#Like maybe a little bright or not quite a proper angle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawwbyy · 15 days ago

Text

STRAWBY'S 100 FOLLOWERS SPECIAL

PART 3 - Sex Tape with PAIMON

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ TAGS: Recording duh, f!reader oral (m receiving), titty sucking, fingering, squirting, mostly dom!paimon WC: 2.200

"Hm... Alrighty, there we goo~ All set uup~!" Paimon's sweet, syrupy voice resonated on the video, the audio crisp and the quality high: he made sure to get a nice equipment for this. After all, if you're gonna make homemade porn, you better give it your all!... That's what he said to you, at least, to justify the professionalism of it all.

You and Paimon were hanging out one day, dressing up and playing as per usual, before you came up with the idea of recording some dancing videos together. Paimon beamed at this, jumping up and down and holding your hands as he danced with you, excited for you to teach him some earth choreography.

Eventually, after doing some cute up-beat songs from your playlist, a slow and seductive one followed. No big deal, the dance for this one was really nice as well, but it was very sensual. You and Paimon giggled together as your hands ran down his body on beat, and when your faces got closer, Paimon leaned in to give you a playful kiss, right for the mood. What wasn't quite right for the mood (or...maybe it was, actually) was that little peck turning into a passionate makeup session. Paimons hand grabbed at your waist and ass, and you raked your nails down his scalp, caressing his hair. When you separated to get some air, Paimon spoke in his cutesy but low tone. "...Heey~ We should record something sexy one daay, just you and mee~" He smiled bright, winking before leaning in to kiss you.

So, that day is today. Paimon was on the other side of the room messing with the camera placing, working on the correct angles and proper lighting, and you were sat on his fluffy pink sheets in a similarly colored babydoll. Your breath was a bit shaky with nervousness, and you fiddled with your thumbs as you waited for Paimon. Soon enough, he walked over to the bed and the matress sunk with his added weight.

"Hmm... Are you nervous, my dear~?" He placed a kiss on your cheek. "...Just forget there's a camera and let's have fun like usual, alriiight~?"

His decorated nails moved to stroke the sheer fabric shielding your skin and he giggled, sliding closer and leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was deep, his wet tongue entering your mouth and rolling against your own. You both moaned into the kiss, his hands caressing your cheeks and legs. Ocasionally you took initiative and bit his lip, pulling and earning an amused chuckle from him, but he proved more... knowledgable than you, sucking your tongue with a moan and adding more stimulation by brushing his fingers against your covered nipples or stroking your thighs.

"Let's keep going with the shoow~" He leaned away from you suddenly, speaking mostly to himself. He looked down at your breasts, humming as he moved his fingers to wrap around the bow securing the babydoll closed, unwrapping it like a gift and licking his lips at the sight. You were blushing, cheeks and ears red but you couldn't deny that the feeling of being watched was arousing you to a new level. Your skin felt like it was on fire, your eyes ocasionally landing on the camera planted pointing at you which made a hot shiver run down your spine.

Paimons soft hands grabbed your boobs, massaging the flesh and he laughed breathily. "Aren't these just the prettiest tits eveeer~? I just wanna gobble 'em right uup~" He purred, leaning down to plant a kiss on your hardened nipple before letting his tongue roll out and around it, taking the whole thing into his mouth while looking seductively into the camera. You moaned, raising your arms a bit unsure, placing your hands on Paimons head. You figured that you would put on a show for now, making sure to arch your back just a tad bit more and moan louder than usual and letting your lidded eyes meet with the lens of the camera ocasionally.

Paimon switched from one breast to the other, tainting your skin with his spit and sucking on the skin to leave purple marks and massaging whichever side was left unattended. Eventually he stopped his passionate movements, separating from your nipple with a pwah~ sound and leaving a trail of saliva connecting your reddened skin with his plump, glossy lips. You chased after them, magnetized by the color and fullness and kissed him deeply once again, and as a sudden boldness took over you decided to push him back slightly with your hands, moving to his shorts and shoving them downwards to paw at his cock. As you freed it from the confines of the fabric it slapped against his abdomen and he let out a relieved sigh. It was really pretty, long and pale with a pinkness at the tip that was so fitting for Paimon. You admired it for a bit, before moving closer to the pillows, facing the camera for a better angle and taking it into your mouth. At first you were confident and technical, swirling your tongue around his tip to ease yourself into it before taking a breath of air and going down, letting your throat adjust to the intrusion. You were led on by Paimons sounds, his femenine voice was extra beautiful when he was aroused: moans, gasps and whimpers leaving his mouth and you were sure this man was made to be a pornstar. He tucked your hair behind your ears lovingly, his eyes starstruck by the sight of you bobbing your head up and down his cock, and of course he remembered to give the camera an ocasional gaze, eyes clouded with lust and pleasure. After sucking for a bit, your blowjob started to get sloppier, your pace quickened causing wet slurping sounds to echo in the video and around the room, and that combined with the vibration of your moans around his shaft led Paimon to lose control, grabbing your hair and shoving you all the way down to make you deepthroat him.

You coughed slightly, swallowing around his dick before jumping slightly when a long burst of cum flowed down your throat, accompanied by a porno worthy moan from Paimon. You weren't sure if he was amping it up for the camera, but you were sure not gonna complain when his reactions made your slick run down your thighs. Paimons moaned drowned out into a giggle, and he smiled at you even brighter than before, the childish expression combined with his usually doe eyes being dark and lidded made your shudder with anticipation. He crawled towards you, his eyes piercing into yours with purpose. He moved you, directing you to open your legs towards the camera. You let your head hit the soft heart-shaped pillows, the embarrassment from before washing over you again, feeling exposed. He played with your inner thighs, smiling to the camera.

"She's so beautiful with her legs open like thiiis~ This lingerie is very cute on her isn't iit~?" he purred, letting out a satisfied little chuckle. Although you were embarrassed, you couldn't help but part your legs more to the camera at his sweet words, the praise and his tender touches making your knees buckle and your pussy drip. He directed a manicured finger to your panties, playfully drawing circles in the air like one would when feeding a child, before rubbing his finger up and down in a line in your panties, your pussy lips bulging around it and peeking through the sides of the lacy garment. Paimon licked his lips, looking down at your once more to admire your expression before moving your sticky underwear to the side. The material had a dark, wet patch by now, and as Paimon parted your pussy it glistened, shiny with slick. He made an audible ooo~ sound at the sight, giggling like a schoolgirl with excitement. He started playing with your wetness, flicking his fingers around and ocasionally shoving a finger slightly into your hole to pull out a string of creamy essence, and your head was feeling fuzzier by the second, your eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. "I'm happy I got my nails done recentlyy~ So it looks even cuter when I play with your pretty pussy like thiiis~" He cooed , happy as can be as he continued to make a show of how wet you had gotten by now.

As your slick started to drip down his wrist, he leaned down, murmuring. "...Wanna show the camera your pretty expressions~? Don't be shy, honeyy~" He gave you a peck on your reddened nose, and helped you up to lean on your elbows. You hesitated to make eye contact with the camera, instead looking down at where his fingers played with your clit, breathy moans leaving your throat. As you looked up to Paimon, you could see him gazing lovingly at you, his expression calm and reassuring, like he was proud of you. You blushed even harder at this, and let out a strangled whimper, to which he chuckled. After teasing you for a while, he slowly started inserting a long finger into you, moving it in and out to let you accomodate as you sighed with pleasure. Your shoulders quivered and your legs suddenly felt like giving out, and as he carefully inserted a second finger your brain short-circuited for a moment, overwhelmed by the pleasure after being teased for so long. Paimon only smiled at this, his cheeks dusted with a characteristic pink (be it from makeup or sheer arousal, you weren't sure), and soon enough he started moving his wrist faster, curling his fingers with expertise. He moved his fingers around for a bit before finding your g-spot, your body jerked and your stomach shaking with a shudder.

"Hehe~ I found your sweetspot, my dearr~" He made sure to hit that spot continuously, and everytime his delicate nails grazed against that spongy spot inside you, you could feel your body tumble, and electrifying feeling rushing up your curved back and making your brain melt more and more. Your sticky slick coated his palm and reached his wrists the more the squelching continued, and Paimon made it even more erotic, letting out his own breathy moans at the pornographic sight of you parted and sensitive for him. Without stopping, he moved his other hand, placing a manicured finger on top of your clit and pressing it like a button, the lubrication making it slide against it with ease as he drew (probably cutesy) shapes on it. Your moans were being practically forced out of you, the combined stimulation of his long fingers pressing against your most sensitive spot again and again and your clit being played with sending your mind into a frenzy. Your arms buckled and you once again fell back against the pillows, this time involuntarily as your body struggled to keep up with Paimons onslaught, your back arching and your chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths. At this, Paimon bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood, completely focused on his task. After a few more thrusts, your thighs shaked uncontrollably as you came, a sudden burst of pleasure washing over your entire body, but Paimon continued his movements, led on by the way your walls tightened around his fingers. He furrowed his brows, mumbling a sweet "Come oon~". Suddenly, your eyes rolled back, your legs and toes stretching out and a sudden hot-flash with you like a truck as you squirted all over his hand, the clear liquid spraying all over Paimons sheets as he continued to finger you. He removed his fingers after a while, sticking to rubbing your clit until you winced in slight pain and giggling to himself like a maniac at the sight of you coming undone for him. He moaned and you cried out, your body giving out completely with exhaustion.

"Sorry sweety, I might've gotten a bit carried away at the eend~ You just looked so cute with your eyes rolling baack!~" He sang, and you cringed at the probably embarrassing expression you had made. Paimon placed a quick peck on your lips, turning around to admire how absolutely soaked his pink sheets had become and he could feel himself get even harder.

As you laid there breathless, Paimon got up from the bed and happily strut to the camera. He smiled at the lens, doing a peace sign and whinking, cooing sweetly. "Thank youu, I hope the show was goood~ She's simply enchanting, riiight~?" He giggled, extending his arm to hit the "off" button. At the sound of the camera shutting off, you used all the strength you had left to lift yourself, looking at him with a raised brow.

"Hmm~? Ah, riight. This part is only for me to see, hehee~" You chuckled, extending your arms towards him, leading him to crawl back to into the bed. The video came out pretty good when you sat down to watch it, but of course, it didn't include the whole night you had spent with Paimon. That, was for only you two to share.

Strawby hereee, i got really carried away writting all the sex aspects on this one, and i really like how it turned out! it's really hot i'd say. I think i'm improving with these special fics lol

Also I'm sorry for the sudden ending, but im ngl i don't like writting the d in v portion of sex LOL idk how to make it hot cause... lesbian brain. i already struggle enough with blowjobs. you might notice that im a big fan of fingering and coochie eating (which i chose to leave out because i always do the same shit) anyways, hope you enjoyed!

#whb #what in hell is bad #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb paimon #whb smut

90 notes · View notes

anonymousbeefriendfanfics · 2 years ago

Note

Could I please get a HC for Felix from Last legacy for an MC who when they first woke up there had unnaturally colored hair (blue if I'm being self-indulgent or basic F/C if non descriptive.)

How Felix would react to MC's hair color fading and maybe him helping them dye it again.

Of course! Sorry it's a little short, but I hope you enjoy this - it feels so very good to write again, and I hadn't realized how much I missed Felix!

Fandom: Last Legacy

Character(s): Felix

Warnings: None

For starters, I'm going to take a slightly unique angle on this and assume that hair color changing is not that unusual in Astraea. Sure, one could argue that Rime's strawberry pink hair is as natural as his antlers, but what about Anisa? Her mother's hair appears to be solid, yet she's got those lovely streaks in her hair. So it's possible, however... I'm going to say that it isn't dye, but magic.

Imagine salons employing mages who can color your hair instantly, along with other feats, such as causing it to grow out instantly when you've tired of a short haircut. Or salons with a host of magical potions in stock that can be applied to your hair similarly to our dye and instantly causes the color to change! I imagine this is a bit more expensive than just getting a haircut, though, which might be a good way to explain the lack of such vibrant colors in Astraea - most people cannot afford it, or maybe can't access any salons with such options. Or mayhaps it's simply more common than we were led to believe!

For funsies, I'm going to say that Felix's hair is naturally a much duller shade of brown, but during his early teenage years he experimented with spells and potions to color it a bright purple to scandalize Escell, but it didn't quite work, so now it's just... got this purpleish hue to it.

It might So when you turn up with colored hair, it's the least of anyone's concerns. Forget your hair, they want to know where you came from, how you ended up here, and how to get you home!

But the thing about magically colored hair is that it doesn't quite suffer the same phases as our dye. It's either fully permanent, if one could pay enough or find a talented enough mage, or it simply fades away like magic and leaves your natural color behind. But this... this is different. The color fades, and your roots begin to show through as your hair grows out, and no one's ever seen anything quite like it before.

Once Felix finally notices, oblivious little dork that he is, his first instinct is that something is wrong - he skips straight over the possibility that you might be sick, as Sage would surely suggest, and instantly fears corruption. If magic is the thing that colors hair, then surely it must be the cause of strangely un-coloring hair as well. Think of it as an allergic reaction, of sorts; right as you start learning how to perform magic and becoming more and more proficient with it, your vibrant hair seems to wither and become dull.

It's Felix, so... he probably doesn't bring it up immediately. Instead, this loveable idiot decides to fix the problem himself, and tries dissuading you from using magic. The sudden 180 from encouraging you to study the heaviest tomes and practice until you're utterly exhausted to trying to talk you out of doing those exact things is... concerning, to say the least, and you're not that easily convinced.

One way or another, it comes out, whether it's you confronting him, Felix spilling his concerns on his own, or some knightly intervention from Anisa. You explain that your hair is dyed, and Felix freezes, assuming you meant, you know... died. Hopefully you'll explain the difference to him before he launches into a tangent of apologies.

Once he understands, however, he's on a quest to renew your hair for you. He either attempts it himself - which, as mentioned, might not have the best outcome - or he takes you to the best salon in Porrima to have your hair professionally done by a proper mage who can ensure the color will never fade again, unless of course you want a different color.

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open! Tag List 🐝

#beefriend-writes #beefriends-hcs #last legacy #felix escellun #fictif last legacy #nix hydra #felix last legacy #hair dye fading

47 notes · View notes

skulkiee · 1 month ago

Text

iveee got part thiiiiirteen of the strangler fiig au

They find an island eventually. It looks green and lush in the distance, similar to the lotus islands, Polites' mind tells him. He doesn't speak this thought to anyone though, and instead sets their course towards the island.

They're desperate by this point. So much has gone wrong, so much has fallen apart. They're all wary of the island, but their hunger and exhaustion and fear overrides any other emotions, and the island offers food and shelter and rest.

Hopefully.

Polites doesn't know what the crew will do if it doesn't. They certainly won't make it back to Ithaca. He thinks they all know that. Except maybe Odysseus.

He watches as eyes light up at the call of land ahead. As the men who had been sat around the deck, not really doing much stand up one by one. They'd been letting the wind in their sails carry them for the past few days, everyone was too tired to commit to actually rowing their old boat, and Polites had ordered against the work eventually, after their food supplies had properly run dry and he didn't want the men to use up their energy.

But now the men stand, one by one, eyes alighting at the sight of the island, and the silence that had fallen upon the crew when they'd realised that their food was actually, properly gone lifts.

The men sit at the oars, their eagerness to get to the island gifting them strength, their voices loud with the excitement of food and shelter. Rest.

"Perimedes!" Polites calls, "Help me with the sails?" He grabs one of the ropes that are used to angle the sails, waiting for the other man to grab the second one before untying it.

Together they wrangle the sail so that the ever-growing wind would push them towards the island, shouting with the rest of the crew. Sounds of joy echo out over the deck, laughter and bright voices, for they shall not die today or in the near future.

We're the ones who carry on The flames of those who've gone And our comrades will not die in vain

Polites is smiling when the boat runs up onto the beach. He is smiling.

"We will set up camp on the beach tonight." He tells the men, "We can hunt and gather nearby. Do not stray too far from the boat, we cannot afford to lose anyone. Not now."

~~•~~

No one finds so much as a bird on the island, though many of the men bring back berries and such, and well, they cannot afford to be picky.

Polites quite likes having a tent again, despite how small it is, and how drafty, it is nice having his own space. It is nice to pretend he is back at Troy again, because despite how utterly terrifying that was, it was simple. They were fighting other men, and had one goal in mind. They always had shelter and food and an odd stability that they do not possess anymore.

He is sat at the entrance to his tent, watching the men sit around on the beach, one by one disappearing into their own tents to sleep, when Perimedes comes and sits beside him.

"Polites." He says quietly.

Polites acknowledges him, shifting a little to let the other sit down beside him, "Perimedes."

"As beautiful as this island is-" Perimedes starts, "We cannot stay here. We cannot live off of the meagre amounts of berries that we have been finding."

"I do not plan to let us stay." Polites explains, "But it is good to be able to rest and to stock up on any food we can find. We are starving and exhausted. Besides, you saw the way the forest seemed to have tracks throughout it."

"You think there are animals here?" Perimedes asks.

Polites nods, "Some of the others noticed it too. The signs of life. Apparently one of them saw something golden glinting in the dying sunlight earlier, off on another side of the island."

"That's good news." The other man grins, "We can take a party down there tomorrow morning then."

"Yep." Polites meets Perimedes' smile, "We will hopefully get to eat some proper food for once."

~~•~~

Polites stares at the herd of cows. Frankly, they're beautiful. Long shaggy coats that look carefully groomed and golden horns that coil up into natural crowns.

They also look well loved.

"That's what i saw!" One of the men shouts, pointing across the fields at the huge golden statue that resides there, watching over its herds.

The sun god, Helios. Polites wonders briefly if these are his cows.

"We can take one back to camp." He announces, his hunger overriding any sense of foreboding he may have felt otherwise, "Send your thanks to the gods, we owe them for this meal."

~~•~~

The scene that greets them when they get back to camp- cow in tow- is unexpected, to say the least.

Odysseus is awake, and freaking out, "Polites!" He yells from where two of the others had grabbed him, "Polites, where have you brought us?" His wide, panicked eyes flick to the cow.

"Some island, the first one we found." Polites tells him. He did not bring them anywhere, "It's bursting with cows just roaming around, and hunger is so heavy."

The men start to mutter amongst themselves when Odysseus protests against killing the cow. The general message is that hunger is so heavy, as Polites had said.

"Polites, don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do!" Odysseus snaps, "You'll only get us all killed! Is that what you want? A repeat of the cyclops?"

Polites hesitates. He hesistates, searching Odysseus' angry gaze for anything at all that might show he does not mean that.

For anything that suggests that it wasn't actually Polites' fault. That he doesn't have their blood on his hands. He doesn't find what he is searching for though, and he cannot have anyone else's blood on his hands in this crew-

But all the other men- they're all starving. Everyone is starving, and not killing the cow would be a death wish. At least like this they have a shot at survival.

