#that diverted from Din

[merrysithmas]

Alright im going public with my bad opinion explanation: I hate the adoption scene because in order for it to make sense you have to ignore almost everything that the previous seasons were doing.

First, foundlings are not orphans, JON.

Foundlings are literally just children adopted by Mandalorian warriors. Something Din had made clear, he repeatedly calls Grogu a foundling and the only one who would have adopted him is Din himself. So they got that totally wrong, they do not understand how foundlings work or what they are.

Second, Din has not struggled to accept he is a father. He struggled to let himself refer to himself as a father because he has always been afraid of losing Grogu. Season 1 he isn't afraid of being his father but he doesn't let himself call Grogu his son or himself his father because hes scared he is going to lose Grogu because theyre always on the run from those hunting for Grogu.

Season 2 he is even more seeing himself as his father but he now is scared to call himself that beacuse he thinks hes losing Grogu forever to the Jedi.

Its never been Din has to learn to see himself as a father its been Din was too scared of losing Grogu so soon after calling himself as such. Season 3 he has NO reason to not already fully consider Grogu his own son.

ALSO ALSO ALSO

So theres a direct comparison to tlou here. The end of the show/game, you have Joel fully cementing himself as Ellies father by going against all odds to save her life.

Episode 3 of season 1 is that story for Din. His first interaction was to murder the droid with him and hold out a gentle finger to this baby. He is a true Mandalorian. This child is alone and needs someone to protect him. He knows what this means he knows Grogu is his foundling when he does this. Foundlings for this covert are so important.

Episode 3 has Din struggle to accept handing him over and even as hes still doing so you see his regret. He goes back for Grogu and fights to the point where he is looking at a bundled barley awake Grogu thinking they both might die here. But he looks at him knowing it was worth it.

THAT to me is Din accepting fatherhood. That is Din willing to die for the baby he considers like his own.

Ahsoka literally tells him Grogu sees him as his father and Din doesn't ever refute or question her about such a title. Cara calls Grogu his kid and Mayfield instantly knows his kid is "the little green guy".

Its insane to me that season 3 literally starts with Bo calling Din "your dad" but for the REST OF THE SEASON we downgrade to words like ward or apprentice. Even in the goddamn adoption scene he still is called an apprentice. Season 3 just pretends Din doesn't accept he is already Grogus father when we had 2 seasons showing us that he did see Grogu as his son.

But fear of losing him made him to scared to voice such a thing outloud and by the time Grogu goes with Luke he regrets not saying it earlier.

Never in a million years do I believe season 1 and 2 Din would think he has to "adopt" Grogu formally to consider himself Grogus father. He always has. That was what made Din special in this genre.

He didn't spend the story growing to see himself as a father. He was as Grogus father from minute one and decided he unquestioningly was by episode 3. His story isnt accepting fatherhood its about overcoming the obstacles that would thus take his son from him and the fear of voicing it outloud because of it.

Season 3 pulls so much nonsense by showing Paz with what is clearly a newer foundling that he sees as his son. And then has the audacity to say that it took until the end of 3 seasons for Din to come to the same conclusion about his own foundling.

Dins always been Grogus father, he's always seen himself as such and thats what made their bond so special.

Also again, JON. Foundlings do not stop being foundlings. They are always a foundling because a foundling literally is a child adopted by Mandalorians. Jango didn't stop being a foundling because he was adopted by Jaster. No being adopted is what MADE him a foundling.

Like, just no understanding from Jon or Dave about why everyone but Din called them father and son. And no understanding of what Mandalorian foundling culture even fucking is. Formal adoption doesn't exist like that beacuse thats dumb. You take in a child, and you ARE their parent. Thats it.

It's not the biggest or most egregious fuck up of the season, but it makes me mad because now I have to pretend that THIS was the moment Din fully accepted fatherhood. Not when Grogu was cradled in his arms as they were surrounded about to die, but maybe it was okay because at least he did everything he could to save his child and they would be together.

So yeah. Thats why I hate the one scene everyone in the fandom apparently adores, whoops ✌

Ooh good point! I didn't see this in my ask box. Yes this is just another thing to add to the Fuckery of season 3. I did think it was incredibly odd for Din to have to publically adopt Grogu after he was already a foundling and Din was already OBVIOUSLY his caretaker and parent figure. They also totally ignored the traditional Mandalorian adoption ritual in Mando'a - the Gai bal manda.

Also the Armorer literally tells Din to his face he is "as Grogu's father" until he comes of age or is returned to the Jedi in TBOBF (the last time the Armorer was a character and not a Faux Katan plot device lackey RIP). So that ends the necessity yet again of that scene and proves it was only added to spoon feed the GA who didnt watch TBOBF.

But it goes to show in this season of alleged exploration of MANDO LORE AND CULTURE we yet again got absolutely nothing, confusion, doubling back, and bullshit plain and simple.

[skzdarlings]

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part ii

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | tba | ao3 link

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader is described with curly hair.

content warnings: a royal affair between queen reader and guard jisung. the king is a violently abusive man and continually disrespects reader in this part. this chapter has an additional content warning for emetophobia.

word count: 5100 words.

<3

-

Morning dawns with a cool, clear light, but it fades as quickly, dissolving in the burning sunshine.  Every hand is at work, preparing the royal retinue for its return journey to the capital. 

You watch as the last of your trunks are loaded onto a wagon.  Each click and latch echoes inside you.  You stand helpless as your life is locked in iron. 

You walk to exert the worst of your nerves, fluttering inside you like a thousand frantic butterflies.  You lift your gaze to the sky, willing those butterflies to carry you away, but then you see your family waving from a balcony. 

You cannot let them see your pain.  It is too late to do anything about the marriage, even if your parents expressed some regret for the arrangement.  That regret was tentatively posed to avoid treasonous speech, but they were undoubtedly taken aback by the king’s poor behaviour.    

Your mother insisted on dressing you this morning.  She was teary-eyed the entire time, so you faked your best and brightest smile.  There was no sense in you both suffering. 

The child in you wants to fling yourself at your family.  The woman you are, the queen you have become, forces a smile and waves back. 

You continue your walk.  Your mother dressed you finely but comfortably, a long, loose gown with flowing sleeves, your curly hair pinned in a twisting up-do, a flower behind your ear in lieu of a crown. 

Heads turn towards you, for there are courtiers milling about.  Some are travelling with the king’s party while others will divert course to visit their own lands.  Judgemental eyes trail the sweep of your hem across the earthen path.  You feign indifference as you weave in-and-out of the bustling bodies.

The courtyard has never been so busy.  The clamour of trunks, the stomping of horses, and the din of busy chatter blend into cacophony. 

Distantly, you hear a guitar.  

Han Jisung.  The first name you associate with music. 

You are flushed with embarrassment, remembering last night’s sorry return to your room.  Jisung escorted you back, a silent trek that agitated your frayed anxiety at the time.  In the light of day, you realize just how much he did for you.  You would not have survived the journey, at least not in one piece, and if anyone else had caught you, your life would have been equally forfeit. 

He committed an offense against the crown, a sin in his faith, one that would have demanded a great deal of reconciliation.  You have heard stories of kingsguards self-flagellate in the pursuit of forgiveness for even meagre transgressions.  The fact Jisung understood your betrayal, the fact he forgave it, the fact he saved you, is not insubstantial. 

You wonder who this man is, to wear the cloth but help his friend first, to keep secrets for a woman he hardly knew because he sympathized with her pain.  To have a sword at his hip and a song on his lips. 

You follow the guitar.  It leads you to the royal carriages and a circle of kingsguards in a hushed argument.  Jisung is playing a comically frantic tune while they debate. 

“What’s going on?” another kingsguard approaches.  It is the short and stocky one from the ceremony.  You learned the names of the all kingsguards at the evening festivities.  You recognize this one as Seo Changbin, an undoubted force of brute strength, striding up to his brethren with a hand on his sword hilt. 

“Felix disappeared,” Jisung trills, fingers dancing over the guitar strings, “and the kingsguard is afeared, because the king is not too dear—”

“What?” Changbin interrupts, looking at the others.  “Felix is gone?”

“Not just Felix,” a brown-haired guard, Lee Minho, says.  His brow is pinched.  “The king’s mistress is missing too.” 

Your eyes widen, your careful mask cracking under the assault of shock. 

The woman who ran off with Felix was the king’s mistress?   

It does not take much knowledge of the inner circle to deduce that does not bode well for anyone.  A kingsguard breaking his oath is one thing, a kingsguard running off with a woman is another still, but a kingsguard conducting an affair with the king’s mistress is a personal betrayal heaped on top of sin.  The only worse crime would be if he pursued the king’s wife. 

Jisung looks at you.  

He spots you across the crowd and strums a foul note, fingers clumsy with surprise.  The bad note draws attention to him, so the other guards follow his line of sight.   They all straighten when they see you, their strong shoulders tense with anxiety.

Minho and Changbin immediately duck into a bow.  The other two, Kim Seungmin and Yang Jeongin, exchange a glance before following suit.  Hwang Hyunjin, the preposterously beautiful one, bows but not before he grimaces with discomfort at their conversation being overheard by the queen.

Jisung is still staring, his eyes darting from your face to the flower behind your ear.  He meets your eyes and, for a long moment, sinks into your gaze where he loses himself.  The events of the previous evening seem to play in the space between you, every panicked whisper and solemn glance.

Then he abruptly notices the rest are bowing. With a yelp, he swings down into a bow. 

You take a breath to steady your voice. “What’s this about a missing person?” you ask. 

They straighten, one by one, sharing uncertain looks.  Minho and Jisung seem to have a mute conversation, Minho clenching his jaw and lifting his brows as if mutely scolding Jisung.  Jisung stares back with furrowed brows as if challenging it.

In the end, it’s the youngest one who speaks.  Jeongin is a shaggy-haired youth and his whole face is scrunched with worry. 

“A kingsguard is missing,” he blurts.  “But he’s not a bad guard,” he adds frantically, waving his hands around.  “Really.  We don’t know what happened.  It’s not like him.  And the king’s mistress is missing too, but that doesn’t make sense.  No, it doesn’t make any sense at all.  Felix wouldn’t do that.  It’s not like Felix.  It’s really very strange, your Majesty.  We don’t understand, Your Majesty.  Your Majesty.”  He dips into a bow every time he utters your title.

Seungmin kicks him. 

“Stop talking, dummy,” Seungmin says out of the side of his mouth. 

“Right, I’m sorry,” Jeongin says, bowing again.  “We’re all very loyal.  We’re the kingsguard.  You know that. Of course you do.”

As if anyone could mistake the cluster of black-robed soldiers, looking very austere among the courtiers and servants. 

You say nothing more, simply cast your gaze around the assembled soldiers, doing your utmost not to look at Jisung lest you betray too much secret knowledge. 

“There is no cause for concern,” Minho says, drawing your attention.  “Everyone is just… surprised.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin mutters, “Surprised it wasn’t Hyunjin.”   

Jeongin snorts, though he looks remorseful after.  Hyunjin whips around to glare at Seungmin who is now snickering to himself. 

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says, catty in tone, “I let them look, but I don’t touch.”

“And what do they touch?” Seungmin retorts.  Jeongin laughs again and looks even more chagrined, covering his mouth and closing his eyes. 

“Yah, knock it off,” Changbin says, waving them apart. 

“We’ll fix it,” Minho says to you.  “You don’t need to concern yourself, your Majesty.”

You do not say that you are very concerned.  You worry the king’s attentions will return to you sooner than he threatened.  And if that was his conduct when he had a mistress for pleasure, you are loathe to imagine how he might behave in her absence.    

But that is not an admittance you can make to the holy order sworn to enforce the will of the gods-blessed crown.

The king is wearing that crown as he storms over.  He is already ranting and raving, barking at the leader of kingsguard.  Chan follows him, hand on the hilt of his sword, stoic face not betraying a hint of anxiety.  He nods patiently at the king’s ranting. 

When they reach the guards, a single look from Chan compels them all to stand in formation and bow before the king.

“I want them found!” the king hollers.  “I want their heads on pikes outside my window!  And if I find any conspirators in this fucking plot—”   He shoves a passing servant, a man in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The servant spills to the ground, cowering when the king looms over him.  “Then they too shall pay the price of treason.”   

The servant crawls into full obeisance, prostrate on the ground.  The king just snarls and steps over him. 

“Sire,” Chan says curtly, a vague acknowledgement before he helps the servant up and sends him on his way. 

The king has already moved on, still ranting to himself as he storms across the courtyard.  He starts shouting about his wife, evidently missing you in the crowd.  You swallow down the choking terror in your throat and follow him. 

“If that whore ran off too—” he starts, turning around and finally seeing you.  He snarls.  “It would have been preferable,” he says. 

You say nothing.  You dip into a respectful bow and keep your eyes down.  It conceals your fear, your frustration.  You hope it just looks submissive.   

“It is not necessary we overindulge in company,” he says.  “You will ride in the carriage behind mine.  The kingsguard will surround us.  You will not bother them.  You will not be a grievance to me.  You will be quiet.  You will be obedient.  You will do as told and move only when bid.”  He does not wait for a reply, turning to look at the guards.  “We depart.  Now.  I want to leave this disgusting territory behind me.”

He spits.  Ostensibly, it is just on the ground, a slight against the land, but it falls close to your feet.  It is abundantly obvious what he is actually spitting on. 

You take another steadying breath, staring at that spot on the ground.  When you find the strength to lift your gaze, the guards are staring at you.  Their expressions run the range of pity and malcontent.  You suppose they would be offended by the king slighting you so outright.  Though his blood is divine by birthright, they believe the gods control the fates of men, so if you are queen it is because the gods will it so.  You have also been chosen by the gods and it is not appropriate for the king to conduct himself thusly. 

They are visibly disgruntled, Chan most of all, his brow furrowed as he stares after the king.  The shake of his head is nearly imperceptible; you would have missed it if you were not looking at that precise moment. 

The king leaves an awkward silence in his retreat.  It is broken when Jisung strums a melodramatic chord on his guitar. 

Chan shoots him an unimpressed look.  Jisung giggles nervously.   

“Put it away,” Chan says.

“Heh, right,” Jisung says, spinning on his heel.  He putters towards his horse where he packs his guitar with his saddlebags. 

In spite of yourself, you feel the tug of a smile, very small but very real.  Your eyes follow Jisung until Chan steps forward, his hand over his heart as he bows politely.

“Your Majesty,” he says.  “I’ll escort you to the carriage.” 

You start to follow, casting a final glance back at your home.  When you do, you catch sight of something across the courtyard.  It roots you to the spot.  Your heart weighs you down like a lead weight. 

“Your Majesty?” Chan says, tilting his head.  He holds out his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.  It comes out on a breath.  You clear your throat but your voice is still shaking when you say, “Can you give me just one more moment?  I’ll be fast.”

His squints, perplexed, but he nods. 

You gather your skirts so you can run quickly over the courtyard bricks.  You hurry to the cluster of household servants who are gathered in a teary-eyed throng by the palace.   When they see you coming, they all rush forward.  You meet them halfway, throwing your arms around the woman directly in your path. 

Your tears nearly escape, but you manage to restrain them, enveloped in the friendly embrace of the household that raised you.  You spent more time among these people than anyone else, always respectful of their important duties, cherishing their friendships as dearly as any noblesse. 

You know it is inappropriate as a queen, standing there hugging the servants one-by-one, but you suspect you will draw ire regardless.  So you hug and thank them, wiping a few teary faces as they wish you well. 

“You’ll come back and visit right?” a little girl asks, the daughter of a handmaiden your own age, a woman you consider a friend.  You spent many hours entertaining her daughter, helping with chores, giving gifts, seeing her grow. 

You crouch down to her level, holding back tears as you nod.  You know it’s not true, that the king will undoubtedly forbid it given his contempt for this place.  But you say, “Of course I will.  This is my home.  I’d miss you all too much.”

“We’ll miss you too,” her mother says, hugging you next.  When she does, she slips something into your hand, a small phial of a dark liquid.  “Sleeping draft,” she whispers in your ear.  “For the nights the king needs his rest so you may have yours.” 

You laugh through your tears, kiss her temple and a mouth a thank you as you withdraw.   You tuck the phial into a pocket pouch inside your gown. 

After a few more goodbyes, you stand before them and bow.  You offer a smile as they return it.  It carries a very different respect than the terrified cowering of the servant before the king. 

You are not the only one who thinks so.  When you turn, you find the guards all staring at you, their faces a wall of blinking surprise.  Jisung is the worst at hiding his thoughts, his brown eyes the widest.   Chan is the best, but even he cannot hide his contemplation.   

“I’m ready,” you say gently. 

You lift your hem and walk onward.  You do not look back.  You wait until the carriage door is closed behind you, then you bury your face in your hands and cry. 

-

Your sorrow passes, bleeding into frustration, then fury.   Alone in the carriage, you have time to stew in a myriad of emotions as you deliberate on your circumstances.  You resolve to stand firm before the king, to not crumple beneath his cruel sneers, to bear his wickedness with grace.  You will make him ridiculous in comparison to your obvious virtue. 

This commitment falters very quickly. 

For the first hour of travel, you are passing through your family’s property, then the village.  The roads are paved and the passage is smooth.  When you reach the forest path, it is a different matter entirely.  Though there is a road that cuts through the great woods, it is a trail of gravel and packed, uneven dirt.  The carriage jostles constantly, bouncing up and down at inconsistent intervals.

You last three hours.  By the end of that third hour, you are so queasy that the scarlet interior of the carriage turns to a murky green.  Your spotted vision swims through that grime even with your eyes closed.  You do everything you can to ease the discomfort, taking down your hair pin-by-pin until every curl is loose, the flower discarded because its scent was too strong.  You sit in every possible position, craning towards the window and fresh air, but the nausea only worsens as the trail gets bumpier. 

You try to distract yourself, listening to the aimless chatter and laughter from the kingsguards.  Their horses trot along at an unhurried canter, far smoother than the carriage wheels jumping over rocks and earth. 

After a particularly violent jostle, you give up.  You are going to be sick and you would rather not do it in the carriage. 

“Excuse me,” you say, waving to the first guard you see.  Minho is not far from the window.  “I’m sorry but I need to stop.  Right now.”  You want to elaborate but your stomach rolls and your voice catches. 

You must look sufficiently ill because Minho clicks his boots and quickens his pace, riding up to Chan near the king’s carriage.  You slump against your seat while they have a quick discussion.

Chan lifts a hand and the whole train comes to a halt. 

You do not wait for them to open the door.  You burst out of the carriage in a clumsy frenzy, running to the treeline where you fall to your knees and promptly empty the contents of your stomach. 

You feel hot and frantic, heaving as you struggle to hold your hair off your face.  You sputter, lips quivering as another wave rises inside you. 

Someone jumps off their horse and lands beside you.  You spare a brief glance up at Minho, his brow pinched with concern, but then the king shouts in aggravations and you throw yourself forward to vomit some more.

Minho helps, bending over you, gathering you hair as best he can and holding it out of the way.  The next closest soldier, Hyunjin, also dismounts and approaches. 

Vomiting is not exactly dignified.  It feels even worse to have every single person in the royal retinue watch you spew your breakfast over the forest floor.

You lift your head, turning to offer an apology but your voice is shot.  Minho still looms rather protectively, Hyunjin nearby.  You look around for Chan to address him, but your eyes find Jisung first.  He is the farthest away, perched on horseback, fidgeting with the reins.

The king shouts again.  It’s a block of noise to your ringing ears, but you suspect he is angry at the delay.  He told you not to be a grievance.

You try to stand but your knees wobble.  You use a rock for balance, then Minho when he takes your arm.   Hyunjin steps in and takes your other arm.  Together, they get you back on your feet. 

“I don’t think she can continue yet, sire,” Chan says, riding into view.  “Maybe we should rest here for a bit.”

“We are stopping to rest in an hour,” the king snaps.  “I will not be delayed so near to our schedule.”

“What made you sick?” Minho asks.

“The carriage,” you say, groaning as you wipe your mouth.  You are certain you make a ravaged sight.  At least your stomach is empty now, the worst of the nausea passed, but you cannot imagine climbing back inside that rattling monstrosity.  

You step forward, away from Minho and Hyunjin.  Your legs quiver but you steady yourself. 

“I’ve never ridden a carriage so far,” you say.  “I’m very sorry, I am.  The terrain is just so uneven.  I’ve only ever ventured to the village and back.”  Even then, you usually travelled on horseback.  Sometimes you would sit on the back on a wagon or two, but it never went farther than the ends of the property. 

“Why doesn’t she travel on horseback?”  That sounds like Seungmin, speaking somewhere behind you. 

“Can you ride a horse?” Hyunjin asks, to which you nod emphatically. 

“It might be less intense at this pace,” Minho agrees. 

They look at Chan.  You are certain there is something significant about the fact the guards always seek instructions from Chan and not the king, but you are too unsettled to contemplate anything too deeply. 

Chan is the one who looks at the king, lifting a questioning brow. 

“There’s no horses to spare,” the king says.  “If one of you wants to deal with the brat, then take her.” 

Hyunjin steps towards you. 

“Not you,” the king says. 

Hyunjin steps back again.

The king, who is still in his carriage, cranes his neck to look around the gathered guards.  He snaps his fingers. 

“Bard boy,” he calls.  “Take the queen.”

“Jisung,” Chan says, waving him forward.  “Come here.” 

You look at Jisung who is visibly startled at his selection.  His black hair is a bit windswept, the longer tufts curling up at his nape.  Wide, brown eyes find yours, slowly blinking to attention.  With a shake of his head, he picks up the reins and rides over to you. 

You step back, staring up at him on his perch.  He says nothing but extends his open hand, blinking those captivating eyes at you.  You are not sure why they ensnare you so, nor why your heart skips a beat when you delicately place your hand in his.  That beat pounds a quick stacatto when his sword-calloused fingers grip yours tightly. 

Minho and Hyunjin help you onto the horse.  You seat yourself side-saddle in front of Jisung, ramrod straight so you are not pressed against him.  His arms circle you to take the reins and you pointedly do not look at his hands.    

Despite the king’s presumption, you would have been less bothered by Hyunjin.  Yes, he is irrevocably handsome, his own black hair tied back, sleek and pristine, but it does not affect you.  A handsome face has never much moved you.  You always thought yourself logical, your heart oddly shaped next to others.

But now you are looking at Jisung’s dark-painted nails, his soldier’s hands on the reins; now you are feeling his breath at your nape, the warmth that emanates from his body, hot from wearing black in the summer sun; now you think of him helping his friend, helping you, and that makes him more than a handsome face.  it makes your stomach twist in a very different way than before. 

That feeling is exacerbated when he reaches into a saddlebag and retrieves a waterskin. 

“Here,” he says in a soft voice.  “Drink. Go on.”  He puts it in your hand. 

You take a deep drink, purging your mouth of the foul residue of sickness.  You thank him just as softly and hand the waterskin back.   

Once settled, the train resumes course.  Chan waves and everyone marches on.

Jisung spurs the horse into motion.  Despite your best effort, the movement knocks you into his chest.  Jisung sputters and you realize your undone hair is flying into face. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, desperately smoothing it down.  It does not work, but all your pins are in the carriage and you suspect the king will not be too enchanted if you stop the train to fetch them.

“It’s okay,” Jisung says.  “One second.”  He lays the reins down, his thigh muscles firm behind you as he squeezes to maintain leverage. 

Then you feel the brush of his fingertips on your bare neck.  It sends an immediate cascade of shivers shooting down your spine.  He gathers your hair carefully in his hands, guiding it over your shoulder, away from his face. 

Minho also pulled back your hair, but that was a very different sensation. 

This you… feel.

He takes up the reins again, arms circled around you.  You pull yourself upright as the horse moves along. 

You think this ride might be stiff and uncomfortable, but then he begins to hum to himself.  You find the gentle melody placates your nerves.  Your frantic energy simmers to a cooler calm. 

After a while, the conversations resume around you.  Jisung tells some jokes to the other guards and you smile, though it is weak.  Their camaraderie makes you miss your own friends already. 

Jisung hums again, almost like he can sense your discomfort.  It is most likely a coincidence, but you still find yourself sighing pleasantly. 

With the worst of your anxiety tempered, at least for now, you ask him, “Where did you learn to play?”

“Sorry?”  The question catches him off guard.

“Sorry,” you say.  “I don’t mean to pry.  I’m just curious.” 

Though there is often a bard-like character in the kingsguard, it is nonetheless an intriguing amalgamation of skills.  They do not let just anyone into the kingsguard service, even if they are willing to take the vow of chastity and surrender their earthly goods.  Jisung must be an exceptionally skilled swordsman to be admitted, an interesting background for such a talented musician.  Though he was joking with his music earlier, he is very capable of composing melodic poetry.

“Music and swordplay just seem an odd match,” you say.

“Maybe,” he replies.  “Maybe not.  They both require dedication.  Time.  Practice.” 

“You are a devout man, I suppose,” you say. 

“Of course,” he answers confidently.  “I am absolutely the most devout and most impressive one here—ow.”  Someone, probably Seungmin, chucks a coin at his head.  

You laugh, glancing at Jisung over your shoulder.  His eyes dart briefly to your mouth, his own face brightening at your smile.  He laughs back and nods. 

“Honestly, I grew up with music first,” he says.  “I didn’t, uh… I didn’t exactly grow up in a palace.  To say the least.  But, yeah, definitely palace-adjacent and not a hovel on a street in the capital,” he jokes.  As he talks, you picture a little boy with a guitar, strumming on the busy city streets.  “I used to write songs and sing for money.  Then I got older.  I was looking for work when the war started.  I got recruited like a lot of boys, but I was pretty disciplined and a fast learner.  After the war, I met Chan.  He put in a good word for me, so I was able to put myself forward during the new recruitment season.”

