#fuck canon they have a happy ending (I love canon and cradle it in my arms like a two headed calf)

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

happy one year to the google doc for the longest ghosts/capvers fanfic (?)… its been through so much, all before its first birthday… it should’ve been at the club 😩

[cressidagrey]

Something good and right and real - Chapter 9

Summary:

Azriel had spent centuries believing that he of all people didn't deserve a mate. And if anything, the last three years had just galvinised that particular belief. And then he meets her.

The first time Oriana met Azriel, she thought that he reminded her of a skittish cat. Shy and a little bit broken. Good for him that she absolutely excelled in fixing the things around her.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Discussion of Murder, Kinda Lucien Bashing?

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

“It’s nice. The music is good. I think you wouldn’t hate it,” Oriana ended her presentation of why he should accompany her to dance. 

Quite frankly, Azriel had been willing to agree with anything Oriana had been saying, because she was sitting on his lap after they had shared lunch. He had managed to take a break from his duties for once and lunch with Oriana was definitely worth the detour he had needed to make it happen. 

And he was more than willing to agree when Oriana told him that she liked going there with friends to dance, as it was quick stomping dances that reminded her of the mountain. 

“Let’s go tonight,” he said impulsively. Even if he ended up hating it, he would have seen Oriana do something that she loved. He could sit through a few hours of that. 

And really, sitting through a few hours with live music was a far cry from the less pleasant aspects of his job. So really…  

“Yeah?” Oriana made sure, but a smile was growing on her face and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and the kiss she bestowed on him at that was worth so much more than sitting through 4 hours of music that may be horrible. 

He caught her face in his hands when she pulled back, kissing her again…and then another time. 

He only pulled back suddenly, when he felt a razor-sharp talon at the edge of his mind. 

He wanted to curse. 

It must have shown on his face because Oriana cradled his head in her hands. 

“Are you alright?” she asked him, eyebrows furrowing, and he nodded. 

“My Brother,” he gave out with a sigh, as Rhys scraped at his mind edge, obviously unwilling to wait. 

“Your brother,” Oriana repeated flatly. 

“He’s a daemati,” Azriel explained. A daemati and a pain in his ass. 

He slipped open his mental shields just enough so that Rhys could slip into them.  

His shadows hadn’t told him that anything was amiss, so really, what could this be about?  

What happened, Rhys? he asked. 

Elain and Lucien are coming over from Day. 

Right. And that mattered to him how exactly? 

It was nice that Feyre and Nesta could see their sister. But Azriel himself…well, he doubted that either Lucien or Elain would be happy to see him. 

Good for them? Azriel responded bemused. 

He hadn’t heard that it was a diplomatic mission of any kind between Day and Night, Helion hadn’t been the one dispatching his son and heir. 

So really, what did it matter? 

We’ll have dinner at the River House this evening. 

Now, he had his answer. 

I have plans, Azriel responded quickly.

 He did. And he could really imagine a better use of his time than sit through the awkwardness than that dinner promised to be. 

Everything so that he didn’t need to sit through that . 

Being cooped up alone in your house isn’t a plan, Rhys responded pointedly. Azriel wanted to bristle. 

He wasn’t the only one. His shadows actually did. 

Besides, we are talking about the future High Lord and High Lady of Day, so I am sure you can make space in your busy schedule for them, Rhys’ mental voice dripped with sarcasm but Azriel just stayed silent.

Rhys sighed.  

Get over yourself, Azriel, Rhys said quietly. 

Right. 

That’s all he was ever supposed to do, right?

He smashed down against the bitterness that welled up into him at that because quite frankly, it didn’t fucking matter anymore. 

It didn’t. 

I actually do have plans, Rhysand. I can come for dinner, but I am not staying for dessert, he gave back clipped instead. 

Fine. 

Rhys left. Azriel snapped his mental walls down behind him with far more force than necessary. 

He focused back on Oriana, who still sat on his lap, watching him carefully.  

“I am expected for dinner,” he said quietly. 

“Want to go out dancing another time?” 

Maybe he shouldn’t have expected something else, because Oriana had never asked him to tell her anything more than he had been willing to offer up by himself, but he still was. He still waited for the moment when she would be upset or angry with him because he couldn’t force himself to drag her into the abyss that was his work. Couldn’t force himself to answer a question. 