The flames of those who've gone And our comrades will not die in vain

The sun god might understand. The sun god might not slaughter them all for merely surviving.

"Odysseus, we're never gonna get to make it home if we don't do this." Polites says, not letting his voice waver. The men fall silent to let him speak, though if he had agreed with Odysseus he doubts they'd have followed his orders, "You know it's true."

This way they have a chance. And their hunger is so very overwhelming. The men need to eat.

They need to survive the present in order to think about the future and their return to Ithaca.

Odysseus doesn't seem to understand that. He lives in the future with Penelope.

And our comrades will not die in vain

This is the second part of me realising how much actually happens in mutiny.

@acpola01 hii

#epic the musical #epic polites #epic perimedes #epic odysseus #strangler fig au #epic the musical au #my writing #Dont worry guys they get a happy ending #i said that before and then never actually wrote said happy ending for another au #Ill do that eventually #anyways #fare thee well

2 notes · View notes

obsidiancreates · 2 years ago

Text

Gray Area (Remastered 4 years later)

(I originally wrote Gray Area in June of 2019 when I was but a little 15 year old, and figured well, why not remaster it for Good Omens Season 2? If you're unfamiliar with the original fic, it's an AU where the two never swapped places at the end of Season 1 and their punishments result in the discovery that they're truly On Their Own Side. Figured it'd be a nice little Balm on the fandom right now, heh.)

———————————————————————————————————–

It should be a happy occasion.

The Earth is safe. Adam renounced his powers, his no-longer-father, his role in the Apocalypse. The Plan was halted. The humans were all free to go about their lives, continuing on as if nothing happened, because as far as most of them knew nothing had. As a good, selfless, caring angel, Aziraphale should be happy.

Instead, he's using all of his self-control to keep from falling apart.

He knew there'd be punishment. They both knew. But somehow, it had escaped his realization that their punishments would part himself and Crowley. It's not as if he's unused to them being parted, but...

But he has a feeling that this time, they may not return to each other. For the first time in six thousand years, he truly feels... their last moments together have come and gone.

Even as these feelings twist and gnaw inside of him, he keeps his head held high. He won't allow Gabriel and the others to have the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart. He has no regrets about saving the earth, and he will make that clear to them.

He's sure Crowley is doing the same- in his own way, of course. But the sentiment is probably the same, or at least quite similar.

He does hope they haven't tied Crowley to the same kind of chair, though. His own is terribly uncomfortable. The chairs in Heaven always are. It's plain, it's stark-white, it's all angles, and just from sitting on it he can tell it's some kind of hollow design made to make him feel unsupported. Alone. Abandoned.

All it makes him feel is an aching wish for his bookshop and it's comfortable seats.

The room is much like the chair. White, empty, uncomfortable. Heaven is consistent, if not pleasant. Perhaps it should bother him, how the bright light of the empty room sears into his eyes, too bright, too blazing. The light of Heaven, of the Almighty herself, causing an Angel discomfort to gaze upon.

But he's never liked this light, not since he discovered other forms of it. He prefers warm, soft lighting, filtered in through dusty windows or cast by a flickering candle.

Maybe he's not a proper angel, then. The thought twists him up inside even more, scraping away in his chest. Why isn't he? Aren't angels meant to care, to heal, to spread good wherever they go? Aren't they meant to protect, to watch over, to love?

If doing so make him an improper angel... well, perhaps that's for the best. Even if the idea still feels wrong.

... A proper angel probably wouldn't care so deeply for a demon, either.

Crowley. Aziraphale is sure he himself it to be killed for his actions. He knows Crowley was sure he'd be facing the same. How is still a mystery. These are to be their last moments, their final thoughts, their final sights.

With this realization, the light becomes upsetting for a new reason.

He's facing his final moments, and instead of his beloved bookshop or dearest friend, companion, the one being who truly knew and understood him-

Instead of anything Aziraphale was fond of, the final thing he'll see is some overexposed angels smirking at him.

———————————————————————————————————–

It was never going to be a truly happy occasion.

He'd known it from the moment he'd been given the baby. That even if he and Aziraphale stopped The Apocalypse, someone would be held responsible. And then things got more complicated, and they had to become more direct, and many humans got involved-

And now Crowley stands in a dark, dingy room, the sound of flickering half-dead fluorescents mixing with the sound of Beelzebub's flies, the murmur of hundreds of demons pressed into the small viewing space behind a window as Crowley stands before the demons just waiting for his demise.

He ignores the smell, the damp moldy musk mixing with rot of all kinds both earthly and not. If he's to die, truly and completely, he'll at least try to ruin the moment for the rest of them.

He hopes Aziraphale is doing the same, up above. He must be. He's enough of a bastard to, deep down, and if there's ever a moment to allow that to shine through it's now.

And so Crowley smirks, just a bit, just enough to see Hastur's mouth twitch into a scowl (well, a deeper scowl).

"Nice place here. Bit bare, though." Crowley looks around. "And Angel said I was minimalist."

"We built this place for you specially," Beelzebub says. "It shall be your of trial, and it shall be your place of destruction."

"Not much of a trial," Crowley mutters. Not that he's surprised. "What'll it be, then? An eternity in the deepest pit?"

He knows it won't be. They're all far too excited for it to be as simple as that.

Hastur all but confirms it with the cruelly gleeful grin that makes it's way onto his face. He's relishing in this, the sheer enjoyment just oozing from him. It's so potent that Crowley finds himself leaning away a bit, trying to physically escape the way it seems to seep from Hastur's very being.

"No, no. We're going to do something even worse. Letting the punishment fit the crime."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? What kind of punishment fits his crime? They didn't plan for someone stopping the Apocalypse, and even if they did they couldn't have planned for how it was stopped.

And then Crowley hears footsteps.

They're coming from the single tight hallway he'd been lead down mere moments ago. They're quick, purposeful, and the shoes sound far too nice to be in Hell. For all the purpose in the sound of the stride, though, there's something that can't be hidden. The steps are quick not just in a way that says Efficiency, but in a way that screams discomfort.

It's almost intriguing, really. Crowley turns to look at the entrance to his trial room.

And watches Archangel Micheal step through.

"Well, that's unlikely." The words spring forth from his mouth before he even knows they're coming.

And his eyes flick down to something in Micheal's hands.

A pitcher.

Holy water. So that's what Hastur means. It must've been his idea.

Crowley is to die by holy water, his transgression so great not only in Hell's eyes, but Heaven's as well. It's unsurprising, truly, but as he watches Micheal step closer to the bathtub he'd really thought was just a sign they'd hastily redecorated a bathroom something dawns on him.

Heaven and Hell are working together on his punishment. Which means it's possible that they're working together for...

“What have you done with Aziraphale?” The words are seethed, but desperate. He knows, and yet he can't help himself.

And he hears Beelzebub laugh. “You two seemed so desperate not to live without each other-”

“-That we decided to do you both a favor and ensure you don't have to,” Micheal interrupts. They look at Crowley with a cruel glint in their eye. "Call it mercy."

“And we thought it would kill you to know your little lover boy was going to die because of you,” Beelzebub adds. Honesty, more honest than the angel, but not because it's right, because it's painful.

Crowley watches Micheal fill the tub with holy water, and only one thought runs through his mind.

Aziraphale is up there, alone, and going to die.

Aziraphale is going to die.

———————————————————————————————————-

“Ah, Aziraphale.” Gabriel’s voice booms out from behind. He strides into Aziraphale's eyeline, taking his place between and slightly in front of Uriel and Sandalphon. Aziraphale does his best not to glare, because if he's going to die then he's going to die with dignity. These angel think him wrong for finding Earth, humans, and so much more worth saving. They think him a bad angel for it.

He won't allow them the pleasure of anything they may take as evidence they're right.

... Of course, pointing out some ineffective choices in their retrieval of him is only... right, to do. Helpful, even. As a good angel is.

So Aziraphale looks Gabriel in the eye and says, “You could have just sent a message. A kidnapping, in broad daylight?”

He can almost feel Crowley's approval, hear the proud insistence that Aziraphale is a bastard deep down. Perhaps, if he keeps this up, he'll be able to visualize Crowley again before he's executed.

But Gabriel doesn't react. He just turns to Uriel and asks, "Have we heard from our new associate?"

"He's on his way."

Gabriel grins, a bright souless grin that fits all too perfectly with the room around them. "He's on his way." He looks at Aziraphale, even crouches a bit, getting close. "I bet you're going to like this. I really do! And I bet, you didn't see this one coming."

If he hadn't before, he does now. The glee, the bragging, the sheer arrogant nature of it all.

Hellfire. They've gotten ahold of hellfire.

And if they've gotten ahold of hellfire...

Micheal is absent from this.

Aziraphale's heart drops. Crowley.

An exchange. He and Crowley worked together to save the world, angel and demon on the same team. Now Heaven and Hell copy them, angels and demons, to kill them both.

“You don’t get this view down in the basement!” a voice calls out. A demon walks, walks over. Simply steps on the grounds of Heaven, unharmed, given special privileges. A demon allowed into Heaven to kill and angel just for love.

The demon throws his hands out. Hellfire shoots out from them, hitting a small circle on the floor and bursting into a great blaze! The fire shoots up and twists, curls, forming a tornado of demonic flames in the middle of Heaven itself. Aziraphale can feel the heat from where he sits, so close he could swear his hair begins to singe.

Gabriel stands a safe distance away. "So, with one act of treason, you avoided the war. You ruined our entire plan, everything we've worked for, for six thousand years."

Gabriel is doing a much poorer job of keeping his anger in check than Aziraphale is his own emotions. Perhaps he's just less used to them. Perhaps he just doesn't care.

Aziraphale knows what he says next could push Gabriel over the edge. But he's about to die anyway, and it needs to be said. "Well, I think the greater good-"

“Don’t talk to me about the greater good sunshine, I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel!”

“We’re meant to be the good guys, for heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale lets his desperation, his disgust, his disappointment pour out with the words.

“Well, for Heaven’s sake, we’re meant to make examples out of traitors. So, into the flame.”

The ropes tying him to the chair fall.

Aziraphale stands.

He'd never be ale to make a run for it, and they know it. He'd be caught, brought back, and they'd get a little laugh, a bit of spectacle. They won't be getting it from him.

He straightens his bowtie. He tries not to think about Crowley, down in the dank, dark puts of Hell, likely facing down an execution by holy water, mocked and tormented as he's pushed or prodded into a deadly vat of something meant to be pure, to be clarifying, renewing.

Humans are so hopeful. They believe in such beautiful things. Aziraphale envys them for the countless, and perhaps final, time.

He swallows. "Well... lovely knowing you all. May we... meet on a better occasion." He gives them a slight smile.

"Shut your stupid mouth, and die already." Gabriel return the smile with no remorse, no reflection. Just emptiness for show.

Aziraphale's smile falls away.

He looks into the fire.

May we meet on a better occasion, Crowley.

He closes his eyes and steps into the flames.

———————————————————————————————————-

Micheal could have simply Miracle'd the bathtub full. But they're here for the spectacle of it, he's sure. The Snake Of The Garden OF Eden, the one who caused the Original Sin and Hell's greatest disappointment, and now the reason an angel is allowed into Hell just for an execution.

He's not sure who they've sent up to hell. He wants to grab Micheal, to demand they take him there, to snatch Aziraphale away (if he's even still in the universe) and take them both as far away as possible.

But he can't. Instead, he stands, watching the tub slowly fill, hearing Micheal assure the water is the holiest it can be, watching Hastur test the claim for the whole crowd to see with a demon who stood in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Micheal leaves. Crowley imagines whoever went up to Heaven will want to stay and watch. Maybe Micheal wants to stay and watch as well, but can't stand the sight and smell of Hell anymore. It's a cruel thing to subject anyone too, and crueler still to make someone have their final moments in.

Cruelty is Hell's specialty, after all. But Crowley thinks Micheal would fit right in if it weren't for that blindingly white outfit. That's all that separates them from the demons watching Crowley now, really.

Beelzebub looks almost bored as they lean on their shoddy throne. "Demon Crowley, I sentence you to extinction by holy water. Have you anything to say?"

He has a lot to say. Most of it cussing them out, some of it shaming, some of it just insults he's held back for thousands of years just to keep himself off their radar. But none of that will be satisfying now.

None of it matters.

His Angel is up there, facing down the same thing he is. Putting on a brave, probably irritatingly polite face, if he's feeling the same sense of Meaninglessness that Crowley is now.

So he takes a deep breath. He thinks of Aziraphale, so he can enjoy his last moments. He hopes his Angel is giving Heaven a rough time, at least somewhat.

"This is a new jacket," Crowley ends up saying, really just to have something to say. "And I'd hate to ruin it."

They let him take it off, and his pants, and his shoes. He keeps on his undergarments and his socks, and stares down into the water. After a moment, he takes off his glasses too.

This is it.

This is the end.

He's heard humans have their loves flash before their eyes. He wouldn't mind if he experienced that now. As long as it's mostly the times he spent with his Angel.

"Go on already," Beelzebub says, still sounding bored. "Or I'll have Hastur push you in."

You were more than enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, Crowley thinks.

And he gets in.

———————————————————————————————————-

Agony.

Agony, burning, excruciating pain. The feeling of every atom of one's being, burning, being destroyed, destroyed so totally and so completely that barely even a memory remains.

Aziraphale had expected stepping into Hellfire to be all of that and worse.

... Yet, instead, it feels rather like... a sauna.

A badly managed sauna, one that's a bit too hot to be truly relaxing and instead tips into unpleasant, but nonetheless no more than a sauna. It's so close to being nice, in fact, that he cracks his neck and allows himself to imagine that's what it is for a moment, sighing.

When it's more than a couple of seconds, he opens his eyes, a bit surprised to find he still has eyes to open. He can't complain about it, though. They open to the wickedly amusing sight of Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon all staring, and gaping.

And all quite a bit further away than when he'd initially stepped in.

He smiles at them. They step back further.

Gabriel holds up a shaking hand, pointing in disbelief. "It... may be worse than we thought."

Aziraphale shifts his shoulders, his wings feeling especially warm, even stinging now. He shifts them again, trying to stretch them, bringing them in so he can get a look at the damage-

Damaged, perhaps.

But not ruined.

His wings smolder at the tips, the feathers smoking yet remaining whole. The Hellfire licks at his feathers, singeing them, burning, and yet seemingly unable to consume them. The smoke seems to almost stain them, and yet staining is the worst he can see.

In fact, it's not even that bad. The white of his wings is gone. The outermost tips continue to smolder and darken, yet never growing darker than the smoke itself, never fully blackening. Higher up the feathers are a soft, delicate gray, the kind of gray he might chose for a pillow to put in Crowley's favorite chair in the bookshop. And between the two it's a gradient, a gradual shift from one to the other.

He stares for a long, long moment. They're so different now. So un- angelic.

And yet... he rather likes them.

And as it dawns on him that he's not dying, not in the least, and that he might even be able to stand in this hellfire for hours and continue to live, well-

Well, if he's okay-

Aziraphale looks up, and beams. "It seems that The Almighty has other ideas for me." Perhaps untrue, perhaps truer than he believes, and he'll truly never know, but that doesn't matter. The angels staring at him in horror likely believe it, and that's good enough. "I was feeling a bit chilly in here, it's much colder than I remembered it being, so thank you. For the fire."

The only sound is that of the roaring, raging fire he still stands in the center of.

"May I... take my leave now?"

Gabriel nods, slowly, mouth parted just slightly, just enough to show his universe-rattling shock. "I think that would be best."

Aziraphale smiles at him once more and steps out of the fire, his smoke-stained wings flared around him.

"Thank you."

———————————————————————————————————-

After what he'd seen in his apartment, Crowley had expected it to be quick. Painful, searing, an agony unlike anything he'd ever felt. But still, quick.

Now he sits in the tub, all eyes on him in horror, and he can't help the way it brings him a sort of glee. He raised his arm from the water and flicks it at the window separating him from the populous of Hell, their screams of alarm and the sizzling of the unholy glass drowned out by his sharp laugh.

He's fine.

His skin is a bit red, irritated, like a sunburn or a heat-rash. But those are minor, minor, as he sits in the tub of holy water and all of Hell watches him swish it around like it's nothing.

He looks over at his executioners. "I don't suppose anyone here has a rubber duck?"

Hastur is practically cowering behind Beelzebub's throne, eyes wide, mouth agape in complete disbelief. Beelzebub and Dagon aren't much better off, keeping a great distance between themselves and Crowley's almost carefree splashing and flicking. Crowley is not as cruel as the other demons, not by a long shot, but that doesn't mean he's not enjoying the show as he flicks water at the window once more.

"He's not one of us, anymore." Beelzebub can't hide the tremor in their voice.

Crowley lifts his wings out of the tub in the grandest splash yet, making the demons in the room with him shout out and back up as far as possible! He allows himself a little smile, a little smirk, bringing his wings back down to cradle him so they can fit in the tub-

And as they come into view, his smile drops. Not out of fear, but surprise.

His wings are different.

The deepest black of Hell is gone. He holds the tip of one wing closer to examine it. It's hard to tell the exact shade in the dim lighting of the room, but he knows, without a doubt, that his feathers are now gray.

A dark gray, a gray like a stormcloud rolling in from the seaside, but gray all the same. And there the holy water gathers and rolls down, droplets of it making their way off of his wings and back into the tub, they leave behind streaks of even lighter grays in their wake. Some streaks are only slightly lighter in color, while others are nearly white (but not white, not truly), and more than that are streaks of an almost silver shade, glistening and glimmering, perhaps from the water, perhaps from something else.

Hastur makes a sound like he's choking on a scream. Beelzebub seizes the moment of Crowley's distraction to rush to the window.

"What are you looking at! Nothing to see here, nothing to see!"

They shoo the crowd of demons away, keeping one eye on Crowley at all times. He's done splashing, now. He looking into the water, still as clear as ever. Not a drop of discoloration, as though he wasn't even sitting within it.

A demon sitting in holy water, unharmed. Though perhaps, not a demon. Not anymore.

And if a demon can survive a bath of holy water and come out as the same, yet something else...

Perhaps an angel can survive a bath of Hellfire in the very same way.

"I've come for the- oh, Lord." Micheal freezes in the mouth of the hallway.

Crowley turns to look at them, grinning, newly washed wings sloshing the water out of the tub and making Beelzebub scream and scramble further away. "Micheal! Miracle me up a bath towel, would you?"

"I-I don't- how are you-"

"Oh, it's been a wonderful bath," Crowley says, grinning in a way that's sharp, satisfied, the last word nearly a hiss. "But I think I'm done now."

Micheal, still in shock, does hand over a bath towel. It's pure white, fluffed in the way only a brand-new bath towel can be. As Crowley reaches out to grab it and splashes even more water onto the now ever-sizzling ground, she instinctively jumps away.

