#talk to me about the desert please i want to talk about exploring it and finding cool stuff and hunting scorpions for fun and and | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punkassfrance · 7 months ago

Text

Sierra Nevada - Chapter I - Ellie/Abby

Chapter I: Donner (Work Length ~1.4k) This work is rated M for canon-typical violence and gore. Please look here for a full list of warnings for the series, specific warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter. This work contains passing mention of cannibalism and discussion of a massacre. (Aftermath- corpses, smell, etc.) Full Series - Next Chapter

“Even though I told people to call me Linda, that was another girl’s name. I had to change my name several times because of what I had done, or rather, what had been done to me.” - Aimee Parkison, “The Innocent Party”

Abby

It was hard to say exactly what happened to the Fireflies. They didn’t have much to go on, once Abby and Lev finally made it to Catalina island. There were no notes, no maps, no audio logs explaining everything they needed to know. From what did remain, Abby could only say one thing for sure- it was a fucking bloodbath.

The bodies weren’t fresh. They weren’t old, either. Sometime between 2425 Constance and the moment they made it to the island, the Fireflies were wiped out. It had been a few weeks, maybe a month since the bodies hit the ground where they laid. There was no getting away from the smell; nowhere on the island was safe from the harsh reminder of whatever had happened.

Some of them looked like they went down fighting, gunpowder residue still on their fingers. Some were executed. There were missing boats along the docks- some must have made it out alive, she thought with the last bit of hope she had left. It didn’t last long.

Lev looked up from the shambles of the Fireflies, looking to Abby for hope, a plan, anything she could offer. They’d spent almost two years looking for the Fireflies, they’d been so close. It was all Abby had wanted.

But they still had fresh rope burn. They both still hungered from the pillars, and she had injuries to take care of from the cure. She still tasted blood, and tried not to focus too hard on what was stuck in her teeth.

“…come on, Lev.”

That was almost a year ago, now. Maybe if they weren’t both exhausted, starving and beaten like dogs, they would have kept looking. They wouldn’t have given up on the Fireflies.

But Santa Barbara changed things. After all they’d seen, all that had happened, some part of Abby decided it was just over. All Lev wanted was to be with Abby, and all Abby wanted to do was get the fuck out of this city.

The sailboat made it as far as San Francisco before it couldn’t keep going. Abby had tried to fix it for about a week before Lev confessed he wanted to explore inland- see what the world was like outside the coast.

“Abby?” She looks up from her journal as Lev calls her from a few yards away, pointing to a road sign he’s spent the last ten minutes uncovering. “How do you say this? Trucke?”

Abby stands and walks over to him, squinting at the sign. “It’s Truck-ee. Just how it looks. Means we’re getting close to Nevada.”

There’s been…some interruptions on their trip, to say the least. Some things Abby can’t bring herself to remember, let alone talk about- but they’re past that. Abby’s hair is slowly growing out, past her shoulders now, just enough to braid. Her hair hasn’t been this short since she was a teenager. Lev’s kept his hair short, but not fully shaved- he gets nightmares when it gets too long. But then, he gets nightmares most nights.

“What’s Nevada like?”

“What is it, October? Should be nice. We should leave before spring, though. It’s a lot of desert. We’ll go around Reno if we can help it.”

“Have you been there?” Lev lets the foliage fall back over the road sign, hands resting on the straps of his backpack.

“Nope. We’re both gonna see something new.”

They’re just outside of Donner, Abby pausing their lesson on the history of the area to take a short rest. He’s fascinated by what he’s heard, even the morbid details she barely remembers. “Book on Donner Party/murder?” is written down in her shopping list, one of the dozens of things she needs to find at some point. He’d like that, she’s certain.

“We should get moving. Should just be another day or so to Nevada.”

Lev nods and starts off down the road as Abby puts her journal away, half-jogging to keep up with him. “Hang on, Lev-”

“Gotta get a move on!”

She huffs quietly and runs until she catches up to him, glancing around the woods. He knows she’s been trying to get back in shape. It’s been tricky, after everything that happened in Santa Barbara, but not as hard as she feared it would be. Muscle comes back easier once it’s been gained the first time around, even if the limited calories complicate things. Whatever anyone had to say about the Washington Liberation Front, they kept their people fed. One of the few things she misses from Seattle.

“I’m coming.”

Ellie

“No. I’m not gonna do this again. If you walk out, I’m not going to be here if you come back.”

“That’s up to you.”

There was no real point in going back. There was nothing left for Ellie, after all. The possessions she’d turned into a life meant nothing anymore- Tommy probably took most of them when Dina left. If she ever decides she wants any of it back, if she ever returns to Jackson to beg for Dina’s forgiveness, she hopes Tommy at least has the decency to feel ashamed.

Not that he matters, anymore. Not that anyone in Wyoming matters. Not that anyone matters.

When she journals about it, she wants to say she hasn’t been this disconnected since she was…younger, but she can’t settle on an age. First it was Riley. Then Marlene. Then Joel. Then Dina. As much as loneliness has haunted her entire life, the more she thinks about it, it was never so tangible. There was always something there, someone keeping her tethered to humanity.

But Santa Barbara changed things. After Abby disappeared into the fog, after she stood from the water on the last shreds of energy she had and watched the horizon, it was too late. When the stars started to appear on the water, it hit her that there was nothing for her anywhere. Jackson might welcome her, but it would never be home again.

So, east. There was no real plan to it, nothing beyond get out of Santa Barbara, so that’s what she did. Wandered until she found somewhere suitable to settle down. She’s not sure what the name of the town is, just that it’s quiet. Joel would have liked it, she thinks- he loved the mountains. They never managed to get this far west together.

It looked like an old vacation town, somewhere rich people would visit when the season was right. It’s been nearly a year since she settled here, and if there’s anything she’s learned, it’s that nobody in their right mind would be here in the winter just to visit. The snow should be coming in any day now- she’ll have to prepare for it soon.

At least there’s a nice view from the back porch of the cabin she settled on. Her cabin, now. The previous owner was quickly dispatched, his spores fully aired out within a week. Now it’s just her place. She drinks the tea in her hand, thumb rubbing over the design on the mug. It’s not the same owl mug Joel had, but it’s close enough to remind her. Remind her she cared about someone for a little while.

Her place is so quiet. There’s no voices, no humming from the kitchen, no kids giggling and playing outside. It’s nothing like Jackson. If she doesn’t speak, nothing needs to be said. It’s nice. A bird sings nearby— it’s one of Ellie’s favorite sounds. Joel told her it was called a Mourning Dove.

Pushing herself back from the balcony railing, she gives the woods one last look before she turns back to the house. There’s a laundry list of things to do- prepare firewood, move the few plants that can be moved indoors, clear out the gutters— small things to handle before the snow really sets in. The greenhouse still needs fixing up, just another thing for her to get to once summer returns.

As endless as it feels, the list she’s built up is only a few years long. Ellie’s not sure what she’s going to do once she hits the end of it.

But for now, as she sets her mug next to the sink and reaches for her jacket. She’s fresh out of distractions for the morning.

I'm so excited to start this series- hopefully you enjoyed chapter one, more on the way soon! Again, heed the warnings for each chapter, please be safe! Huge thanks to @jennaispunk for looking this over for me, the help is very much appreciated!!

Thank you to @plum98 for the forest divider! Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

#the last of us #fanfiction #ellabs #ellie the last of us #ellie #ellie williams/abby anderson #ellie williams #ellie tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #ellie williams x abby anderson #series #sierra nevada #my writing

41 notes · View notes

phoenixinthefiles · 6 months ago

Text

Times like these I really wish this app had a text to speech function:

I’ve been thinking about citzenzhip a lot when it comes to the Batfamily, HEAR ME OUT.

Disclaimer: I am not part of an immigrant family so if anything I say is offensive please let me know

So Dick, Damian, and Cass, were obviously born outside the U.S, WHERE’S THE CHARACTER EXPLORATION FOR THAT?

Like Damian and Dick knew English before coming here but there are still other experiences they definitely would’ve gone through.

Damian probably hated/hates the U.S. He was raised on “you do things perfectly-good-you slip up-punishment” (that’s obviously horrible) but the U.S. and all its systems are oftentimes OVERLY complicated. Can you imagine how hard it would be to go from an abusive, perfectly, structured environment, to one that’s constantly divided over the simplest things?

Not to mention that if we’re going with the backstory of him having lived in the desert for the majority of his childhood, there’d be a massive climate change. Like he’d probably have allergies, and maybe eczema.

Can you imagine finally getting to meet your father and you breakout and nearly asphyxiate because of the air pollution. (Slight hyperbole)

Ra’s Al Ghul is a horrible, abusive man but he’s relatively environmentally conscious (still horrible and abusive)

And with Dick?

If we go off Haly’s Circus being an European traveling circus, and his mother possibly being a French-speaking Roma, we can understand why it’d be difficult for him to adapt to life at Wayne Manor.

You travel 3 hours from London and you end up in Paris. A kid who’s used to that type of learning environment would HATE the American school system. He’s sitting in an uncomfortable desk chair listening to a teacher drone on about something he will never use in his life. When he used to be taught physics, while doing a handstand on the railing of the freaking Ponte de Rialto.

Regardless of potentially having ADHD or not, he’s still fidgeting in his seat—yearning for recess. But because this is America (and likely around the early 2000’s or so) his teacher rudely points out his fidgeting and the rest of the class see the boy that looks different from them, acting differently from them as well. And Children can be cruel.

I can’t imagine the experience of being an extroverted child who is used to forming connections with children, who look different from him, BECAUSE of his talents and uniqueness, being thrust into an environment that discourages that,WHILE HE’S GRIEVING HIS PARENTS.

