, stood row after row of armed men. Hundreds of soldiers of the First Army, maybe a thousand—infantry, cavalry, officers, and grunts. Sunlight glittered off the hilts of their swords, and their backs bristled with rifles.”

(hmmm). LB, where's the artillery?! Also why does no one in this book series wear helmets when going into combat?? Basically, I feel like LB should have put more energy into the makeup of First and Second Army. As a historian in training, where are the calvary beyond this one mention, where's the heavy and light artillery? She says regiments? Give me corps, give me battalions! where are the battle-honors, the Colors of regiments? I know First Army is stretched thin and they fight for the king, but I want regimental colors! I want Nikolai pouring over the regimental histories! Give me more than two Generals, Grishaverse wiki! Give me battle stories. Give me a history of regiments who're disbanded in times of peace and risen in times of war. We know Ravka has a draft and they're constantly in active border skirmishes with Fjerda/Shu Han, but I want to see the machinery and guts of a Ravka constantly in a state of ever-active militarism. Give me proper technological advancement by non-grisha, and for saint's sake, give me a reason why LB hasn't thought of this before Nikolai's Nolniki. It can't be Just Nikolai thinking of these things. Nor just Grisha hoarding all their tech!

#wyn rambles #military history #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #grishaverse worldbuilding #grishaverse meta #SIGH #as a history nerd this is a crime #she's trying her best #shadow and bone

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gingerlurk · 4 months

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Binding

Din Djarin x f!Reader

A Lovers' Crest one-shot (in three parts). Complete on A03.

Here's the LC Masterlist.

Summary: It was the hardest time of your life, those six months separated from Din Djarin. And when you and the Mandalorian had reunited amid passion and a promise of always, you'd wanted nothing more than to leave that wretched, lonely period behind. You should know by now your past will always have other ideas. This galaxy just isn’t gods damn big enough for all your missteps. And a chance encounter is going to test your bonds whether you want it to or not.

[Or, the characters from Lovers' Crest have a little post-story adventure! Could be read standalone, if below warnings are noted, but probably more enjoyable if you've read the whole thing.]

Word count: This chapter: 6kish. Total: 19.5kish.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut: unprotected piv (be safe), multiple Os, creampie, breath play, established relationship. Also, lots of action, characters in peril, bug/insect/creepy-crawlies imagery, discussion/descriptions of a slave colony (SW/sci-fi style), non-canon planet, lots of being non-canon in general, teeny tiny reference to Reader with someone else, thus jealous!Din makes an appearance. The next chapter is a little rowdy and there'll be warnings there. Please let me know if there's more to add I am rusty.

A/N: Hiiii. So yes, these are the characters from Lovers’ Crest. Just coz they insist on continuing to live on in my head, having adventures. And I thought it’d be fun to explore a dangling thread of plot I’d just left there to… dangle. (Chapter 16: The Bounty Hunter, for reference.)

This came about when a certain little unaired pilot took us fans of the man by surprise back in… September? And a certain gif set burrowed into my psyche and would not leave. This is the result.

And honestly? Bit off more than I could chew for a while there. It does say one-shot, but this is a three-parter. Also, fully admit I’ve been a touch lazy with parts of it. Goes with the territory.

Part I

The cave is dank. The air putrid with the smell of stagnant water and mildew.

Din Djarin makes sweeps with his scanner array as he walks through the gloom. From one side of the passage, across the jagged roof of the rocky ingress, to the other. Every surface drips liquid in a constant pat, pat, pat. He does his best to ignore it falling on his helmet and shoulders, soaking through his cloak, along with the clammy sensations gathering on his skin under all the armour.

This tunnel is among a matrix of caves spiderwebbing up and out from an aquifer that penetrates deep into the crust of this small planet. It’s the only source of water around, which is why the facility where the target awaits was built right over the top of it. The factory pumps the precious resource and draws all moisture from the surrounding terrain, leaving it dusty and barren.

Down here though, Din would kill for something dry.

You crinkle your nose and look across to him.

‘Well this is miserable,’ you pout, holding your hood forward to keep the drops out of your face.

He shrugs. ‘Your idea,’ he replies, stepping over a particularly deep puddle. ‘Your “debt”.’

It’s a petty description; he’s being petty. He knows it. He doesn’t want to be. Doesn’t want to be feeling this jagged edge of jealousy pricking at his mind either. Knows he shouldn’t. That it’s unfair. But it’s making itself known whether he wants it to or not.

‘Ouch,’ you murmur, stare head on again and continue to walk. He sighs.

‘Sorry,’ he says, reaching over to nudge a loose strand of hair into your hood. You let him, but don’t engage further. He sighs again.

‘Patu,’ Grogu inputs. The child drifts closer to the two of you in his pod, peering ahead. He doesn’t often use the little transport device these days, but something about this job had agitated the young one and Din had suggested the pod to try to ease his nerves. Grogu had accepted the idea with a grunt of appreciation.

‘It’s alright, kiddo,’ you’re saying. ‘We’re alright.’

He gives a nervous chirp as the path forward grows darker. Three beams of light stab at the eerie grey atmosphere – one emitting from Din’s helmet, one from the little device on your shoulder, and one from the headlamp of Grogu’s pod. Your shadows dance across the walls as your group makes its way through the dark.

The damp path you’re on burrows into the maintenance shafts of the vast power plant that is the destination. Once inside, it’ll be a matter of tracking the target with the makeshift fob you had – quite cleverly – devised with the limited intel Din had gleaned.

As a fresh whiff of stink hits his nose, he gives thanks there’s not much further to go. But just as the thought occurs, the sensors in his helmet pick up the ground ahead dropping away into a sheer cliff. He puts an arm out to signal for Grogu to hang back as you and he approach the edge.

‘Dank farrik,’ he mutters. ‘That wasn’t on the Crest’s scan.’

