#Crest of Reliability

[camleecomics]

Ikkakumon (Champion)

[thevirtualworld]

The Crest Of Reliability / Sincerity / Faithfulness ; Going by many names, this crest is held in the heart of those who, despite it all, keep going. The ones that toss it all to the wind, throwing themself into the fray on behalf of their heart, friends, or loved ones. Trustworthy and dependable, this crest can be held by anyone willing to hold it.

requested by @kakitysax || | X X X | - | X 🤍 X | - | X X X |

[digifandom]

Okay this might be a hot take but, I don't think the Crest of Sincerity shouldn't exist. I like the dub crest of reliability for Joe and the sub crest of purity for Mimi. At least to me they seem to fit the characters better. Like compare the meanings and-

Joe/Jyou

Let's use the whole situation with Takeru and his Mom. With the Crest of Sincerity the meaning of that scene is that he keeps his promise to protect Takeru to Ms. Takashi, therfore showing he is sincere in his promise. (Which is great, it does read) Yet when you watch it in the context of the Crest of Reliability then the scene isn't just a promise being fulfilled (simplifying ofc). Joe's character gimic is literally being a constantly anxious person (again simplifying) so the scene has more impact (imo) to Joe as a character due to it showing that nature of "this person that I care for is in trouble, I have to help him" and therefore showing that someone who has a lot of anxiety/fears is still a reliable person. Someone who despite of himself will still do everything he can when it comes down to it, to me that has a bigger impact. Feel free to give your own opinions I'm also open to different interpretations.

There is a counter arguement to be made with the example of Joe and Yamato fighting together at the restaurant and that episode showing how "sincere" Jyou is by telling Yamato the whole truth of him not messing up on purpose, but 1 that episode is supposed to showcase Yamato's trait of friendship more so than Jyou's trait of sincerity (don't get me wrong it does do both but still), and 2 that episode read with the Crest of Reliability still reads really well, especially as a set up for who Jyou is. The episode shows things going wrong time and time again, Joe messing up (even tho it's not his fault) it shows that side of him that counter acts his giving trait of reliability but still shows the effort he puts into be reliable and once again shows his resolve to do everything he can for those he cares for via being squished by veggiemon for Yamato. The episode shows peaks of him being reliable while still keeping the trait buried in other things as it's not his and Gomamon's time.

Mimi

For our pink loving queen let's use the episode of her princess Era (ya know the one where she needs to sing but Taichi has to slap some sense into her before she does). It makes sense that this scene reads better, or more deep, with the perspective of Purity rather than Sincerity (the og is showcasing Purity afterall) In the Dub the Crest of Sincerity is used as Mimi (just as in the Joe sub) keeping true to her promise, and it admittedly (again imo) works much better than Joe keeping his promise. It works better only due to the build up of Mimi not aligning with her trait, but the Purity (imo) is still better. The Purity crest in this scene is used to represent that Mimi is a caring person that wishes the best for others but also incredibly (albeit unintentionally) selfish. Mimi is a character who wants to be treated like royalty and she can be very unaware of what her actions bring to others or that they are morally wrong in any slight way, but it makes sense for her character as she is like 10 and when she does realize the harmfulnes of her own actions she stops and tries to be better. Purity in this sense is a trait of betterment, Purity is NOT supposed to represent Mimi as a character with an unwavering moral compass that's perfectly aligned to good, instead it's meant to showcase her trait of Purity is the sense that she has a heavily wavering moral compass, one that leads her to make bad decisions at times but she then improves herself from her mistakes. Purity is (self)betterment rather than perfectly clear/good.

Counter argument: Mimi saving the people when she first get palesmon to digivolve into lillymon. It's easy to say this doesn't showcase either, or that it showcases her sincere want save people, or that it shows how pure she is by wanting to save everyone (especially her parents). So let me just justify my interpretation of the Crest of Purity representing betterment rather than being pure of heart (aka my explanation that's not the 3rd option I just gave). To keep this short, this scene is pay off of past (self)betterment and the gateway to more (self)betterment. The payoff comes from Mimi holding her ground rather than just encouraging everyone to run and get out, it's her acting (something that she's grown to do). The gateway of this scene is the fact that she is still doing this still protecting these people because of her family, she still hesitates to fight (until the very end of the series she hesitates to fight) but everytime she gets better she reacts faster she gains more confidence to do what she has come to believe is right, protecting others.

Iori/Cody

Okay I won't go into as much detail with Yolei/Miyako and Iori/Cody. But Cody is a bit difficult to really define but I still wanna say the Crest of Reliability fits him best. When Cody has to lie when he gets his digitama and is choosen to be Joe susesor it's easy to see how it's supposed to represent the in-between of the Crest of Sincerity, how it's okay to lie if necessary and that you can still be an honest (sincere) person. But read it withthe Crest of Reliability and that message is still there but another layer get added to it, Iori at that moment is doing what he can to save his friends and he pulls through despite his own hesitations it shows that responsibility within in that also helps his character as someone who always does what their told by their elders, he was taught to be honest and goes against those teachings for those he cares for. To me that developed who Iori is as a character a lot more.

Miyako/Yolei

I feel as if the execution of both crest was well down with her, to the point that if it weren't for her being the successor of Mimi I would probably be more on the Sincerity Crest side. The episode that stands out to me is surprisingly not when she gets her digitama of Sincerity/Purity it's when she gets dragged with Ken and Hikari to the dark ocean. Specifically when she slaps Hikari, that slap and the speech she gives to Hikari read so well with the Crest of Sincerity in mind, Yolei is being honest with Hikari, she's talking about her feelings she's unbashfully being herself and admitting what she wishes for, admits her jealous of Hikari. She's sincere and in ture she brings out Hikari's genuine emotions. I think this is the best use of the Crest of Sincerity and that the scene doesn't read as good when read with the trait of Purity in mind. It still reads well which is why I still think Yolei should have the Crest of Purity because it reads well with either and therefore dependent on what work for Mimi (as again she's suppose to be Mimi's successor) But just bc I like Sincerity better in this case doesn't mean I won't give my arguement for Purity.

The Crest of Purity in this same scene is weaker (imo) but it does still work, my point with Mimi is that Purity is suppose to represent (self)betterment and this scene can be argued to show that. The first step at fixing a problem is acknowledging it, this scene is Miyako out right admitting to everything that she sees wrong with herself and wants to change, it's her not necessarily asking for help from Hikari but telling Hikari "Hey I wish I wasn't as stubborn as I am and knew how to listen to others like you do" and in response Hikari points out that their is a good side to Yolei not being able to do that. This scene in this context is about (self)betterment but specifically the steps to it such as accepting the problem and understanding the positives that should stay but the negatives that do need work.

Now some of the scenes I talked about weren't scenes the characters crest were a big deal in. So ...

Why Think about the Crest in a situation that the character isn't actively using it?

The Crest that the digidestined have are meant to represent a trait they have (an arguable exception is made with Hikari's Crest of Light and Daisuke's Crest of Miracles but I have theories on that for another time) meaning in every scene you should be able to see the trait in each character or the character struggling with their trait. It shouldn't matter when if it's a trait that their suppose to represent at all times,

Taichi being scared because Courage is overcoming fear

Yamato pushing people away because he struggles with receiving the friendship of others (but giving it as much)

Mimi being selfish because it's something she needs to better

Takeru putting on a brave face because even if he doesn't have hope he refuses to let those around him lose hope

Sora holding someone back because she loves the so much and doesn't want them to be hurt

The whole point of the digidestined's crest is that they have these traits so deeply ingrained in their actions, yes their human and don't always adbid by them but even that is still present in their actions.

Lol sorry for the rant, feel free to drop your own opinions, at the end of the day it's just personal preference and interpretation, pls reblog so others can vote!

[yaoifan20forgoodgirl28]

[nikki-tine]

Digicrest Project work - these were done last year, but better late than never in posting these here, right?

[slim-thick-masochist]

Another nerdy tattoo done today

[galionne-diging]

Would love to hear everyone's opinions and reasons why!

[randomnameless]

Ok the previous ask wasn't enough so more

Pan stuff:

Pan is actually a nickname, his original name has been lost to history.

He carries two swords with him: one forged by Indech/Macuil in WoH, other Loog's personal sword gifted to him when he left the kingdom to continue his travels.

His hair gradually lost colour over centuries. The once dark green had become a dull grey-green by the rebellion, and dark grey (darker than ashe's hair) by canon era.

He has never shared his crest with anyone, but has thought about giving it to Vestra I (because he's the only competent guy around) many times before dismissing the idea.

He joined Loog'n'Gang 2 years before the War of the Eagle and Lion (WoEaL) officially started. Back then they were gathering soldiers and resources, and testing the waters with small scale assaults.

Lizard hcs:

It's considered rude to not look away when someone is transforming, its the equivalent of watching someone change clothes.

The sacred weapons (assel, begalta, etc.) were named after previous, long dead nabateans, from heroes who fought against agarthans to artisans incredibly skilled in their craft.

Cichol loved humans more than the other nabateans. He loved hanging out in their cities and churches and whatnot. Everyone bullied Cichol when he grew a beard because its considered a human thing. Too bad for them he found a nabatean who shared his oddities and they fell in love.

- Lizard Pan anon

I will reply ask by ask because I don't trust Tumblr lol

Pan is actually a nickname, his original name has been lost to history.

