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rosenbergamot · 2 months

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if you could understand me (CH.1)

Grian's voice is soft and inquisitive when he speaks. “Now, what’s this about? What’s wrong all of a sudden?” He likes when his voice gets like this, when he talks to Scar like he’s a human despite not knowing he can understand every word he says, when he treats their one-sided conversations as actual conversations, even if the language isn't there. ‘My best friend left me’, he says. ‘He’s trying to find our family. Or get rich. I don’t know, whichever comes first, I guess. And you and Mumbo are my only friends. But I can't talk to you! And I did it to myself! It's all just so...' He forgets the word for ‘annoying’ in dolphin, so he trails off. ‘Annoying’ isn’t even the right word. It hurts. It's killing him. There’s no language that can convey that. or: Scar is a mermaid. Scar has been left behind by all of his friends. Scar is lonely. That is, until he meets two humans on the beach, and decides that playing a little joke on them would be fun. So, Scar pretends he doesn't know their language. As a bit. A little prank. But Scar doesn't expect to like them so much, and once he realizes it, he's too far in to go back.

Here's the first chapter for the day 1 prompt for Mumscarian week (pranks). I'm so excited to share this with yall! First chapter is under the read more, and there is a link attached so you can read it on ao3 as well <3 MWAH

Read the first chapter on ao3 HERE !! Or read the first chapter below the cut!! OR BOTH ^^

The humans don’t know he speaks their language.

Scar doesn’t blame them, because, well... he isn’t exactly advertising it. The moment they come onto his beach with all their silly instruments and metal things and glass tubes, scooping out water and picking up fish and inspecting clams, writing it all down on some strange flimsy pads, that's when Scar knows he has to mess with them. They're just too easy, what with their silly little faces and their "aha's" and "oho's"!

Life’s been boring (re: depressing) ever since Cub moved south. In the brief few words they exchanged before he left Scar all alone, he said it would be easier to start an industry where there were more mermaids and less humans. He said it would be better for them, for both of them, if they were to just pack up and leave, go somewhere where it's not just the two of them, where Cub can use his brain and Scar can use his charisma, and the two of them can flourish. But Scar doesn’t want an industry! He really just wants to spend his time sinking ships, breaking pieces off of said sunken ships, and creating statues. Gem used to help him with that, finding sport in crashing ships and ripping them apart with her claws. Pearl would help him get the humans to shore. Cub would sigh at them, but help them lug the materials back to their cave.

(Cub had also mentioned Gem and Pearl, as hushed as it was-- as if he was afraid to say their names after all this time, after they left with no trace. He had a theory that they went somewhere warmer, somewhere more familiar, somewhere that was easier. Scar didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything.)

That was a long time ago, though…

The first time he meets the humans it’s windy on the surface.

He lays and watches the water. The way it’s ruffled by the wind reminds him of when he and Cub would wait for boats to pass (boats , a word he learned when he was younger and more daring, peeking his head up by the docks to listen to fisherman as they talked deep into the night) so that they could chase the waves they created; man-made waves, different from the way the water breathes on its own.

It’s times like these when he wishes that Cub had stuck around. The sea snakes are only so interesting gliding across the sand until he gets bored and starts to fling them out of the water for amusement-- which apparently they don’t enjoy! And, jeez, apparently everyone’s a critic nowadays, can't handle being tossed up out of the water…

He combs through his hair, ratty and unkempt, strands coming loose as he does. Pearl used to help him maintain it. Now it’s all… annoying and long. Braiding it would help him a bunch-- would also remind him of Pearl, which could either be good or bad for his mental health right now, but he's willing to take the risk. So, yeah, he’ll braid it! Might as well do something with his time.

He starts to slowly swim through the water, searching for just the right strand of kelp to help him out. Usually the best pieces are near the shore, right where humans sometimes like to come and swim. Cub, Gem, and Pearl used to scare them away by biting chunks off their bodies, made it a competition to see who could get the most in their mouth before the humans ran away. He never participated, not as fast or as bloodthirsty as any of them, content to watch and laugh and jeer and judge. Nowadays he just nips at their toes if they're too deep in the water, sends jellyfish their way if he's feeling extra spiteful. But humans don't come around much anymore. He's not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.

If he’s lucky maybe he’ll find a piece of fishing line that some careless human left behind. It lasts much longer than kelp. Last time he had to scour the seafloor for a sharp enough rock to cut the braid because his teeth were not doing the job. Some pretty impressive stuff!

If Cub were here, he’d tell Scar to stop going so close to the shore, because one day a human is going to see him and not be intimidated by sharp teeth and claws, and they’re going to lure him in, and then they’re going to hook him and flay him open on the beach like they do with the fish.

Which is ridiculous. If they hooked him, he’d just kill them! Easy as that! And then he’d eat them! Simple plan!

(Thinking of eating a human makes his gills flare out. What do they taste like…? None of his friends would ever tell him, but they also never complained.)

In spite of the Cub in his head he moves closer to the shore, keeping his eyes sharp for a long thread of fishing line.

Humans don’t usually like wind. They yell about how it screws up their ‘casts’, how it makes sand fly into their eyes, how it blows away their stuff. Which means he’s good to go as close as he needs to! What stupid human would be out right now?

(Apparently two stupid ‘researchers’ is the answer to that.)

As soon as he bursts out of the forest of kelp, right near the dock but not close enough to be obscured by it, he realizes that there are two humans standing right where the shore meets the water. Their pants are rolled up, feet bare (prime for nibbling, might he add), and they’re talking loudly about something that Scar can’t really make out. He hadn’t been able to see them until he got closer. And now that he’s closer, it seems they saw him before he saw them.

Aw, man. Rule number one of hunting: see your prey before they see you. He’s already failed.

They yell something. A commotion. He turns to retreat, but then something splashes above his head. His immediate thought is a net. His next thought is I'm going to die.

For a second, he is frozen. For a second, he sees himself caught and hooked, cut open, hung from poles and left to die and dry in the sun. He imagines Cub coming back just to find nothing in his wake. He imagines the pain he may feel at that, the regret, and maybe that gives him satisfaction for a moment, no matter how grim and disgusting it feels inside of him. He imagines giving himself up to these humans, letting them cut him open, saying Cub and Gem and Pearl with his last breaths, imagining they can hear it from wherever they went. He shakes his head, the images disappearing.

And nothing happens. He looks up and sees... a fish. A dead fish. That's weird.

A peace offering? An apology for treading where they shouldn’t?

Bait? Says the Cub in the back of his mind.

The fish is different from what he’s used to. Not from around here. That’s interesting.

That’s dangerous, dude, sneers Cub, flicking him on his imagined forehead.

I mean, yeah… but isn’t it also interesting?

He eyes the humans. They’ve moved back, but they’re still in his water. There’s a less conscious part of him that wants to scare them off right now, prove that this is his land, that they can’t just put their gosh darn feet wherever they so please! He shoves it aside, sighing.

It’s been… pretty lonely around here without the others.

Just come meet me, man! Argues the Cub in his mind-- which is ridiculous! He knew when he left that Scar wouldn’t be able to follow. He’s not made for long distance travel; Cub is. Maybe that's why he didn't even try to convince him. Maybe that's why he was gone in the morning. Maybe he knew that Scar would say no, would stay in his home, would wait for Pearl and Gem to come back no matter how long it took.

And so that's why he left. And so that's why Scar is alone. And so that’s why Scar isn’t leaving.

(And Scar is also curious as to who these people are. They’re not coming closer, not throwing weapons at him, and they walk around with their flesh exposed just waiting for him to take a bite out of them. Do they not know? Do they think this water is safe? Do they think they can set themselves up here, as if Scar hasn't been here his entire life? The most important question, however, is: what do they taste like…?)

He moves himself out of the shadows, reaches up a hand to grab the fish. His claw digs into it, warmed by the sun, and then he yanks it down.

One of the humans screams. The other one screams immediately after, an involuntary reaction.

There’s a flailing, and then one of them loses their balance and falls face first into the water. The splash disturbs a school of fish nearby, sending them careening in Scar’s direction. He swipes his nail downwards, manages to spear one on his claws, and shoves it into his mouth.

As he chews, he sighs. Those things barely put up a fight. How boring. Wouldn't it be more fun if they tried to bite back? Maybe hit him with their little fins?

He looks at the human again and finds their eyes wide open. Looking directly at him. His stare sends a jolt down his spine, makes him straighten himself up, suddenly aware of things he hasn't been aware of in forever-- like the way his hair floats around him, how shiny his tail is, how his scars look underneath the water. So as not to startle him, Scar waves as gently as he possibly can. The human starts to scream, bubbles erupting out of his mouth. Just as quickly as he fell, he scrambles out of the water.

His hand falls. He notices, then, that there is more blood on his claws than he thought there was. There must be blood around his mouth, too. Oh, dangit. Just when he's trying to be friendly and not scary, too! They even gave him this gift! Some weird new fish, all different colours than he's used to. He turns it over in his hands, claws gently scraping a deep wound in the neck. A clean wound. It was killed swiftly, not with teeth and not with claws. And, jeez, humans are so dang strange! Where’s the fun in just killing it easily? Where’s the hunt?

The humans are out of the water now. He cautiously swims to the surface, peeking his eyes out and blinking as the sun hits his head. On the beach he sees two people screaming at each other. The one who fell in the water has a ridiculous moustache on his face, his hair short and spiked from running his hand through it. The other has curly hair, some weird circular things on his face, and a whole thing of oysters at his feet.

They gesture wildly at each other, their backs to him. On his beach. Near his water. Oh, boy, didn’t anyone ever tell them not to turn their backs on a predator? Jeez, it’s like they’re asking for him to mess with them!

“Mumbo, I thought I told you to keep your nose out of the redstone supply! It’s not for snorting, it's for powering our equipment!” The smaller one yells.

“For goodness… Grian, you know I haven’t done that stuff since college. I-I’m not on drugs, mate, I’m just… I just… I saw something.” The bigger one scratches at his head, his hands shaking.

He slowly slithers up closer, making sure his tail stays below the water, his belly to the sand. He drags himself up by his claws, keeping an eye on the two of them. They don’t seem to notice anything, too involved in their little argument to even question if what they saw had good intentions or not.

And he has good intentions! Of course he does-- of course! He just wants to scare them a little bit. Maybe take a chomp out of their legs. Maybe taste their flesh. Maybe fill his mouth up with their blood.

If it were Cub or Gem or Pearl sneaking up on them like this, they’d be dead within seconds. But Scar just wants some entertainment that’s different from staring at fish all day… actually, mostly he just wants to taste them. Like, he really wants to taste them. He’s a nice guy! Just a little bit… peckish.

And he’s getting closer. And closer. And closer.

“People don’t come to this beach for a reason, Grian! They-- the locals said that there are,” his voice gets real quiet, "spirits in the water.”

“Why on earth would spirits be in the water and not on land?”

“I don’t know, man, I’m not-- not some kind of… spirit expert! Why on earth would spirits be stuck on the land, though? How does that make sense, mate? We shouldn’t apply our own logic to spirits. Honestly, check yourself.”

The small one puts his head in his hands but says nothing. Just as Scar pulls himself out of the water, eyes trained on the heel of the bigger one, the small one’s eyes flick down to him. They’re a deep brown, almost black, magnified a bit by whatever ridiculous thing he’s got on his face.

“Mumbo.” He says. Quietly. Carefully. “Don’t look now, but there’s… something there.”

Bigger one freezes up. “Y-Y-You… Grian, this isn’t very funny. I’m not a fan of your pranks! You know this!”

Small one is still looking at him. Challenging him.

Instincts tell him that he failed this hunt and he is vastly outnumbered, but curiosity gets the better of him. He could probably still… take a bite.

A pause. Then, using all his hunting instincts, he rockets himself towards the leg, feeling his fangs dripping with saliva as he does. The small one is faster on the land, though, and tackles the big one out of his reach, his jaw snapping closed onto nothing but air.

The humans fall to the sand, and Scar slithers back into the water as quickly as possible, relief pulsing through his body. Not his best move, he’ll be honest.

“Mumbo, you absolute spoon! ” Shouts small one.

He sticks his eyes out of the water. They’re both staring at him. They go white as he blinks at them.

“Do you… heh, um… do you see that, mate?”

“That’s what just tried to take a bite out of your leg, buddy.”

“Oh. Oh, goodness.” The big one’s voice trickles off into nothing. His eyes flutter, then he collapses into the sand.

Holy shit I killed him.

A series of clicks and trills come out of his mouth before he can stop them. Mostly curses. He learned it from the dolphins around here, way back when he was younger, when Cub said that he should probably spend less time listening to humans speak and spend more time listening to ocean creatures speak. He’s pretty fluent now. What good does that do for him, though?

‘I just wanted a taste?’ He says to him in dolphin. The small one doesn’t seem to care, immediately dragging his companion’s body away from the water.

Maybe I can convince him to throw the whole body into the water? Get a full meal out of it? And some cool bones! Ohhh, I’m a genius!

And then maybe small one will stick around and he’ll have tackled two of his issues! He’ll have a new friend and a taste of human! What a perfect compromise.

Just as he’s planning the best way to convince small one to hand over the corpse of big one, suddenly he starts to stir. Scar tries not to look too disappointed. The small one is whispering to him, brushing back his hair and bringing him things that he eats and drinks, slow and unsure. The whole time Scar is there watching them. The whole time they both watch him right back, conversing in quiet voices.

But he wants to hear them! How selfish!

He swims a little bit closer.

“Stay back!” The small one barks.

He stops. A beat passes.

“Do… do you think it understands us?” The big one asks, just loud enough for him to hear.

Small one regards him with a shocking amount of unfriendliness. His fins droop at the stare.

“Uh… I’m not quite sure, Mumbo. It’s not really a human. But it’s not really a fish either. Say, what are the odds that English of all languages made its way down to the bottom of the ocean in a country colonized by England rather early? Probably quite low, yeah? Just generally speaking."

Big one appears to be thinking. “Right. Point taken. Um. Do you… do you think maybe it’s just hungry?”

“Well, I gave it a fish, Mumbo! For goodness sake, it shouldn’t be greedy.”

“It’s bigger than a normal fish, Grian! Look! It’s like the size of a whole human!” Big one gestures wildly at him, his voice going all high pitched. “D-Do you absolutely believe in your heart of hearts that just one little fish is enough to satiate something that big?”

“So you want me to give it more fish.” Deadpans the smaller one. "You want me to reward it for attacking you? For trying to take a big ol' bite out of your leg?"

“Well, if it stops the thing from attacking me again, I’d be right chuffed about that.”

A dramatic sigh, and the small one pulls himself up, walking barefoot across the shore until Scar can barely see him anymore.

Amateur move. He could just kill the big one right now and be done with it, drag his body so far down the short one won’t even know what happened. His eyes must turn hungry, because the big one starts to giggle nervously.

“Y-You… right, you’re looking at me like I’m a delicious meal right now. And I see where you’re coming from! Really, I do-- I mean, I’m not a meat eater, but if I was then I’d imagine that a human would taste pretty interesting. Maybe even good? Probably dependent on their diet. Not… not that I would eat humans if I did eat meat. Because that’s cannibalism. And that’s generally frowned upon. Illegal and unethical, one may say. And they do. Say that, that is. It’s, like, a thing written into the law.”

Alright, now Scar’s confused.

He’s wringing his hands, still talking. “Say, do you even eat humans? Because every story I’ve heard says people only really leave with a few bits of their flesh missing. Much better than being eaten whole, might I say, because at least you’re still alive, even if you are missin’ a few veins and maybe even some muscles. Pretty important, but not as important as the whole body. Or the organs.” He hums, looking like he’s genuinely intrigued himself. “Goodness, but imagine if you could just get straight to the organs. Your claws look rather sharp, you could just,” he kind of swipes his hand across his own chest, “do that. You know? Wouldn’t that be a scary thing? Gosh, am I glad you can’t understand me, because I am both speaking nonsense and giving you very good ideas.”