“So you haven’t been there long,” you say.  The war only ended a year ago. 

“Ten months,” he says cheerily.  “But it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“That’s commendable,” you say.  “It’s rewarding, I’m sure, but an intense order nonetheless.  I can’t imagine making so many sacrifices.”

“Can’t you?” 

The question is posed softly but lands heavily.  You suppose Jisung is correct; you have both made sacrifices to be where you are, though the journeys were very different, and your futures more so. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly.  “Fuck, that wasn’t my place.  Your Majesty.  Oh, fuck, I swore.  Fuck, sorry.  Ignore that.” 

You laugh in spite of yourself, catching the sound in your palm.  He laughs behind you.  Even with a sliver of distance between you, you can feel his chest shaking.

“Good thing foregoing curses is not one of your oaths,” you say.

“Oh, fuck, no, I’d fail that one for sure.  Sorry, ignore that too.” 

You are pretty sure he is being funny on purpose now, but you appreciate it, smiling as you move beneath a canopy of trees.  It is much cooler in the shade, alleviating the discomfort of the hot sun.  You exhale and let your posture slacken, just a bit, just enough your bodies touch on every downward canter. 

“Were you ever scared?” you ask.  The king’s carriage is ahead of you.  You watch the wheels turn and turn. 

“Yeah,” he says.  “A bit.  A lot.  Completely.  Not about the vows, though.  I was just scared I’d let everyone down.  Especially Chan.  He put his own reputation on the line when he stood for me.  I don’t know what he saw in me.  Gods only know no one else ever saw it.  Me included.”

He laughs at his self-deprecation but you do not.  You watch the shadows of the forest roll over the carriages.  You think of Jisung in that barn, risking everything for his friend.  Your cheek tingles, remembering where he wiped your tear during that lonely ceremony.  Your heart still races at the memory of him singing a springtime song, dedicated to you despite the antagonistic crowd.    

“I do,” you say.

“You do what?” he asks casually. 

“I see something good in you, Han Jisung.”   

“Ohh.”  He is stupefied for a moment.  You are not sure of his expression, too shy to look at him.   “Well, I don’t know about that,” he eventually says.  “I’m definitely the lowest ranked in the kingsguard.  Sorry for that, by the way.”

“Sorry?”  Now you look back, meeting his gaze.  “Why would you be sorry?”

“Well, uh…”  He looks away, to the road ahead, his voice strained with awkwardness.  “There’s a reason I was picked for proxy at the ceremony.  It’s not because I’m not the best swordsman, or the most pious priest.  I’m, uh, well… ‘bard boy’.  And the king – His Holy Majesty – he uh… well, I mean…  It had to be someone like a kingsguard but he didn’t want… I mean, that is…”

“It’s all right,” you say.  “You don’t have to say it. I understand.” 

he king was heaping insults on you and your family; of course he chose the lowest ranked kingsguard to stand in as proxy, just like he chose him now. 

Irritation creeps up your neck, heating your skin.  You glare at the carriage. 

You are not even annoyed for yourself.  Your insult has been established.  You angry that the king would make such a disrespectful insinuation for a member of the elite kingsguard.  The kingsguard service is as ancient as the regime.  They are a respectable, powerful order.  Admission to the order requires a great deal of work, more than simply being born in the right house.  The king has no right to insult a soldier like Jisung.  Just like he has no right to insult you. 

“So yeah,” Jisung says.  He clears his throat and tries to sound cheery as he says, “That’s why I’m sorry!  Anyway, it all worked out.  I’m sure I’m your favourite already, right?  I’m everyone’s favourite, obviously.” 

He is speaking jokingly but your heart skips a beat anyway.  You swallow, hard.   

In the next moment, the horse jumps, maneuvering around a ditch in the road.  You fall against his chest with a thump, throwing your hands out instinctively.  Your hand clasps his, your bodies pressed together. 

“Sorry,” you say in unison. 

“It’s all right,” he says.  “I got ya.”

It is spoken with nonchalance.   You still feel it.     

“I’m not sorry,” you say.  “I’m glad it was you, Jisung.” 

You turn, finding your lips close to his face.  He stares at you, as surprised as he is rivetted. 

Softly, so only he can hear, intimately, a breath away from him, you whisper, “I believe you saved my life even before you found me in that barn.  So yes.  I’m glad it was you.  I’m glad he chose you.  I would have chosen you too.”     

“Oh,” is all he says, moved to silence. 

You remain in his arms, leaning against his chest.  You pick up the melody he was humming and hum it yourself, making him laugh on an exhale.  You feel the tension leave his arms and his heartbeat skip then resume its normal cadence, steadying your own. 

[atenea585]

Always His Eyes

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You always saw his eyes as something glorious. But something is missing now that he is gone.

Word Count: 1,368

Tags/Warnings: angst, violence, blood, death.

Your ears were ringing. That was the first thing you felt.

What had happened? Am I dead? Is this heaven?

Lilith had tried to kill you along with Sam, you even saw a glowing light and you closed your eyes because it hurt the sight.

But you didn't feel... Dead.

You opened your eyes and the first thing you saw was Dean's feet a few feet away. You were lying on your side, your head hurt, but little by little you were more aware. You shook your head and felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly.

“Hey, are you okay?” You heard Sam's voice next to you.

But your vision was focused on Dean, his body still. You propped yourself up on one elbow and simply watched him. What happened playing over and over in your mind, like a recording you don't want to let go.

"Dean?" You barely heard your own voice, so low and strange that you thought you had thought of that name.

Sam heard it anyway, and made his attention move to his brother's body. He slowly got up and walked towards him. Meanwhile, you continued to stare at his body, as if you were hoping (no, wishing... Yes, definitely wishing) that he would move.

But that was impossible after the attack he had suffered by the hellhounds.

You stood up slowly, being able to see more of his body, but decided to keep your distance. You really didn't want to admit it, admit that he... That he...

He...

“Sam?” You whispered his name when you saw him kneel next to him. “Sam, tell me he’s okay.” You heard him cry softly, saying Dean's name.

Only at that moment did you decide to approach the opposite side where Sam was, falling to your knees while you saw how his brother lay limp in his arms. Dean's chest was torn, his own blood splattered across his face. A truly horrible scene to watch, a scene that made you squint your eyes and focus solely on his.

"Dean…” You shook your head, feeling a tear run down your cheek as you slowly extended a hand towards him. “No…” You even stopped breathing normally.

You entered the office without bothering to knock on the door. Likewise, you could barely carry the coffees in both hands. What did it matter if you didn't announce yourself before? But as soon as you looked up, you noticed that your boss wasn´t alone, but in the company of two young men about your age.

“Oh, excuse me, I'll be back another time.”

But your boss's voice made you stop your movements.

“She´s my assistant.” He said, standing up and calling your name. “Dear, they're from the FBI, they're coming for the disappearances.”

Both guys stood up from their seats and the first thing you noticed was the height of both of them, one taller than the other, but that din´t detract from the other. You looked between the two of them with a slight smile. They were both attractive, you had to admit, dressed in their suits and with almost angelic faces.

"Hi." The taller of the two said, looking at you with a friendly smile on his face.

You waved back and your gaze moved to the man next to him, his green eyes probably being the first thing that caught your attention. But the freckles near them made you tilt your head in attention.

"Hi." He stretched out his hand to shake yours, but you hesitated, diverting your attention to the cardboard in your hands that was keeping the coffee cups afloat. He seemed to notice that your hands were full. “Lemme help you with that.” He said before pulling the cardboard off of you, your fingers brushing together, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel electricity run through your body.

He passed the coffees to his partner (who almost dropped them due to the unexpected movement) without even taking his eyes off you. He extended his hand to you again and you smiled at the charm that seemed to emanate naturally from him.

"Hi." You shook his hand.

"Hi." He repeated softer this time.

You think you got lost in his eyes...

“Please don't…” You sobbed over his corpse, leaning over him slightly as you brushed his cheek with your hand, afraid to feel the skin of an uninhabited body.

“So, vampires, werewolves, Chupacabras... do all of that exist?” You walked next to him, your hands inside your jacket while the lights of the ambulance were meters away from both of you.

You had a wound on your cheek that professionals had already taken care of, although of course you had to lie to them about how you got it. Surely they would have sent you to a special hospital if you told them that you got it when a Wendigo kidnapped you along with a hunter of supernatural creatures who wears jeans to the forest.

“Pretty much yes.”

“Even Bigfoot?”

“Well, we haven't crossed paths with him yet, but I'm ready.” He responded with amusement, stopping walking to turn to look at you.

You laughed and your gaze met his, stopping walking too. Hell, his eyes could be brighter under the moonlight. Incredible, but possible.

“Okay, smart boy, for most of us college was enough,” you shrugged, your shoulder aching slightly at the movement and you wondered when your body would feel like new again, “well, for those who went and didn't have than being a secretary.”

“It's more something you are born with than something you can decide.”

You nodded your head slowly and watched him. It must have been a lonely lifestyle and you even wondered if at any point in his life he thought about doing something other than a hunter who put his life in danger on every hunt, but you didn't dare ask him, believing it to be invasive. Instead, you sighed and swayed on the spot, adopting a more timid attitude as you briefly lowered your gaze to your feet before returning it to his eyes.

“I don't know how I could thank you.” A flirtatious smile made its way onto his face and you looked at him in disbelief, but you couldn't hide your own smile. “And you had to ruin the moment.”

"Yeah!"

You shook your head in amusement and bit your bottom lip. You didn't know where your shyness had come from since Dean had actually been flirting with you at all times since you met him, sometimes being more subtle than others.

He tilted his head and brought a hand to your lips, pulling your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Your entire attention was on him. Suddenly, the lights of the ambulance no longer blinded one side of your face and, instead, made his shine.

And those eyes... Always his eyes...

He brushed away a strand of hair covering your eye and stroked his thumb over the bandage the paramedics had placed over your wound, so gently it felt like a feather brushing your face.

And at no time did you dare to look away from his eyes.

You ran your fingers through his hair as you whispered his name once more, your hands shaking and your chest hurting like it had never hurt before. Your tears fell on him and you just wished it was like in the movies, and that your pain would bring him back. This wasn't supposed to happen, you were supposed to find a solution and Dean would be saved. You had tried everything in one year. So much effort to prevent what you now knew was inevitable.

You looked into his eyes and had to blink because tears blurred your vision. Those eyes no longer shone. They no longer shone with the moonlight that was currently coming in through the window. They were empty, not even looking at anything in particular. They were simply two spheres without a soul to guide them. And they seemed like the most horrible thing you had ever seen in your life.

You understood that his eyes were only beautiful because they had his life inside them.

[snowy-vee]

BSC: Back to School (1)

n/a: You all know the drill, enjoy and let me know <33

INDEX

It did not hit you that the summer was over until you were in your shared room and a T-shirt landed in your face. You throw it back to the owner, your best friend and the most fabulous person in the building, Dina.

“Are you not going to unpack? We have to get ready for the ‘Welcoming dinner’, hurry up, put your uniform on!” She was almost done with her suitcase, putting it under the bed once she did. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, she could see that as she approached her vanity with a brush, freeing her hair from the tie, her dark curls fell gracefully on her shoulder, she was focused on brushing them until her eyes looked at you in the mirror.

You were sat in your bed with a frown in your lips, you had such a nice summer and you wanted to extend it more, It’s not like you hated the school but homework, exams, activities you are obliged to do… that’s not something you like. The stare of Dina was too intense making you stand up and start undressing to put on the uniform which consisted in a dark brown skirt, a plain white shirt with a red, white and black tie and a light brown blazer with the pin of the school.

This year you had a glow-up, it’s not as if you were bad looking the other years, but this one? You were radiant not only because the uniform finally hug your body in a right way but because you caught Jesse watching you once you enter accompanied with Dina, that made you jump a little bit once you two were out of his sight, screaming on Dina’s ears. The cold bedroom made your enthusiasm go down and that’s when you sat on your bed and realized that you were at school.

“I can feel it in my bones, this year is my year” you said applying kiwi chapstick in your lips, doing the sound ‘pop’ twice “The way he looked at me? He’s obsessed”

Dina couldn’t help but laugh opening the door of the room “He soooooo is, now, let’s go dine, delulu”

“I’m not delusional!” you protested following behind her “Why are you walking so fast?”

You catch up to her her, linking you arm to her as you two laughed in the hallway, casually saying ‘hi’ to others girls that were heading to the dinning room. The school was enormous, so the girls and boys rooms where in different ends, each of the with the same installations such as common room, community showers, etc.

In the middle it was the dinning hall, the library, the music room, the principal and professor’s offices and more, there were three hallways that connected to the other building where classes where taught, you could find you locker there and the study room. The school was surrounded but a lot of woods and deep into them, there was a cabin where sometimes people threw parties but it was mostly for the third years to use exclusively whenever they wanted, you needed an invitation to go there.

“Hate this” You said standing behind your chair “Why do we have to wait? Can she just give her speech while we eat?”

Dina rolled her eyes shushing at you, you rolled them too looking around the room while the principal was giving the speech on how this was a new year and blah blah blah, you couldn’t care less as your eyes landed on the most amazing guy in the room, Jesse. A dreamy sigh left your mouth as you look at his perfect styled black hair, how amazing that shirt was on his chest and arms ¡Oh, his muscles! You could moan just to think of touching them.

The silly smile that adorn your daydreaming face faded as you saw a hand on his shoulder, your eyes diverting your attention to the girl besides him, his “bestfriend” Ellie Williams. Of course, she couldn’t be one minute away from him, always by his side, you’ve heard rumors that she usually sneaks to go to his room AT MIDNIGHT.

You found it outrageous, they never officialese anything but you knew there was something between them. Everyone in the room started clapping and so did you, shaking your head to let those thoughts fell ans sit down to start eating. “I’m so mad right now, I feel less hungry”

“Then why are you filling your plate?”

“Because I am hungry, Dina!”

“I am not your enemy, don’t talk bad to me” She put some rice and peas on her plate and filled her and your cup with water.

“I know, sorry, It’s just- Doesn’t she have anything else to do then be around him?”

Dina looked at the direction you were so fixated, watching Ellie and Jesse eating and laughing with the rest of the people in their table “They are best friends, you and I are always together, attached to our hips”

“It’s not the same and you know it”

She huffed exhausted knowing that you could go for hours talking about those two, so she just started talking with somebody else, you later joined in once your stomach was relaxed and you felt more happy and enthusiastic. When the dinner finished, everybody left slowly the room, some talking with other about the summer, others on their phone or simply walking but ¿You? You were sprinting to your room, tugging your bestie with you.

There was going to be a party in the cabin, everybody beside first years was invited, that meant more time to appreciate the beauty of your soon to be boyfriend. You were excited as you opened your wardrobe searching for something good but not too much.

“I need to look like a slut but not like a slut, you know hat I mean?” you asked Dina showing her two tops and waving them, she pointed at the one in your right “Cool”

She started getting ready too, flared jeans and a cute top was her outfit, she was not going to touch her hair again, she just applied some mascara and she was done. You felt kind of jealous of how pretty she was, and her personality? She was amazing.

“Look at that ass, girl!” you hyped her up slapping it “Are you trying to end the year with boyfriend just like me?”

“Something like that…” she shrugged. Her phone started vibrating, it was a call, you assumed, because it kept going “I’ll take it outside, are you ready? let’s go in five”

You nodded looking at her taking up the call with a ‘wait, I’m not alone’ as she went outside. Whatever, you had to practise your smile and the tone you wanted to use, ugh, this was hard, flirting was hard ¿Why couldn’t you just cast a spell on him and start dating? Skip all the awkwardness and straight to be the love of each others lives.

The door opened and Dina knocked looking at you “Come on! Everyone is gone!”

“I’m ready”

The walk towards the cabin was more sneaky than anything, it wasn’t until you were close that you could hear the music and see the bonfire outside, most of them were already drinking or smoking. The nervous feeling in your stomach was growing, you were hoping to look good, you were hoping for tonight to be the start of something good.

“Let’s have a drink to calm you down, honey” She said sensing how tense you were “Something light but enough to relax”

Inside the cabin there was too many people, you did not cared about that, you cared about not being able to spot Jesse anywhere, not outside, not inside. “Maybe coming today was a mistake”

You look at the inside of the cup that was handed to you frowning your lip in a sadly way, Dina shook her head holding your hand and taking you to the middle of the room, spin you and make you dance. Rolling your eyes you started dancing with her, having fun for a moment, sipping on your cup and maybe adding a little bit of more liquor in it.

Dina had her phone on her hand, checking time to time “Uh- I have to go outside for a moment, I’ll be right back!”

“For what? Dina!”

She was gone from your eyesight, you hated that, this has been her behaviour the whole summer too. You thought that maybe she had a sneaky link but eventually she would talk about it with you ¿Guess what? Almost 3 months and she didn’t.

You let yourself fall in a space in the couch, taking out your phone and replying to some messages from other friends, it’s not like you were 100% a loner but the only one who got you and you could be yourself was Dina.

“Why the sad face? This is a party”

You turned facing the stranger that was talking to you, just to find the face of the last person you wanted to engage in a conversation “None of your business”

She laughed while drinking whatever was left in her cup “Hey, I was just trying to be nice, your loss cause I’m actually very funny”

“If I need someone to make me laugh, I’d hire a clown, are you a clown?”

“Whatever you want me to be, I could” Ellie lock her eyes in yours, your mouth opened slightly narrowing your eyes as you moved aside.

“Yeah, no… Where’s Jesse? I mean-” you cleared your throat, you couldn’t give yourself away, letting Elie know your feelings for her best friend “You guys are always together as if you too were something more than friends”

There, you said it, now just wait to see her reaction or response. She stayed silent for some seconds before bursting into laughter, what was so funny? You didn’t get it.

“Oh, god, you are so funny” She wiped away a tear that came from laughter. “First of all, I like girls”

“You like girls?! Since when?” You were confused, you’ve never heard of this, not even in the gossip forum. That meant that Ellie was not competition any more, this was your year! You were screaming mentally and jumping all around.

“Yeah and I don’t know”

“Cool” now you could gift Ellie one of your friendly smiles, you turned your body on her direction, putting all your attention on her. She must have felt the shift in the whole vibe because now she was the one moving aside. “What were you saying about you being funny?”

The time went flying, you found her very entertaining, she actually someone you could easily talk to about anything ¡Gosh! You could have befriended her a long time ago if you weren’t so judgmental. You barely noticed when Dina came back and touched your shoulder.

“Finally! Where were you?” She sat in your lap.

“Outside, I told you. Hi, Ellie”

“Hi, Dina” she said kind of nervous, scratching the back of her head. You looked between them two as the energy was starting to feel off, that was until Jesse appeared in the picture in front of Ellie.

“Ellie, some of us are going to play poker, do you want to join?” He turned to look at you and he smiled “Hey, girls”

You silly laughed, biting your lip slightly before saying ‘Hi’, you couldn’t believe he was talking to you, even if it was just courtesy, HE WAS TALKING TO YOU. He said ‘Hey, beautiful lady that I want to marry soon’ with his eyes.

“Yeah, let’s go” Jesse helped her get up from the couch and you wished to be her at that moment to just casually touch him “See you around”

She was talking to you, but your eyes were only on her friend, Dina had to pinch you discretely for you to react “Oh, yeah, see you!”

Ellie waved ‘bye’ before disappearing from the room. You finally could breath and giggled pushing the dark haired girl out of your lap and to the couch, not only you found out Ellie liked hers but also Jesse talked to you, the tarot reader was right, this year was the year of love for you.

“Can we go? I’m so sleepy”

“Yeah! We have so much to talk and scheme tonight, I just found out about something so fundamental!”

“Fine by me if that means you’re going to talk alone and let me sleep while you pretend I’m not”

“Yeah”

[fatuismooches]

Hello! Just dropping in with another silly question but what are dinner dates looking like with Zandik and the segments? Like if fragile reader was slowly getting better and decided to enjoy a little dinner date with one of the segments each, some not even going out but rather in a private dinning room within the place.

Though it sounds unbelievable to many, there's quite often a segment with you for meals, due to various reasons (shaky hands, lack of appetite/motivation, etc). Of course, over time their presence becomes less and less as you become healthier, however, it is certainly not what one calls a "date." Most of the time it's pretty much just you eating in peace while the segment attends to whatever work he needs to do while simultaneously keeping an eye on you. Which is why you wanted to change that up a bit, both you and your beloveds deserved a small break.

I don't think you would actually go anywhere with any of them. Both of you probably prefer being in the comfort of the lab much more (and also the effort of going out and dressing up and all... so much work... but here you can drag them to bed to cuddle right after! Yeah, is the lab kinda dreary and boring? Maybe, but you can spice it up! And it's the person in front of you that matters, after all.)

It'd be a pain to get Zandik himself to do this, he's always busy and locked up in his lab doing research and work... and furthermore, he barely eats... when he does, he does it too quickly and doesn't even savor the food properly, just so he can get back to experiments quicker. That's not proper for a dinner date! Not sure how you'd convince him, not very easy. Even if you do, it would be quite rushed and probably not what you wanted.

It would be a very special occasion whenever an actual dinner happens. Even though you two would have a lot of a lot of time, he would find it difficult to sit and simply eat for so long. He thinks of his segments and their work. However, just keep your hand placed on his and try to divert his attention. Getting him to start ranting about his projects is pretty easy. Once he gets into the atmosphere, he seems to forget this is a dinner date rather than a chatting one (still eats the cold food like it's no problem).

It's easier to get the segments to do this, mostly because they're vying for your attention as they don't get much from you sometimes...

Omega is by far the most suave with it. He wipes your face when you have something near your mouth, and he helps you recover from joking when he says something that makes you embarrassed. Also forces you to eat the vegetables. Webttore, well, it's pretty chaotic. The "romantic" aspect of a dinner date is lost on him. Be prepared to defend your dessert against him, he will try and take it. The Akademiya segment wouldn't have much of a taste for a good dinner, having become used to hardly edible stuff, but he would appreciate it the most if you cooked for him. His notes are always present at dinner, something that reminds you of being a student with him four hundred years ago. Of course, he'll let you read them if that's what you wish. (Please engage in intellectual conversation with him about them.)

The only segment that you can have an actual dinner with every day really is little Zandy. The conversation is always sweet and fun when you're with the child. However, sometimes you need to remind him to eat before the food gets cold or not to speak with his mouth full...

[hunnysnoops]

₊˚｡⋆❆ 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 ❆⋆｡˚₊

Chapter Two: Vanilla Baby

Kenny McCormick x fem reader

Pages after pages I write for me and no one else. Standing tall, no brick in the wall, I take care of myself. Fickle is as fickle does as solitary links. My, oh my, it's hard because she says just what she thinks

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: Family dinner diverts a bit from what you’re used to.

Warnings: crude language and humour / EDNOS alluded

MASTERLIST

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You reluctantly step out of the car into the crisp winter evening, your breath visible in the cold air. The restaurant in front of you is grand, its large windows glowing warmly against the dark night. You pull your coat tighter around you, wishing you could just stay in the comfort of your room with your dog and a nice playlist. But Todd had been pushing both you and your mother to come to the restaurant he frequented with his buddies from work.

As you walk through the heavy wooden doors, you're immediately greeted by a wave of warmth and the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. The noise swallows you, making you feel even smaller and more out of place. Your mom gives you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and leaves her hand to rest there.

Todd was already rambling, deep into a story about his day at work. "So, there I was, in the middle of this big presentation, and wouldn't you know it, the projector decided to quit on me!" he says, chuckling. "Had to wing it with just a whiteboard and a marker. Felt like I was back in school, you know? But hey, I think I nailed it!"

"I'm sure you did," Your mother smiles in return. The restaurant is beautiful, with chandeliers sparkling above and elegant decorations adding to the festive atmosphere. But all you can think about is how overwhelming it all feels, the lights dimmed to the point it could've been a nightclub.

Todd is still talking, his voice rising above the din of the restaurant. "And then, Jim, y'know, Nancy's husband- oh man, that guy's a character, he-" Todd cracks up in a laugh before even finishing his story "He said-" He tries to speak between his muffled giggles "He said 'did you hear about the guy who dipped his balls in glitter?' and I'm like 'no, what the heck, that's weird,' and then Jim says 'pretty nuts, right?'"

You weren't sure how your mom ever came about liking Todd, she was standoffish, albeit not as quiet as you. She always wrinkled her nose in distaste at loud and obnoxious people, and then she married one and was happier than she had ever been.

A hostess with a sleek black dress and a bright smile approaches, Todd breaks apart from you and your mother for a moment to speak to her, he's still stifling giggles as he does so. The hostess your group to a table near the center of the dining room. You cringe internally at the spot, feeling far too exposed for your liking.

You sit down and try to focus on the menu, though the unfamiliar dishes and elaborate descriptions only add to your stiffness. The menu is printed on heavy, cream-coloured paper, the kind that speaks of luxury and refinement. As you scan the options, your eyes widen at the prices. Everything is so expensive. The entrees are listed with descriptions that go on for several lines, each word seeming to add another dollar to the price.

"Jeez, enough about me," Todd finally caps off yet another story, turning his attention to you "How was your day, kiddo?"

"Good," you reply, glancing down at the menu.

"How was skating?" He asks and then lowers his voice, a little smile on his face while he raises a brow "How's Craig?"

"Oh, Craigs gay," Your mom gives him a little swat on the arm.

"Really? That's awesome," Todd does a little fist pump under the table "He's way nicer than that guy you were dating. What's his name? Y'know the one with the horse teeth."

"Spencer," Your mom fills in the blank and you feel the heat rise to your face, sinking deeper into your chair, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Yeah, Spencer. What an asshole." Todd mutters as he surveys the drink menu. "He was very ratty."

"Wouldn't be surprised if he was in that kitchen under a chef's hat."