Who gave him that nickname? A nabatean? Humans?

I always felt bad for Nabateans though, Seteth'n'Flayn must abandon their names - maybe the name Cethleann's mom picked for her! - for their safety, idk maybe it's me putting too much thoughts on the concept of identity, but like forgetting or having to hide your own name always makes me kind of sad.

He carries two swords with him: one forged by Indech/Macuil in WoH, other Loog's personal sword gifted to him when he left the kingdom to continue his travels.

Cool idea! One sword from his Nabatean family, and one sword from his human friends! is Pan the reason why Barney knows how to fight with 2 swords

is pan sekritly zoltan

His hair gradually lost colour over centuries. The once dark green had become a dull grey-green by the rebellion, and dark grey (darker than ashe's hair) by canon era.

Was the colour loss something "natural", like he grew old, or was it tied to his crest stone and the period of time when he lost his powers?

but he still has pointy ears, so that'd make him a target for Supreme Leader right?

He has never shared his crest with anyone, but has thought about giving it to Vestra I (because he's the only competent guy around) many times before dismissing the idea.

Poor Vestra 1, having to deal with Willy's stupid ideas (an Empire over all of Fodlan? And then what, you'll tell me Cethleann is actually a fearsome beast?) led him to import coffee (holy crap he was serious about this empire thing) - but maybe seeing Vestra 1 call Willy stupid but not outright dismissing him as an imbecile made Pan reconsider.

He joined Loog'n'Gang 2 years before the War of the Eagle and Lion (WoEaL) officially started. Back then they were gathering soldiers and resources, and testing the waters with small scale assaults

Ah I see!

TBH, I'm really curious about this, because while I understand this Pan doesn't hold children accountable for the sins of their ancestors, idk how he'd feel about the descendants of the Elites - on paper - rebelling against the Empire that was supposed to support Nabateans, are Elites wanting to seize more power again? Are they a threat against Nabateans? But then, if he lived with them and learnt they weren't trying to get new relics but just trying to survive while Lycaon III was chopping Northerners for funsies, it might have led him to reconsider.

Which makes me wonder, what is Pan's opinion on Rhea's plan (if he ever learns about it) ? Does he think only Sothis can save Fodlan, like her, or think she's desperate and wants to find a way out, or something else?

It's considered rude to not look away when someone is transforming, its the equivalent of watching someone change clothes.

...

I have flashbacks to the many times Rhea transforms in front of everyone, or even in Nopes, when she transformed in the middle of a battlefield. No one taught her basic Nabatean decency? What was Cichol doing?

The sacred weapons (assel, begalta, etc.) were named after previous, long dead nabateans, from heroes who fought against agarthans to artisans incredibly skilled in their craft.

:(

Now I'm picturing Cichol picking his hero's lance, to protect his family and fight against Nemesis, and immediately feel bad because it didn't work as intended.

Cichol loved humans more than the other nabateans. He loved hanging out in their cities and churches and whatnot. Everyone bullied Cichol when he grew a beard because its considered a human thing. Too bad for them he found a nabatean who shared his oddities and they fell in love.

Now I'm picturing Macuil wasting his magic to cleanly shave himself, to be sure, else people would mistake him for a "lowly human".

Then he realised if he kept his transformation, he wouldn't need to shave, and no one would believe he is a "lowly human" and that's totally why old birdie refuses to return to his human form

[futurefind]

//also s.o to the fact that one rumor/theory about fate/ rea circulating in clock tower (esp after they get their paws on her/SEE her as not just a hypothetical made up heir) is that, if she wasnt a kidnapped child/relative of the main rodas branch, is a straight up homonculus

(which like. probably for the better she'd get even MORE targets on her back if everyone internalized she has a fully* functional crest from a family/line she has no blood relation to but also. oh my god shes rattling in her cage))

[black-daisy7]

The idea of this is that "what if the energies of Digimon of original Tamers & the Crests became helpful guides to the second group?"

So this is the embodiment of Agumon,Tai, & the pure essence of what the crest of Courage means.

the embodiment of Gabumon, Matt & the pure essence of what the crest of Friendship means.

the embodiment of Biyomon, Sora & the pure essence of what the crest of Love means.

the embodiment of Tentomon, Izzy & & the pure essence of what the crest of Knowledge means.

the embodiment of Palmon, Mimi & the pure essence of what the crest of Sincerity means.

the embodiment of Gomamon, Joe & the pure essence of what the crest of Reliability means.

the embodiment of Patamon, TK & the pure essence of what the crest of Hope means.

the embodiment of Gatomon, Kairi & the pure essence of what the crest of Light means.

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

[dindjarindiaries]

Love Me Louder

summary: Your secret romance with the Mandalorian is put at risk when you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

contains: canon-typical violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.631k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

The chime of your comm device was akin to a sigh of relief. You reached for it without a second thought, the small hunk of metal close to your lips as you spoke into it. “Hey. You’re late.”

“Nice to hear from you, too.” There was a fond smile evident in Din’s tone and you could picture the soft tilt of his helmet. 

Your own lips started to curl up into a grin. “You can’t blame me for getting worried.” You glanced around the dark room, wary. “Where did you land?”

“The usual clearing near the stream, on the forested outskirts.”

“Good. I’m glad that it's still a reliable place.” You took a deep breath and adjusted the satchel at your side. “I’ve got the supplies already, but since I have to cross town, it'll be a little while before I can get there.”

“That’s fine. Take your time.” Din paused, tension straining his voice as he went on. “I need you to be safe above all else.”

Your smile had only grown. “I will be.”

You had started to put the comm device back on your belt when Din spoke again. “And cyar’ika, be aware of the weather.” Your chest fluttered at the nickname, despite Din’s serious tone. “The sky looks like it’s about to open up.”

“Sure. Just be ready to warm me up when I get there.” You had tried your best to fight a chuckle at your cheeky words. Din was rendered silent on the other end of the link, no doubt swinging his helmet away in sweet embarrassment. “See you soon.”

You hung the device on your belt and secured the satchel at your side. One last scan around your home proved that you had everything you’d need for this long-awaited excursion and reunion. You put the hood of your poncho over your head and made your way out of your home, one hand staying on the satchel and the other prepared to reach for the emergency blaster Din had equipped you with long ago.

The town was busy that day, swarmed by merchants and townsfolk alike trying to make their deals before the storm Din had mentioned swept in. The first few raindrops were already falling, though you couldn’t be bothered by it. The crowds would retreat into shelter and you would be able to get through to Din even more quickly. The Razor Crest wasn’t much, but it was a safe haven to both of you, and a little bit of rainfall wouldn’t ruin that.

Only one thing could, and that was the reason you two had made this arrangement to prevent it altogether. No one had ever seen the two of you together ever since your paths crossed in the cantina you worked at many years ago. It was the first time you’d seen each other since those early childhood days in Aq Vetina, and if Din hadn’t remembered you first, you never would’ve known it was him underneath all that beskar. The only other times you had let yourselves be seen together outside the hull of his ship was in low-lit villages on sparsely-populated planets. Many years later, it had still proven to be a reliable method. The love you shared was only for you two to know, other than the little one Din had taken into his charge.

But as the rain started to fall harder upon the townsfolk, you heard a commotion that started to threaten your reliable routine.

As you took a quick glance behind you, you noticed it wasn’t the rain that had people scattering in a panic. A band of three Klatooinians with their blasters drawn went from person-to-person as they strided down the street that was only getting muddier and harder to navigate by the moment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying at first, but when you took a moment to focus in, your blood ran colder than the rain that soaked your clothing.

“Have you seen the Mandalorian?” one of the Klatooinians snarled at a merchant. The Mon Calamari cowered away and shook their head. The Klatooinian growled in frustration and raised their blaster. “Don’t think I won’t know if you’re lying!”

You cursed to yourself and began to weave your way faster through the crowd. Your hand clutched onto your comm device as you lifted it to your lips. “Din,” you warned him, your voice low yet audible above the chaos that surrounded you. “We have a problem.”

There was no hesitation in his response. “What is it?”

“It’s hunters, I think,” you informed him. You glanced over your shoulder and tightened your jaw at their close proximity. “Klatooinians. They’re asking about you.”

Din cursed and you heard a shuffling sound on his end of the link. “Are you okay?”

Your shoulder hit someone else’s and you uttered a quick apology. “I’m fine. They haven’t caught up to me yet.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Din’s voice was calm, though you could still hear the strain of his worry for you. “Go home and secure every door and viewport. I’ll take the ship—.”

“I can’t,” you hissed, wary of the townsfolk who resisted your movements around them more and more. “They came up from behind me. I can’t get around them.” You took another look and watched one of the Klatooinians catch your gaze. Your heart began to race more as you pushed harder against the crowd. “I’ll keep evading them. You just need to get yourself and the kid out of here.”

“Cyar’ika—.”

“Hey, you!” The Klatooinian’s voice was almost directly behind you. Still, you didn’t stop until the two people in front of you formed a wall that kept you from moving forward. You set the comm device on your belt and turned around, your shoulders set as all three hunters made a slow approach. “You seem to be in a rush.”

“Some of us have places to be,” you responded. Your voice never wavered despite their attempt at intimidation.

“Where are you headed?” another one of them asked.

“My ship,” you lied with ease. You set your hands on your hips in annoyance. “I’m already off schedule, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep heading there.”