‘Rock must have been too deep to pick it up,’ you reason, shuffling closer to peer over the ledge to the pitch black below. ‘Or maybe it’s new? Is there seismic activity here? Can’t see how far down it goes. Or how far across.’

‘Well, let’s scope it out,’ Din begins to engage his jetpack, reaches an arm for you. ‘C’mere—’

He’s drowned out by a deafening noise that fills the rocky space and grows louder and closer within seconds. From across the chasm you’d just been contemplating, two huge shadows emerge from the dark to make a rapid approach. You and Din waste a crucial second to look at each other in alarm. Then they’re on you.

Din is cannonballed backwards by a massive black thing buzzing angrily. It slams him into the wall with a grunt. You shout his name just as a second insectoid monster whizzes overhead, careening off a large stalagmite to turn back and make at you with a mad hiss. You duck into a tumble to dodge its charge and it shrieks in fury as it sails past. The one on Din clacks mandibles in his face. He grabs hold of them and yanks, dragging them apart. The screeching intensifies until his flamethrower unloads into it and it drops to the ground twitching.

He has enough time to stand up and assess the scene before three more are accosting your party. One bursts into sticky bits as Grogu sweeps a tensed claw across himself, eyes closed and channelling his Force powers.

The creature that had missed its attack on you collides with the second incoming and they wobble about in the void. The third is headed straight for you.

Panic seizes Din’s chest. He doesn’t have time to reach you. But you’re standing tall, torch beam trained on the monster and a vibroblade readied in a fist. At the perfect moment, you twist side on so it barrels by and the blade makes a wide arc to find a home somewhere near its head.

The thing goes berserk, flipping onto its back while screaming and thrashing. Disgust on your face, you draw your blaster and unload into it. Once, twice, three times. In the time it takes, Din has crossed the space to treat it to a thorough roasting, reducing it to a spasming mess.

‘What the f—’ Before you can finish, the pair that had collided shoot upwards over the ledge, clearing your heads.

One just bashes straight into the granite ceiling, stunning itself and crashing to the ground by you. You drag your blade free of the dead one and rend a long slash along it, carving the carapace like covering clean off. It screams until it stills.

Din’s attention is on the final creature, which isn’t so clumsy. Corkscrewing in the air to orient itself, it spies a target and whizzes straight for it. Straight for the child.

He jabs at his vambrace and the pod strafes, swinging Grogu out of the thing’s trajectory. It had been moving so fast it ricochets off the wall with force. Tumbling backwards. And, no.

It slams into you, catching you by surprise and sending you with a scream over the edge into the chasm below.

‘Grogu!’ Din yells. The child already has arms up and eyes shut. Your cry of terror cuts to a string of ‘oh gods, oh my gods, oh shit, oh shit’ as he uses his powers to arrest your descent.

A spike of adrenaline surges in Din and the disoriented bug is snatched from the air with a hiss of whipcord. It gets reefed backward and ripped in half by the incensed Mandalorian.

Dropping the gory black pieces, he scrambles to the drop-off and leans over. You’re in midair, looking up at him with eyes wide and arms and feet dangling.

‘Holy shit!’ you yell. ‘Grogu! Good job!’

‘Are you okay?’ Din strains to keep his voice calm.

‘Uh, yeah...’ you twist to look over your shoulder. ‘I think it’s water at the bottom. Not sure how deep though. But if Grogu can let me down easy it’ll be—’

‘He’s got you,’ he calls back. He looks to his son, who is trembling with concentration, then back to you as you start to rise toward him. The panic eases a little.

‘Oh,’ you say. ‘Wow. This is... this feels weird.’

Din raises a forearm to ready his whipcord again. He’s about to launch it down to give you some stability when something hard wraps around his ankles. He hears a clank and feels a pull. He’s tugged onto his front and dragged backwards, away from the ledge. Past his son, whose eyes pop open to watch him go with a panicked ‘EH!’

He hears you scream again, followed by a huge splash. Some kind of heavy door snaps between him and the scene. He’s in total darkness. A sharp jab into his neck and he’s lights out.

One day ago

The Razor Crest is docked and resting. Grogu as well, cosy in his little hatch, slumbers deep. There is nothing and nobody around to hear the soft moans and dulcet praises drifting out of the cabin.

Din has had you spread across his lap for an eternity, massaging your ass and encouraging the rocking and swaying motions to work yourself on him. He stays deep so your clit grinds against his pelvis, so the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

Your mouths have barely parted, unable to get enough of lips and tongue sliding together. Sometimes kissing, sometimes just panting and pressing and playing. You can still taste your juices there, from when he had pleasured you until you were begging to have him inside you.

The orgasm now approaching with steady rotations of your hips is the third since straddling him, though you’d not bothered counting quite a few before that. There was no point, really. Din had lately discovered a stamina that awed you – though he had insisted it was just the natural result of having ‘your beautiful, perfect body, mesh’la,’ in which to indulge.

Hands buried in his dark curls, you smile and sigh as a gentle, warm bliss spreads over you.

‘Mmm, that was a soft one, was it?’ he hums against your cupid’s bow. ‘Only just felt it, love.’

‘Mmhm,’ you murmur back. ‘Felt good. Think I’m just getting all oversensitive now.’

You know better than to suggest wrapping up the session, to try to lay him back and ride him to completion. Know by now to let him give and give until he’s ready to accept. So you wait.

He presses his forehead to yours and considers.

‘Shall we try something new?’ he asks. You pull back to look at him. Your face is questioning, curious. Trying to think what he may mean by that. His brown eyes glimmer in the low light, warm depths that you can lose yourself in over and over. If you had it your way, you’d sink into them and never surface again.

‘Something new,’ you say. ‘Like what?’