Todd huffs a loud boisterous laugh, slapping his knee and wiping tears away from his eyes. With a shaky breath, he steadies himself and looks up at you through his brows "You're driving tonight."

"What?" Your heart picks up. Driving never came easy to you, it made you nervous. You had to go through driving school twice and take your N test three times before you were finally given a license, you thought that they let you pass out of pity.

"I'm drinking, your mom's drinking. Everyone's drinking except you,"

You don't say anything, eyes going wide as you look to your mom for confirmation.

"Yup, I'm getting wasted," She says, looking down at the wine selection "That's why we brought you."

"Not quite," Todd holds out a finger "Speak for yourself, I brought you for some quality family time and some thick juicy cuts of steak."

"Honey, you should get the tomahawk," Your mom murmurs leaning into Todd on their side of the table and pointing at her menu. "What are you getting?" Your mom asks to which you shrug.

"Did you paint your nails?" Todd looks up from his menu, you nod in return. He reaches across the table and grabs your hand, holding it up and inspecting your nail art skills, "Wow, pretty, right?"

"Very," Your mom smiles at the pair of you.

"Should I get this colour?" He asks your mom, comparing your hand to his own. He turns his attention to the waiter who now hovers by the table, Todd holds your hand up "What do you think?"

"Great colour," Kenny says with a smile, his voice smooth and professional, but with a hint of friendliness. Your face drops at the sight of him, eyes going wide like your roadkill caught in headlights. He's wearing a white button-up rolled up to his elbows, a black apron tied around his waist, and you can see the tattoo on his forearm that you never even knew existed. At first, you thought it to be a butterfly but on a second glance, you can see it's a moth with stars on the wings where spots should be. "Good to see you again, Todd."

"Likewise, Ken," He smiles, slinging an arm over your mom's shoulder "This is my gorgeous wife and my beautiful daughter, well step-daughter, same difference. They're pretty quiet but it's okay, I talk enough for the three of us." That statement was surely ringing true as he grinned brightly at Kenny. His voice is loud, and confident, and carries across the room, contrasting sharply with the quieter murmur of the surrounding conversations.

"You must have beat men off with a stick," Kenny grins at Todd, casting a brief glance at you.

"You'd think, right?" He laughs "She doesn't leave the house long enough for the boys to even see her!" Silently, you curse him. Your mom pinches her nose bridge, gently tapping Todd on the thigh as a signal to reel it in. "Anyways," Todd clears his throat "This is Kenny, best guy around."

It was moments like these you wished you wished that Todd wasn't so extroverted. While you thought it was sweet he and your mom balanced each other out and he always had good intentions, his mouth moved faster than his thoughts and he was never able to stop himself from talking at a mile a minute. "Thank you, thank you," Kenny tilts his head in the slightest "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Red wine please, malbec, if you don't have that then the merlot," Your mom gives him a thin-lipped smile.

"We do indeed have Malbec," Kenny jots it down onto his notepad and looks to Todd "Let me guess, soma?"

Just when you think it isn't possible for Todd to smile anymore, he does "What did I tell you?" His gaze flicks between you and your mom "Best guy around, he knows me."

"I try," Then, Kenny turns to you, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. "And for you?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

You look down at the menu, your mind racing. "Um, water, please," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny nods, scribbling it down. "Alright, I'll get those right out for you."

When Kenny retreats back to the server station by the bar to fill in your orders your mom nudges Todd "Can you calm down a bit? you're embarrassing her."

"Me?" Todd asks, looking at you with a hand pressed flat over his heart. Todd chuckles. "Kenny doesn't care! he's a good kid. Plays hockey, works hard. And he's cute, right?" Clearly, you had underestimated how close Todd was to the staff here. You would've thought he had known Kenny for years but in reality, he was just an overly friendly regular.

You bury your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear. "Please, stop."

"Someone's blushing," Todd leans over and pokes your shoulder. "You got a crush?" You quickly shake your head, no. Todd waves you off "You go to the same rink, y'know?" He sits up like a brilliant idea just brushed his mind "You should be friends with him!"

Just as a deer might freeze at the slightest rustle of leaves, you tense at the unexpected words as the conversation turns toward you. Your eyes, wide and panicked, dart around nervously, searching for an escape route or a safe place to retreat and silently pleading that he doesn't push the conversation further.

"Honey, you know she doesn't make friends easily, she can't just become buddies with the waiter," Your mom says. It seemed like every word that came from their mouths was worse than the last. If you were loud enough you might scream from frustration.

"I know but it doesn't hurt to try," He says "How did the brownies go at school? Did everyone like them?"

"Todd, she's almost an adult, not a child." Your mom answers for you "Brownies don't make friendships in high school."

"Why not?" He asks "Everyone loves brownies, if someone gave me a brownie, we would be friends right away. Make twenty brownies and you have twenty new friends."

"She has Craig, and I'm happy with that. Just be glad she isn't crawling the streets with junkies and shooting up heroin."

"Okay," Todd raises his hands in defence "I'm glad."

Kenny comes back to the table, placing your drinks down in front of each of you. Your mom wastes no time in reaching for her glass and taking a sip. "So, how's figure skating going?" he asks casually, surprising you as he places your father's beer down.

Your heart skips a beat. "Fine," You mumble. Your parents look at you expectantly "Uh, how's hockey?"

"Pretty good," he says with a smile. "Got a tournament coming up so there's extra practice on the table."

Your mom and Todd exchange amused glances, clearly noticing the exchange. Todd grins. "Ah, so you two know each other from the rink, huh? Small world."

"Yeah," Kenny says, still looking at you. "She gave me some pointers the other day, she's really good."

"Why didn't I hear about this?" Your mom asks with a smile though there's something brewing in her eyes that tells you that you'll be discussing this later. You answer her with a brief shrug.

"Are we ready to order dinner?" Kenny breaks the unspoken tension between you and your mom.

"I'll have the grilled salmon with lemon butter sauce," she says, handing her menu back to Kenny. "And could I get a side of roasted vegetables with that, please?"

"Absolutely," Kenny replies, jotting down the order. "And for you, sir?" he asks, turning to Todd.

Todd grins, clearly enjoying the interaction. "I think I'll go for the tomahawk steak, medium rare," he says. "With a side of garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach."

"Great choice," Kenny says, his pen moving swiftly across the notepad. "And for you?" He looks at you, his smile softening as he meets your eyes.

Frantically, you scan the menu again, searching for the cheapest thing. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just the garden salad, please."

"Any protein in that?" He asks "We've got chicken, salmon, kidney beans, goat cheese, edamame, tofu, prosciutto, mozzarella, tuna, shrimp."

"No, thank-

"Yes," Todd cuts you off "You need to eat more, you're an athlete. Do you remember what I told you about lean proteins?" He says "Can you throw some chicken in there?"

Kenny looks to you for confirmation "Do you want chicken in your salad."

"Sure," You press your lips into a thin line and hand him your menu.

"That's my girl," Todd nods, taking a swig of his beer. Todd decides to take his teasing to a new level. "You know, Kenny," he starts, leaning back in his chair with a grin and motions for Kenny to come closer. Kenny leans down slightly to hear Todd "My daughter thinks you are SO cute."

You freeze, eyes shooting to avoid making contact with anyone at the table face carefully blank and growing hot. Kenny looks momentarily surprised, but then a wide, amused grin spreads across his face. "Is that so?" he asks, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he looks at you.

Your mom chuckles, trying to smooth things over but clearly enjoying the moment. "Todd, that's enough."

You sink lower in your seat, wishing you had faked an illness and were curled up under your duvet. Kenny, however, seems to be enjoying every second of your embarrassment. He leans slightly closer, his grin never faltering. "Well, I'm flattered," he says softly. "I'll go get your orders in," he says, though his eyes linger on you a moment longer. "But I'll be around if you need anything else."

"Why did you say that?" You exasperate, keeping your voice hushed "You were the only one who called him cute and you're a fifty-year-old man."

"You need to face these things head-on sometimes," Todd says, his tone light-hearted though you felt heavier than you had ever been "You can't just put your headphones in and run off to hide somewhere-

"I'm going to the bathroom," you say abruptly, pushing yourself from the chair and begin navigating your way through the tables. As the initial embarrassment from Todd's comment hits you like a wave, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The friendly chatter around you fades into the background, and your heart starts to race.

"Oh," Todd raises his eyebrows in slight surprise "I stand corrected."

You catch Kenny's eyes while fleeing the scene, he looks at you and opens his mouth to speak but for once you beat him to it "Imsosososososorrypleaseignoremyparentshesmakingthingsupthanks." You say so fast that he doesn't even process the words and in the blink of an eye you're gone.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you and lean against the cool tile wall, taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself. The soft hum of the restaurant is muffled here, giving you a brief respite from the chaos of your thoughts. You start to pace back and forth, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Why did Todd have to say that? You run your hands through your hair, feeling the frustration and embarrassment bubbling up.

You replay the moment in your mind, cringing at the memory of Todd's teasing and Kenny's amused grin. Pacing around the small bathroom, you try to calm your racing thoughts. You focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, willing your heart to slow down. Despite your best efforts, the blush remains stubbornly on your cheeks.

It's not that you don't like Kenny. In fact, the opposite is true, and that's what makes it all the more overwhelming. His clear advances in days prior- it's all too much to handle at once.

You stop pacing and lean against the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks are still flushed, your eyes wide and uncertain. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping it will help cool you down both physically and emotionally.

Had you been on your own, you wouldn't be worked up. That's how you liked it. Everything was easier when you were able to cut out what you didn't want but Todd's boisterous laughter was ringing through your head like a fork shoved into a blender.

Everything was embarrassing; Todd's rushed and unthoughtful comments, your mom's reminders to quiet down, and your reaction to all of it were only making it worse. You compose yourself the way you would a song or a speech, trying to remember who you were away from all of this humiliation.

You had been hiding in the bathroom far longer than you would've liked, to the point your mom was texting you to see if you were okay. You look back up at yourself in the mirror, giving a little thumbs up before pushing the door open and navigating back to your table.

As you return to the table, you find Kenny already there, the food has been dropped off and he's chatting easily with your mom and Todd. He's standing with a confident, relaxed posture, his smile bright and engaging. It's clear that your parents are thoroughly charmed by him.

"-and that's how I managed to get the puck into the net at the last second," Kenny is saying, finishing up a story. "It was a wild game."

Your mom laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That sounds amazing, Kenny. You must be a great hockey player."

Kenny chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck modestly. "I try my best."

Todd nods appreciatively. "That's the spirit. Teamwork makes all the difference. So, how do you balance hockey with school and work? That must be a lot to handle."

Kenny shrugs with a smile. "It keeps me busy, but I like it that way. Plus, it teaches me discipline and time management. And honestly, I enjoy all of it."As you take your seat, Kenny's eyes flicker to you, and he gives you a subtle, knowing smile. "Welcome back," he says warmly.

Todd, not missing a beat, leans forward with a grin. "You know, Kenny here was just telling us about his plans after high school. Sounds like he's got a bright future ahead."

"Oh?" you say, trying to sound casual "What are your plans?"

Kenny's smile widens as he looks at you. "I'm hoping to get a hockey scholarship. I've been talking to a few colleges, and things are looking promising."

Your mom claps her hands together, delighted. "That's incredible, you must be so excited."

"I am," Kenny admits, his gaze steady on yours. "But it's also a bit nerve-wracking. There's a lot of pressure, you know?" Kenny then shifts the conversation smoothly, including your parents again. "But enough about me. How about you all? Do you have any holiday plans?"

Todd laughs. "Just the usual family gatherings. Lots of food, lots of noise. You know how it is."

"Sounds like fun," Kenny says genuinely. "Family time is the best, especially during the holidays."

"Do you have a big family?"

"I do but I don't see them much, my older brother moved out and my sister lives in another city."

"That's too bad," Todd frowns exaggeratedly "Well, I hope you visit them."

"Yeah, as much as I can," He says, glancing around the restaurant "I really should check on my other tables but I will be around if you need anything at all."

You tune out of the conversation entirely, picking at your salad while Todd asks you questions before he answers them himself. "Why do you think it's called New Zealand? Was there an old Zealand or just Zealand?" He laughs "I'm just being silly."

The anxiety from earlier lingers at the edges of your mind, making it hard to fully enjoy the evening that you weren't fond of from the beginning. Your parents are engrossed in their conversation, Todd animatedly discussing a recent project at work while your mom listens attentively. You stay quiet, letting their voices wash over you as you try to push through the discomfort.

As you spear a leaf of crisp lettuce with your fork, your appetite feels as elusive as a whisper in the wind. Each bite is a struggle, the vegetables seeming to lose their crispness and flavour as soon as they touch your tongue. Your appetite had been curved by everything around you.

You try to force yourself to eat, pushing the fork through the salad. But each bite feels like a chore, the act of chewing becoming laborious and unenjoyable. Swallowing becomes a challenge, the food seeming to stick in your throat despite your efforts to wash it down with sips of water between each bite.

Your mom casts you a long glance, her eyebrows drawn in and lips downturned as she watches you place your fork down and push the remainder of your meal away, she bookmarks this little moment and decides to table it for another time.

Todd absolutely ravages his steak, tearing into the meat like a wild animal devouring what it could without knowing when it would eat again. You fought the urge to gag, instead turning your attention to your mom who elegantly sliced off bits of her salmon.

Just as you think the meal is winding down, Todd claps his hands together with a grin. "Alright, what do you say we order some dessert for the table? Can't leave this place without trying something sweet!"

Todd signals Kenny over, who arrives promptly with that ever-present smile. "Sounds like you're ready for dessert."

You immediately shake your head "No-

"You need to eat more," Todd says "Eat, eat, eat," He tries to create a little chant which your mom thankfully doesn't join in on. After silence falls over the table at his failed attempt to start a rally he clears his throat "Two chocolate lava cames and one tiramisu for the wife. This one bakes all the freaking time so she's a bit of a dessert connoisseur," He points at you and tilts his head.

A few minutes later, he returns with the desserts. The rich and enticing chocolate lava cake appears to have a molten centre just waiting to be found. The tiramisu is exquisitely layered, featuring creamy mascarpone and delicate ladyfingers dipped in espresso.

Kenny places the desserts on the table, but when he sets down the chocolate lava cake in front of you, you notice something extra. Right next to your dessert, on the edge of the plate, is a dollop of whipped cream shaped into a smiley face. You couldn't keep a straight face, your lips curved just the slightest though it doesn't go unnoticed by Kenny.

[ghostofaboy]

I Can Bring You In Hot

Summary: Maxwell is Din's latest bounty but in an attempt to ensure his freedom he's willing to offer the Mandalorian anything.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Maxwell Lord Rating: Explicit | Word count: 2616

Warnings: Oral sex, face fucking, facial, Dom/sub elements, Din's helmet stays on, light bondage

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This was a request from @boliv-jenta as part of my 200 Follower Celebration. Divider by @saradika-graphics

"Please wait! I'll do anything you want, just let me go."

Din frowned under his helmet at the cowering man before him and sighed. Jobs had been slim on the ground for a while, and this one was barely going to cover the cost of his fuel. Usually he preferred to stick to the Outer Rim, but some rash young group of bounty hunters had snatched up all the local jobs by the time he'd gotten back to Nevarro last week. So it had been this, or a trip to Balmorra and Din really didn't want to be that close to the Core.

So here he was on Ord Mantell in the Mid Rim chasing some 'businessman' who ran out of his investors. Maxwell Lord had apparently been the toast of Coruscant just after the Empire fell, but three years on it didn't look like things were working out for him.

"Please." Maxwell repeated. "I just need another week or so, and I'll be able to pay them. Then the bounty will be called off. Please. I'll do whatever you want."

Din snorted. They all said that. This man probably could never imagine how many times Din had heard that over his career as a bounty hunter. 

"I can bring you in warm, or I can-"

"Please!" Maxwell cut him off, getting shakily to his feet from the spot he'd dropped to his knees to the moment Din appeared in his office. "I can't pay, I need the money to settle this debt, but there are other things I could do."

"Such as?"

"I can compensate you for your trip here." Maxwell gestured over to his terminal. "Refuel your ship, for example. I know the bounty on me isn't that high. To be honest, that's why I was so surprised someone took it. My investors, well, I think they put it out to scare me into getting their money."

Every instinct was telling Din to just grab this guy and take his payment. He would get his credits, be able to refuel... and then what? Damn it! Maxwell was right. The bounty was half what he'd usually consider taking. Most of his pay would go on fuel, with barely anything left over for food or to hand to the Covert. 

"I'm listening." The words were out of his mouth before the rest of Din's brain could engage.

"Good!" Maxwell smiled brightly at him. "Well, yes, I can refuel your ship and... and... if you let me go..." Maxwell trailed off, diverting his eyes from Din as he thought.

"You're going to have to do better than just fuel." Din shook his head. "Something much better."

Maxwell swallowed hard, nodding as his eyes rested on Din. For a few moments, he just stared, and the Mandalorian could feel the other man analyzing him. Those dark chocolate eyes were filled with worry, but there was an intelligence behind them that Din rarely got to see with his usual quarry. Finally, Maxwell straightened himself, brushing a few errant hairs from his forehead before looking Din directly in the visor.

"If you let me go, I promise to not only refuel your ship, but I will make any dream you have come true."

"Make my dr-" Din shook his head, almost laughing. "What?"

"You must have wishes, dreams, desires." Maxwell gestured to Din. "I've heard Mandalorian's have high libidos. Surely you have needs that require fulfilling."

This was a new one. Usually when trying to get away from him his bounties would offer Din credits but this definitely new.

"And what if my dreams are not to your taste?" Din cocked his head. He was intrigued now. If Maxwell was truly offering sex in return for freedom, Din wanted to see just how far the other man was willing to take it.

But to his surprise Maxwell laughed, not a dismissive one aimed at Din, but a soft surprised chuckle.

"I assure you my tastes are quite broad, Mandalorian. If you promise to let me go tomorrow morning, you can do whatever you want to me tonight."

He should have said no and placed the businessman in carbonite. He should have done his job, gotten his measly credits and taken the reputation merits with the Guild. But instead, Din let out a long sigh. 

"Deal."

The room Maxwell led him into was much more modestly decorated than Din would have expected. When studying him to learn where he might be, Maxwell had given Din the impression of a brash extrovert. The other man wore well tailored suits with bejeweled cuff links and large gold rings that screamed for attention.

His ads on the holonet were all smooth talking pitches aimed at making the viewer feel as though he were talking directly to them, all the while appealing to as broad an audience as possible. Some called him a con-man, but Din was sure Maxwell would have preferred holo-personality. The type of person who thrives in that environment of influencing others. But this room had Din second guessing his assessment.

While it was a large suite, with huge bed and plush furniture, it was by no means extravagant. Din had seen how some bounties spent their credits and the type of gilded facade that passed for wealth. This was understated, classy even. 

"Welcome." Maxwell spread his arms after throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair. "I'd say relax and make yourself at home, although I doubt you'll be taking any of your armor off."

"No." Din turned back to face Maxwell, who simply nodded with apparent understanding.

"In that case," he swallowed hard, "what would you like me to do?"

In the short walk here from the office, Din had found Maxwell in his mind had been running through every fantasy he'd ever had. Some were immediately off the table. Either involving Din removing more clothes than he was comfortable with or requiring a level of intimacy that was part and parcel of the dream. 

Finally, he'd settled on something he'd always wanted to try but had never had the guts to ask for. With partners he knew Din wasn't sure how to bring up the subject, and when paying for sex he preferred to keep things simple. But with Maxwell, well, Din had the opportunity to really push things both for himself and the charismatic businessman.

"Take your clothes off."  Din's command was brief and to the point as he set his rifle down on a table close to the door. Never taking his eyes off Maxwell, Din's cock twitched to life as the other man didn't hesitate and began efficiently removing his clothing. 

With each layer more sun-kissed skin was revealed and Din started to marvel at the differences between them. By necessity Din tried to keep himself in good shape, not bulging with muscles like some of his brothers back at the Covert but toned at least, but Maxwell was beautifully soft. 

Thick, full thighs, a small round belly and a pair of tantalizingly grabbable tits were all bared for Din. Finally, as Maxwell pulled down his underwear, Din’s eyes locked onto the other man’s erection jutting out from under the slight swell of his stomach. He was much smaller than Din, but thick, with a heavy set of balls that swung as he kicked his underwear away to the side.

Din’s legs moved of their own accord and he began circling Maxwell, who to his credit stood proudly nude and erect for Din to appraise. As he reached Maxwell’s back, Din reached out and firmly pushed the other man’s shoulder down. Maxwell understood immediately and bend forward, planting his feet further apart to steady himself as he gave Din a better view of his ass.

Gently pulling Maxwell’s cheeks apart, Din could see a flushed pink ring of muscle and as ran a finger to teased at the flesh, Din smiled as Maxwell’s hole briefly gaped. He could hear a short intake of breath as Maxwell showed off for him, and Din instinctually knew the Maxwell must have a dildo he used on a regular basis. Slapping Maxwell’s ass, Din glanced back towards the bed. Perhaps he’d make Maxwell ride it for Din later, make the businessman put on a show for him with his favorite toy.

“Hands behind your back.” Din unclipped his cuffs from his belt and waited for Maxwell to obey.

After a slight hesitation, Maxwell shifted, positioning his hands behind his back, letting out a quiet whine as Din secured them with the cuffs. Then, with another firm hand on his shoulder Din helped lower Maxwell onto his knees.

Walking back over to the table where he’d left his rifle, Din quickly and efficiently removed his bandolier, explosive charges and any weapons he had on him. The last thing he needed during this was an accident and he was confident Maxwell wasn’t going to try anything stupid. After removing his vambraces and gloves Din returned to Maxwell, who had remained on his knees, his short, fat cock dripping onto the tiles between his knees.

Striding over, Din planted himself in front of the submissive Maxwell watching as the other man raised his head to look up at him. It was time. Now or never for Din to play out this fantasy or call it off and carry Maxwell back to the Crest as he was. Last chance to turn back.

Tugging open the fly of his jumpsuit, Din took in a slow steady breath as he pulled out his achingly hard cock. From his seat on the floor, Maxwell beamed up him, licking his lips as he waited for his instructions.

“You bite, you die.” Din growled, grabbing a fist full of Maxwell’s hair.

“I would never.” Maxwell sounded genuinely offended before leaning forward to gently suckle on the fat tip of Din’s cock.

He’d always wanted to try this and as Din watched Maxwell expertly work his length into his mouth he had to admit it felt better than he’d ever imagined. There was a certain amount of trust needed for oral sex and it pained Din that he’d never been in the position before to either give or receive. But here he was watching his bounty swirl his tongue around the head of his dick, each lap and flick of the other man’s tongue sending spikes of desire through him.

Din let out a long moan as Maxwell began tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft before returning to the head, teasing at his slit for entrance. Looking up at Din through long dark eyelashes, Maxwell parted his lips and began to work Din’s full length into his mouth, saliva running out of the corners as he opened wide enough for Din’s girth. As each inch disappeared into Maxwell’s hot wet mouth, Din’s skin prickled with arousal as he fought the urge to close his eyes. As much as he wanted to give into the bliss, he wanted to watch, to see Maxwell’s beautifully flushed face take his cock, to savor this moment.

Without the use of his hands, Din could tell Maxwell was struggling slightly. Obvious used to using mouth and hands in tandem, Din had stopped him from employing his usual techniques, but he was slowly adapting. After working along the shaft a few times, Din could feel as Maxwell flattened his tongue and finally took Din to the back of his mouth. As Maxwell’s nose nestled in Din’s unruly bush, the Mandalorian marvelled as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Maxwell’s throat. 

The burning wetness closing around him, enveloping his cock was almost overwhelming and Din’s head swam with heavy fog. Holding himself there for a few seconds, Maxwell spluttered slightly and withdrew, leaving Din slick with drool as he returned to gently suck and teasing on the fat cockhead. 

“Can you take more?” Din growled, tightening his grip on Maxwell’s hair and watching as the other man’s eyes flickered up to him.

“You want to fuck my face?”

“Yes.”

“I can take it.”

That was all Din needed as he pushed his length back into Maxwell’s throat, firmly and steadily, until the other man’s lips were stretched taut around the base. Slowly at first, Din began to move his hips, testing Maxwell’s limits as he used the other man’s mouth. Looking up at him, Maxwell was adjusting his breathing, sending puffs of hot air against Din’s exposed skin as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. 

“You’ve done this before.” Din teased, bringing his other hand up to grip Maxwell’s head fully. Maxwell responded with a wink and hummed around Din’s cock, making Din curse and buck his hips.

Shifting his feet further apart to steady himself, Din took a deep breath as he began to quicken his pace. The fire inside him was a roaring inferno now, and Din was not accustomed to ignoring it. Usually quickly seeing to himself in his bunk, Din was used to rapid bursts of pleasure, sprints not marathons, and this entire encounter with Maxwell was quickly undoing him. 

Each thrust into Maxwell’s waiting throat sent powerful thrums of pleasure coursing through him. Each time he hit the back of Maxwell’s throat, Din blinked away the dizzying urge to cum. His cock throbbed inside Maxwell, who gazed up at Din with lust blown eyes, urging him on, begging for more.

Din’s balls swung against Maxwell’s chin as the pace increased. Frantic, save for the briefest of pauses to allow the businessman to catch his breath, before pondering his mouth once more. Maxwell’s eyes watered, yet still he stared up at Din’s visor, as each blink sent tears cascading down his cheeks. 

The sound of the outside world melted away. There was nothing else now except the wet gagging sounds of Maxwell choking on Din’s cock as the Mandalorian hungrily fucked his face. Then with a vibrating whine, Din watch Maxwell pinch his eyes shut and felt the other man shudder. Peering down past his own length, Din could see Maxwell’s own untouched cock twitch as it shot bursts of cum onto the floor.