“What’s in the bag?” The first Klatooinian ignored your words and pointed at your satchel with his blaster.

“Supplies for my journey.” You made a grand gesture to your surroundings. “We’re in a marketplace, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

The Klatooinian huffed with fake amusement. “You sound defensive for a person who’s not hiding anything.”

“I just don’t like to be inconvenienced when I’m minding my own business.”

The hunter had become enough for you to feel his warm breath on your face, his beady eyes giving you a once-over. He held his blaster on his shoulder as he went on. “You ever seen a Mandalorian?”

You raised your brow and scoffed. “That’s a joke, right?” The Klatooinian’s gaze darkened. “Aren’t they all dead?”

The Klatooinian began to snarl at you. “Clever.” He motioned to the two hunters who flanked him and they lunged towards you before you could stop them. One took your wrists and pinned them behind your back while the other emptied the contents of your satchel onto the muddy ground.

“Hey!” you shouted, your voice full of venom. You pulled at the Klatooinian’s hold on you, but he didn’t budge. “What the hell are you doing?”

The first hunter knelt down and inspected the dirty pile of supplies. All of the food, water, medical supplies, and more you had been saving for Din was now rendered useless. You set your jaw when the Klatooinian’s eyes lit up and he reached for something. You fought to keep your expression unchanged when he lifted the vial of polish you’d gotten for Din to use on his armor and his weapons. “Have some armor that needs polishing?” the hunter asked with a sickening smile.

“It’s for my ship,” you insisted, once again fighting the other hunter’s hold on you. “The amount of credits mechanics charge for that stuff these days is insane.”

The Klatooinian shared a look with his fellow hunters before he dropped the polish back into the pile. “You’re quick on your feet.” He stood back to his full height and began to growl again. “A little too quick.” The hunter nodded at the one who held you back. “Keep ‘em with us. I don’t wanna leave this place empty handed.”

The hunter at your side tore your hood off, releasing the storm’s downpour onto you. It made it much harder to view your surroundings and you had no doubt that was his purpose. The barrel of his blaster remained between your shoulder blades, causing you to lift your hands in surrender. The emergency blaster on your hip soon joined the pile of belongings you were forced to leave behind in the dirt.

The Klatooinians continued their interrogations of the other townsfolk about the Mandalorian. All you could do was hope that Din had followed your directions and gotten himself and the little one off-world. They still hadn’t proven that you had a connection to Din, even if they hadn’t been convinced by all the little lies you told them.

The hunters had almost made it through the entire stretch of the town’s main street when the crowd started parting for someone. Your heart dropped into your stomach when the distant blur became a reflection of silver armor you would usually be relieved to see. Din already had his blaster drawn and raised, but the Klatooinians were quick in doing the same. The one behind you forced you onto your knees in the mud and prodded the back of your head with his blaster while the other two aimed for Din.

“Don’t shoot, Mando,” one of the hunters warned with a venomous hiss, “unless you want their blood on your hands.” The Klatooinian gave your head another prod that drew a grunt from you.

“This is ridiculous,” you spoke up before anyone else could. “I told you, I’ve never seen a Mandalorian before in my life. I don’t know who this guy is.”

“Is that true?” The Klatooinian was still speaking to Din. “Would you care if I asked my associate to pull the trigger?”

The hunter’s blaster clicked behind your head. You closed your eyes for a moment, alarmed by the sound. When you reopened them, the torrential downpour still couldn’t hide the tension that Din had built within himself. Hopefully, it was something only you noticed. “No innocent person needs to die for my sake,” Din spoke up, his modulated voice as even and firm as ever. “They have nothing to do with this. Let them go.”

“Then hand over the child,” the hunter insisted. “A life for a life.”

Din tilted his helmet. “I don’t take kindly to unsolicited deals.” His voice was low and threatening, akin to the thunder that rumbled in the distance.

“My patience is running thin, Mandalorian!” The hunter behind you grabbed you by the hood of your poncho and pressed his blaster against your temple. You clenched your jaw and stared into Din’s visor. You could imagine the widened gaze behind it, one you’d never quite seen aside from the rare glimpse of light that shone even in the darkness of the Crest’s quarters. “Either give us the child or take responsibility for their blood!”

Din lifted his free hand in surrender. “Wait.” He began to lower his blaster to the ground. “There’s no need to deal in blood.”

You started to shake your head at Din. The last thing you needed was him getting either himself or the child in trouble for your sake. It was the whole reason why you kept your love secret for so long.

Din’s blaster was nearly on the ground when he spoke again. “We can find another way.”

The Klatooinian, exasperated, sneered at Din. “And what would that be?”

Din didn’t answer. Instead, he used the hunters’ shared frustration as their own distraction. His free hand caught the handle of his vibroblade in his boot and aimed it for the Klatooinian’s hand. The blaster was knocked away from your head and just seconds later, three telling blaster bolts sounded off from Din’s direction. All three hunters hit the mud at the same time like a simultaneous exhale of relief. You remained where you were both out of surprise and the inability to move in your current position.

The rain was still coming down hard as Din made his approach. He knelt down and held your shoulders, his gloved hands trembling as his visor assessed you for injuries. “Are you okay?” His visor met your gaze. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You observed the gathered crowd and kept your voice low. “We’ve drawn a lot of attention, though.” Din helped you up from the ground and began to look around with you. “We should walk away in opposite directions.”

“No.” Din tightened his gloved hands into fists at his sides. “I need to get you to safety. Personally.”

You raised your brow as you started following him. The townspeople’s gazes followed you, but you couldn’t have cared less. “The Crest?”

“For now.” Din was close enough for his arm to constantly brush against yours. He took a deep, troubled breath, his modulated voice getting louder the further you got from the crowded town. “More hunters will hear about what happened. They’ll know you were involved somehow.”

“So,” you started to finish for him, “I can’t stay here.”

Din looked away from you in guilt. “We’ll find you an even better planet to reside on.”

You crossed your arms and stared at your muddy feet as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want to stay on a planet.”

Din’s visor had snapped back towards you, but you refused to meet it. His cuirass inflated with a breath he held in a suspended moment. “We’ve talked about this, cyar’ika.”

“Have we?” The adrenaline from your quick brush with death raged on in your sharp retort. “Or did you make that decision for me?”

Din stopped just as the two of you were concealed by the natural barrier of the forest. He held his weight on one hip as he faced you, the rain still ricocheting off the trees that surrounded you. “You saw what just happened by chance. I almost lost you.” Din had said the words as if they pained him. You tightened your lips. “If you stay with me, that situation could become an everyday reality.”

“It’s already happened without anyone knowing about us!” You waved a frustrated hand towards the town behind you. “And I came out unscathed!”

“What if you hadn’t?” Din’s voice almost cracked with his quick response.

You looked towards the town in the distance and prepared to lift the weight off your shoulders. “Then it would’ve been better than the torture I’ve had to put myself through for so long.” Your gaze met his visor again. “Never knowing when or if you’d ever be able to show up again and hoping that you’d be okay whenever you did. Sharing your bed for a few nights at a time just to return home and be alone in mine for months.” You shook your head. “A blaster bolt would hurt a whole lot less than that.”

Din’s visor fell to the ground. He shifted his weight between his feet, the beads of water cascading down his silver beskar much like tears would. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I hadn’t thought of how much it was hurting you, too.”

The knot within your chest softened as you took a step closer to Din. “Has it also been hurting you?”

Din looked up at you with a tilt of his helmet that could’ve spoken for him if words failed him. “Worse than any wound I’ve ever had.” He glanced towards the distant town. “But the thought of losing you hurt even worse.”

You lifted your hands to his helmet and held it much like you would hold his face in those darkened rooms meant just for you. “Either way, Din, you could lose me.” Your voice was soft despite the gravity of your words. “One would happen because of our distance. The other would happen with us by each other’s sides.” You gave him a determined stare, one that proved you were ready for any challenge. “I don’t know about you, but I much prefer to be by your side.”

Din’s gloved hand held your wrists and gave them a squeeze. It became clear he couldn’t form a response and you didn’t have to ask him why.

“I know the galaxy already hasn’t been kind to you. My family and I were lucky to have gotten away from Aq Vetina when we did.” Your thumbs stroked his beskar cheeks and you hoped he was soothed by it. “But the galaxy also brought us back together. That’s something we should stop taking for granted, no matter how much fear it tries to instill in either one of us.”

Din nodded. He was still unable to use his words, the lump in his throat no doubt too large to work around. The way he took one of your hands and held it within his own said enough.

“We should get back to the Crest.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Especially if you left the kid by himself.”

Din watched your arms swing back-in-forth in gentle motions between you. He managed to respond to that, though his modulated voice still wasn’t quite back to normal. “He’ll be fine.”

You moved closer to his side. “And so will I.”

The walk to the Crest wasn’t long from where you both had stopped to stand. Like you had told Din before, the longest part was getting through town, something that had already been done thanks to the help of the Klatooinians. Din used his vambrace to open up the ship for the two of you and you looked around the hold that had already become your new home.

“I’m sorry I don’t have the supplies,” you apologized to Din once he’d secured the ship once again. The child was asleep in the hammock Din had strung up for him, a sight that made you smile as Din continued to move throughout the space. “The hunters threw everything in the dirt.”

“That’s fine.” Din’s words were genuine as he held one gloved hand upon a rung of the ladder. “We can stop somewhere else.”