He still manages to grab the towel.

"I think," he says, standing, letting the water run harmlessly off of him, "That it would be best if I was left alone for a while."

All who remain, demon and angel alike, nod silently.

Crowley gets out, dries off, and tosses his towel towards the cluster of demons huddled at the farthest back corner of the room, and saunters out with his clothes and a quick sharp smile at Micheal.

And as soon as he's far enough away, he rushes back to Earth.

———————————————————————————————————-

Aziraphale takes a moment to lean against the door of his shop once he's inside. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, sliding down to the floor.

With a quick miracle (how he's still capable of them, who is allowing them, he as no idea anymore) the door locks and the window curtains shut.

Alone, in the privacy of his shop, his home, he brings out his wings to look at in light he knows.

They're...

They're beautiful. Truly, beautiful. The darkened edges, the smoothness of the gradient, the lightest feathers at the highest point being so pale but still so clearly gray, not a bit of white to be seen yet not a bit of black either, so blended. They gleam as light hits them, shining almost like silver, but without direct light they look soft, simple, and they seem to match his bookshop now in a way they hadn't before.

They are also not, the wings of an angel.

But they aren't the winds of a demon, either.

They're something Different entirely, and... he quite likes that about them. More than he expected to.

And if he's right...

He stands and quickly moves to the phone, still shaking ever so slightly as he picks up the handset of his phone and begins to dial Crowley's number, and shaking worse with each number added.

If he's wrong, if Crowley hadn't-

If he's alone now-

He takes another steadying breath. He can't allow himself to think like that, not yet.

He's just one number away from making the call when the door opens, the bell ringing. Only a miracle could unlock it, and Aziraphale's heart soars as a familiar, cherished voice calls out.

"Angel!"

He drops the phone and runs, runs back into the main room. "Crowley!"

And before he knows it, he has the demon- or perhaps not demon- in a hug.

They don't really do this. And Crowley is stiff in the hug at first, frozen, unresponsive.

But after a moment, he hugs back. He's a bit boney, but doesn't matter because he's here. And though they don't really do this, they do now, just holding each other in the entrance of the bookshop for a long, long time.

When they finally pull apart, it's gentle, and they still hold onto each other's arms.

"Angel," Crowley breathes. He reaches up with one hand to remove his glasses, looking Aziraphale in the eyes as he lowers his hand right back to be held and to hold. "I um, I'm... I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, my dear." Aziraphale's smile is soft, but joyful, and so full of relief and care and love-

"I'm glad you are, too."

They hold each other's stares for another long moment, until Crowley's eyes flick to behind Aziraphale, and the latter realizes he still has his wings out to see. Suddenly Aziraphale feels a panic, almost a shame, as Crowley's expression is unreadable as he takes in Aziraphale's changed wings.

"Ah, yes!" Aziraphale quickly pulls his wings in close to his body. "It ah, it seems the Hellfire had a bit of a... side, effect?" He still can't quite read Crowley's expression. It's relief, shock, perhaps... perhaps a bit sad? No, not sad, but something... something. Something he's not used to seeing. He clears his throat. "I-I quite like them, truthfully." Though the longer this goes on, the less he's sure he does.

Until Crowley nods. "I do too, actually." He meets Aziraphale's eyes again, and one of those small, almost withheld smiles makes it's way onto his face. "And what do you think of mine?"

Crowley's wings unfurl, and Aziraphale gasps. Softly, with awe. If his won wings are beautiful, than Crowley's are gorgeous. They're a dark stunning and almost glimmering dark gray, not unliek the scarf Crowley likes to wear, with streaks of varying shades of lighter gray all throughout. And yet, as the shades vary within his wings, Aziraphale realizes with a bit of something... unknowable, but enjoyable, that the shades in Crowley's wings match the shades in Aziraphale's exactly.

"They're... amazing," he breathes. He looks back into Crowley's eyes, knowing he's probably making the most ridiculus face in his elation, but he doesn't care. "Do you think- well, do you think this is because we're on our own side now? And-and perhaps, She may have had something to do with this?"

"Who knows, Angel? Who care? We're not apart of all that anymore. We can do anything we want now, anything in the world, without worrying about anyone watching us!"

Aziraphale takes in the look on Crowley's face, the freedom, the excitement, and he feels the same feelings in his own heart. "Anything," he repeats. "How about we start... with lunch? At the Ritz?"

And Crowley smiles back, putting his sunglasses back on. "Lunch it is."

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #my attempts at fanfic #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #fanfic

35 notes · View notes

jjkeremika · 1 year ago

Text

all or (Formula) n(One)

chapter five: Australia Grand Prix

ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4

description: “Now there’s that scarlet Ferrari! Car number 139 with the special insignia handwritten on display. A MKA that says, ‘this car is ready to race.’”

“Not just to race, Martin, but to win. To rebuild a car to that standard—to be so confident that it’s at least as good as previous with so little time…”

“Honestly, Alex, some races it just makes me wonder if maybe the signature is more of a good luck cast than a proper sign off.”

tag/disclaimer(s): written as camera angles and commentary between F1 radio hosts (Alex, Martin, guest Julian); eremika (Ferrari racer! eren jaeger x engineer/mechanic! mikasa ackerman); friends to lovers; formula one au

*Race day; Australia Grand Prix*

“It’s a beautiful day in Melbourne at Albert Park, home for the 2024 Australia Grand Prix. I’m Alex. I’m here with Martin and, today, we are joined by Julian, a former tech and analyst.”

“Julian, thanks for joining us today. Really excited to have a deeper analysis of the cars based on your experience.”

“Thanks so much for having me, Alex and Martin. Thrilled to be here and I already know we’ll have much to discuss during today’s race as both the McLaren and Ferrari are back in service this weekend after a full week of repairs.”

*camera follows Zeke as he walks around the McLaren garage.*

“There is Zeke Jaeger now, walking over to that repaired chassis.”

“I get a thrill whenever I see him, Martin! A top driver who was dropped after a great season, one who fully believed he would have to retire early due to the lack of a seat. Look at him now in that orange jumpsuit.”

*Camera follows Zeke as he walks around the orange chassis, talks to some McLaren engineers*

“It’s hard to believe he’s not counting down the number of races he has until Flock is set to return. I mean, you can just see that he is feeling the pressure to perform to keep that seat. Especially after the last racing weekend.”

“Well,” Martin laughs, “McLaren might have to make a decision on which driver they’d rather seat.”

Alex chuckles, “My money’s on the Jaeger brothers staying in those vibrant cars for this season.”

*camera shows Eren Jaeger in the Ferrari red jumpsuit wandering the paddock, talking to Mikasa and some other mechanics.*

*zooms in on Eren and Mikasa laughing, looking at each other. Eren instinctively leans closer to her.*

“That all depends on how they operate. Now, Julian, based on your expertise, do you think these cars will be running smoothly this weekend after that significant crash?”

“It’s hard to say, Martin, you’d really have to see the data on how the cars performed during testing. But based on those Ferrari sprint and qualifying results on Saturday, it’s really hard to believe that MKA Ferrari is not in racing condition.”

*camera zooms in on Eren as Mikasa helps him don the headgear and helmet. Eren’s talking to her. She’s chuckling. inaudible*

“Quite amazing, really, how Ferrari managed to repair the car like nothing even happened in such a tight deadline.”

“Well, the rumor in the paddock is that Mikasa spent days and nights in the garage with Eren on the car.”

“She must’ve signed the chassis one of those nights. Look at that signature.”

*camera follows as Eren starts to climb into the driver’s seat. Camera panel includes the MKA in black ink on the bright red chassis*

“Really gets me excited just seeing it,” Julian chimes in. “It’s almost like a good omen that Eren’s about to have a good time on that track.”

“I bet all drivers out there are jealous, honestly!” Martin continues. “As a former driver, it feels like a sign of a stable, fast car that really lets them express themselves out there.”

“Ferrari must be feeling confident today. Let’s hope it translates into a great race result after yesterday’s epic comeback in qualifying, where we saw Eren Jaeger pushing that repaired chassis all the way to a top grid place of third.”

*Camera pans over Eren who waves to the crowd from inside the car. Crowd cheers*

“Can’t forget, Martin, that that grid place might move up a slot depending on race control’s decision about Ackerman’s potentially illegal move yesterday.”

*camera zooms in on Levi Ackerman gearing up and walking towards his car*

“Right you are, Alex! Yesterday we saw Levi Ackerman beat his teammate and former two-time championship winner Reiner Braun in qualifying—achieving first pole position in qualifying for the fiftieth time in his career—but only after what appeared to be manufacturing a racing start from the very end of the pit lane.”

“Ah, yes, that did seem like an interesting move from the experienced driver,” Julian mentioned. “From past qualifying’s we’ve seen a grid penalty of up to ten seconds issued for similar instances—if that the stewards decide it’s a worthy act to punish before the race.”

*camera settles on Reiner Braun in the Redbull seat. Crowd cheers*

“Listen to that crowd as the camera shows our Formula One world champion Reiner Braun. Two years in a row. Starting in second position for the first time this year.”

“Still a great spot to be in, on that front row. And if Ackerman is penalized before the start of the race, he’ll be back on pole position in no time.”

*grid line up starts to show alongside live view of drivers getting ready in their cars. lining up for the formation lap*

“As we gear up for the formation lap, let’s review the grid order. For our top two, as mentioned, we have yet another Redbull 1-2, but with Levi Ackerman in leading pole position and Braun in second.”

“In third we have the youngest Ferrari driver Eren Jaeger, who was DNF last race. Definitely gearing to win some massive points in today’s race.”

“Right beside him and locking out that second row in fourth is his teammate, Porco Galliard, in the second Ferrari.”

“But he better be prepared to defend because that’s Erwin Smith in the McLaren chasing his position in fifth. Only half a millisecond ahead of Jean Kirstein in the Mercedes, who sped his way into sixth place.”

“Quite the buffer between the Jaeger brothers this time with Zeke Jaeger in seventh, proudly sporting that McLaren right behind his old teammate.”

*cars pull into their starting positions following the formation lap. the lights turn on in ascending order*

“With still no word from the stewards, it seems we will see Levi Ackerman leading this race!”

*lights turn off. cars start towards the first corner*

“What a brilliant start from Eren Jaeger in the MKA Ferrari! forcing his way into the leading row around the outside as the Redbulls approach the first corner,” Martin exclaims.

*Braun overtakes Ackerman around the inside and manages into the lead. Virtually simultaneously, Jaeger overtakes Ackerman around the outside and cuts right between the two Redbulls*

“Braun hugs the inner rim as they round the first corner and just barely manages to stick his nose in front of his teammate. Just barely keeps that lead around the second corner.”

Alex chortles in amusement. “And while Ackerman was busy focusing on the two-time world champion, Jaeger cut around the outside, found the inner corner and cut in front!”

“And we are also hearing from race control right now that Ackerman will serve a 15 second penalty for a fake start during the qualifying yesterday.”

“We are seeing Reiner Braun set the race pace, a usual sight to see—“

“But Jaeger is awfully close to that Redbull. Only a 0.1 second gap, Martin.”

“A damaged car has got to be even more careful breathing dirty air. Look at how that Jaeger is avoiding driving directly in the exhaust of that Redbull,” Julian comments. “That’s a driver who understands how the car will work.”

*drones follow the Redbull lead and chasing Ferrari. the ferrari car is close behind, but slightly to the side of the navy blue car.*

*camera flashes to Ferrari team watching the race from the garage. Focuses on Mikasa watching intently*

*returns to the live drone view of the Redbull and Ferrari cars. The redbull manages to stay ahead in each turn. About to enter lap 2*

“DRS is now enabled. Will Jaeger finally be able to take that pole position?”

“Braun had a bit of a lock up going into turn 13. Jaeger took the opportunity to push on that throttle into the inner lane.”

“Coming out of turn 13, they’re wheel to wheel! Jaeger manages to keep the inside and you’re watching Ferrari take the lead of the Australian Grand Prix! Eren Jaeger! First opportunity offered up. first opportunity taken. and the man who didn’t finish the last Grand Prix leads this weekend.”

“I mean look at the way that Ferrari just speeds right on by that Redbull, turns at the apex and without even needing DRS on the getaway—but taking it anyway!”

#eren jaeger #eremika #eren x mikasa #mikasa ackerman #jjkeremika #formula one au #attack on titan eremika

5 notes · View notes

keicordelle · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 3 of A First for Everything, for your reading pleasure. I wanted to write a chapter where Thancred and Urianger sit together under the stars -- and then I remembered there are no bloody stars and comfy nighttime conversations beneath the ceaseless glare of the Light on the first. That's alright, they'll just have to make it themselves.

Read the whole thing on Ao3 with the link above, or check out the first chapter on Tumblr here.

The ever-burning glare of the Light overhead made it hard to keep track of time, but the yawn that split Thancred’s jaw as he made his way back to Urianger's abode informed him that it was well past the time any reasonable person would be in bed. He stifled it with the back of his hand, along with the all-too familiar longing for a blanket of night overhead instead of this infernal brightness. Though at least it meant he wasn't at risk of tripping over roots and environmental hazards hidden in the darkness. Nope, it was just the actually-invisible pixies he had to worry about.

Of course, another patrol where he found nothing but fey to disturb the peace was far from a bad thing, even if it did make for a rather dull venture. It seemed Ran’jit's forces had lost their trail. That was good - beyond the simple fact that it made for much more comfortable circumstances, the last thing he wanted was to bring the might of Eulmore down on Urianger's head. That would be a poor way to repay his hospitality, and a poorer way to thank an old friend. They'd have to leave again before too much longer, lest their enemies catch wind of their presence. But for now... Urianger was right, it would do some good for Minfilia to have a proper bed for a while, and some decent food in her belly. And Thancred had to admit he relished the chance to spend more time with Urianger.

He still couldn't get over how much Urianger had changed since he'd last seen him. Well, maybe that wasn't quite right. He was, by and large, the same man Thancred had always known. He was still the dorky, history loving erudite he'd always been, speaking in his archaic tongues that practically needed a dictionary to be understood and devoting himself to his dusty old books with a fervor found only among the Sharlayans. He looked different, that was for certain (and damned if Thancred couldn't stop his eyes from straying every time he was in the same room with him), but inside he was pretty well unchanged.

Perhaps... Maybe it was just that Thancred was noticing things he had never noticed before. Like the way Urianger pillowed his head on his arms after he'd stayed up so late researching that he physically couldn't hold his eyes open any longer. Or the way his eyes shone in the light, little flecks of brown mingled in the gold that you could only see from certain angles. Or the subtle snort to his laugh when you startled him out of his composure. It was so incredibly endearing, all of it. How had he never noticed before?

The door handle turned easily in Thancred’s grip when he twisted it, the ancient wood parting smoothly to allow him back into the bowels of Urianger's home. Unlocked, again. No matter how many times Thancred reminded him to bar the door against potential threats, especially when he was asleep and vulnerable, it never seemed to penetrate through the dusty books and ancient languages that filled his head instead. Of course, Thancred’s hand hadn't even reached for the lock before trying the door either; a scant few days together, and already Urianger’s habits had imprinted themselves on his mind until he could anticipate how he would move and act. It was almost startling how easily they’d fallen into a rhythm together, adapting to each other's presence without the awkwardness Thancred had expected when he dumped himself and Minfilia onto Urianger’s doorstep. Or, well, not as much, anyway.

The interior was dark as he stepped in and locked the door behind him, or at least as dark as you could make it. Light burned around the edges of heavy drapes and wooden shutters, but the comfortable twilight of the room could almost convince him that night really had fallen and that the moon and stars shine brightly overhead outside. Only a flickering candle lit the midnight stillness within, melted wax pooling around its base as it burned itself low. A familiar figure sat beside it, the soft glow of the flame turning his grey hair to shining brass and glinting off the golden collar that banded his neck. Twelve preserve me, but he was beautiful like that, his golden eyes turned molten by the light as they lifted from the book in his hand to meet Thancred’s. Steam curled from the teapot on the table before him, filling the air with the soothing scent of chamomile and crisp apple, a half-drunk cup cooling by his elbow. The quiet smile that curved his lips as their eyes met spread warmth through Thancred’s chest better than any tea could. It didn't seem to matter how many times he'd seen Urianger turn that smile on him on the past few days, no amount of morning greetings or 'welcome back's lessened its potency.

Hoping that heat didn't show on his face, Thancred cleared his throat, wincing as the sound cut harshly through the artificial tranquility that blanketed the room. "What are you still doing up?" he asked, voice pitched low to make up for his transgression. "You weren't waiting up for me, I hope?"

"Ah, nay," Urianger answered, though the way his eyes drifted to the side made Thancred wonder. "Sleep hath eluded me once again this night. 'Twas my hope a spot of tea might hasten its arrival." The book folded around his finger suggested the futility of the attempt. A pause as Thancred shrugged out of his coat, and then, "Wouldst thou care to join me?"

Tea was not generally his drink of choice (far from it) and for all it eluded Urianger, the heavy weight of sleep gnawed at Thancred. But who was he to deny himself the pleasure of good company? "Sure," he found himself saying, lowering himself to sit on the worn couch next to Urianger.

Comfortable silence stretched between them as Urianger poured tea into a second cup Thancred hadn't noticed before, it's presence more damning than any askance look or the glittering collar that still girded his throat. Thancred accepted it from him without comment, letting the heat seep through the china to warm his fingers as he blew on the surface. Urianger settled back with his own cup, an introspective look settling over his face as he stared down into the amber liquid. Thancred held his peace, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Dost thou yearn for the return of the night?" he said finally, his voice quiet and his eyes fixed on the brilliant halo shining beneath the heavy curtain over the window.

"How could I not?" Thancred answered, following his gaze to the odious glare. "Three years of that infernal Light shining constantly overhead is enough to make anyone mad. Sometimes I think the people here are lucky, that they've never known anything else. They don't know what they're missing. They've got stories, sure, but... It's not the same."

Urianger hummed his agreement, and when Thancred looked over to him, his eyes were on Thancred, heart-rending sympathy glimmering in their aureate depths. "Of course. Often do I forget that thou hast spent a great deal more time beneath its glare than I. Thy longing for the night must far outstrip mine own."

Thancred made a noncommittal noise, sipping from his tea to give himself something to do other than stare back into Urianger's oddly mesmerizing eyes. They seemed to draw him in more than usual, compelling him to lean in and spill his heart out to him. Maybe it was just the late hour and the lack of sleep getting to him. There was something intimate and magical about sitting together late at night with a warm cup of tea in his hands. Even so far from anything he might call home, Thancred felt at peace here with him. It was a dangerous sort of feeling. One he could get used to if he wasn't careful, but he revelled in it anyway, indulging that hidden part of himself that longed for such intimacy. Just for tonight, anyway.

"I miss the sounds of the crickets," he said after a moment, the bitter taste of chamomile potent on his tongue. "That seems like such an odd thing to miss, but..."