Din felt the tension inside him snap. Pulling roughly out of Maxwell’s mouth, leaving a long trail of connecting saliva, Din was just in time to stop himself from cumming down Maxwell’s throat. Instead, Din grunted and moaned as he began to paint the other man’s face with his seed. Rope after rope covered Maxwell’s beautifully disheveled features as Din spilled himself in hot spurts that landed and ran together.

Stepped back on trembling legs, Din panted as he took in the scene before him, the heady rush of his climax ebbing away and allowing him to fully appreciate his actions. A small puddle of cum sat between Maxwell’s legs, as his small dick soften and retreated, while Maxwell himself sat back to rest on his kneels panting heavily. His face was covered in cum and drool, dripping from onto his chest as the businessman gasped for air. Slowly, Maxwell reopened his eyes, searching the space in front of him until he found Din’s visor. 

“Face fucking and a facial.” Maxwell’s chest heaved as he blinked at Din. “Hard, fast and filthy. Was it everything you wanted?”

“I’m not through with you yet.” Din ran a finger through the sticky release covering Maxwell’s face before offering it to him to suck. As Maxwell suckled on the digit, swaying slightly with a playful smile on his face. “You look so perfect on your knees, ready for me to use.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Maxwell grinned. “What’s next?”

[stardusthuntress]

True Partners - Ch. 1

Din Djarin x femaleMandalorian!reader 

Word Count: ~3.2k 

Summary: Din Djarin finds himself in a bit of a sticky spot and calls in an old friend for assistance… one he may or may not have a thing for… 

TW: this one is pretty mild, but it will get spicy later… very spicy… canon-typical violence (Mando is pursued by an opposing party, nothing new there); but it does get a bit suggestive at the end and the next part will be very NSFW, so I’m just gonna rate this whole thing NSFW; Din and partner chat about getting intimate and where their limits are, trying to give this a healthy relationship vibes, you guys will have to let me know if I missed anything that goes back on that in any way! FYI, Din is starting to question his strict rules about being Mandalorian, I tried not to make too many conjectures about it, but just bear that in mind if dissenting about his culture is something you aren’t comfortable with! 

A/N: please enjoy this fun little snaggle and the Top Gun movie reference I snuck in there! Also I know very little about the N1, so please excuse any mistakes I might have made or conjectures/assumptions I made, consider it creative license required something to keep the story moving! 

Mando’a: 

Buir = parent, in this case, father 

Keldable kiss = a Mandalorian habit of giving a kiss without removing the helmet, consists of the tapping of foreheads together, usually two beskar-clad foreheads, but it doesn’t have to be 

dividers by: @/djarrex

Blaster fire scattered through the rings of the planet, as the Mandalorian took down his quarry, one by one. He’d managed to reduce their numbers back to something he could handle more easily, but it hadn’t been easy. 

Not long after they cornered him, one of them had managed a direct hit to his fuel hatch, and his fuel levels were steadily dropping. It was a slow leak, but it was still a leak. There was no way he was getting out of this one alone. 

Somewhere between reducing his opponent's game pieces from 14 to 11, he managed to send a single ping to an old friend. One he’d teamed up with for a few years, long before Grogu came into his life. Rumor had it, she resided in this sector of the galaxy. He wondered if she’d still be up for teaming up with him again. They’d parted on good terms, but he still occasionally wished they had let their team-up become something more. No matter, right now he had a few too many starfighters working against him, and his little one in his lap. Not the time for distractions. 

Fortunately, this planet had a magnetic field that interacted with some of the rocks in its rings in strange ways. Ways he could use. 

He dodged, dove, and spiraled his way through and around a few that would scatter his signature and make him hard to track. Behind him, one of the starfighters attempted to skim a rather large asteroid to cut corners and catch him faster, but a large obstacle is also a visibility gamble, and it hadn’t worked in their favor. He could see the reflection of the explosion in the transparisteel of his cockpit. 

Grogu babbled happily, arms in the air. Mando chuckled. 

Only 10 left. 

He pulled a tight turn and then diverted between several large rocky chunks, and flipped his engines to reverse and then up and low to kill his speed and add a slight rotation, lest he lose all his momentum and let his leak get worse. 

His prey fell for his trap, swerving around the rock right in front of him, trying to cut him off. One shot from his barrels and the clueless pilot was little more than a smattering of stardust. 

Just 9 more to go. 

As he swerved and dodged, closing in on yet another poorly trained pilot, his comm crackled to life in his cockpit, a familiar voice drifting through the void between them as a few blasts from a new ship entered the fray. 

“Hello, old friend! You look like you could use some assistance?” He didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling. 

“You could say that,” He responded, trying to keep the giddiness from his own voice. 

“You sure got yourself into a fun little tangle here,” she quipped, zipping in behind him, between the Mandalorian’s N1 and his pursuers. “Brake right!” 

On cue, Mando abruptly changed course, diverting from the targeting system of the opponent that had been closing in on him. 

“You seem to be leaving a breadcrumb trail of fuel behind you. Is that why you called?” 

“It is,” he answered, in his usual short but direct habit. 

The metallic sound of an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh crackled through the comms. Mando felt a twinge of guilt for finding a reason to part ways all those years ago. He'd missed her. 

Somewhere in the distance, he saw blaster fire and a flash of orange and yellow. 

8 left.

As they chased and swerved like a coordinated team, he finally got a good look at her ship. 

“That’s a bigger ship than I remember you having,” he commented. 

Two explosions rocked the rings around them as debris scattered, only 6 more to go. 

“Yeah, got lucky. It was given to me by some good friends.” 

“Given to you? It looks like a Zyggerian Slave Ship…” Mando’s voice was laced with doubt. Was this the same woman he remembered? 

“It WAS, at one point in its history. But you know I take down Slavers on sight.” 

He chuckled with relief, “So that hasn’t changed a bit.” 

“Nope! How about you? Anything new in your life?” She asked, she always did have more fun with battles when they were paired with witty banter. 

“See for yourself.” He diverted up and left, soaring in front of her cockpit, allowing her to get a good look at the occupants of his little Nabooian starfighter, AND knock out his pursuer as it trailed unsuspecting through her sights. 

5 left. 

“Do I spy a little foundling in your lap, Djarin?” 

He chuckled, stealing a glance down at the little guy tucked into his bandolier. “That you do.” 

In his lap, Grogu squealed with joy, seemingly convinced they were riding the best rollercoaster he’d ever been on. 

“Sure sounds like a cute little one! Though I have to say, I think that leak you’ve got is getting worse. Tell ya what, why don’t we corral them over by that big dent of a crater in the obnoxiously round asteroid over there and finish this?” 

“How do you propose we get them over there?” He was getting nervous about his fuel levels too. 

“What else? Make ‘em think they cornered us, of course!” 

“That was always one of your favorite maneuvers,” he noted. 

“Yeah. It’s fun, and it’s fast, and it’s efficient. All of which are beneficial right about now.” 

A few maneuvers later, the pair crossed in front of the big crater and swung out and behind their pursuers, cornering them against the crater they were about to make larger, and opening fire. 

“See? Fast and finished! How about that?” 

“I might need you to come to me….” He seemed a little embarrassed about it, though someone who didn’t know him very well wouldn’t be able to hear the hidden pain in his voice. 

“Alright, hang tight. I’m gonna scoop you into the cargo bay and we can take a look at your ship. Can’t wait to meet the little one!” 

Din sighed, what an embarrassing way to say hi to an old flame. 

A few minutes later, Din stepped out of his ship into the cargo bay of hers. 

“No. Grogu, you stay there. I need both hands to take a look at the damage. Maybe she can take us to Tatooine if it’s too bad.” 

“I don’t know who or what is on Tatooine, but I should have all the tools you need here to fix it on this ship. Though if that’s an N1 I might not have the custom parts on hand you’ll need to get her running again.” She tried to hide the jealousy in her voice. Clearly Tatooine had something or someone meaningful to him. 

“It is. Good eye.” He notes, stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his helmet as he knelt beside his ship, reaching into the gaps between hull plates to better assess the damage. “I figure if Peli and the Jawas can’t get the right parts, maybe Boba can.” 

“Good friends of yours?” It was a good thing he wasn’t looking at her, she was struggling to keep the jealousy from making her look a bit put out. 

“Of a sort,” his voice held no clues as to their significance to him. So, he was back to being his usual vague self when he answered her questions. This would be fun. 

He stands, satisfied with his assessment of his ship, “Looks like it’s just minor damage, though I might need a new fuel hatch and hinge.” 

“If you want one that’s a little more blaster proof I could make you one with a touch of beskar, or at least reinforce it with a bit more shielding than the original design had. As much as I love the J-type Newbian ships, every ship flying between the stars has a few flaws, and that was one of theirs.” 

“And yet, you’re flying this,” he gestures to the ship around them, finally taking a chance to look around, and to take a good look at her. 

He takes a deep breath, just looking at her. “You’re still wearing the armor.” His voice has the twinge of memory in it. “But still sans helm.”

“I am still of Mandalorian heritage, the beskar was passed down in my family to me. I am still Mandalorian, according to some traditions, just not all of them… since I took off my helmet… I got tired of never seeing the stars with my own eyes, of never getting a chance to openly react to people’s expressions without coming across as gruff and unyielding. Though that can be very helpful, it can also be a negative thing at times. Children tend to fear a face they cannot read.” She clarified, unsure of how he would react to it given that he seemed to be handling that very scenario just fine. 

“I know,” he muttered. “I thought… you were the only one that did that…” 

“I take it you have met others now?” She asked. 

“Yes…” his tone implied he was still grappling with it, but he seemed to be accepting that it was a way to live and remain Mandalorian. “I had to atone for it…. But if I hadn’t taken it off, I would never have been able to rescue him.” His visor turned back towards the open cockpit of his little starfighter. 

A delighted gurgle from the cockpit of the N1 announced the appearance of a little green head with big ears and curious eyes. 

“Well hello there, little one!” she cooed, excitement adding a happy glimmer to her eyes as she took small steps towards the ship.

The little green bean lifted his arms to her, like he wanted her to pick him up. 

She looked hesitantly back at Din. “Can I pick him up?” 

Din nodded, once, but watched, carefully as she stepped forward and scooped up his little bundle of joy. 

“Hello! Aren’t you a sweet thing!” She automatically began to sway back and forth when he was in her arms. “What’s your name?” 

The baby babbled gibberish at her, reaching up to put a little hand on her chin. 

Din found himself getting jealous. Perhaps there were pros to not wearing the helmet anymore. He’d been struggling with the issue of wearing the helmet at all times since he’d gotten Grogu back and Bo had been allowed to remove her helmet. Now, once again, he found himself debating. To distract himself, he focused on her question. 

“Grogu,” Din stated, “His name is Grogu.” 

“Grogu!” She repeated, and the little one looked up at her expectantly, “Is that you?” 

A little grin and bubbly laugh echoed from the child on her hip. And she laughed too, hugging the child to her. 

“Goodness, you’re a cute little one!” She giggled. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to hang out with foundlings!” She told his contented little face. 

Din stepped forward, silent as ever, unsure if he wished she could see the smile he wore beneath his helmet. He was glad she was getting along well with the kid already. 

“Oh, does Buir want you back already?” She asked as Din approached. 

Grogu giggled and extended his arms towards Din. 

She smiled and passed him the baby, watching as Din stepped into father mode. Extra gentle hands cradling the baby’s head and back as he looked him over, adjusting his little coat, then tucking him into his hand, settling him to face outwards. 

When Din looked back up, he found her watching him closely, biting her lip. He felt himself release a silent sigh. So she did still want him too. Maybe it wasn’t too late for the two of them after all. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, content to just be around each other again. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Din started, voice a little hoarse, unsure of how much he wanted to say. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she replied, laying a hand on his shoulder in her unyielding need to be nearer to him. Her face turned towards his pauldron, a look of surprise on her face. “You got a signet!” 

“We got a signet,” Din corrected, proud of his little clan. 

She hesitantly retracted her hand. “Oh! We! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were… uh…” 

Din had forgotten he hadn’t done anything to assure her that he too had not yet found a partner! 

“We’re a clan of two now,” Din said, his voice full of pride as he looked at the small bundle in his arms and it looked up at him. “I adopted Grogu. He’s my apprentice.” 

“Oh! Two!” She breathed a sigh of relief, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “Well, your clan is always welcome wherever I call home! Speaking of, if we want to be the most efficient with fuel, it’ll take us about 2 days to get to Tatooine from here. Why don’t you two come upstairs to the main cabin and make yourselves comfortable? I have food if you’re hungry, and space to lay down - with privacy! If you need to take that helmet off, or take a nap, or anything. There’s a spare room if you want it.”

“Grogu is always hungry,” Din comments, making her laugh. 

“Well, hopefully, I have something he likes! Follow me,” and she headed back up the ladder to the crew compartments. 

Grogu takes a nap after eating almost twice his weight in snacks. 

Din finds himself making a point to get to know his former partner again. 

“Well I gotta say, I remember you having a silver ship, but that’s a much smaller silver ship than I remember you having,” she says with a sly smile, echoing his comment from earlier. 

“Yeah, Razor Crest took too big of a hit…” Din explained. He couldn’t make himself say more. It was still a bit hard for him to admit he didn’t have a real space he could call home, for the kid’s sake. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she looked at him with concern, eyes boring into his helmet. 

Sometimes he swore she could see through it like she had x-ray vision. Or at least she made him feel seen, the real man beneath the beskar. 

“Hmm, well, perhaps you don’t have one yet, but you could have space in a ship to call home soon… if you wanted…” she hinted. 

Din was ecstatic, but also debatably certain that he was reading too much into it, so he just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. 

She could see his chest plate rising and falling rapidly, and knew her playful comment was starting to get to him. 

She smiled at him, and Din almost melted right there. He was sure she could hear his breathing through the modulator as he tried desperately to get his emotions under control. 

After 2 days he’s making excuses to stay in her company…. 

After 2 weeks he starts flirting more directly. A wry grin from a visiting Boba (also sans helm) followed by a laugh from Peli tells her they’ve never seen Mando act this way before and it definitely means what she thinks it does. Things just flow so smoothly between them, it’s like no time has passed at all. And even the few moments when they do catch each other off guard with something, it is always quickly resolved with a laugh and a teasing nudge or a quick chat and acceptance of differences or an alteration of habits to accommodate personal preferences. 

After 2 months, he finds himself pulling her into his lap and resting the metallic dome of his helmet against her temple after putting the baby to bed. 

She hums with a contented smile and leans into him, welcoming his first attempt at a keldable kiss. 

Din’s grip on her waist tightens. 

“You know, I had one hell of a crush on you when we were partners… I think I still do, actually.” She, a woman whom he personally knows to be a badass Mandalorian warrior capable of knocking him on his ass in minutes during combat training sessions, seems shy when she says it. 

Din chuckles. “I did too, and still do.” 

She swiftly turns in his arms and nuzzles into the cape covering his shoulders. 

“You seem to have made peace with my decision to not wear the helmet all the time?” She asks, still curious what his stance is on the matter now. 

“I have,” is all he says. “Are you okay with my decision to keep mine on?” 

“Yes,” she answers, and places a quick kiss on the side of his helm to reassure him. “Do you think Grogu will be okay with this too?” 

Din reaches up to put a hand under her chin so he can look her in the eye when he says it, “I think he’s already accepted that you’re not going anywhere.”

She laughs and hides in his shoulder again. 

“You’re good with him,” Din tells her. 

“So are you,” she answers. “He adores you, ya know.” She surfaces from his cape to say it. 

Din tilts his helmet up to look into her eyes, “Will you stay with us?” 

Her eyes widen with excitement, and she bursts into a grin. “Yes!” She shifts, fixing him with an expression that hints at a question for him too. “Would you like to move into my bedroom while we’re busy adventuring?” 

“Only if you’ll move into my cabin with us on Navarro when we’re more domestic.” He teases. 

She giggles and nods. “I would love to! Though, perhaps first we should try sharing a bed for a few nights, make sure everything works out smoothly?” 

“I don’t know if I’d be able to resist being more intimate with you if we try that.” He admits, quietly. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she whispers. 

Din masks his groan as a grunt as he shifts beneath her. 

She giggles. “Don’t hold back, Din. I need you too!” she croons, the cool beskar of his helmet brushing against her lips as he leans into her. 

“There’s a few things we need to discuss, first.” He seems nervous to even say it. 

“Okay,” she says with understanding, as though this isn’t such an intimate conversation. “Let’s talk about how to do this,” she encourages. 

He can take his clothes off, but not his helmet unless her eyes are covered… and he very much wants to be able to kiss her… everywhere, though he’s not sure he’s ready to admit that last part out loud just yet. 

So she offers to get a blindfold… and or a sleep mask so they can sleep together… 

Din nods, excitedly. “You would do that, for me?” 

“Even better,” she states, “I already use a sleep mask regularly, so it’s just a matter of adding you to the bed, Love.” 

Din grips her waist tightly with excitement. 

“Do you want to start tonight, or wait a few nights first?” She asks, letting him take the reigns since this is about his comfort level. 

“Let’s wait a few nights,” he thinks it through, “I want to tell Grogu about this change before it happens… so he knows where to find me… if he needs me.” 

“Okay, just let me know when you’re ready,” she states, placing a lingering kiss on the edge of his visor.

Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it! And NO dropping it into an AI to finish it for me! That’s stealing my work and feeding it to an AI without my consent. It is not okay to give an AI something you didn’t write yourself! 

taglist: @bambambunny @kenobidevil @cw80831

[tootoomanycats]

PERFORMANCES: Chapter 1 -The Storm of The Century

Summary: In the wake of a historic hurricane raging across the treacherous waters of the East Blue and Grand Line, islands and their resilient inhabitants must either adapt or flee to ensure survival. Sleep Haven, a once-tranquil oasis, now finds itself shattered by the merciless storm. What took years to build and nurture with your own hands lies in ruins, demolished in mere hours. What should have been a fleeting tempest stretched into endless months of devastation. With little left but dwindling supplies and scant funds, you and your fellow islanders embarked on a desperate flight for survival. In your hour of dire need, you reached out to a mysterious benefactor whose aid came at a staggering price. The cost: to divert the attention of the clownish "Leader" of the Cross Guild. As events unfold on BariBari Island, amidst schemes and dangers, you find yourself grappling with emotions long suppressed. Is your interaction with the clown merely a facade, or is it awakening something you've denied yourself for years? Will the repercussions of this precarious pact only affect the flamboyant clown, or will it unravel the last vestiges of your guarded heart as well? The storm may have ravaged Sleep Haven, but the true tempest now brews within your soul and the choices you are forced to make.

Warnings for THIS chapter: None

Performances Master List

Pairings: Buggy/Reader

Word Count: 4,417 Words

AO3 Link

Warning for this Story:

Reader is a retired sex worker

Both Buggy/Reader are in their early to late 30's

There will be smut scenes

There will also be cute fluff scenes

Please note that betrayal does happen to Buggy in this and as of right now I still dont know if Buggy will forgive Reader or not.

Switch/Switch sexual dynamics so its really anyones game.

Author Notes: Hello everyone! Please note that this story already has some spicy teasers that can be found on the MASTER LIST. This story was origionally only supposed to be a few smut peices, but its become what will probably be one of the most intense and intricate stories I've ever tried to take a crack at. A few things to note before you should dig into this story. Reader is a fem presenting person and there will be pronouns of She/Her for this story. I am working on stories for nongender presenting works, but for this one it is a designated identiy. Anyway if you like it, please remeber that fanfic writers live off of Likes, Kudos and Comments of encouragment and conversation. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Storm of the Century

"Get to the bunker!"

Amidst the cataclysmic wail of the hurricane, screams became echoes lost in the torrent. The quaint island town, once a portrait of tranquility, was now an arsenal of airborne debris, propelled by winds that shrieked at a hundred miles per hour. Mari, a slender blond woman, sprinted through the chaos, clutching a young child to her chest like a precious gem. Her eyes were set on the concrete sanctuary that had morphed into a last haven for the island's residents.

Once safely ensconced inside, her eyes scanned the room in a frenzied dance, landing on face after face, each one not the one she was looking for.

"Where's the Mistress?!"

Silence strangled the air. The group of women inside exchanged worried glances; their faces etched with a mutual dread. Finally, the child's voice broke through the din, its pitch climbing to be heard over the relentless battering of the storm against the shelter's walls.

"She said she was heading to the Ustesse family's place! Their mom is 'bout to have the baby!" A wave of collective gasps swept the room, whispers and murmurs swirling like mini vortexes. "They're gonna be okay, right Mari?" The child clung to her leg, his small face etched with terror, tears cascading down his cheeks.

Bending down to his level, Mari swiped away his tears with the corner of her apron and tenderly swept his disheveled hair from his eyes.

"Don't you worry. I have faith she's hunkered down with our friends. I'll go check on them, okay?"

The child clung to Mari's skirt, his small fingers knotting the fabric tightly until another woman tenderly pried him away and cradled him in her arms. With a resolute nod to the remaining occupants of the makeshift sanctuary, Mari clenched the rustic wood handle of the door, leveraging her entire body weight to wrench it open against the ferocious wind.

Outside, the storm raged on.

Ominous, dark green clouds churned in a frenetic dance, intermittently pierced by jagged bolts of lightning that shot from sky to ground and an encroaching sea line. Amid the apocalyptic landscape, she nearly missed her turn; the familiar road marker had been uprooted, now likely a part of the storm's airborne arsenal. Navigating just ten feet felt like an insurmountable quest as she lunged from one gnarled tree trunk to another, grasping their deeply anchored roots to avoid being swept away, her fingers ached, and the muscle of her palms cramped at the strength needed to hold on. What should have been a brief traverse felt like an agonizing odyssey.

Finally, a welcome sight emerged: the door of the Ustesse residence, peeking timidly from the slope of a small hill. Its unique architecture had rendered it a fortress amid the devastation. With the final sturdy tree and fence line a daunting hundred feet away, Mari resorted to crawling on all fours, her body encrusted with a sludge of mud and saltwater, her hair a tangled net of debris.

Summoning her remaining strength, she rapped on the massive wooden door before leaning into it, a low groan escaping her lips as she exerted herself to budge the door just an inch. Once safely enveloped by the fortress of solid oak, she gave one final heave, sealing the door—and with it, the cacophony of the storm and the haunting screams of the world outside. Silence filled the space, air stale with its humidity from the storm.

Catching her breath and hastily combing her wind-tangled hair from her face, Mari delved deeper into the short corridors of the dwelling. Just as she was about to call out, a gut-wrenching scream echoed from the far reaches of a back bedroom. Without a second thought, Mari charged down the hall, heart pounding.

"Hello? Is everyone alright?!"

A bedroom door burst open, revealing the cherubic faces of two children—twins. The boy’s eyes brimmed with tears, while his sister, a portrait of grave concern, gestured urgently toward the bed. As Mari neared the warm glow of a flickering lamp, her eyes widened at the spectacle before her.

A woman in the throes of labor crouched on all fours, her fingers clenched around the headboard with such force that the wood itself seemed to wail in sympathy. A statuesque figure—her mistress—kneaded the laboring woman’s back, offering rhythmic chants of encouragement between her cries.

"Mistress?" Mari’s voice quivered as her eyes met those of, you, her friend.

"Mari! Oh, bless the gods, you have perfect timing. We need hot water and clean cloth—fast. The twins are too petrified to leave their mother’s side." With graceful, efficient movements, your arms supported the laboring woman, guiding her to sit at the edge of the mattress. "Listen, Hannah," you spoke, tone laced with gentle humor to try and lighten the moment, "I know this isn’t your first time at the rodeo, but with the baby being breech, we need to proceed with the utmost caution. Are you with me?" You watched the mothers body language with worry, the feelings tel-tail signs hidden behind a well practiced smile. The last thing needed was for the poor woman to panic because the person she was depending on couldn't keep it together.

Hannah's face was flushed, a vivid crimson, her hair clinging like wet tendrils to her sweat-drenched forehead. Cheeks puffed rhythmically as she exhaled forcefully, desperate for enough oxygen to ward off fainting. Gripping the mattress's edge with white-knuckled hands, she heeded your guiding words. Meanwhile, Mari stationed herself behind her, soothing her flushed skin with icy rags and murmuring words of encouragement.

"You're doing beautifully. Keep breathing, just like that."

While the intimate tableau of new life being ushered into existence unfolded within the sheltered chamber, the hurricane outside continued its relentless havoc. Hours slipped by like minutes, until finally, the culmination of Hannah's strenuous labor bore fruit—a tiny, newborn life. Arms carefully swaddling the freshly cleaned infant, lips curving into a tender smile as you approached the exhausted mother while whispering.

"Ten fingers and toes—a classic choice."

Exhausted but elated, Hannah chuckled as she cradled her newborn daughter, feeling the infant's minuscule fingers wrapped around her pinky. She looked up at you, her Mistress while reaching for your hand, and planted a reverent kiss on the back of it, before pressing it to her flushed cheek. "Thank you, Mistress Your presence—and Mari’s—made this infinitely more bearable, I think we would have been in big trouble without both of you."

Warmth spread from the hand on the mothers damp cheek, up into your chest and heart before being expressed through a smile that radiated love. Bending down, you bestowed a gentle kiss upon Hannah’s forehead.

"I’ll always do whatever I can to support our little village of misfits."

A sudden cough diverted everyone's attention to Mari, who stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Her eyes were a mix of exhaustion and sorrow, burdened with news she wished she didn't have to relay. "Mistress, there are urgent matters requiring your immediate attention."