He eases himself from you, lifting you from his lap and you whine a tiny ‘noooo’ at the sloppy sucking sounds of your parting. After so long feeling full and stretched, the emptiness is palpable.

‘Ssh, mesh’la,’ he coos. ‘Hush, trust me?’

‘Of course,’ you say, but still antsy. Feeling yourself drip with need. You let him guide you onto your hands and knees. He settles behind you, lets his stiff cock rest at the top of your ass.

‘Tell me if you don’t want to do this,’ he says, waits for acknowledgement – a nod of the head – before sweeping covetous hands over your lower back and ass. ‘I’ve been reading,’ he goes on in a husky drawl.

It’s such an odd statement you huff through your nose, look around. ‘Oh?’

‘Mmhm,’ he says. ‘A tome on the… pleasures of the flesh, I guess.’

You smirk, swipe a thirsty lick over your lower lip and regard him. ‘Din Djarin,’ you say with mirth. ‘Have you been reading smut?’

He gives you a low chuckle that you feel dance down your spine and swirl in your lower belly. The sensation is intensified when you see a hint of blush creep onto his features.

‘Not exactly , cyar’ika, love,’ he says. ‘More a guide. It suggested that a little added pressure, applied right, can heighten the um, the intensity at climax.’

He bends forward, braces an arm so he’s hunched over you, crowding you. Stomach pressed flush to your back and his hardness sandwiched between you. The other arm glides along your hips, skirts your waist and snakes across your ribs, between your breasts. A light forefinger taps the hollow dip at the base of your throat. It sweeps a smile-like shape from one ear to the other.

‘Here,’ he whispers. ‘Applied here. What do you think?’ The wandering digit is joined by the rest of his huge hand, which takes a gentle hold, barely touching.

The longer your pussy has been empty and untouched, the more it throbs and leaks. But your senses have indeed channelled a direct line to the feel of his hand there, can’t help but imagine what it’d be like to have him tighten his hold, push in, hold your life between the press of skin.

So you nod, the underside of your jaw and chin brushing against his hovering hand.

He rumbles in affirmative praise. ‘Thank you, cyar’ika,’ he whispers against your shoulder. You wait for him to move, to press in and start restricting your breath. But he shifts his hand down to press flat to your sternum instead. A petulant little whine turns to a gasp as your hauled up. Straightened at the waist so you and he are pressed together staring into the mirror hanging at the head of your bed.

Din had installed it at your request not long ago. You’d said it would make the cabin feel bigger. And it did. Though he didn’t much care about that and was quick to find other means for its use. Finding that he rather loved to make you watch yourself get fucked senseless.

You found yourself just fine with that too.

In the reflective surface, he locks gazes with you. You melt back against him.

‘So, we’re gonna take it slow,’ he says. You’ve no doubt. He’s an expert in patience when it comes to drawing pleasure out of you. The warm hand rests on your chest, forefinger on one collarbone, firm thumb on the other. Each receive another light tap before the hand moves back to the column of your throat. Comes to rest so those digits settle at the underside of your jaw, below your ears. No pressure yet.

He watches your face in the reflection, raises both brows in question, ‘do I keep going?’ he silently asks.

Nodding again, you nearly whimper as he still doesn’t move. Seems instead to be considering something of great import. After a torturous beat in which you’re on the verge of opening your mouth and begging, he lifts the other arm. It had been resting on your hip but now it moves to take up one of your wrists and guides it up. Wraps your fingers around the forearm resting at your breast.

‘Hold onto me, here,’ he rasps, close to your ear. ‘Let go if I should stop, okay?’

That’s it. You’re begging.

‘Yes, Din, yes, okay, but please please please, I need, ah!’

There it is. The hand at your neck finds the two perfect spots on either side and squeezes. It’s amazing how quickly your body reacts. Hands tingle with the errant sensation. Heart rate picks up and delivers static bursts against your ribs. Your thighs are quivering and your belly draws in to hug around the wanton desire at your core.

Torn between clenching your eyes shut to lose yourself in the feeling and wanting to see Din’s face, you make the effort to lock eyes with him. A pitch-dark, heated gaze flicks to and fro across your face and body. Locked in furious concentration as he stares at you in the mirror. But eventually, you have to let your eyelids drop and loll your head onto his hard shoulder, drunk on lust and want.

‘There,’ Din sighs in satisfaction. He eases off for a little, lets you suck in air. He reaches up to cradle your cheek, where blood rushes to burn you up. At your sublime smile and glassy-eyed stare, he moves back down, smooths over your jaw, finds his place and tightens in again. ‘Now, let’s see…’

His free hand moves to your breasts and, as your head swims with airy pleasure, pinches a tingling nipple. It’s like an electric shock and you arch your back against him, keen with a delirious kind of desperation. The intensity of it a measure of magnitude more than you’ve ever felt. Fingernails dig hard into his forearm as he works the bud – every tug and tweak eliciting a burst of sensation in your pulsing sex.

Oh, gods. What it will feel like when he finally touches you there. The thought alone is almost enough to bring you crashing over the edge. But no, he holds you on the precipice, watching your face while his two hands play you like a fine-tuned instrument. He knows just when to ease back, let you draw breath, and he knows just when you want more, gives it to you, over and over.

Right at the moment you feel you might scream – your clit now on the verge of an eruption set to tear you apart – both massive hands move. You moan with abandon as oxygen rushes back through your body, now overtaken with the vivid, buzzing waves of your approaching high. Din grips your hips, draws back to angle himself at your entrance. You’re babbling, yes, yes, ah, please, please, please, as he slides in, your juices letting his cock take and stretch that space within that is made for him.

He’s going in slow, inch by agonising inch, eking all he can from the movement, hissing and snarling with satisfaction. But you’re unable to hold yourself up, overcome and overwrought, and flop forward – only just catch yourself on an outstretched forearm. The angle forces him to bottom out in a snap of your ass to his hips and he lets out an almost pained grunt.