He is! It’s very entertaining. Scar has started to drift closer, completely forgetting about his previous goals of dragging him down and feasting on his corpse-- because if he did that, then he wouldn’t get to hear him talk! And that would be a shame! He’s got a weird accent-- both of the humans do, actually, and it’s a little hypnotic to listen to. It reminds him a bit of Pearl, but different in so many ways. And his face lights up when he talks! Even if he looks increasingly more scared the closer Scar gets.

“A-Ah, buddy, you are… you are getting quite close, aren’t you?” He scoots backwards in the sand, so Scar stops. A click. A trill. Telling him not to leave. He bows his head in submission, hopes it makes him look pathetic enough that the human will forgive his former plan to eat him and keep talking. “You… huh, that’s very interesting. That must be your language. You have a language. And you are-- you are speaking it to me right now, currently, as I speak to you, almost as if you are responding.”

Inwardly, he giggles. Outwardly, he clicks once again: ‘I’m a respondy sort of guy!’

It makes his eyes go all shiny. Cute! “Wow! You are absolutely responding to me! H-Hold on, let me get my notepad--” he trips as he stands up, sand scattering, and grabs a little slab of something and a shiny tube. He starts to move his wrist, watching him all the while. “We came here to study the water and the wildlife, environmental conservation and all that good stuff, but we really did not expect to find… whatever you are! Gosh, you’re very cool!”

‘You really think so?’ He slaps his tail against the surface of the water, puffing up his chest. The human gets a glimpse of his tail and nearly drops his stuff, mouth falling open. He smiles, hoping his teeth aren’t still all bloody and off putting.

As the human moves his wrist, he speaks aloud, “multicoloured scales on tail… bared teeth at me, unsure if sign of aggression? ”

The small one is coming back now. He’s way too fast! Scar is enjoying this big one and the funny ways he speaks and how his eyes look when he’s excited and the way he admires his tail! He does not like the way the smaller one glares at him as if he’s done something wrong. He didn’t do anything!

He only tried to do something. Very different, right?

“Mumbo, what the heck are you doing?” He cries. He’s carrying three more fish. “The thing is right there!”

“Yeah, mate, but it’s been docile! It’s just watchin’ me! Listen, Grian, it-- it made these sounds,” he tries to imitate what Scar said, failing so miserably that he has to submerge himself to roll around on the seafloor, his laughter attracting some curious fish that he can’t even eat because he’s so busy giggling . When he comes back, the guy is still talking. “...and honestly I’m not quite sure if the previous display of submission was because it felt bad or was trying to be peaceful or-- Grian, I’m not certain how aware it is, honestly? It seems like it knows what’s happening. And… it’s got a human face.”

“I see that, Mumbo.” Small one studies him. He studies him right back. Small one is less curious, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still curious. He just hides it well. “I… look, I’m honestly not sure what to do with it. Like, obviously let it go, yeah, but it doesn’t seem to want to leave. Animals don’t tend to stick around like this.”

“It’s not an animal!”

‘Exactly! I’m just like you! Except only kind of. I'm missin' the whole legs part.’ He clicks and trills at them.

“See?!” Big one is happy again. His chest flutters. “It’s-- they’re listening to us! They may not be able to understand us, but they’re still capable of speech.”

The small one comes closer to the water. He watches as he bends down, placing the fish at the shore, waggling a finger at him. “Don’t you dare attack me when I’m here to give you food, or I’ll be quite pissed off.”

Ohhh, it would be so funny if he attacked him. But he won’t! He’s a man of many talents, and one of those talents includes restraint.

(But it would be really funny if he did it, still.)

He swims up slowly, so as not to startle them. The small one takes a step back. He picks up a fish and stares at it. It looks equally as shocked as he is to see it, eyes frozen over in a permanent state of disbelief. Still, he’s hungry, so he shoves it into his gullet and devours it, licking blood and viscera off of his lips as he stares up at them.

“I’m gonna be sick,” the big one says.

“Huh.” The smaller one is smiling, now, his suspicions softening. “Y’know, Mumbo… they’re rather cute, wouldn’t you say?”

His ears pin back to his head. He’s what? Cute?!

“You-- what the heck , Grian? They just devoured a fish in front of you and you think that's cute? Your priorities are... man, I don't even know what to say."

“N-Not in that way! God, I’ve just gone and embarrassed myself, haven’t I?”

“That’s practically a human! You can’t flirt with the person we just met out of the ocean, Grian, have some tact!”

“But they’re not practically a human! They’ve got a whole… whole fish half, Mumbo!” He devours another fish. They’re both looking a bit apprehensive now. “Um. Yeah, this is a whole mermaid situation, for sure.”

“And mermaids are basically human!”

“Well, we don’t know that? We didn’t know they were real until about,” he checks something on his wrist, “oh, I don’t know, thirty minutes ago?! And I wasn’t flirting, you strange man! It’s just… they looked happy to have some food.”

He’s not wrong about that. Scar’s happy to eat! Happy to be in the sun! Happy to be talking to a few humans even if they seem to think he can’t understand them! Happy to be playing a little trick on them the most!

“Huh.” Big one seems to relax. He looks at Scar, his head tilting. “Yeah, I guess they did. Say, do you think they’re struggling for food out here?”

“Maybe?” Small one steps closer, as if to get a better look at him, and yet it still frightens something deep inside of him. He snatches his fish and dives under the surface. He can hear him apologizing. He comes back up, a better distance away, and tries to soothe the nerves that jitter around in him.

Smaller one struggles for words for a second. “I’m sorry, mate, I-- shit… Mumbo, I think we’ve found something else interesting to observe.”

“Oh, what could be more interesting than…” he looks down at the stuff around his feet. “Measuring water contents and looking to see if the oysters have any genetic mutations? What could we possibly observe that would be more fun than that?”

They both grin at each other, and whatever little nuanced message they communicate via their eyes goes completely over Scar’s head, but still... he’s got a feeling he just made two new friends today.

#mumscarian week #day1prompt #mumscarian #hermitshipping #hermitfic #mumscarian week 2024 #grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #me showing up late to the function with blood on my hands after writing this like #hey guys im sooo normal im feeling sooooo normal right now #if you could understand fic #thats my tag for this. decided.#EEEE SO EXCITED TO SHARE THIS WITH YALL

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caitlynnrosespn · 5 months

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My Brezziana backstory, written specifically for @thxrnking !! I'll try to keep it brief but uhhhh... it's a lot!:D

So in 2019 we were introduced to an interesting couple- these two.

If you are unfamiliar with these characters:

This is Rita Piña. First introduced in JD 2016 as the first Just Dance drag queen, she was the coach for Drop The Mambo.

And this is the coach for Love Me Again, from 2015. We have no canon name for him, so I named him Mateo.

Mateo and Leon (who I hc to be Rita out of drag) are the adoptive parents of Brezziana. I saw this because I totally see Brezz's love for orange and her iconic blue jacket being inspired by them.

Also should mention that most of this past this point is just my headcanons, so stick with me.

Brezziana was originally born to two young influencers, both of whom were severely under qualified to raise a child, especially one they found out was hard of hearing (this actually has some canonical value, there was a post on the French page with official art that gave Brezziana hearing aids), so they decided to put her in foster care in hopes she'll end up with more qualified parents. Leon and Mateo adopted her, and were big influences to her love of dance and inspiring others.

Her bio parents ended up having another child though.

Gabriela, P1 from Wasabi Alt from 2024.

I will DIE on the hill that Gabi is Brezz's little sister. Sane hair, similar color palette, both Dancity maps. That's enough for me.

Gabi was also given to Mateo and Leon, since theor parents decided that Gabi should be with her older sister.

Then, tragedy struck:3

Leon was taken away from them in an accident (she is the only drag queen not to make another appearance since 2019 in game) leaving Mateo heartbroken. Gabi was still very young, so Brezziana took it upon herself to pick up the broken pieces. She was going to be the strong one.

She spent her entire life being stronger, being the one to motivate others. She as an adult became an influencer, partially because it was the best job for her personality and partly because she kind of wanted to meet her bio parents (she never did).

That's why Nightswan targeted her giving spirit, knowing that no one had poured into her for years. All these people she was so strong for... yet who was strong for her?

AS FOR MY RAREPAIR.

Now. It's kind of odd, but no unwarranted judgement.

This is the Bad Habits coach from 2022 (also my personal favorite map). My friend @iconafvckinshard has given him the name Kam, short for Kameron, along with the coolest lore ever but that's for him to share not me. Don't want to steal his ideas or make them seem as my own. Just know I see it all as canon.

There's a few reasons I ship these two. Number one, both from Dancity. Number two, they're flow has a similar neon look to each other. And Number three.

All of their maps are choreographed by the same person, Jerky Jessy. But there's a difference between the two.

Brezzianas maps require so much strength, making you dig deep and give everything until by the end there's nothing left to give. Kams is also tiring, but more controlled. You need strength in your core, and you still have energy left after his dance.

While Brezziana gives until she litteraly can not, Kam knows when to give a little and when to give a lot. He's someone she can fall back on... when she learns to let someone else be strong for her.

Hope this made sense, hope yall like it, please ask for permission before using as your own!!!

#just dance #just dance 2023 #just dance 2024 #brezziana jd #just dance brezziana #its 5 am now lmaoooo #woops

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hausofmamadas · 2 months

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MURDER HUSBANDS | Wind them up and watch them go (love letter to NBC’s Hannibal)

♫ To the tune of Climbing Up the Walls by Radiohead (with overture by Bruno Battisti D’Amario) ♫

✧

Wow

So I feel like I say this every time. But Mary mother of god, this was a behemoth. By a mile the hardest vid I’ve ever made joke’s on me bc I’m the fucking crackerjack who decided to tack on an whole ass other song as an overture bc why in the name of all cocks would I decide to make anything easy like it’s funny bc I always have an impression of how easy a vid is going to come together when I get the idea, right. And this duo with this song just pbj. So ngl I thought the shit was gonna edit itself. But guess what yall? Radiohead like … makes some intricate, complex-sounding shit stunning revelation, almost as if that’s what they’re fuckinfjsbs known for

HOWMEVER, the day has come, it’s arrived and I’ve looked at this thing for so long now, I sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, cannot tell if it’s good anymore. My last vid, I took a long break so by the end, I had enough time away from it to remember it was at least good. This? This could be visual gobbledygook, mush for your eyes, the equivalent of that shit brown shade you get when you mix too many water colors together.

But likehopefully it’s not and you can pls enjoy this love letter to one of the greatestqueer romances in modern media, which is a bold statement whatever fight me but I can’t think of a queer ship before this in tv/movies where the romance unfolds like any other hetero relationship and queer identity isn’t the focus, which even though I think is important, lbr there’s more to gays than being gay. Like it’s kinda visionary, despite the fact that neither character is explicitly queer, when it becomes clear that they’re in love with each other, no one, in-universe, is pearl-clutching all: EGAD! But Will’s never been with 😱a man😱 before?? How in THE DICKENS could he be in love with Hannibal when I don’t have definitive proof he’s even touched tips with another man let alone been balls deep!!!!!!!! How dare he not have this big, gay awakening for us all to gawk at applaud for!!!!” ?

No, literally every character: Jack, Alana, Bedelia, Margot, Mason, even Will’s wife god bless I cannot remember her name but she deserved better *shakes fist at Will* etc., all acknowledge the transcendent romantic bond btwn them and no one questions it. Well, no one questions it thru the lens of performed queerness. Tbf ppl had a lotta questions about the like probable impending multiple murders which validsisjwh

These are just 2 ppl who’re in love with each other to the point of being uncontrollably homicidal Which like … goals? Like I’ve really wracked my brain and can’t think of another queership that unfolds like every other hetero ass love story. That is to say, where fluidity is more the default, at least to the extent that no one talks about the orientation of either players within the show’s universe. Regardless of whether Bryan Fuller intended that from the start which tbh I don’t think he did but I also don’t think it’s fair to call it queerbaiting. I think he let the story unfold and realized kinda with the rest of us that this was a magical!realism romance and not a crime procedural and by S3 leaned tf into it doesn’t really matter bc the universe in which these two exist to truss each other up like Christmas turkeys aka foreplay symbolizes so much more to me than whatever it was initially invented to be. And if it’s not art, folks, idk what is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ofc I mean the show is art, not the vid. Vid=potential gobbledygook

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youtube

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taglist: @tofuwildcard @narcolini @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc

#Hannibal #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannigram #nbc hannibal #fan edit #fan trailer #also I know it’s been said before #but these two walked so Louis and Lestat could fly #except Lestat could already fly but like ygwim #mine #tribute video #y’know what I realized Xena is another undercover gay experiment #but I would argue they’re more queer coded since their gay love wasn’t confirmed until well after the show was over #but they deserve honorable mention bc the writers didn’t shy away from the subtextual gay love #or spend a ton of time dangling it in our faces only to turn around and punk us …. Supernatural you know who you are

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shellibisshe · 1 year

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–oc tag game

tagged by @corvosattano @jackiesarch @marivenah @nuclearstorms @leviiackrman @nightbloodbix @chuckhansen and @queennymeria thank you all!

i think this has made it's rounds but tagging @loriane-elmuerto @jendoe @florbelles @unholymilf @denerims @risingsh0t @indorilnerevarine @lizzywizzy @ladysanjo @teamhawkeye @benwishaw @ghostfvcker and anyone else!

buckle up yall im going to get sappy. also super ungodly long post under the cut IM SAPPY

– favorite oc.

spencer clarke [the quarry]

i say it a lot but. she is me i am her. like actually, spencer has only been an oc for like a week and she has taken such a tight hold on my brain. I pour a lot of myself into my ocs, but i think spencer is the oc that has really gotten the most. she is the closest to a self insert i think out of all of them, she shares a lot of my behaviors and such. but she is just so fun for me to talk about (im sorry to lori and aj) and figuring her out has been such a blast.

amara owens [infamous: second son]

MISS AMARA CELESTE OWENS. I've had her for as long as i've had the fc5 clowns, or maybe even longer. Amara is an oc that makes me really happy. for a while, i never knew where i wanted to put her; i tried making her a multifandom oc but it just didn't feel right. then i played infamous: second son and it felt like everything just clicked with her. she's one of my most important ocs, no one else have i played the same game 6 times for.

marian ramos de-león [red dead redemption 2]

ms marian is also one of my oldest ocs, she's a little younger than the fc5 clowns, but she's also one of my favorites. she's another really fun character for me to think about. it was so fun to play the game and know exactly where she would be and what she would say. while i haven't done much with her canon or sadie au, making this new, spooky au for her was some of the most fun i've ever had with an oc. using concepts that i've always been a fan of but never really used has been so fun and it all clicks so well with marian

sylvie green [call of duty: modern warfare 2019]

my child whom i share custody of with lori. she has been one of my favorites for almost a year now, another one that has helped me figure out some stuff about myself, and like spencer she truly did grab onto my brain and has not let go. i never thought i'd make an oc for cod, let alone like,,,22 including side characters. half the fun has been getting to bounce ideas off of lori, and sylvie is absolutely one of those ideas. most things about her-- her name, her face, her backstory, even her ship-- are all lori's amazing ideas and i am so happy to have both of them in my life.

honorable mentions: elenore parker, hanan shepard, iseul jeong, corinne sorrell

– newest oc.

spencer clarke [the quarry]

like i said! i've only had spencer for like,,,4 days i think atp. but i love her a lot. with it being summer time here, i started thinking about the quarry again and jacob those that have been here u know i see a himbo i have to make a partner for them and decided it might be fun to make an oc for a horror game for a change! and i'm really happy i did.

jackie castillo [marvel]

more of lori's influence, seeing them talk about Asra and the rest of their marvel ocs made me want to make my own. Jackie is still a bit of a wip, but i love her all the same and i really do need to do some development on her.