The exhaustion from the last few hours gripped your shoulders, sagging them for a brief second at the added weight of remembering the growing storm outside, and the towns precarious condition. You had been called to the home so early, that everyone in town had still been a sleep, even the baker. Something told you that todays dawn of ominous black clouds that had filled the horizon, had turned into a much more worrisome outcome than just the usual tropical depression.

You needed a drink, a stiff one at that.

Something strong enough to not only burn your tongue but also this day away. With what little energy that could be mustered from aching joints and stiff muscles, your spine straightened, with head held high and a stiff upper-lip you nodded before exiting the room, Mari trailing closely behind.

"Thank you, Mari. Any indication of when this storm might subside? I saw some dark clouds on my walk here earlier, but I haven't had a chance to see what its damage is yet." Turning down the hall towards the front of the Ustesse earthen home, the round wooden door and windows stood before you. Windows that faced out to the front of the town came into view, but your brain was having trouble comprehending what it was seeing. Lead filled your feet and forced the once hurried forward momentum you had to stop. The sudden change causing the blond to bump into your lower back, but you didn't budge. Body unable to move at the new and terrifying view in front of where you both stood.

The islands usually calm, crystal clear, blue waters were the backdrop for the small islands only town. It had taken months to bring the supplies for just the first houses foundation, let alone the last three years for the rest of the buildings to be finished at the beginning of this year. Untold hours of sweat, blood and so many tears from your own two hands had been put into creating this safe haven from nothing.

Saliva built in your mouth, a normally wet tongue felt like blooming cotton in its dry texture. The sensation forced the already cord tight muscles in your neck to swallow. A new view showed through the windows glass, one that could only be what clothes perceived of the outside world trapped during the spin cycle of a washing machine. Wind howled by so fast that you were sure you could see bits of earthen chunks being thrown at breakneck speeds. The storms dramatic change of atmospheric pressure caused both window frames to bow and groan, threatening in anguish to break. Thank god you had splurged for the hurricane rated windows this time around.

This home and the bunker had been built as a test, trying to put less financial investment into the usual and expensive construction supplies and more into a sturdier outcome with what was already on hand from the land around them. Building them both into the side of the hill had been the hardest part, but it seemed that the gamble had paid off. You blinked as dust fell from the ceilings boards, realizing that the chunks of earth you had seen were from the homes moss roof.

The home still held up, so far.

How had that storm turned into this so fast? Normally the island had plenty of warning from the weather monitor to prepare. A den-den mushi connected to the stations from the main island, it had guaranteed constant updates and warnings. In the years you had lived here, not once did even a small ‘just in case’ not get sent out. A gut sinking question pushed its way to the front of your mind.

Had the main island been caught off guard by this storm as well?

Mari had stood silent next to you, the top of her head barely reaching your shoulders, her emerald green eyes observed calmly, as a blank expression took the place of a once truly happy smile of her friends face. Years of friendship taught her patience, especially when it came to the time that you needed when processing information. She stood in worry at the events outside, but also in confidence knowing that plans for multiple outcomes were already swirling in the back of your mind while taking in what was before you.

Finally moving, you walked to the front door and grasped the copper handle to pull it open when a sudden gust of wind slammed it shut, pulling you against the unyielding wood with a loud thud. "What the—?"

Mari intervened, gently brushing your hand aside. Taking a few long strides back you watched as the short blond braced a foot against the doors frame for leverage, she clenched the handle with a firm grip and mustered all her strength to yank the door open.

With a gritty shove, the door finally yielded, breaking the vacuum seal between the tempestuous storm and the home's still air. Both of you stood silhouetted in the doorway, squinting into the blinding onslaught of the storm—visibility reduced to a mere five-foot radius. Mari shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, her nerves starting to win against her patience.

“Whats the damage so far Mari?”

"The storm appears to be getting closer, Mistress. As it stands, only Hannah's home and our newly erected shelter have withstood the havoc.”

With wide eyes and mouth gaped in shock, you turn to look down at your friend before placing a firm hand on her shoulder. Another ball of saliva forced its way down as panic set in, had the people who had come to depend on you made it to safety? The words had to be forced out with what little air it felt your lungs could grasp, voice scratchy and hoarse as the question was asked.

“Is everyone…are they okay?”

Mari gave a small smile and nodded her head in reassurance. She understood intimately the fear you had; she had been a first-hand witness to this islands ceaseless endeavors, helping lost souls and vulnerable women find not just shelter, but a home and small community to depend on. It might have been humble, but it was one of safety, filled with love and warm meals. More than most had experienced before in their lifetime.

"Everyone is safe," Mari whispered, her voice tinged with solemn relief as her smaller hand lay gently across your own. “So far it is just the buildings that have been destroyed. This storm came on so quickly the others didn't even have time to grab any personal belongings.”

Both of you looked back out the door as the hurricane seemed to stay in place on the tiny island.

“I guess we will have to wait and see what we can salvage, hopefully we can make enough to repair everything”.

Now where was that drink?

Two Months Later.

That's the length of time the colossal hurricane had churned off the coast of the Grand Line, its path ever changing, sometimes even veering dangerously close to BariBari Island. The last hurricane of this scale had been the stuff of legend, occurring generations ago. The kind of things elders spun as eerie tales for younger ears at bedtime, recounting a storm that raged for an entire year before vanishing as mysteriously as it appeared. These stories painted nightmarish scenarios—mighty ships splintered like kindling under the hurricane's wrath, lush islands stripped to barren wastelands, and entire communities swallowed up, leaving nothing but memories and fear in their wake. Its unyielding presence disrupted every facet of maritime travel and daily life for the Cross Guild.

And now, the behemoth storm showed signs of further intensifying, prompting the leaders of the Cross Guild to recall their entire armada back to the island. They aimed to minimize the loss of their assets, salvaging whatever could be spared from nature's fury. But this strategy made from necessity had a double edge to it, while it saved their assets, it also lost them time and money in doing so. The lack of incoming funds creating great irritation in the largest of the three leaders, and terrified the shorter showman. A stop to income meant debts couldn't be paid fully or on time.

The formidable warlords congregated around a large circular worn table. Emptied wine bottles, extinguished cigar stubs, and disheveled piles of coins and playing cards surrounded them like the aftermath of a battlefield. Initially convened for a formal meeting, their gathering had dissolved, as it often did, into late-night poker and calculated wagers. The air was thick with a smoky haze, trapped by the room's tightly shut windows. Scant candles flickered on sparse furnishings, casting ominous shadows that danced in rhythm to the distant roll of thunder. Raindrops pelted the windowpanes, each gust of wind testing the mettle of their rusted latches.

Just as a new round of thunder shook the very foundation of the room, the silence was shattered, with a high-pitched whine. Slumping dramatically in his chair while disembodied hands remained frozen, Buggy sneered at cards that he had yet to reveal—a losing hand, if the theatrics were any indicator. After already losings the last four rounds, his mind was craving After four loses from the last few rounds, and his chips stacks getting smaller and smaller, his brain started to struggle staying focused. Weeks of being kept inside, no sunlight and temperatures fluctuating between sweltering and freezing would make anyone irritable. Even more so for someone who’s brain never seemed to stay quite or still.

"This storm has been raging for weeks. The longer this damn hurricane goes on, the more I’m starting to think its possible to die from boredom."

Buggy stormed from his grandiose chair, boots thudding against the floor as he glowered through the windowpanes. Just two hours ago the rain-droplets had been freezing to the glass, and now it was so warm that the inside edges were dripping in humidity. It was impossible to stay in one layer of clothing for the whole day now, having to now switch between snow and winter ware to summer beach attire constantly. His usual outfit was reduced to more comfortable wear for the late night. Long azure-colored hair held up in a high ponytail to keep anything warm off his neck, classic makeup smudged after hours of wear and humidity. The fur-lined coat draped over the backing of his chair, accompanied by his stripped bandanna.

Pouring another full glass of wine, Mihawk's eyes flicked from Crocodile to Buggy. Setting the crystal glass down, a pale hand tossed a few more coins into the pile as cards were discarded and new ones added. The usually well-poised swordsman felt his patience wearing thin with being cooped inside for so long, finding time alone to read had become near impossible. Add the irritation of never having a moments peace and the shifting weather it was no wonder he had grown more and more quite as the night went on. Even his normally immaculate appearance had loosened to something more casual. Hair tousled, mustache bristling in odd directions from the sweltering dense air. Hat and coat hanging on the wall, sword leaning next to them forgotten and left to try and stay cooler during this hours choice of temperature.

Crocodile delicately ashed his sizable cigar into a nearby used glass. Leaning back into his chair, he relished the sound of the wooden joints creaking under his weight. "I've got some old acquaintances that are going to dock on the island soon. They asked if they could stay until the storm passed, its a smallish group of maybe twenty at most.”

While still looking out the window, Buggy rolled his eyes in boredom. “Oh yeah? What do they do for work?”

The behemoth man paused in his reach for a new card, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he searched for a fitting descriptor. "They're a group of retired performers—some of the best at what they used to do." Plucking the new card, Crocodile grabbed an four of clubs to throw into the discard pile before nodding to the brunet next to him that it was his turn now.

Buggy perked up, spinning to face the table, his eyes alight with eagerness. "Performers?" Then, his excitement deflated. "Oh, wait. You said they're retired, right? So, they're old and boring." With a disheartened sigh, he laid down his cards and folded them, leaving the game to the other two men.

Silence once again fills the room, the clown could feel his skin crawl from under-stimulation and the banal environment, feeling the frenetic energy of his brain becoming louder.

“So when do the geezers get here?”

Crocodile stiffed a chuckle at Buggy's question, now turning to face the sword-smith to continue their card game, deliberately ignoring the clown's feigned indignation. “They should be arriving in the next few days, If the storm allows it.”

Shifting in his seat, Buggy swung one leg over the armrest and gazed out the window again, sulking in his boredom and already reaching for his coat as the temperature started to drop again.

A few hundred leagues away

Ornate tubes of lipstick danced like marionettes across the creaking floorboards, swept away by the hurricane's invisible hands as the storm outside orchestrated an all-out assault on the ship's integrity. Each howling gust and bone-jarring wave turned the vessel into a seesaw, rocking it in erratic patterns that defied gravity, from fore to aft, starboard to port.

When a particularly large wave crashed against the ship's bow the buckets in the room slid across from one corner to the other along with the smaller trunks of storage, their scraping noises adding to the symphony of the ship's already overstimulating orchestra. Falling to your knees with a harsh thump, a hand flew to cover your mouth as a particularly intense wave of nausea made itself known. Moans, groans, and the unmistakable retching of seasick passengers reverberated through the timbers as if the ship itself were in agony.

With a sense of urgency, the that Mari had help to adorned with delicate rings reached out in a desperate ballet, snatching up the errant lipstick tubes before they could escape into the narrow abyss between creaking planks. Then, as if provoked by your defiance, a colossal wave—fit for a sea monster's grand entrance—slammed into the bow. The impact sent buckets, dainty trunks, and sundry personal items skidding and screeching from one end of the room to the other. The shrill scraping of metal against wood joined the discordant orchestra, lending another layer of chaos to an environment already awash in sensory overload.

A knock at the door was heard before it slowly cracked open. A voice gently called out, "Miss? Are you alright?" In walked the familiar petite blond with a white apron cinched around her waist. Her eyes darted to where you stayed kneeling on the floor, curled over a bucket, trying to hold back from heaving up what little food you had been able to keep down so far.

"Oh dear, you poor thing. I knew this voyage would be trouble, especially with your seasickness." Mari helped guide you to sit up on the bed before wiping the sweat that had grown across the heat of your forehead with a rag dunked in a bowl of cool fresh water. "I didn't think it would be so rough when we're gaining distance from the storm's center. Are you sure we can trust this acquaintance of yours?"

Letting out a low, contented hum as the icy touch of the damp rag caressed your feverish forehead, taming wayward strands of hair that clung to moist skin. Head tilted back, eyes blissfully shut, you surrendered to Mari's nurturing touch as if each swipe of the cloth washed away a morsel of discomfort. "No, he is not someone to be trusted. I'm afraid turning back isn't an option, Mari. Since that storms appearance we’ve burned through almost all our emergency supplies. We’ve no money to speak of and nowhere to retreat to. Did the captain give any indication of how much longer this hellish ride will last—oh God!"

Even in so much discomfort and exhaustion your hand shot to a bucket tucked covertly under the bed, just in time for you to dry-have, retching into its emptiness. Mari's face crumpled in empathetic distaste, yet she remained steadfast, gathering your hair to prevent it from falling into the line of fire. "The captain assures us it'll only be a few more hours," she replied.

With a groan that seemed to echo the creaks of the ship, you withdrew your head from the foul-smelling bucket, collapsing onto the bed that swayed like a pendulum in sync with the ship's motion. "By gods, thank you for that news. Please, check on the others. From what I was hearing they might be faring even worse than me."

Mari bit her lower lip, a visible manifestation of her brewing concern. Sensing this, an eye cracked open, lips stretching into a warm, reassuring smile as you gently squeezed Mari’s arm. " You are too good to us, Mari, there is no one else we could hope to depend on. Please, they might need you more than me.”

At the encouraging nod, Mari pivoted gracefully and moved toward the door. Pausing on the threshold, her eyes lingered, bathed in the dim light of the room. "If you need anything, just holler, Miss." With that, she vanished into the dizzying corridor, momentarily losing her balance in the ship's wild sway. Bracing herself against the wall, she pressed on, intent on delivering the same vigilant care to the other ladies enduring this maritime ordeal.

Back in the sanctuary of your private chamber, starring at the ceiling, transfixed by the droplets of water that seeped through the holes in the timeworn deck above. Each droplet felt like a punctuation mark in the million thoughts that seemed to swirl repeatedly—a relentless reminder of your dire circumstances. Letting the right arm go limp, fingers loosely clutching the now lukewarm rag before letting it tumble to the floor. Your thoughts careened like a tempest, mirroring the chaos outside.

"We're in desperate need of help," the words murmured softly, as if verbalizing it might summon the assistance you so urgently required.

Shout Out To: @gingernut1314 @oddmawd @fanaticsnail @diabolicemerald @hey-august @lemony-snickers for being such amazing authors. All of you have given me inspiration and strength from reading and experiencing your creations to to able to spread my own wings. Thank you.

[marketfreshfics]

Loving him: Sebastian

image: @starrysallow | More in this series: Ominis | Garreth (WIP) | Andrew (WIP) Includes mild nsfw content

Your love for Sebastian was always apparent; looking back now, it was abundant.

It’s a duel more of wits than spells, and he is the worthy opponent you’d craved crossing wands with. He’s a clever one, you realized, challenging your abilities with cunning finesse, goading you with a sharp tongue. Though you best him, he’s a good sport, even offering to accompany you to Hogsmeade for an errand or two.

It’s noticing how the afternoon sun brings out red tones to his hair, how he tries to keep up though he’s the escort, a playful tug on the hood of your robe to keep in-step.

It’s a midnight rendezvous in the library’s restricted section, sneaking close to him under a shroud of disillusionment, a hand on his back for guidance, warmth bleeding through his shirt. A close encounter is prevented with a firm tug of your sleeve, hiding face to face with bated breaths, with hearts hammering both for the fear of being discovered and for the sudden proximity.

It’s sitting across from him the morning after, his freckled cheeks a wash of pink, eyes warm and reminiscent of the coffee you sip. The clamour of breakfast time is rendered mundane din, the rest of the world vignetted around him. You’d never considered seeing the world through a gaze of affection like this, having scoffed at fairytales that depicted such folly, but now you’re not so sure.

It’s in the damp of a cave, the must of a tomb, eager to explore the unknown on a path towards a paradox of dark enlightenment. A moment of uncertainty brings you pause, a question of morals, of what is truly forgivable, but those eyes hold more knowledge than you suspect and he asks you to trust him. And in that moment, you oblige.

It’s evenings spent on his down comforter, books scattered about, dozing on his leg until he finds a passage that piques your interest. And his calloused fingers brush the hair wisps from your face, the earthy smell of ancient parchment clinging to the salt of his skin. Eyes meet, and an exchange of words is not necessary.

It’s what gives passion heat, and heat is all you understand in his embrace. It’s those exquisitely resourceful hands everywhere, gripping, tugging, attempting to caress though he cannot soften this all-consuming need. Its limbs that tangle of their own volition, a bed frame that creaks when he thrusts, and lovemaking so ardent it pulls the sheet up from the mattress. There are no hesitations here, only desperations. There is no doubt, only certainty. He’s a fierce friend, but as a lover, he’s never been more determined.

It’s following him with little regard for your safety, little regard for other obligations. Your heart is a foolish compass and he is magnetic north, though he guides you anywhere but home.

It’s watching him raise the dead from soil, all pulled up like roots, and caught somewhere in the fragile seam of fear and fascination, in awe of the downright awful. You wonder, as he stands surrounded by idle Inferi like some prodigal child of darkness, if you’ve underestimated him all this time.

It’s realizing then, when he felled his own guardian, that your underestimations knew no bounds. It’s running after him as he flees, frightened of the implications, of the circumstances, of the blood staining his hands. It’s not cowering in fear of him, but the sympathy you are quick to offer wholeheartedly, providing gravity when his world turned to hang in the balance. It’s reasoning his innocence to the law itself, seeing his guilt, the shame spreading.

It’s picking up the pieces after the fallout, reconnecting the bridges burned, plank by patient plank. It’s watching him grow, and with you he develops an understanding of the dark to counter it with light. He sees the errors of his ways, the forks of his path that led him astray, and you regret not having the foresight to divert him elsewhere.

But then, he shows you his love. Dedicated and devoted, the bond you’d forged unbreakable, built on trust. It was always there, waiting.

It reassures you. And it’s everything you want.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

Again

pairings: kim sunoo x reader

synopsis: kim sunoo had decisions he regrets before. and so when given a ‘second chance’ he made sure he won’t make the same mistakes again.

word count: 5k

warnings: contains yandere themes, curses and mention of murder.

note📎: i may or may not got carried away on writing this one. i didn’t know sunoo and the word yandere can fit so well. anyway, i hope you enjoy this one. let me know about your thoughts by sending asks to me. thank you and have a nice day/night 🤍

© 2023 eeunoia — all rights reserved.

“Sunoo, sweetheart.” his Mom greeted him as he enters their dinning area. He gave him a short glance then dropped a quick kiss at her head before heading towards his usual sit.

“Yeah?” he ask then the helpers attend to him right away, serving him his breakfast.

“Your doctor called me last night.” she starts and Sunoo draws a strained sigh before looking away from her. “She said that you didn’t visit again last saturday for your session. You’ve missed months of therapy.” she sounded so worried.

He didn’t say anything and just kept his eyes over his plate while his hand plays over his utensil.

“Are you drinking your meds?”

Sunoo sighed, starting to get annoyed with the continuous questions his Mom are throwing him. He tried to flash her a small smile despite the irritation before answering her.

“I am drinking my meds, Mom. Don’t worry.” he looked straight to her eyes so she can see that he’s sincere about it. “I will visit my doctor soon.”

She kept her worried stares at him for a while before finally nodding her head. The two of them then continued eating breakfast, diverting the topic about something else. Sunoo’s glad his Mom don’t pester him more about the stupid medications and sessions. He’s so done with it. Does his parents don’t trust him? Does he seem unwell for them? He’s fine. He’s perfectly fine.

“I’ll see you later for dinner, son.” she caress his cheeks and he just nods at her before they both go on separate vehicles.

Sunoo waved at his Mom’s car as her driver drove it out of their driveway. His smile fell the moment it disappeared out of his sight. He stood there for a bit more and just stared at nothing. He sighed then unlocked his black range rover to get inside.

While on the way, his mind went over to what his Mom was talking about. His doctor is such a snitch. He did made himself clear last 3 months ago that he won’t visit again. Why does she have to call his Mom? Now, she’s worried over nothing.

When he got hold by a redlight, he fished his phone then dialled his friend’s number. It rang two times before he answered.

“What’s up? Isn’t it too early for you to call?” Jake.

“Can you do something for me?” he ask straight to the point.

He heard him draws in a sigh, “Depends. What is it?”

“Get Doctor Cha fired for me. She’s getting in my nerves.” he said.

“Your psychiatrist?" he sounded so confused why he suddenly wants her fired.

“Mhm,” he hummed as answer and glanced at the traffic light when it turned green. He was about to step on it when the car behind him honked at him like crazy.

He looked over the side mirror and smirked with no humor. He drove and saw that the car was still behind him. Sunoo tries to focus on his friend while thinking of how to deal with the vehicle behind him. How dare that person honked at him using that ugly ass car.

“She called my Mom and now she’s pressuring me to go see that doctor again.” the bitterness over his tone was evident. Jake couldn’t help but to chuckle at what his friend said. He just can’t with Sunoo’s patience. He can get irritated too easily.

“All right, I’ll see what I can do.”

He decided to pull over to the side and Sunoo’s eyes followed the car when it overtake his car. He made sure to remember that plate number so he can take care of them later.

“Thanks, dude.”

“No problem.” and he ended the call.

His attention went over to his phone background. It was a picture of a smiling girl. Not just any girl. For Sunoo, she’s the prettiest out of all the girls he had ever met. Too bad, she left him.

His fist balled and jaw clenches as he carefully caress his thumb over his phone’s screen. “If only you’re here...” he mumbled softly, yet the hint of pain lingers in every word. “I wouldn’t need any of these. I would only need you.” he added.

Sunoo decided to stop over a café before he went to his class. Since the encounter a while ago stressed him a bit. He wouldn’t want to attend class with a bad mood. He needs to freshen up.

“Good day Sir, may I take your order?” the lady at the counter asks with a bright smile. Sunoo didn’t waste any time to say his order and he was asked to wait.

He tried to busy his phone while waiting on the line for his order. Minutes after, he heard his name being called by the cashier. He locked his phone then lifts his gaze to accept his order.

“Thank you.” he softly said then turned around.

“Oh my gosh!” you gasps when you suddenly bumped into someone because you’re in a hurry.

You are stoned in your position while looking at the mess you just did. The boy’s coffee is now all over his uniform. His head was hanging low, looking at his now stained polo. He cursed inside his mind and can feel his head turning hot.

He can’t believe it. ‘Can this day be any worst?’ Sunoo thought to himself. He pursed his lips tightly, trying to control his anger. He can still hear you mumbling incoherent words. It was obvious that you are panicking. Well, you should be.

“I am truly sorry!” your words snapped him back to reality. He slowly raised his head to look at you.

He was so ready to burst out his anger, but instead no words came out of his mouth. His heart stopped and his stares remained at your worried face. You are trying to get tissues from your bag as you start to catch the attention of some of the workers of the shop.

Sunoo’s mouth fell open at the sight in front of him. He couldn’t believe it. He’s out of words. He don’t know what to say or what to feel first. Is this even happening?

“H-Here, I have tissues. Oh my gosh, your shirt is stained..” you reached over his shirt and tried to even fix the mess you just caused.

“J-Jane?” your hand halt from what you were doing and you eyed the guy in front of you.

He have this unexplained look on his face. Like the look of being reunited with someone after a long time. You showed him an awkward smile.

“I’m s-sorry, but you must have got the wrong girl. My name is y/n.”

“Thank you so much, Sunoo! You don’t know how you just saved this day.” you gave him this warm smile. He pulled over in front of the gate of your school and smiled at you.

Your stomach churns at the sight of the handsome man beside you. He offered to give you a ride after knowing that you are very late for your class. It’s exams today so you couldn’t bear to be late. Thank God, Sunoo is so nice to help you even after you spilled his own drink over him.

“No problem. I’m glad I could help.” he said.

You nodded and quickly grabbed a pen and a paper to write your infos. He watched you silently then wait before you handed it to him.

‘Y/n.’ he read your name silently inside his mind. Below it is some of your social media accounts and number so he can contact you.

“I’m really sorry again for your shirt. You can pm me about the bill to get it cleaned. I will surely pay for it!” you said and unclasped the seatbelt.

“I told you, there’s no need for that.” he says that you quickly disagreed on.

“Please! You already saved me, at least let me treat you for lunch or something!”

His face lighten at your suggestion. “That I can’t say no.”

You beamed and pushed his door open. “That’s great! See you then!” and you left after sending him a small wave of good-bye.

Sunoo stayed for a moment and watched how you entered the school. His eyes are warm and he couldn’t stop himself to feel so happy. He felt excited and thrilled. A lot of things are going on inside his mind. Its a little overwhelming, but that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he saw you. He found you, again. And he will never ever let you get away from him.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Sunoo threw a short glance over his friend when he walked closer and noticed his ruined shirt.

To his surprise, he isn’t in the bad mood like how he expects him to be. His friend knew how he hates it whenever his clothes gets dirty and just by the looks of it, someone must’ve spilled their drink over him. Sunoo wouldn’t let it pass easily. It needs a miracle for that person to be saved from his wrath.

“Hi.” Sunoo says in a light voice then tried to find a spare shirt inside his locker.

Jake blinked a couple of times and tilted his head over to the side. Totally confused.

“Hi? That’s all it? What happened to that?” referring to his awfully stained shirt.

“Oh! This? Y/n accidentally bumped onto me causing my drink to spill over my shirt.” he explains like it was nothing.

“And you’re okay with it?” Jake asked totally weirded about the fact that Sunoo was not going ballistic over it.

He nodded his head, a small smile present over his lips. Jake shakes his head.

“And who the fuck is y/n?” he’s now curious about this girl who made Sunoo act like this. This isn’t normal. She must have something to do with this.

Sunoo smiles wider when he found a new shirt. He pulls it out from his locker then smiled to his friend. “My Jane. She came back, Jake. She came back to me.”

Jake’s face instantly turned worried for his friend. He shut his eyes and sighed before tapping him over his shoulder.

“Sunoo, look man,” he starts. “Are you taking your meds?”