Also Damian and Dick are both tan/brown skinned, and they’re likely going to a rich private school without a lot of people that look like them. (Gotham Academy did not start gaining a more diverse population until Jason came around and that was the reason he wanted to go to public school[I stand by this headcanon…bcus fiction imitates life])

Not to mention the unreasonable amount of prejudice towards Arabs in this country and others. That’s a rough time for a 8-11 year old who JUST moved here and already has a disconnect with his peers due to his abuse and forced maturity.

SO, SO much I’ve said and so, so much I still haven’t. I haven’t even BEGUN to talk about Cass and how difficult it had to be to come to THIS country not being able to understand spoken language at all? She was a teenager when she met Bruce but that just makes different, not better.

Once again I am Black, so while I have experience as a minority in this country, I have no experience with being an immigrant so if I have said something offensive do NOT hesitate to let me know.

Also does this count as me writing something? Probably not huh?

@vhscity idk if you want to read my rant with horrible grammar mistakes.😭😭

#batfamily #fromphoetou #dick grayson #cassandra cain #damian wayne #dcu comics

28 notes · View notes

frozenjokes · 3 months ago

Note

i continued being unable to sleep so i continued shoving as much of your writing into my brain as possible, by which i mean i just read alllll of the mumbomaid au pretty much at once and am being Normal about it

i love them all, i love all of them so much, i'm very invested in their shenanigans, i love how almost nobody understands gender and they all misunderstand it differently

i am ALSO aro in the "no i don't have feelings for anybody, yes i would date basically any of my friends" way and everything surrounding scar's aromanticism is so well done, i kept being soo exasperated with grian and the like. the incredibly allo misunderstanding of aromanticism, and not listening when scar and cleo try to tell him he doesn't get it, i have friends i've had almost those exact conversations with (but slightly less messy because of varyious factors including but not limited to Not Being Desert Duo, Thank Fuck) just ajfhdjdhjshdjfsk

also also i love textbook monsterfucker scar and i'm convinced bdubs thinks etho grew up in a cult or some shit (i'm throwing words at this ask box like spaghetti)

anyway uh. i'm probably gonna keep wanting to say words about your fics as i keep reading them and the ao3 comment section scares me so. i will probably be back, feel free to tell me to buzz off if this is not a preferred communication method

-guy that said mapleshade=p!scar (maplescar? scarpleshade? there's gotta be something here, did i mention the sleep deprivation sorry if this is all insane rambling lmao)

maplescar is a really cool tortie kitty name I like that a lot. maplescar would go crazy. ALSO PLEASE KEEP SAYING WORDS!!!!! say words FORWVER!!!! spam my ao3 comments and I will respond to them 9/10 ten times!!!!!!! I love talking I love when people talk to me THANK YOU!!!!!! you could send me an ask every single time you finish a chapter and I would kiss you on the lips each time but my followers might be killing you with hammers so. Pick your poison.

yeah my favorite part of mumbomaid is that no one knows what a gender is and they misunderstand in all different ways you put it 100% perfectly. I also find Grian to be frustrating but he’s also a vessel to explore More Feelings and in his defense a little outside of complicated aro/allo interactions scar is a bit of an asshole. They are both assholes. Two guys they Will have their cake and they Will eat it too and they are exploding because of it. I too thank god every day I am not desert duo I! hate them. Generally though I do not feel bitter about allo misunderstandings of aromanticism because I spent 21 years of my life also not understanding. Which. Is the fault of a normative society. However. It is deeply difficult to understand the internal experience of someone who functions differently than you on a chemical level. This is a bit of a tangent but my mom and I’s ability to communicate has been drastically improved by the acceptance that I am autistic. She sees me and we reflect on my life together and it makes Sense that the way I experience the world is Different so whenever we talk about something my mom doesn’t understand in relation to me her mind is so open because she knows my perception of the world is not the same as hers. neurodivergence isn’t entirely related to queerness but it has genuinely opened up so many doors for our communication. she goes aromantic? oh yeah that makes sense. I think she catalogs it with the autism which is correct because to me autism and Every Other Way I Experience The World is related. This is say I have a very amusing experience with one of my trans friends where he was like: …so you’ve never questioned your gender,,, like…. Ever..? and I said nope. and he like couldn’t believe me. He did obviously but it’s the idea that our experiences are so integral to the people we are that it’s extremely difficult to imagine it any other way. can you tell I’m a psych major yet. what was I talking about.

I haven’t thought of exactly what bdubs thinks about etho’s past but it’s probably something like that. Deep down, it doesn’t really matter. Bdubs just wants to protect him. He’s so worried, but he just wants etho to feel safe.

lightly suggestive under the cut bc I talk about the monster fucking a little bit and I don’t know your age/if my elaboration is unwarranted I’m just talking. I’m here for a silly time not a sexy one.

monsterfucker scar is dear to me. extremely important. Grian will never be able to do to him the, frankly, deranged things he fantasizes about. they can try but the mood is going to be ruined when scar is like :( your tentacle dick isn’t real. and Grian is going to sigh with his dumbfuck strap and the blue curtains and lights they hung up to make it look like they were underwater. Their entire experience in the bedroom is going to be a series of extremely comedic extremely unfortunate events to make up for the fact that scar is never getting any fish pussy 😔 scar will be put off the mood because Grian just isn’t Convicning enough like COME ON if I don’t believe I’m going to die THEN what’s THE POINT??????? their home life is just increasingly deranged. grian has accepted that he will never be able to compete with the horrors of the ocean and you may think that’s a ‘but he’s still a little jealous though..’ but he’s not. He’s accepted it. Full acceptance. The kind of worn down you get from fishing for a mending book for weeks on end but without the agony and more just. Amused. goodtimeswithscar is going to die young and by drowning but you’d better believe he’ll do it in ecstasy.

#hermitcraft #suggestive #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #grian #scarian #hermitshipping

18 notes · View notes

arkanis-englishupdates · 6 days ago

Text

SUMMARY OF ALL ARKANIS POVS

DAY 77 — 19/11/2024

Valigma dawns peaceful but agitated, as usual.

Quel, who works at ValNews alongside Maethe, brings together all the interviews she did (with FunBABE and Nicklink) to include in the new edition of the newspaper (To write the newspaper, she uses the pseudonym "Leuq").

JVNQ (The real one) tells Guaxinim about everything that happened while he was sleeping.

Pac wakes up and soon receives a book from Leonardo, who says he needs a favor from Pac. He tells Pac to bring some items to a mysterious coordinate.

Wearing new clothes, Pac goes to the location indicated in the book, arriving at a huge castle/palace in the middle of the desert (This place is called Leonardo's Old Base).

At the location, Pac finds a book about a dagger he had received as a gift from Leonardo, with the weapon being described as a "Neutrarkanya dagger", a weapon that once belonged to an Obstinate, but due to a manipulation made by Leonardo, the dagger no longer has Arkanya embedded in it. Pac will then need to recharge the dagger with Arkanya on a pedestal as soon as he completes each new mission given by Leonardo ("After all, I won't give you Arkanya for free" "Fail at this [Mission] and, of course, you will be lost").

All specialists meet to talk in front of city hall. They discuss and theorize about what happened yesterday (With an amazing slideshow made by Bagi).

Suddenly the sky starts to turn pink and countless lightning strikes fall. The sky returns to normal soon after.

While the group was talking about the confused event had occurred, Samir appeared asking for help from the specialists. The entity then gives the group a coordinate, saying Moah needed their help.

The coordinates took the specialists towards a rustic house and the person who received them was none other than the captain of the boat from the first day, better known as Moah.

Moah receives all the specialists and talks about having left many things in "Old Valigma" (Context: Valigma was founded around a large mine that provided work and resources for the city, helping the economy. When the incident occurred in the mines, the citizens had to rebuild the city away from the mines).

While they were talking, Moah decided to take them to "Old Valigma" to look for everything that was lost in the ruins of the ancient city. Unfortunately, Araldo appears at the scene to stop Moah, choosing to kill him.

Moah dies coldly at the hands of Araldo, who leaves the specialists alone after that.

Unable to do anything to help, the group decides to regroup and explore Moah's house, finding some books there (I managed to get a photo of just one of the books to translate):

"Mom...

I don't know what else to do. I'm about to lose my job here in Valigma and, even worse, I'm going to be exiled. There's no way out for me, mom. I'm going have to leave and maybe I'll never come back.

I never thought things would get to this point, I'm desperate, feeling alone and lost. I really wanted things to be different... that we were in another Valigma, you know?

One where I didn't have to fight so much just to exist. I love you more than anything.

Moah."

In addition to this book, there was a video of the incident at Jota's parents house on the wall of the place. Suddenly, bombs and lava begin to fall on Moah's house, making the specialists have to leave the place in a hurry.

They decide to meet at City Hall to talk.

Suddenly, Araldo's robots begin to appear to attack the specialists, along with Araldo himself who launches several lightning strikes in their direction.

[Please, if any information is wrong or missing, let us know!]

#arkanis #arkanisgg #arkanis eng updates #mcyt

11 notes · View notes

self-loving-vampire · 2 months ago

Note

Scenario: This one is a little longer, but please be patient. You and your sisters have washed ashore in a strange land, after spending a few nights traveling by ship. It appears to be a continent you've never been to, so you set out to explore.

You discover that you've landed in the shores of a desert kingdom full of animal-human hybrids. They all seem oddly cold towards your party. Investigating further, the local sultan greets you warmly and with welcome arms. You all decide to take him up on his invitation, and are invited to a great feast as guests of honor.