blake liu [marvel]

my other marvel girlie. even more of lori's influence. Riri's roommate turned fellow kidnappee turned girlfriend. Asra's adopted daughter. Blake is so many things but everything clicks so well for her. another one i need to develop more, but i am so happy to have her as well.

thalia [assassin's creed: odyssey/origins]

thalia's some kind of phoenix-rising-from-the-ashes deal, but in a like, i scrapped one oc and made her. when i was overhauling Amara, i decided her assassin's creed au didn't really work, but i wanted an oc for odyssey so bad; so enter Thalia. she's one of my more stick in the mud characters but i still love her a lot.

honorable mentions: daphne palmer, silas kane, noah callaghan, andy kwan, rhea dawn

– oldest oc. (also; the favorites pt.2)

elenore parker [far cry 5]

you all knew she'd be here. the blueprint. the very first clown. the batshit insane queen herself. the reason i made this blog. Elle has been through a lot. and i've been through a lot at the same time. she's been there for me as a creative outlet through a lot of bullshit and i am so thankful for her. making her let me deal with some of my own trauma in a way. she's one of the only ocs that i shove into different ships and aus, and every one just works so well for her. she's gotten a bit of an overhaul recently and i'm even more happy with her now.

emily parker [far cry 5]

i can't talk about Elle without Emily. Emily is also a very self inserty character but she's also someone i wish i could be somehow. I don't lean on her as much as i lean on Elle, but i enjoy messing with her every time i do. she's an older oc, but there's still things that are up in the air about her namely if i will ever commit to shipping her with Wheaty.

margo seed [far cry 5]

Margaret Elizabeth Seed, the only oc i have argued with someone about. she was the very first ship kid, such a commanding presence; ever since making her it almost felt like she made herself if that made sense? another one that things just really clicked with; she's also my first aroace oc, and that has become very important to me. she stands on her own, she's another one that i want to be like when i grow up.

daniel seed [far cry 5]

the second ship kid. Daniel almost didn't exist, but i decided Margo could benefit from a narrative foil of sorts. he was a bit of a hassle, he was my first male oc and as such i couldn't land on a face claim for the longest time which was really frustrating for me. he and Margo are both such fun characters to write for, i love how i've managed to make them so similar and so different at the same time.

warren armstrong [far cry 5]

Warren was made at the same time, or close to the same time, as Daniel. he's the first oc that I have actually come up with a family for though, and that has become somewhat of a trend because of him. Warren took a second to really figure out, but he fits in so well with the twins and their shenanigans once i did. I don't talk about him nearly as much as i should, but he is also one of my favorites.

honorable mentions: fern solace, ashlee burrell, katherine boyer, judith burch, kennedy ryder, amara owens

– meanest oc.

ines cousland [dragon age origins]

I have a lot of violent or manipulative ocs (i think, at least), but none of them are on the level that Ines is. Ines walks around with a sort of chip on her shoulder about the world she lives in. she's composed and calculating and power hungry. she makes a lot of cruel and sort of impulsive decisions as a warden, but she is always one step ahead of those that challenge her. she knows she has enemies and she will stop at nothing to ruin their lives just for the fun of it. she's also incredibly ambitious as well; she wanted to be one of, if not the most, powerful people in Thedas, and she would stop at nothing to get herself there.

rhea dawn [fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood]

Rhea is not nearly as malicious as Ines is but she has her moments. she's not technically a villain, but she's also not really going out of her way to help the heroes either. she's never really had any second thoughts about her actions, she will take her own side before anyone else's. she knows she's one of the most powerful alchemists in the world, and if that inspires some fear then so be it.

levi choi [call of duty: modern warfare 2019]

he has to be here, but he's not really that mean compared to the two above. Levi's that friend that is always brutally honest, the one that you just want to fight sometimes because of it. he's not afraid to say what he thinks, he never writes a check that his ass can't cash, and you will hear about it if you piss him or his friends off.

honorable mentions: raina hawke, scott ryder, morgan brooks, noah callaghan, althea elowen, minerva siobhan, katherine boyer, shannon turner

– softest oc.

melanie vargas [the last of us]

Mel is another oc that got somewhat of an overhaul. when hbo tlou came out, i decided i didn't like the direction i went with her, so i scrapped it and started over. she turned out a lot softer this time, being reworked to be one of the friendliest faces of Jackson now. she is a bit more of a background character now because of her role in the universe, but i think that works out better for her.

amara owens [infamous: second son]

my favorite daughter here once again. Amara is one of the softer characters in the main cast of second son but that's not to say she's a pushover either. she would do anything for her friends, she would give anything to help a stranger. she's just one of those ocs that radiates a lot of positive energy and light.

kennedy ryder [mass effect: andromeda]

another one that's soft but is not a pushover. Kennedy would do anything to help anyone in need, but she will not let her kindness be taken advantage of by anyone. she's seen a lot, she's been through a lot, but she doesn't let it get to her. she's also the resident optimist of the gang, which can be a blessing and a curse.

nettie hayes [red dead redemption 2]

nettie, however, is too soft for her own good. maybe. she's the most optimistic oc of mine, always has her rose colored glasses on. in her mind, her world is a lot more idyllic than it is. she is a bit of a pushover as well; she can recognize when she's being screwed over but she won't do anything about it. she wears her heart on her sleeve and is probably the most sensitive of my ocs

honorable mentions: veris lavellan, bea morgan, daphne palmer, taylor ross, daniel seed

– most aloof/standofish oc.

arden [potion permit]

she's quiet, she keeps to herself, she doesn't say much. Arden's not like this because of something that's happened to her, i think you could say; moreso, it's her line of work that made her like this. Arden tries to not get attached because she knows most people she deals with will only be in her life a short period of time. most people, not all of them.

honorable mentions: rhea dawn, spencer clarke, thalia, katherine boyer, ines cousland, nadine hayek

– dumbest (affectionate) oc.

veris lavellan [dragon age: inquisition]

Veris Rila, my first inquisitor, one of the dimmest lightbulbs in my chandler but she still shines. she is the very definition of 'just trying her best.' she's smart in her own way, one that does not make sense to anyone but herself. she's also impulsive, almost out of spite at this point.

honorable mentions: daniel seed, margo seed, blythe trevelyan, silas kane

– smartest oc.

gwen khoury [uncharted]

Dr. Gwendolyn Mila Khoury, Ph.D. Gwen learns shit just for the fun of it honestly, and she will spout off if given the chance. she is incredibly, and sometimes annoyingly, curious. Gwen will pick up a new language or skill just to learn something new.

hanan shepard [mass effect]

another knowledge sponge, Hanan loves to learn about anything she can get her hands on. ship engineering, biotics, alien languages-- Hanan will find something new to learn whenever she can. and she will not hesitate to info dump on the nearest person.

andy kwan [tomb raider]

Andy! another incredibly bright mind. she's working on her masters in ecosystems ecology for much of the tomb raider shenanigans, and she uses these trips for her own personal research. she's not quite on the 'learning something new just for shits and gigs,' but that does not stop her from constantly taking in some knowledge somehow

honorable mentions: amara owens, ethan moreno, taylor ross, spencer clarke, emily parker, iseul jeong, daphne palmer, nadine hayek, alicia rossi, jules rossi, blake liu, arden

– oc you'd be friends with irl.

spencer clarke [the quarry]

we're ending where we started. i put spence in this category because i really do mean it when i said she is me. her behavior and personality is so similar to my own. she's another oc that is really someone i wish i could be like.

honorable mentions: daniel seed, taylor ross, ethan moreno, veris lavellan, blythe trevelyan, amara owens, blake liu, kennedy ryder, bea morgan

#im not tagging all of them if you want to know more than check out my oc page!#long post #tag game

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staticshipstation · 7 months

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HEYA PHANTOMMMM!!! feel like i should ask you these- if dingodile wants to answer these too he can! (yall both are neat and cool and i will heavily admit this.)

for the f/o useless asks thingy 1 and 4!! -@a-special-ship-safe-space

1. "what's the weirdest petname s/i has ever called you? what's the weirdest petname you've ever called them?"

"Ah, petnames! TRULY an art that I'm great at..." He pauses

"d..did you say weirdest.." he cleared his throat "Well the great and totally smooth phantom has.. never had weird pet names.. I suppose that one time I called them my "Overworked Toaster" was a bit strange-" he adjusted his collar "But it was a mere slip up amongst my SEA of genius pet names!" he regains his composure.

“I’m the queen of weird pet names. BEST one Ive come up with yet is “My shrimp fried rice”” He admits a little chuckle.

4.What's your second favorite memory of s/i?

"There are a few memories that I cherish dearly.. " He mused some thoughts.

"There was this one time my love had been helping me with a rehearsal and as I sung I had noticed a noise.. humming. My darling had been humming with my song." He chuckled fondly "I never spoke up about it but it was.. sweet."

"Oh mate I have STORIES." The hybrid wags his tail "I remember this one time where Buttah brought home some ingredients home after a storm. Poor dear was drenched. I decided before I started cooking I'd help them dry off using an old rag I had. The way they leaned into my touches.. it was sweet."

#🍞bread and butter🍞#self shipping #self shipper #self insert #romantic f/o #f/ovember #🎶sparks of passion🎶

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lordstormageddidnt · 5 months

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Alfie's End of Year Rec List 2024

Out of 447,090 words and 141 total fics, this year I wrote a whole 224k and 78 fics, which is a lot more than last year. I wrote for 10 different ships this year, including 3 new ones. Yay for progress, I guess.

Anyway, to celebrate a rather productive year here at the_oncoming_stormageddon's AO3 dashboard, I've decided to compile a list of all of my favorite fics that I would reccommend :D number three will shock you!

In a shocking turn of events, I lied, sorry. This is about my graphs. It's always about my graphs. All graphs are up to date as of 12/21/2023, and there isn't even a missing word somewhere that has to be accounted for!

(Did I type all of this up, realize I had another fic to post, and then have to go back in and fix everything? ...perhaps)

Anyway. Let's start with Taylor Swift.

As always, "Other" corresponds to fics with titles from other artists, "Non-Album" refers to titles from Taylor Swift songs that aren't on an album or are unreleased, and "None" refers to titles that weren't from any lyrics. Orville Peck and Maisie Peter were the big contributors to the "other" category this year. The second graph shows the percent of the number of fics, while the first graph is the combined word count. Also, I did have 1 fic with an If This Was a Movie title, and I categorized it under "Speak Now TV" instead of Fearless TV. Yell at me about it in the comments if you really care, since it's technically incorrect.

Last year, I had a big Fearless slice because of the Hey Stephen series, and it was kind of surprising to me to see how much I slowed down in doing those, with Fearless only having 4 fics to its name. The disparity between the number and word count of the evermore was a little odd to me, until I realized that my longest fic ever (Tuesday Night at Olive Garden, a destiel murder mystery) was named after an evermore song. One thing that did not surprise me was folklore only having 1 fic, because that is my least favorite album.

So...the destiel thing...

The SPN hyperfixation took hold of me in Feb/March of this year and has not let go yet. Looking at my all-time graphs (where its about 33%/40% destiel/solangelo for word count), I didn't think it was that bad, but plugging in the numbers for just this year...uh, yeah. It's that bad. Sorry.

I had a really strong streak of posting solangelo every month until March hit. Again, destiel hyperfixation in visual form. This year, I wrote lokius (L/MMM, from the show Loki) and sterek (DH/SS, from the show Teen Wolf) for the first time. I also posted destiel (C/DW) for the first time (the bad destiel fics of middle school alfie are staying in locked docs where they belong).

As expected, I had a bit of a drop-off in the summer months, but it was surprising for me to see that it never went back up after school started again. Last year, I had a huge spike in September, October, and December, but this year stayed relatively mellow. Next year, I'd really like to see which trend I follow monthly.

Anyway, that's the end of the graphs I have prepared for you (I will spare yall from the more complicated ones). Next year, I'd really like to start finishing up some of the unresolved fics and series I have (mostly solangelo ones that got drowned in the destiel flood). I'm doing my first ever big bang (for the Professor Layton fandom), so katriana (KL/EP) will make it onto my graphs for next year, as will destiel and solangelo.

Thanks for reading & I hope you enjoyed :D congrats on making it to 2024!

#alfie #alfie fic #alfie graph #fic recs

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221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

sweaty hands, reluctant hearts

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 13685 (god this wasn’t supposed to be this long I’m actually sorry this time)

Warnings: Angst and Smut (my fav). Hurt/Jealous Mando -> Touch Starved/Rough Mando -> Fluffy Mando -> Shy Mando. Penetrative Sex. Oral Sex. There’s lot’s of sweat because exertion yall. Breeding Kink 😏. Slight Exhibitionism. Overstimulation and slight slight non-con because of oversensitivity. Umm, squirting 🙃. Dirty/Sweet talk. Spanking (ass and hoohaa).

Summary: He never thought the day would come when he’d hear you saying you wanted to leave him. Yes there was an understanding between the two of you that you were hired to help him care for the Child and to somehow keep the Razor Crest alive and working. And he knew it made sense for you to find work elsewhere now that the Razor Crest was destroyed and the Child was with his own kind. But he just assumed you weren’t going to leave considering it’s been a couple of months since he’d given the kid to the Jedi and you never brought it up. It hurt hearing you say those words, especially when he realized he wasn’t meant to hear them and that you were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people. Turns out, all Mando needed was to see the Marshal eye-fucking you as you fixed the new ship and overshared your thoughts for him to snap and finally make a move. Hopefully he can change your mind...

A/N: Yall, this is post Season 2 so sadly Grogu is not here, hence the angst! Umm, this was a lot to handle because you know, that gif here. Enjoy ☺️

It’s been months since the events that transpired on the cruiser. Months since he’d given away a piece of himself to an unknown being. Months since he’d sat down and re-evaluated his life’s mission. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to return to Tatooine of all planets but he needed some time to think of his next steps. So much has changed over the course of the past year and it took the Mandalorian longer than usual to realize that he can’t use bounty hunting to fill the void in his heart.

One thing he did know for sure, however, was that he couldn’t have managed to survive the emotional and physical changes without your presence. Somehow, you’ve managed to make his life easier and by a whole lot. He has never felt this grateful for having a companion, maker, didn’t even think it possible to ever consider another as such. He’d spent years and years living by the Creed and never once doubting his way of living, but he found himself questioning everything about himself when you came in. It wasn’t that he was suddenly open to the idea of taking his helmet off or anything, it was more of a passing thought on what it would be like if he were to open up to you more, perhaps even share with you more than his name and an abridged version of how he became a Mandalorian.

He mulled over how he would approach the topic with you, finding himself growing more nervous when he considered how you’d react. You’ve never given him any inclination of ever thinking of him as more than your boss and he knew he needed to figure out a way to make this seem natural and not forced. Frankly, he found it interesting how you managed to read him better than anyone he’s ever met, and he wished he could ask you how you’d done so when he never took off his helmet.

Mando pushed the thought aside for now, cursing to himself as he dragged the giant piece of scrap you’d requested for him to pick up from Peli. He wanted to argue with you then, tell you that the only reason for coming to this awfully hot planet was to take some time off, if that was even possible, and avoid falling into the temptation of another mission. But he couldn’t find it in himself to say any of these things, mostly because you were the one that managed to procure the new ship for him and you were also the one that told him the two of you were in serious need of rest. He’d only realized the ship needed fixing when he landed and you told him you would get right on as soon as he picked up the necessary pieces from Peli. He felt a little out of the loop when he’d gone to her and found her giving him everything you’d requested for, and he knew you must have contacted her before you landed or else she wouldn’t have been this quick.

As he made his way through the quiet “streets” of Mos Pelgo, he thought back to what Peli said to him an hour ago. Had he not considered her as a friend, he would have responded rudely when she bugged him about you. As much as he wished to humor the idea that you looked at him as more than a colleague, partner, whatever it was the two of you were, he didn’t want to grow any more false hope, especially now that he’d already given up the one thing that managed to crawl into his heart.