That was one thing. Oriana was another thing. 

It was unfair, he realised that. She told him about her family. About growing up and how Enya braided her hair and Kiran had used to let her run wild in his forge, about how Samson had let her hold his sword when she had just been a child of no more than 5, about how Titania was strict and seemed arrogant but had still sobbed over her husband losing a leg, and weeks later about the prothetic that Oriana had enchanted…about Cyrus and her playing together, the brother with whom she shared a father and the reality of being a child of two worlds and somehow not belonging into either. 

He couldn’t even open his mouth and tell her about Cassian or Rhys. 

He wanted to sometimes. Sometimes he thought about it. 

About what Cassian would say if he came to his brother the next day and admitted the whole thing. 

Cassian would be happy for him. He knew that. 

At first at least. 

But he didn’t know how Rhys would react and he wasn’t willing to stake Oriana’s happiness or safety on it. 

Not yet. 

“No,” he said quietly. “I’ll be done by nine? Is that early enough?”

“That’s the time, I am just starting to drink at,” Oriana said with a grin. “I’ll be waiting. I am the one in the red dress.”

He couldn't help but smile at that.

“So who is coming for dinner? If you can tell me?” she asked curiously. “Your brother?”

“Both brothers,” he answered. “Their mates. Some old friends. Lucien and Elain.”

He could give her the names. It didn’t matter. 

She pulled back, looking at him curiously. “Lucien Vanserra? Or whatever he calls himself these days?” she asked, her voice curious, but there was something else there. 

“You know him?” he asked carefully. How? Why? 

“Yeah, I know him,” Oriana said with a laugh. “He’s my cousin , Azriel.” 

His brain felt like it was freezing in place. 

What. 

“His mother and my father were siblings,” Oriana explained. “You knew my father was from the Autumn Court.  When my parents married it was quite the scandal. Lucien is a few decades older than me, but we are cousins. Haven’t talked to him in…over a century, I think though.” 

Azriel had no clue how to even react to that particular bit of knowledge.

This was entirely unexpected. And he wasn’t sure that he liked it. 

“So. I am thinking I am gonna make rabbit stew next week,” Oriana changed the topic, without asking another question or saying anything else.  “Are you gonna hunt me one and bring it to me like some barbarian warlord returning home with the carcass slung over your shoulder like a prized kill or should I just go buy one already dead?”

He dropped his head to her shoulder and started shaking with laughter. 

Azriel left Oriana with the promise to be the one responsible for the demise of a poor bunny later that week and then trudged his way towards the River House for dinner. 

He was really not looking forward to that. 

Not because he had some kind of feud with Lucien or Elain at that matter, but because seeing Elain was a constant fucking reminder of that solstice night. 

And that still pissed him off to no end, even when it was 2 years and a mating bond for him ago. 

It was still the night where Rhys had pulled rank with him about something purely personal and expected him to just accept that, without even a discussion. 

Something inside him, Azriel was quite sure, had fractured that night and he wasn’t certain if he was ever going to piece it back together again like it was before. 

If he even wanted it to

The only thing he was sure of was that his private life was going to be kept far out of Rhys’ grasp. 

Oriana was his and no one else’s and nobody was going to take her from him. 

And now he sounded like a possessive asshole. 

Weakly, he wondered if that was the mating bond at play, pulling out every territorial instinct he had…and he had quite a few of them. He had never really had anything that was his and his alone after all. 

Still, every thought of Oriana was banned from his mind as soon as he arrived, instead replaced with once again contemplating table linens. 

Why not. 

If Rhys picked up a stray thought, he would probably think that Azriel had gone completely mad, but hey, that was fine too. 

Still, Elain looked as lovely as always, and Azriel managed to snag a seat at a corner of the table, next to Cassian on the other side, and Morrigan at the head. 

It could be worse, he imagined. 

Like this, he was far, far away from Rhys…and from Lucien as well. 

The one thing that did quip his curiosity was the incessant whirring of Lucien’s mechanical eye though.

“Is everything alright with your eye?” Feyre was the one who asked the question that Azriel also had.  He listened with half an ear, not that interested in the answer. 