The next morning, you wake up in chains in one, large, luxurious bed. What's more pressing, is that overnight you've developed the same animal features the rest of the inhabitants of this kingdom have, and are wearing gold and silk bikinis that accentuate your new parts. Your food was poisoned and you've been cursed. As if that weren't enough, as the day goes you all start feeling odd. It appears that you all have been charmed, so that you will never want to leave the sultan's harem. Some of you, but not all (perhaps only one) have managed to resist the charm spell. The ones who are now madly in love with the sultan are not in any way hostile.

From here:

What sorts of bodies do each of your sisters transform into? What do their outfits look like?

Which of you is most likely to resist the charm?

Whichever one(s) ends up with their mind intact will be in charge of helping free the other two, and later escape together. How does she or they go about freeing the others from their spell? What steps do you take to escape?

Do you cure both the animal curse and the charm? just one? neither? Which sister would pick which option?

Sharing with @cyberbun since she's the furry sister. Hope she writes her own thoughts in a reblog or something.

I think it makes sense to talk about the last point together with the first one because it would heavily depend on what the exact changes are. I am not into fur myself so if I ended up as a humanoid dog instead of just having dog ears and a tail I would definitely want to change that.

If we are getting more partial transformations then I don't think most of us would be very inclined to undo them unless there's some side effect we are worried about. I think even if it was transforming into furries/scalies it's going to be primarily me and the other me who have strongly negative feelings about looking like that and the others may not dislike it.

As usual, most of us would probably end up becoming dogs, with Jade as a snake and Lottie as a rabbit.

For clothing, I generally imagine this type of dancer outfit, with thin and transparent pieces of cloth covering only a few parts.

I know both versions of me would be very resistant to charming. It's usually the rule that enchantments that are in particularly high conflict with your usual self are easier to resist and create more points of friction that can lead to breaking the effect. Given that I'm narcissistic, suspicious of people, already devoted to someone else, averse to being touched by strangers, kind of repulsed by sex, and generally high in willpower I predict even if I didn't resist the charm outright it wouldn't take long before it comes into conflict with enough parts of me that the magic starts to break down on its own eventually.

From there I think releasing master and the others should not be too difficult, especially if I can pretend to still be charmed (easy for me) and dig around the sultan's palace. Possibly plan an assassination depending on what information I uncover. If the others still remember me while charmed that simplifies things too. I can remind them of the things they wanted to do that they are now barred from. Even while they are still controlled I can try to use them as cat's paws to make certain requests from the sultan through them that might sound suspicious coming from me.

I expect everyone in the group will want to be released, even the ones that really want to be mind controlled and made into trophies as a sort of stress relief, if it is the result of deception by a stranger.

I think part of the difficulty of the situation would come not just from breaking the curse but from escaping afterwards. It would be amateurish to neglect the final part of the plan and start winging it, so I would like to investigate the local politics and geography before I act. I should hopefully be able to plan a route out of the country and secure disguises.

How difficult all of that is may depend on how much freedom the wives get and whether or not third parties are less cold to us after the transformation. I wouldn't expect ideal circumstances there, but I can think of ways to get around the most obvious obstacles I'm expecting just by acting.

#long post

12 notes · View notes

warabidakihime · 1 year ago

Text

Resilience in the Rain

Characters: ADA!Dazai x Reader Synopsis: Amidst the downpour of life's trials, they found solace in each other's embrace within the quiet halls of the deserted Agency office. Alone, their love became a shelter in the storm, nurturing their resilience and kindling a flame of hope that could withstand any tempest. Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains themes of emotional distress, self-hatred, guilt, vulnerability, suicidal tendencies, self-harm, and suicide. It explores complex emotions and may depict scenes that involve these sensitive topics. If you or someone you know is struggling with these issues, please reach out to a mental health professional or helpline. A/N: I wanted to take a moment to chat with you about this fanfic. As someone who struggles with mental health, I've got a personal connection to the topic, and I really want to explore it in my own way. Mental health is important, and I want to raise awareness and offer some comfort to anyone who's going through a tough time.

Now, I gotta be real with you. This story touches on some heavy stuff. We're talking about emotions running wild, self-hatred, guilt, and all that messy stuff. It even dives into subjects like suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and suicide. But listen, I'm not here to glamorize or make light of these things. Instead, I wanna shed light on the struggles people face and emphasize the importance of seeking help and understanding.

While you're reading, please take care of yourself. If anything gets too overwhelming, reach out to a mental health pro or helpline. Remember, you're not alone, and there are folks out there who care and wanna help.

Thanks for joining me on this journey. Let's spread some awareness, empathy, and support for mental health, one chapter at a time!

P.S this wasn't proof read, so i'm sorry for any inconsistency. i was making this in the office lol.

The rain poured relentlessly, drenching the streets of Yokohama as the Armed Detective Agency headquarters stood steadfast amidst the downpour. After a particularly grueling mission, you couldn't contain your concerns and frustrations any longer. You found Dazai nursing his wounds in a dimly lit corner of the headquarters, a faint smile dancing on his lips. Meanwhile Kunikida and the others have already returned to their respectful dorms.

You approached him, your voice laced with worry. "Osamu, until when are you going to keep this up?"

Dazai glanced up, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Ah, my dear Y/N, are you worried about me? How sweet. But rest assured, I'm always one step away from the edge, and yet, I remain standing."

Dazai, with his usual nonchalant demeanor, brushed off your very valid concerns with another dark joke, but this time, it only fueled the fire within you. Your frustration reached its boiling point, and your voice rose, shaking with sheer frustration.

"Osamu!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the room. "Enough with the jokes and deflections! This isn't a game! Do you even realize how much your self-destruction tears me apart? How useless it makes me feel that I can't do anything to help you, despite giving my all?"

Dazai's mask faltered, revealing a flicker of vulnerability as your words struck home. But before he could respond, you continued, your voice filled with raw emotion.

"I love you, damn it! I love you more than anything, and yet you push me away with your reckless behavior. How can you disregard your own life, knowing that I'm right here, willing to stand by your side? It hurts, Osamu, to see you care so little about yourself, even when you have someone who would give anything to keep you safe!"

Your voice wavered, tears streaming down your face as you poured out your heart. The room grew heavy with silence as the weight of your words hung in the air. The truth had been laid bare, leaving Dazai with no choice but to confront the pain he had inflicted.

Dazai's eyes widened, his carefree facade crumbling further. He reached out, but the words escaped him, his throat tight with remorse. The realization of the magnitude of his actions crashed over him like a tidal wave, shattering the walls he had built.

"I... I didn't..." Dazai stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

But you weren't done yet. You took a step closer, your voice filled with a mix of anguish and determination.

"I can't watch you destroy yourself anymore, Osamu," you said, your voice firm. "I can't keep picking up the pieces of your shattered soul, only for you to throw them aside again. You need to make a choice, for your own sake and your sake only. Don’t you think it’s time to break this vicious cycle?"

Dazai's eyes glistened with unshed tears, his mask finally crumbling completely.

Venom started to bubble in his throat, causing him to hesitate before opening his mouth. Regret, self-hatred, helplessness, and guilt devoured him as he gazed at you through seemingly indifferent eyes that now glistened with unshed tears. The weight of your words, the pain etched on your face, and the love that had long been overshadowed by darkness crashed over him, leaving him vulnerable and broken.

In that moment, the walls he had built around his heart crumbled, and the armor he wore so proudly shattered, exposing the rawness of his emotions to the one person who had managed to touch his soul. You watched him, your heart aching but also hopeful. This was the moment of reckoning, the catalyst for change. You reached out, your hand hovering over his trembling shoulder, a silent offer of support.

"Osamu, my love," you said, your voice soft yet resolute. "You and I both know this can't go on. Sooner or later, we have to move forward. I'm not rushing you to heal, but I am urging you to start. Not just for me, but most especially for yourself."

The room fell into a heavy silence as Dazai wrestled with his emotions. Tears welled up in his eyes, the weight of his actions crashing down upon him. He sank to his knees, his trembling hands covering his face, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to consume him.

In that vulnerable moment, you approached him, your heart breaking for the man you loved. You knelt down beside him, your hand gently resting on his shoulder. Dazai looked up, his tear-streaked face revealing the pain he had long kept hidden.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he choked out, his voice raw and filled with regret. "I didn't realize how much my actions were hurting you. I never intended to make you feel useless or unimportant."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your own tears mingling with the raindrops falling outside. "Osamu, it's not about being useless. It's about sharing the burden and supporting each other through the darkest moments. I can't fix you, but I can be there for you. But you have to let me in."

Dazai clutched at your hand, his grip desperate yet filled with hope. "Y/N, I know where you're coming from; it's just that I've been a coward, avoiding the truth about myself and my emotions. I've been a bigger idiot for finding comfort in stagnation. But I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to face my fears, confront my flaws, and become the best version of myself."

The weight of his words hung in the air, a fragile promise of a brighter future. You both knew that healing wouldn't happen overnight and that the journey ahead would be filled with challenges and setbacks. But as you looked into Dazai's eyes, you saw a newfound determination, a flicker of the man he could and can become.

The rain had finally ceased, leaving behind a tranquil atmosphere in the aftermath of the storm. The Armed Detective Agency headquarters, once filled with tension, now carried a sense of calmness. You and Dazai found yourselves seeking serendipity in each other's presence, finding comfort in the quiet moments shared between the two of you.

As the last rays of moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow across the room, you approached Dazai. Your eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them. Without a word, you reached out and cupped his face tenderly, your thumb caressing his cheeks.

With a tender smile, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting in a gentle yet passionate kiss. It started as a simple connection, a way to affirm your love and draw strength from one another, as well as a promise that you would never, ever leave his side. As the kiss deepened, fueled by the pent-up emotions and desire, it threatened to escalate into something more fervent.