Mando saw that you’d moved the ship behind the cantina and he chose to blame the heat for the way his skin crawled with goosebumps because no, he didn’t suddenly feel calm at the thought of you.

He shook his head from the intruding thought and was about to say something to you when he saw who was standing nearby. If there was ever a time where he didn’t wish to see Cobb Vanth, it was definitely now. The bounty hunter put down the scraps of metal before moving closer to where the two of you were standing. He was sheltered behind a shack of sorts and allowed his heart rate to return to normal before listening in on you.

“I don’t believe you sweetheart.” The Marshal threw back his drink and shook his head when you shrugged your shoulders at him and Mando felt his stomach twist at the endearment. Since when were the two of you on such a close basis?

“Believe whatever you want Marshal, I was only answering your question. Besides, it’s not like I’m actively looking right now.” Mando watched as you swiped the sweat rolling down your face with the back of your hand and swore when he felt the fabric of his pants grow tighter around his crotch. He felt dirty watching your every move, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the way your muscles gleamed under the excruciating sun rays. He cursed the day you bought that garment and he recalled back to the first time he watched you work in it. Mando had almost tripped over the child that day because he never expected to see you walking around with the chest binding so visible to his eyes. It was worse when you reached up high for something because if his eyes lingered long enough, he could see your undergarment peeking from the low-hanging pants of the overalls.

The bounty hunter had to take a few deep breaths to move on from the inappropriate thoughts he was having and he narrowed his eyes at Cobb when he saw him walk closer to you.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” The Mandalorian watched as your expression shifted slowly to a more sombre look and he was familiar enough with you to know that you weren’t too happy with that question or the answer you were going to give Cobb.

“I- I don’t know. I wish I could tell him about how I fe- what I’m thinking about but I can’t...and I also can’t just say ‘Hey Mando, I had a blast taking care of the kid and getting hunted by the kriffing Empire. I fixed the ship for you so see you later.’ It’s not right and I didn’t realize it would be this difficult to come to terms with what I have to do. But I can’t keep doing this, it’s not fair.”

Whatever the Mandalorian thought you were going to say, that certainly didn’t make the top of the list. He almost fell back when he registered the meaning behind your words. You wanted to leave. You’ve been wanting to move on for a while and you weren’t sure how to tell him. You were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people and relying on his opinion to decide what you were going to do. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind and he tried to see if he’d done anything wrong. Besides the whole thing with Gideon and Bo Katana, there wasn’t really anything he’d done that would inspire such a reaction from you. Not that those weren’t enough to change your mind about staying with him but it was all in the past now.

The sound of laughter broke Mando out of his haze and he turned towards you again, watching as you slithered down the ship, clenching his fists tightly when he saw Cobb grab your hips to help you down. He was torn between strutting towards the two of you and punching the daylights out of him and remaining where he was to listen in on your conversation. He had no right to do either, but he needed to know.

“I hate to ask you this question because it defeats the whole purpose of this entire chat but...have you thought of how he’d take it? Should you decide on-” You pointed to something on the floor and Cobb leaned down to grab it for you, handing it and gauging your reaction to his question as you continued to work.

“Why else do you think I’ve been putting this off? Of course I’ve thought of how he’d react. But I deserve more than...ugh, I don’t mind this, I swear I don’t, but I also can’t just sit back and pretend I don’t want more.” You motioned violently to the ship and to what you were doing as you spoke, shaking your head at the man smiling smugly in front of you before throwing out the tools and snatching his drink from him.

Mando couldn’t stand to be near you, not after what he’d heard and certainly not after taking in your body language and the way Cobb was practically undressing you without shame. He stepped back, leaving the scraps where they were and heading to the cantina to take his mind off of what he’d just witnessed. He walked in and paid no mind to the patrons scattered across the room, handing the man behind the counter more credits than he cared to count and asking him for his strongest stuff. He didn’t bother to address the judgmental stare he was receiving and took hold of the bottle before walking out again.

It was close to sunset and the Mandalorian walked until the edge of the town before deciding to continue until he reached a small hill filled with large boulders. Sliding down one of the rocks, he sighed deeply before taking off his helmet, the hissing sound instilling a sense of guilt deep in his chest. He was ashamed at feeling such an emotion towards what he based his entire life on. But he couldn’t take it anymore. His anger rose as he opened the large bottle in his hand, throwing it back until he felt the stinging drink burn his throat for a few seconds before aggressively setting it on the floor next to him.

Mando wasn’t able to put what he was feeling into a proper string of thoughts but he did know it was an odd mixture of hurt and anger with a tiny bit of sexual frustration. He couldn’t get the image of you sweaty and heaving as you worked on his ship out of his mind, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back to meditate back on the way your muscles clenched and pulled every time you molded two metal scraps together or how they positively shined when you carried things across the sand. He’d tried his hardest to set all of these feelings and rather inappropriate thoughts aside but he couldn’t any longer. Not when there was a chance of you leaving him, and perhaps to someone like the Marshal too.

Perhaps it was unwise to deny his heart’s desires for so long and Mando was sure that he’d met his breaking point because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Normally, he was able to distract himself and force his mind to stray away from conjuring up the filthiest images of you wreathing and crying beneath him as he drove his cock into your heat. But he had no hold over his mind at this moment, not that he was to blame. He went from shutting his own self out to opening the floodgates, and there was no going back.

He sighed heavily when his thoughts shifted to what you said about him and he took a long sip from the bottle before turning his attention to the setting suns. He didn’t know what he could even say if you ever approached the topic with him. You’d been wanting to leave for a while now and somehow managed to hide it from him. All those nights spent running from Moff Gideon and other bounty hunters and you haven’t complained once, choosing to keep it to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was hurt because you felt the need to hide something like this from him or because you were awfully understanding of how these complaints could distract him.

And then there was the whole thing with the ship. He had assumed that the two of you sort of shared it now but it seemed that you never saw it as belonging to you but only to him. And you went out of your way to fix it now when you didn’t have to. Mando didn’t notice his tears until he licked his drying lips and tasted the saltiness across his mouth. He wiped his cheeks and laughed at himself. When had he become like this? First it was the child and now you.

He wished he could take it all back, to have never met the kid or you. His life was simple and not complicated and now, now he was faced with the prospect of losing you as well. The bounty hunter dismissed the thought as quickly as it came because he knew deep down that it was better to have had the two of you in his life, even for a short while, than to have never known you. It wasn’t ideal but since when was his life ideal?

As the suns set beneath the sky, the Mandalorian looked down and saw that the bottle was still almost full. Not wanting to finish it now, because he might actually need it later when you decide to leave, Mando stood up and slowly made his way back into town. He needed to sleep, not to rest but to put a pause on his rather depressing thoughts if only for a little bit. When he saw the town come into view, he took a deep breath and put his helmet back on.

The town was quieter than usual and the Mandalorian found himself going straight to the ship instead of joining the others. He’d spent the past few days enjoying his nights in the corner of the busy cantina, watching as you won one Sabacc game after another without breaking a sweat while everyone groaned in annoyance at how well you were kicking their asses. But he couldn’t trust himself tonight, not around you and certainly not around the Marshal.

Trying not to bring too much attention to himself, Mando walked past the cantina towards the ship, already thinking of how relieved he’d be once he used the refresher. Going up the ramp, he was about to walk to the small, private room near the cockpit to grab a change of clothes when he heard a loud shriek that sounded a lot like his name coming from the opposite end of the ship. Mando quickly turned around and shut his eyes in exasperation when he saw you approaching him far angrier than he’d ever seen you. He set the bottle down and turned his attention towards you, raising an eyebrow to himself when he saw your chest heaving beneath the chest band. He averted his eyes quickly, refusing to think of you sweaty and breathless under other circumstances. Maker, he couldn’t go no like this.

“Where in the kriffing hell have you been? You were supposed to bring the parts from Peli hours ago and I have to find out from some kid that you just left them on the ground and walked away to- hell, I don’t even know what was more important for you than bringing me the scraps so I could fix the ship? Really, Mando, I understand that it’s been a little weird and difficult lately but I barely ask for anything and, ugh, maker.” You held back from voicing more of your thoughts, afraid that you’ve already gone far with asking him where he was. He didn’t really need to tell you what his business was but you’d assumed the two of you have come to an understanding regarding such matters, at the very least to ensure everyone’s safety.

Mando stood there in silence and took a deep breath before turning around and walking into his room, afraid he’d give himself away if he tried to respond to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration when he quietly walked away from you, anger rising in your chest as he came out and made his way past you to the refresher. Before you could think twice of what you were doing, you were sprinting past him and standing in front of the open door, pushing your fingers into his beskar-clad chest as you hissed at him.

“I’m not sure what happened or why you’re giving me the silent treatment right now but this is not how we deal with our problems okay.” Mando took a few steps back as you continued to shove your finger into him, trying his hardest to not grab your wrist and push you against the nearest wall. “We talk things out and we come up with a way to fix things and compromise if need be.” Mando’s back hit the wall, and he threw his head back to avoid your gaze, unable to hold back the chuckle that rose from beneath the helmet at your words.

How ironic.

“Did I say something funny?” You narrowed your eyes up at him and wished for once that he’d remove that god damn helmet so you could gauge his reaction.

“You mean we should talk things out like you and Cobb Vanth today? Or would it be different?” Mando’s chest tightened when he noticed the surprised expression on your face, knowing very well this was not what you expected to hear from him. He was a rational man, never once letting his mind give away to such simplistic thoughts but you’d struck a nerve and he could no longer hide his jealousy. Yes, it was jealousy. As much as he hated to admit it, that’s what he was feeling right now, what he’s been feeling all day long. It was childish and unlike him but it wasn’t going to do him any good if he continued to ignore it.

“I’m dying to know if that’s what you mean. You obviously don’t have an issue telling him about how difficult it’s been working with me and how you can’t keep doing this.” It was your turn to take a few steps back when you saw his shoulders push out and make him taller than he already was. He continued to walk towards you, throwing his clothes to the ground and almost apologizing when you tripped on your feet when he was only a foot away from you.

“How about this, let’s start with what you apparently wish you could tell me but can’t seem to find the right words to do so. What was it you said to him? You deserve more than taking care of a kid and constantly escaping the Empire and other bounty hunters? Or wait, how can I forget...it’s not fair dealing with this mess of a ship and you’re looking for somewhere else to go?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as the Mandalorian repeated back the words you voiced perhaps a little too loudly earlier today, already feeling your eyes fill with unshed tears at harsh his tone.

“I- I didn’t…you weren’t meant to-” You tripped over your words and almost flinched when he cut you off.

“What? I wasn’t supposed to hear you say any of those things? A little strange don’t you think, since you seemed to have a lot to say about me to the Marshal.” Mando should have stopped himself from saying the next few words but his heart was torn into a million pieces and it wasn’t fair for him either.

“Well guess what, sweetheart, the Razor Crest blew up. Moff Gideon is taken care of and the Empire isn’t after us anymore. Every bounty hunter knows better than to so much as look at me and...and the kid isn’t around anymore for you to take care of. He’s gone, I lost him. So if you were worried about hurting me, you’re a little too late for that.” The Mandalorian barely held himself back from pulling you into his arms when he saw tears rolling down your cheek, clenching his fists tightly when he noticed the way you hugged yourself and frowned at him.

“Din-” It broke him to hear you use his name, especially now of all times. He hasn’t heard you say it once in the past few months, even when the two of you were alone. It was the twisting of the knife, and he bit his tongue to distract himself from saying something he couldn’t possibly take back.

“Do what you want, I won’t stand in the way. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help you out with whatever it was you were telling him today. After all, you deserve more right? Deserve someone more than me...someone who’s willing to share a lot more than his name.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Mando stepped away and walked back to his room, not caring about the clothes on the ground or how hurt you must have been feeling from listening to him.

He softly shut the door behind him and moved to his bed, throwing himself on it and hanging his head low to catch his breath. This was not how he saw the night going, not remotely. He was hoping to ask you about this tomorrow in a less hostile manner and without making it seem like he was blaming you. But something about your words struck a nerve in him and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, not when you were suggesting things you yourself weren’t willing to follow.

Din wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence but the hissing sound of the door opening brought him back from his haze and he opened his eyes when he heard you walking towards him. You’d never once come into his room, not even when he occasionally gave you permission. You sniffed twice before approaching the bed and standing right in front of him and he was reminded of when the child would cry to try to catch his attention.

“Din, it was never my intention to hurt you. I was trying to do the opposite..thought I was doing the right thing by thinking about this before I could talk to you but I’m realizing now that I’ve hurt you.” Din noticed the way you were ringing your fingers nervously and held himself back from taking your hands into his to try and put you at ease.

“I- I only spoke with Cobb because he- because he noticed the way I was looking at you. He noticed how I can never seem to focus on anything or anyone else when you’re around. He- he could tell I was having a hard time coming to terms with how I feel about you...how I’ve felt about you for a while now.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your confessions, unable to properly register what you were implying because he could never even humor the idea that you’d have feelings for him. He raised his head and finally looked at you, frowning when he saw how red your eyes were from crying.

“The last thing I want to do is to leave you, please believe me. But I wasn’t sure if you even wanted me around after...after everything with Moff Gideon and the Jedi. As far as I knew, you brought me on to take care of Grogu and fix the Razor Crest. We’ve barely spoken ever since the cruiser and I just thought that I was only around because you couldn’t find the time to tell me that you don’t need me anymore.” Hearing you say that you thought he didn’t need you caught Din off guard and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, instantly taking hold of your hands and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. You swallowed the lump in your throat and maintained your gaze on his visor, hoping that he could see how truthful you were being with him and maybe respond, if only with just a simple word.

“When I said I deserved more, I was just- I swear I wasn’t talking about your Creed or wanting to see you. As much as I wish that was possible, I would never...could never ask you for something like that. I was only telling him that I might need some time away to maybe forget how...maker, to perhaps try and set aside my emotions because the last thing you need right now is for me to lay that on you. I don’t want you to think that you owe me anything because you don’t, gods you don’t owe anyone anything, not after what you’ve been through. But I could feel myself becoming more attached to you, especially after everything that happened on the cruiser. I want more with you but I don’t want to push you towards anything you’re not ready for.” Before you could wipe the tears away from your cheeks, Din was raising his glove-covered fingers and softly skimming them over your skin, and he hadn’t realized how harsh and loud his breathing was until he felt you rest your hand on his chest.

“There’s nothing between me and Cobb. And you should know by now that he’s...friendly, with everyone.” You smiled shyly at him before leaning into the hand resting on your cheek, nuzzling further into his palm when he swiped his thumb against your lower lip. There was so much Din wanted to say but he couldn’t find the right words that would convey what he was feeling. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind about your admission and the fact that you have been returning his affection for a while now.

Din didn’t realize how long he was quiet until you cleared your throat and let go of his hand, stepping away from him and looking around to see if you should just leave. Before you could head to the door, however, Din was standing up and moving towards you, his eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort before he made his next move. Your chest was rising and falling a little quicker than he liked but he quickly realized it was probably because of how you were coming to terms with what you just said to him.

You watched as he took his gloves off and set them on the small table behind you, suppressing a gasp when you felt his warm, calloused hands wrap around yours before bringing them to his helmet. He could tell you were letting him control all of your movements and found it difficult to accept just how much you were willing to give to him.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I have been thinking about this for a while.” Din smiled when he saw your eyebrows furrow in question at his words. “Taking this off.” He saw the moment you understood what he was saying, not expecting you to pull your hands away from him and taking a few steps back until your back was against the wall.

“That’s...that’s not what I- Din, I wasn’t lying when I said it wouldn’t matter to me if-” He smiled at how defensive you suddenly were and stepped towards you once more, and you found it annoying that he barely kept a foot between you two, his natural scent hitting you like a blaster to the gut.