‘Oh, fuck,’ he spits. ‘Fuck, you’re perfect. Fuck, you feel so good.’

‘More Din,’ you beg. ‘Please, I want more.’

You’re a burning wick, shimmering and melting all over. All you need is for Din to replace his hand at your throat and move and you’ll—

He doesn’t hold back, throws the whole candle into the flames that lash and hiss at your lower belly and spine. Din cages you into his hunched form again, seizes your neck with one hand, grips your thigh with the other, and begins to fuck you hard and fast, pressing everything from your mind but the glistening, dazzling climax roaring toward you.

His thrusts are perfect inside you, finding the spots that sizzle with the friction. The force of his hips hitting your behind intensifies the tightness at your throat and you feel every bit of it your body bowing into the line between the two. His grunts and pants of effort feel louder, closer, inside.

The hand you’d had holding onto him falls away to hit the mattress with a thud. He releases his grip. His questioning, ‘Okay?’ is drowned out by your cry of, ‘So close!’ and the fingers that had been restraining you shift down your body, find your bundle of nerves, apply just the right pressure, and—

Oh sweet GODS!

It’s not just one rush of exquisite release, it’s rippling waves like a tide pool filling up. Pouring into you and coursing across your body again and again. You grip the bed covers like you might fall and let the whine that had settled in your throat crawl up and escape as a low moan – all you’re capable of. All you can do as it peaks, and peaks, and peaks.

‘Uh, gods, shit,’ he gasps. The hand on your thigh leaves and you know he’s squeezing the base of his dick hard right now. Edging himself to withstand what must be an exquisite feeling of your cunt spasming on him over and over.

But oh gods, holy fuck. You’re done. You’re spent. You have to tap out.

Reaching an arm to bury fingers in his hair and hold his head to your shoulder, you plead, ‘Please, Din. Please, want to feel you. Want to feel you cum.’

He accepts. He lets himself take it. Your cunt is a mould for his throbbing shaft, cast to bring him to nirvana with you. He bucks into you so hard, your whole body gives out, flattens to the mattress and he follows you down, dropping his hips into you at a pace so frenzied – in such contrast to the patience and precision of before – it sets the sparks going inside you again. Your body can’t help but wring another shattering release out of you and, at the feeling of you clenching hot around him, Din lets go.

‘Fuh, gods,’ he cranes his head to pant into your welcoming mouth. ‘Uh, fff- shh, huh, cuhhh- cumming.'

His groan sticks in his throat but his cock finds the very depths of you and spills his seed there, fills you and nurtures you. His mouth stays on yours and, as he rides out his high, starts to kiss you long and slow and deliberate while you each shift back into reality.

A sigh of, ‘I love you,’ slips into the air between you. And the responding, ‘Oh, so fucking much,’ dances in the breaths shared between your locked gazes and dazed smiles.

By the time you’re both showered and dressed again, Grogu is awake and making impatient cooing and burbling noises in his space.

‘That kid’s always hungry,’ you say, at the exact moment your stomach chooses to let rip a hollowed-out grumble of its own. Din smiles at your sheepish look.

‘You wanna head out?’ he asks. ‘Get a hot meal?’

‘Sounds amazing,’ you say, handing him his helmet and leaning up for a kiss. A thorough, deep kiss that – despite the past few hours leaving you about as sated as you think it’s possible to ever be – lights a renewed fire under you all over again.

You’re in real trouble.

It’s less a matter of finding it difficult to choose, and more about the fact you want to try it all. This bustling interchange hub had, over time, attracted purveyors of delicacies from across the galaxy. And it all looked delicious.

Adding to the challenge, the market is massive. Passing vendor after vendor, you get to the end of a row of stalls to find a whole new city block full of enticing smells and eye-catching dishes.

‘Din,’ you lean to him, lay a hand to the arm carrying the child. ‘I think I need to spend a month here. Eating everything.’

He chuckles, a warm rumble from his helmet. ‘We’ll definitely come back, that’s for sure. Why don’t you get the—’ But he’s distracted by Grogu having got hold of some kind of steamed bun, munching on it with a gleeful purr. ‘Hey, where did you get that?’

The two of you check the surrounds, trying to spot the stallholder selling the buns so you can slink over and pay for the kid’s sticky-fingered snack. Din focuses one way and you look the other, tracking over colourful signs and animated faces of all shapes and sizes. You’re about to turn back to report nil sightings when your eyes land on a familiar face and you freeze. Not a stallholder. You swallow as that ravenous appetite from before fades into a solid pit in your gut.

You make one futile attempt to duck out of view, to avoid this and stage a retreat. But it’s too late. You’ve been spotted. So, with reluctance, you slink over to an entirely different source of debt from a slightly less recent past.

Gaius straightens from the bollard they’d been leaning against.

‘Hey,’ they say, soft and easy. You eye them as you come to stand level. Looking for any anger or resentment. Any malice or indignation. It’d be fair enough. You had promised them you were one job from settling said debt when you’d up and disappeared along with the rest of the Guild. It wasn’t exactly your fault of course. But the pilot – who’d looked out for you and transported you all over the fade quadrant without question for several months – didn’t know that.

They had every right to be furious that you’d skipped out on what you owed.

But they seem... relaxed? Greeting you like an old friend.

‘Hhhhi,’ you say with a dumb little wave. ‘Gaius.’

‘You’re a sight,’ they say. There’s something in their tone, like you’re just a vision. A mirage shifting in and out of existence.

‘Listen,’ you start. ‘I’m really sorry about—’ But you’re stopped by a hand raised and a shaking head.

‘I heard,’ Gaius says. ‘I heard about the Guild up and shipping off to some Imperial invasion or other. Glad to see you’re alright, at least.’