Yet, in that moment of intense connection, you pulled away, your breath mingling with Dazai's. You gazed into each other's eyes, your chests rising and falling in synchrony. You continue to graze your fingertips on Dazai's cheek, tracing the lines of his face as if committing every detail to memory.

He leaned into the touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. The weariness of the day, both physically and emotionally, weighed heavily on you both. The two of you had weathered the storm together and fought your battles, and now it was time to find solace in each other's arms.

His eyes searched yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of love, possessiveness, and a tinge of insecurity. His emotions, usually hidden behind a facade of nonchalance, were now laid bare before you.

"I love you, Y/N," Dazai whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "More than anything in this world, I can't bear the thought of losing you."

His words, filled with a newfound intensity, sent shivers down your spine. His usual cool and collected aura had transformed into a mix of passion and a touch of distress.

But instead of being scared or overwhelmed, you welcomed and embraced his heightened emotions. You understood that Dazai's love for you was profound, a force that consumed him and left him vulnerable. And you were more than ready to reciprocate, to ease his worries and soothe his restless soul.

"Osamu," you whispered, "I'm here, right here with you. I'm not going anywhere."

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, as if afraid that you might disappear if he let go. You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered, "You are the only one for me, Osamu. No matter what happens, I'll always be by your side."

As your words sank in, Dazai's tense posture began to relax. He realized that his fears and insecurities were unwarranted and that you were steadfast in your love for him. With a mix of relief and renewed determination, he kissed you once more, his lips conveying a mixture of passion and adoration.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you immersed in a bubble of love and trust. The room seemed to melt into a blur of colors as your bodies swayed with an unspoken rhythm, your connection deepening with every touch and caress.

As the kiss finally broke, you both were left breathless, your foreheads still pressed together. Dazai looked into your eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and adoration shining through his gaze.

"I don’t deserve you; you’re way too precious for someone like me, but thank you for loving me despite my flaws and for seeing the best in me. I promise to cherish you, protect you, and be the best version of myself for you," he murmured, his voice filled with reverence and devotion.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you were overcome by the profoundness of his words and the genuine emotion in his voice. "Deserve is such a powerful word, Osamu. There are countless individuals who are just as imperfect as we are, yet that doesn't automatically make us inherently wicked, right? I love every aspect of you, the parts you deem as flaws and virtues alike," you declared, your voice brimming with unwavering love.

Your words hung in the air, wrapping around them like a promise. In that intimate moment, both of you found strength, renewal, and a shared understanding. You knew the path ahead wouldn't be easy, but together, you were ready to face the challenges and forge a future built on love, trust, and healing.

With a smile, Dazai leaned in once again, capturing your lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss. It was a celebration of your love and an affirmation of the bond you had forged through the trials you faced.

And in that transformative moment, Dazai Osamu felt the weight of his burdens lift, liberated from the shackles that had bound him for so long. And it was all thanks to you.

After an eventful day at the ADA office, you and Dazai finally retreated to the comfort of your apartment, seeking peace and quiet. The chilly evening air prompted you to opt for a heartwarming hotpot dinner, a perfect choice to warm your souls.

As you set the table with an array of fresh ingredients and fragrant broths, Dazai made a sly gesture, revealing a hidden stash of sake. Your eyebrows shot up in a mixture of surprise and amusement, realizing the ungodly amount of alcohol he had squirreled away. With a deadpan expression, you couldn't help but playfully scold him for his excess.

You knew that part of Dazai's healing journey involved acknowledging and breaking free from his unhealthy habits, and excessive drinking was one of them. With genuine concern, you made it clear to him that going forward, he needed to be mindful of his alcohol intake. Dazai's playful pout surfaced, but beneath it, he understood and appreciated your intentions. He promised to be more mindful of his health, realizing the importance of taking care of himself.

As the evening unfolded, the apartment filled with a harmonious symphony of laughter and lighthearted banter. You and Dazai reveled in each other's company, sharing inside jokes and good-natured jabs. The stresses of the day melted away, replaced by a sense of comfort and contentment.

With every hearty slurp of hotpot and every sip of sake, the bond between you grew stronger. The shared meal became a symbol of nourishment not only for the body but also for the soul. As the day drew to a close, you found solace in the simple pleasures of being together, basking in the warmth of laughter and the undeniable connection that bound you.

#this is pretty much self-indulging lol #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai fluff #dazai comfort #dazai x you #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #osamu dazai x you #i want this for me ngl

128 notes · View notes

ey2doszm · 2 years ago

Note

Heyy, I'm obsessed with your last Sunghoon fanfic. I personally think it's soo hot. And i want to read more of your Sunghoon works, so i have a suggestion.

Okay so the reader is walking home from a friend's place when they hear a beep from behind. They turn around to see Sunghoon, their long-time crush. Sunghoon asks if they want to take a ride with him, and the two of them start making out passionately in his car and then the rest is yoursss!

I hope you would notice meee

The Steamy Encounter | PSH | 18+

pairing: Enha Sunghoon x Reader

genre: Smut

warnings: Car sex, Unprotected sex, Oral, Slight soft and rough, Late night sex , etc.

wc: 0.7k

note: This is such a good idea! I hope this will be good enough ^^

It was a beautiful summer evening, and you were walking back home from a friend's place. As you were walking, you heard a beep from behind. You turned around to see a black car parked on the side of the road. It was Sunghoon, your long-time crush, who you had not seen in a while.

He rolled down his window and called out to you, "Hey, do you want to take a ride with me?"

Without a second thought, you hopped into his car, and you guys started driving around the city. You talked about everything, from your favorite movies to your dreams and aspirations. As the night went on, the conversation became more and more intimate.

As you drove down a deserted alley, Sunghoon pulled over to the side of the road. He turned to you with a mischievous smile and said, "I have been wanting to do this for a long time."

Before you knew it, you were making out passionately in his car. The windows were fogged up, and the car was filled with the sounds of your moans and heavy breathing. The chemistry between you and Sunghoon was electric, and it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and you climbed on top of him, straddling him in the driver's seat. It was as if time had stopped, with nothing else in the world mattering except for the two of you in that moment. His hands explored every inch of your body, sending shivers down your spine and making you feel more alive than ever before. As the minutes ticked by, you felt yourself becoming more and more aroused, you body responding to his every touch.

As you and Sunghoon continued to explore each other's bodies, Sunghoon's hands found their way to your panties, and he started rubbing your clit with his fingers. It was an electrifying sensation that seemed to consume your entire being, and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each passing moment. His touch was both gentle and firm, and it was clear that he knew exactly how to please you. Both of you let out a loud moan as you came all over his hand, your body writhing with pleasure.

Without missing a beat, Sunghoon unbuckled his pants, and you eagerly took his hard cock into your mouth. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, and you knew you needed him inside.

Both of you quickly shifted positions, and you bent over the back seat of the car as Sunghoon entered you from behind. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but scream out in pleasure. As you moved your hips to match his rhythm, you couldn't help but think about how much you had wanted this moment with him. The way his hands gripped your hips sent shivers down your spine, and you let out a moan as he picked up the pace. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you knew that it wouldn't be long before you was pushed over it.

Sunghoon’s breath was hot on your neck, and you could feel his chest pressed against your back as the both of you moved together to the rhythm of your passion. It was a moment of pure ecstasy that you never wanted to end.

You continued to have sex with each other like wild animals, your passionate desires consuming the both of you. You were both so lost in the heat of the moment that you couldn't control yourselves. As you both approached your climax, Sunghoon pulled out, his warm breath heavily panting on your neck.

He then proceeded to take his time coming all over your back, the hot liquid slowly trickling down your skin, leaving you feeling alive and satisfied. Y'all collapsed onto the backseat, sweaty and exhausted, but completely satisfied. As the both of you caught your breath, y'all knew that this would not be the last time you'll explore each other's bodies. As you lay there, breathing heavily, you couldn't help but think that this was the best sex you've ever had in your life.

feedback and notes are always appreciated ! let me know what you thought of this. :)

#enha smut #kpop #enhypen #enhypen smut #smut #enha x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon smut

256 notes · View notes

askganon · 8 months ago

Note

Great King, What do you enjoy to eat? I'm not asking a simple icebreaker question I should be clear. In my opinion, one of if not THE greatest pleasures in life, more than physical desires, is easily food. You've lived through literally countless eras, not years or decades but ERAS, and you've traveled just as much as you've lived, the amount of history and experience you have in anything is sure to be boundless and priceless let alone on something as culturally and physically important as not just food for survival, but food for pleasure. A good meal can not only provide sustenance, nutrients to strengthen and nurture the body but a good meal can also fix, or break, any spirit or moral. A dish can also tell the entire history of a person, nation or even an entire people. You're a very large man and not to mention a very, very active warrior so I can imagine that you've had to learn of ways to not only replenish your strength while also enjoying a meal fit for the greatest of kings. You've talked at length many a time on Gerudo cuisine, and don't get me wrong I'd always love to hear more, but I also know you're a wise and cultured man with a broad mind who's explored palettes as much the lands and time itself. I want to hear about your more adventurous expeditions in the culinary frontiers. I wish to know what tastes you find pleasant, what you find repulsive, what you initially thought lesser of but was pleasantly surprised by, do you prefer the sweeter tastes? The soft, sweet taste of a smooth honey or a rough sugary explosion? What things had greater value, were they good for the body or the soul? The mind or the heart? Do you lean towards more savory, rich dishes or more hearty meals? There are a million different ways one can prepare an apple all with drastically different and hardly resembling one another. Those arent exactly what I mean to ask but are just examples, I seek something far more abstract. I seek any and all knowledge you're willing to give about food and am especially interested in your experiences further away from the comfort of the familiar.