Din started to climb the ladder to the cockpit. You followed him, elated to be a permanent part of his crew. It wasn’t your first time traveling somewhere with Din in the Crest, but it would be the first time where you didn’t have to think of parting from him eventually. Relief swept through you as you took your place in one of the co-pilot’s seats and watched Din power up the ship.

“It’s nice to have you here.” Din spoke the words unprompted from the pilot’s seat, his helmet glancing over his armored shoulder.

You smiled at him. “It’s nice to be here.”

Din’s gloved hands continued to move over the controls before the Crest started soaring into the atmosphere. “I’m sorry I didn’t agree to this earlier.”

You had tilted your head at him. “Don’t apologize for doing what you thought would keep me safe.” Your gaze fell to your hands in your lap. “I’m sorry for how harsh my words were earlier.”

“Don’t be. I needed that.” Din locked the Crest into hyperspace and stood from his seat. He lifted his hand to your chin to make you face him. “Someone had to knock some sense into me.”

You smiled as Din helped you up from the seat and led you to the old storage room across the way. “I still do like the idea of a secret romance, though.”

Din tilted his helmet at you once he secured the door shut. “Do you?”

You shrugged and walked closer to him. “It’s sweet.”

Din set his hands on his hips. “That’s not what you’re really thinking, is it?”

You chuckled, setting your hands upon his cuirass. “I’m thinking about how I told you to be ready to warm me up earlier.” You used your gaze to gesture to your rain-soaked clothes. “Now would be an opportune time.”

Din also chuckled at that. He used his vambrace to turn the light off and you heard the hiss of his helmet as he removed it. “In that case, I’ll work fast.” His lips started to find yours even in the darkness, but he hesitated, his breath practically your own. “But first…” he paused, his unfiltered voice still sending shivers down your spine as if it was the first time you’d heard it, “thank you for taking on such danger for me.” Din kissed the corner of your mouth. “I love you.”

You smiled at the words that had always been difficult for him to say. “I love you, too.” You returned the favor with a kiss of your own. “You know I’d face a thousand dangers for you.”

“Please don’t,” Din pleaded with a gentle chuckle. “For my sake.”

You both laughed as Din finally closed the distance once and for all, marking that night as the first of many you no longer had to steal but could finally possess whenever you wanted to.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

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[riveracheron]

eh. might as well post this now. a few of these are wish fulfillment rather than actual theorizing but explanations under the cut

i have an alchemy hyperfixation and all the alchemy stuff in tmagp makes me very excited so a lot of my theories are related to that

spoilers for the pilot btw

main character gets an eye injury - the image will not leave my head. in the magnus institute ruins statement there was this whole thing about redcanary having some kind of encounter with or experience with eye trauma and that feels like something thats just. gonna come up again

another mechanisms va - self explanatory, we need to complete the set. would love to hear kofi or rachel.

gwen has trauma related to something that happened with elias - this is going on the theory that she’s not elias’ counterpart, but a relative of some kind. something spooky happens to him and that pushes gwen to research the paranormal.

character referencing nicholas flamel - all the main characters have names that reference alchemists, and nicholas flamel is probably the most famous alchemist of all time. i doubt he’ll be given the smirke treatment because that kinda already happened with the transphobic wizard books, but someone could be sharing his name.

mag 114 statement is relevant - thats the. hill top road statement that deals with other realities, and anya (the statement giver) could be from the protocol verse. we could totally hear about the aftermath of her departure

alice/sam/gwen = three primes - the three main alchemical symbols on the OIAR crest, and a good sort of symbolic trio sorter. the three peimes are salt, sulphur and mercury, and are the basis for alchemy. the down to earth, reliable salt, the firey, unpredictable sulfur, and the adaptable, easygoing mercury. i think these could apply i just want to have it called out in universe

lena is a good person - i don’t think they’d pull the evil boss thing twice. i just think lena’s weird mannerisms are from her autistic swag

celia is related to or is agnes - (related to as in. her story involves agnes, not that shes like. a sister.) this comes from a theory by @/pinklotjeart, i think. basically: through the way her death was described (spark returned to the lightless flame) and some timeline discrepancies and general avatarness making it weird, agnes might not be Dead dead. and celia’s counterpart, lynne - well, she saw a fire ghost. also, both her and agnes are the only non one-off characters who have shakespeare names afaik. agnes MONTAGUE, celia from as you like it…

annabelle cane is related somehow - self explanatory, she was at hilltop road when everything went down. might have been pulled in.

a famous alchemist is robert smirke’d - self explaining, give me more canon historical figures jonny

another kitty cat - i want more kitty in podcast is that a crime

augustus is not jonah - we hear jonah’s voice as ben meredith in 193, so im skeptical that tim fearon’s character is jonah for that reason.

oiar group has a messy moment that devolves into actual physical violence - mmm angst i think they deserve to smack eachother around a bit

bonzo cult - yeah.

oiar found family - we got the group of coworkers that hate each other angst last time gimme the “hurting one to get to the others” and self sacrifice angst this time

colin dies early - mmmm i cant say much about this bc its based on one throwaway line at the MCM panel where jonny doesn’t mention colin in the main character group. so . death flags.

oiar is containing the entities scp style - this was a super early theory of mine, either this or theyre using them for power or energy in some way. even more heavy handed capitalism metaphors yay

someone gets ushanka’d - its computer horror: the podcast. that’s all

cookbook statement - a few clues in the ARG had to do with cookbooks, and alex and jonny have already said they’re getting weird with the statement formats (they mentioned an insurance report!) so. cookbook doesn’t seem too far-fetched

tiktoker/influencer character - archives was 2010s and they had a podcaster and youtuber, which were like. the big things. whats the hip trend now??? instagram and tiktok baybee

protocol editors va a small role a la mag 100 or the wtgfs cult - those characters were voiced by other rq team members (ie helen as laverne and martyn as robin) and the team has since expanded!! some editors dis stuff for cry havoc, so im guessing nico, annie, april and others will get a small role!

a villain’s goal is creating the philosopher’s stone or other alchemical thing - tmagp is heavily inspired by alchemy, and the philosopher’s stone was the main goal of alchemy!! it would grant you eternal knowledge snd the ability to turn lead into gold- which seems like a good. evil dude’s ambition

the desolation gets more focus - the institute burned down, the oiar crest has a lot of sulfur symbols (the fire element), alchemy as a whole having to do with fire, celia and her connection- it paints a very. lightless flame picture

trip to germany - a lot of the arg was set in and around berlin, and there was that exchange between sam and colin about german in the pilot! i could see a germany trip happening in the same way jon took a trip to china and america.

[rinixo]

cherry waves

Din Djarin/Reader | 3.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, sex pollen trope, description of illness, vaginal fingering, first time

In hindsight, that caf did taste a little off.

--

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

read on ao3

The quiet murmur of the crowds were faint in the back of your mind as you sat underneath the shade near a small food stand. In front of you on the table were various datapads, and as you sipped on your caf your eyes darted from one to another, analyzing the information.

Off in the distance, The Mandalorian entertained the child by walking him past the various shops and stands. The baby had been distracting you from your current task, so the metal man had graciously pulled him away to ply his attention with shiny baubles and roasted skewers.

The market you were on wasn’t particularly large or well known, but it suited your needs well enough. The three of you needed to stretch your legs and breathe non-recycled air after a couple of weeks being cooped up in the Crest. Being able to stock up on some basic necessities was a plus, especially in a place where you were unlikely to be noticed or tracked by the various bounty hunters and imperial remnants out to find you.

However, supplies and fresh air were only second on your list of priorities. What you really needed, and what eventually led to you sitting there surrounded by datapads was a reliable Holonet connection.

A few days ago, you had approached Mando about your current progress on tracking down information on the Jedi Order. You had stockpiled terabytes of records and information prior to fleeing Naboo, which had been helpful, but could only get you so far.

“I need to cross-reference the variables against the network in order to extrapolate the most relevant data points and establish the locations with the highest likelihood of success,” you had explained. Mando had turned slightly in his seat, and you guessed that under that helmet he was frowning.

Smiling apologetically, you tapped your nails against the side of your datapad. You had the tendency to get too technical when it came to your passion. “I need a stable connection to the Holonet so I can plug in the info we know about the Jedi against recent mentions or sightings so I can narrow down where we should be looking.”

That seemed to make sense, so a few days later there you were, hooked up to the Holonet on some planet you had already forgotten the name of. For the past hour, you had been running the data, searching for info points on your keywords – ‘Jedi’, ‘laser sword’, ‘space magic’, etc – hoping to find something that would get you closer to your goal.

A while later, your search had yielded a half dozen promising leads. Pleased, you shut off your data pads and began to pack up your items up as Mando waltzed back over.

“Any luck?” He asked, and you nodded as you stood.

“Actually, yes. I found some relatively recent data that I think is worth investigating.” The two of you (and the baby, tucked away in his pouch at Mando’s side) began your short journey back to where the Razor Crest was docked while you continued to speak. “The New Republic has removed most of the Imperial censors on the ‘net, but a lot of the data on the Jedi has just been purged completely. It’s not so much that the information is censored at this point – rather, the information just doesn’t exist anymore. At least not in a format I can access.”

“But you found something?” Mando asked, and you detected a tinge of hope in the timbre of his voice.