‘Yeah,’ you kick a boot and pop hands in pockets, like a little kid caught sneaking off. ‘That was… I…’

Gaius is looking at you with a small, amused smirk. But the expression drops to a slacked jawed awe as Din takes that moment to step up to stand beside you. You’ve seen it plenty of times now. Were now used to strangers openly staring at your partner. Strangers who’d make no effort to hide the fascination and amazement when confronted with the statuesque wonderment that is Din Djarin.

But this is no stranger.

Gaaaah, ripping this plaster off is going to hurt.

‘Mando,’ you say, with an arm raised, ‘This is Gaius. We met, uh- we met while I was… away.’ The arm sweeps between the two of them. ‘Gaius, Mando. And this is Grogu.’ The kid has yet another fresh steamed bun and he waves it around while burbling with content.

The two adults regard each other. You stand between them, feeling wretched. After a beat, Gaius seems to make a decision. They turn to you.

‘Well hey, if you are still looking to settle that debt,’ they say. You wince as you hear a whisper quiet ‘debt?’ from the man beside you. ‘I have a job in mind that would put you free and clear. You are still working bounties, right?’

With raised eyebrows and palms out, held up, they wait.

Shhhhhit, you think. This is going to suck. Let out a sigh and a shrug.

‘How about we start with, I buy you a drink?’

Gaius grins, and nods.

Shit.

‘So,’ Gaius says, at ease with elbows propped on the booth’s table. You’re already cringing. ‘You two together then?’

You twitch on the bench seating, twist a drink around by its base. Gods, you’d managed to make things so awkward.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Very much so.’

They nod, jut out their chin in contemplation. Could they just drop it and tell you want they want from you, already?

‘That who you were running from?’ they prod. ‘When you were with me?’

Your eyes dart over to Din, wary of how he’s going to learn about what transpired in those long, desperate months apart. You’re now really wishing that you’d talked about it. The barest details at least. But he had never asked and you had wanted nothing more than to just move on. Take the lessons learned and move forward.

Apparently you hadn’t learnt enough. You should know by now your past will always have other ideas. This galaxy just isn’t gods damn big enough for all your missteps.

Fortunately for the moment, Din is on the other side of the bar getting distracted by Grogu trying to steal an irate patron’s plate of ribs.

You look back to Gaius.

‘First of all,’ you say. ‘I wasn’t with you, okay? We were working together.’ They raise a brow, an unnecessary clarification. ‘And that was one time. Could we please not--’ Gaius straightens with a flick of the eyes to the side, tipping you off that Din and Grogu are approaching. You clam up.

The two of them take their seats. Din slides into the booth beside you and the kid just plants his butt on the table, gnawing on a meaty bone. His father shrugs. ‘Paid the guy a couple credits,’ he explains.

You shift in your seat again.

‘So what’s the deal?’ he asks.

‘We haven’t gotten to that yet,’ Gaius says. ‘We were just catching up.’

You pull an annoyed face at them.

‘Okay,’ Din says. Goes quiet.

You scull your drink. Immediately regret it, the strong flavour making your vision swim.

‘We were just getting to it,’ you burp. You can sense the puzzlement flowing off the man sitting beside you, try to get your breathing under control. ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ you say, with a wave to the table companion across from you.

Gaius takes a drink of their own and sets shoulders back, draws a deep breath.

‘Right, okay, so... Sorry, it’s hard to know where to start with all this.’

Noticing a slight tremor has crept into their hands, you lean forward. ‘Start anywhere, we’ve got time,’ you say, as soft as you can. Try for a reassuring expression.

You get a grateful nod in return.

‘Okay. So I’m from a planet called Evalon,’ they plough on. ‘If you’ve heard of it?’

You shake your head as Din gives one solid nod.

‘Right,’ Gaius focuses on Din. ‘So you know that it’s a…’

‘Slave planet,’ he finishes when they trail off. You startle, look back across the table at the pilot with whom you’d briefly travelled. A tug on your heart. You’d had no idea.

‘Sure, yeah,’ they don’t give you a chance to dispense any sympathies though, pushing on in a rush. ‘Used to be just a whole colony of the indentured… But it’s a little different now…’

Over the foamy liquid of the drink you’d bought, Gaius tells a story that brings a dawning horror upon you. Slips icy daggers between your ribs. Settles a profound dread within you as vast and as wide as the greatest oceans.

A generation ago, the people of Evalon revolted. Rose up and tried to end the awful system that kept them in perpetual servitude. Tried to fight off the brutal company of droids that had kept them under the thumb of a faceless regime. They had failed. As punishment, a new system was introduced. A new piece of tech created that, as you sit there and listen, makes the primal lizard part of your brain lurch in terror.

Mind control.

‘They call it binding,’ Gaius says, and you’re awash with gooseflesh. ‘It suppresses all independent cognitive functioning, hacks into neural links that obey without question.’

Under the renewed tyranny, children were implanted with the device and sent off to toil away. There was minimal need for security because they were no flight risk, docile and programmed to follow a set path, a known routine. And the droids that once guarded them were decommissioned down to a skeleton crew.

The adults were cast out to live in squalor and decay on the outside. Neutered and powerless. Unable to rise up again lest their children be harmed, or worse. They were all and one trapped in an evil psychological vice.

‘Why just the kids?’ you ask. ‘Why not chip everyone and make them all work?’

Gaius smiles at you sadly. ‘Pragmatic as ever, you are,’ they say. You realise how insensitive your comment was, kick yourself and mumble out an apology, that wasn’t what you meant... Sorr-- But they shake their head. ‘No, it’s a valid question, and the answer is important.’

They explain. Though a terrifying and unprecedented feat of ingenuity, the tech isn’t perfect. Its effectiveness has a half-life in a fully formed frontal cortex. Once of a certain age, it only works for so long before the subject – the enslaved person – can break out of it and act of their own accord.