"I understand," Urianger said, his voice rich like honey in the stillness. "Full well doth my heart yearn for the moon and the stars, for the celestial bodies suspended upon a blanket of darkness. Yet it is the analogous reminders of loss that are most bitter. The flicker of fireflies flitting in the distance. The crackle of embers as they vanish into the dusk. The chromatic canvas of the heavens as the last light of day fades. ...And the crickets, as thou sayest."

"What do you miss most?" Thancred asked quietly in the silence that followed. Anything to distract Urianger from the pensive regret that painted itself like shadows across his face. Anything to linger in this stolen moment, that he might covet for a little while longer the honeyed poetry that dripped from Urianger’s lips.

That sorrowful moue to his mouth turned contemplative, slender fingers drumming a quiet beat against the side of his teacup that nearly matched the beat of Thancred’s heart. Perhaps it mirrored his own. "There is naught that I do not miss about our home. But most of all, I miss- this. The chance to sit with a dear friend and partake of a cup of tea in good company. To speak of everything and nothing beneath the gentle succor of the moon's glow. For providing me with such an opportunity even in so distant a land and in such confounding circumstances, thou hast my thanks." His gaze caught Thancred’s and lingered, the soft smile that played across his lips flooding warmth through Thancred’s chest and over his cheeks.

'You're welcome,' seemed like far too lame a response for such sentiment. "I'm glad we've had the chance too," he said instead. The dim glow of the candlelight danced over Urianger’s face, catching in the hidden flecks of brown and amber in his eyes and spilling over the plush curve of his lips. Thancred’s eyes traced the soft bow, mesmerized by the play of the light over the delicate pink of his lip. The barest hint of a dimple graced one cheek, almost hidden beneath the tidy grey hair of his beard. The urge to run his fingers through it and see if it was really as soft as it looked rose and Thancred stifled it, lacing them tightly around his teacup to resist the temptation. "If we were back in Eorzea right now, what would you be doing?"

"Full well do I hold no illusion that my nights would be any less sleepless, though 'tis likely I would pass them alone. I would sit atop the roof to the Waking Sands and watch the turnings of the heavens overhead, the distant hum of the aetheryte resonating through the darkness and the weight of solitude like a blanket across my back." The teacup lifted to his lips, and Thancred’s eyes drifted to watch the bob of his throat over its gilded collar. "In truth, I prefer thy company to an evening spent alone," he admitted, eyes downcast. His hand left his cup to fiddle with the chains at his waist, running his fingers along the metal stars that adorned them. He stilled himself when he noticed Thancred watching, instead reaching to unclasp them from his belt and set them aside. "And what of thee?" he asked. "In what circumstances wouldst thou find thyself if thou were but returned to our home?"

Not this. He'd probably be in some seedy bar in some far-flung city, selling himself for some pivotal information to bring back home. Or maybe he'd be like Urianger, alone and lonely with a drink in hand and the weight of his failures hanging heavy over his head. But this quiet companionship? This would have been way out of his reach back home.

For all the trials and tribulations he'd faced since he’d been torn from his home, for all the fear and uncertainty that had filled these long years... Thancred wouldn't trade a second of it. Not if it meant losing this, the chance to sit by Urianger's side and enjoy tea and late-night conversation. The chance to see a side of him Thancred had never known existed, and to grow closer to this enigma of a man who, as it turned out, was not so puzzling after all. That alone made being here worth it.

Because of course Thancred’s mission was important. If he'd never been pulled to the First, he never would have been able to carry out Minfilia's wishes, to protect her legacy and work to save both this star and their own. Of course all of that was crucial and critical and worthwhile. Of course. But these quiet moments where companionship blooms and you see your friends in a way you never have before... These are the moments that give him life.

But Urianger was still waiting for his answer, and he couldn't exactly tell him all that. "I don't know," he said instead. "It's been too long, I can't even imagine. But... I'm glad to be here, with you."

"I am glad of that as well," Urianger said, his voice a quiet rumble in the dimness. His leg brushed against Thancred’s, the heat of his skin bleeding through the fabric to warm Thancred’s own flesh, and neither of them made any effort to draw away. His nearness was a comfort that eased a burden Thancred hadn't realized he'd been carrying. It was so good to be able to draw solace from a close friend in times like these, and from the quiet sigh that escaped him, it seemed Urianger was just as soothed by Thancred’s presence as Thancred felt by his.

So they sat together in companionable silence as the candle burned itself down, the flickering flame casting deep shadows over Urianger's face. And when his eyes drifted closed and his head lolled to lean on Thancred’s shoulder, slumber carrying him off at last, Thancred rested his cheek in Urianger’s hair and let his own eyes fall shut. With Urianger pressed against him and his quiet breathing in his ear, he slept more peacefully than he had since before he'd arrived on the First. A crook in his neck and stiffness in his joints come the morn was a small price to pay for such comfort.

[Chapter 4] | [Masterlist]

#ffxiv #thanuri #urithan #thancred #thancred waters #urianger #urianger augurelt #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #first for everything #~K

6 notes · View notes

boygiwrites · 2 years ago

Text

The Boogeyman's Daughter P.2

• John Wick & Daughter.

• Two Part Mini Story. (Here’s P.1)

Summary — When a fatal mistake is made during a mission, a secret is revealed. The Boogeyman has a daughter.

Notes — Due to some requests to extend the previous chapter, which I was super happy to recieve, I give you a second part!

The elevator dings.

John Wick steps inside. Rainwater leaks endlessly from his ruined suit, all over the polished tiles. Not even the two taxis he caught had saved him from the rain tonight. In the offensively white light of the elevator, he looks like a brooding tower of death, but he contains himself sufficiently. A storm brews beneath his tense brows. His eyes are black as night, curtained by his wet hair. He's a thinly veiled nightmare. John presses the button for the highest level of the Continental Hotel, and the walls begin to hum pleasantly as they ascend. In the mirror, where John's steely reflection is posed ominously, he glares at an awkward little business man trembling in the corner. The man clutches his briefcase like a teddy bear.

John has blinders on. There is one place he needs to go. He needs it like he needs oxygen to breathe. Nothing ever quite feels right within his body while he's away, and after what just happened, it feels ready to collapse without its heart. It's only been ten minutes since he fled from the Hudson River, but he's overwhelmed with the sense that something is coming. Something is wrong.

He wishes he could say he trusts Marcus, but in this corner of the world, secrets are no better than the men that carry them — They bleed.

He should have killed him.

Maybe he will.

The doors slide apart, and before they can even accommodate his width, John is powering down the corridor. It parts for him like the Red Sea. House keepers pale at the look on his face and press themselves into the walls to avoid his path. The guard at the very last door preemptively swipes a copy of John's keycard for him, and swings the door open. It feels like he's drowning; clawing for the surface, and failing.

His body carries him to his destination without proper consciousness. He doesn't need to remember the route.

At last — Two mahogany doors, engraved with hummingbirds.

He shoves them open.

"Baba!"

The moment he hears that scratchy, girly squeal, John Wick almost cries. His daughter comes running over to him, and all he can do is drop to his knees and squeeze her when they collide. Quite pathetically, he grabs at the back of her head, nuzzles her into the crux of his neck, and just closes his eyes. She clings to him. His heart. His body feels right, now. Everything is as it should be. He does not let go.

"Leila," He defaltes with relief. Over and over again, he says her name. "Oh, Leila."

When he pulls back, cradling her neck, John takes in his daughter. Compared to himself, her clothes are dry, and warm; probably freshly ironed by the fireplace. Her speckled cheeks are studded with dimples. Her lashes are thick where his are thin, her smile is bright where his is gone. When he looks at her, and sees all the differences between them already, John knows that everything — everything — he has ever done, has been worth it.

"Why are you wet?" His little girl giggles, clinging to his hand.

He's screwed everything up. The light of his life will be turned into nothing but a chess piece in a game she isn't playing.

John fixes her baby hairs; swipes his thumb over her cheekbone. He remembers doing it when she was only a week old, the only time in his life he'd ever been this scared. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Why?"

He bares his empty wrist to her.

"Oh," She sits on the floor, in his puddle of rain. She inspects all angles of his wrist. He watches her. He could do it all day. "S'gone."

"Yeah, honey," John admits, numbly. "It's gone."

They listen to the rain as it pelts down on the windows in heavy, pulsing sheets.

It sounds a little like the Hudson River in the wind, right as John was about to throw his best friend's dead body into it.

As he pictures Marcus in his mind, John does not see a person. He sees a ticking time bomb walking around the streets of New York City. He sees hushed conversations in shadowed bars. He sees one small sentence, slipped by mistake, and then he sees the end. Gradually, the grim picture paints itself. Outside the window, on the cusp of the city's concrete roofs, the sky becomes a little gloomier in this moment.

"S'okay, Baba." His daughter soothes. "I make you a new one."

All words fail him. All he can do is sit there, slumped, and look at her like she's a painting hanging on a faraway wall.

A door opens softly.

"Mister Wick?"

For a moment, he almost draws his pistol.

He recovers, but pulls Leila into him. "Yes?"

"Leila's dinner is ready in the dining room."

John slowly shakes his head. "No. No, bring it in here. Her pyjamas, her towels, soap, everything. Bring it in here. I'm doing it all tonight."

The maid adopts a pitying look. "Yes, Mister Wick."

The door shuts.

"Come on, Baba." His daughter mumbles. "I make you new one."

As the fire shudders, casting strange shapes across his features in the dark, John mindlessly starts fixing his daughter's baby hairs again. A grandfather clock chimes from somewhere else in the apartment. Already, John Wick is plotting. The sky falls darker still. The world may be full of snakes poised to strike from every crevice of the city, but John always knew that. He will be waiting. There is nothing on this Earth that will keep them safe from him.

"Okay, sweetheart."

This time, he'll do it all with a pink bracelet sewn into his pocket.

This turned out to be a little more angsty, ambiguous and bittersweet than I thought it might, but I think it suits the tone of the previous chapter. (And the movies!) I really hope you enjoyed it.

#john wick #john wick's daughter #daddy issues #two-shot

28 notes · View notes

marcianoliterati · 2 years ago

Text

books reviews - june 2023,part I

I read a lot this month so on page 13 I decided to post in parts.

this includes:

A lesson in murder , by Verity Bright

A mistletoe moment , by Natasha West

A lesson in murder by Verity Bright

4 stars

(solid, entertaining, would read more)

is book 7 in the Lady Eleanor Swift mysteries. I haven’t read any of the previous ones but this one was free and sounded fun. These books generally don’t care if you read them in order anyway. I got this on stuff your kindle day, i was browsing around and it seemed interesting enough.

Lady Eleanor is invited to her old school for a speech, and ends up staying to solve a murder, and to help as a boarding house mistress.it’s set in England in 1921.

Lady Eleanour has recently inherited her family’s state after the death of her uncle, who was the one to ship her off to boarding school at the age of 9 after the death of her parents, and the school often felt like a stifling prison to her, but she survived and is not much a proper lady, despite the school’s best efforts.

It is mentioned she has done some remarkable things on top of murder solving, like cycling by herself around the world.

I’m not entirely sure what she means by “around the world” as europeans and other first-worlders tend to have rather skewed ways about things like that, but that is certainly an achievement, a woman cycling by herself in the 1920’s was quite a scandal.

It is labelled a ‘cozy mystery’ which seems to be a popular tag nowadays, though what exactly that means is vague. It encompasses a lot. It generally features little violence, with amateur detectives.

Yes, like agatha christie, she is considered somewhat of a pioneer i understand.

Maybe it’s just the ones I’m drawn to, but a lot of them seem to include their characters living in small towns and getting around on bikes.

They can be a bit of a mixed bag, sometimes too wholesome, too interested in describing the everyday world and it takes forever to even get to the murder part. Generally if nothing has happened at 25% i DNF unless i actually find the characters compelling, which is rarely the case.

Others are better and know to present the murder first, and then we see a bit of the world until it is discovered.

This one presents the murder pretty much immediately, which i appreciated.

And it makes the victim known to the detective, something quite unusual, but it helps, giving her good justification to stay, to help, to decided to stay and help at the boarding house. Adding the personal angle helps here, which isn’t always the case.

It did remind me a bit of one of my favourite christies, a cat among the pigeons, which is technically a poirot story, but he doesn’t show up until about 75% , which is quite the risk but agatha christie knew what she was doing.

It also takes place in a boarding school for posh english young ladies, and it has the girls trying to work it all out, it’s really well done.

I really enjoyed it, and if i find more books free or in Kindle Unlimited i’d certainly give them a chance.

I enjoyed the boarding school setting, thought it wasn’t too expanded on, but it was fun. Clashing of views,gossip,drama.

The main characters are Lady Eleanor, her butler who apparently accompanies everywhere, and a cop they appear to have befriended.

What I found most interesting, is that the MC, Lady Eleanor, is very much a walking portrait of ADHD.

She has a lot of energy, is very curious, bad at staying still, chicken scrawl handwriting, disorganised, often engages in dangerous behaviour, had behavioural issues in school and so on.

And a decent number of the plucky girl detective genre have similar traits, such as being nosy, active, and incapable of staying put, though not as strong as here, it does make me wonder where does it come from?

Is there a particular example authors are copying? And from there more people copying these copies until it became an archetype?

Cause i do feel like i see this archetype often, though i dont know if there is particular example

Some of it makes sense, like the characters having money, so they dont have to work so they can spend their time investigating, and them being nosy and curious is necessary so they’ll want to find out more. And wandering around which serves to lead them to places and ovearhear things.

Kind of a chicken and egg situation.

It was a fairly entertaining and easy to read book, it flows well, it is decently paced, and does a decent job in the world building, especially about Lady Eleanor’s personal history, and her history with the school.

She is there to investigate a murder, but she also gets a chance to look into her own past, her family history, and her experiences at school, where she was very nervous to return.

The culprit is surprising, though i worry a bit about like,class issues i guess. And it has a heartwarming development as sort of epilogue.

For fans of cozy mystery,boarding school stories, and apparently how adhd can solve mysteries, when we’re not too busy looking for the glasses sitting in our heads that is.

A mistletoe Moment by Natasha West

2 stars

(bit of a letdown, passable entertainment, a bit like fast food. Would not read again)

I’ve read several of her books, and I’m a big fan, they’re always entertaining, and idk, credible. A lot of romance feels performative, like this is a and this is b and now theyre in love, and i dont care cause it all seems so fake.

Which is why i like her stories, cause generally i do buy it, I can believe it, get involved,get invested.

This one however, felt a bit flat. It is a novella though, more of a one-shot, and it is fun, but it all feels a bit too quick, a bit underdeveloped. Entertaining, but also kind of shallow.

It takes place around christmas, starting at a party, where our main characters hit it off, but theyre separated and spend the rest of the novel, trying to find each other.

One of them was working the party while the other goes there for a work party. Neither is too happy, but it’s not a ‘you inspired me to change my life’ type of deal it is too quick for it.

And it all feels a bit too contrived, the girl who just lost her phone and apparently doesnt have a cloud back up so the phone has nothing in it? Like i get oh i dont want a phone contract i dont wanna be tied down, but you can have a google backup on pay as you go as well?

Like, surely there were better solutions than running around the city?

It all feels rather silly, and it kills my suspension of disbelief.

And this in story, i didn’t particularly like either of the MCs so i also have problems caring about what happens to them, i really only finished it cause it was very short.

#book reviews #kindle unlimited #cozy mystery #ff romance #book blogging

2 notes · View notes

intercoursefluids · 4 years ago

Text

Marry Me Part 1

Dick cracks the kitchen door open and takes a picture of the scene.

Marinette kneading dough with a focused look on her face, Damian sitting at the counter occasionally looking up at Marinette before continuing to sketch.

Dick turns to the side, noticing Alfred coming his way and scrambles to hide the evidence of his snooping.

Alfred looks at him, raising an eyebrow before walking in the door.

Dick waits around 6 minutes for Alfred to walk out and away before creeping back over to the door.

Soft instrumental music now fills the air, Marinette humming along as Damian watches her with a soft smile.

Marinette's soft humming fills the air accompanied by Damian's pencil strokes.

Dick pulls out his phone taking a small video and posting it to his personal twitter with the caption “It’s so Domestic!” followed with a crying emoji.

Marinette finishes kneading the dough and starts to form them into little rolls, placing them on the pan as she sways to the music.

Jason arrives just as she finishes.

Dick waves like crazy, signaling him to be quiet, and for once Jason listens.

He comes over peeking through the door with Dick before breaking out into a wide grin, pulling his phone out as Marinette places the pan in the oven, turning on the timer before washing her hands of the flour.

They watch as she hums swaying to the music as she dries her hand with a dish towel when the unexpected happens.

Now to understand their shock, you’ll need some background information.

Damian Wayne would rather gouge out his own eyes before dancing with someone.

So imagine their surprise when their little brother stands up and walks over to an oblivious Marinette, humming softly with her.

He taps her on the shoulder to get her attention before bowing at the waist and holding out his hand to her.

“May I have this dance?”

Marinette smiles blindingly bright before placing her hand in his.

He guides her around the room, spinning her periodically with the softest look any of them have ever seen on his face.

He starts to hum louder than before as he spins her before pulling her close again with a hand on her face.

Dick has to put a hand over his mouth and pass his phone to Jason because he's shaking so much. Tears stream freely down his face as he stifles his sobs.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Neither brother even jumps at Selinas sudden voice, instead mutely nodding their agreements.

Dick leans back against his step-mom, sniffling at the display of affection playing out in front of them.

“It’s okay Dick, me and Selina are crying too.”

One look at Jason and Selina confirms that they are both in fact crying as they record. Well in Jason's case his eyes are a little shiny.

The song comes to an end as a timer rings.

They break away and Dick takes back his phone, stopping the video as Marinette checks and something in a pot on the stove.

Dick is about to step away when he notices Selina still filming and Tim walking towards them.

“What are you all doing? And why is Selina recording?”

Thankfully Tim seems to notice the secretive atmosphere and whispers not giving away their position to the two inside the kitchen.

“Your little brother is being sweet and I have a feeling that he’s not done being affectionate yet.”

Tim raises an eyebrow crouching down next to the rest of them and pulls out his phone before pointing it through the gap.

“Blackmail kinda sweet or make me cry kinda sweet?”

He turns back to the rest and sees Dicks face before pulling out a handkerchief that Marinette made him.

“Nevermind.”

They turn back in time to see Marinette finish stirring whatever is in the pot and move it off the heat before turning back to Damian.

Hugging him she rests her head on his chest with a smile as a new song starts up.

“Do you want to dance?”

Marinette looks up at Damian with a confused smile on her face.

“I thought we already did, mon chou?”

Damian chuckles softly tucking some of the hair that fell from her bun behind her ear.

“That we did, Habibiti. But against my better judgment I can’t help but find that dancing with you is one of the finer things in life.”