“I know.” Din cut you off before taking your hands into his once more, rubbing your knuckles to put you at ease as he continued. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and- it’s not that I’ll walk around without it now, far from it. It’ll only be when we’re alone, when no one is around.” He hoped you could read in between the lines because this would be the closest he’d come to admitting how important you were to him, for now at least.

“Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

That definitely snapped you out of your haze and you tilted your head to the side before asking home what he was referring to.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Din raised an eyebrow at your response. Have you already forgotten?

“On the cruiser, when I- before Grogu went with the Jedi.” His hands tightened around your fingers as he said the child’s name and you were momentarily distracted before realizing what he meant.

“Din I...I never saw you.”

For a split second, it felt like someone had taken Din and carbon froze him before throwing him on an ice planet.

“What?” He held his breath, unable to move a muscle until he made sure he heard you correctly.

“I never saw you. I turned around when you reached for your helmet. I didn’t...it was a moment with you and Grogu. It didn’t feel right to look at you.” You tried to maintain a semblance of control on your voice but it cracked a few times as you admitted to him. As much as you yearned to see him without the mask, you didn’t think it proper without his clear consent.

Din’s sudden intake of breath made you nervous and you hated how for a moment, you wished you didn’t tell him because there was now a high probability that he wouldn’t take the mask off.

“Cyar'ika, please.” you shivered at the low tone of his voice, finding it harder to focus on anything but the touch of his skin. Once again, Din slowly brought your hands to the sides of his visor, pushing the palm of your hands on the beskar and softly nodding at you. A sudden sense of relief washed over him when he saw the slight nod of your head.

Din found it endearing how your whole face scrunched up in focus as the two of you slowly pulled the helmet off of his head, the soft hissing sound as it unlocked making your hands dampen with sweat. As you raised the visor along with him, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes as soon as you saw the skin of his chin. Unbeknownst to you, Din was watching your every reaction and felt a little nudge in his chest when he saw how tightly shut your eyes were. When the beskar was off completely, Din took it from your hands and placed it next to him, swallowing the lump in his throat when he turned back and saw you were still refusing to look at him.

He reluctantly took your hands into his and placed them on his chest, hoping that you’d finally open your eyes without him begging you again.

“I’m sorry I- maker, this is..this is probably more intense for you than it is for me and I’m not making it any better with my nervousness and- okay. Okay.” You took a deep breath before allowing your eyes to flutter open, unable to exhale as soon as you laid your gaze on him. Din was probably unaware of how nervous he looked and it took you a few longer seconds to realize you needed to breathe again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, the long nights where you imagined what he could look like fading into thin air because nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared you for what you were currency seeing.

His features were somehow soft but a little rugged, and you found yourself committing every inch of his skin to memory, filling your mind’s eye with every minute facial expression so you could dream of him when you fall asleep. It was oddly not surprising at all that he had a stubble, the scattered dark and slightly graying hairs across his jaw and above his lips making him seem older than he probably was. And you weren’t sure if he knew he was furrowing his eyebrows and then you realized he most likely didn’t because he was so used to wearing his helmet that he never had to learn how to control his facial expressions around anyone. And it was endearing how his nose flared as he continued to breathe heavily under your gaze, and if it weren’t for the fact that this was a serious moment, you would have leaned over and kissed the curved bridge of his nose and the scrunch of his eyebrows to put him at ease.

Din wasn’t sure what he thought your reaction would be and he felt his chest tighten with every long moment you spent without so much as a comment.

You were unaware of how long this dreadful moment must have been for the Mandalorian and you continued to study him in hopes of finding answers to questions you’ve wished you could ask him ever since he hired you. There were heavy bags under his eyes and you wished you were more persistent with him when it came to his resting schedule but he always seemed to wave you off whenever you told him he needed to sleep. Though you knew this stress had to do more with Grogu no longer being here and less with how often he slept. You had half expected to find his gaze harsh and far off but when you did finally meet his eyes, you found them filled with unshed tears and a multitude of emotions that you knew would go unexplained until he had the strength to voice them. They were a deep and beautiful shade of brown, ones you knew you’d never be able to turn away from now that you’ve had a proper look at him. And you couldn’t help but notice how their color reminded you of a Nightbloomer just after you picked it from its roots.

All of that, however, could not compare to when you finally let your eyes descend to his lips. They were a darker shade of pink, and you swore you saw them parting as soon as you looked at them. His lower lip was trembling and you wished more than anything to swipe your thumb against it if only to feel the soft skin melt at your touch. You wished that was as far as your mind had gone but the longer you looked at the curve of his mouth, the more you wished you could lean forward and mold your lips with his. It was even worse because you had a feeling that the stubble of his mustache would cause the softest of burns on your lips.

Din could no longer take the loud silence enveloping the room and he swallowed nervously when he saw how focused you seemed to be on his lips. He had some idea of what you were probably thinking because he was thinking the exact same thing but he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to make the first move. This reluctance evaporated when he noticed the way your eyes instantly moved to his neck as the cartilage moved and returned to rest when he gulped, and he realized that you may have been having slightly more inappropriate thoughts than he originally thought.

He was about to voice his worries when he saw your hands move from his beskar-clad chest to his face and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down apprehensively at the digits moving closer to his skin. You misunderstood his nervousness for uncomfort and immediately ceased all movements, returning your focus on his eyes to look for any inclination as to what he wanted.

“Can I- mhmm, may I touch you?” Your whispered question was too loud for the two of you and Din parted his lips to say something but noticed how dry his throat was and realized he couldn’t trust his own voice. Nodding slightly at your request, he waited with bated breath as your fingers rose to his face and found himself shaking with anticipation at the prospect of finally feeling your touch on the most intimate part of him.

When you were only a few inches away from him, Din felt his heart thumping wildly at his chest and he immediately shut his eyes when he felt the feather-light touch of your fingers on his cheeks. The harsh yet shaky intake of breath almost made you lose control and you had to remind yourself that, besides Grogu, you were the only one to ever touch him so intimately and so softly since he was a child. As much as you wished to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you could lay as many kisses on his face as you could, you knew it would be too much for him and that he needed you to go slow with him. He was practically shattering under your attention and you hoped he would allow you to do this as many times as possible in the coming days.

Din couldn’t put a name to what he was experiencing at the moment but he knew he didn’t want you to stop touching him, ever again. He decided that he’d spend every moment with you alone without his helmet and with yours hands skimming some part of him. The longer you kept your palms on his cheeks, the calmer his heart beat and it wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized his eyes were shut. As they slowly fluttered open, he was met with the most beautiful sight in the world: your own deep irises staring at your own thumb as it softly passed over his quivering lips.

“You’re...beautiful.”

It was a simple truth and you wished there was a more sincere word you could use to describe what he was to you, what he meant to you but your mind was overflowing with images of waking up next to him every day and kissing his eyes and cheeks and nose and lips and anywhere else you could reach.

Din’s hold tightened around your waist and you watched as he leaned forward until there was barely an inch between the two of you.

“Mesh'la, I would really like to kiss you.” The request barely passed his lips yet you were already standing up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, finding them as soft and gentle as you imagined them to be. Din was afraid his heart would give out any moment now because nothing could have prepared him for the taste of you, let alone the boldness with which you were claiming him. He sighed into you, unintentionally parting his lips and pushing you harder into the wall when he felt your tongue sneak into his mouth and explore him. Din wasn’t sure what he should be doing but then you were moving your hands to the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair and he all but lost it. As you gently tugged on his hair, Din found himself mirroring your actions and before he knew it, the kiss was no longer innocent and sweet but hungry and needy. You sucked on his tongue and tilted your head to the side, wanting to commit every small detail to memory so when you shut your eyes at night, you’d kiss him in your dreams.

Reluctantly, you pulled back for a second to allow the two of you to breathe but Din didn’t like that, chasing your mouth and molding his lips with yours once more to be certain that yes, this was happening, and that no, this was not a dream. You moaned into the kiss, finding his desperate need to claim your mouth again more of a turn on than you cared to admit. And then his hands were slipping inside your overalls and holding you against his chest, the warmth of him stretching down to where you wished you could feel him.

This sudden intrusive thought and the harsh grasp of your hips snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should be slowing things down for his sake. Against your will, you gently pushed his chest away and tried to think of anything but the way he was heaving above you from the intensity of the kiss. When you looked at him and saw panic and hesitation etched on his face, you returned your hands to his cheeks again and lowered his head until it was resting against your own.

“There’s nothing I want more than to feel every inch of your skin against mine right now...but- but I don’t want to push you to do something that- maker….that might be too much for you?” You pulled back and waited until he opened his eyes again before continuing. “I feel like you just made a dramatic decision by taking the helmet off in front of me and- and you’re probably feeling a multitude of emotions right now and I don’t want to make you think that I-”

Din didn’t like what you were saying, frowning down at you as he grabbed the back of your neck and violently pulled you towards him again. You were surprised by the sudden shift of his touch, fisting your hands in his cowl as he devoured your lips once more, not really giving you a chance to say anything else. Biting your lower lip, Din abruptly ended the kiss and pressed his lips across your skin, nipping and licking at your jaw as he pulled your hair down until he had access to your neck. You gasped his name and felt his stubble scratch deliciously at your shoulder. As you moaned against the wall, Din couldn’t back anymore and bit down hard on your shoulder, smiling when he heard your breath hitch at his rough ministrations.

“Din, oh gods, Din please.” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him exactly and you hoped he’d at the very least continue what he was doing.

“Cyar'ika, I want to have you. I’ve spent many nights dreaming of your lips, your touch, y-your skin against mine as I-” Din hesitated and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers slipping beneath the chest band that you finally registered his voice. Fuck, how had you not notice it a second ago? You thought the vocoder was what altered it, made it deeper perhaps. But no, it only made it sound more intimidating. You weren’t sure what made you clench your thighs together, the way he spoke to you of his desires, or how strained and gruff his voice was as he whispered his secrets to you. You gulped loudly and hesitantly met his eyes, finding the soft brown irises barely visible, his dilated pupils letting you know what he was thinking.

Licking your lips, you nodded at him and fell into a fit of giggles when he leaned down and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, quickly moving to his cot and laying you down on your back before moving away. You were about to ask him what he was doing when you saw his hands swiftly move through the beskar armor. For some reason, watching his hands expertly take off the cuirass and move to the beskar of his thighs made your heart skip a beat and you wouldn’t dare move a muscle, afraid to miss the show he was unintentionally putting on for you. So busy marveling at his deft fingers, you didn’t notice Din slowing his movements and looking at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity when he saw how hard you were breathing.

You broke out of your trance when you saw he stopped moving, embarrassment washing over you when you realized Din had caught you shamelessly staring at him as he came closer to revealing to you more of his skin. You’d expected him to move on, or at least pretend he hadn’t just caught you licking your lips while staring at his fingers but no, it seemed that Din was very much enjoying the effect he had on you because his smile grew when he saw your eyes look past him, pretending to focus on something else behind him and not his hands.

You never lost his attention though, and he maintained his eyes on you as he removed all of his armor and took his boots off. You tried to be a little more subtle but gave up when he leaned down over you and pushed you into his covers. You wanted to ask him why he was still dressed but bit back the inquiry, afraid he’d misunderstand and move away all together at your question. He captured your gaze and didn’t blink once as he slowly undid the buttons holding the overalls and you realized you would have preferred him to keep the helmet on because that meant you wouldn’t notice how passionate and direct his deep brown irises were. You’d expected him to be intense considering how touch-starved and lonely he was, but you never once thought he’d be this vigorous? Ardent? Maker, there wasn’t a single word that could describe the way he was looking at you right now.

Din kneeled at the foot of the bed, waiting until you finally noticed what he was doing and raising your hips before he pulled on the pants of the garment. He slipped your shoes off and finally removed the article of clothing that made his cheeks blush and pants tighten whenever you wore it. He would eventually tell you that this is how you came to him in his dreams almost every night, all spent and sweaty in that gods-forsaken fabric that gave him the perfect view of what you were wearing beneath.

His focus shifted from your face down your damp skin and he breathed in deeply at the sight of your undergarment. Din almost choked on his breath when your legs parted for a moment, giving him a glimpse of the growing wet patch at the center of the flimsy material.

The Mandalorian wanted nothing more than to worship your body, kiss every part of you and whisper his devotion against your skin as he pleasured you over and over again. He’d spent countless nights imagining what he’d do to you if you were ever naked and willing in his arms and he was damned if he didn’t make sure you were thoroughly spent once he was done with you. He wanted to hear his name fall from your lips and he wanted to swallow your sighs and your moans as he sank into you all night long. And by the gods, he wanted to mark your neck and your arms and your waist, and nothing made him harder than picturing you doing the same to him, biting and nipping at his skin so he could wake up in the morning and watch the evidence of your lo- your touch on him. It didn’t matter that no one else would see those bruises but him and you. He just wanted you, in any way possible, sinking beneath his skin.

And then he heard his voice calling for you over the comm link just outside the room and something snapped deep in his chest. He looked up from you to the open door of his room and listened to the Marshal’s words. Your eyes widened in shock when you saw several emotions pass through Din’s eyes, the most prominent of which was anger, maybe hurt. Of all the times Cobb would ask you to join him for drinks, this was most definitely the worst of them. It didn’t help either that he was laughing over some inappropriate joke one of his friends was saying about your sabacc skills. It wouldn’t be the first time this happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but then Din was clenching his jaw tightly before looking down at you and you knew he wasn’t too happy. In fact, you had a pretty good idea which emotion won out and you hated how much it affected you, how wet you became as thoughts of the Mandalorian claiming you as his flooded your mind.

Before you could try and reason with him, attempt to tell him that it was just a game and that the Marshal’s friends were probably just teasing him, Din was standing up and stripping of his long-sleeve shirt, revealing his perfectly chiseled, bronze skin that had your mouth watering within moments. You noticed the few dozen scars littering his beautiful torso and wished you could kiss each one of them, the old ones and the fairly new ones, until they didn’t sting with pain. But Din had different plans for you and he didn’t give you a chance to question him as he took hold of both of your wrists and slammed them above your head. His hold was painful and it should have scared you how quickly his mood changed but you said nothing, looking into his dilated pupils as his nose flared and he growled at you.

“Keep yours hands there,” Din warns you with a piercing look and you gulp loudly before nodding at him in understanding. He removes his hand and kneels on the bed, eyes narrowing at you before they sought after your most private areas. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He’d given this much thought but now that he was here, he realized it was a more difficult decision than he anticipated. He’d longed to wrap his lips around those hardened peaks always teasing him through the chest band, lick them until you cried for him, perhaps begged him to stop because you were sensitive. But then he continued down the lines of your navel and found your parted legs much more inviting.

Now that Din knew how you felt, there was no reason for him to feel jealous. But he couldn't stop himself, wanting to be certain that you knew as well as he who you belonged to. He hated himself for having such primitive thoughts about you. You were your own person that much was made clear early on. But he could hope at your words, couldn’t he? He could hope that you were now his, and that he was yours. Maker, he was always yours. He just couldn’t admit it to himself, his heart reluctant at opening up to another.

Din was lost in thought longer than you liked and you moved your feet towards him, nudging his thigh in hopes of reassuring him that you were right here, in his bed, beneath him and at his mercy. Din’s eyes focused on your again and he looked down at the soft gesture, hands instantly grabbing at your ankles. You jumped at the sudden movement, trying your hardest not to whine at the painful grasp because somewhere deep inside of you, you wanted nothing more than to be marked by him. By his teeth, lips, fingers, any part of him. You didn’t care where you’d bear his touch, you just wanted to see it, touch it in the privacy of the refresher when he wasn’t around.

Din saw the needy look you were throwing him and he knew that you were willing. Willing to go as far as he wanted, willing to completely submit your body and soul to him, willing to do whatever he wished of you.