The smile over Sunoo’s lips disappeared and his eyes grew cold. “Why do everyone needs to be so annoying? I don’t need those stupid pills! Specially now that I have her back.”

He swat his hand away and start walking towards the comfort room. Sunoo even walks across with some of his friends but he ignored all of them then just proceeded on his way. Jake’s eyes follows his friend in total silence. He is very worried and concerned about his behavior.

“What was that? What happened to him?” Jay asked curiously. Sunghoon stood beside him silently, together with Ni-ki.

“He said he saw Jane.” Jake announced that made all of them furrow their brows in total confusion.

They all decided to just deal with it later on. The students were asked at the school auditorium for an emergency announcement. Sunoo was there when they all arrived and they go straight to him. He isn’t mad anymore and just smiled. Jake just tried to shrug what his friend said a while ago.

“I called all of you here because of a special announcement.” the principal spoke over the mic, catching everyone’s attention.

“Someone from our school went missing yesterday. I am asking for your help. The authorities will come to our school later on so if you have any leads about (girl’s name), then feel free to step in my office.”

Sunoo tries hard not to show any suspicious expressions then eyed Sunghoon. He’s looking at the stage. To the large picture printed by the girl’s family and friends. He was looking at it intensely. He taps his friend’s shoulder then leaned closer.

“So you did it, huh?” Sunoo whispers.

Sunghoon’s lips lifted a little before shrugging his shoulders off. “I’d like to watch them go crazy searching for her while she sleeps soundly at my basement.” he mumbles that made a soft chuckle out of Sunoo’s lips.

“I should ask you for advice. I could use some of it.” he said and your pretty face pops inside his mind.

Sunghoon pursed his lips and tilts his head over to the side. “Speaking of. Jake said you saw Jane?”

Sunoo nodded his head, eyes sparkling just by your name being mentioned.

“Well, her name is y/n. Don’t call her Jane anymore because it’ll upset her.” he draws in a sigh then leaned backwards. “I really think God brought her back to me because I’ve been very good the past few months. Don’t you think?” He glanced over his friend, waiting for his answer.

Sunghoon nods his head, “Probably. What’s your plan?”

Sunoo trailed his eyes back to the stage as the principal’s incoherent speech became their background. “Be her friend. This world is so dangerous, Hoon. She needs me around.”

Sunghoon snaps his head back to the stage as well as the best friend of (girl’s name) is now giving her speech. A small smirk plays through his lips.

“It is a dangerous world.”

“I’m sorry, were you waiting for so long?” you ask while settling your things at the vacant chair beside you.

Sunoo smiles, “No. I just arrived a few minutes before you.” he lied. He couldn’t wait to see you again and so he stalked you for a while then go here at the restaurant.

You let out a sigh of relief then smiled at him. “So what do you want to eat? My treat!” you sound excited and so he couldn’t help but to smile as well. You looked so adorable.

He slid a glass of water towards you, “I’ll order, but you should drink some water first. Its hot outside, you must’ve been tired from all that running.”

Your heart faltered at how caring he is. With a blushing cheeks you drink from the glass and the two of you ordered. The whole dinner was fun for you. He’s totally nice and well mannered. You can tell right away that he’s from a wealthy family. From how he dress and talks. Surely, he is well off.

You didn’t realized how long you two were together, but it seemed too short. The conversation just keeps on going. It was crazy how the two of you just clicks with each other. This may sound crazy, but its like he’s someone you met from before. You admit, you may have a little crush on him!

“Sunoo, huh?” your friend gave you this teasing smile while she put down her things at the table in the library.

Its been a whole week of meeting and spending time with Sunoo. It was going so well, that your friend took notice of how you’ve always been in a good mood ever since. You can’t help but to tell her about him.

“Yeah. He’s so great!”

She nodded her head and sat down. “Mhm. Kim Sunoo...” she trailed then furrowed her brows a little. “Why do I feel like I’ve heard that name before?”

You opened your textbook, “His parents are very wealthy so you must have heard his name from tv or read it on tabloids.”

She shrugged her shoulders off, “You’re probably right. Tell me more!” she sounded excited and a big smile crawled over your face before you started telling her stories about you and Sunoo. Your mission to study, now long forgotten.

”Bye, y/n!” your friend waved at you as you walk towards Sunoo. He’s leaning over his car while patiently waiting for you.

He glanced at your friend and she gave her a small wave. Sunoo smiled and nodded his head insincere. Your friend’s smile faltered a bit, sensing something about him. When you glanced at Sunoo, he smiled brightly then meet you half way to help you with your stuff.

He opened the door for you. Even if he did this a lot of times already, you couldn’t help but to blush every time.

“How’s your day, pretty?” he asks and buckles his seatbelt.

You smiled, “Good! We have a lot of things to study. Ugh I hate out biology teacher.” you ranted that made him chuckle.

“You’re doing so well. You deserve a treat. Ice cream?”

“You are really my savior.” you mumbled and leaned in to give him a kiss at his cheeks. It made him happy, very happy.

And that’s the start of your unexpected relationship with Sunoo. You don’t have a clue when you started to feel this comfortable and happy around him. It just did. Days, weeks and then a month passed by and he didn’t changed. He remained the same sweet and caring Kim Sunoo. You must admit, he totally got your trust. You are falling for him.

It may not be noticeable by you, but to your friend it is. This thing that’s going on with Sunoo and you is bothering her. Yes, she can see that you are happy and as your friend, of course she is happy for you. Its just, Kim Sunoo. There’s something with the way he looks at her whenever she hangs out together with you. She couldn’t point out what it is, but she’s uncomfortable about it. She sense that something’s wrong with him.

She did tried to mention this with you, but you get defensive about. Saying that he’s just shy around new people and etc. There even a time where you totally got pissed at her for talking nonsense. That rarely happens. You aren’t the type to be pissed at her over these things. For some reasons, she feels like Sunoo’s taking you away from her.

One day, when you got stuck over some school project and you have to stay behind late, you suddenly started to get followed by someone. You are very scared and started to panic. Your phone died hours ago already so you can’t use it to call anyone for help. It is also pretty late so there are no one on the streets.

You thought something bad will happen to you when thankfully, Sunoo appeared and save you. He hugged you tightly and mumbled comforting words to calm you down. You are a crying mess, but you feel relieved that he was there for you.

“What?!” you heard your friend exclaimed from the other line after you informed her about what happened.

You sniffed and watched over Sunoo who’s busy preparing a meal for you at your kitchen. A smile creeped over your lips.

“Yeah, thankfully Sunoo was there to save me.” you said that made her brows furrow in suspicion.

“Did you call for him?” she asks.

“No. I told you my phone died hours ago, mainly why I only called you now.”

That’s what she has to hear to confirm it that you didn’t have a phone to use to call him.

“Why is he there?” she ask the million-dollar question that’s been bothering her from the start.

“He was taking a walk.” you answered what Sunoo told you a while ago when you asked him the same question.

“At this time? Y/n he even lives far from your place! How come he is coincidentally walking over the street at that time of the night and bump into you?” clearly, things aren’t making any sense and you are too ignorant to understand it.

“I don’t know! Aren’t you just happy that he saved me and that I’m okay?” you’re starting to feel upset.

She sighed and shut her eyes. “Right. I’m sorry y/n. I was just really worried. I will just change and go there, okay?”

You pouted, “Okay.”

The moment you dropped the call, the thought didn’t left your best friend’s mind. She’s sure that something’s wrong him and she won’t just sit here and let you be in trouble.

She quickly opened her laptop and went to search for any useful information about Kim Sunoo. She had done this weeks ago, but she stopped because she feels like she’s betraying you for actually thinking ill of someone that makes you happy. But now, she knew she had to do this. She needs to dig more.

After searching and searching, she almost gave up but then one single article caught her eyes. It was almost impossible to find and have no attention. She clicked it and hand flew over her lips as she read the big letters of the letters of the article.

“Shit.” she mumbled and quickly grabbed her keys to go drive towards your place.

“You feeling all right?” he asks softly and you nodded your head with a small smile. He nodded and placed a gentle kiss at your forehead.

“Yes.”

You two stared at each other’s eyes, nobody dares to look away. You can feel your heart thumping fast, thousands of emotions occupying your chest. Having him this close to you just makes you feel safe.

You got pulled out of trance when you heard the doorbell rang. Both of you turns your head at the direction of it.

“That must be (friend’s name).” you told him.

He flashes you a smile. “Great. I’ll let her in then you two can talk here in your room while I do the dishes.” he says then pats your head before he go open the door for your friend.

When the door swings open, she’s not surprised to see Sunoo. He have this same smile over his lips that she can’t explain. She smiled back and tried to not act too obvious. “Hi! Thanks for safely getting her home. Where is she?” she asks.

Sunoo didn’t replied right away, but then opened the door wider for her. “At her room.” he finally said then lets her inside.

Her steps felt heavier as she go in the apartment. She gulped and smiled before saying that she will just go and talk to you.

Your friend closed your bedroom door right after she managed to get inside.

“Y/n, I need to tell you something.” she whispered and even roamed her eyes around anxiously.

Your brows furrowed, finding her actions a little weird.

“Why are you whispering?”

She shushed you and held both of your hands. “Listen, don’t freak out. You have to come with me. We have to leave.” she continued whispering.

“What? Why? What’s going on?” you are starting to feel anxious as well.

“Its dangerous here. I don’t have the time to explain, we just have to go leave. Now.” her tone sound so serious and you can see in her eyes that she’s really scared.

It made you worried too. You’ve never seen her this way before.

“Wait. Where’s Sunoo? Is he all right? We have to tell him!” you exclaimed worriedly and stood up to come and get him.

Your friend grabbed by your arm to stop you. “Stop! No! You don’t understand,” he said and made you stop completely.

“HE is the danger.”

You stared at her with a confused expression that slowly turned into an unamused one. You sighed, “This again? Really? How many times will I have to tell you? Sunoo is the one who saved me!”

You are slowly getting tired of her telling you that there’s something wrong with Sunoo. This is getting out of hand. She’s seriously trying to break you two apart. Sunoo was right. She doesn’t like him for you and now you are doing this stuff to make you hate him.

“No! I’m sure now! I have proof,” she said, eyes starting to water. She go through her phone’s galler to find a screenshot she just took.

You shoved her hold away and moved back, “Leave.”

Her eyes darted at you. “Y/n...” she starts and took a step closer. “Its him! He’s trying to make you believe that he’s a good guy, but he isn't! He’s doing this to manipulate you into hating me!” she burst out, can’t really hold it anymore.

You slowly shakes your head. Your heart is aching because of her doing all of these. You just wanted someone to be there for you all the time, to love and care for you. And she knows that. Then why would she do this to ruin everything?

“I said leave!” you screamed.

She wipes her tears and nodded her head. “Don’t tell me I didn’t warned you.” was her last words before she stormed out of your bedroom. You plopped down the floor and cried.

Your friend didn’t saw Sunoo when she walks out, but that’s the last of her concern. Her mind is a mess and her heart is aching because of your fight. When she went out of your apartment, her steps halted because Sunoo was leaning over the wall.

He pushed himself off and put his hands inside his pocket. Her chest hammered in fear. She knows how he can be dangerous. Right after she saw and read that article, she knew what he’s capable of.

He smiled, “I’d give it to you for trying.” he said, taunting.

A tear left her eye, “You won’t get away with this. Leave y/n alone!”

He sighed, “But how can I do that if that will break her heart? You don’t want your friend hurt, do you?”

She kept her glaring stares at him. His smile slowly disappeared and that made her heart fell.

“The only person who should leave her life is you.” and with that, someone from her back suddenly covers her mouth and nose. She tried to fight back, hitting whoever that is from behind, but they were too strong. She can slowly feel her body giving in, her consciousness leaving her.

The last thing she can remember was Sunoo going inside your apartment, then everything turned black.

On the other hand, your head snaps at the door when Sunoo enters your bedroom. You quickly stood up and hugged him.

“Shh, I’m here.” he mumbled softly then made you sit down at your bed.

You followed and he kneeled in front of you so he can see your face perfectly. He handed you a glass of water.

“Drink this so you can calm down.” you accepted it and drink all of it.

“I don’t u-understand what’s got into her! She kept on saying that you are a bad person and that you are dangerous! She said that you’re making me hate her so I’ll push her away. She said you don’t like her around me.” you continued ranting and ranting while he holds your hand.

He just watched you, gently caressing your hands and placing kisses at the back of it from time to time. He didn’t talk for awhile, only your cries can be heard around your bedroom.

“She’s right tho,” he started that caught you off-guard.

“W-What?” you asked, confused.

Sunoo smiled, his sweet and angelic smile.

“I don’t like her around you. In fact, I don’t like anyone to be near you. It should only be me. You’ll only need me, Y/n.” he said that made your heart pounding hard.

You slowly pulled your hand off from his hold.

“N-No... I d-don’t understand.” you mumbled and started to move away from him.

Suddenly, all of your friend's words flashes through your mind, regret coming after. It was too late to even realize things. Sunoo stood straight and watch you silently. He didn’t seem like he’s in panic, he just stared at you.

Slowly, you start to feel tired and sleepy. Then you remembered the water he made you drink. It was too late, but you stood up and tried to run away. Sunoo grabbed you by your arm, and you’re too weak to even fight him.

“Its all right, baby. Everything’s going to be alright.” he mumbles and placed a kiss at your forehead before you finally lose your consciousness.

“Son, what is it? Are you okay?” her Mother’s voice sounded so alarmed because he ringed him so suddenly.

Sunoo sighed, “Something happened and I need help.”

His Mom instantly felt worried and excused herself from the meeting before going in a secluded place.

“Oh God, Kim Sunoo! What did you do again? Tell me you didn’t—”

“Mom, don’t worry. Its not like that. I just need you to clean some things for me.”

His Mom was silent for a while and her heart is aching for her son. A lot of people may find her unbelievable if they knew what things she can do for him. Can they blame her? Its her son! Of course she would do anything for him. Even if it means to clean after his mess.

She sighed, “Okay. I’ll send some people to do the job.”

Sunoo smiled, “Thank you, Mom. I love you. I’ll talk to you later, my friends are here.” he said and turns his head to the side when they saw his friends pulling over in front of their vacation house.

“Where is she?” Jake asked and Sunoo pointed the room on the left. He sighed and went there to go check if she’s all right.

Ni-ki sat down at the sofa together with Jay and Sunghoon. Jungwon came inside with Heeseung, both of them have this worried look for their friend.

“Sunoo hyung, you shouldn’t act impulsively.” the younger one scolds him. He just rolled his eyes at it.

Heeseung sighed and taps his shoulder, “Please get a hold of yourself and don’t get too carried away again.”

“Yes, Heeseung hyung is right. Take it easy, dude.” Jay followed.

“Calm down, I got this. Now that I have this second chance, I wouldn’t waste it.” he said, assuring his friends that he’s totally all right.

“You better not go lose yourself again, Sunoo.” Sunghoon warned him, eyes glued over his phone.

Sunoo scoffed and glanced at the direction of the room you are in. A small smile spreads over his face.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill her this time. I won’t make the same mistake again that I’ve done before.” he said then glanced down at the phone he was holding. It was your friend’s phone and the photo of the article she took was flashing over it.

‘KIM SUNOO, HEIR OF THE KIM GROUP OF COMPANIES HAVE SAID TO BE THE SUSPECT FOR KILLING HIS OWN GIRLFRIEND, JANE CHOI.’ Read more...

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[floral-force]

first request ever for you so HERE WE GO! i’m kinda stuck on the thought of like, angst right now. maybe hurt/comfort. but here’s the idea: i haven’t finished s3 yet so pardon me if this is completely wrong, but imagine like, in general, din, the other mandalorian and friends are going to battle to like re-take mandalore or smth, take over smth that’s very important. reader and grogu are both force sensitive and when din thinks victory is theirs, one last attack hits, making reader grab grogu and like bins their force together like from fire, and reader ends up getting burned. i need a nice juicy hurt/comfort with some marriage at the end 🤞

I really ran away with this idea. I needed to flex my din djarin muscles again and this was a great prompt for that! I got into a flow, one thing led to another, and now I present you with the fic below. all I can do now is sit and hope you enjoy it!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

The Only Hope for Me Is You

Din Djarin x GN!Reader, Force user!Reader

summary: Din’s fearless, Force-sensitive partner has been at his side through everything. Unknown to him, his partner has slowly fallen in love with him. When Din gets the chance to start a new life after they help retake Mandalore, a confession paves a new path. Will they choose to take it?

words: 4.8k+

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, fluff, first kiss, minor injury (burn), Mando'a pet names, marriage, soft!din djarin, the helmet comes off, grogu is a guest star

read on ao3 | masterlist | send a request

They were fearless and brave—something Din deeply admired about them. They never hesitated to protect Grogu or scout ahead of Din. Sometimes, he’d nearly beg them to stay behind him or at least stay close. They’d insist that they’d be okay— “I have the Force on my side, Din”—but the love he carried for them in his beskar-plated chest would have him close to begging them to let him protect them. Din would fall to his knees for them and grant their every wish. He wished he could rip open his chest and show them how his heart beat only for them and the child.

Din had gripped their arms before they both left the ship to retake Mandalore, had told them that they needed to put their and the child’s safety first. He thought he’d gotten through to them, had broken through their stubbornness. Din really thought that telling them how important they were to him back on Nevarro would soften it and make them more compliant when he asked them to listen for their own safety. They’d nodded and held Grogu closer to their chest, leaned into Din’s touch when he put a gloved hand on their cheek, kissed his palm with their soft lips.

Din should have known better.

When a fireball was headed towards where he, Bo, Grogu and they knelt, Din knew Bo’s small shield would do nothing. He accepted that he’d die for his home and his people. He’d closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made peace with it as it barreled towards them, the heat closing in. But when he looked to his side to look at them and Grogu one last time, they weren’t there. They were on their knees next to the child in front of him and Bo, their left arm extended, the other flat against the ground behind Grogu. Their body was angled slightly in front of Grogu, a protective stance so they would take the brunt of any injury. His breath caught in his throat when he realized the fire was splitting around them, diverted by an invisible forcefield that they and Grogu created with their powers. Bo looked at Din, and he glanced at her, but kept his helmet trained on them. 

Din moved again when the fire dissipated and they yelped, falling forward to the ground, Grogu plopping down to sit. His breath caught in his throat—they were alive, but he could tell their breaths were labored from exertion. Bo scooped Grogu into her arms and nodded at Din before lifting into the air. Din shook his head when he took them into his arms, noticing a blistering burn spreading up their left forearm from the wrist to the elbow. As he followed Bo into the air and escaped with them from the crumbling cave, he squeezed them closer in his arms, whispering their name to himself. 

He hoped to whatever powers may be that they would be okay, that he’d get to spend another day with his brave partner and son. 

“Din?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. Your vision was blurry and the environment around you was dark and quiet. All you knew was that you were laying down on a ship, the mattress under your back firm and the hum of engines filling your ears. Your pulse quickened and you nearly shouted, “Where am I?”

Your anxiety started to fade away when a familiar hand brushed your head, rubbing its thumb across your sweaty forehead.

“Shh, cyar’ika, I’m here.” Your vision adjusted, and you saw a beskar helmet hovering over you. Din was on your left side, forcing you to gently turn your head to see him better. “We’re going back to Nevarro.”

You made a mental note to ask him about that word later. “It’s over?”

He nodded. “It’s over.” When you went to move your left arm, you hissed in pain. Din gently pressed your hand back down to rest on the rack. “You’re hurt. Don’t move that arm.”

You lifted your head up and looked down your torso to see your forearm wrapped in a bandage, some pink splotches bleeding through the white material. You looked for Grogu, but when you didn’t see him, you panicked. 

“Where is—What happened to Gro—”

“He’s okay,” Din assured, his voice low and grounding. 

He was the calm in your storm, always calling you back when you drifted away. It was one of the things you loved about him. Din centered you and grounded you, reminded you of your strength and power. Without Din, you’d surely be dead by now. Even the Force couldn’t save you from making rash decisions driven by emotion alone. 

It was why you couldn’t train Grogu when Din found you and asked you. You’d agreed to travel with him and at least get Grogu started, help him start to channel his abilities. At least you’d be able to leave the backwater planet you were hiding on and start to consider the possibility of a new life elsewhere. Slowly, you got to know your beskar pilot better, constantly fighting the feelings growing within you. He was witty and smart, protective and surprisingly passionate. Din had made it incredibly hard not to fall for him when he gave you gentle touches and soft reassurances. 

You were the one comforting him when he gave Grogu away to Luke Skywalker. Din had looked at you later on Boba’s ship and taken your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. You selfishly hoped he felt the same, but it wasn’t likely. You had let your feelings consume you not long ago, but you stood on uncertain ground with the armored object of your affection. The doubt festered within you even after he’d taken you aside and told you that you mattered a great deal to him and the child, and that you needed to be careful.

But those feelings were why you didn’t hesitate to leave his side and stay next to the selfless little child as he fought back the fireball. You joined him and felt your energy quickly fading; you hadn’t exerted yourself this much in years. You held on and fought back the black threatening your vision, pushing yourself to protect your little family and the woman who had looked out for all of you. You must have let go a little too early, judging by the bandage on your arm. If getting a burn meant your family survived, then you would gladly offer your skin to the flames every day for the rest of your life.

Looking into the visor above you, you had no doubt in your mind about where your heart was and who you were called home to. The galaxy had given you a purpose when Din had entered your small hut with a tiny, big-eared, green baby in his satchel. You were determined to fight for them with every breath you took. Even if Din didn’t feel the same, you’d defend him with your dying breath. That was what mattered.

“Are you okay, Din?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

He nodded and reached over your torso to place a hand on your waist, gripping it as if he could lose you again at any moment. “I’m fine, cyar’ika. Bo is flying us back to Nevarro, and we’ll go from there.”

There was that word again. You swallowed and felt fatigue sweeping over your body again. You looked up at him and asked meekly, “Can I go back to sleep?”

He chuckled, a low hum in his chest. He said your name with a nod. “Yes. I’ll be here at your side the entire time.”

You gave him one last smile before closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep.

You’d grinned when Din told Karga he’d take up his offer of land and a cabin. The two men shook hands as Grogu cooed in your arms. Greef had looked at you both with a knowing smile. 

“Hopefully, you can all rest now. Nevarro is thankful for all that you’ve done.”

Din nodded at his old friend. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Greef shook his head. “Not necessary, my friend. It’s the least I can do.”

The cabin was modest in size and decoration. It had basic furniture and cookware, enough to get by while shopping around for new things. The hot spring in front of the cabin kept Grogu occupied, and the porch let Din kick his feet back and relax for the first time in his life. Din left that same day to make a quick trip to the Adelphi outpost and told you about his offer to Captain Teva upon his return. While it made you nervous—these Imperial remnants were serious threats—you were glad he could return to bounty hunting on his terms with somewhere stable to return to. The end of this journey left you even more uncertain about your place in the world—was it with Din and the child? Were you meant to leave and start a life somewhere else, hiding again?

That night, you sat on the porch with him under the stars. His armor and gloves were off, his bare tan skin in the open air. You felt entirely at peace—Grogu was asleep in the cabin, your belly was still full from dinner, cheeks a little heated from the wine you’d indulged in—and you were overjoyed to be sharing this with Din. Despite your confusion, you were so grateful to share this moment of calm with him as he began a new life. So much so, that you needed to tell him. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things unsaid. You stood up and cleared your throat. His helmet turned to look at you, the hand he had resting on his thigh clenching into a fist.

“Din, I have something to tell you.”

“Are you alright, cyar’ika?” Din asked with worry in his modulated voice. “Is it your burn? Are you injured?”

Before he could get up and fuss over you, you shook your head and pushed on his chest so he’d relax back into the chair. “No, Din, I’m fine. I promise. It’s just—” you bit your lip and glanced around— “this is important.”

“You can tell me,” he said, sitting up and taking your hands in his. His gentleness never failed to surprise you. The man had killed so many for his son and for you, had fought his way through hell and back just to help retake his people’s home, had experienced so much hurt and pain. But despite it all, he sat in front of you stripped of his armor, defenseless and trusting you not to hurt him.

You turned your head to stare at the flats stretching into the dark. Your eyes glanced up at the stars to avoid his helmet before dropping to the cement beneath your shifting feet. Taking a deep breath to center yourself, you turned your head and focused back on the visor and how the beskar was gently lit by the two warm yellow porch lights. You absentmindedly stroked your bandage and sighed.

“I love you, Din.” Your heart was drumming in your chest and shaking your skin. 

He was silent. Off in the distance, something chirped, and you heard yourself swallow. You weren’t sure if you preferred silence, or his modulated voice, even if it was a rejection. The doubts that lay dormant within your chest rose with a snarl and twisted under your ribs. Each second that passed in silence let them sink their claws into you a little bit more each time.

Finally, he softly whispered your name and squeezed your hands. Din rose to his feet and gently pulled you closer. You could smell him—sandalwood, musk, leather. Intoxicating and alluring, just as it had been from the beginning. You wanted so badly to taste him, too—to feel his lips on yours and melt into him.

“I love you too,” he murmured. Din cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked it with his thumb.

You sighed in relief and chuckled, dropping his hand to rest yours on his chest, tugging on the fabric of his flight suit. Din wrapped his arms around you and held you close in his embrace, a large hand cupping the back of your head. You sank into his warmth and let yourself go limp with love, feeling your mind calm for the first time in a long time. 

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” he asked, his words vibrating underneath you.

You shook your head. “I thought you wouldn’t want…” You trailed off and hummed. 

“Wouldn’t want what? Wouldn’t want you?”

When you nodded against him, he dropped his arms and gripped yours, his warm palms burning through the fabric of your sleeves. Din took a step back and shook his head.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, cyar’ika.”

You felt your eyes start to water. “Really?” 