Marinette smirks at him, her hand coming up to grasp the wrist of the hand still cupping her cheek.

“Well then maybe we shouldn’t dance, afterall too much of something you enjoy can lead to an addiction.”

Damian smiles, swooping down to kiss her softly before pulling away.

“Indulge me just this once?”

Marinette sighs heavily, before speaking.

“Oh alright, but just this once.”

Behind the door there isn’t a dry eye in sight, even Jason shed a tear or two.

They start dancing again but not quite how they were before.

Before they were doing proper ballroom dances, now they just hold each other close and sway. Marinette's arms around his neck and her head resting on his chest, meanwhile Damians arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against him with his chin resting on top of her head, both of their eyes closed. The perfect picture of contentment.

Dick snaps a picture before immediately posting it to his twitter with an attempt at a caption that looks more like a keyboard smash since he can’t see very well through his tears.

They sway together for a long while before a second timer sounds.

They break apart, albeit reluctantly, and Marinette pulls the tray from the oven before carrying it over to the counter and switching the now golden brown buns to a cooling rack.

Since she is now facing the door the brothers plus Selina have a perfect view of Damians face from where he stands behind her.

Dick, now coherent enough to take pictures without them being blurry, lets the others film as he takes another picture. Posting it again to his private twitter so the rest of the family can see.

His face is full of pure adoration and love for the girl working in front of him.

“Mon Chou? Can you grab the glaze from the fridge? I need it.”

Damian immediately snaps out of his daze to do as she asks. He places the bowl by her hand before wrapping her up in a hug from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“I love you, Marinette.”

Dick immediately takes two pictures, one with just the hug and Marinette working and another of her smiling after he says he loves her. And just like the rest, he immediately uploads them.

She smiles, stepping away to untie her apron and walking away. Effectively breaking the hug much to their 4 spectators disappointment.

“I love you too, Damian.”

She walks around the counter to hang up her apron, leaving only a few feet between her and the people who are filming them.

She doesn’t make it.

“I think I want to marry you.”

The 4 sharp inhales go unnoticed by the two teens as Marinette drops her apron, spinning around to face Damian with a bright blush.

“What?”

Marinette's voice is barely a whisper, as Damian rounds the island to come stand next to her, taking her hands and accidentally angling them in the perfect view to show both of their faces to the cameras.

“Let me reword that. Marinette, I know I want to marry you.”

Tears start to form in her eyes as Damian gets down on one knee, pressing a kiss to each of her hands before he starts to speak again.

“Marinette, you are so incredibly phenomenal. Ever since the first day I met you I knew I was doomed to fall for you, I just wasn’t prepared for how hard I would actually fall.”

Dick snaps another picture managing to type out a simple “OMFG” before posting.

“You are the only one I have ever been able to see myself spending the rest of my life with, the only one I have ever wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

Tears stream down Marinette's face as Damian looks into her eyes.

“I know that you have been hurt by the people you trusted most, you’ve told me how the people who were supposed to stay by your side turned you back on you.”

Damian sighs, turning her hands up and kissing her palms.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I vow from this day forward that in any way I may accidentally hurt you, even when I try my damndest to prevent it, that I will allow it to be done onto myself tenfold. I will stand by your side but I will never force you to remain by mine. When you want to take the lead I will cover your blind spots and protect you from those who try to blindside you. When you can’t think of a plan right away, or are too overwhelmed to take the lead I will stand front and center to cover you till we make it to safety. My sword arm, my strength, and my knowledge are at your disposal. And my heart and love are yours to take.”

Selina reaches over dick to Jason and Tim, putting her hands on their shoulders as they both cry freely.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing or even understanding my emotions.”

Marinette opens her mouth at his self deprecating tone, but Damian rushes to catch her off guard.

“Even so, the one thing I am sure of is that there will never be enough words to tell you just how much I love you. I will happily spend everyday for the rest of my life, trying to show you just how much you mean to me. And even then it won’t be enough.”

Damian pauses giving Marinette time to let out her thoughts before he continues.

“Oh Damian, I-, but what will everyone think? We’re 16! No one even knows I am with you outside of friends and family. What will we do when people call me a gold digger? I- people in France already don’t like me. I don’t want to drag you through the mud with me by agreeing to marry you Damian.”

Marinette winces, slowly pulling her hands away from Damians. He just grips them tighter.

“Marinette.” His serious tone makes everything go quiet, silencing even his brothers and stepmom's soft sobs.

“There are only two things in existence that could stop me from marrying you and one of them is if you say ‘No’. If the people in France believe that they have any say in what you do or don’t do just because they believe the words of a liar over you, it just proves that they are even dumber than I thought. As for our age? We can be engaged for the two years it takes us to turn 18, or if you want, we can wait longer. I don’t mind. And I’m pretty sure that if someone called you a ‘gold digger’ Jason, Dick, and Tim would put a stop to it before word even got to us.”

He gently pulls her hands back again, kissing her palms as she speaks.

“What's the other thing?”

He hums in question, meeting her eyes.

“You said that there were only two things that could stop you from marrying me, one was me saying ‘No’. What’s the other?”

Damian straightens slightly making sure she knows just how serious he is.

“Death.”

It's silent for a minute, no one daring to breathe.

“Yes.”

It's barely a whisper, hardly more than a breath, and yet it holds more worth than anything else in the world.

“Yes I will marry you, Damian.”

Damian immediately jumps up wrapping Marinette in a hug and spinning around with the before dropping to the ground again.

“I can’t believe you said yes.”

Marinette laughs at Damian, happy tears flowing down her face.

“You asked me!”

“I didn’t think that I was lucky enough for you to actually say yes!”

Marinette giggles again pulling Damian into a kiss that he happily returns, at least before he groans loudly and breaks, instead resting his forehead against hers.

“What's wrong?”

Damian sighs his shoulders lumping before answering.

“I have to tell my brothers and Selina by tomorrow. At least Dick and Selina so they can help me-”

He cuts off, paling severely.

“Dicks gonna kill me. I proposed to you without a ring, and he will skin me alive for it.”

Marinette laughs again.

“I’ll ask him to spare you. Besides, he can’t have me as his sister-in-law if he kills my husband.”

Marinette blushes at him as he smiles.

“Tomorrow, I’ll get the ring tomorrow. I don’t think I could wait any longer than that to finally put a ring on your finger.”

They cuddle up together, relishing in each other's presence.

Dick is the first to stand up, followed by Jason, Tim, and then Selina.

They walk down to the cave, all staying silent as their phones save the videos they were lucky enough to take.

Once they make it the tears start up again, full volume wails coming from dick and sniffles from Jason.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Dick cries into his stepmother's hair. His brothers following suit.

All of a sudden Dicks phone starts going off like crazy.

He pulls it out annoyed ready to tell whoever is on the other end off for interrupting his cry sesh.

467 notifications and climbing from twitter.

He opens it to the picture he snapped when Damian started swinging Marinette through the air with the caption ‘She said yes! BRB gonna go cry my eyes out’.

He looks at his username with horror, paling considerably as he looks at his family.

“I fucked up.”

#FLUFF #maridami #daminette #batfam #maribat #so cute

283 notes · View notes

sirowsky · 4 years ago

Text

The Stories We Tell Ourselves (One-Shot)

Author's Note: So, this was an ask sent to me by my darling wife, @lucrezia-thoughts a while back, that I for some reason never actually added to my collection of works. Which seemed like a shame, since I'm kinda proud of it (it was my very first ask), so I thought I'd re-post it and give it a proper spotlight. Description: Mando's injured and Grogu's bored, so fem!reader tells him a bedtime story.

Rating: Everyone (all fluff all the way on this one, though blood is mentioned) Word Count: 1872

It had been one of those days when one thing had just bled into another, and everything had gone wrong. It was a miracle all three of you had survived, but the Mandalorian had been injured, trying to protect you from a very unpleasant trader, who had knives concealed everywhere in his clothing. Mando had been cut along his side, and while the injury would heal on its own, it had bled a lot before you’d been able to get back to the Crest and properly dress it. He’d insisted on getting the ship off the planets surface before he’d allowed you to help him, and as a result, there was blood everywhere. He hadn’t actually hired you, he had just sort of… realised that the kid liked you and decided that if you were brave enough to stick with them despite the danger of their situation, without even asking for payment, then he wouldn’t stop you.

You weren’t sure if he actually liked you. It was hard to tell with him, even after months of being couped up with the man. You could quite easily read him around others, as you’d become familiar with his body language and mannerisms, so you knew how he should behave if he liked you. But for some reason, he behaved differently with you. His body language was always much more still and maybe even careful, around you, as though he was afraid you’d break if he accidentally bumped into you. It was more than a little annoying, sometimes, since it made it difficult to define what your relationship actually was. But it was mostly just annoying because you wanted him to bump into you. He was a mystery, but that wasn’t what drew you to him. He was kind and respectful, quiet but strong, in both body and conviction. He wasn’t too proud or too self-assured, but he was loyal and protective and gentle. It was quite amazing to you that he was so proficient at using those hands for violence, when he was also so tender with the baby. It had brought tears to your eyes on more than one occasion.

When you’d finally cleaned the last remnants of blood from the controls in the cock-pit, you headed back down to check on Mando. But your eyes fell on the empty pram sitting on the floor of the cargo-bay.

“Oh, no. Kid… where’d you go?”

You searched quietly, not wanting to wake Mando after you’d finally gotten him to lay down in his bunk to rest, before going to scrub the blood away. But then you heard a muffled giggle, and of course it came from the damned bunk. You’d left the door open so that you could easily hear it if he stirred or seemed to worsen in any way.

“No, no, no… Come on, get out of there, let the man rest.”

You reached in and snatched the kid off of Mando’s chest and then stood there for a minute, rocking him quietly against your hip, while you listened for any sign that your… companion… had woken up. You eventually sighed and sat down on a crate, directly behind the bunk, cradling the kid in your arms.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, you know.”

He just cooed and looked at you with bright eyes.

“Okay. How about a bedtime story?”

He just blinked and angled his head a bit more towards you.

“Hm, let’s see. When I was young, my mother would tell me stories about love to get me to sleep. She said that a child that feels loved, will always have the comfort to sleep soundly. So, this story begins with a King. A good, and kind man who rules his land with open arms and a warm heart, but also protects it with ferocity and conviction. Because that land holds everything that he loves, and without it – he’d be broken. One day, when the King is travelling, he finds an orphan outside of his dominion, and being the good man that he is, he brings the child home, to raise as his own. He has no idea how to do that, and it’s chaotic most of the time, especially since his duties can’t be put on hold while he cares for a baby. He still has to rule the land. But he loves that baby so much, that no matter how hard it gets, he endures. He doesn’t care that he hasn’t slept in days, or that he’s always terrified that something’s gonna happen to his boy. None of it matters, as long as the child is safe.”

Mando woke up the moment the kid climbed onto his chest. It was reflexive at this point. Even though he knew that you were there, and would care for the boy without his asking, he was already conditioned to react to whatever the little one needed. But he was wounded and tired, and he heard you coming down from the cock-pit, probably having cleaned up his mess – yet again, so he ignored the kid, and made no effort to let you know that he was awake, when you came to pick the child up. He was in some pain, the wound throbbing a little with each beat of his pulse, which made falling back asleep a little harder, even though he was exhausted. And it was surprisingly nice, just listening to you talk quietly to the kid, not knowing he could hear you. It wasn’t surprising that he found it nice; he found everything about you nice. It was surprising that he enjoyed the eavesdropping aspect so much. That he liked the intimacy of listening to you when your guard was down, and you were just being a woman caring for a child. He listened closely to your story, not missing the clear similarities to your actual life and the way you two had met.

“So, when the King has to travel again, he decides to bring his son along, and they go on a long and adventurous journey together. But on their way back, they come across a woman, wounded and in need of help. And because the King is a good man, he brings the woman to his castle, and helps her heal. And while she heals, she repays the King his kindness, by looking after his son while he cares for his kingdom. And as the woman watches her rescuer, and sees the true warmth of his heart as he cares for his land as closely, and tenderly, as he cares for his son, she falls in love with him.”

He nearly stopped breathing as he heard the words. Could you really mean him? The rest of the story was more or less exactly your story, so you had to be talking about him. He had never allowed himself to consider it. To think that you could ever want to be with a man like him, no matter how much he might want you to. He knew that his efforts to restrain himself around you made him seem stiff and perhaps a bit cold, and it always hurt him to see you try so hard to read him, to understand why he was different towards you than his friends. But if you wanted him too… that changed everything.

“But this wonderful man is a King, and she’s just a woman he found on the side of the road. She has no claim to him, and she’s afraid to tell him how she feels, because if he doesn’t feel the same, it’ll break her heart. So, she cares for the child as best she can, and hopes that he won’t make her leave the castle once she’s healed. And he doesn’t. He let’s her stay, and over time, she finds the courage to tell him the truth, and he reveals that he loves her too. And together they raise the child with love and happiness and adventures, and that’s how this little story ends, my sweet.”

The kid was asleep by the time you finished the tale, and you rocked him gently in your arms after you fell silent, to make sure he wouldn’t stir once you got up to put him back in his pram. You tucked him in snugly, and then closed the little egg up, to keep him warm and safe. Once you were done, you raised your hand up to your neck, rubbing idly at the knots and strained muscles, after such a long day of hardships and stress, and you couldn’t stop the exhausted sigh that escaped you. The movement to your side didn’t register in your brain until Mando was already sitting up at the edge of the bunk, and it startled you. You flinched and then your brain woke up again, and you approached him.

“Hey, what’s the matter, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Oh, stars above… the number of ways that he could answer that last question.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“No, no, you’re the one that’s wounded, which means I’m the only one that gets to ask that.”

He considered that for a moment.

“I heard your story, mesh’la.”

You froze, and suddenly your heart was frantic in your chest. He heard… all of that? You’d been so certain he was completely passed out! You hadn’t meant to pour so much truth into the story, but it had happened anyway, and now he knew how you felt. He knew. He saw you begin to panic and reached a gloved hand out to you, which you couldn’t bring yourself to take, but before you could back away from him, he reached for your waist instead, and pulled you in closer, until you were standing between his slightly bent knees as he rested against the bunk. You were flustered and shocked to suddenly be so close to him, and you found yourself having trouble figuring out where to put your hands in the small space between you. He’d never given any indication that he liked it whenever you’d touched him, so you settled for resting your palms on the flat and cool beskar on his chest, with your eyes firmly planted on the diamond shaped indentation at the centre of it.

“It was a very good story. I really liked it.”

Your eyes snapped up to stare at his visor, and you wanted to say a thousand things. But nothing came out. You felt him draw in a shaky breath, before his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer. Then he bent his head forwards, leaning his helmet against your forehead, and your arms found their way around his waist, suddenly needing to hold him to you, now that he’d finally given you his silent permission.

“Would you tell me another story?”

His voice was trembling just a bit. Just enough that you could tell through the modulator.

“Okay. What would you like to hear?”

“Tell me how the story continues, after the King declares his love for the woman? Tell me how they live happily ever after… and I promise I’ll try to make the story come true for you.”

THE END

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian oneshot #mando x fem!reader #the mandalorian x fem!reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #baby grogu #baby yoda #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #sweet fluff

212 notes · View notes

wonderful-wells-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Fanclub; Chapter 1

EoWells x Reader

Some of the STAR Labs employees have a secret fanclub where they discuss Harrison Wells and share pictures they take when they think he isn't looking. Problem is it's not quite as secret as they think it is. The man himself seems to have taken an interest in the the little group, finding it to be the perfect place to find willing partners to satisfy his needs. And you're his next pick.

Work is dying down for the evening at STAR Labs. Chemists are checking that all the storage units are set to the proper temperatures. Engineers are making sure that everything that needs to be powered down is. Lab techs are cleaning up their stations. But nearly everybody is discussing their plans for the weekend.

There is one worker who is not engaging in such conversations. You are currently crammed between two sections of machinery, determined to get this wiring finished before leaving for the day. That way, Monday, bright and early your team can start doing test runs.

You are not engaging in conversation with others but rather are talking to yourself as you work. “Some red over here, blue wire over there.” Your grin would light up the room if anybody could see it. “I just love when a color-coded array comes together.” There’s a buzz on your right butt-cheek, and you squeal in surprise.

“Everything alright in there?” One of the other scientists looks up from the desk.

“Yeah, Bri,” you extract yourself from the machine parts. “My phone just went off, and I thought something shocked me.”

“Girl, I can not tell you how often that happens to me,” Bri takes her purse from a drawer and a jacket off the chair. “So, what are your plans for the weekend. More number crunching?”

You pull your phone from your back pocket. “Actually my college roommate is having a bachelorette party tonight. So I said I would swing by the bar for a bit.”

“Sounds fun,” Bri gives a wave before heading to the door. “Don’t party too hard.”

She returns the wave before opening a group chat app on her phone to see what the notification is about.

KittyCat42; O.M.G did you see Dr. Wells today? a shirt THAT tight can not be workplace appropriate!!!

Attached is a photo taken from a smartphone at an angle in which the subject does not seem to be aware their picture is being taken. Dr. Harrison Wells is leaning over a desk, examining something on a monitor. Kitty is right; his shirt is very tight, his biceps bulge through the long black sleeves.

You grin, considering sending a reply, but another message comes in first.

YummyBitch73; Think he’s got plans? Looking that good, he’s got to be going out tonight.

Your thumbs move across the screen to type a quick response.

BabyDoll14; Maybe he has a date tonight?

KittyCat42; wonder who the lucky girl is?

You lean against a nearby workbench, smirking at the screen.

---

On the other side of the lab, somebody picks up their phone to check the barrage of notifications coming in. They chuckle before adding their own two cents.

Speedy22: Hey, who knows, it could be a lucky guy.

YummyBitch73: Oh you wish, he is a lady killer through and through

BabyDoll14: I mean, who are we to judge if it’s a lucky lady or gent. Maybe he swings one way, maybe he swings both ways. Who cares, we’re just here to talk about his ass behind his back.

“Speedy’ nods, almost respecting the woman on the other side of the screen for staying objective about objectifying her boss.

Speedy22: Speaking of ass, I got this one yesterday

He opens his gallery and scrolls until an ‘appropriate picture is found. A nice shot of Dr. Wells from behind; the quality is incredible for a smartphone shot. The man’s shirt is riding up, showing a nice strip of the skin of his back, even a bit of where his boxers rise above the waistband of his hands.

YummyBitch73: Damn Speedy, you always get the good ones. You’ll have to teach me some photography lessons sometime.

KittyCat42: what kind of camera are you using? The quality is so gooooood.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice draws his attention away from his device. “Are you staying late again tonight?”

Harrison Wells takes a breath to look her up and down, mentally running through his mind all the employees to try and remember who it is at his office door. “I’ll be headed out soon; I just have to wrap some things up.”