Eating is necessary for survival. This was the way when I was a youth. It was only when I was filly grown and had already infiltrated the realm and castle of Hyrule did I learn kg eating for pleasure.

While I have already had meals that pleased me greatly within the desert, the idea of living to eat rather than eating to live was foreign to me completely.

However, it is as you say. Over the millenia, I have sampled many varieties of dishes and many more flavors.

I can honestly say, as I have before, that Goron cuisine is not fit for those who cannot digest rock. They also require incredibly high heat to cook their... Minerals, so even tasting such dishes can be hazardous to one's health.

Hylian delicacies are, as I have said, quite bland. They have plenty in butters and salts and herbs, but lack in spice and spirit. For this, I find their dishes dull.

Zoran cuisine tool longest to understand, and delight in the mixing of salted and spur, bur they have masters the blend, and have made sea-born food palatable to thise of the desert.

#ganondorf #legend of zelda

20 notes · View notes

pardi-real · 9 months ago

Text

Honeymoon Knight / Chapter 6 - Beautiful Garden

Prev | All | Next

~ Later ~

We left Velis and arrived at ‘Rosetown’, a town near the southern desert. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers, and colorful roses were in full bloom.

Accompanied by the second-floor butlers, I headed to the garden of the ‘Lonestar Residence’.

[Lonestar Residence - Rose Garden]

Ammon: "No matter how many times you see it, this garden is beautiful."

> "Indeed"

Ammon: "The upkeep is top-notch, and the roses are showing off their full bloom... …Sigh. It's a bit irritating for me, being in charge of a garden myself.”

Boschi: "Is that so? Our mansion's garden is beautiful enough. I don't think we're losing."

Ammon: "What's with you, Mr. Boschi? Suddenly saying something nice."

Boschi: "Tch. Annoying, don't come near me."

Muu: "Mr. Boschi is kind in his own way."

> "I think so too" > "It sounds better when it's not overly flattering"

Boschi: "Hey, Muu. What are you whispering about with the lord?"

Muu: "Fufufu. I was just complimenting you, Mr. Boschi!"

> "Fufu..."

Fennesz: "But, Ammon is really something else. You're still that motivated, even in front of such a splendid noble's garden... still wanting to win."

Ammon: "Really? Well, Mr. Fennesz, you're pretty impressive too."

Fennesz: "Huh? Me?"

Ammon: "I've felt a strong passion from you lately. Even during mock battles... Your desire to win is apparent. Seems like you've gone through some changes. When it comes to the drive for improvement... I gotta say, you're pretty amazing yourself, Mr. Fennesz. You're also stepping up your training, right?”

> "Is that so..."

Fennesz: "Well, but I still have a long way to go."

Boschi: "Since you came back from the Black and White Palace... you've changed a bit, haven't you?"

Fennesz: "I-is that so?"

Haures: "Hm... From here on, Fennesz will become even stronger. I can't afford to lose either."

Fennesz: "Haures..."

Boschi: "Sigh... It's good to talk passionately, but... are we going to stand here talking forever? The lord must be bored."

Haures: "Oops... that's true. My apologies, my lord."

> "It's okay, don't worry about it" > "It was quite fun listening to you guys"

Haures: "Thank you."

Fennesz: "Today, the second-floor butlers will spend time with the lord, so… let's have a good time."

> “Likewise, let's enjoy"

Boschi: "Since we've come to Lonestar's garden, why not take a walk while admiring the beautiful roses?"

> "Sure"

Ammon: "Then, my lord, please come this way."

And so, we all decided to explore the garden together.

~ A little while later ~

Muu: "By the way, there are so many beautiful roses here!"

Ammon: "The climate in Rosetown is suitable for roses. Especially this season... I think it's the most beautiful throughout the year."

Muu: "Wow, I see!"

Ammon: "Having this gorgeous garden to ourselves is pretty awesome!”

Fennesz: "Last time, when we came in February... it was during the noble's Valentine's party."

Boschi: "Now that I remember, back then... didn't the lord and the butlers from the third floor get involved with the nobles?"

> "That's right..." > "Back then, huh..."

Haures: "Later on... I heard from Lamli. the lord stood up for the butlers against the nobles."

> "I couldn't… stand it at that moment..."

Haures: "It was truly heartwarming. It made me realize once again how much you care about us. I haven't had the chance to express my gratitude directly, so... please let me express it now. Thank you very much."

Fennesz: "Thank you, my lord."

> "You don't have to thank me that much…!"

Haures: "However, about that... If I say this, it might make the lord feel guilty. But… I should let the lord know... Please be careful not to confront the nobles too strongly. They have high pride, and in this world, they have power. If their dignity is hurt and they get angry… I don't know what they might do. ……I've experienced it firsthand.”

> "Haures..."

Haures: "Of course, it might just be groundless worry. But for the lord's safety, I felt it necessary to convey this."

> "I see" > "Thank you, Haures"

Fennesz: "However, Mr. Lucas also mentioned this... the lord doesn't need to worry that much. In reality, even though the nobles have a higher status, if you compare the positions of us devil butlers, it's not like we're completely their subordinate. Both the nobles and us… can only maintain the balance because there's mutual trust. So... please don't worry too much about it. Confrontations that might harm us won't happen that easily… Please be at ease."

> "Okay"

Haures: “Sorry, Fennesz, I made you have to say that. My way of speaking may have caused unnecessary anxiety for the lord."

Fennesz: "Nuh-uh, it's okay. I think the lord understands, but... just in case, I wanted to add that anyway."

Boschi: "Well, I'm not a fan of this phrase, but 'don’t go against the tide'. Sure, standing up is important depending on the time and situation though..."

> "Boschi..."

Boschi: "That said, I have no problem with what you did for us. Rather, it was refreshing."

> "Yeah..."

Ammon: “Anyway, my lord, you're fine just the way you are. If you ever face an opponent you shouldn't confront... We'll protect you and intervene! Right, Mr. Haures?"

Haures: "Yeah. Thank you, Ammon. We will protect the lord's safety. So please, rest assured."

> "Thank you, guys"

Ammon: "Alright, enough with the serious stuff! Let's switch gears to something more fun. Oh… there's a nice spot over there. Say, my lord, how about having some tea over there?”

I looked in the direction Ammon pointed and saw a table with a roof. It was the spot where the third-floor butlers and I took a break the last time we were here.

> "Sounds good...!" > "Let's do that"

Ammon: "Great, that settled it then."

Haures: "In that case, I'll prepare the tea."

Fennesz: "Mr. Berrien should be bringing the tea set. I'll go get it."

Boschi: "Well then, I'll go to Lono's place... and get some sweets. The sweets were prepared… just in case the lord feels like having tea."

Muu: "Um! I want to help too!"

Fennesz: "Sure, can you come with me, Muu?"

Muu: "Yes!"

And so, we spent a delightful teatime in the beautiful garden. The tea and sweets prepared by the second-floor butlers were all delicious, and it was truly a wonderful time.

note: black and white palace has its own event, basically the devil butlers (Lono, Lamli, Haures, Fennesz) went to visit a good old noble friend's funeral in Espoir.

Prev | All | Next

#aknk #honeymoon knight #Still the lord for the current result

24 notes · View notes

sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 2 years ago

Text

Let's settle down for the night.

Quick summary: You’ve been each other’s for a long time. You trust him with your life, your body, you time, and he trusts you with his. Sometimes, though, you find yourself craving a quieter kind of intimacy. Without the helmet.

Word count: 6.3K

Warnings: A lot of fluff 😩😩; may be inaccurate ‘cause, I gotta say, I’m a Star Wars fan but I did not proper hyperfixate on it like with some of the other stuff I’ve written about (buffs, please help me out here); kind of angsty??? like, reader’s an orphan etc; allusions to smut (under the shirt stuff amiright amiright); explicit mentions of smut.

A/N: What a fittie, guys. Bound to happen. This one goes out to @manicdream for giving me a lil’ prompt where you and Din are in looove aaaand—I guess you’ll have to keep reading for the fluuuff and feels! I really had fun with this one! Love this stoic, brooding, dramatic lad, and I enjoyed exploring love languages, their communication, etc, etc. i have no idea when this would take place, so just try to follow along, I guess??? I hope you enjoy this short, little story! I think this is gonna be just one part by the way. For all you Pedro Pascal sluts out there 😌😌😌, I do think I’m gonna write a smut thing for Joel Miller TLOU. NO PROMISES, THOUGH. Just finished the latest episode and what the fuck 😀😀😀 it just gets more and more traumatising huh. Anyway, please enjoy this happy fic!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

We’ve been walking for a while, now. Muscles aching, legs straining. The low, sloping sands of the Tatooine desert are pink in the setting suns, stretching on for years and years.

The light flames up brilliant red and orange and bright white in his beskar, and I have to squint my eyes when I look over at him. From this angle, he looks like he’s all armour. When the suns finally go down, he’ll be a silhouette. That time of day always suits him best. You know how people you meet just seem like things sometimes. Din’s like rich soil, the kind that you can sink your fingers deep into with one single push. Or like a rock – with how little he talks, I used to think he was a rock. He’s also dusk. Dusk happens to be my favourite time of day.