He nodded and ran his hands along the curve of your shoulders to your neck. Broad thumbs stroked the underside of your jaw. Your chest expanded with something warm and bright, the Force flowing through you with an unusual calmness. Your doubts had fled into the night, replaced with that glowing love and calm that only something truly wonderful can create. It felt as if you were meditating and at one with everything around you. You wouldn’t want to feel this way with anyone else.

“I adore you.” Din stated. “You’re one of the most fearless and honorable people I know. You’re selfless to a fault, always putting others first.” He chuckled. “I think the burn is proof of that.”

You smiled. “I’d have to agree.”

He nodded. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, cyar’ika.”

“I think you are too, Din.”

“You’ve never even seen me.”

You shrugged. “Don’t have to. I just know you are.”

“Would you—” Din cleared his throat. “Would you want to see me?”

“Din, no, your Creed—”

“I can remove it—” he said, cutting you off— “when I find the person I want to marry.”

You felt as if he’d stolen the air from your lungs, everything leaving your body with a sudden, stunned exhale. You’d been at his side throughout this journey with him and only stayed behind a few times, one of which being his redemption in the living waters. He hadn’t told you much about that moment, but you didn’t need all the details to know how much it meant to him. You could practically see him beaming under his beskar when the covert accepted him again. Hearing him offer to remove his helmet just so you could see him filled you with love, but fear as well. 

He caught on to your hesitancy and nerves. “Are you afraid I’m ugly?”

“No, I just—I…” You stopped and sighed, your chest deflating. “I don’t want to be the reason you become an apostate again.”

“No, cyar’ika, no.” He placed one of his hands on your waist. “Mandalorians can remove their helmets for the person they want to marry.”

Your eyes widened. “You want…to marry me?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.”

He was right. When he spoke, there was rarely uncertainty in his words. Din was unwavering and steadfast, rigid and surefooted. 

“And that’s one of the things I love about you.” You gave him an affectionate smile. “But, you’re sure?” Din nodded; you raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely certain?” Another nod. “Entirely, fully—”

Din drawled your name and laughed, dropping his hands to his sides. “There’s nobody else I want to spend forever with.”

“Not your son?” He groaned and you patted his chest, letting your hand linger over his heart. “Just teasing you, my love.”

Din placed his hands over yours and asked, “You’re sure you want to be with me? That you want to see me?”

“Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, skin warm under your lips. 

All he did was nod and bring his hands to the side of his helmet. You watched him turn away to take it off, a soft hiss before he removed it and revealed tousled brown curls to you. His hair was short and messy, and you already adored him. Din set his helmet on the chair, and you heard him take a deep breath before facing you again. Your breath hitched in your throat when you laid your eyes upon him for the first time.

Maker, he was ethereal. 

Even with the dim light, you could see a hint of a flush across his cheeks. His brow had a few lines showing his age and the stress of his profession. A mustache lay above his plush, pink lips. It was nearly impossible to resist smothering them with yours the longer you stared at him. Patchy brown scruff crept up from his soft jawline; you tilted your head and saw a small patch of gray near his jaw on the left side. You made a mental note to kiss that spot often. His curved nose split his face almost perfectly in two, accenting it perfectly. It was hard to make out the color of his eyes, so you took a step forward and squinted, placing your hands on his cheeks. Din inhaled sharply at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening and gazing into yours again. Finally, you were able to make out the color—a warm chestnut brown. 

“Din,” you breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

He placed a hand over one of your wrists, the other on your cheek. Seeing him softly smile made your heart soar and touch the stars above. He leaned in and your heart started to race as those warm eyes got closer to yours, his lips now close enough that you could lean forward and close the gap. Electricity ran up your spine when he whispered your name; you could feel his breath push against your mouth, tempting you to give in. Your bones felt like they were vibrating; whether it was from nerves or your unconscious disturbance in the Force, you weren’t sure.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to finally see you without the visor.” His low voice was even sweeter without the vocoder’s slight modulations. His thumb stroked back and forth over your skin, leaving you breathless.

“I’ve never been happier than I am now,” you confessed.

Din nodded, his eyes half closed and flitting between yours and your lips. “Me too, cyar’ika. I love you.”

You choked back a happy sob with a chuckle and a soft smile. “I love you too, Din,” you panted.

Din stole his name from your mouth as his lips crashed into yours. The fingers on your cheek gently pressed into your skin as if he was afraid of you slipping away into the night. His grip on your wrist loosened and he grabbed your waist, pulling you even closer to him. Yours fell to his neck, trailing down to his chest, nails scratching against the fabric hiding his skin from your greedy touch. Din pulled back only an inch and you both panted, catching your breath. His hand moved to the back of your head and his fingers rubbed slow circles into your scalp.

“I’ll never get enough of you.”

You shook your head and gave him a quick kiss. “I want to get married tomorrow.”

Din pressed another breathless kiss to your lips. “Tomorrow?”

You nodded and stroked his jaw with your right hand’s knuckles, lavishing in how he nearly whimpered at the feeling of your skin on his. You knew that you’d never be able to see or touch his handsome face enough. It was a sight you wanted to see forever. His smile lit you up from the inside out, sent shockwaves throughout your body. He calmed you even more without his helmet.

“Yeah,” you smiled against his lips. “I can’t wait any longer.”

His laugh was warm and lighter than you’d ever heard it before. “You’ve always been impatient.”

“Oh, you love it, Din Djarin.”

Din nodded. “I do,” he rasped against your mouth, quiet pants mixing with yours. 

His lips melted into yours once again, making your brain buzz with ecstasy. If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

He woke up the next morning in bed with them at his side. He rolled over to face them, propping himself up on his elbow, resting his head on the heel of his hand. They lay on their right side, lips slightly parted and a little speck of drool on the corner of them. The morning light cast a natural spotlight on them and made Din’s heart burn even more for his soon-to-be riduur—his spouse, his partner for life. He felt himself smile as their eyes slowly opened, squinting and then focusing on him. They beamed at Din, filling the room with their radiance. 

“Hello, handsome,” they said with a hoarse voice. Din hummed when their fingers graced over his cheek, nails gently grazing his stubble. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, cyar’ika.” 

“I forgot to ask,” they yawned. “What does that word mean?”

“Cyar’ika?” They nodded, and Din continued, “It means darling. Sweetheart.”

They gave him a sleepy smile. “I like that. Maybe I’ll start using it.”

Din pinched their chin and shook his head. “No. That word is yours.”

“I’m not a Mandalorian, goofy.”

“But soon you’ll be married to one.” Din laughed when they rolled their eyes and groaned dramatically. “It’s yours. It always has been.”

They gave Din a soft smile, then rolled onto their back and reached out for the holopad on the bedside table. Din watched them push themselves up and lean back against the headboard with a few tired huffs. He pushed himself up and scooted closer, pressing his leg against theirs, feeling their warm skin against his. They were talking, but Din was too focused on their beauty that he missed everything.

“Din?” they said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get all of that?”

“No,” he grabbed their jaw and pulled them in for a kiss. “I was too busy staring at you.”

He loved the way they looked when they were flustered—face-splitting smile, nose crinkled, and the corners of their eyes creased. 

“That’s very sweet, my love. But this time, I need you to listen.” They cleared their throat. “Bo is coming over in an hour to go with me into town. Karga is coming over a little bit after that to get you and Grogu. The Armorer said the late evening—right at dusk—is when we’ll have the ceremony, and she told you to meet her there an hour beforehand.”

“Dusk?” Din’s eyebrows knitted together. “She didn’t give a time?”

They shook their head and held out the pad. Din took it and they got up, swallowing and feeling his ears heat up when he saw that they were still naked. Last night had been incredible to say the least. He wasn’t upset that they hadn’t hidden their stunning body under fabric before falling asleep on his chest, one of their hands resting on it, and the other loosely clutching his bicep. Stroking their head as they drifted off to sleep had been one of the most peaceful experiences of Din’s life. If this was going to be the rest of his life, then he was the luckiest man in the galaxy.

Din was reminded of that at dusk under a purple sky when they stood in front of him again, staring at him and into his eyes despite the visor. It hurt to see them with a barrier again, but the Armorer assured him they’d have a hidden moment alone together after the ceremony. He could feel the joy radiating off them, enveloping him in a safe embrace that only they could ever give him. Grogu made a small noise, and he looked down at his son, one of his tiny claws touching his calf. After this, they’d be a clan of three, and Din could be free to show his face in his home—their clan’s home—with his riduur and their little green ad’ika. 

Din had never been happier in his entire life.

The ceremony flashed by—Mandalorians were known for their prowess in battle, not lengthy displays of love—and soon Din was holding hands with his riduur. Grogu sat on a rock within arm’s reach, focused on levitating a few random pebbles on the ground. His helmet sat next to his son; Din looked into his spouse’s eyes, unmasked. It was heavenly. Their clan was standing behind a piece of stone jutting out of the ground, wide enough and tall enough to hide them from view. A couple Mandalorians stood watch a few meters away on the other side, making sure they were safe from being seen.

“You look beautiful,” Din said, stroking their cheek with his fingers.

“So do you,” they replied. “The beskar is extra shiny. I like it.”

“Good. Worked my ass off polishing it.” Din gave them a quick kiss, swallowing their laugh at his comment. His right hand was resting at the base of their skull, the other holding their left hand. “You deserve nothing but the best.”

“So do you, Din,” they breathed, pulling him towards them with hungry eyes. 

Din groaned when they kissed him with passion, burning him from within. They turned him to ash and brought him back to life all in the same breath. All he needed was their love, and he’d live forever. As their lips meshed together, he let go of their hand and placed it on the small of their back, making sure this was real—that they really were warm under his palm, that their lips were soft and delicious, that they were really his.

Din pulled back and stared into their eyes, giving them a kiss on the forehead, then the cheek. He heard one of the watchers call out for them to return soon, and he gave his riduur a wide grin; his cheeks were beginning to hurt from how much he’d been smiling. 

“Well,” they sighed, pushing away to reach over and grab his helmet, “time to go.”

Din looked at his son. “Grogu.” He smiled when the child looked up at him with his large eyes. “You ready?”

“Patu,” the child cooed, reaching his little claws up. 

Din lifted him up and set him on the ground, indulging his request. He knew that Grogu was more than capable of jumping to the ground and landing without injury, but his son seemed to love his touch and affection almost as much as he loved eating. Din was always happy to spoil his ad’ika no matter what the request was, and so was his riduur.

He looked back up at his stunning riduur and took the helmet from them. Din gave them one last kiss, letting their hand trail down his cheek to his jaw, then down his neck as he slowly replaced his helmet. Their hand landed on his chest plate, resting over his heart. That was where they lived within him; something deep and vital and full of love and life. Losing them would destroy him. He vowed to always protect them, to fight for them with every ounce of his being. Din looked at them again, gently resting his hand on their neck and smiling at the way they looked at him, their eyes full of love and hope.

“Come on, my love,” they said with a grin that could light up the darkest cave. “Let’s celebrate.”

Din nodded and said their name, loving the way they looked at him when it rolled off his tongue and into the air. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They took his hands and met his helmet’s gentle tilt forward with their forehead for a Keldabe kiss. Din had a feeling it would be the first of many that night. They stepped back and started to pull him with them, Grogu keeping pace with his slow, resigned steps.

Shereshoy. That was what he’d been feeling ever since last night—maybe even before then, maybe when he’d first met them. They gave him the strength to go on, motivated him to be as fearless as them, made him let go of his fears and let himself fall in love. As they walked into the light of the party to a symphony of cheers and clangs of beskar vambraces on chest plates, Din grinned. He was right where he belonged. Din was burning with a newfound lust for life and determination to keep his clan safe and forever loved. He never wanted the fire within him to go out.

Mando'a Translations: ad'ika [ah-DEE-kah]: little one, son, daughter of any age cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah]: darling, sweetheart riduur [REE-door]: partner, spouse, husband, wife shereshoy [sheh-REYSH-oy]: lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it..

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[brighttears]

Breaking Glass

Joel Miller x f!reader

No use of y/n, no physical description except for female sex organs and having hair

Summary: It takes a close call on a run outside of Boston for Joel to realize that he needs to finally tell you the truth—he’s in love with you.

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: pining (Joel, resolved), violence, description of being cut (brief and metaphorical), smut (minors dni), unprotected PiV, cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, darling, good girl)

A/n: WOOOO finally i wrote something. this took way longer than i thought it would. BIG THANKS to my lovely bestie @bejeweledblueberries for being my beta reader <<<<33333 (btw the smut is p much unedited) (also the cover photo is so lq but its such a pretty picture so)

—

“You ready?” You ask, grabbing your gun to tuck into your waistband, flipping your shirt over where it sits on your back to conceal it.

Joel does not like being in Boston, but he can’t say he’s ever excited to leave—leaving means danger, extra danger, more than what you’ll find within the QZ; infected, for one, but not only. And though he feels safe with you and your weaponry at his side, he does not like going outside the QZ with you. However, the two of you have agreed that him going out without you is just as acceptable as you going out without him, and there are things out there you can’t get anywhere else, and you need a generator. 

Joel looks you over while you rustle through your backpack and then slip it on. You’re so beautiful, he wants to say, but he won’t. 

From the moment you met, Joel felt something shift. Someone had introduced you to him as a solid resource, so you did a few deals, and then you became an asset. That was the word Joel stuck with for a while, but when you started going on runs together and sort of teamed up as traders, Joel found something more growing. Shoving it down worked adequately well, though, so Joel felt relatively safe. Nonetheless, the feelings have continued to simmer, but he’s been able to keep them contained.

If he had his way, right now he would take your bag off of you, lay your weapons down, scoop you up, take you into the bedroom, and lay down with you; nothing more, just lay and hold you safe with him. But he won’t.  

At his silence, you look at him and raise your eyebrows. 

“Oh, yeah.” Joel snaps back into it, stealing one last double take before grabbing his own gun to hide like yours and slinging on his pack. You start for the door first and Joel follows you down the noisy, dingy hallway. 

The afternoon sun is harsh outside and the streets are bustling, but you have a learned path that you follow to sneak out past the walls. 

Once out, the din of the QZ trails behind you for only a short time before being replaced by chirping birds, the rustling leaves of the green trees, and refreshing flora. A subtle peace falls over the two of you as you pull away, but a dismal tone intrudes as you venture out further into the ruins of the former world. Many things are left exactly as they were, but broken, dilapidated, decayed—visibly abandoned in the chaos of that final fateful day. Joel diverts his gaze when you pass an empty stroller, a faded pink blanket dirty and rumpled on the ground in front of it. 

The goal is a generator, and Joel turns his attention back to the search for any place you might be able to find one; there’s supposed to be a hardware store around here somewhere. You pass clothing stores, grocery stores and drugstores, a jewelry shop, and restaurants, all overcome by nature, with ivy snaking through broken windows to crawl onto ceilings, welcome mats covered with moss, any hanging plant holders a waterfall of colorful flowers with curly, verdure tails. Mother Earth has come back as queen decorator and with her new freedom has wasted no space.

After walking for a while, you pause in front of an upscale restaurant, and Joel slows to a stop, coming to your side to look in with you. The inside is open to view from the large wooden frames missing their glass. The wood interiors are rich but mostly wrecked by water damage. Every table is still set up with plates, silverware, folded cloth napkins, and large wine glasses, though all dirty and dusty. Liquor bottles sparkle in the sunlight on the back wall’s bar. 

After a moment, Joel looks at you and asks, “Watchu thinkin’ about?” 

You hum a sigh, then turn to him with a wishful smile, “I just bet their food was sooooo good,” you laugh. Joel smirks and then gives into a smile as he watches yours. Inevitably, his mind wanders to taking you out there, you in a tight dress, he with cufflinks in, clinking glasses with a red rose on the table—

Suddenly, a booming voice calls out, “Hey there, friends, haven’t seen you around these parts!”

You both whip around and, far but still too close, four men are walking towards you. Their clothes are dirty and ripped but their faces are unconventionally cheerful. 

The man speaking shows off two broken teeth, gapping his smile. “Oh, look, a gentleman and a lady!”

The hair on the back of Joel’s neck stands. Quietly, he states “Foe.” and raises his gun, but you beat him at the punch, shooting twice and then yelling “Go!”. 

Joel instinctively bolts into the restaurant and hears a gruff “Fuck!” as he sprints to the bar at the end of the room. He throws himself around it, quickly pulling out his revolver to cock in his hand on the concrete floor as his back hits hard against the cabinets. 

Glass shatters and he ducks his head as the cups from atop the bar blast over his head. At the top of his vision, dozens of shelved liquor bottles burst, pouring reds and golds. Clear vodka drips onto the toe of his shoe at the end of his outstretched leg. It runs cool into his sock as it trails down his boot.

Joel shoots out an exhale and then whips around, throwing his arms over the bar to return fire, but his bullets only batter the wooden tables flipped on their sides, shielding the men set behind them. Joel ducks back and lands just in time for another powerful succession of bullets. A half broken bottle falls and crashes onto the floor and he shuts his eyes and swivels his head, feeling the liquor spray his cheek. 

He whirls back over the bar but after only a few shots hears a loathsome clicking. When he crouches down to check the cylinder, he finds it empty. 

“Fuck.” Joel grits through his teeth. 

Thoughts churn and froth in adrenaline as he slaps over empty pockets, and when a hand lands on his belt, where his knife should be, he looks down at it and realizes he must have forgotten it. 

Running the day back through his head, he remembers looking at you right before you left; he must have been too distracted and left it, probably on the table right next to his gun. Joel closes his eyes and hits his head back on the bar. “God damn it.”

Then his eyes shoot back open—where the fuck are you? His heart stops. Where the fuck are you?

Joel shuts his eyes again and realization of his true failure floods through him.

He loves you, but he’s never said a word. Never has a breath of it ever left his lips. Why? The fear that has kept it sealed away seems like complete bullshit compared to the electrocution of fear that shot through him when he realized he’s out of bullets. He had been afraid of living. He sees that now. 

Behind his eyes, he sees you. 

The first image that flows into his mind is your smile—something hard to find in the Boston QZ, something that took a long time to see, and something that knocked the breath out of him the first time he saw it. He had watched your lips broaden in slow motion, revealing teeth in a perfect curve. He’d made you laugh. He tried making jokes a lot more often after that, and started becoming familiar with your dazzling smile in return.

He remembers the first time you went on a run together; you had snuck out early in the morning to split through between guard’s shifts when the sun was still rising, gold in the divine forestry of the world beyond gray walls. There was a moment where the sun perfectly framed your profile, highlighting the curve of your nose, your lips, your brow, your lashes; the image is etched in his memory. 

One day, out in the streets, some Firefly approached him when he was really not in the fucking mood for it, and right when he took a step forward, tensing to throw a punch, you had grabbed his hand. It was the first time you’d touched, and it brought him down immediately. It didn’t calm him, distracted him more like it, but he let you drag him away. One look from you told him to quit it and he followed obediently behind you while you led him back to his apartment. Mesmerized, he watched the swish of your hips the whole way back. In front of his building you told him, “You need to learn how to pick your battles, Joel. He wasn’t worth your punch.” He objected, you returned, “Figure out what’s important and put that zeal of yours into that.” 

He thought on that for a long time, it was the precursor to his realization that he’s in love with you. He barely slept the night he did. When you showed up at his door the next morning, he was tongue tied. You asked him what was wrong, he told you he’d barely slept. When you asked why, he admitted he’d just been thinking about what you said, about figuring out what’s important, but when you asked him what conclusion he had come to, he lied. He felt completely unable to tell you then. 

After that day, Joel debated almost habitually if he’d ever tell you. That’s when the fantasies started. Torture came with it, too—he was so very torn, so full of longing; it was like he’d been cut, his love for you was like a wound, in such deprived circumstances. He was too afraid of losing his only friend, and to be left behind with a gash of unreciprocated love. The longing deepened quickly, but he grew to tolerate it; he needed you around, whether it was exactly how he wanted it or not. No matter what, he just didn’t want to lose you, and that fear kept the lips of his heart sewn shut. 

Once there was a time when you had arranged to meet up and you opened your door to meet him with a black eye, split lip, and a bent posture. A protective hand hovered over the side of your ribs while you stepped aside for him to enter your apartment. Joel stumbled over “Are you okay?” and “Who did this to you?”, pulled both further into your apartment and back out to beat the fucker’s ass, but you sat him down and kept him locked there when you begged him to stay—“Just stay here, okay? Please don’t go out there to start a fucking brawl in the street, that’d be stupid—you’d get teamed up on or busted by some FEDRA guard, I don’t want to get you lookin’ like me or locked in a cell or whatever the fuck—it’s just not worth it, okay? Just, please stay here.”

So he did, all day, and you let him clean you up better than you had yourself. He focused his gaze more than he has even when shooting a gun when you lifted your shirt up so he could check the damage to your ribs. It wasn’t all that difficult with that bruise though, black and blue with flecks of red, threatening tears in his eyes. He almost told you that day.

Still too scared. He needed this moment now, because now he might really lose you. 

The raspy voice of one of the men trapping Joel takes him out of his head, “Haven't heard any shots outta you in awhile, you outta bullets, fuck face?” He cackles, shrill and ruthless, “You’re fucked now, huh?” He cackles again, ugly and evil. The laugh itself sounds like that of a killer. 

“Come on out, we’ll spare ya!” Another shouts.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we’re real gentlemen, we don’t shoot unarmed men!” A third adds and they all laugh. 

“Gotta come out sometime!”

He’s right. Panicked, Joel glances around, looking for something to use. All there is is broken glass—useless from this position. 

“Shit.”

This quick run outside the walls, where he foolishly guessed he’d only need one gun, has turned into a shootout, and he’s lost track of you. The possibility of you having been killed ties Joel’s chest up tight as a noose. 

Then, three shots but no breaking glass, a man’s agonized scream, another shot, and quiet. Joel’s breathing does not calm and he remains flustered until your voice breaks the silence.

“Joel?”

Immediately, he shoots up to see you standing in the doorway of the restaurant, gun still raised, pointed off to the side at a slumped body. Your chest heaves and your hair is disheveled. 

“Are you okay?” You call out as he’s already holstering his gun and swinging around the bar. He basically charges at you, flooded with relief just at the sight of you. Then you collide, and Joel wraps his arms around you impulsively, his lips almost touching your shoulder with his nose on your neck. Joel closes his eyes, breathing in deeply with his cheek firmly against your skin and letting his arms squeeze you. Enveloped in you, his surroundings fall away, and all he wants is to hold you. 

A near death experience is often something that knocks some sense into people and Joel just hopes to god he can keep this fresh courage long enough to get home to finally tell you that he loves you, because there will come another time when he is fucked, doomed, out of bullets, and you may not be there, and he will die with a mouth full of regret. He doesn’t let go of you. 

“Joel, are you okay? Hey, hey, are you ok?” You put your hands on his shoulders, lightly pushing him away, but he doesn’t release you, nor does he open his eyes, wanting to just feel you and listen to you breathe.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He murmurs against you.

“Joel,” you say softly, then move your hands from his shoulders to instead wrap them around him, resting your chin on his shoulder and brushing your hands up and down his back slowly. Joel feels your chest expand and contract with a deep breath. After a few moments, you whisper, “We have to go. It’s not safe here.” 

Joel takes one more inhale of your scent before reluctantly loosening his grip. He pulls back slowly, letting his hands shift down, stilling on your forearms to hold you before him. He looks over your face, idling, a dreamy haze over his mind, almost dizzy from the adrenaline rush wearing off and the sleepiness of love.   

Your lashes flutter and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Your thumbs circle over where they rest on his biceps. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“We really should go.”

Joel doesn’t answer. You’re right, but he’s afraid to move, afraid that if he lets go, of you and of this moment, his fervor for truth will stay here, and he’ll leave it behind and stay silent. But should he risk staying here and Infected showing up, having heard all the gunfire, or if the recently deceased have friends not far behind?

Finally, he nods. As you turn and start toward the door, Joel’s hands, still not ready to let go of you, trail down your arms. One slips down into your hand and you look back at him, grow a smile and curl your finger to hook in his, tugging lightly to pull him behind you. 

And then you’re off. There’s no real room for conversation as you leerily duck and weave your way back to the QZ, but Joel forces the prior moments to run through his mind like a film. He is determined to grip this chance, thinking again and again of how he almost left you behind in this world without you knowing the truth about his feelings for you. 

When you reach the QZ, only barely making it before curfew when the guards will begin rolling through with their bright flashlights and loaded guns, you slip quietly through the streets before finally making it to the apartment you share. 

Only recently had you began living together, decidedly mostly out of convenience, since you go on runs together so frequently and have the same goal of leaving Boston—Joel has a brother out there somewhere, and you would simply like to get the fuck out of this cesspool that used to be Boston. Also because you get along so well, and well, he loves you, and he likes to be around you as much as possible. 

Decorating isn’t really something that exists in the QZ; belongings typically consist of necessities and maybe a few little personal indulgences, such as the butterfly window hanging that Joel couldn’t help himself from getting for the place. You arrived with your life in two bags. Nevertheless, your mark has trailed into his apartment, and somehow, the air feels a little cleaner with you there. 

Because you came to him, your bed is technically the pullout couch, but since his is much bigger, whenever you arrive home after him at night, he’s already on the pullout, forcing you into the more comfortable, actual bed. 

Every morning that Joel’s up first, or if he wakes in the night, he takes a moment, or a few, to lean in the doorframe to watch you sleep. He adores how you look when you’re unwound. If it’s in the middle of the night, he is often tempted—no, he aches to crawl in, even just to lay next to you. More frequently though, he fantasizes about moving closer, taking you into his arms, feeling your body against his, your hair in his face, to fill his lungs with your scent, even if it’s just sweat and ash. He imagines the little sound you’d make or the breath you’d let out once you feel him there, your fingers intertwining with his when he closes his hand over yours, you snuggling closer… sometimes he has to pull himself away for a quick dick pulling in the other room. Regardless of how it makes him feel—horny, smitten, quaking with yearning, or just some kind of tangled melancholy, he treasures these quiet moments and tries to memorize the relaxation on your face. 