Before your eyes could flutter closed, Din was pushing your legs wide open and falling in between them while maintaining his gaze on you. He almost smiled when your stomach shook at how feral he probably looked. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes as his mouth latched onto the wet patch forming on the soft fabric of your undergarment, moaning into your cunt as he savored the taste seeping through. You were surprised by the boldness of the action and wished for him to lick your skin instead. But there was something erotic about the desperation behind his actions, wanting to taste you so much that he didn’t care what he was licking.

The thought was gone as soon as it appeared because you felt two fingers stretch beneath the waistband right before he ripped it off of your body, shoving the torn fabric in his nose and taking a long whiff of it before humming in approval. Your eyes widened in surprise at the filthiness of his action, hands shaking above you when he threw your panties expertly into his helmet. The thought of knowing that your scent could potentially stick to the inside of his helmet as he walked around twisted your insides and you whined shamelessly at him, wishing he could just take what he wanted.

“Your sounds belong to me,” Din spoke with a commanding voice as he sank in between your thighs again, his tongue dragging across your folds so deliciously hard until he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva behind. “Your arousal belongs to me,” his hands went to your thighs and he squeezed, knowing fully well there would be bruises dawning your beautiful, smooth body the following morning. Again, you fought to keep your eyes open, wanting to commit every second to memory but finding it difficult to focus on him and not the pleasure zapping down your back. “And I will be damned if this cunt,” Din let go of one of your thighs, pulling his tongue away from your core right before the palm of his hand landed a slap straight on your clit, “doesn’t belong to me either.” You cried out his name, legs shaking violently at the pain shooting through your clit. Din didn’t give you a moment to relax back down on the covers, spanking the outer folds of your pussy twice more consecutively before he replaced the harsh touch with his cooling tongue. Tears trailed down your cheeks as he fucked you with his tongue and lapped at you like you were the only source of water on this gods-forsaken planet. He rotated between soft, quick licks to long, harsh ones, occasionally sucking on your clit and grazing his teeth on the bundle of nerves until he was sure you were going crazy.

“D-Din oh maker, please. Stop I- slow down.” His touches were far from gentle and the pleasure blurred into pain as you tried to reach that delicious peak you’ve longed for ever since you harbored feelings for the man above you. But he was making it difficult, his needy and erratic movements making it near impossible for you to dive into the lake of pleasure. You should have known that the Mandalorian was as intense in bed as he was in every other aspect of his life. You shut your thighs around his head, wanting to push him away as his teeth continued to graze against your wet folds and nip at the pulsating nub.

“M-Mando...I can’t.” You couldn’t take it anymore, hands moving to his hair and fisting in the beautiful brown locks as you tried to push him away. As soon as Din felt the tight grasp on his hair, he snarled at you, pushing up on his knees and bending your body along with him until the only thing resting on the bed was your neck and your shoulders. You cried out for him, begging him to give you release but it only drove him mad with lust. His eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away from him as his fingers dug into your butt cheeks and pushed your cunt into his mouth.

Din pulled away for a split second, biting your inner thighs to grab your attention.

“You will take what I give you ner Cyar’ika.” You saw a hint of darkness in his soulful brown eyes, and shivered at the mere implications of what he had in mind for you. Din sucked and licked at your folds like a crazed man, feeling your legs shaking on his shoulders. He pulled away for a second, and you had no time to beg him to be gentle as he slapped your heated core three times again, hissing when you shut your eyes and bucked against him, your juices drenching his face and chest, leaking down your back as he smiled before taking your cunt into his mouth one last time to prolong your pleasure. You were too busy trying to remain sane to realize what had just happened and Din slowly lowered you back onto the wet covers before letting go of you. You were panting beneath him, stomach fluttering from the force of your release and chest heaving as you tried to fill your lungs with air.

When you opened your eyes and looked at Din, your eyes widened in horror when you saw his glistening skin, finally realizing what he'd just done to you. You flushed under the scrutiny of Din’s gaze, gasping as he wiped his mouth and jaw with the back of his hand as he looked down and chuckled at the wet spot beneath his knees. You quickly shut your legs and tried to crawl away from him but Din was faster, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back to him, the show of strength already making your cunt clench around nothing again.

“You do not run from me Ad’ika...nor hide from me ever again. I own your body, your skin, the cum still leaking out of this sweet cunt.” His words were filthy and you didn’t know how to react to this new possessiveness he was showing. He pushed open your thighs and fell in between him, bringing his chest flush against yours and kissing the breath out of you, not bothering to be gentle as his fingers twisted and pinched at your nipples. You clawed at his back, wanting more of him but not knowing if you would be able to take any more of what he was offering.

He pulled away suddenly, his jaw clenching tightly as he took one look at the hands wrapped around his back.

“Did I not tell you to not move your hands sweet girl?” He whispered against your lips, breathing in the air leaving your lungs as he pecked the corner of your mouth before flipping you over on your stomach.

“I- I’m sorry...it was just t-too much and-” You couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence, screaming against the covers as you felt Din’s palm land on your ass. You looked back and saw him eyeing your reddening skin, looking up at you and smiling as he treated the other side with the same kindness. Four more times his hands smacked your ass and you were ashamed at how aroused his violent actions made you. When he snuck his fingers in between your thighs and swiped haphazardly at your folds, you moaned and bit into your wrist.

“Filthy sweet girl,” Din whispered more to himself than you before he fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you flush to his chest, the slide of your dampened back against his sweaty chest bringing him more pleasure than he would have liked to admit because not a few hours ago, he was picturing your sweaty, glistening skin beneath him. And now that he had you here, he was going to make the best of it.

“Mando, oh Mando-” As much as he loved hearing you scream his nickname in the throws of passion, he wished more to hear his given name fall from your lips.

“My name...scream my name sweet girl. Let the stars know who pleasures you Cyare.” Din kissed your shoulder before biting into the sweaty flesh, the hand in your hair letting go right before wrapping softly around your throat and pressing you harder against him. Your hands twisted back to try and grab his hair but he immediately took your wrist and twisted it until it was behind you, between your back and his chest.

“Ahh Din…” You wanted to beg him to allow you to touch him, tell him that you were yearning to touch him as much as he was in need of touching you. But you had a feeling that this wasn’t true, and that this was his way of being certain that you weren’t going to leave him. That you were his.

If only he knew that you have already belonged to him. Long before tonight.

You felt each breath leave your lungs as Din tightened his grasp around your throat and you parted your lips to moan his name, only to feel his tongue shamelessly licking into your mouth. So distracted by the desperation in this kiss, you didn’t notice the fingers trailing down your chest and digging into your skin until the palm of his hand softly cupped one breast. Din teased you with feather light touches, flicking at one nipple before moving to the other and circling around it until it hardened. He continued to swallow your noises, sucking on your tongue to quiet you as he pinched your nipples. You twisted in his arms, wanting to reach for him again but knowing that he would probably pull your hand away.

When Din pulled away to allow you to breathe, you panted and finally opened your eyes, not daring to look away as he kept you motionless with his gaze. Din watched as you tried to form a coherent thought, waiting until you parted your lips to speak to him before reaching down and cupping your quivering cunt as he broke the silence.

“This belongs to me,” your breath hitched when Din pressed the palm of his hand against you, not quite applying pressure on your clit but just enough to hold your focus. “Only I get to touch you, kiss you, watch you as you come undone in my arms.” You nodded briefly at him, continuing to hold eye contact as he began to increase his actions. “No one else will ever have you Cyar'ika. No one but me.” He slipped two fingers past your wet folds and rubbed against your walls, humming in approval when he felt you flutter around him the harder he shoved his fingers inside you.

“I’m yours Din, y-yours. Whatever you want, oh gods please more...need more, Din you make me f-feel so good.” Din keened at your words, curling his hand until his palm was passing deliciously over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace.

“That’s right sweet girl, you’re mine. Mine to fuck, mine to take whenever I want...mine to-” Din hesitated for a second, unable to voice his heart to you even though you’ve bared your soul for him. “Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum...kriffing gods you’re wet, so wet for me. Come on, cum for me again ner Cyare. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how needy this little cunt is, fuck- I...can’t want to have you wrapped around my cock little one. Can’t wait to sink in this pussy, my sweet tight cunt, mark you with my seed, over and over again...fuck a load in you all night long till you can’t feel anything but my cum dripping down your thighs. Shit, I need you to cum, now!” Your mind became foggy with pleasure, unable to focus on anything but the words whispered into your ears as his thick fingers fucked into you. You grabbed the wrist of the hand wrapped around your throat, digging your nails into his skin as you came around his fingers. You almost fell forwards but Din held you flush against him, continuing to drive his digits into you and rub at your clit with this thumb until you were sobbing in his arms.

“Beautiful,” Din kissed your shoulder as he slowly inched his hands away from you before laying you down slowly. His eyes took in the flushed, wet skin of your back, chuckling with pride when he saw your legs shaking as little sobs escaped your lips. Your breaths came in shallow and quick, and you tried to silence your whines by biting into your wrists but then you felt Din slide his hand back and forth on your back as he laid next to you and you shivered under his touch because from the way he was moving closer to you and touching you, there was no way he was done just yet.

“You’re all I think about, every waking moment. It’s difficult to focus on anything else when you’re always in my mind Cyar'ika. I- I burn for you, for your lips to caress mine every moment, your eyes to never leave mine as I brand you, your skin against my own as you mark me with your touch. I- maker, I cannot think of a life without you here, with me…” Din thought he would have to force himself to say such things but he found it remarkably easy now that he had you here, responding so openly and shamelessly to him.

“Din,” you turned your head and shifted towards him, kissing the hand resting between the two of you before leaning your forehead against his and shutting your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, for as long as you’ll have me.” Din ceased all movement at your words and he looked away from where he was stroking your back, meeting your eyes and furrowing his eyebrows before you felt him grab your arm and pull you on top of him. You surprised gasp died in your throat when you felt Din wrap his arms around your back and bring you against him until you could feel his chest hairs tickling your nipples. You could feel his cock jutting against your core through his pants and as you rested your hands on his chest and looked to him, you saw the frown ease from his expression, replaced with something akin to reverence.

“I will have you until my dying breath Mesh’la. Let me show you how much I want you.” The force of his declaration hit you instantly and you pressed your lips against his just as you felt him rid himself of his pants. Din’s hands were roaming your back and you felt bolder with every caress, combing your fingers into his hair and pulling on it as he squeezed your ass and bucked into you. The growl emanating from his chest shot straight to your core and you raised yourself from him for a moment.

“Din, I want you. Crave to feel you inside me. Please, do it fast and don’t- don’t be gentle. Show me, show me how much you lo- want me.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your words and he wasted no time, taking hold of his cock and teasing your clit with his leaking tip before slowly inching inside you. You shut your eyes and dug your nails into the back of his neck as he continued to sheath his dick deeper in your cunt. You could feel every ridge and pulsating vein dragging against your inner walls, finally allowing your lungs to breathe as you felt him nudge and twitch against that soft, spongy spot in your core.

Neither of you moved for a few moments, with Din trying to wrap his mind around finally becoming one with you and feeling you clench so sweetly around him. He was torn between fucking up into you without mercy and taking it nice and slow until he pushed you over the edge again. But then you were gyrating your hips and sighing his name on his cheek and he knew what he wanted.

Planting his feet on the damp covers, Din held you flush against him with one arm while resting his other hand on your thigh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he snapped his hips up before sinking into you again. You let out a surprised sob and rested your forehead against his shoulder, whispering more pleas against his skin and begging him to move.

The usually quiet man breathed the sweetest wishes in your ears, thrusting up into you with immense force that made you clench tighter around him. “Ni copad gar an te ca'nara Ad’ika, ni vercopa be gar anay ca. You have made a home for yourself inside my heart.” Din felt your shaky breath blow on his neck and it drove him mad with lust because he wanted to have you reacting to his touch so wantonly every minute of every day. His grip only tightened around you and he prayed you wouldn’t mind the bruises that would surely color your skin in the next few hours. He wasn’t planning on being gentle tonight, perhaps later, but not tonight, and he was going to ensure his touch would be visible for anyone that would speak with you tomorrow. Thoughts of the Marshal passed through his mind’s eye and he growled, pumping his cock into you harshly for some reassurance. You cried out his name over and over again, feeling your skin heat up at the declarations of love he was peppering on your skin because even though his words were gentle, his touches were far from it.

The squelching sounds of your cunt flooding Din’s thighs as he drove himself into you should have embarrassed you but you could tell he enjoyed knowing how wet you were for him from the way he continued to quicken the pace just to hear your juices flowing over him. His grip on you was becoming more painful the more you moved against each other but you couldn’t find it in yourself to let him know. He was letting go, showing you how much he wanted you, how hard he was for you, and you weren’t about to make him feel conscious over his affection.

“Maker...oh Din, Din I- you feel so good inside me. Filling me up like no one else. Could feel you so deep, gods, could feel you everywhere Din please- don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, I need it. Need you, want you- want you to mark me, d-do whatever you want with me.” You had no hold over your own speech and weren’t sure if you were making any sense but Din moaned each time you praised him.

“Good girl, sweet girl...taking my cock so well, kriffing hell. Your- your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of me..could feel every tight inch of you stroking my cock Cyar’ika. Ah pfassk...you’re- you’re perfection.” Din moved the hand around your back up to your neck, pulling on your hair and pressing his lips with yours as his cock throbbed inside you. You whined as his tongue roughly swirled around your own, barely able to breathe as he continued to snap his hips against you and suddenly feeling a rush of relief as his navel rubbed at your clit until you came around him. Din broke the kiss, screaming expletives in his tongue as the force of your orgasm pushed his cock out of you. You shuddered as you gushed on his dick, wrapping your arms around his neck when he forced his cock into your tight cunt again.

You were so overcome with emotions, so lost in Din’s scent mixing with your own, and his touch leaving bruises on your skin, that you didn’t notice the faint sounds of footsteps coming up the ramp and halting in the middle of the ship right in front of the door. But Din noticed, managing to look up just in time to see Cobb standing in the middle of the ship and staring with wide eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him.

Something completely otherworldly took over the Mandalorian and he quickly sat up, expertly moving the two of you around until he was kneeling on the covers with you straddling his thighs. He smiled against your shoulder, allowing your hair to hide his face as he grabbed both of your hips and fucked up into you.

He could vaguely see the Marshal and was surprised that he hadn't dropped the bottle of drink in his hand just yet. You wailed into the night air, arms keeping you stead in Din’s arms as he forced you on his pulsating dick over and over again.

“Tell me...tell me Cyare, tell me how much you love it when I fuck you. How much you need my cock like the filthy little cockslut you are. Go on sweet girl, grind that little clit on me. Fucking tell me ner Ad’ika.” Din smacked your ass twice, chuckling when your moans grew more lewd with every touch he laid on you.

“I- I- ahhh love your cock...oh maker, no one fucks me like you. N-no one makes me c-cum like you. Fuck me harder D- ahhh,” Din bit down on your shoulder to prevent you from saying his name, looking through the mess of your hair and watching as his audience remained incapable of moving.

“I own this pretty little pussy. Pffassk- ride me harder Mesh’la. You’re such a good girl, could feel your cunt drenching my thighs, the smell of you is driving me mad. Fuck- keep that pretty mouth open to me when I’m fucking you, let me hear you scream for me.”