My feet are dragging again. If I were with anyone else, I’d never let my guard down—but it’s just us, and we’re in the middle of nowhere, and we’ve got a whole bunch of credits in my pack that’s almost enough to finally buy us our own ship. Won’t have to put up with sceptical glances on commercial flights anymore, or getting bashed about by produce on cargo ships we’ve had to sneak onto. Maker, I miss the comfort of the Razor Crest. But, y’know, it’s—it’s what it is. Lucky for us, transportation is the worst of our problems – it’s been a relatively quiet trip over the planet; no trouble—yet. Quietly trading with sketchy contractors in isolated taverns. We never ask questions about the high-paying ones, whether we’re implicitly tipping the scales of some political bantha shit, but I’m always curious.

A dry gust of wind cools my stifling skin, a break from the still weather.

“You alright back there?”

Din has his head angled slightly back towards me. His grainy, modulated voice curves my mouth up into a smile, and I stare fondly over at him as he slows his pace a little to fall into step with me. I urge him not to slack with the jerk of my head.

“Yeah, ‘f’course,” I assure him, tongue buzzing with foul saliva. Can’t drink just yet, though, ‘cause I already chugged about half of my waterskin way back at sun-up. He’s offered me the rest of his, but I refused to take it. Though, right now, grimacing at the bile in my mouth, I am thinking hard about changing my mind. “We’re safe,” I say confidently. We’ve been careful.

“I know.” Yeah, I know he knows. “I was just wonderin’ cause, y’know, you’ve been a little quiet.”

Playfully, I nudge into him (damn that beskar) and laugh as he shoves me back. “What, so you’re saying you want my ‘mindless chit-chatting’ back now, huh?”

I’m talking out of my ass, of course. We’ve had a thing going for a while, now – it’s been just us for a while. I know he doesn’t mean any harm when he teases me like that. It takes a lot for him to hurt my feelings, and he never does. Maybe at first, when neither of us would admit that we were happier being together than apart. I don’t know why I didn’t just tag along with him sooner. If I had known that those gruff, little grunts he’d make during conversation when we’d cross paths during jobs meant that he was enjoying himself?—well, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time in asking him to be my partner. In all senses.

But still, he feels the need to explain: “Ah, you know I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I suppose that, after so long needing to be strong and tough and brave and coarse to get on with life and work, he likes being soft. This is soft for him: letting me walk ahead just slightly, his shoulder behind mine, so that he’s always got my six; teasing me about things he’s told me are his favourite qualities of mine; secretly watching me from behind the security of his visor. I don’t tell him I love it, and I don’t tell him I notice, but he knows, I think.

He turns away to complete a quick scan of the horizon on his blind side, and I do the same for mine, before we turn back to each other. He’s tired – I can tell by the way he’s leaning in towards me, like he wants to be held. The privacy of this big, wide desert must be a comfort to him. I know it is to me.

“How’s your day been?” he asks me lowly.

I laugh. “You mean the day we’re currently spending together?”

He nods. “Tell me about it.”

Stars, I’m glad it’s getting dark, because my cheeks start to glow with warmth. Not necessarily just his voice or even the words. Consistently, he always asks about my day. Yesterday, it was in a dingy tavern, after avoiding a bar fight (some prick tried to trick me out of a drink the contractor bought me fair ‘n’ square). The day before, it was in the dead of night, looking up at the stars, with the bounty, unconscious, lying between us.

“I liked it.” He scoffs. “I did. There’s been no trouble, and, y’know, I grew up on a desert planet like this.”

“Bantha farmers, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He grunts.

I laugh again. “You bastard! You’re so judgemental. Honestly worse than those Coruscanti pricks we worked for ages back. Remember how they looked at us when we traded? Tried to underpay us? Bet they’ve never risked even chipping a nail.” Bounty hunting is a little more difficult these days without the assurance of carbonite freezing, without the security of the Guild – we’ve had to complete ten times as many jobs for five times lesser rates just to get where we are now. Reminds me of when I first started out: bounties fighting back, trying to make a run for it. But what else are we supposed to do?—take up a job where?

The suns slip below the horizon, and everything is washed a low, gentle violet—and Din is that silhouette, now, and everything seems peaceful, like it all fits together just right. Even though, of course, it might not fit together just right when I try to haggle the price of that gunship down a few credits or so and the vendor absolutely obliterates me with the most personal, cutting insults in the entire galaxy. Din’s no help in the communication sector there – the stoic type – but, if anything, he’ll be able to stand behind me with that armour and steel glare and weapons of his to try and intimidate that damn stubborn seller all the way to fuckin’ Bargain Town. Because, damn, we’re relying on it. Peli, bless her soul, doesn’t have anything large or powerful enough to support the three of us on our run from the Empire.

Speaking of the three of us, the kid’s absence, I hate to say it, is kind of nice. Of course, I worry about him, but I trust that he’s being well-looked-after at the garage. Safer than he would be with us. But I haven’t had Din to myself in what seems like years. Last time he touched me was—was—a long time ago. Too much stress. Not enough time to savour it. And he’s all about savouring those kind of things, those moments, dragging them out as long as possible.

I can feel his stare on the side of my face. My sweaty, greasy, clogged face – stars, I can’t wait until we reach a water supply.

“Are you looking at me right now?” I ask, amused.

He does another strategically-timed scan of the area, turning away from me even though I can’t see his face. I wonder if he blushes under that helmet, if it’s really obvious. “You’re looking at me.”

I roll my eyes and smile softly, lowering the scarf around my nose and mouth and tucking the fabric beneath my chin. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Good why?”

“‘Cause I’ve got your mindless chit-chattin’ to keep me company.”

Forcing a laugh, I glare at him again. “Ha-ha, you’re so funny, Din. Real knee-slapper right there.”

It goes quiet again – he becomes like that, sometimes, after I use his name. The first time I spoke it was in the dark hull of the Razor Crest, in hyperspace. He sat and stared straight ahead at the streaking silver, motionless, wordless. Here, the desert air is still and calm. His shoulder is still brushing up against mine.

“Are you tired?”

Yes. My legs feel like they’re about to fuckin’ fall off. Here, walking along the plain, is good, but earlier, climbing over dunes and rocks and boulders, was hell. But we need to be getting back to the kid as soon as possible. As much as I trust Peli, I need to see him and make sure he’s okay. So, I shake my head and say, “It’s only a little ways up till the next settlement.”

“It’s a lot further.”

My heart drops. “Oh.” Wishful thinking’s just got me forging fake memories at this point. My knees threaten to buckle beneath me.

“D’you think we should stop?”

“No, we can—”

“I’m tired—” he abruptly comes to a halt, apparently deciding that this little patch of sand will be a nice bed, “—let’s stop for the night.” He beckons me to him, coming in close and retrieving the lamp from inside the sling-bag, setting it down.

Well, if he insists.

You know, it’s moments like these where I just let myself be fond of him. I let myself stare freely at him, admire the shape of his body, the sleek, smart make of his helmet, let myself wonder if his face is any bit as handsome as he sounds. Everything about him is rough. The way he fights, the way he bargains, the way he pilots. His hands. I think about the texture of his hands as I sit down. I remove my gloves and stuff them away, gliding my skin across my skin to just try and simulate that touch.

“You’re not cold?”

I untwine the bag from my shoulders, setting it down and retrieving our remaining food for this day. “I’m not cold. I have, like, five layers on.”

He eyes me doubtfully. “Okay.” And he sits down on the opposite side of the lamp, facing me, one leg propped up as a rest for his arm. The pulse rifle lays by his side, ready.

I offer him a hardening clump of bread and a few stout, odd-looking, white-and-purple vegetables (generously given to us by a farmer we passed a while back)—but Din shakes his head and urges me to eat as much as I can. I bite back a remark about that helmet of his – he must be starving.

“We’ll get something better to eat when we get to the city.”

I snort. “It’s hardly a city.”

“You know what I mean.”

Stupid Din always making stupid decisions and rationalising them because he thinks it’s for me. He knows I can take care of myself, that I’m good at it, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping everything to try. It’s nice for someone to have my back, for that someone to be as wonderful as him, but, holy kriff, he’s so stupid sometimes.

I tell him flat-out, “We don’t have enough credits,” because we don’t. We have barely enough to cover a scrappy, little ship. We definitely don’t have enough to purchase any food. We’ve relied on favours and luck for long enough, and we can go for longer until we’re off-planet. Peli’s got—edible food—probably. I don’t trust it won’t make me shit my brains out as soon as we’re in hyperspace, though.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, though. “We’ll get a worse ship.”

“Din.” Stupid. I toss him a chunk of bread, swivelling around to give him privacy.

He protests, “I’m not hungry,” and reaches over and taps it against my shoulder – I shrug him away.

“I’m already stuffed, so what’re you gonna do about it?”

He sighs in exasperation. “Thought you might say that.”

“‘Cause I’m just so predictable?”

“You’re stubborn.”

Snapping my head over my shoulder, I scoff and give him an incredulous look. “I’m stubborn?”

He tilts his head to the side as if to goad me further. “Yes.” The warm light of the lamp glows along the strong planes and clean lines of his armour. His hand leisurely dangling from his knee, he rubs his gloved fingers together, and I’m suddenly jealous of a clothing item. I know he must notice the slight catch in my breath.

I turn back around to face him, the sand moulding easily beneath my smooth movements. “And there’s not a brooding Mandalorian sitting across from me now, refusing to eat.”

The first few years of working with Din, I never once saw him eat or drink a thing. It was like he was a droid (don’t tell him I said that): always working, working hard, but fuelled by seemingly—nothing? Obviously, I figured he had to eat some time. When I became his partner, sharing the Razor Crest, he’d retreat to his bunk to eat. And when I asked him his favourite food, he said he didn’t really hate or love anything – as long as he could consume it and it wouldn’t kill him, he’d tolerate it. Over the years, though, I’ve learned he tries to steer clear from any kind of berries. Doesn’t trust ‘em. And he’s not a fan of fish, but the kid is, and I am, so we have it more often, now.