He recalls who she is when he sees the look she’s giving him. Brianna Masters, a specialist working down in Lab C. She would have had to go out of her way to get to his office before leaving. Self-proclaimed president of the Dr. Wells Fanclub, he had just been interacting with the group chat of; after the former president left with a job offer at Mercury Labs. She had been making goo-goo eyes at him since her interview three months ago.

“Well,” Bri twirls a curl of her hair, fluttering her eyelashes. “Harrison, you know I was wondering if you might like to take me out to get some drinks tonight?”

Dr. Wells tries to hide his displeasure at the thought. She wasn’t his type, physically, mentally, emotionally, “I have plans in the morning that require a clear head. Miss. Masters. Now is there anything of importance that you need?” The man was not adverse to flights of fancy to pass the time; he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on the little Fanclub of his if he wasn’t willing to look for ‘interested parties,’ but this particular woman has been of no real interest to him.

For reasons such as how she pouts at his response, “Well, having fun is important.” She mutters before wandering off down the hall, turning her attention to her phone.

YummyBitch73; holy Shit! He just asked me out for drinks. It sucks so much that I have to drive out to Coast City; I”d have taken him up in a heartbeat otherwise.

----

Back in Lab C, you finally finish with the maintenance on the machine. You check your phone once more while heading over to the desk and nearly cackle at what you’re reading. Everybody knows that Bri is full of shit, but there’s no point in calling it out and causing discourse.

You mute the phone to focus on your computer. While humming a quiet tune, you work on moving files to the USB stick plugged into the monitor.

“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing the download time in comparison to the clock on the screen. Of course, you could just leave it be, take the weekend off. It’s not like you get paid extra to run calculations at home.

17 minutes later

“Nonononono, wait, please!” You’re half running to the street as the bus pulls away, leaving you in the illuminated circle of a streetlamp, cursing yourself. That was going to be the last bus coming this way for the night. If you walk home, you’ll never make it in time to change for the party. You might not even make the event at all. You pace up and down the sidewalk, contemplating your options.

A car pulls up beside you, tinted window rolling down, “Need a lift?”

You stop, shocked, “Oh, no I…” you pause, looking through the window, “Dr. Wells, hi...hey.” You swallow your pride. “I would really love to get a ride on-with, with you.” Internally you cringe at how that came out, but figure he probably wouldn’t have heard such a minor slip.

The lock clicks open, and you reach for the door.

“Maple Apartments on South 11th street, right?” Harrison glances at you as you get in the car.

You pause before shutting the door, “do I want to know how you know that?”

He laughs, and you jump a bit at it, “I can see how that would sound a little suspicious.” His smile is reassuring, and his blue eyes are kind behind his glasses. “It was on your registration forms when you started. I enter new employee data myself. Total recall can be useful even for small matters.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, shutting the door and buckling in. “I really appreciate this Dr. Wells, I would have been so late tonight if I didn’t get home to change soon.”

“Bit plans tonight?” Harrison asks as he starts driving. Truth is he had suspected you’d be missing her bus. He had seen you running after the last bus or driven past you walking home numerous times out his way out. You had quite the habit of working until the absolute last moment.

You smile, twiddling your thumbs to keep your hands occupied. “Yeah, I’m meeting a friend at the new bar that opened down the street from my place. She’s getting married soon, and since I can’t make the wedding, I promised I would spend at least a couple hours at her bachelorette party.” You aren’t exactly sure why you’re volunteering this information to your boss. It would be inappropriate to be so casual with him; then again, it’s also inappropriate to be part of a Fanclub that secretly takes pictures of him and talks about how great his ass looks.

Harrison ‘hmms’ in thought. “Why can’t you make it to the wedding?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, taking a moment to take in the way you sit, act, look, before returning his eyes to the road.

“Oh, they scheduled it for a Wednesday, so,” you look towards him just moments after he looks away. The first thing you notice is his hair; whenever you’ve seen him in the morning, it’s perfectly combed and straight, but it seems like as the day went on, it began to take on a life of its own. While the back is still nice and neat, the front is sticking out in all kinds of directions.

“You could have asked for the day off,” Dr. Wells offers, “Am I such a terrible boss that you think I”d deny you some vacation after all your hard work?”

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks at what seems to be a compliment to her work ethic, “Oh no, I don’t think that at all. It’s just that, well, we have so much work to do. Every day we get a little closer to your dreams of the particle accelerator, and I want to contribute absolutely everything I can to that dream.” You smile. “You’re going to do such incredible things for the world of science Dr. Wells, and I don’t want to waste any time that could be spent helping you.”

The man is somewhat stunned by this. He’d attributed her long hours and determination to personal ambition. “What about you? Do you want history to remember you for your achievements?”

You bite your lower lip in thought at the question, “I mean sure, it would be nice to be recognized for my contribution, but,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m more concerned about how my work will impact the world, not so much if I’m remembered for it. Anyways you’re the true genius. I can tell that STAR Labs will make big changes and put humanity on a path towards the future. As long as I get to be a part of that, it’s all I really need.”

Harrison does a low chuckle at your sentiment, amused by the naivety. You speak with such hope and wonder and admiration. If you knew the truth, how horrified would you be? The realization of the end goal of the particle accelerator, the effects across history that your determination would wreak.

He grins, “Well, I am glad to have such a dedicated employee, but I do believe that one off day is not going to hurt our progress.”

You purse your lips, “You don’t come down to Lab C very often; you’d be surprised how off the rails things can go when I’m not there. Anyways I would rather work than go to a wedding. It’s not my kind of scene.”

He can sense that you are holding something back but doesn’t press the issue any further. He’s reached your apartment building anyways.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be more than happy to give you the time off,” he says as he parks.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reach for the door handle, “oh, and thank you so much for the ride. I really owe you one.”

Dr. Wells makes a mental note about cashing in that favor later. “You just stay safe and enjoy yourself tonight.” He smiles warmly at you as you wave goodbye, but when the door shuts, his grin turns a bit darker. He watches you walk away, eyes tracing the curve of your figure, resting on the beautiful shape of your rear, right up until you disappear into your building.

As he begins to drive away, he catches sight of himself in the rearview mirror. There is something about this form of his that seems to drive the ladies crazy, and he wasn’t opposed to taking advantage of that. While pulling back into the street and driving away, he thinks on his situation.

For 13 years now, Eobard Thawne has been trapped in this god-forsaken time period. For a while, he had focused solely on his mission, rarely interacting with others unless it served a greater purpose. But he was still a man, subject to desire. At first, it was almost enough to make him regret allowing Harrison Well’s wife to die, she could have filled his needs easily. But that woman had been intelligent; she’d have discovered his identity eventually, so allowing her to die had been for the best.

Still, after a few years of isolation, Thawne had found the need unbearable and began seeing ways to fill the hole that was forming in his chest. Little flings, one-off nights where he indulged his carnal side, allowed himself the pleasure of another’s body before quickly parting ways with them, when he discovered that a fanclub devoted to him had been formed amongst his employees, that made the whole thing easier.

Joining the group chat under a false name was easy enough. It inflated his ego every time he read them discussing how great they thought he looked, and he was more than happy to provide material for them to gush over. And with that, it was like he had been given a list of women who would fuck him with no questions asked. All he had to do was choose. Of course, he has to be wary of those who might get too clingy or go off telling other people. But it’s not that hard to week those types out of the pack.

Thawne notices magenta neon as he’s driving. A club with a grand opening sign out front. He smiles, knowing that now not only does he have a new prey lure in, but the perfect hunting ground as well.

#eowells x reader #eowells fanfiction #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells fanfiction #eowells #harrison wells #jade writes

58 notes · View notes

bokettochild · 4 years ago

Note

Hmmm if you need ideas I always love cultural difference shenanigans so maybe Twilight and Hyrule or Warriors and Hyrule having jarringly different cultures?

I didn't really touch on cultures much, since I'm still learning a lot about the games in general, but here's three boys discussing the educational systems of their respective provinces!

(Asks are open still, if anyone wants a story, feel free to request it! I will try my best! (Crossovers aren't off the table, but I can't promise I'll write them))

From Ordon to Catalia

“So, you’re telling me,” Warriors states disbelievingly. “That you, the Hero of Hyrule, couldn’t even speak Hylian until mere months before you saved the kingdom?”

The traveler nods, a faint flush dusting over his browned cheeks at Warriors’ question.

Twilight shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Who’da thunk it? Chin up traveler, I didn’t even live in Hyrule when I saved it.”

“What?” Warriors turns to him, royal blue flickering with disbelief as he stares from one country hero to the other. “Seriously? Both of you?”

“Well,” Hyrule tugs at one of his curls, eyes glistening with mischief as he speaks. “I mean, Legend saved like, four other countries, and he wasn’t from any of them.”

“But the first country he saved was Hyrule.” Warriors asserts. “And at least he was sent to the other places or something, unlike you two.” The captain stares from one to the other. “Traveling through the kingdom and just happening to run into the Royal Nursemaid?” He turns to Twilight, disbelief still written clear on his face. “And chasing monsters, if I recall correctly. What the heck, guys?”

He can’t help but take a bit of pity on Warriors, the captain has only ever been outside of his Hyrule’s main areas when time traveling, and the poor man clearly has little to no familiarity with the provinces and kingdoms beyond his own home, save for whatever rich and stuffy nobles talk about when royalty from the other kingdoms comes to visit. But even so, Wars lacks the faintest clue of the world outside of Hyrule’s borders, and that's just a little bit sad.

He leans back on the bed that he and Hyrule are sharing, it’s been a few weeks since they were last at an inn and he fully intends on enjoying the plush beds while they can, even if it is a bit too soft for his own comfort. “We could tell you more about them, if you like?”

At his side, Hyrule nods, smile bright if not a bit wistful. “I’m always willing to share about my home.”

Warriors hesitates, caught between disbelief and curiosity.

“I don’t think even Legend has been to Catalia.” Hyrule muses, but Twilight sees the sparkle in Hyrule’s eyes, he’s tempting the captain in a way the both of them know is sure to work.

“That so?” Warriors muses. “Well, I suppose so. Although,” He turns a cynical eye to Twilight. “I’m not sure how much I actually want to know about farm life.”

“Your loss, city boy.” He scoffs in response, a wolfish smile pulling at his features.

It’s nice, he thinks as he leans back further, letting Hyrule pull his thoughts together and Warriors shake off the surprise of their previous words, to just sit and talk with his brothers. Time and Legend have roomed with Wild so he doesn’t have to worry about the Cub making trouble without him there to watch him, and for the first time in a long tie he can just sit down and talk with his other brothers. He doesn’t know why Time let Four assign rooms like this, but he isn’t complaining if the others aren’t.

“Well, what would you like to hear about?”

Warriors frowns, staring at Hyrule for a moment as the Traveler flushes darker under his curls. Maybe the healer wasn’t as ready to talk as he first thought. “How about, your family, what sort of people are they?”

Hyrule stares at the captain disbelievingly for a moment. “You’ve met my mom, remember? And I don’t really remember much of my dad, he went missing when I was a kid.”

“Oh,” Warriors flushes, a strained smile taking over his features. “Right.”

Hyrule giggles softly. “I’m not mad, Cap, just surprised that you forgot. Although to be fair, not many people probably think about it since I look like a Hylian.”

“Yeah, about that, how does that work?”

“Hylian father, I look more like him in this form. We may be from Catalia, but he was there entirely because he was fleeing the destruction of Hyrule. He met my mom in the Aver Forests, where she’d been wandering for the last few years. Great fairies can leave their pools if they so choose, but they do so rarely. Unfortunately, mom had too because of the increase of monsters in Hyrule.”

“What is the Aver Forest?”

“The biggest, lushest forest in all of Catalia!” Hyrule spread his arms wide as if to indicate how big it truly was. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the other side of the lost woods in my time, since it’s so close to the border. It nothing like Hyrule, but it is, was, home.”

“So, did yer ma follow you to Hyrule?”

“Not exactly.” The traveler replies with a small frown. “She came after Hyrule was made safer again. I can’t exactly leave the country freely anymore, so she came to see me. It’s a good thing too, since getting potions is far more difficult than just bathing in her pool.”

“Are potions really that expensive in your time?” Warriors asks, concern flecking his gentle gaze.

“It’s not about the price,” Hyrule frowns. “It’s more that most people don’t know how to brew them, and finding a person who can is difficult.”

“Ah, supply and demand.”

“Pardon, what?” The traveler looks up to the captain in confusion.

“Supply and demand, you know,” Wars states like it’s common knowledge. “When lots of people want something but only a few people can provide it? It’s the reason shops can get away with charging so much for things.”

Both country heroes stare at him.

“Have neither of you ever heard of it?” The captain blinks at them, leaning forwards on his bed. “How is that possible?”

“Not all provinces have a school, Wars.” He replies, chuckling softly at the surprise on Warriors’ face. “For farming communities we focus on animals and plants, don’t need no fancy education to plow a field.”

Hyrule stares between the two of them. “Alright, this might be a Hylian word I haven’t learned yet, but what is a scewl?”

“A what?” Warriors echoes, turning to face the traveler.

“A scewl?”

“A school?” Twilight translates, brow furrowed until the Hero of Hyrule nods in confirmation, after which he relaxes again. “It's a place people go to learn to read and write, and to count and do equations.”

“And here I thought there weren’t any in Ordon?” Warriors teases lightly.

“Get off it, Cap’. We don’t have schools, but we do have books, I know how to read and if I can learn more than I will.”

“Ah, self-taught?”

“Mostly.” He shrugs. “Hylian’s real different from Ordon-Standard, even if they’re essentially the same.”

“That makes no sense.” The captain deadpans, staring at him blankly.

“I mean, even though they have a lot in common, the way people speak and pronounce things, the vernacular and what not, is quite different that Hyrule proper.”

Hyrule blinks at the two of them owlishly. “What are equations?”

A glance is shared between them. “Math.” Warriors answers. “You know, adding, subtraction, multiplication and division?”

The traveler raises a brow, but he's shrinking in on himself in the way he does when he gets nervous. “What are those? Multipulycation and division?”

Warriors stares cautiously at the traveler, gaze gentle but concerned. “Hyrule, do you not know how to do math?”

“Do you know how to count?” Twilight tries instead.

“Of course!”

“Can you combine numbers?”

“That’s counting, but with bigger numbers.”

“Can you subtract it again?”

“Yes.” Hyrule answers slowly.

“Can you multiply?”

The traveler stares at Warriors nervously. “I just told you I don’t know what that is.”

The captain, bless his heart, looks genuinely hurt. “Good grief, what sort of mentor is Legend? Not making sure you know basic multiplication?”

And Hyrule flushes, but his brows furrow as he pushes himself straight, always defensive of his mentor. “He didn’t know, and he’s a great mentor! He’s been showing me how to grow trees!”

“Legend knows forestry?” The captain starts.

“He has an orchard.” Twilight reminds him, light laughter bubbling in his chest at the understanding that crosses Warriors’ face at the words.

“Right.” The captain turns to Hyrule. “How about this, Legend can teach whatever it is he teaches you, but when he’s done with that for the day, you come find me? Math is a wonderful thing, even if it is a tad complex, and it'd be a shame to let you go without knowing it.”

Betrayal makes itself known as Twilight pulls away from the two. “You like math?”

Horror blooms on Warriors’ delicate features. “You don’t?”

“Arithmetic is the bane of my existence and if I didn’t need to know how to count rupees, I would willingly forget it.” Twilight spits out.

“It’s wonderful!” Warriors defends. “Everything makes sense and has a logical explanation! You can count on it having an answer every time.”

One dark brow raises as midnight blue stare back at the captain, unimpressed. “Except when it doesn’t. Except when you have to graph equations but you can’t because they don’t have answers. Except when there’s two missing numbers and nothing fits in together, except when the numbers decide to become letters and you have to spit up the alphabet along with your equations.”

“How much math do you know?” Warriors raises a brow.

“Too much.” He isn’t even ashamed of the shudder that makes his pelt tickle against his cheeks. “Wild is a literal genius at it, and I can’t even number how many time he's decided to use it to explain some hare-brained scheme. Trajectory and angles and-” He shivers again. “No thank you. It’s like he ate a math textbook and just keeps spitting it back up, every time he wants to do something dumb.”

The captain whistles lowly, royal blue eyes sparkling. “You mean he has theories and reasoning behind all that? Dang!”

The glare shot the captain’s way is nothing short of threatening. “Do not encourage him, or so help me, Wars. I can hardly contain him some days as is, he doesn’t need someone else egging him on.”

“Oh, trust me,” Gloved hands raise in a non-threatening motion. “I just want to pic his brain, maybe he can help me tutor the traveler here.”

And Twilight almost asks him not too, almost begs that the captain not, before realization hits. “You know, that is actually a good idea.” He smirks. “I’m surprised.”

The deadpan look he receives is well worth it. “You wound me.”

“Were your skin not so delicate, I wouldn’t.” He returns, smile stretching wider. “But that aside, if Wild is busy tutoring Hyrule, he won’t be off blowing things up, and if Hyrule gets a better education out of it that's even better.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Hyrule answers, eyes lighting up in a way that looks innocent, but considering the kid is Legend’s descendant there’s a very good chance that it isn’t fully. “Maybe he can teach me some tricks while he’s at it.”

“No!” The voices ring at once, but it’s already too late, Hyrule is tapping his chin and muttering low under his breath as a wide smile stretches over his face.

“What have you started.” Twilight whispers, horrified.

“I’m sorry.” Warriors returns, just as grim. “I won’t tell Legend if you don’t.”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu hyrule #Hyrule never went to school #Twilight didn't either #they're smart but they haven't got education #wars likes math #twi hates math #math gives his protege excuses to go hogwild #wild is a genius of science and math #change my mind

83 notes · View notes

beskarhearts · 4 years ago

Text

Three Times (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series Pt. 10

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, sexual tension (I think that’s it but let me know if I missed any)

Word count: just over 9.0 K

Summary: It’s now been three times that Din Djarin has almost kissed you and you are going insane.

Notes: I did not plan on this coming out any time soon but I’ve spent all day ignoring my responsibilities and writing this. And I am too excited to wait so surprise shawty! Please please please tell me what you all think!

Previous Part ____ Next Part

_______________________________________________

Being back with Din and the child was the biggest relief, especially now that there were no secrets.

For the first time in a long time, you felt good. Like truly good. You had accepted what you were and made a compromise: you didn’t have the proper training to be a Jedi, nor did you know if you were ready for that, but if you needed to use the Force to protect your family, you could be okay with that. Din had reasoned it was no different than him using his armor, which you supposed in some way was technically true.

You also felt more at peace than you had since your family passed away. Being able to properly say goodbye to your family on Jakku, and able to share fond memories with Din, had been exactly what your soul needed. You had also realized when you were there that you could feel that your family was always with you. They were part of the Force now, meaning they were always there. So every-time you felt joy, you no longer felt guilt nagging at you because they were there with you, seeing it.