“Please- please...fuck me harder, ruin my pussy. Gods- I..I’m so close please. Tell me you own me, tell me I’m you’re sweet girl. Please- I want to be good for you, want you to cum inside me Din...cum inside me. I need it, need you to fuck me like you own me and mark me, make me yours Mando. Cum in me, please-”

“Ah fuck you’re my sweet little girl aren’t you? Wanting me to fuck a load in you, cum in you all night long and keep my seed in that tight cunt? That’s it sweetheart, I’m so fucking hard for you. Could feel you clenching around me...be a good girl and cum again ner kar'ta. Fuck, yes yes you feel so good wrapped around my cock Cyare you’re going to make me cum. Spill my seed in that tight, wet pussy, fill you up till you can taste it in your throat. Shit, and- and I’m going to keep fucking you sweet girl, till my cum is sliding down your thighs. My little fucktoy- come on, come on love, cum for me. Cum on me, drench me again. Mix your juices with me.” Din watched as Cobb finally had the mind to leave and he almost laughed at how the man almost tripped on his own foot as he sprinted out of the ship. He pushed you on your back and spread your thighs open, resting his weight on the arms around your head as he thrust in a few more times before he felt you clench around him. Leaning down, Din took a pert nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, growling into your skin as he came deep in your pussy, painting your walls with long strings of his seed until he couldn’t breathe. He’d never cum this hard before and was sure to tell you when you had the state of mind to pay him any semblance of attention.

Din continued to lazily push into you, your words from earlier replaying in his mind as he felt you quiver around his softening cock. You were still coming down from your high and twitched occasionally when you felt him throb inside you. There was a pleasant kind of warmth washing over you and you sighed happily when you realized he was still bucking against you to push his cum in your belly.

“D-din...you’re filling me up so good. Feel so full ah- gah.” He laughed when your body shook, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you around until you were laying on his chest. You kissed his jaw and his neck, moaning in unison when you felt his dick rub against that sweet spot inside you.

“That’s because I’ve never cum this hard sweet girl. You’ve milked me dry Cyare. Could feel you sucking my seed out of me.” He was amazed at your obvious embarrassment, wanting to tease you about it but choosing to wait for later instead.

Din rubbed at your back, kissing your forehead as he whispered sweet things in your ears and smiling when you nipped at his neck some more.

“Promise me you’ll never leave.” Din’s quiet voice broke the silence and you pushed up to look into his eyes as you responded. “I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to go. I’ll stay here, always. I promise.” You kissed him gently and felt his pulse beneath your fingers calm at your words.

Not much time has passed before Din had you on your knees in front of him, fucking your mouth and shoving you down on his cock until you gagged and his seed slipped from the corner of your mouth, mixing with your spit as it fell down your breasts. You lost count of how many times he brought you pleasure, and you made a mental note to ask him how he managed to fuck you all night long. You weren’t sure it was possible for a man to cum this many times over the course of one night but you had a feeling Din was not like anyone else. A man who has been touch starved for almost three decades must have had a lot of pent-up aggression that he needed to release. And you would gladly help him in any shape or form through that.

And when he wasn’t pumping your cunt full of his cum, he was nuzzling into your neck and laying kisses across your arms, making sure he caressed every inch of your skin. You shouldn’t have been surprised that Din loved to snuggle with you but you did find it hilarious that such a big and scary Mandalorian whimpered when you licked down his neck as you nestled into his arms. You wouldn’t tell him just yet but besides his rough grasps and his filthy words, you loved to taste the saltiness of his skin and from the looks of it, the feelings were mutual because at some point in the night, he’d told you of all the times he had to lock himself up in the refresher and try his hardest to not think of your sweaty limbs entangling with his own as he kissed you.

By the time the two of you made it outside the following day, the twin suns had already been in the middle of the sky, scorching rays of heat on everyone across Mos Pelgo. You tried your hardest not to walk too funny, mostly because it made Din apologize every now and then, but it was difficult when you could still feel traces of his touch on you. You told him you needed him to stop making it obvious but realized he was apologizing out of regret not out of humor. It took you all of the afternoon to convince him that you were feeling more than okay and that you’d asked him for this. And when he didn’t seem to stop, you teased him and told him that you knew he secretly loved watching you wobble from side to side.

This all, however, peaked when you walked into the cantina and tried to play Sabbac with Cobb Vanth and the others. You could tell that the Marshal was avoiding all conversation with you, going out of his way to pretend you weren’t even sitting on the table, let alone the room. You hoped that Mando hadn’t spoken with him or anything and decided to call it quits earlier in the night. When you did make it back to the ship and saw Din cleaning his weapons, you made sure the ship was secure before moving to sit on the bed across from him.

“Did you talk to Cobb today?” You gauged his reaction, already sensing that something was wrong when you saw him nervously clench his jaw before rubbing furiously at the beskar weapon.

“No, why do you ask?” Din wished he hadn’t already taken off his helmet because as soon as he responded, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

“Din?”

He looked up at you and cleared his throat before speaking.

“He- he saw us...last night. I- I must have forgotten to raise the ramp and-” Din took a deep breath when you shot up from the cot and began to pace back and forth.

“HE WHAT?”

“We were...I couldn’t- there wasn’t a chance I could…you felt too good around me Ad’ika I- I couldn’t stop. Not when you were clenching around me so tightly. Now when you were finally in my arms. I-” He stood up and walked towards you, taking your hands into his and kissing both of your wrists. You flushed at his words and looked up at him, only to find him blushing under your gaze.

“You did it on purpose didn't you? You wanted him to see...to watch as you- as we...as I said-” Din didn’t let you finish the sentence, leaning down and molding his lips with yours as he walked you back to his bed. He pushed you down on the covers still holding your scents, his hold hardening the more you moaned against him. Before he could strip you of your clothes, you pushed him off and stuck out your finger in warning.

“Oh no you don’t. Go raise the ramp.”

“You’re giving me orders now Mesh’la?” Din raised an eyebrow at you as he got off of you and walked around the bed, halting at the doorstep to look back at you.

“Never…”

Translations:

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - my/mine

Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum - mine to love

Ni copad gar an te ca'nara - I want you all the time.

Ni vercopa be gar anay ca - I dream of you every night.

Ner kar'ta - my heart

#The Mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian smut #mando x reader #Mando smut #Mando fanfiction #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin smut #Din Djarin fanfiction #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #star wars #star wars fanfiction #baby yoda #grogu

2K notes · View notes

crash-cinematic-universe · 3 years

Text

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

warnings: language! but that’s about it. kind of cheesy at some points but yknow what im not lactose intolerant

notes: this is the monsterous fic thats been kicking my ass this past week (6.2k words babey!!!) i was originally going to add ~~steamy~~ section to this one but i decided against it to make it readable for those who don’t wanna see that kind of stuff. if you want me to separately publish that then just lmk!! (if any of yall wanna talk about richard siken to me then please do, his work is so good)

taglist: @stranger-names , @gooseyhouse , @parkersdarling

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- no pun intended. His speed is a blessing, but also a bitter curse. He moves at the speed of sound, bouncing off the walls and tearing up the roads; he moves impossibly fast, and no one ever tries to catch up with him. People get tired of Peter rather quickly, not bothering to get attached to him when they know they can’t keep up.

That’s why it’s so jarringly startling when you decide to stick around. When faced with the grand decision of throwing in the towel and leaving Peter behind or sticking around and trying your best, you chose the latter. It was surprising, to say the least. Peter waited patiently for the distance between the two of you to start growing; he waited for the void you once filled to open up again. However, the void never emptied, and the distance never grew.

To anyone else, this would be a wonderful experience. Knowing that you wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten about would be comforting to anyone else in Peter’s position. However, this did the exact opposite for Peter. He wasn’t comforted or relaxed, on the contrary, he was always on edge. The future was cruel, and the mystery of it all felt like torture.

To quote the great Richard Silken, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Peter lived and breathed by this ideology, that everyone he loves would have to leave eventually, whether it be by their own volition or not. It was obvious that you didn’t plan on abandoning ship anytime soon, so Peter decided he’d take matters into his own hands. If you weren’t going to be the first one to walk away, then he’d be the one to run away from you. He soon came to learn that loneliness was at its most bitter when you’ve come to taste the sweetness of love.

Love was a strange, complicated beast that Peter Maximoff had never dealt with before. If he were to be completely honest, love scared him. It scared him more than dying scared him. To Peter, death was an escape. Death was the end of a tiring journey, it was safe and simple and easy. Love was the opposite, it was the mouth of a dragon and the edge of a blade. It was the beginning to something so fragile and powerful, something that could end in flames.

Peter realized he loved you on a summer afternoon. The sun was shining and you were in the shade. He sat down next to you, and within minutes Kurt and Ororo appeared at your side. They seemed so put together, so sure and strong. Peter felt out of place-- he felt as if he were standing outside of a cabin looking in through the window at your wonderful friendships. He watched with his nose pressed against the glass as you walked across the room and opened the cabin door to let him in.

Peter realized he was in love with you in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm raged outside the mansion walls and raindrops kept time as Peter walked down the hallway. You were sitting on the floor of the common room next to a dying fire, a book clenched tightly in your hands. For a moment, he just stood against a wall and watched you. As creepy as he felt, a part of him believed he’d ruin your night by making himself known. He was okay with being a fly on the wall if it meant he’d get to see you. Peter wondered if there was a world where he had the pleasure of knowing you, without you having the burden of knowing him.

Still, you saw him. And you knew him. And you waved him over with a smile. He felt the urge to run, to leave you here alone with yourself, but he stayed put. Then, one step at a time, he moved forward. He got closer and closer before he found himself standing at your feet.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you told him. He believed it. Peter sat down next to you, letting his shoulder brush against yours.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. Peter already knew what you were reading, he read the cover of the book the moment he sat down, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Crush by Richard Siken,”

“Oh. What’s it about?” Peter already knew what it was about. He’d read it at least fifty times.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d much rather just read it to you and let you decide for yourself,” Peter’s stupid little heart lurched, and he almost cried at the thought. He held it together, though.

“That would be nice,” He said softly.

“Sorry about all the writing in the margins, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Peter scanned the sides of the pages, marveling at your notes. Some of them were reactions, littered with exclamation points and question marks and bold letters. Some of them were underlined phrases and little doodles-- most notably a little drawing of a chameleon on a tiger lily. He loved them.

“It’s okay. Literature is meant to be marked up-- what’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?”

“That’s a good point,” You grinned. Then, the reading began, and you allowed Peter to rest his head on your shoulder as you read to him. Even though he’d heard the poems a billion times by now, they sounded brand new coming from you. He listened closely. You were arriving at his favorite part, “You are Jeff” section 24.

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you...” You read on, not noticing the way Peter’s eyes had shifted from the book you were holding to your face. Peter’s mind wanders, and he curses himself for missing the lines you were reading “... You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Peter felt like he was going to cry. You kept reading and he kept looking. It was getting late, and Peter was getting tired. Your voice had softened and slowed, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace had all but died. Peter was the one that fell asleep first, and you followed closely after. Both of you had lingering smiles on your faces.

Intimacy is an odd thing, isn’t it? Thinking critically, intimacy is just vulnerability with more layers. It’s the closeness between people, it’s allowing yourself to connect with someone you care about. It’s stripping yourself down to muscle and bone and hoping the other person doesn’t let you bleed out. It’s a level of trust that is more than closing your eyes and falling backwards; it’s closing your eyes and letting them push you over the edge into the unknown, and trusting them enough to know you’ll be okay when you hit the ground.

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize that he had trouble with being intimate with other people. Too many times had trusted someone to push him over the edge, only to realize he’d be shattered when he hits the ground. After that, he decided intimacy was overrated. It’s not like anyone was going to have that kind of relationship with him, anyway.

Of course, then you came along and uprooted his entire worldview, like you had with everything else. He found himself thinking about you at every waking moment, which inevitably led to him… thinking about you at every waking moment, if you catch my drift. Sure, intimacy involves more than just physical intimacy, but Peter knows he can’t ignore the feeling that rises in his stomach whenever he’s around you. For the first year or so of your relationship, Peter became very familiar with the feeling of an ice-cold shower.

What Peter didn’t take into consideration was you. For some reason, Peter struggled to understand the fact that you were just as attracted to him as he was attracted to you. It was no secret that Peter was insecure, but he never really realized how much his insecurity affected his relationships. If he couldn’t love himself, how could anyone else? Peter is the only one who gets to see his persona in its truest form, and every time he has to avert his eyes. It’s safe to say his physical appearance has been the cause of very many painful-- and occasionally tear-filled-- sleepless nights.

He told you this. He told you everything. He told you about Erik, he told you about his childhood, he told you about everything he loved and hated and feared and yearned for. That ordeal alone was scary enough, knowing that at any moment you could decide you didn’t want to deal with him anymore, but as always, you stuck around. You told him everything. You told him about your family and your struggles. You told him about everything you loved and hated and feared and yearned for, and not once did Peter even think that he wanted to walk away. This is the kind of intimacy that, over the years, Peter had struggled with less and less.

Still, it was the sexual aspect of intimacy that freaked him out. It was a beast he’d never dealt with, a feat he’d never faced. That being said, as every day went by Peter became more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, so he'd just let the subject approach him and wing it.

And as he sat on his bed watching as you twirled around to Tears for Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, Peter realized he didn’t have much to worry about.

“Dance with me, dollface,” you laughed, reaching out for him. You looked like someone straight out of a movie, the lim blue light coming from Peter’s arcade machines illuminating a halo above your head. You put Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez to shame. Peter took your hand, grinning like an idiot as you twirled him around.

There he was, dancing in his mother’s basement with his favorite person in the entire world. He wasn’t a great dancer, and neither were you, but that didn’t matter. Peter was dreading this visit-- he hated the idea of being back in the basement that made him feel like a failure. But you assured him that you’d be there with him, and that getting to see his family would make it all worth it. His family isn’t what made it worth it, though.

“Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd came next, slower and a bit more somber, but still danceable. Your arms shifted to around his neck, pulling him closer than he already was. Somehow, you ended up with your back against the wall as the song came to a close. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“I love you,” Peter spoke softly. This was a small victory-- he’d been so scared of the mere idea of loving someone. You were the only one who got to hear his love confessions. They were for you, and for you only.

“I love you too,” Peter would never, ever get tired of hearing that. Knowing that you love him is enough to keep him going for a hundred years. And he knows the odds, he knows that love is rocky and painful as much as it is beautiful. He knows that love can feel sweet in the beginning and go sour overtime. He knows that first, second, third relationships don’t always work out. But he thinks this is going to work out. And Peter doesn’t think this will ever go sour. Maybe that’s his blissful ignorance talking, maybe he’s jinxing it, but at this moment, he doesn’t care. Right now he is at his happiest, at his most content.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked softly, pecking Peter on the cheek. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, and Peter grinned. In an instant the tv across the room began playing the opening credits to the first movie that popped into his head.

“The Breakfast Club?” You questioned. Peter shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age kind of movie,”

You sat against the headboard of Peter’s bed, allowing Peter to settle beside you. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he was quick to grab your hand. Peter loved the closeness. Over the past year, he’d come to realize he was a very affectionate person. Previously, Peter hadn’t known soft, physical love; the only time anyone would ever touch him would be as punishment or defense, not love. Love. Peter had gotten more comfortable with the idea of love, because when he thinks of love he thinks of you.

Every good story has a villain. A villain that you love to hate, or hate to love. A villain you can sympathize with, a villain you can’t excuse, a villain that the mere mention of makes you sick to your stomach. An unexpected villain. An obvious villain. A villain that’s just trying his goddamn best. Sometimes the villain is defeated, sometimes the villain changes their evil ways. Sometimes the villain dies and the crowd cheers.

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d be the villain of his own story. He tried his hardest to be a good person, but there was always that side of him that made him afraid. He was like an explosive; whenever someone got too close, he’d detonate and destroy everything around him. It was a self-defense tactic, albeit counterproductive.

It killed you to see him that way. He told you about the relationships he’d lost to himself. He told you about the abandonment and the loneliness. It broke your heart. He tried to distract himself, drowning himself in work so he’d never have the opportunity to ruin what he had with you. Peter Maximoff was a walnut tree; every time he planted his roots and began to grow, he’d kill anything that grew too close. However, the constant working started to wear Peter down.