Din jerks his head and allows me to toss him one of those weird vegetables. Having already finished my chunk of bread (on the brink of mould—so yummy!), I take a large, eager bite right out of the vegetable. My mouth is flooded with its bitter juice, and I squint my face up a little at the greenish tang.

“How’s that taste?” he asks.

“Like dirt.” I chew the mouthful slowly, careful not to judge too quickly, and eventually hum in contentment. “But—” I retract, “—sorta sweet underneath. You ever tasted a beet?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s sorta like that.”

He watches me for a few heartbeats, calm in the steady, amber light. I smile at him.

“Turn around,” he tells me brusquely.

I wink at him and do as I’m told, shuffling around again and turning to back the blue and purple horizon, the lamp and his gaze warm on my back.

I’m silent as he unseals his helmet with a quiet click and hiss. I try to imagine him again. Every single time, I feel guilty over it, because I know how dedicated he is to his religion—but, oh, I can’t help myself. I run my tongue over my teeth, enjoying the remains of that bite, before taking another, crunching down into the flesh. As I do, I hear Din do the same. My heart stops a little in my chest, and I let out a slow breath.

“It’s nice.”

Stars. Stars, that voice. His voice, unfiltered by the modulator. Slightly hoarse from lack of water, scraping a little in his throat, but smooth in its low, rich tone. Like dirt you can sink your fingers right down into.

I set my hand flat on the sand my by side before pushing them vertically down, down, down, past the cooling surface and to where the glowing spirit of the day lingers.

Calm yourself down. It’s just a voice.

“You should have the rest of it,” he continues, and there’s the tap of the vegetable against my shoulder again.

Oh, stars. He hasn’t got his helmet on. He hasn’t got his helmet on. If I turned, he could be right there. Just him. I think about clamping my eyes shut to avoid the temptation of looking at him, but I can’t really co-ordinate myself at the moment. He taps again, encouraging me to take it back. My fingers hook up inside the sand, and it slips around me to my satisfaction.

“If you like it,” I say dryly, “you should eat it.”

The vegetable disappears from my peripheral. Another crunch, and another, and another. We sit in silence as he finishes it. The horizon is finally flat and unwavering in the cool of the night.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze when he’s done, hiking up the scarf around my head so it doesn’t slip too far over my hair. When I turn around, the helmet’s back on.

I wonder if he saw the colours of the sunset earlier. I had my head turned up for hours, watching every single shift in pink and orange and blue with wonderstruck eyes—but Din was striding on ahead, uninterested. I’m no engineer, alright? I don’t exactly know what he’s seeing in that helmet of his, or why. Infrared sensors for tracking, like in a rifle I once had that – that was one of the best damn weapons I ever owned, guaranteed to locate and hit your target, and I loved it to bits—until it got fuckin’ stolen by a bunch of fuckin’ Jawas. Point is, isn’t it just black and white in there? Sort of a purple-y black and white, and you can see changes in tone and depth and all, but black and white nonetheless. Red for footprints, though. Is that what he saw when I told him to look at the sky at sundown? Black and white? What is he seeing as he’s looking at me now? Me, I’m admiring the regal gleam of his beskar again. But he won’t be able to interpret the warmth of the lamp’s light on my face the same way as I did for him. I’m not the prettiest in the galaxy by a long shot, I know, but isn’t he missing out? On the beauty of the natural world? I think I’m prettiest at sundown – something in my undertone, I dunno – but he’s only seen me in that greyscale. Imagine if he just thinks I’m—okay-looking.

Overthinking it again. Din doesn’t waste time with things he doesn’t think add to his life. He doesn’t think I’m just okay-looking.

“You’ve got a good voice,” I tell him, grinning widely.

“You’ve heard my voice before.” The raw clarity of his words are lost once again behind the modulator. I shift my position, wriggling away from my disappointment.

“I know.”

A chill passes brightly through the air, and I tug my cloak tighter around myself, bringing my knees in close. Din doesn’t move a muscle, though, and he sits there and observes me a little longer.

We’ve been each other’s for a long, long time. We’ve been through a lot of shit together. And I’m not exactly thinking critically, and I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but I find myself asking, “When Mandalorians get married, they can take their helmets off around their partner, right?”

The mortification immediately sets in.

Holy kriff.

Din looks at me carefully. Then, he nods the slightest of nods.

Holy kriff.

“I’m not—” I stutter out, eyes darting away, over there, over here, anywhere but his constant, steady, shameless attention, “—‘m not asking you to marry me, Din. I was—I was just wondering ‘cause, y’know, I think you mentioned it to me once, ages back, and—and I was just thinkin’ that maybe—” you pause, glancing up at him; he doesn’t move a muscle, and there’s nothing that gives away any kind of anything he might be feeling, “—maybe I’d like to see—what—you—look—like.”

Wow. Wow, I’m almost amazed at how slick I am with these things. God, Imperial spies could learn a thing or two from the master.

I clear my throat, deciding to embrace the grave I’ve dug for myself. “But I’m not asking you to marry me, so you can stop looking at me like that, now, alright?.”

He says nothing, does nothing.

I situate myself with untying my waterskin from beneath my cloak, hiding my face in my shoulder and cursing, “Damn voice. Gets me too damn stupid-excited,” under my breath, like it’s a secret, like he can’t hear every fuckin’ word I’m saying on a planet seemingly stripped from all other noise.

Seething at myself, I crunch back into my vegetable, then tearing off a piece of bread to stuff in alongside it, taking a careless swig from my waterskin to wash it all down. Honestly, at this point, I’d rather die from dehydration than address the awful, awful statement I just made. Stars. Probably scared him right off. We’re as close to married as the real thing anyway. Din’s more of an actions-over-words kind of guy – I don’t need to call him my husband. It’s not like—well, marriage is companionship, and we have that already. Marriage is trust, and we have that already. I don’t need to call him my husband. He’s just—my guy. My person. Would be nice to have it on paper, I guess. Proof that he’s my person, that he wants to be my person. Bless him, but for every single thing he does for me, every action, I still crave him saying those words. Not shit to do with marriage, exactly. Just: “You’re my person. I’m yours.” Words aren’t his forte.

“I’d marry you.”

I swallow the hard lump of bread with difficulty, scrunching my face up into a grimace. “Hmm?” I ask, drifting back to the present.

“I’d marry you,” he repeats, and my eyes go wide. Oh. “Right here. If you want me.”

Huh. Huh. I dunno what the appropriate reaction is here, so I just continue staring unblinkingly at him. My stomach is erupting in flutters, and I just stare at Din.

Then, I look around us, at the barren desert. And look, yeah, I grew up on a planet very similar to Tatooine, and, yeah, sure, I have fond memories of my childhood. And then they get not-so fond. I scrunch my nose up in disapproval. “Not here.”

“Where?”

I shrug, brows knitted together in deep consideration. “I dunno.” And I really don’t, because—because I didn’t think we were the marrying type. Just the together type. Growing old and pissy together, living together, fighting together, figuring it out together—type. Mandalorians value community and strength and The Way over everything else – not necessarily love. Didn’t take him for the marrying type.

I screw my mouth together and exhale deeply. “Just somewhere prettier, I guess,” I decide on. “Not this quiet, but still pretty quiet. Y’know, somewhere with trees. Proper, green trees. But not the kind where there’s stuff in there waiting to kill you.” I want there to be as many colours as possible, in the sky, in the flowers, so he can see me and see all that beauty all together at once.

He tilts his head. “Like, with mountains?” he asks.

I smile. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind mountains.”

He glances down at the sand, tracing some kind of pattern into it with his forefinger. “We could go to Takodana?”

Stars. My smile widens. Stars, is this a proposal? Did I just propose to him? Did he just propose right back? That’s actually quite funny, that is. In the middle of nowhere, running out of water, running low on food. Romantic.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Din?” I ask, more confident.

He grunts and shakes his head. “Not really.”

“‘Not really’,” I mock him, deepening my voice and attempting to widen the shoulders. I laugh at my own impression, leaning back on my hands and huffing a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifts, clearing his throat and adjusting to a more comfortable position. “I mean, I’ve kissed you—between your legs,” he tells me, nervous, like I’ve managed to forget how well he treats me, how eager he is to kneel down in the pitch-black and take care of me like that.

Heat blooms in my stomach. “Great work down there, by the way,” I tell him through a sly grin.

“Thank you, mesh’la.” Is he blushing? Does he blush? I find myself wondering over that again.

I smile and stare at him.

“Could I kiss you?” The suggestion just slips out without a second thought. I just think that, after some food and water and rest, I don’t really have to filter anything out anymore. I don’t have any complaints – just some recommendations for fun we could be having.

Din doesn’t reply.

Ah, shit. Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me? Mandalorian, remember? Stupid, stupid. If there’s anything anyone knows about Din, it’s that he’s a Mandalorian first. He’s a Mandalorian before he’s mine – he’d never say it out loud, but we both know it’s true. I’d never ask him to choose because that’s cruel. Am I being cruel?

Either way, I can’t seem to stop, and I don’t seem to care: “I’d keep my eyes shut,” I blurt out, trying to keep my breathing from becoming heavy with lust, and failing a little more than a little bit. Stars, I’m turning myself on at this point; he just has to sit there and look pretty. “You know I’d keep ‘em shut. I wouldn’t look. I just—wanna—” you sigh, “—I just wanna kiss you. It’s nice, I swear. Nice feeling. I’d keep my eyes closed. Or—or you could tie something around ‘em?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Stars,” I curse. “I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes from dust and dirt and blink hard. “I think I’m just tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Is ‘tired’ why you’re pressing onto yourself down there?”