Reaching into your pack, you pulled out one of your data pads and pulled up some coordinates. “Yes, several locations that have mention of information or remnants of Jedi history, and in some cases alleged sightings of actual Jedi.” Mando took the pad from you as you approached the Crest, climbing the ramp into the belly of the ship. “One of those places is just one jump away, actually.”

Mando handed the pad back to you, and began to head towards the cockpit. “Good job. We’ll start there.”

You set your things down among the recently re-stocked supply crates, hoping that turning your face away from the man was enough to hide the heat in your cheeks and the shine in your eye from the compliment. Your halfhearted attempt at dampening your crush on the armored man had failed, and your heart continued to race every time he praised you or brushed up against you.

You had acknowledged that Mando’s first priority would always be the child, which you respected and agreed with. You often wondered if the subtle hints you sent his way, in your body language and voice, made it through the beskar armor. He was still as stoic and unflappable as he was when you first met, but his replies had started to come easier and it felt like he would now go out of his way to spend time with you, instead of the wide berth he had given you half a year ago. Part of you knew that it was due in no small part to the trust the two of you had built, but the romantic in you also liked to wonder if it was something a little more.

A sharp pain in the back of your neck pulled you out of your wistful thinking, and you winced. Chalking it up to too much caf too quickly, you decided you finish putting your things away and take a nap. You didn’t want it to turn into a headache or migraine, and a nap was usually enough to stave such off.

 --

Several hours later, you remained awake in your cot, head aching and body burning. You had slept in fitful bursts until the burning under your skin forced your eyes back open to the low light of the hold where you lay. Sweat trickled across your skin, and you let out a low moan tinged with pain. You felt like your very blood was made molten, chugging sluggishly through your veins and pooling uncomfortably between your thighs. Every slight movement of your legs and your body sent shocks of sensation to your most sensitive nerve endings.

Hoisting yourself up with some difficulty, you shuffled slowly towards the refresher, thin tank sticking to your clammy skin. Pushing open the door, you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, someone you had a hard time recognizing staring back. Your skin was slick with sweat, your pupils blown dark and wide. With a shaking hand, you turned on the water and tried to relieve some of your pain by splashing it across your face. It did nothing to help, and merely splashed your already sweat-soaked top with ice cold water.

Shutting the water off, you turned to return to your cot, only to bump straight into a broad metal chest. The impact wasn’t very hard, but in your fragile state you fell to the ground, legs shaking underneath you. Your head pounded, and you groaned and covered your eyes.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so good,” Mando inquired. You rasped out a ‘no’, throat dry. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew that you definitely did not feel well. Your pussy throbbed at the sound of his voice, which would normally not feel so bad. In your current state, it was almost painful.

Mando turned, looking for something, and returned shortly with a cup of water. He knelt to be closer to your level, and held up the cup to your lips. He helped you sip, and you downed the water gratefully, feeling the dryness in your throat ease some.

“What happened?” Mando asked, and you sighed.

“I don’t know,” you said weakly. “Maybe I’m sick? I felt fine until we got back to the Crest. I had a bit of a headache so I tried to sleep it off, but it just kept getting worse and worse.” A low ‘hmm’ emanated from the beskar helmet, and Mando pulled off a glove to place the back of his hand gently against your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, thankful for the coolness of his skin against your blazing cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Mando said, concern evident in his voice. “It’s odd that you’d get this sick this quickly.” You let out a whine as he removed his hand, letting you head lull to the side. A sudden thought rushed through your head and you looked up at him in panic.

“You – and the baby – I don’t want you two to get sick,” you breathed out. “You should get away from me, and keep him away.” Mando stood, and pulled a datapad towards him. Frustrated that he seemed to ignore your concern, you tried to pull yourself up and found it more of a struggle than you could attempt. Choosing instead to crawl towards him, you pleaded for him to return to the cockpit.”

“Hush,” Mando commanded, and it was like every cell in your body stood at attention to obey him. You shut your mouth and rested your head against his armored thigh, closing your eyes to ride another wave of the burning in your blood that seemed to both come from and end up between your legs.

“Did you have anything to eat when we were in the market earlier?” Mando asked. You shook your head weakly.

“N-no…just a couple cups of caf…”

His helmet tilted sharply to look down at you. “Caf? Are you sure?”

Confused, you shrugged. “I…I think so?” Now that you thought about it, it had tasted a little unusual, but you had assumed it was just some kind of local variety. “It was a little…spicy…?”

A muffled expletive was all you heard as Mando set the datapad down and crouched to get at your eye level again. He grasped your chin gently in one hand to steady your head, and you felt your blood sing. You could faintly make out your reflection in his helmet, your pupils so dark it felt like your vision should be black.

“Wha-?” you said in a hushed voice, confused. Mando sighed, and let go of your chin. He remained in a crouched position, arms on his knees and hands opening and closing into fists as he struggled to explain.

 “I think you’ve been poisoned,” he started slowly. Your head shot up, panic evident on your face. “Not on purpose,” he clarified, “at least I don’t think so. I don’t think what you were given was caf. That planet is known for an herb that – in some people – elicits this kind of reaction,” he gestured at you. “I’m guessing that it was in what you drank.”

Your mind raced. Poisoned? Herb? None of it made sense in your addled state. All you knew was that with every passing moment your body throbbed with need and you were edging closer and closer to shoving your hand into your pants right here in front of the Mandalorian.

“Is there an antidote?” You moaned. “How long does this last?”

Mando shook his head. “Not that I know of. From what I’ve encountered, it can last a couple of days, but I’ve never seen someone have such a strong reaction,” he explained sympathetically. “I don’t know how much you had, so I don’t know how long this will last.”

“Is there anything to relieve this feeling?” You practically begged. “Mando, I’m desperate, this is unbearable…”

The man cleared his throat. It was clear he was struggling with something.

“There is,” he said lowly. “But it’s…it’s not something that…” he trailed off. You stifled a sob and crawled closer to him. One of his hands came to steady you at your shoulder.

“This reaction – the herb – it affects your libido,” he continued calmly. You grit out a short, strained laugh.

“No shit.” Something about him acknowledging he understood what you were experiencing was almost liberating. You felt like the more he talked to you, the more he touched you, the closer you were to him the clearer your head felt. The burn under your skin was still there, and the desire pounding through your veins, but your mind and attention were more focused.

“Yeah. So you can work it through your system faster by, uh…” he stumbled over his words. “R-releasing…”

You wanted to sink through the floor and float off into space, never to be seen again. The idea of getting off here with Mando knowing was mortifying. Sure, you were attracted to him, but this was not the way you had fantasized about approaching the topic with him.

“Damn it,” you murmured. “Damn it.” You looked up at Mando, debating your options. It seemed you could either ride this out, not knowing how long it would last, or get off until it wore off. Mando made it sound like it would be at least a few days before it was out of your system naturally You already felt at the end of your rope after just a few hours, so you crossed that off your list. That left you with one option.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you sat back on your haunches. “Can you help me up?” You asked, voice trembling. “Get back to my cot so I can, uh…”

Understanding, Mando moved towards you. Instead of sampling helping you stand, you let out a small squeak as he hoisted you up into his arms. The feeling of your skin against his cold armor was both a relief and a trigger, sending more need through your body.

He walked you over to your cot, and gently laid you down. You let out another (mostly) involuntary moan as his strong embrace lessened, and you desperately wished he would continue to hold you.

“Thanks,” you gasped out. “I’m so sorr-“

“Do you want help?”

You closed your mouth, not knowing to believe what you thought you just heard or not. He had said it so suddenly. His helmeted gaze was fixed on you, and you propped yourself up on one elbow.

“H-help?” You gulped. “H-help how?” His gaze remained steady, and there was a tension radiating off his body like you hadn’t seen before.

“I could…touch you,” he clarified. “Help you…release. Only if you want to,” he added. “Never without – I’d never presume –“

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. Your body hummed with desperation and need. “Please, yes, Mando.” His concern for you was intoxicating, his hurried explanation endearing.

Mando slowly moved to sit on your cot. While your sleeping space wasn’t exactly tiny, his bulk took up most of the space as he leaned against the wall, spreading his legs slightly. “Lay against me,” he said gently. Your body immediately obeyed his command, and shot up to crawl between his legs, settling between them, back against the cool structure of his chest. You felt dwarfed by his body and his presence, and that in and of itself was sending notes of gratification through you.

He shifted you slightly, so that your legs could spread wider. The feeling of his gloved hands against the soft skin of your thighs made you gasp sweetly, and you closed your eyes and leaned your head back.

A short rustle, and then his hands were back, this time bare. “Can I touch you?” He asked again, one hand on your thigh, the other hovering over the waistband of your bottoms. You nodded, and let out a hushed ‘yes’. Despite your enhanced state, you felt fully in control of your senses and cognizant of your decision.

Mando slipped his hand under your shorts, and cupped your dripping cunt. You spread your legs further, bumping them up against his. His hand on your thigh rubbed soft, soothing circles as his other prodded your folds and clit carefully.

You were so pent up and sensitive your first orgasm came embarrassingly fast. Mando slowly caressed your swollen pussy as you bit your lip and whimpered.

“So soon?” Mando joked breathlessly. Your hands came up to grip his pants, fisting the material as your lower half writhed.