It started with the late nights. He’d collapse next to you at four AM, knocking out the minute his head hit the pillow. Still, he’d be awake before you were, already scrambling around trying to complete various tasks. He was like a machine that was running from it’s problems. The late nights turned to all-nighters, and the few hours Peter managed to salvage set aside for sleep had shrunk to a few minutes at a time. He didn’t eat anything with even a hint of nutritional value. At this rate, he was going to work himself to death.

The worst part? Peter knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. He just needed to shut up the little voice in his head that urged him to act out. The entirety of his childhood, Peter destroyed what he created. The need to be isolated, the feeling that he deserves to be alone spread throughout his body like a cancer. He locked himself away in the basement, trying desperately to stay out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t shut him out. People tried to coerce him out of his cave, to pull him out of the bottomless pit he threw himself into. Peter saw them as the sirens trying to lure him into the ocean of loneliness, and he wasn’t going to fall for it. In his eyes, anyone who tried to help him were the villains of his amazing, heroic tale. Fortunately for him, one by one, they started to give up on helping him. They thought he was a lost cause; a fucking loser who was destined to wallow in his own self-pity until he died. At first, this was a triumph. He defeated them, he outwitted the sphinx and slayed the dragon. But a part of him hated himself for becoming the worst-case scenario that every parent feared their child would grow up to be.

He pulled himself out of his pit and back onto his feet, all by himself. It was hell on Earth, but he did it. That cancerous feeling of uselessness retracted back into itself, now residing in the place next to Peter’s heart. However, that horrifying fear of becoming a burden began to grow again, this time when Peter was in his mid-20s. He began to overcompensate, and that led him to where he was; always on the brink of collapse, running on nothing but coffee and twenty minutes of sleep. In return, Peter got to have friends. In his mind, that was fair. In your mind? Not even close.

You managed to catch him in his bedroom as he was in the midst of simultaneously scribbling in a notebook and reading an open novel. Peter Maximoff would always be the most beautiful person in the world in your eyes, but at that moment, he looked like hell. Your plan seemed foolproof, but then again, you weren’t sure what you were walking into. Lately, Peter didn’t seem like himself. Probably because of the lack of sleep.

“Peter?” He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded. “I got you something.”

“You did?” A sleepy smile was all he could muster, but that was google enough for you.

“I did. It’s to mark exactly three years since I first met you,” you sat down on his bed, placing the small wrapped book right next to you. Peter glanced at the calendar on the wall-- oh god, you were right. It’s been three years to the day and he forgot. He deserves the title of “World’s Worst Boyfriend”. Scott will probably be upset that he’s losing his title.

“What’re you up to?”

“Finishing up some old work I’ve been putting off,” he punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Some of my old work and some of Hank’s, too.” “Why are you doing Hank’s work?”

“He seemed stressed about something, thought I might help clear his head,” The sentiment is sweet, you’ll give him that.

“Alright, well, can we talk for a minute?” Alarm bells went off in Peter’s brain. There has never, in the history of the universe, been a good conversation that started with ‘can we talk for a minute?’ or any of it’s cruel variants.

“Actually, I’m kind of busy right now, can this wait?” It was obvious that the answer to that was no, but still, he felt the need to ask.

“Not really, no. It’s important.” Peter saw the next few seconds playing out in his head. The inevitable had come to fruition; you realized that you could do better, and now you were cutting him loose. He couldn’t blame you, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to rip him to shreds. He realized that whatever you brought for him was most likely a parting gift. How sweet.

“Oh. Alright.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you straight,” you sighed. “I’m worried about you, Peter.”

Oh. He’s heard this speech before, he knows the spiel. He can vaguely recall a guidance counselor telling him the exact same thing before Peter decided to call him a slew of expletives. The tar pit in his chest began to grow.

“I’m fine.” This was a lie. The first lie in a long chain of lies that Peter was about to tell to you, his favorite person in the world. He loved you, but in that moment his vision clouded over. You weren’t the person he loved and cherished anymore, no, you were just another faceless blur that provided a temporary escape.

“Really? I feel like you’re pushing everyone away, you’re pushing me away.” Peter was becoming more and more irritated by the second.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not pushing you away.

“Don’t lie to me,” your voice is firm and unwavering. “You don’t sleep, you almost never eat-- I don’t think I’ve seen you stand still for more than three minutes once in the past month--”

“That’s just how I am,” Peter huffs. He wanted this conversation to be over. “That’s not your problem.”

“Your wellbeing is my problem, Peter, that’s the whole point of being friends with someone. Even more so now, because you’re my partner and I care about you--”

“Then stop,” Peter rolled his eyes. He's more irritable than normal-- most likely because he hasn’t slept in days. He could almost feel the venomous arms of isolation creeping around him. It’s a sick pattern, he knows; every time someone gets close to him, he feels the need to self-destruct before they lose interest. Even now, even after all this time, Peter’s still powerless against the poison in his veins.

“What?” You’re losing your reserve and your stature. He can tell. You’re slouching and picking at the cuticles on your thumb. It’s almost as if he’s been shoved into the back seat, and is now being forced to watch as a stranger takes the wheel and crashes the car. So much frustration, so much hurt, and it’s all coming out right now, onto you. Peter already regrets this entire interaction, but still, he manages to spit acid.

“Stop caring. Just leave, I know you want to. I know every night, you lie awake and think about all the different ways you can leave me in the dust. Not that it would matter to me.” This is another lie. Your eyes flash with hurt, but you stay put. You know he’s just being an asshole because he’s exhausted and too stubborn to admit that you’re right. He’s egging you on intentionally, trying to get you to snap and walk away.

“Peter, god, I love you but sometimes you can be so...”

“So what? C’mon, be honest with me,” He huffed.

“Frustrating,” You surrendered. The poise you once held was gone. “I know it isn’t your fault-- I know you’ve trusted so many people so deeply and been betrayed or sold out and I know you’ve loved so many times and been thrown to the curb without a second thought. But I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m here for you, and that I love you. I’ve tried everything, and it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. I want to make this work, but I need you to work with me.” It’s evident in your voice that you’re desperate. You’re just hoping you’ll get through to him, somehow. “I need you to want it as bad as I do-- hell, I need you to want it at all.” Here it comes--

“You ever think, maybe, I just don’t want you to be that person for me? I’ve spent my life being independent, my entire existence so far has been built around the fact that I’m going to end up alone. People come and people go-- people like you and Charles-- and they tell me they care. They tell me that they love me and that they're here for me. And then they get tired of me and they leave. I wish that you would just leave me the fuck alone and let me live in solitude,” There it was. The lie to end all lies. The words tasted awful coming out of his mouth, and the whole ordeal left his mouth tasting very… sour. Peter had to look away, he couldn’t look at the expression on your face.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Your eyes never met his, but you paused before you exited the room. “I know you’re probably just… I don’t know, going through something, but you’re being an asshole. Don’t talk to me until you’ve sorted your shit out. Enjoy your solitude.” You left the room impossibly fast, your fists clenched so tightly Peter feared that your nails would break the skin on your palms. He struggled to keep it together-- why the fuck did he do that?

Peter collapsed onto his bed, and it’s only then that he realized you left behind the gift you got him. A part of him thought he should return it to you, but the other part of him urged for it to be opened. He tore the wrapping paper off before he realized what he was doing. The hardcover book the wrapping paper concealed was handbound, the cover littered with your beautifully familiar handwriting. In big, bold letters The Best of Poetry in the Humble Opinion of Y/n L/n was scrawled at the top.

Peter vividly remembers a late night you spent talking to him. You told him about your favorite poems, outlining each and every little detail you loved about them. Some of them he’d read already, some of them he hadn’t, but all of them sounded like artwork coming from you. He opened the front cover, and you’d written something else on the inside.

“In the words of the wonderful Peter Maximoff, ‘What’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?’. This is me, sharing the love.”

Carefully, Peter opened to a random page in the book. He saw the notes in the margins and the doodles and the exclamation points and before he knew it Peter was on the verge of tears. He was barely containing himself, and then he read a specific annotation you made.

He had opened to the first page of “The Worm King’s Lullaby”, one of your all-time favorites. A specific line was underlined, one that Peter was all too familiar with: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Beside it, you wrote:

“As much of a genius Mr. Siken is, I have to disagree with this. If you love someone enough, you’ll never leave them and they’ll never leave you. Even if they die, even if things don’t work out, you’ll always have a little part of them to carry with you. Carry this part of me with you, Peter. Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.”

That was it. The floodgates broke. Everything that Peter had held back came pouring out-- the past 10 minutes finally caught up with him, and they hit him like a bus. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his knees pulled up to his chest so tightly he thought his legs would snap. Peter wanted to rip all his hair out or punch a hole in the wall or hold his head underwater until he was nothing but an obituary and a headstone. His chest burned and the pit of despair inside his chest had overtaken his system, and he hated himself with a burning passion. Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that?

Peter Maximoff had his breakdown in solitude, revealing in the fact that he was, undeniably, the villain of his own life.

As it turns out, ‘getting his shit together’ is much harder than Peter originally anticipated. He's trying, he really is, but it's hard. Especially without you there. Peter knows that he fucked up, and he knows that he needs to work for your forgiveness. And don’t worry, he’s going to work for it.

It had only been a week, but the entire mansion could tell that something was off. Life just wasn’t the same without the randomized gusts of wind that would knock people off their feet; no one had been seriously injured or had something stolen from them. The whirlwind that was mansion life, while still chaotic, lost it’s fun.

Charles tried to keep things running smoothly, but he was an old man and didn’t exactly understand you and Peter. People would knock on your door every now and then, but you didn’t answer. You were much too busy analyzing exactly how much of a bitch you were being-- realistically, the answer is 0%, but you didn’t see it that way. No, from your perspective, you saw Peter having a mental breakdown and you ditched him. Pretty shitty move.

What you didn’t realize was that Peter was doing the exact same thing, however, the blame falls mostly on his shoulders, and boy does he know it. He’s been scripting his grand apology, trying desperately to find the right words to express exactly how sorry he is. Peter was never very good with words-- it’s always too hard to know if you’re going to say the wrong thing and mess everything up. Although, it’s hard to see how the scenario could get any worse.

He made the executive decision to start with “I’m sorry”-- a solid start to any apology. Sure, he could stop there, but Peter realized that he’d probably need more to win back his partner. So, he managed to scribble down a few more lines on a tiny notecard he was supposed to use for studying. Oh, what a wondrous redemption arc this would be; Peter gets into a fight with his wonderful partner and ruins their relationship and then struggles to come up with a coherent apology.

“I’m sorry about what I said, that was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he was going to die alone, wasn’t he? Maybe this is the cruel punishment the world is dealing to him, the universe is deciding that Peter’s redemption arc would be better if it, well, didn’t exist. Even so, he isn’t planning on giving up or giving in just yet.

He scrapped what he had so far and started at the beginning once again. His 9th grade english teacher would tell him to write about what he knows, and though he doesn’t know much, he’s an expert when it comes to himself. Peter knows how he feels about you, he knows how sorry he is, and he knows that he really, really, really wants you to know that he didn’t mean a word he said about not wanting you. Peter knows about love, at least a little bit, and he realizes he’ll need more than just words.

His mind drifts to that night, years ago, in front of the fireplace. He vividly remembers a tiger lily and a chameleon scribbled in the margins of your book. Realistically, Peter couldn’t get his hands on a chameleon, but a tiger lily was a different story. In high school, Peter took a botany course because he thought it’d be easy. It wasn’t, it was boring as all hell, but it seems like his slacking paid off. He knew tiger lilies were indigenous to Asia, but they’d become quite common along New England-area roadways.

Peter grabbed his jacket and took off, tearing through the roads like his life depended on it. In less than 10 minutes, Peter found himself in the middle of New Hampshire drenched in rain. In hindsight, he probably should’ve checked the weather before leaving. Nevertheless, he takes off into the small wooded area that laid passed the road’s end. Dozens of mushrooms dotted the muddy ground and mossy rocks clouded his peripheral vision. The rain begins to lighten as he spots a bright orange tiger lily peeking through the remains of a tree stump. He sprints over to it.

The tiger lily is bloomed and beautiful and Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the wide array of speckles and splotches and color. It’s pristine, but some of the petals are torn or wilting. The roots stretch into the stump below it, and Peter leans closer. The stump is old and worn, fungi and bugs eat away at the base next to a large hole where a family of worms reside. The stump is ugly, sure, but it’s useful. It helps keep the bugs fed and keeps the worms warm. There’s a metaphor here somewhere, but Peter is too distracted to find it.

He gently picks the flower and spins on his heel, taking off once again. The rain makes it harder to run, but it’ll take a lot more than water to stop Peter. By the time Peter gets back to Xavier’s the flower is a little crushed, but it’s still somewhat pristine.

He has the flower, he has the apology, and now all he needs is courage. Thankfully, that courage comes quickly as he instinctively knocks on your bedroom door. He probably should’ve stopped to collect himself, but he was riding a wave of adrenaline that wouldn’t come back.

“Go away, Jean,” You called from inside. You sounded tired, and it made Peter sad.

“It’s-- uh-- it’s not Jean,” Peter can hear your hesitant footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly the courage he managed to build up drained. His hands are shaking by the time you open the door. You look up at him, and Peter looks back at you, and suddenly everything is much harder to do. He looks down at his feet.

“Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, but clear.

“Hi.” Peter’s voice is uneven and quiet. You stand there in silence for a minute before Peter pipes up again.

“So, uh, you’re probably still mad at me and I get that, but I just want you to hear me out. I-If that’s okay,” You nod slowly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He thinks about the written apology that sat in his coat pocket, and he makes the last-minute decision to forget about it. He’ll speak from the heart, or, whatever people in rom-coms do.

“I’m sorry. It was really shitty of me to get angry at you because you were worried about me-- although, I guess shitty is an understatement. Everything that I said about, yknow, not wanting you or Charles or anyone else around anymore wasn’t true. I need you guys, and I love you guys and it was unfair of me to push you away. Solitude really sucks. I guess I’m just not very good at navigating relationships,” He exhales, and his chest shudders. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I just thought I should make it clear how I feel.” It’s only then that he remembers about the tiger lily in his hand. “Oh, and this is for you.”

“A tiger lily?” you smiled softly. “These are my favorite-- how did you know?”

“I’m just observant, I guess. You usually draw them when you’re bored, I figured you’d like to see one in person,” You gently took the tiger lily in your hand. The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Peter realized that was probably a bad sign. His chest drops just a bit, and he takes a small step backwards.

“I guess I should probably leave you alone--” Peter can’t get very far, because you immediately jump forward and wrap your arms around him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you can feel Peter’s arms lock around your waist.

“Thank you,” You whispered. “Please don’t go.” Peter was smiling so hard his cheeks ached, and a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The close-contact was refreshing; he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He was pretty sure he would never, ever let you go. Not again.

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- that is, until you came along. You proved to him that he deserved physical affection, that his mutation and his personality and weirdo quirks didn’t make him lesser or unlovable. Peter Maximoff deserved love, and you were the one who never failed to love him.

You sat on a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, reading to the group of children sitting at your feet. The emotional lines of “Snow and Dirty Rain” fell from your lips, and with every turning syllable the small group would listen just a little bit closer. Peter did, too, desperately trying to hear every single word you said. Class was almost over, and once the students were dismissed you’d probably stop reading.

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is,” Your eyes tore away from the page to look at the kids at your feet. They fell upon Peter, and a smile erupted on your face.

Peter vaguely recalls the twisted idea of love that he held as a teenager. He thought love was a dragon to be defeated, a battle that could be won or lost. It’s clear now that love is the opposite-- it isn’t a fight or a battle or a thing to be conquered. It’s more like a flower; it needs to be cherished and cared for in order to grow. Sometimes the flower wilts and dies, and that’s natural, but sometimes the flower lasts for a lifetime.

Love wasn’t a dragon or a knight, it didn’t have a hero or a villain; it was much more like a tiger lily and a tree stump.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x reader #wandavision #xmen fanfiction #xmen

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