He flicks his fingers over to where I’ve got my hand stuffed between my legs, rocking softly against the heel of my palm. I swallow hard. Fuck, I didn’t even notice I was doing that. I convinced myself I was—ha!—I was just warming up my hands.

I shift my eyes sheepishly back up to meet Din’s, guilty as charged.

He sighs deep from within the chest. “You keep ‘em closed and we tie something around ‘em.”

Silent, I nod in agreement. My thighs squeeze together.

He jerks his head to beckon me over, and I go shuffling on over to him on my knees, probably looking like a right idiot, but, then again, I don’t really give a fuck because I’m about to kiss Din Djarin. I’m about to kiss my Mandalorian. I’m about to kiss my companion of almost a decade, more if you count all those shady bounties we used to end up competing for. My Mandalorian, my Din Djarin, mine, mine, mine. I’m not possessive, I don’t think, but, gods, I—I—I can’t believe it sometimes. That I get to know him like this. That I get to know such an incredible person. That he won’t say more than two words at a time to anyone, not even those we’re close with, like Peli—but, with me, he’ll talk for hours. He jokes that he’s just humouring me, but I know he loves it. He tells me so.

Din makes a motion with his hand to turn around, so I do, and I let him tie an old, folded food cloth around my head – unsanitary, sure, but, again, I don’t care, and my head’s reeling, and my heart’s racing so hard, thrumming in my ears, and he’s so close, and his fingers are tangling through my hair as he lowers my scarf, and they’re brushing against the nape of my neck now, and—

“Can you take your gloves off, Din?” I ask, and, unfortunately, the neediness seeps right through my voice. “Please?” Stars, I’m pathetic.

Behind me, there’s the shuffle and quiet groan of leather as he tugs them off, and then a quiet pat! as he tosses them to the side.

And then his hands are back. Rough, calloused fingertips ghosting over my ears, my hair, as he knots the cloth, then knots it again for good measure. Darkness is closed over my eyes, tinged the rich green of the fabric. My breath seems nearer this way, short, shallow, hot. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, still, as he cups the back of my neck, his touch cool.

I reach over my shoulder, taking a deep inhale as I run my fingers over the dips and hills of his knuckles. I fold my hands over his and squeeze, bringing them forward and kissing his fingertips gently. I feel the texture and thickness of his fingers, trace the lines of his palm. Din comes in close behind me, the solidity of his chestplate (cuirass? I dunno, once, he got all pissy ‘cause I didn’t call by it’s actual name) pressing up against my shoulder blades.

I smooth my thumbs along the deepest crease in his palm. “Y’know, once, before I met you, I met someone who told me he could foretell my whole life, and my child’s life, and their child’s life, just from the lines on my hands.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is right in my ear, low and intimate. Maker. “What do mine say?”

“All good things,” you reply shakily.

“Anything about Takodana?”

He twists his hand over, enveloping my right and rubbing circles into the back of it.

Then, he’s letting me go, leaning away—and there’s that hiss and click of him removing his helmet. I blink against the green cloth, my eyelashes dragging up slowly. If I hold my breath, I can hear him breathing.

“Turn around,” he tells me, and I do.

It’s too dark for silhouettes anymore. If we were in daylight again, maybe I could’ve seen the vaguest outline of him. But we’re not in daylight. I blink again against the cloth, hard.

His hands reach out and grasp my hips, and they’re warm and large and I never get used to it. The breath is still knocked out of my chest. He angles and adjusts me to face him, and I place my hands on his shoulders, fumbling around his armour before settling them instead on his neck.

His neck. Bare skin. I smooth my hand up the column of his pretty, perfect neck, feeling every inch of him. I already know the texture of his hair. When he’s between my legs and kissing me there, I like to thread my fingers through it. It’s thick and wavy and slightly too long. But otherwise, I keep my hands to myself. Even though I’m not technically seeing him in the dark when he takes his helmet off to taste me, I don’t reach out and touch his face—because it’s his. It’s his, and he’s taken an oath to keep it that way. He’s never initiated a kiss, so I’ve never asked. I’ve been content. I’ve been patient.

But I guess my patience has reached a limit. Slowly, tentatively, I drift my touch up, up, and feel along his jawline, coarse with longer scruff. His breath hitches, and I smile and continue. I smooth my fingers right along his cheekbone – Din gently circles his hand around my wrist, pressing his nose into my palm, then kissing it, soft, careful, dragging the tip of his nose along the line of the vein that trails over my arm.

Stars.

I blink hard again behind the green cloth, clenching my jaw down till my teeth grit together.

I feel along the jagged bridge of his nose, take note of how it’s slightly crooked to the right, like he’s broken it before (wouldn’t surprise me). I learn the shape of his brow, the broadness of his forehead. I feel the feather-light brush of his eyelashes against my wrist. I’m silent—and I’m grinning like an idiot, because what else can I do? It’s like I’m seeing his face. I’m not, but it’s sure as hell the closest thing. The weight of his head in my hands, the cautious squeeze of his hands on my arms. I whisper some kind of babbling, incoherent request, and he relaxes his eyes – I can feel the muscles in his face release tension – for me to trace my middle finger over the shape of his eye. I’m not crying, but, fuck, it’s getting a little moist up in this blindfold.

His eyes droop down slightly at the ends. I like eyes like that – kind eyes. My mother used to say these types of eyes only belonged to the kindest of people. Stars. Don’t cry.

“You look insane, mesh’la,” he whispers, close to me, lifting his hands to tenderly hold my face, like I might break.

“Ah, bantha shit, baby,” I retort. “You’re loving this.”

And I can feel him smile. I can feel it crinkle up the sides of his eyes, and I can feel the squint of them, and the way his cheeks lift. He smiles a little lop-sidedly, actually, the left corner of his mouth just a touch higher than the right. I try to memorise every single bit of information I discover, as urgent and as desperate as if my life depended upon it.

Quivering with want, I press my lips to the inner corner of his eye, firm and sure and needy, my hands grasping around his face. Din grabs fistfuls of my cloak, bringing me nearer to him.

He smells like dust and tastes like sweat and salt, but, Maker, this is good. Satisfies some deep, hellacious ache that would have otherwise consumed me.

I kiss the ridge of his cheekbone with the same fervour, and then I kiss the corner of his mouth, the left side, the side that quirks up when he smiles.

Only, he’s not really smiling right now. He’s breathing heavily, almost panting, and stroking my hair away from my face and neck before mumbling out, “So pretty.” I press my nose against his, breathless with anticipation, heady at the warmth of his body. “S’good. You look so good—like this. Y’look good all the time—”

But I’m kissing him already, frantic, fingers pressing into the back of his neck, into his shoulders, bringing him as near to me as humanly possible. I sob dryly as he reciprocates, nudging his nose flat against my cheek. He opens his mouth to suck in a breath, and I lick into him, taste him deeply, practically having climbed into his lap during my whirlwind pursuit. His cold hands slip under my cloak, arms wrapping around me in a second.

The kiss is dry and rough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It seems befitting of him somehow.

And when he makes a pathetic sound, a whimper or something, at the back of his throat, I almost melt right into the ground.

Closer, closer, closer – that’s all I can really comprehend at the moment. Even with our bodies slotted together, even though I can feel each shaky breath he takes as his stomach flexes over my own, I feel hungry for more. It’s Din. My Din, kissing me, his hands on me, his eyes on me. My Din, grunting into me as I shift in his lap and squeeze my legs around him. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine—

He grabs my face gently by the chin, urging me away from him for a few moments. I sit there, blind, his open mouth still hovering over mine. Oh, stars, I think of the softness of his tongue, and I kiss the corner of his mouth, wanting, asking.

Din angles my face to the side, coming in slow, warm, and languidly slides his tongue into my hot mouth, breath fanning out across my glowing face. Maker. I can’t control myself – a helpless noise passes through me as I take it good and kiss him back, eager, wide open.

I guide his hand down the the base of my throat, just to feel his touch somewhere else. He squeezes there lightly.

His other hand manages to snake under my shirt, pressing flat across the small of my back, sliding up my spine and sending shivers all the way right through me.

It’s—good. Really good. Can’t-open-my-eyes-for-a-good-few-heartbeats type of good.

“Maker,” he curses hoarsely under his breath as I pull away, still leaning forward for me, chasing my touch.

“Good?” I ask him.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, smiling. “We can do this—more often—‘f you want.”

“If I want, huh?”

He kisses me deeply again, his thumb slotted beneath the cloth over my eyes. He pulls it taut to the side over so slightly, and I can make out that beautiful, warm glow over the sand and his armour again. I shut my eyes as he tilts my head up, though, as kisses down to the hollow of my throat and back up again.

I slide my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” I just know it. Everything about him is just beautiful. It’s just lovely, and I love it.

“Marry me and you can find out for sure,” he mumbles into my neck.

I can hardly hear him, of course – blood is pounding so hard in my ears that all I can understand from his words are that they rumble deep right through his chest, warm under the cool beskar.

I lift his head and press my nose into his cheek. “I can tell,” I continue, words brushing his lips. Again, I smooth my fingers over his face. “You’re so pretty, Din.”

“Marry me,” he urges, whispering against the fabric over my eye, warm.

I grin. “Later.”

He curses, something in Mando’a. “We’re going to Takodana as soon as we get that damn ship, you hear me?”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #rip razor crest #din you little fittie #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #din djarin #mesh’la is the cutest nickname 💀#grogu #is a little shit #but he’s perfect #i’m feral for this man #star wars

157 notes · View notes