‘That’s how I got out,’ Gaius says. ‘The birthdate on my chain code was always inaccurate, a quirk of the system when I was born. So I was kept in the ranks for longer than most, and was able to break out. Run away. But…’

Squaring shoulders back and looking you head on, they state the case. The job.

‘My little sister is still there. I think. I hope. And I want you to rescue her.’

The bustle and chatter of the bar filters into the silence that cloaks the table. You’re at war with yourself. You want to know where this Evalon planet is so you can ensure to stay far away from that cursed, horrifying place for all of time. The notion of binding. Of being bound. It sets off every single fear instinct in your body.

But you can see a sad desperation flickering behind the steady features of the person across from you. So unlike how they were when you worked with them before. It tugs on your heart. This is something they’ve carried too long. Behind a jaded yet sanguine veneer. A horrific past and a deep love still lurking back there.

‘So,’ you say, thankful for your even tone. ‘You want us to go to a slave colony, with mind-control tech, and evil droids, to do a rescue… That’s kind of quite a lot beyond what I’ve left owing, don’t you think?’

‘Hey, I said free and clear,’ Gaius makes an effort to muster some ease, leans back to prop an arm across the booth’s backrest. ‘And let’s say I’ll owe you one, instead.’

‘This isn’t a bounty,’ Din says, startling you a little by speaking up after a long stretch of silence. ‘We don’t do rescues.’

It’s a little cold, and you frown at his composure.

Gaius sighs. The pretence of relaxation drops and the world-weary traveller rests elbows back on the sticky varnished surface between you.

‘Look,’ they say. ‘I’ve been trying to buy my sister’s rescue for years. But I lack the… well, I lack everything. And I could never afford the likes of you,’ a gesture at you both. ‘I just, I see an opportunity here. And alls I can say is, please…’

They move a hand to a pocket. Beneath the table, you shift an arm to stay Din’s instinctive movement onto a weapon, hoping it was subtle enough that Gaius didn’t notice. They don’t seem to, focused instead on the object they’re drawing out. It’s dropped onto the table and the holo blinks to life.

A small, cherub face winks into existence, rotates in front of you.

‘She’s older now, of course, but uh…’ they go quiet.

That’s when you give in. Your hand grips the wrist of the Mandalorian beside you, where it still rests on the blaster holstered there. When you feel him move, twining fingers with yours in a silent affirmative, you speak.

‘We’ll do it,’ you say.

Despite the mutual agreement, it’s a palpable awkwardness between you and Din as you ready for the mission.

At the Mandalorian’s nod, your debtor had followed your clan of three back to the Razor Crest. You’d invited Gaius to take a seat up in the cockpit and explained the ship’s ground security mechanisms. It was clear they needed to join you on this quest to Evalon – the more information in hand about this hellish planet, the better. And you do the best you can to reassure them of their safety before departing to join Din by the weapons locker.

You approach slow, taking in his hackled back and stand-off posture.

Though he shows it rarely, you know what jealousy looks like on him. And right now it’s radiating off him like a piece of steel held too long against the forge.

Turning it over in your mind, you wonder at the best approach here. What should you tell him? There’s not a lot of time, none at all really. But he’s likely to be drowning in scenarios playing out in his head, so you have to say something.

He’s undertaking his usual ritual of equipping munitions and weaponry to every limb and every piece of beskar on his body. Blades of various length and utility are taken down and jammed into hidden sheaths with force. He tugs rifle slugs and detonators off the weapons rack like they’ve offended him before clipping them to bandolier and belt.

Stepping up beside him, you take down your favoured vibroblade, toy with the hilt and look up at his profile. The T visor doesn’t turn your way.

‘You know,’ you start, feeling out of your depth already. ‘It was hard. Those months apart…’

‘Seems like you got by,’ he murmurs, focused on adjusting a vambrace and glove.

Ouch. You accept the blow and push on.

‘Din, please,’ you say, holstering the hand weapon and hugging yourself. ‘It was hard. I was just never sure what to tell you about, about it all.’

‘The way they look at you tells me plenty,’ he says, just a hint of a growl behind his words. ‘Flew with them on a lot of jobs, did you?’

‘Psh, I got a hole blown in their ship,’ you scoff, arms dropping and going wide. ‘I was just trying to pay back on the repairs.’

‘Hm.’

An awkward beat of silence as you flounder about what to say next.

How about…

I was alone and I needed a pilot and they were helpful and let me do what I needed to do. We slept together one time because I was so lonely I thought I might die. I felt worse than ever and then I disappeared on them because I’d joined the Guild and it got hired by the Imps set on destroying your people and I escaped to come find you again and warn you and…

Uh, no. Saying all of that will not be of help right now.

You think you might just burst into tears. But Din tilts his helm like he’s had a sudden thought and asks, ‘You were paying back on the repairs?’

‘What?’

‘You didn’t just do the repair work yourself?’

Huh, fair question. If something like that ever happened to the Razor Crest, you’d have had the lovely old gunship back in action within the day. None of this ‘paying back on repairs’ business.

‘Wh- no…’ you say. ‘I wasn’t… I was trying to—’

‘Keep your cards close to the chest?’ he finishes – the tiniest, blessed hint of a smile in his voice.

You give him a full grin. ‘Yeah, pretty much. Always used to try to keep that particular skill-set under wraps, before uh-- before I met you… And, and it just wouldn’t have felt right… you know, with another ship…’

Another silence follows. But gentler, more companionable. As Din nears the end of his process, you chance it to lay a hand on his elbow, smooth it over the rough fabric of his flight suit. He lets you, closing up the locker with the other hand.

‘Does it matter how they look at me?’ you say. ‘Isn’t what matters the way I look at you?’

You swallow your sigh of relief as a gloved hand closes over yours, gives it a gentle squeeze.