Now you were with your family and you don’t think you’d ever been quite so happy. You and Din left Jakku and things were back to normal. But it was even better because now there was no wall up between you and the Mandalorian. He accepted who you were and you accepted who he was.

It had been a few days since you were reunited with Din and everything was perfect. Well, almost perfect.

There seemed to be only one problem: Din Djarin was driving you crazy.

When it first happened, you thought maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe making up false fantasies in your head and projecting them onto Din. All just a figment of your imagination.

Then it happened again.

And again.

And you were completely sure that you were not nuts or looking into anything. It couldn’t be a coincidence when it happened three damn times within the span of a few days. It had to be purposeful. Din wasn’t accidentally doing this. And now, you felt like you were constantly on the edge of your seat, waiting for some big climax that wasn’t happening, for reasons unbeknownst to you.

So you were left with one question.

Why the hell had Din Djarin almost kissed you three times but never actually done it?

___________________

The First Time

Din and you now had a new routine. Every night at dinner, you’d feed the child first and then get him to hang out in his hover pram afterwards, keeping him occupied with a toy until he drifted into a small nap. Then Din would come down to the hull and you’d sit together on the floor of it. Din would insist you eat first so you’d do so. Once you were done, the kid would usually be asleep and you’d close the lid to his pram before Din handed you the scarf he always had wrapped around his neck. You’d take a seat across from him, wrap the fabric around your eyes, and then he’d eat.

It had been a long time since you’ve shared a meal with someone regularly. And you would guess that Din probably had never done so, or at least not on a regular basis. And sure, it wasn’t normal and the helmet made it more complicated, but it was the closest to normal you could get. So you were fine with it. Loved it even. It was one of your favorite parts of the day. Din now got to enjoy at least one meal a day, eating it normally rather than hiding away to do so and scarfing it down as quickly as possible. In return for wearing the blindfold, you got to the hear his voice which you still swore was one of your favorite noises in the world. Sometimes he wouldn’t even be talking but you could hear his breathing, a small hum leave his lips, or something small like that and it felt like a gift.

Tonight was no different. The child was in his pram, your blindfold was on, and Din was eating away at the portions you had. Not the most amazing meal, but it made it better being with him. You sat with your back against the wall, Din next to you eating. His thighs were touching yours, shoulders crammed together, but he didn’t move and you didn’t mind the contact so nor did you.

“You smell nice.”

You felt your eyebrows quirk up at the random compliment. You two had been relatively quite tonight, just enjoying each other’s presence. This was the first thing he had said in a while and you couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. “What?”

“Sorry.” You heard the sheepish edge to his tone and you blindly reached a hand out, patting his knee reassuringly.

“Oh no, please continue.” You said with a smile and heard a huff.

“You are teasing me.”

You paused and suddenly felt a little rude. He was being nice. That was a good compliment. I mean, you never really took much interest in your own scent but you had noticed how Din smelled. It was earthy and warm and dusted in cinnamon. “You smell nice, too.”

You heard Din snort at that. “Okay.” He sarcastically said and you let out a scoff.

“I’m not just saying that! You do. You smell nice. Like cinnamon and wood and manly stuff.”

“Manly stuff?” You felt yourself flush as he repeated your own words but you just nodded your head, hopefully aiming yourself towards his face.

“Yeah. But good manly stuff.”

“Hmmm.” You heard Din hum. “You smell clean.”

“Thank... you?”

“It’s nice. Like fresh laundry.” You heard him take a bite before continuing, “And honey.”

You smiled warmly at his description. You don’t know if you ever realized that but it warmed your heart to hear Din say it, in some weird way. “Well thank you.”

Din was quiet for a while but you didn’t hear him take anymore bites. It was just complete silence and if it weren’t for his body pressed against your side, you would of been convinced he wasn’t there. You went to say something until you heard him speak. “You look nice too.”

A warm feeling filled in your chest at the words. The compliment was so inherently Din: short and to the point with a bit of that endearing awkwardness that he had sometimes from lack of experience with others. You knew you were smiling stupidly and your face felt flushed, though you hoped it was covered enough by the blindfold for Din to not notice. You brought your hands together, your fingers twirling together as you awkwardly chuckled. You didn’t know what to say so you just settled on a small, “Thank you.”

“You have a nice smile. It’s big and bright, like you.” You were about to say something but he continued on before you had the chance. “And I like the way your hair feels. It’s soft.”

You were feeling yourself get more and more flustered as he continued. You weren’t used to a lot of compliments. You remembered the first time Din had called you beautiful but that was when he saw your scars for the first time, and you assumed it was partly said to be nice. But now hearing Din express this made you shift in the spot you sat in. “Din-“

“And whenever you concentrate on something or think about something, you bite your bottom lip. By the time you finish something that is kicking your ass, your lip is all red.”

You had never even realized you had done that. It seemed like such a small thing no one would notice about a person. But of course Din noticed. He seemed to notice everything. “Din, you can-“

“Your lips.” You froze at the two words, waiting for him to continue but he paused. You turned your head in his direction and he was close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt him brush some fingers against your chin, angling your face up more. “They look sweet.”

Holy shit, you could not handle this. You felt your hands begin to shake slightly as you waited for anything. For more sweet nothings to drip off his lips like honey, for his calloused fingers to brush against the angle of your chin, for his breath to get closer and closer. Anything to satisfy the desperate ache you felt in your chest. As the silence you dumbly let out a small, “So do you.” Your brain didn’t even process what you were saying and you felt yourself cringe at the stupidity leaving your lips.

“You’ve never seen me.”

You felt yourself bite down slowly on your bottom lip, now aware of the habit of yours. “Uh, it’s an educated guess.”

You heard a chuckle come from him, the sound sending waves through your body. A hand finally met your face, wrapping around your chin lightly as it was angled just a little bit higher. If he just leaned forward, just the tiniest bit, he’d probably be kissing you. He was already so close. Just one more movement. Maybe you could even close the distance, though you weren’t sure if you were brave enough and didn’t want to do something stupid since you were blindfolded.

You felt Din shuffle, moving slightly until your heard a small clang and his hand yank away quickly. “Dank farrik.” He hissed and you felt your whole body sag as he moved away.

“W-what happened?” You felt numb still and were barely able to mutter out the words.

“I just spilled something. I’ve got to clean it.”

That was when you heard the soft yelling from the pram where the child slept. It was muffled since it was closed, but it was distinct. “You put your helmet on and get the kid. I’ll clean the mess.”

“But-“ Din cut short before letting out a grunt. “Okay.”

It was only a matter of seconds before he gently was pulling the scarf off your face. You blinked a couple times as your vision adjusted, looking at him as his helmet looked down at you. You could feel how warm your face was still, how your hands still trembled just oh so slightly. You gave him a soft smile before nodding at him.

He rose up from where he was hunched down, bringing his body up as he walked over to where the pram was. Opening the lid, the child immediately stuck his pouty little face out. You almost could laugh at the pathetic expression on his face if it weren’t for the way you still felt like your mind was racing.

You were pretty sure that Din was going to do it. Was going to kiss you. You could curse the galaxy for intervening. What if that was a one-time thing? What if he never tried again?

You brushed your hair behind your ear, leaning forward to clean the mess while your mind raced with thoughts of Dins fingers on your chin and a pair of lips you’ve never even seen landing on yours.

___________________

The Second Time

It was the next night and things were going very smoothly. You and Din had dinner as usual. The kid fell asleep without a problem, which was a blessing because he had been going through a rough patch where he screamed for hours until he eventually wore himself out enough that he just passed out. You had gotten a shower in before climbing into the cockpit where Din was sat as usual, waiting for you. You padded over to the passenger seat, plopping down onto it with a relaxed sigh. Din looked over at you, his helmet glancing up and down your figure before it settled onto your face.

You liked to imagine what he looked like under it. You wondered if he was returning the small smile you gave him and if so, what did it look like? Did he have dimples? Did his eyes crinkle when he did so? You wanted to know so desperately what he looked like but you never wanted to disrespect his creed or make him think you cared about such trivial things. Because in the end, you didn’t really care what Din looked like under the helmet. No matter what he looked like, he was still your Din and that was all that really mattered. But that still didn’t quell the burning curiosity. You wanted to know what the man you respected and loved so much looked like, just so you could envision him a little clearer in your mind.

“What are you thinking about, sweet one?”

You looked away from his intense stare. “I just sometimes... wonder what you look like is all.” You suddenly became flustered and rushed to say something else. “But I don’t care. I’d never disrespect your creed and it doesn’t really matter what you look like. You could be the ugliest person in the galaxy and that’d be fine. Not that you are ugly. Although I don’t know. But I am sure you aren’t ugly. Probably very nice looking actually but I wouldn’t know so who really-”

“Stop.” Din let out a chuckle as you stopped talking, feeling your face heat up from your nervous blubbering. “It’s okay. It’s only natural.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, his helmet still aimed towards you. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” Din shuffled in his seat, before tearing his gaze away. His hand clutched onto a control, not even doing anything with it but just holding onto it tightly. “You can... ask questions. That isn’t against the creed.”

You felt a grin begin to grow on your face. Maker, you had always wanted to ask him questions but you never wanted to be rude or overstep your boundaries. But here was explicit permission and you felt your brain come up with so many things to ask hi,. You wanted to know everything but you just started with one. “How old are you?”

This was necessarily directly about how he looked, but you realized not so long ago that you had never asked him. He didn’t sound old and his body was in good shape. “Older than you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up at the answer. You honestly thought he probably was around your age, not much older if at all. What if this whole time you were stupidly pining for a man who was too old for you? “How much older?”

“Not too much. But enough.” He grunted and you narrowed your eyes at the nondescript answer.

“Hmmm. Okay.” You strummed your fingers against your thigh before settling onto your next question. “Do you have hair?”

“Yes.”

“Like on your head? Or your face?”

“I have hair on my head. Sometimes on my face.” You felt yourself swoon at the idea of him with facial hair. Maybe a nice patch above his lip or maybe stubble dotting his chin. How you would love to feel his hair, even if just for a second. Run your fingers through it. Maybe feel it against your skin...

Your train of thought was broken as Din looked over at you and you clammed up, realizing you were spending an inappropriate amount of time thinking about his hair. You didn’t even know what it looked like and it was already driving you wild. “Um. Okay. Is it soft?”

Is it soft? What kind of question was that? You almost brought a hand to cover your face but you heard Din chuckle at the lame question. “Is it soft?” he repeated, in a teasing tone.

You looked away from him with a flushed face. “Oh, never mind. That was a stupid question.”

Silence filled the cockpit as Din looked away from you and back to the control panel. “Do you,” Din paused and you barely looked at him from the corner of your eye, seeing the way his body seemed to clench up. “Do you want to feel it?”

You couldn’t help the way your head whipped to face him directly, your eyes widening. Maker, you couldn’t think of anything you would rather do in this moment (besides maybe kiss him). You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, just slowly nodding in a trance-like nature before mumbling out something along the lines of “yes please.”

Din nodded and took his hands away from the panel, settling them on his neck to tug at the fabric. “Come over here.”

You surprised yourself by how quickly you stood from your seat, despite the way your whole body felt numb at the interaction. Din stood up as well, the scarf finally in his hands as he faced you. You stood in front of him, trying to hide the excitement you were feeling but failing to do so with the glint in your eye. Din gave you a nod, which you returned, before he brought the scarf up to your eyes. It usually smelled like him, earthy and like cinnamon, but it seemed even stronger today. You didn’t know if it was because all your senses were going into hyperdrive because of what was about to happen or if he did something different, but you took what you hoped to be a subtle deep breath in as he finished tying it off. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You said clearly, waiting for the sound of his helmet being removed. The hiss and click of it filled the silence of the cockpit a matter of seconds later and you heard him place it somewhere, probably on his seat. A pair of hands reached out to grab at yours. You were surprised by them. They were Din’s hands, covered in the gloves he usually wore like normal. But you could feel the way they were shaking slightly, the way they held onto yours a little tighter in order to steady them. “Din, we don’t-”

“No, it’s fine. I just...” He trailed off and you shook your head understandingly. You wondered when the last time Din’s face had been touched, especially by a loving hand. Had it been a friend or his mother? You couldn’t imagine he hadn’t had one loving touch since his family died all those years ago but you supposed it could be possible. He had told you he never took his helmet off in front of people, until you.

“It’s okay.” You whispered quietly, letting him guide your hands at his own pace and not rushing him. You wanted him to be comfortable and be in a safe environment. He could go at his own speed, no matter how much your fingers itched with desperation.

Din slowly started to bring your hands up higher, going at an excruciatingly slow pace that made your chest tighten up. But this wasn’t about you. It was about Din. They could feel him trail upwards, feeling your fingers graze the cool metal of his chest plate as they moved higher and higher. Din brought them to his shoulders, still clad in armor, and he placed them there. Resting your hands against him, he brought his hands away, placing them down at his side. You heard him breathing, the steady in and out slowing down slightly and relaxing. You kept your hands where he had put them, letting your fingers just barely grip onto the metal sat upon each shoulder. You spent a few moments like this before he said, “Okay.”

You brought your hands up just slightly, waiting to see if he’d stop you but when he didn’t interrupt, you allowed yourself to slowly continue on. When your fingers finally grazed the warm skin of his neck, you heard Din suck in a breath and pulled away quickly. You were surprised as his hands quickly grasped onto yours, bringing them back to the place you had torn them away from. “Din?”

“It’s okay.” He reassured you and you nodded at him, wondering if he was looking at you. You let the tips of your fingers trail up, the warmness of his neck dancing on your flesh. You felt your hands rise up more and more before they landed on a ridge. It was his jaw and Maker, he had stubble. You sucked in your own breath, your bottom lip being sucked in between your teeth, as you allowed more of your hand to reach out. You slowly grasped onto his jaw, feeling the angular curves of it. It was strong, angled, and deep. The hair nipped at your hand but you continue bringing it cross his chin. You felt a small patch of skin amidst all the short hairs, bring a finger to rub at it lightly as a shy smile graced your face. The hair on his chin nipped at your finger lightly, almost tickling your skin, but you didn’t mind.

Din stood completely still, the only sound he made being the steady in and out of his breathing. You continued feeling your way around his jaw when a light touch grabbed onto one of your arms. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, the way his gloved thumb lazily draw circles into the bare skin. It was almost too much for you: how warm his skin was under your hand and the way the spot on your wrist seemed to tingle as Din touched it. You almost felt the need to say something but determined this moment was too pure for words. Nothing had to be said. You just needed to feel.

You finally brought your hands off of Din’s chin, to which you swore you heard a small whine leave his lips that caused your face to blush a violent shade of red. Instead of bringing his hands back to your skin, he allowed you to wrap a hand to the back of his neck, feel at the small strands of hair that led up higher and higher to his hair. You lightly grasped onto the nape of his neck, to which you definitely heard him let out a small gasp and you paused your movements, not moving away but giving him a second. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.” Din just barely whispered, so silent that you swore you wouldn’t have been able to hear it if it weren’t for how quiet it was and how your ears tried to compensate for the way you couldn’t see. You hummed back to him as your let your fingers splay out onto the skin of his neck. You slowly let your hand drift up, your fingers beginning to drive into his hair. Your other hand reached up to his face, laid out onto his cheek which you felt his physically lean into. The skin of his face was peppered with stubble and you could feel a few indents into the skin, probably from the life of fighting he has lived. His skin was rough, felt masculine and raw, but it was also so warm and soft. It made the flesh of your hand tingle, your fingers cupping his face even more.

Your other hand moved higher before tangling into his hair. It was longer than you had expected and probably messy from his helmet and your wandering hands, but it was so soft. “Din, you are so beautiful.” You muttered.

You felt Din freeze before you, the hand still on your wrist no longer rubbing circles. You almost worried you had done something wrong until his other hand reached out to your waist, grabbing onto it and tugging you closer to him. You chest was now pressed against his, both of your faces so close to each other that you were practically sharing air. Your grip on him tightened slightly, feeling the way he let out a deep breath. “Sweet one...”

His said it so quietly but it was like a song flowing out of him. You brought his face down with your hand, bringing your forehead against his. You had done it so many times before when he had the helmet on but never was it your skin against his. “How did you know?”

You furrowed your brows at his question. “Know what?”

His breath fanned over your face. “When you press your forehead against mine... The Mandalorians do that as a form of affection.” You had never known that. It just felt like the natural thing to do with him since the helmet posed such a barrier. Just a gentle tap seemed like a reassuring way to provide comfort to him. “It’s called a Keldabe kiss.”

Your hand twisted into his hair more and his grip onto your waist became even tighter. “Oh.” you gently said, your foreheads both pressing against each other even more, you standing on the tips of your toes slightly to try to get closer. Both of your noses brushed against each others and you could almost cry because of how beautiful the moment was. How comforting and breath taking it felt to be so close to Din.

He nuzzled his face against yours even more, his nose touching yours. His lips were so close, all he had to do was lean forward. Fuck it, all you had to do was lean forward.

Just as your were about to lean into him, you felt the fabric of the scarf begin to slip down from behind your head. You clasped your eyes shut tight, ripping your hands away from Din and bringing them to hold the fabric back up. “Kriff.”

Your hands shook wildly and your heart was pounding even harder in your chest than before. You heard some movement, followed by the hiss and click of the helmet being put on. But you still couldn’t bring yourself to move your hands away. You just felt your chest rapidly inhale and exhale and Din’s labored breathing fill the silence. That was so close. You could of ruined Din’s creed, his whole entire life, in just a matter of seconds. “I’m so sorry.” you let out.

Din sighed and you finally pulled the fabric down, looking over at where he stood by his chair. He was looking down at the ground rather than you and simply shook his head. “I didn’t tie it well. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I offered. It’s fine.” Din’s helmet tilted up towards you. “We should probably sleep.”

You nodded, feeling your flushed cheeks begin to cool and your breathing ease into normality. “Yeah.”

___________________

The Third Time

You and Din weren’t quite so lucky the next night.

The child was back to crying into the latest hours of the night. You usually had a pretty good read on the kid. You could detect the smallest of subtleties of each sound or face he made. You knew whether he was hungry, tired, bored, or agitated. Din had told you once that you seemed to always know what he needed and you supposed that was true. But tonight was not that kind of night.

The child had been screaming. For hours now. You and Din had tried everything. You fed him his favorites food and while it would silence him for a while, the tears would just rage on once he was done eating. You had both taken shifts, holding him and rocking him but that didn’t seem to calm him, in some cases the smothering just seemed to bother him even more. You had given him toys, given him the ball from the ship he loved, sang songs, danced for him, tried to play hide and seek. You had tried anything he had ever expressed liking before but nothing worked. The best you could get was an exasperated look from the kid, like he was judging you for your lack of success.