These are not the only times he likes to watch you—sometimes, he’ll just be sitting at the table and you’ll be in the kitchen making coffee or in the living room tinkering with something or other, and he’ll play with ideas of a domestic life. Very secretly, he’ll roll around in the sound of your first name with his last name, or, unfrequently and especially confidently, a wedding.

Joel simply likes seeing you, being near you, and no matter what you’re doing, he adores spending time with you. The only way he can get a splash of contentment is when he’s with you—there’s nothing else here that could do that for him here. Only you, only you, runs through his head often. 

Tonight, you’re visibly exhausted as you walk into the apartment before him, dropping your bag on the table—right next to his knife, exactly where he had guessed it was—and rub your hands over your face. They slide down your neck, pausing briefly before falling to your sides. Then you turn to him and ask, “Are you ok?”

He nods, “I’m alright. Are you?”

“I am now, yeah,” you chuckle, “now that we’re back and I know you’re ok. What happened back there?”

Joel shrugs, “Ran outta bullets.” He chuckles sheepishly. 

“Oh.” you laugh. “Shit, yeah, you were three on one. I was around the corner fighting off one of those fucks. It was a knife fight though, usually takes a little longer.” Suddenly, you throw your hands to your head, “Fuck, I’m–I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner, I mean, you needed backup and I… took so long to fucking—”

“No, no,” He puts his hand out to stop you, his brow pinching up, “no, don’t worry about it sw—” he pauses, clearing his throat to pull back in ‘sweetheart’—maybe he’d been thinking about his feelings too much on the way back—“don’t go blamin’ yourself. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong. We got ambushed, that’s jus’ how it goes. I’m jus’ glad you’re alright—” Joel then paces over to you, scanning your face and body, “you sure you’re alright? Did’n’ get nicked or somethin’? Don’t hide that shit from me, you know,” 

“No, I’m fine. Maybe a couple scratches and bruises, but that’s it.” As he turns you, leaning in to check your back, you chuckle, “I’m fine, Joel.”

“You sure?” He asks again, quietly when he returns in front of you, turning your face from side to side with his fingers lightly along your jaw. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

As he looks over your face, he gets caught in your eyes, almost doelike with a sweet smile. He swallows hard, suddenly realizing your proximity. 

“Okay.” He almost whispers. 

Your lips twitch, you blink, and he swallows hard again, then lets go of you and steps back. 

You blow out an exhale, looking around. “There’s a box of bullets in my bag you can grab, I gotta wash this off,” you tell him as you walk backwards into the kitchen, then take your blade out of its sheath and turn to the sink. Joel moves to the table, slowly unzipping your bag, pulling out the box, and reloading his gun. His heart rate has picked up because he feels that now is the time and fuck, here it is, and he has to do this, it’s what he’d been promising himself he’d do the whole way back. His anxiety reassures him that this is his one chance; that damning fear is close to overtaking him again, and he can’t let it this time.

Joel plods over to lean against the counter next to the sink. 

As you run your knife under the water, you glance at him with a light smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He copies nervously. 

You glance at him again, then shut the water off, wipe the blade on your shirt, and resheath it on your hip. Leaning your hands over the edge of the sink, you shift your weight to one hip and turn your head to him. “What’s up?”

Joel meets your gaze and takes a deep breath. The broken sink continues to drip, clinking into the drain. “Well I,” he starts, “well, thank you, for… y’know.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You chuckle. 

“No, I mean, I know, I just… wanna thank you anyway. But, that’s not….” Joel takes another deep breath, stalling. “Uhm… well, I just… that was… that was a close call.” You nod, looking down. “And I’m… really glad… well… ok, listen.” You look back up at him but then he has to look back to the floor to gather his thoughts. “That was a close call.” He begins again. “I’ve had a few, but haven’t had one like that in awhile. You…” saved me. Not just then, you’ve been saving me for a long time. Joel clears his throat and takes another finalizing exhale, forcing the truth out with it, “You know what they say about… near death experiences I guess, where people get uh, moment of clarity, when they see everythin’ they regret doin’? Well, I think that could count as a near death experience, cause I was thinkin’... I mean, y’know, I got a lotta things I regret, but the one that was on my mind, just for a second, before you came in and saved my dumbass,” Joel looks up at you to smirks and you return one. “Well…” Joel’s smirk fades and as his eyes travel over your face his heart swells. Confidence and fear mix like water and oil within it, but the persistence he’d been cultivating surfaces and urges him to continue. “Well, I was thinkin’ about you.” Your head tilts slightly and your eyes soften, the corner of your lip pulled up slightly. “I was thinkin’ about how… I never told you that uh,” Joel looks down and nervously scratches his eyebrow. “I–I’m… in love with you.” He puts his hand on his hip, the other leaning on the counter, keeping his eyes down. Your hands clench the edge of the sink. His heart flees with pattering beats. The faucet drips its endless drip. 

At least you know. At least you know, he thinks to himself. He hadn’t built any expectations of what you might say, he can’t say he’s ready if you reject him, and he hasn’t thought far enough ahead to what he’d do if you do. He just needs you to know. 

Joel watches your fingernails turn white pressed against the silver of the sink and feels his heartbeat punching in his chest. This is his moment of truth. He knows that one way or another, nothing will be the same now; if this is the end between the two of you, he will never let himself share a truth like this ever again. He will leave Boston tomorrow and never look back. 

Finally, he looks up at you for some kind of tell, his lips parted, brow anxiously knitting together, but your eyes are locked unrevealingly on the drain. “Do you—could you—I mean, i–is that ok?” 

“This is something you planned on taking to the grave?” You ask, finally turning to him with still unrevealing eyes. 

Joel rubs his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes, shamefaced. “…I did. I jus’… I don’t wanna ruin everythin’.” He shakes his head. “Look, y’know, I really like you, I mean I lo–I love you, but, but, I jus’, y’know… like bein’ around you. I like everythin’ about you, I like talkin’ to you, I mean I feel like I can talk t’you. An’ I mean, we work pretty well together,” glancing at you, he adds, “don’t’y’ think?” He moves his hand to rub the back of his neck. “I think you’re so,” Joel looks back to the floor, finishing quietly and awkwardly, “beautiful… and I jus’… don’t wanna lose you. An’ back there… I thought I was gonna. I mean, I was gonna lose eveyrthin’, I was gonna lose my life, an’ I felt so… jus’… full of regret. That I never told you. I hope I show it, that’s the import’n thing. But I jus’ thought it was import’n that… you knew that I love you. An’ you’re worth lovin’. An’ I jus’ felt like you should know.” He concludes. 

“Well… I’m glad you told me.” This makes Joel look up and is met with a light smile. This time, your eyes are soft. You pull your lips in briefly before continuing, “I really like you too. I mean, I really like living with you and… I really like spending time with you and talking to you. You’re the first friend I’ve had in awhile,” you chuckle, “and… I feel safe around you.” Joel breathes deeply. You feel safe around him, one of his deepest desires come true. I’ll keep you safe forever. Just stay with me forever, and I’ll keep you safe forever. I’ll love you forever. “And… I just really like you, and I’m… I love you too.” You breathe out, “I love you Joel,” and your eyes are on his lips and you turn to him, fall into him and you kiss. 

You taste sweet and you’re in his arms again and your fingers tangle in his hair and you grip his shirt. Joel’s hand holds your bicep and then the back of your neck and his arm wraps around your waist. “I love you,” Joel mumbles into your lips and pulls you closer until his body is flush with yours. 

“I love you,” you return, and sling your arms around his shoulders, both hands in his hair as his slides over your face, holding his thumb in your cheek, his eyes squeeze shut. 

How long he’s been waiting to have you like this. 

You’re both sweaty and grimey and there’s a tinge of copper in your scent but Joel appreciates it with the rest of it. He smooths his hand over your tangled hair, bunching it in his hand to keep your face in place for him as he slips his greedy tongue through your teeth. You twist your tongue with his, them becoming their own snaking dance while you pull yourselves desperately closer to each other. Joel takes your face in his hands and, like a dam breaking, tells you again, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in between kisses. In response, you hum into his mouth and wrap your arms tight around him, dragging over his back and into his hair, pressing your bodies even closer together. 

You pull back with hot, heavy breaths, still sliding your hands all over him, and say, “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” and punctuate with a slow sloppy kiss. Joel’s chest swarms and then he hoists you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Feeling your weight fills him with satisfaction he didn’t know he longed for and hums into your mouth, starting for his bedroom with you in his arms. 

The passion develops, as natural and guaranteed as changing weather. The novelty creates a storm that Joel is unprepared for but embraces with awe. The storm develops quick when he drops you onto the bed and you reach up to pull him on top of you by the lapels of his flannel, taking him back to your mouth like you’re starving for it. Joel’s entire body is hot as his hips weigh down over yours. Electricity buzzes over the area of contact and Joel feels himself getting hard, the storm now a hurricane of lust that pushes his hand up your shirt. When you moan, it vibrates through his lips and all the way down to his cock. He comes up to sit on his knees and when he lifts his shirt you follow, eager to see the parts of each other never before revealed. 

“Fuck,” Joel mumbles and returns back down on your body. His hand slides lazily over your torso and he moans into your lips when you reach down for his belt.

“I want you,” you say, and Joel moans again.

“I’m yours, baby.”

You slip his belt open and don’t bother with his buttons or zipper before slipping your hand in to slide over his length. Joel pulls back for only a moment to breathe, then goes back to attacking your lips. His hand reaches down to grip your wrist in a frenzied move, overwhelmed by the feeling of your hand on his hardening cock. 

“You like that?” You ask into his mouth.

“Yes,” is all he can get out, then moans when your hand closes over his base. 

“God, you’re big.”

“You want it?” He slurs. 

“Yes.”

At that, Joel slides his own hand down your pants, palm on your clit while he curves his fingers to feel the wetness already soaking through your underwear. He moans, once again overwhelmed by the want he feels from you. “Yeah, I know you do.”

You remove your hand from him, instead wrapping your legs around him to pull him down, squeezing his hand in, allowing him to feel the details under it. He hums and bites your lip. 

Joel raises up again, using one hand to unbutton and unzip your pants with the other working on his own. Breathing out deeply as you watch him, your hands slide over sides up to over your face and into your hair, reaching up to squeeze the pillows your head rests on. 

A lamp mistakenly left on allows for light for him to view you under. Admiring you, Joel shakes his head and speaks his mind, “Beautiful ain’t enough to describe it.” 

You chuckle and sigh, looking down to watch him tug down your underwear and jeans. You widen your legs for him to tug them down, bending one knee to remove a leg and then the other for him to pull free. Joel doesn't bother with his own, only pulling his down enough to make room for his cock, which bounces out of his lowered boxers. When your eyes flick from it back to his, your body lifts and falls with a deep sigh. Seeing the lust in your eyes, he finds himself unable to take any time with it, and he comes back down on you, slipping his hand to his member, now rock hard, to guide it to your entrance. 

“Yes,” you breath out, once again opening your legs for him. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” 

Joel kisses your lips lightly before pulling away to look through the window of his body above you to the dark mess of curls between your thighs, the muscles of his groin tensing as he enters you. 

“Fuck. you’re tight.”

“You’re big.”

“Too big?”

You shake your head. 

“Good.” And with that, the entirety of his shaft enters you and you both moan.

“Shit.”

“Fuck me, Joel,” you whisper.

Joel groans deeply at your response, then repositions, taking his hand away to set his forearm over the bed, his other hand dragging over your face, resting his thumb on your lip. He watches your face as he starts with long, slow strokes. After a few, he can’t get himself to pull so far back out of you, needing to be inside you and unable to help himself from starting to snap his hips into a fast pace. The force of his full length has you bouncing and you close your eyes, eyebrows furrowed up with your mouth opened wide, pouring out moans. 

“Yeah?” Joel says breathily, “You like that, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,”

“I wanna make you cum, baby,” he says, then messily kisses the corner of your mouth. 

“I want you to cum inside me,” 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up with my cum?” He says, then bites your lip.

It flips up from between his teeth when you reply, “Yes.”

“I wanna make you cum first.” To punctuate, Joel’s pace quickens, loading his full length into you over and over again.

“Joel, feels so good,” you squeeze the words out, eyes still closed and brow pinched up, fingers raking through his hair. 

The feeling of your hands holding his face close to yours and your tight walls around him fulfills Joel’s long lived need to unite your bodies like this and his chest is filled with all the feelings of every moment he’s fantasized about this exact scenario. 

“God, please, fuck me,”

He hums, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Finally, your eyes snap open, locking on his as you careers his face, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,”

Joel reattaches your mouths messily, sliding his tongue around your lips before it finds its way back in, and your nails scratch over his cheeks as you pull him closer. Your moans break the hold in brief intervals, singing them to each other as you fuck. Joel moves a hand down to grip your ass, holding you steady as he ruts into you. 

Pleasure builds inside of him warm and tight and Joel suddenly pulls out, “Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Without pause, he moves back on the bed and settles his mouth between your legs, sliding his hands up your thighs, and as he starts his tongue along your slit, your hands go back to pull at his hair. 

“Oh shit Joel,” he hears you, muffled with your thighs over his ears, and groans into you as he continues to slip his tongue up and down. His head is clamped tighter between your thigh when he sucks your clit and he feels your moans vibrating through you, your fingernails scratching his scalp. He uses the tip of his tongue on the underside of your clit with his lips suctioned around it, and in no time, you’re trembling around him, bobbing your crotch into his mouth. He feels you crying out more than he hears it and only pulls away when you tug him away by his hair. When he looks up, all he sees is your jaw, your head laid back, breasts on display with your back arched up. He pushes himself up, admiring how your toes curl at the end of your spread legs. Joel smiles as your quivering subsides. Crawling back on top of you, he presses his hand over your now soaking wet pussy, carrying out your orgasm with a few more spasms. As soon as he comes to your face, Joel grabs your lips with his again, kissing you sluggishly with your deep exhales tickling his face. 

“Oh my fucking god, Joel,” you say, pulling his face away. 

“Yeah?” He smiles.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, then bring your mouths back together. Then you take yourself away again, fingertips grazing over his cheeks when you say, “I want you inside me again, I want you to cum inside me,”

Eagerly, Joel is already reaching back down for his dick, slicking it over your pussy. “Yeah? You starvin’ for it, ain’t ya?”

“Mhm,” You nod, your eyes dragging up from his lips back to meet his gaze, circling your thumbs over his cheeks. Sweet desperation paints your face with your brow furrowed and lips swollen. You lick into his mouth, bobbing your hips up to tease his tip inside of you. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Joel says as he guides his cock once again into you, “I’ll give you what you want. Just tell me, an’ it’s yours.”

“I want you,” you reply, bucking your hips up to bring him further in. 

“I’m yours.” He whispers, lips brushing yours as he speaks, before finally filling you with his cock. 

“Yeah, more,” you whine as he begins to fuck you again. “Harder,” is music to his ears, and your body jolts on the bed as he obeys. “Like that, like that,” you breath out, eyes closing briefly before opening back up to his, hands still cupping his face. Though you’re not kissing, your hot and heavy breaths create a link between your mouths and you use the remaining space to keep locked on each other's eyes. 

“You feel so good, baby,” Joel tells you, his voice jumping with his pace “I wanna feel you cum again, can’y cum for me again, sweetheart?”

You simply nod, starting to lay out short moans as you tie your legs around him. “You’re so big,” you mewl, and Joel can’t help but lick into your sounds. You whine again, clamping your legs around him tighter. Open mouthed moans part your lips connection, but Joel appreciates the view, watching your eyes squeeze shut and then open again, lips wet with his spit and your own cum. 

Joel groans in appreciation of it all, your sweaty bodies gripping each other’s in every way, him providing for you, making you feel good, making you cum, and from his lips slips again, “I love you.”

Your response is in the hand thrown back to clutch the pillow, eyes screwed shut again with your lips in an O, and Joel replies with harder thrusts, your groins meeting as he bottoms out. Needing to stabilize himself on the rocking bed, Joel’s hand lands on the wall. 

“Gonna cum for me? Such a good girl, doin’ what I ask. Yeah, I can feel you comin’ close baby. Cum for me, darlin’. Cum for me, and then I’ll cum inside you, js’ like you asked. Go on, baby. Ah, fuck.” 

You cry out, gripping Joel’s hair as your head flips back again, legs still keeping Joel locked deep inside of you. As he feels your pussy contract around him, Joel starts to breathe heavier, letting out grunts, groans, and moans as his thrusts get messier, bumping into your harder to a needy, unsteady beat.

“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” is his turn to cry out, and, looking down at you, and in the same loud voice, he says, “cum for me baby, cum with me, cum with me.”

Your free hand grabs his wrists as he holds your side, chest jolting with lustful breaths, and then you’re shuddering again, and Joel raises up to grip your sides with both hands. Your orgasms are drawn out as Joel pulls you onto him with deep thrusts, pausing inside of you while he pumps his cum into your tight, quivering sheath. 

When your climaxes subside, you’re left staring at each other, breathing heavily. Joel smiles, then gently lowers himself down to kiss you tenderly. He waits until he’s empty of cum to pull out, cock softening as it rests in the V of your hips. 

“That was fucking amazing,” you say between breathes. 

“You feel better than I ever coulda fuckin’ dreamed.” Joel chuckles, then kisses you one more time before rolling off of you to lie at your side, turning his head to meet you looking back at him.

“You dreamt about that?” You smile.

“Fuck yeah I did.” Joel admits shamelessly. You laugh. “Did you?” 

“Once or twice.” You shrug, chuckling with a toothy smile. Joel chuckles back, then looks up with a heavy sigh. He smiles to himself, then feels your finger on the edge of his lips. He closes his eyes. This is something he’s never felt before, and truly never dreamed. It really is better than anything he ever could have imagined, laying next to you like this, his body still warm, your touch on his lip. Nothing outside of this room exists, nothing over than this bed with you in it. He hums another sigh, then turns his face back to you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You say with a smile. 

Joel takes your wrist with his hand, feeling the muscles move as you continue to pet his face with your finger.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

His hand falls away from your wrist and he rests it on his stomach, stars in his eyes as he gazes back into yours. 

There's a few minutes of silence, but it’s filled with an air between you like a rosy haze of sweet smelling smoke, lit up under golden light. 

Joel supports his head with his hand under his pillow, allowing a better view to stay with your eyes. As he stargazes, he takes a deep breath through his nose and decides to admit, “…I almost said this before,” his mouth pauses open before he continues, “you saved me today, out there… but you saved me before then. You saved me a long time ago. For a… long, long time, I didn’t really know what I was doin’. I know I had to go get Tommy, I just needed to get a car.” He shifts his head to look up, “I still need to get a car.” Then he looks back at you, “We still need to get a car, you know I’m not goin’ without you. But… I was lost. I felt… empty.” Joel swallows, looking over your face, “But then I had you. N’ then I felt like… I was alive again. Not just survivin’. You made me feel… real. I forgot what smilin’ felt like,” Joel chuckles, “until you. All I wanted was to leave. I mean, I still wanna leave here, Bostn’, but then, all I really wanted to be was with you. Anywhere, with you.”

You smile, and then roll to your side, sliding your hand over his chest and kiss him. He closes his eyes but keeps still. Heaven sounds in a cloud passing over him as your sweetness once again blesses his lips. 

“You know, it’s funny how much of that I’ve always felt, too.” You start, still over him, and start to trace over his features with a featherlight touch. “I didn’t have a brother. I just wanted to get out. I was happy to meet you because you were a way out. But… you weren’t just a way out of Boston, you were a way out of… everything. Only for moments at a time, but,  you were. It’s like… I just can’t believe I found you. In the mess of everything, you were there… and I’m just so… grateful, I guess. That’s not the right word… Just… Thank god for you. I kind of think god is dead, after all the… you know, everything, but thank god for you.”

Your words bring tears to his eyes. He allows them to bead in the corners, and you touch them away with your fingertip. “I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you so much, Joel.’

Joel was something without you, but not much. A knife, a gun, a severed brother, a fractured father, a frightened soul staggering around a broken city. With you, he’s carried back to love, and he can feel softness finding its way back into his veins from a heart inlaid with velvet. 

He may not believe in fate, but Joel likes the idea that he was destined to find you, and you him, and he thanks whatever was responsible for granting him the courage that grabbed him the moment it did so that he could finally tell you what you mean to him, because he knows the fearful man in his core couldn’t do it alone. 

Love, bona fide, is a deep pool in his center that never dried up, but was fortified with pieces of his dark desperation, broken down himself into spikes he assembled around it. But now with you, he surrenders, and, bodies held close, he dips with you into the warmth of his pure waters. 

[ohmeadows]

clorivia 46 >:)

clorivia, out of envy or jealousy. (and with hex's permission: feat. arle with he/him pronouns)

//

Clorinde hasn't been able to take her eyes off of Navia and Arlecchino all night. Even as more and more court ladies swarm around her asking for a dance, she turns them all down, too tense to let Navia drop out of her line of sight for even a moment.

She wants, needs, to grab Navia by the shoulders and ask her what she thinks she is doing, being seen around town with a Fatui Harbinger, but a part of her knows very well. Arlecchino gives her something Clorinde can't: a good business deal, and maybe... It twists in her chest, sickly with jealousy. She hasn't missed a single glance Arlecchino throws Navia's way, nor the way his hand lingers on Navia's lower back at all times.

And the way they dance... It has become a focal point of the entire gala night, and even from the distance where Clorinde stands in the far back, obscured by shadows, she can see the fine beads of sweat dripping down Navia's neck and between her breasts. She's enraptured, completely under Arlecchino's spell.

The tangled, snarling feeling in her chest worsens.

Another dance ends, the couples on the floor breathing a sigh of relief and clapping. As partners change hands, the crowd shifts and turns, and underneath that din: a gasp she is all too familiar with. Navia's.

Clorinde peels away from the shadows and darts between the dancers, quick as lightning, catching Navia's wrist expecting to see her wounded, hurt, terrified. Instead, Arlecchino sighs, parting his lips from Navia's, annoyed at the interruption.

"Had enough of skulking in the shadows?" Arlecchino asks with a twisted smile, Navia's lipstick all over his mouth.

It comes over her with a fury she can't swallow back, and she drags Navia behind her off of the dance floor, past the stunned crowd. It's uncouth, against the courtier and gala etiquette, but she can't stop and she definitely can't turn back, feeling the Knave's cruel gaze burning a hole in her back.

Navia's ragged breaths fill her ears as they divert into a quiet and empty corridor, and she finally lets go of her.

"What are you doing?" Clorinde whispers at Navia. She can barely look at her, the way her cheeks are flushed, her lips wet and freshly kissed, she looks as if plucked out of a painting. And none of this was Clorinde's doing. She has never, can never, and yet she wants to. But would Navia stand looking at her after? Would Navia ever respect her again?

Navia doesn't reply, her breath high and shallow, her eyes on Clorinde as if she's pleading for mercy, or worse: more.

"Navia." It takes everything out of Clorinde to stay calm, jealousy and envy ripping at each other, fraying her control to pieces. "Why in front of me? What do you want from me?"

Navia's eyes flash, her focus crystal clear. "I want you."

And all her years of control, she precise and effective, slip out of her hands and crash into a thousand pieces, rendered dust and nothing by Navia's tone.

Clorinde pushes her up against the wall and kisses her, hungry and angry and desperate, furious at tasting another on Navia's lips, delighted at hearing her gasp and moan into her mouth. She's been playing such a twisted game.

When they break apart for air, Navia's eyes glimmer as she licks her lips. "Won't you punish me, Clorinde?"

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Epilogue Sneak Peek!

Yes.

Tis I.

Emerging from the depths once again to offer you a tidbit, a morsel, and then yeet back to the darkness from which I came.

It was at that point you noticed Peli’s face.

Her very, very, very distraught face.

Following her line of sight, your eyes went wide as you took in the Crest over your shoulder. Sparks flew, singe marks lined the hull. Did I do that?

A poor little astromech Peli had just acquired was trying to tune up something near the ramp of the ship, and Din, once he turned to survey the damage for himself, spying an unfamiliar droid linking into his ship, let his spear loose without a second thought.

If you hadn't had the mind to divert it midair with the Force right before impact, the droid would be a pile of steaming wires right now instead of a trembling pile of bolts.

The screech of terror it let out as the spear made impact right above its head made you want to laugh, but you stifled it into your hand, turning a disapproving glare on Din when he asked why you did that.

“We don’t murder innocent droids.”

“No droid is innocent,” he grumbled, looking over at the scrappy little astro unit.

“They are until proven guilty.”

“I don’t need any proof,” Din mumbled. “Have all the proof I need.”

“You have nothing.”

Before he could say anything else, the angry mech was rolling toward the bounty hunter with an electrified arm ready to zap him, but you held it at bay with the Force. You also held Din back, snorting when he turned a look on you.

“No.”

[thatstolenpayal]

I see the disappointment spreading its roots through us. we withdraw from our hug, and my welled up eyes meet his with a futile effort to see something, but in vain. I divert my gaze from him. it's been like this. it hurts. but it hurts more when I think of letting go. I see the remorse in his demeanor as he runs his hands through his hair, the ones which once used to hold me so lovingly. my heart breaks every time I look at him.

they say to not be loved is painful, but to be loved before and abandoned of it, is mortifying.

phir aate kyun yaha karne aakhon me ho baarish? ab aaye to theher jaao na. aur pucho na zara mere din ke baare me bhi, bas itne me sambhal jaau haan

husn, anuv jain