“M-more Mando, please…”

He obliged you, putting pressure on your throbbing clit. You chewed on your lower lip, trying to move your hips in motion with his ministrations. His hand ventured lower, two fingers slipping inside you as the heel of his palm rubbed your clit. You opened your mouth in a silent ‘ah’ as he began to stroke in and out of you – not too deep, just enough to make your legs begin to shake.

His unoccupied hand came up to rest on your lower stomach. You marveled at how hands so calloused could feel so soft against you. You looked down at where he continued to pump in and out of you, cheeks burning. You were wetter than you had ever been before, and the sound of Mando touching you was nearly obscene.

You could feel another orgasm approaching. Your hands gripped his pants harder, and you arched your back, trying to get Mando to fill you more. His hand on your stomach stayed firm, holding you in place as he methodically fingered your dripping cunt.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice husky and low even through the vocoder. “Let me help you-”

“M-maker…” you gasped. He ground his palm against your mound, and you were on the precipice. Your thighs shook with the effort of trying not to writhe so much that he lose his grip. You wondered where he learned to do this. Maybe it was the effect of the herb making you more sensitive, but it was like he was playing your body like an artist perfecting a masterpiece.

Your orgasm built like chain lightning, and rolled over you like thunder. Your thighs snapped closed, trapping his hand between your legs. Your head fell forward as you wailed, Mando coaching you through your second release.

“Yes, good girl, you’re doing so well-“

It felt like your release lasted two lifetimes before your thighs began to part. You felt extremely sensitive as Mando slipped his fingers out of you, trailing them up over your clit. Your body jerked from the sensation, and you panted, eyes closed.

“Feeling better?” Mando murmured, hand rubbing soft circles on your tummy. You nodded, voice not found. You were feeling lightyears better in fact – the burn was still there, but so much more subdued and your head no longer pounded.

“Mmm,” he said. “I guess your exceptional reaction results in exceptional completion.”

You let out a laugh. “Is that your hypothesis?” Mando’s hands returned to your thighs, and you bit your lip as he teased the soft skin there.

“Perhaps,” he mused. “I think it could benefit from more investigation.”

“Agreed,” you breathed, letting the pleasure wash over you as he resumed his attention dutifully.

 --

pt 2 but with din getting sex pollen’d.....? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)

[jarofstyles]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes 4- Preparations and Secret Keepers

Helloo my loves! They’re back. Lady Y/N and Princerry have returned and they’re ✨ in love✨ obviously. I hope you enjoy a bit more of them!

Check out our Patreon for exclusive writing and early access.

Warnings- a smidgen of exhibitionism if you squint

WC- 3.9k

Fic masterlist

————

The ballroom was beautiful.

Y/N had nearly felt tears in her eyes when she first saw it. Swirls of saturated color all around. Flowers in opulent garlands wrapping around the marble columns and up to the ceilings. The lights twinkled from them as they hung down from the dark vines that curtained the ceiling, looking like stars in the sky.

The tables were lined with expensive cloth, a deep red with a lace runner going through the middle. Fine dishware was neatly stacked, the golden designs etched and foiled on them shining in the lights. Bouquets were the centerpieces, red ribbon tied around the vases in delicate bows. There were no expenses spared for this. His and her initial was painted on the dance floor with the royal family crest, gold foiling making it sparkle. Staff scurried about to put on finishing touches on the scene while Y/N and the Queen did a last check up.

What had her truly gasping for breath were the specific flowers that she had shown Harry in their walk decorating the royal table, the bouquet specially made for her at her spot clear next to him. The first time she would be at a royal event… as a future royal. Her hands were a bit sweaty as she followed the Queen dutifully, listening to her comments as she made small adjustments for the headmistress to go over with staff.

Y/N admired his gracious she was. Saying please and thank you to staff was not something most nobility did, but she did. She wanted to be just like her. Friendly and kind. Not a feared woman- unless she was crossed. Respected. That was her goal, above all else.

As soon as they had a moment alone, she turned to her. “How are you truly doing, my dear?” Her soft hand landed on Y/N’s forearm, true compassion on her face. She could see her bristling nerves grating on her even though most couldn’t. “You are good at hiding your emotions. The reason I can see it is because I was in your shoes once.” She soothed. “Having good control of when you show them is important. But you’ve proven yourself thus far.” Her kind smile made Y/N relax a little bit.

“Thank you.” She replied. “I am… I’m good. I think it is a bit overwhelming but I remind myself this is the first one. I will get used to it. It’s to celebrate our love and union, too, so I should not be worried.” Y/N refused to let jealous and bitter women ruin the beautiful thing that Harry and her had created. Had been thrust into; his arms welcoming her like a warm bath. The Queen nodded at her statement, the pair walking slowly as they observed the royal table. “He remembered.” Her whisper was caught by the Queen, watching her fingers brush one of the flowers with a smile.

“He is a good man. I am happy with how he’s grown.” The Queen loved her son dearly. She wasn’t fond of the way most royals before her had reared their children, handing them off to nanny’s and other staff dedicated to the job. She wanted to be hands on. To raise him to be a good man, to make changes she had already started to implement. He would not be arrogant and rude. That was a fear, knowing the power could get to his head as it did to many, but she did it herself. She was spoiled with ladies maids who would tend to him at night as a wee babe, but she did everything else. The bond between parent and child was gravely important. “Though I will say… the change I’ve seen in him since he has met you has made me ecstatic.”

Y/N turned to her with curious eyes. “How so, may ask?” She was treading lightly, still wanting to be respectful but dying to know. Any bit of information about him from a reliable source made her giddy. Filing it away in her favorite folder in her memories, she wanted to soak it all in.

“He seemed more… excited about ruling. He learns with vigor. Speaks up. He wants to know the intricacies more and more. Before… he was unmotivated in some ways.” There was a pause as she exhaled. “I suppose that was partially our fault. We wanted him to remain as carefree as he could, to form his own personality without it being directly tied to a title. He learned a lot during his childhood but he had been seemingly nervous as he grew. Now he seems far more settled in it.” It was most definitely because of Y/N. “Having a reliable, trustworthy and level headed ruling partner is one of the most important and undervalued assets a King can have. They do say, "What is a King without his Queen.” She gave a slight smile as Y/N followed her words closely.

“You have those qualities, from what I can tell. Keeping a level head and still being able to defend yourself and the person you love is a beautiful thing to have as a ruler. It isn’t easy. People will disagree simply because you spoke, you rule. I can understand why, to a degree. Taking into account the stress of being a King, I think that you will be able to elevate him. I believe him the same as you. The King may seem to be the one who holds all the power… but know that it isn’t true. I’ve helped come to all of the most important decisions in our kingdom’s history. It isn’t a job to take lightly.” The Queen could see it on her face, how she was agreeing but still spooked. This wasn’t necessarily a test, but it was a reality she needed to face. She couldn’t just play royal. It was a job.

“That is why I was so worried about who Harry would end up with. Many women.. they think that being a Queen is being lavished with diamonds and pearls, being fed delicacies by hand and never lifting a finger. They think it’s the custom dresses and crowns, the balls and the galas, the travels. But it is so much more than that.” She squeezed her hand, giving her another smile. “I was terrified that my son would follow a man’s intuition and just go for whoever appealed to his physical senses without taking a woman’s brain and intentions into account. He was incredibly lucky to stumble across you.”

It was abundantly clear that Y/N loved her son- and if not fully there yet, close to it. She never indulged when she was at the palace, was polite, thanked workers and never threw fits. The girl was respectable, well read and could hold a conversation. It was more than a lot of the other women on the court could say when they were vying for Harry’s hand in marriage.

“Do you truly think I’ll make a good Queen?” Y/N asked quietly, looking her in the eye despite wanting to look at her skirts. This was an intimidating conversation but she needed to hear it. None of it was enough to make her leave. It was a lot more than she had ever expected to take on as a wife- if she had ever married at all- but Harry’s tender heart and gentle touch was well worth the challenges. She hopes.

“I do. I think you’ll be one of the best we have seen. Continue to be fearless, to speak your mind to your husband, to be honest and open with him, rule with a fair hand and you will do amazing. The council will try to intimidate you. Do not let them.” The word of warning was clear. Y/N’s tummy turned at the serious tone. “They will try and sway you. The reason for it, as you know, is to have the people given more of a say. But do not let individual agendas influence your decisions. Make them as your heart and mind see fit. Harry will be behind you.”

That, she didn’t doubt. The man had been continuously proving his devotion to her every single day. She had read in her books; the romance novels that had her flustered and fanning herself at times, about love and men. About how she could be treated. Harry far exceeded any expectation.

“I understand. I will do my best, and I will trust my husband. I know he and I have had some conversations about it. I don’t know if he told you of some of the other encounters I’ve had with some of the women, but I already know the way people will treat me. How they will manipulate and how I will need to be careful. But as long as I have Harry, I have my family? I am strong.”

“You will be wonderful.” The Queen replied. “You are wise beyond your years. I’ve heard whispers of what people have been saying, what they’ve been doing. I am not one to abuse power but if you wish to have anyone removed from this party? That is your right.” She wouldn’t want anything to ruin this. It was a step in the new direction of the kingdom, her first real taste. She needed it to be good for her.

“Thank you, my Queen. I will.” Y/N nodded, looking back towards the bouquet. For him? She would do anything. For herself? She would prove that she wasn’t someone to stand on.