‘Mm,’ he says. ‘You’re right, I just-- Maybe if you’d told me about them before now…’

‘You didn’t ask… I would’ve if you’d asked. I’ve told you anything you’ve wanted to know, anytime you’ve asked,’ you’re rambling. And losing track of what your intent here was to begin with.

‘You know all about my past. About my- my old family. But all I’ve ever gotten about yours is the “Narrated History of the Mandalorians”,’ you say, aware of your petulance but unable to stop. Where is this coming from all of a sudden? ‘But what about you? What about your fami—’ He cuts you off by turning to you fully and leaning in.

‘Is this really the time?’ he asks, low and just shy of dangerous again.

Drop it. Drop it now.

‘No, guess not…’

‘Okay then,’ he says. He mounts his jetpack, hands you a blaster pistol and strides to the cockpit ladder. Conversation over. ‘Let’s go pay off your debt.’

Quick note on breath play… this story is fantasy, it’s just make-believe, and it feels plausible to me that the characters – via their respective fighting techniques and training – have the knowledge of anatomy and skills around the neck, head and chest area to reduce the risks. But it is risky, and if you do it – do your research first. (Or maybe don’t do it at all?) As with all kinks, education, communication and explicit ongoing consent are key. Thanks for your time. Ily.

Hope you enjoy the read.

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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izicodes · 2 years

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Tuesday 28th February '23

- JavaScript

I’m currently using Freecodecamp’s ‘JavaScript Algorithms and Data Structures’ course to study the basics of JavaScript. I know some JavaScript already, especially from the lessons from the coding night classes, but I kind of rushed through the lessons to just get the homework done and didn’t give myself enough time to sit down and learn the concepts properly! Today I completed 30 lessons and learnt about arrays, box notation, switch, if-else statements and operators!

- Python

Back on Rep.it and I’m continuing the ‘100 days of Python’ and I got up to day 27. I learnt about using the import keyword and modules such as random, os, and time. I think the challenge has us making an adventure game soon!!

- C#

Watches some youtube videos on C# with SQLite projects because I came up with yet another project idea that has to do with using technologies!

>> note: have a nice day/night and good luck with your studies and in life!

#xc: studies #programming studies #codeblr #progblr #studyblr #coding #programming #studying #python #javascript #csharp #study hard #tech #compsci #study notes #python studies #computer science #csharp studies #javascript studies

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tarisilmarwen · 1 year

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RobStar Week 2023, Day 4 - Missing

(Set during "How Long Is Forever" because apparently I like hurting myself.)

---

The gears near the ceiling rumbled as he stepped into the dimly lit room. Nightwing didn't blink, his eyes already adjusting.

He made a clinical sweep, glancing in each of the corners of the room to check for hidden threats. Satisfied for the moment that nothing had gotten past his security system, he made his way to the computer control on the far wall.

His boots echoed emptily in the hollow space, dull echoes bouncing off the surfaces. Aside from his footsteps and the occasional hiss of steam, it was oppressively quiet.

With a flick of a hand on the console the system booted rapidly to life, cool blue artificial light falling across his face. The camera feeds arrayed themselves on the topmost bank of screens, showing silent snow-covered angles of Jump City. His OS waited for his input, blinking green cursor in the DOS window that had auto-opened on the screen.

Nightwing reached for the keyboard. He happened to glance at the other icons on the desktop.

His hand stilled, hovering over the space bar.

He stared, confused, at the small red circle imposed over the shortcut for the messaging app.

The little dot stared back at him for a long moment as his mind blanked out, bewildered.

He had a message?

He never got messages.

Cyborg was the only one who still had his contact info and in all the years he'd been set up here he had never...

He was frozen for a portent minute. Warily, he moved the cursor to hover over the icon.

He hesitated for one second longer before he clicked it.

The message opened. It was from Cyborg, like he'd thought, and consisted of a single line:

You were right. She's back.

Nightwing gaped at the words, uncomprehending for a tense eternity. His eyes widened abruptly, the dawning realization of what Cyborg meant hitting him like a bowling ball.

Yanking out his desk chair, he sat down and flipped through camera feeds, flashes of the city blipping one by one in rapid succession as he searched.

Downtown business district, nothing. Central Park, nothing. The abandoned factory section, nothing.

Finally, he found an angle that showed a flying streak floating over the city. Breath hitching, he adjusted the programming of his surveillance system, directing it to track the anomaly.

The system filed through a few different cameras before one caught a close enough glimpse.

The air left his lungs like his breath had been punched out of him. His back hit the chair solidly as he sat, gaping, a vice of emotion squeezing around his throat.

Vibrant red hair. Orange skin. Purple garments accented with metal bracers.

His heart was sputtering, like it had forgotten how to beat. He could hear his pulse loud in his ears.

It couldn't be...

Starfire.

His head spun, sitting there dumbly, just watching her as the cameras tracked her across the city. With a rush, he hurled forward, typing out a reply to Cyborg.

When? was all he managed to get out, before his impatience made him smack the button to send.

The wait between the response seemed interminable.

A new message blipped.

She's looking for Warp. She's trying to set things right. She needs help.

Frantic fragmented disjointed thoughts collided in his head, but his body was moving automatically, sliding to another panel, scanning for chronol distortions. Within minutes he was on Warp's trail.

Long buried emotion threatened his composure, rising up like heat in his face, stinging his eyes. He clamped down on the surge, shoving it back under the lid he kept all his feelings under.

Focus, he told himself.

Cold professionalism dropped over him again, as he leapt from the seat and stalked back out. Though his body was charged up with adrenaline he kept it controlled, his face as expressionless as ever.

The biting chill of the outside air clawed at his face, scraped his lungs as he moved silently across rooftops. Nothing slowed him down. He didn't stop to think. If he stopped moving, he would start to double-guess, question himself. He had to keep going fast enough that the grief couldn't reach him.