Din and you were losing it. It was so late and you both were absolutely floored. You couldn’t think of one thing to stop the screaming. Until Din suggested you two just let him rage on. He had placed the kid in the pram, leaving the lid off, and sat down on the floor beside you. The kid’s screaming continued but he didn’t say anything or try to provide comfort. Din and you just let it keep going. At this point, you just hoped he would wear himself out or realize he was going to receive no attention from you two and stop his tantrum.

That didn’t stop it for hours though. At one point you had told Din you needed to do something but he made the great point that there was nothing to do. Absolutely nothing would calm the kids hostile attitude and logically, he had to fall asleep at some point. He was going off steam at this point, not having slept since the night before and using so much energy being a complete womp rat. He needed to pass out eventually from pure exhaustion.

You and Din both sat on the floor, eyes hooded and bodies limp. You two were drained, not even bothering to try to speak over the hysterics, and your minds were like blank slates. You didn’t think or move. Just zoned out completely.

Zoned out so much that you drowned out the yells being emitted from the child until you were torn away from it. Wait a second. You lifted your head from where it was limply laying against the wall, bringing yourself to stand up slowly. You looked over at the pram and sure enough, the crying had stopped. The child was laid back, arms splayed out, having finally worn himself out enough to sleep. His small body rose and fell, eyes fluttering slightly as he made small, sleepy noises. If the kid hadn’t acted like such a demon for hours now, you would of thought the scene was so endearing, the maternal part of you flooding with happiness at the little child so soundly and peacefully asleep. But instead you just felt relief and utter joy, sleep-deprived joy, but joy nonetheless.

“Holy shit.” You whispered out, looking over at Din.

Din still sat against the floor, his helmet leaning forward so the bottom of it leaned against his chest, no longer wearing his armor but his usual pajamas. He had tried to sleep earlier since you claimed you had it under control, but he had shortly realized you certainly did not have it under control, nor would he be able to hear with all the noise. He didn’t even bother to move at the sound of your voice, just grunting and letting out a exhausted “What?”

“Shhh.” Din finally looked up as your hissed and raised his head, looking into the pram floating a few feet from him. You couldn’t see him but you could see his shoulders perk up as he realized the child had finally fallen asleep. “I can’t believe he is asleep.”

Din slowly rose from his spot on the floor, not wanting to make any unnecessary noises that could wake him up. He carefully stepped towards the pram, stopping right behind you. You felt his hand grab at your wrist, slowly pulling you away gently from where the pram was. “C’mon.” His whispered as quietly as he could with the helmet on, his voice deep and sleepy through the modulator.

You turned around, away from the child, and let Din lead you, letting your body limply follow him to the entrance of his cot. He gestured his head for your to enter and you didn’t even bother to argue, crawling in. You let your body fall into the padding of it. His bed wasn’t too comfortable but it was better than the sleep-away one you normally used. It also smelled like Din and one of the blankets you two had gotten from the marketplace was laid out on it. You brought the fabric around your waist, letting the warmth of it sink into you. You didn’t look up but felt Din shuffle into the small cot behind you. The two of you in the same cot was a bit silly, since it was so small and you two had to be so close to each other, but you didn’t mind. Shortly after he crawled in, the door to it shut, blocking out all the light as you heard the hiss of his helmet being removed. You smiled as you snuggled into the bed more, whispering “I can’t believe the womp rat fell asleep.”

Din let out a quiet chuckle as he placed his helmet down, bringing himself down onto the bed, laying on his side with his chest pressed against your shoulder. You began to move, trying to shuffle a little bit away as to give Din more room to relax, but instead you scooted back rather ungracefully, your head slapping into the metal that encapsulated the bed. The noise was loud enough that you and Din both sucked in a breath, waiting for the kids screaming from earlier to resume. You waited a few moments and were pleasantly surprised when you were met with silence. “Be quiet, cyar’ika.” Din quietly scolded.

“Sorry. I didn’t try to slam my head into the wall.” You sarcastically responded and both of you let out a small laugh at the response. You couldn’t see a thing, but felt a shift, his body suddenly dragging over yours. He hovered over you, his body weight being held up by his forearms which rested on each side of you. You felt his warm breath fan over your face and smiled as you felt the lower half of his body press slightly into yours. One of his hands reached out to touch your head.

“You okay?” His fingers rubbed at your scalp slightly, a gentle movement that made you let out a hum. You would usually find yourself nervous with Din this close to you but you were too tired and too happy to find it in yourself. Instead you just lazily smiled as you felt him rub the spot where you had hit your head. It hadn’t hurt much, but his touch was so relaxing, easing away any discomfort that may have been. You just felt at home, like this was the right place for you to be in. You found yourself thanking the Maker as you leaned into his touch, so grateful he had come back for you. You don’t know how you could of ever lived without this.

Din’s head suddenly brushed back the side of your face and you felt a strand of hair tickle at your face. You didn’t even think when you brought a hand up, tangling your fingers into his hairs like his were in yours, rubbing slowly into it like you had done the night before. You heard Din let out a small noise at the contact, his face moving down closer to the side of your head. His lips just grazed the shell of your ear, whispering “You are so sweet.”

Your breath hitched a little at the feeling of him whispering in your ear, his voice completely overtaking you. His head moved a little and you gasp when his cheek grazed yours. The stubble your fingers had touched just the night before now grazed your cheek ever so slightly, enough that it didn’t burn but just seemed to tickle in the most pleasant way. “Din...”

You didn’t have anything to really say but you just wanted to feel his name on your lips and his skin touch yours. One of his hands landed on your hip and you whimpered at the contact. “You are beautiful, y’know?”

His voice was so deep and enveloped all your senses. You could still hear the weariness in it, but there was something else. Affection. You let yourself smile, bring your other hand to Din’s arm, grasping lightly onto his bicep and feeling the curve of his muscle. He wasn’t overwhelmingly muscular, but strong enough that you could feel it. Strong enough to make you feel safe in his arms. “Y-yeah?”

Speaking felt like the most difficult task. You couldn’t find it in yourself to say some snarky comment even if you wanted to. You were so tired and so overwhelmed by him. He smelled like cinnamon and bark. His touch was hot on your skin, his breath fanning over you face, cool and inviting. Every single one of your senses was just focused on Din.

“Yeah.” Din grumbled and you finally felt his lips meet your face, just barely grazing your forehead but enough for you to feel it. His lips were so soft, a welcome sensation. His hand on your hip lifted a second before you felt your clothes shift a little and then his hand was back in the same place, but bare skin underneath his fingers. You tried to hold back a whimper at the sensation, feeling weak at his touch. His thumb rubbed circles into the flesh and you didn’t dare move, not wanting him to stop. His other hand was still tangled in your hair, rubbing at your scalp with such tenderness.

You continued running your hands through his hair when you felt his nose brush against yours. You knew his lips were so close to yours and it took everything in you to not reach up and connect them. “Maker, I can’t even believe you’re real...”

You let out a sigh at his words, your other hand on his arm trailing upwards and wrapping around the back of his neck. You held him close to you as your legs tangled together, like you were becoming one being.

You felt him let out a big breath. You were slightly disappointed when his face drifted away, wanting him to kiss you so desperately you thought you would die if he didn’t. But instead you let out a gasp when you felt his lips press against the edge of your chin. Din’s other hand retreated from your hand, reaching down for the other side of your hip, both hands planted on you. His body weight shifted, his chest now pressing against yours more. The feeling of his lips on your skin was warm and short but it absolutely clouded your mind. You wanted more. No, needed more.

Dins lips once again pressed against you, this time a little lower and you tilted your neck up, giving him more room. “Din?”

“Yes, sweet one?” He whispered the words against your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine.

“Please.”

“What?”

“Just k-” That’s when the wailing began and you couldn’t help but to let out a small, “shit.”

Din suddenly lifted himself off you and you nearly whined at the loss of contact. You were so close to just telling him to kiss you. And he had felt so nice and of course, the child had to interrupt it. You heard Din clear his throat before he reached over, grabbing his helmet which was attached once again with a click. “I’ll go take care of it.”

The door to his bed opened and he slid off the cot, giving you one more glance over before he turned around to take care of the kid. You groaned quietly as you brought a hand to your face.

Your other hand reached for your neck, feeling how warm the flesh was where he had kissed it. You were loosing your mind. This was now the third time, where you had been so close to almost kissing him. And you swore you were on the verge of just telling him to get it over with.

But tonight wasn’t the night. Instead, you’d just try to sleep and hope tomorrow the child would be less of a gremlin.

___________________

You looked at the child who sat in his pram, dreary eyes looking up at you as he let out a yawn. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, arms crossed over your chest as you studied him. Last night he had finally fallen asleep, but only with Din holding him so Din had spent the night away from you, laying on the cot you had normally slept on with the child. Now the whole day the kid had been suspiciously well behaved. And now that it was night, and a reasonable time, he was sleepy. You supposed it was logically because of how little sleep he had gotten last night, but you still felt suspicious at the way he blinked up at you slowly, eyes drawing to a close before fluttering open.

“Listen, kid.” The child looked up at you sleepily, a small smile growing as he looked up at you. “You need to behave tonight. And sleep. Because I need your dad to finally just kiss me and you’ve interrupted two times now.”

The child’s expression didn’t change but he let a sleepy giggle out to which you frowned. “If you are good, I will let you eat my serving of chowder tomorrow, okay?”

The child’s ears perked up slightly at the mention of chowder and he laid back against the blanket in his pram, his eyes drifting closed. “Womp rat, good night.” You closed the lid to his pram, beginning to walk towards the ladder of the Crest when you bumped into Din behind you. Your hand flew to your chest, feeling yourself jump as you realized he was there. “Maker, how long were you there?”

You asked the question without much thought until you felt your face bloom red when you realized what you had just told the child. Because I need your dad to finally just kiss me. You looked up to Din’s helmet which was tilted down at you and felt your eyes widen just the smallest bit. Oh, Maker, please don’t say he heard it.

“Just came down. Heard you offer your chowder to the kid.”

You felt relief wash over you as you let out an awkward chuckle. “Hah, yeah. Anything to not have a repeat of last night.”

You slowly drifted away from the pram, towards the center of the hull of the ship. Din followed you, his boots tapping against the floor but it didn’t seem to disturb the child. You waited for Din to say something but he just stared back at you, arms crossed over his chest. You uncomfortably smiled at him, feeling uneasy with the way he was looking at you. “You are probably exhausted. We should go to sleep.” You said, hoping he would stop looking at you but to no avail.

“Last couple days with the kid has been rough.” He finally said and you nodded empathically. Rough was an understatement. You weren’t sure if it was a growth spurt, or perhaps instead of his terrible twos it was his frightening fifties. But either way, it had been a hard time.

“Yeah. Definitely not great.” You said. You copied his own stance, crossing your own arms over your chest and looking over at him.

“And very inconvenient.” He responded.

You froze in your spot, looking at him. Very inconvenient indeed. Especially for things like kissing. “Yup.”

“I don’t think I am going to be able to sleep.”

You couldn’t imagine how. Din had been up for as long as you had, having slept on your crappy cot last night instead of his bed. It was impossible that he wasn’t worn out. “Why?”

“I need to do something.”

You huffed. Din was always one to keep busy, always having something to do whether it was cleaning his weapons or doing something with the Crest. But he needed to finally just relax. Both of you did. “I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

You finally moved, plopping down on your cot in the corner of the hull. Din just stepped towards you more, arms still held over his chest. “It’s waited long enough.”

“Oh really, what super important Mando stuff do you have to do now?” You sarcastically responded, beginning to pull away at the laces of the boots you wore. Your body was so sore and your mind was running at about half of what it usually was. You looked up at Din and frowned when he just stood over you, not saying anything. “Din, what are you doing?”

Din sighed and muttered out, “Sweet one.”

That was when you felt it. The tension in the room. It had been there for days now, ever since Din had almost kissed you during dinner than one night. It consumed every single thought you had, clouded over every conversation you had with Din. Made every touch even more electrical than usual. Every casual turn of his helmet made your chest clench. Every time you looked at him he got a little more rigid than usual. You both were waiting for the damn to break and for the tension to wash away. And hell, you both were trying your best but failing with every attempt.

You slowly rose up from your seat on the cot, standing in front of Din who was so close to you that your ankles were pressed against the padding of your bed. “W-what is it you have to do?”

Din tilted his helmet at you and you felt your face turn a shade of deep crimson. You were pretty sure you knew the answer. At least you hoped to the Maker it was or this would be a very interesting situation. Din brought his hands up, beginning to take off each glove and you gulped. “Din...”

“Take off my scarf.”

You nodded slowly, taking a minute to process before reaching your hands up to his neck. You pulled the fabric slowly, letting it flow off him softly as it slipped from his neck to your fingers. “Put it on.”

You nodded again, not finding it in yourself to speak. You gave him one last look before wrapping the fabric around your eyes, tying it so tightly around your head that you was bound to give you a headache. But you couldn’t risk it almost falling off again. You were damned that nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to interrupt.

The hiss and click rang out and you felt your hands begin to shake as you heard a thud against the cot behind you, Din having tossed his helmet there. Din grabbed your hands, bare fingers gripping onto yours ever so lightly, before he placed them on his chest piece, the cool metal sending a shiver down your arms. “Din?”

“Yes?”

“Please just kiss me already.” You felt shock jolt through your body as the words slipped through your lips. Your jaw went slack at your own boldness. You waited for a response but only heard silence and begin to pull away. Oh my Maker. You had been wrong this whole time. It was all just imaginary and you were just wanting it to be real. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m just going to-”

“Cyar’ika.”

“That was so stupid. And embarrassing. Like woah, where did that come from?” You tried to laugh, show you were unbothered by the painful uncomfortableness of the situation, but you just let out a wheeze.

“I want to kiss you.”

You nearly choked on the air you were breathing when you heard Din speak. “Okay. Well then, no offense, but why aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but to ask the question that was plaguing your mind so often lately. You had given him permission. Why wasn’t he just doing it?

“Uh, well...” You heard him drift off and frowned under the blindfold. You brought your hands back up to chest, letting your fingers splay out on the broad expanse of the metal.

“Is everything okay?”

Yes, you wanted Din to kiss you. So badly. But you also wanted him to be comfortable. And you could hear the uneasiness in his voice. It was subtle but it was there. And you never wanted him to be uncomfortable around you, even if that meant not kissing him. You felt Din let out a deep breath. “I’ve never... kissed someone before.”

You couldn’t help the way your jaw hung open just the tiniest bit, the way your body froze in shock. You probably shouldn’t be so surprised. The helmet definitely did make things like this harder: you now knew that from experience. But you couldn’t imagine Din had never kissed someone before. Maybe it was naive but you couldn’t believe no one had wanted to kiss him and that he hadn’t gone out of his way to make it happen. “Is it against the creed?” You mumbled out, trying to find some reasoning that was logical to you.

Din nervously chuckled, bringing a hand to your wrist to once again rub circles into the skin. “No, not really.”

“Not to sound rude, but how?”

“I just never found anyone that was worth it, I guess.” You paused at the explanation. You supposed that was logical. Taking off the helmet, even to just kiss someone, posed a risk. You had to trust that the person wouldn’t try to sneak a peak or didn’t have some ulterior motive to kissing you. Being a Mandalorian made even the smallest things like this hard to experience normally and you suddenly felt yourself soften. “You are worth it though.”

You couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face, or the way you nervously but also giddily laughed. “Oh.” was all you managed to way but you trusted that Din could see your reaction and know what you were feeling.

“Just stay still, okay?” Din nervously asked.

“Okay.” You whispered. You felt his hand leave your wrist and both of them grab onto yours. He moved your hands from his chest to his neck, and you took it from there, wrapping them around the back of his neck, softly playing with the hairs there. Din let go, one hand dropping to your waist. His strong grip pulled you even closer, your bodies completely pressed together. The other hand grabbed lightly at your chin, his touch seeming to ghost over it.

He took a moment, just holding you against him, before he brought his hand to cup your cheek. “You okay?” He whispered.

You nodded. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” You heard the waiver in his voice and begin to rub circles into the back of his neck, feeling him calm slightly. He let his head drop a little, his forehead resting against yours as he took in deep breaths. You nuzzled your face up, your noses rubbing against each others and your breath caught in your throat as his lips just barely grazed over yours. Oh Maker it was already perfect.

“Din-”

“Shh.” You waited for the universe to mess with you. For the kid to begin screaming or for something to hit the ship. Anything to interrupt this moment but nothing happened. Silence consumed you both and all you could think about or feel or smell or hear was Din. It was all just Din.

Then his lips reached forward and you swore you couldn’t breath if you wanted to. They pressed against yours, lightly and gently at first. Just barely so but your lips molded into his, the shape of his seeming to fit yours like a key. You tighten your arms around him even more as he angled your face to deepen it, his lips moving just the tiniest bit. You felt yourself sigh in relief and his grip on your waist lightened.

You were right. Whenever you had thought about his lips, you’d always though they’d be rough but also soft. Gentle but strong. And despite it being his first kiss, you let him take control, let him move his lips against yours. Let his hand drift from your cheek to the other side of your hip, pulling you even closer to his body. He let out a small groan as he pressed into you even more, his lips moving against yours. You reciprocated, moving with him and you both seemed to naturally slip into a rhythm that didn’t require any explanation or talking. You tightened your grip around him more, bring your feet to the tips of your toes so you could press into him more. You needed more of him. You needed it like you needed air.

Din finally tore his lips away, not moving away from you but you just huffed as his forehead rested against yours again. You hadn’t breathed once when he was kissing you and now you felt the way your heart was racing, the way your blood seemed to boil. The way your chest was warm and tight, but in the most beautifully addicting way. “Din, are you sure you’ve never done that before because-”

He interrupted you, his lips pressing into yours again which you let out a gasp to. You both pressed even tighter, not knowing how it was possible. You felt him wrap his arms around your lower back, his hands pressing you closer to him. His lips just lightly nipped at yours for a second, swallowing you completely. You felt yourself sway into it, like it was a dance. You both leaned against one another and then you felt yourself lean back-

and fall. You both felt against your cot with a bang and you couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips as the biggest grin broke out onto your face. Din was pressed on top of you, his arms lifting his body weight a little. Your blindfold was still on, but you could feel the way he was looking at you. “Sorry.” he said and you laughed even more.

“I am not complaining.” You felt him lean into you more when the kid’s yelling began, obviously awaken by the loud clattering of you two falling down. “I should get him.”

Din pressed his lips into yours again, smiling into it. He pulled away the tiniest bit. “He can wait a minute.”

Then his lips pressed against yours and you wrapped yourself around him. Around the Mandalorian who you were now devoted to.

Tag List: @ilikethoseodds @dindaddy @poguesvixen @starspangledwidow @fangirlalexia @the-scandalorian @ka-x-in @keepcalmandblogstuff @the-lady-of-stars @orneryscandalousevil @spaghetti-666 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @the-darkempress @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfiction #mando #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine #sw

224 notes · View notes