—————

Harry watched as she walked down the hall, alone at last. She was stunning, his intended. So beautiful and strong, her head held high as she walked the corridor as if she knew where she was going. She didn’t. All she knew was that Harry had requested her in the library.

“Hello.”

“My goodness!” Y/N yelped, hand over her heart as it raced like a hummingbird inside of her chest. “Harry! You musn't scare me like that.” She still walked towards him, entering the library as she tried to shake off her bout of fright.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Harry peeked down the hall to see it empty, closing the door behind them. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Approaching her, his hands reached for her waist to pull her into his embrace. Smooth. Always so smooth and warm to the touch, making his fingers flex into the dress. Her corset hid the squish of her flesh, something he was dying to feel under his hands, but he thanked the world that she let him handle her this way. The light blue of the dress did wonders to compliment her eyes, ruffled at the bottom in a way he usually dislike- but again, his sweet Y/N had a knack for making him enjoy things he rarely did in the past. She made any dress she wore look like gold. It was impossible for her to dull her glow, a beacon of light that his eyes always wanted to follow.

“That is a lie, my prince.” She laughed under her breath. His grin made sure to tell her he enjoyed making her jump. “Luckily for you, you’re handsome and far too charming to hold a grudge, so I forgive you for it.” Her head tilted back, taking in his content features. Alone. Truly alone with one another in the Palace’s library. It was quite big, shelves upon shelves of books in every color imaginable. A top floor with a balcony overlooking the rest, dark wooden ladders to reach the tall shelves at the bottom, a large reading area in front of the fireplace and a padded bench in front of the window to make for a nook to hide away in. The large arched window let in beams of light, streaking across the room and illuminating the front of it effortlessly.

“I fear that I’ll spend every free moment here.” She returned her gaze to him after looking around. It wasn’t her first time in here, but she was still amazed at the quantity of books in one room. The palace was much larger than she had ever anticipated. “I don’t think I could read every book in here, even if I read every moment in my lifetime. You’ll have to read with me.”

Y/N had expressed a want for that. To find a book to read before bed, just for them. A tradition.

“Of course. I’ll read with you every night if it’s possible.” He released her waist, taking hold of her hand and letting her lead him into the darker aisles of the library. It was relatively quiet in the room, the sound of their steps clicking over the wood floors being the loudest thing they could hear. “What are you looking to read?” His question was soft spoken, aware of how little space there was in these aisles. They were meant for one person to explore, but he truly didn’t mind. Being close to Y/N was a blessing.

“I’m partial to romance. I love all books- I love learning about my flowers and history, I love fairy tales… but I particularly enjoy romance. Happy endings, mostly. All of them, though…they can be quite eye opening. You’d never guess it. People love to diminish the literature because men do not usually enjoy them- at least publicly. Some of the most breathtaking quotes I’ve ever heard of were in such books.” She ran her fingers along the spines of the cloth bound books, grazing the embossed titles. “You learn a lot about people in them. How betrayal can affect a soul, how love can heal. Above all else, loving is a choice. An action.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, unsure of what she meant. “I don’t think I had a choice. I think.. my heart was yours the moment I laid my eyes on you. I’ve never questioned it.”

“There’s different types of loving. Having your heart belong to someone… It is a different sort of love. A soul deep love. But to be in love actively, you choose it. You choose to show the person your feelings, to express them. You do the acts of love by stroking my hand, by choosing the flowers for our table.” A coy look was shot his way. “It won’t always be easy. You’ll have to choose love above all else, even if it’s harder than another solution.” She turned to him, placing a hand on the side of his neck, the dim light doing nothing to hide his beauty.

“I feel the same. I feel as though you plucked my heart out of my chest like harp strings and held it in your hands. There wasn’t much of a choice in that. But the act of loving? It is a choice. Being loved and in love are two different things. We just happen to have both.” And god, did she love him already. It was soul deep, like she said.

“I see…” he rolled his lips in for a moment before pouting ever so slightly. “I can understand that. I haven’t thought of that before but… I suppose it’s because I haven’t read as many romance novels as you. Or, perhaps you’re just a smarter being than me.” He had to chuckle because sometimes he believed it to be true. Y/N’s thoughts were vast, complex, something he wanted to dissect over time. He loved hearing what she thought about policies so far, what she thought of their system. Even just her thoughts on books and flowers. She thought about things he never would have imagined- and it’s part of why he loved her. The creature challenged him in ways no one else ever would, kept him on his toes all while providing a comfort in her presence many would die to have.

“No. You’re just as smart, but in a different way. It’s refreshing. We both have qualities the other needs. It’s one of my favorite parts about us.” She slightly scolded him for that. No self deprivation on her watch.

“Yeah? What are your other favorite parts?” He murmured, feeling the tightness of the space but not wanting to back up. Instead, he got closer. “For example… I love your brain. I love how you speak, how your lips curl around words. I love how I feel like I was submerged in the warmest bath with all of the sweet smelling oils when I’m around you.” His fingers rose to brush her cheek. “But… I hate that I am not able to touch you how I wish.” Speaking of love always got to him. His reminder of how much adoration festered in his heart, how much impatience he had towards expressing it to her in a physical way.

Y/N’s mouth dried as she felt the man close in on her. If her heart was beating fast before? It was ready to fly out of her chest now. Breathing quickening as she leaned into his touch, she found her words on the tip of her tongue, hands settling on his forearms. Against her better judgment, she allowed herself to speak. “How do you wish to touch me?”

The voice was much softer than she would have hoped, showing how she was weak kneed just from this simple touch. Back against the shelf, she peered at him through her lashes, anticipating the next words out of his berry hued mouth. Oh, how she wanted that mouth.

“I wish to touch you without these corsets. I want to feel your skin underneath my fingertips, the softness of your flesh dipping as I hold you.” He paused, inhaling shakily. “ I want to bury my fingers in your hair and tug your head back so I can kiss you. God, I want to kiss you so, so badly. It aches in my soul. I crave nothing more than your affections. You know that?” He looked pained as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. This was a dangerous situation, both of them in a state that they didn’t know how to handle. There were lines they could not cross, things he could not say, but he was feeling them all.

“You do?” She peeped, eyes round at his blunt words. He had expressed some of these things in a letter before but… hearing in person was a whole other experience. The low rasp of his voice as he kept it down, keeping their secrets between their ears and the pages of the books.

“I do. Words can not express how much I look forward to our wedding day.” When they would become man and wife, when he could take her the way they both wanted. “When I never have to worry, I can kiss you freely, in front of whoever I wish. I hate that there are barriers for us. I understand tradition, I respect it… but I can’t help but wish to break it.” He wouldn’t, but he had to hold his breath as he felt her nose brush against his own. The walls of rigid rules were so irritating for him, he wanted to make them crumble to rubble on the ground.

“I know. I crave it just as much, Harry.” She replied shakily, breath felt against his lips. “I want your touch on every part. But we have to respect the traditions. Don’t we?” She asked, feeling as though she could fall over as she felt their lips brush for a single second before his own rested over her cheek.

“We do.” He mumbled against the smooth skin. “But… I can kiss here.” His lips puckered ever so slightly on her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth. “I can kiss here… and it’s not breaking any rules. My ring is on your finger… I tend to claim you in the ways the world allows, to follow those rules.. but you are mine.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to arch into him. A little gasp left her as she felt a firmer kiss placed to her cheek again, letting their lips feather together before he placed one to the opposite side. “My bride. My queen. My heart. I will never be as proud of anything… as I am to have been chosen by you.”

Y/N let out a whimper, pulling him close and returning the gesture. Dangerously close kisses, right in the same places. Temptation. She should have pulled away, but she couldn’t. Her body pulsed, a heartbeat felt between her legs as he let out a quiet groan.

“My sweet…” he rasped. “My self control is so little. It’s merely hanging by a fraying thread. I respect you more than to take you in a library aisle…” he paused. “At least before we are married.” The thought flooded her brain, her skirts lifted up and his firm palm holding her mouth to keep her quiet. Taking her deep and slow against the shelves, filling her to the brim. Her leg hitched over his waist while fingers clawed at him- he didn’t know how he was able to wait.

“Harry…” she gasped, feeling his lips press to her jaw. “You’re making it so hard for me to behave. I need to be…” she lost her train of thought as her eyes closed, head falling back against the wood. His kisses were feather light, brushing over her jaw and making her fingers dig into his arms. If she was in this much pleasure just from this? What would it be like without all of the barriers? Would his fingers make her tingle as much on bare flesh? Would his kiss her all over?

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled against her skin. “I’m sorry…” teeth grazed her ear, making her whine. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I will stop.” He had to drag himself away from her body, tempted to nibble on her smooth neck and leave marks all over. He couldn’t. But he wanted to.

Y/N wanted to gasp at his looks. His dark gaze, eyes glinting in a darkness she had never seen before. Lust. True lust, his cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen. It would look like they did more than look for books if they were caught, but Y/N committed it to memory. She wanted this very look painted in a portrait. Her Prince’s desire for her. Nothing had ever felt more real. “My beautiful prince…” she sighed, hands prying away from his arms to hold his hands. “We must leave or we will get carried away. You’ll never forgive yourself.” She knew that much. Harry was very proud of doing this properly. Of keeping himself a gentleman.

“I know.” his fingers squeezed over hers, taking his own deep breath as he calmed himself. “I’ll behave. It is hard, having the affections of a woman as stunning as you and not be able to indulge… But I must.” Even if it pained him. He would do this properly, honor her and make her his wife before he devoured her in the way he craved.