At the same time, he pushed back against the warm spark starting to pop inside his chest, the faint flickerings of hope. He was just going to check this out, that was all. Investigate Cyborg's claim. He couldn't afford not to. He'd promised he would never stop looking.

He made it to the last location his scanner had pinged Warp's tech at. It was an open boulevard, and there were two figures there, unusual since these roads were usually empty and abandoned these days.

One wore gold-plated armor. Encased helmet, black slacks. Nightwing would know him anywhere. Warp. The other...

A sharp splinter of hot iron felt like it stabbed up through his stomach, piercing his heart and lungs. His limbs pumped faster; he leapt from the roof to the street below, his only goal to reach her before the blast charging in Warp's weapon did.

Robotically, he flung himself at Warp, anger burning under his sternum that the man would dare raise his hand against her again. The villain weighed practically nothing to the surge of strength flowing through him; as soon as he found his feet he was throwing Warp down an alleyway.

Warp hit the wall so hard it cracked, but Nightwing wasn't done, hurling a handful of explosive disks.

They popped off in the empty silence like thunderclaps, smoke and fire filling the alleyway. Nightwing punched through the smoke with a yell but the villain was already gone, slipped away like mist.

One long slow inhale and he calmed himself, the hot fury inside him siphoning away. Control. He wasn't fifteen anymore.

But he stood and turned around and she was. She was small and wide-eyed and so young; it was boggling to be looking down at her. She seemed so much tinier and thinner, standing timidly at the entrance to the alley, green eyes like wide plates, astonished, fearful, and a bit uncertain.

She was breathtaking, stepping from the shadows of the past unchanged like some kind of immortal fae... and he couldn't touch her.

A somber shroud darkened over him. She couldn't stay. She was trying to go back, of course she was trying to go back. She didn't belong here, in this bleak, hopeless future. The damage was done. His timeline would never go back to the way it was.

She couldn't stay.

He steeled himself firmly, posture somber, shuttering away his heart, and all the things he wanted to tell her.

I love you. I missed you. Please don't go away again.

Instead he said:

"It's good to see you again."

***

There was some part of him that felt lightened, free of some heavy weight, even though he knew she would only be here temporarily.

"Watch your step," he told her, leading the way down the stairs. "The third stair from the bottom is a little warped."

It squeaked under her foot as she put weight on it and she gawped, yelping a little, startled.

He turned his face so she wouldn't see him smile.

"We can track Warp through the chronol distortion he causes around him," he told her, pressing a button on his gauntlet and bringing up his personal HUD, which showed a little holographic map of the scans his supercomputer up in the main room were running on the city. "Temporal anomalies cause vibrations in the air molecules that the scanners can pick up."

Switching off the display he went for the weapons rack, loading his utility belt back up with all the basics. He'd left with a severely depleted supply when he'd gotten Cyborg's message, and he wanted to be prepared for anything in the upcoming fight.

"We hit him hard, but carefully. Chances are the tech in his suit is the only thing that can send you home. We don't want to damage it," he was rambling absently, loading up freeze discs and wingdings. "Hopefully the others will come help, but I think we can still take him if they don't."

"Robin?"

For some reason, this time, her voice froze him in place like ice, a lasso looping tight around his throat and squeezing, rendering him incapable of speech for a moment.

Nightwing's mind strained for control, his adam's apple bobbing harshly as he swallowed.

"Have... have I done something... wrong?" she asked.

His head whipped around, against his better judgement. "What?" he blurted. "No! No of course not, Star," he rushed to assure her, the rest of him turning around to face her. "Why would you think that?" he asked in dismay, cracks showing in his unflappable expression, unable to hide the distress that pinched his eyes.

She ducked her head, softly, some kind of awful sadness in her eyes. "It is just..." she began, then fiddled with her hands a long moment, wringing them. "You... you have not touched me once since we were reunited," she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it. "You have barely even looked at me."

Screams scraped against the sides of his head and it was all Nightwing could do to keep his expressionless mask in place.

Starfire clutched her hands tighter around the edge of the blanket, the only display of affection he had allowed himself to give her, shrinking in on herself like a wilting wildflower.

"I... I know that it is... different now," she strained out, "and you cannot reassure me in the way you might have when we were younger..." She was almost biting her lip, eyes watery and welling. "But I... you feel so distant and strange and I—I cannot help but feel like you don't want—"

He broke.

In an instant his arms were wrapped around her, and he was fifteen and terrified again, his face buried in her hair, embracing her with all his might and shuddering, silent sobs rattling up through him.

"You were gone," he whispered. "You were gone, Starfire. You disappeared." His throat was clogged, snot and inelegant emotion choking him. "I never stopped looking. I couldn't. But you were gone for so so long that I just—"

A strangled hiccup escaped him.

"—It—It hurt too much, I—"

Her hands pressed on either side of his face, pulling his head firmly back in front of hers, so she could look him directly in the face.

"I am sorry," she whispered tremulously, voice wavering. "I am sorry you had to go through that. I am sorry I was not there. I am here now," she told him.

Nightwing sniffed back his breath, senses tingling, struggling to regain his calm. "It's okay," he said, even though it wasn't, even though everything in him wanted to shatter. He forced himself to take a step back, distance himself from her warm touch.

He inhaled and exhaled, getting himself back under control. She watched him with concern, familiar and touching, her gaze like a soothing balm on his soul.

She can't stay, he reminded himself. He had to send her back. To her time, her Robin.

He wouldn't let himself go through this again.

A firm, burning determination shone in his eyes as locked eyes with her.

"Let's get you home," he said fiercely, conviction ringing out through every part of him as she ignited fire in his bones.

They would set this right.

#starfire #robin #nightwing #robstar #Teen Titans #robstarweek #prompt fics #fanfiction

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