[spectorgram]

celebration

din djarin x f! reader summary: din finds out it’s your birthday. notes: pure fluff, maybe a little suggestive at the end word count: 1.9k

“Where’re we off to this time, Mando?” you asked as he returned to the Razor Crest, a tracking puck in hand. The Child squealed upon his arrival, wiggling in your arms and reaching for his father. You chuckled softly and handed him off to Mando.

“Naboo,” he replied, holding the Child on his hip. “The quarry’s stolen from some powerful people.” The puck projected an image of a slight woman, hair long and lank, and her eyes sunken in. “Darmari Gilvale.”

“Let’s head off then!” Mando nodded and you two made your way to the cockpit. He strapped the kid into his seat behind the two of you, and you settled into the co-pilot seat.

The stars whirled past you as you flew through the galaxy. Luckily, Naboo wasn’t terribly far — no need for hyperdrive. As you cruised along, Mando asked, “Are you excited to go back?”

You can’t believe he remembered. You had mentioned it in passing that you lived in Naboo for a while before you had made your way to Tatooine, where Mando had met you while you worked with Peli. “Yeah,” you replied, smiling at him. “It’ll be great to feel a planet with moisture.”

You heard him let out a breathy laugh through the vocoder and you felt your cheeks heat a little. You weren’t really sure when you had started falling for Mando. You hadn’t even seen his face, for Maker’s sake, but it didn’t matter. You knew who he was — reliable, sturdy, and kind, something few people in the universe really were. You knew how you felt, but unfortunately, you never knew what he was thinking or what to make of moments that seemed like they held some meaning. Little, lingering touches, when he looked at you from behind his helmet for a moment longer.

You landed in Naboo rather quickly, stopping in one of the open, grassy fields just outside the city you had once lived in. As you exited the ship, the Child in your arms, you sucked in a greedy breath of air. Naboo always smelled so fresh and clean, perpetually breezy and temperate, a nice contrast from arid Tatooine.

On every planet you stopped in, you liked to stretch your legs before Mando had you go back inside so you and the Child would be safe while he went after a quarry. “How long do you think it’ll take?” you asked.

“Not long,” he answered. “Said she headed into the forests here, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll probably be back before sundown.”

“Stay safe, Mando.” He nodded and went to head off into the forest ahead of him when you both heard a loud rumble. Mando glanced back at you, and you stared down at the kid. How could someone so tiny produce that big a sound?

“Someone’s hungry,” you said and Mando nodded. “Let’s go into the city, get a quick bite to eat, and then you can hunt the quarry.” With another nod, the three of you turned in the other direction and made your way to the city.

The city was just as you remembered, lively and bustling. You pointed right and said, “There’s a nice cantina there that serves good bone broth.”

“Sounds perfect,” Mando said, taking the lead this time. The cantina was buzzing with conversation, patrons chatting over drinks and warm meals. There was a lull when you all stepped inside, customers turning to gawk at the Mandalorian. As you settled into a table, people seemed to lose interest as they resumed whatever they were doing beforehand. You lifted the Child from his pram, situating him between you and Mando. You pet the top of the Child’s head as he stood on the seat, straining to see over the tabletop.

You heard someone call your name, and you grinned when you saw Celgra approaching you, hands on her hips. “As I live and breathe,” she said, beaming at you. “Haven’t seen or heard from you since you took off for Tatooine!”

“Sorry, things have been a little hectic.”

She waved you off. “I get it, don’t worry.” Celgra noticed Mando and the Child and she raised an eyebrow at you, half-questioning, half-suggestive. “Who’re these fine folk? Your husband and kid?”

“No, no!” you replied quickly, glancing at Mando who was staring straight at you. “No, this Mando and that’s the Child — they’ve been my traveling companions.”

“I see,” Celgra said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Mando just nodded and she turned her attention to the Child. He smiled and cooed at her, and she said, “Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing? Need a highchair for him?”

“Actually,” you said, “that would be great.”

“Let me first take your orders and then I’ll get to it.”

You ordered one of their salads and Mando got some bone broth for the Child. “Nothing for you?” Celgra asked Mando and he shook his head.

“Can we also get some broth to go?”

“Of course!” Celgra chirped, “I’ll be back with that highchair.”

She turned to leave and then she seemed to remember something, adding, “I almost forgot — happy birthday!”

You laughed a little, “Can’t believe you remember that.”

“Mind like a steel trap,” she said with a wink and she went off to go get your orders and the chair.

Mando turned to you. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”

“It’s not important,” you said. “Seriously, I haven’t celebrated it in forever.” It was true. When you left Naboo and went to Tatooine, you never brought up your birthday to Peli. You weren’t lying when you said it wasn’t super important to you — it was just a marker of time, like any other day.

Still, Mando seemed almost… guilty that he didn’t say anything. “If I’d known…”

“Mando.” You reached across the table and placed your hand over his. His helmet followed the gesture. “I’m totally okay. Really.”

He didn’t seem quite convinced, but he dropped the subject for now as Celgra returned with the highchair. You strapped the Child into it, and he seemed satisfied now being able to see the whole cantina.

“Happy birthday,” Mando said, and your heart fluttered a little.

You offered him a soft smile. “Thanks, Mando.”

Celgra came back shortly after with your orders, handing you a baggie with a container of broth in it. You and the Child finished your food, and your little group made your way back to the Crest. “Stay safe,” you told Mando again as you started to head into the Crest.

“I’ll do my best,” he said and you startled a little. He never really replied to your request, only giving you nods. You watched him turn and head towards the forest, trying and failing to not admire the broad expanse of his back or the self-assured swagger to his walk.

The Child giggled in your arms, staring up at you as if he knew what you were thinking, and you gave him a playful frown. “Hush.”

Evening had arrived, and there was still no sign of the Mandalorian. As you and the Child munched on some rations stored in the ship, the take-out bone broth you had gotten Mando sitting untouched in his seat, you glanced anxiously out of the Crest’s front window. He said he’d be back by sundown; your detour into the city’s cantina hadn’t been long, so where was he?

Another fifteen minutes went by and you were pacing the cockpit, chewing on your lip and rambling to the Child, who — from the furrow of his little brow — seemed equally concerned. “He’s totally fine, right?” you asked. “He said it would be an easy job, so maybe he just got lost?” The Child gave you a slow blink and you sighed, “You’re right that doesn’t seem very Mando-like, does it?” You looked out the window again, the sky hued in indigo and fading sunset orange. “Dank farrik.”

The whoosh of the door to the Crest sounded and you glanced at the Child. It could be Mando, or it could be some intruder. It wouldn’t be the first time some had tried to ambush you here. Grabbing your blaster, you crept out of the cockpit and into the hull. Taking careful, deliberate steps, you made your way towards the door.

Relief flooded you as you saw Mando dragging the unconscious quarry behind him, hauling her towards the carbonite freezer. He stuffed her in, freezing her in the block. There was something in his other hand that you couldn’t make out.

He finally turned to see you, looking at the blaster in your hand. “Were you going to shoot me with that?” he asked, sounding mildly amused.

“Didn’t know who was coming into the ship.”

He nodded and you took a deep breath. “Where were you?” you asked, finally letting your frustration and worry out. “I— we were so worried about you! You said that this wasn’t going to go beyond sundown and yet here we are, and it’s evening! Kriff, Mando, what hap—”

He lifted up the unidentified object in his hand, and replied quietly, “I went back into the city.”

You gawked at him. “With the quarry?”

He snorted, “No, left her knocked out and tied to a tree at the edge of the forest.”

You blinked at him and decided to ask, “Why’d you go back?”

He motioned for you to step into the cockpit, where the Child had managed to pull himself up into Mando’s pilot seat, trying to break open the container of bone broth. “Hey,” you chided, picking him up despite his squirming and wiggling, “that’s for your dad, bud.”

“You got that for me?”

You nodded. “Since you can’t take off your helmet, I just thought…”

You wondered if he was smiling at you when he said, “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Then, he handed you the bag. “It’s for you.”

You tilted your head curiously, opening up the bag to find two small boxes. You took out the bigger of the two parcels and opened it, staring down at the small cake that had ‘Happy Birthday’ written out in icing on it. “Mando,” you said softly, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.” He motioned to the small box. “That’s for your birthday too.”

“Mando…” You opened it up, gaping at the opalescent pendant winking back at you. You looked at him. “This is… this is so thoughtful.” You weighed the necklace in your hand and stood, placing the cake on your seat behind you.

You drew the necklace up to your throat, and then Mando said, “Let me.” He took it gently from you and moved behind you. His fingers, gloveless, brushed against your nape and you shivered involuntarily. When had he taken them off? You had seen Mando’s hands bare only once before, and you were never quite able to shake the image of them — big and square, long tapered fingers, golden skin. They were strong and reliable, just like your Mando.

You gulped as he secured the delicate clasp, feeling the cool press of the pendant against your clavicle. He didn’t move as you slowly turned to face him, staring up at his helmet. “Mando…” you breathed out.

“Din,” he said softly. “My name is Din.”

“Din.” You savored the single syllable on your tongue.

He rested the forehead of his helmet against your own and murmured out, “Briikase gote'tuur, cyar’ika.”

Translations: Briikase gote'tuur — happy birthday Cyar’ika — darling, sweetheart