“No, it has decided to act like this,” Lucien gave back sarcastically. “Nuan already took it apart, she has no clue what is wrong with it. She has reached out to some old friends of hers, including the person who figured out the spell in the first place. But until then, I am stuck with this.”

He means Mistress, his shadows piped up suddenly and Azriel’s eyebrows rose with that. 

You are sure?

Mistress figured out a way to make artificial limbs feel real when her brother-in-law lost his leg in a mining explosion. She spent around a decade concentrating on that, his shadows hissed. 

He knew about the prosthetic leg. He hadn’t known that she had spent a decade working on that. 

Mistress talks to us while she is working, his shadows answered the unspoken question. Mistress is very smart. 

Yeah, Azriel agreed with that assessment.  

But if Nuan, the Master Tinkerer from Dawn Court had already taken the eye apart and not figured out anything that was wrong with it…well. Then it clearly wasn’t a mechanical problem. It was a problem with the enchantment that made it work. 

“You need an enchanter,” he said evenly. The conversation quieted down at that. 

“I do not,” Lucien sniped back.

“Yes, you do,” Azriel disagreed. “If it was a mechanical problem, Nuan would have figured it out. So it’s a problem with the enchantment. Who did it the first time?”

“Nuan did,” Lucien answered, crossing his arms.  

“She’s an alchemist, not an enchantress. You need one of those to fix…whatever the problem is,” he said with a wave of his hand. 

“What do you even know about it?” Lucien asked with a snort. 

“I know that it is a completely different skill set,” Azriel gave back tightly. And then, he said something he shouldn't have because his temper got the better of him. “I also know that you are related to one.”

Lucien’s knife hit the plate with a clang. “How do you even know that?” he demanded. 

“I am the spymaster of the Night Court,” Azriel gave back like that answered every single question Lucien could possibly pose. 

And maybe it did. 

It was nothing that he could not also have found out through very different channels.  

“So what, you care about gossip from 3 centuries ago?” Lucien responded sharply. “Do you have nothing better to do?” 

“Luce…” Elain said softly, but Azirel ignored her. 

“If it’s useful, yes .” 

“How could it possibly be useful to you? Also, he’s dead. Has been dead, for over a century,” Lucien told him harshly. 

Oh. 

Well, that made it better. Lucien didn’t even think about Oriana. He thought that Azriel had been talking about her father .  

“That didn’t show up in your research, did it?” Lucien asked with a harsh smile. 

Oh, he was willing to let Lucien have that round. 

Can you ask Oriana if she would be willing to take a look at Lucien’s eye? She probably already got a letter about it from the Head Tinkerer from Dawn.  

The answer came minutes later, not by a sentence hissed by his shadows, but by the letter they dropped next to his plate. 

He opened the note. It smelled like peppermint. 

Yes, of course. Just give him the note enclosed. Tomorrow morning. And just tell him that we share a common acquaintance, if you don’t want him to know that we know each other, Sweetling. 

Also, If you have read this note, drop it in a glass, please. 

He did just that. 

It went up in flames, just seconds later. 

“By the cauldron, you are seeing Eris!” Cassian blurted out and Azriel felt like his brain froze for the second time that day. 

“Cassian!” Nesta snapped, for some reason managing to sound long-suffering, "We talked about this." 

“The letter just went up in flames! That’s how the Autumn Court sends correspondence!” Cassian reasoned. “You are seeing Eris!”

“And because of that, you are now thinking that Azriel has a love affair with Lucien’s half-brother?” Feyre asked, sounding like…she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. 

Well, neither could Azriel. 

“Yes!”  Cassian exclaimed. 

“No,” Azriel deadpanned. 

Over his dead body. Not after what happened with Mor. Never. 

“But…” Cassian started to protest. 

“Cassian, I have absolutely no idea what makes you think that I am in some kind of romantic relationship with Eris Vanserra but I’ll gladly swear to you on my own life, that that is not happening in a million years,” he said drily. “And Eris was not the one writing me.” 

“Who was writing to you then?” Rhys questioned pointedly. “Must be somebody from autumn.” 

“I know somebody that knows somebody,” he gave back evenly, as he handed the second not for Cassian to pass to Lucien.  “An enchantress is willing to meet you tomorrow. Bright and Early.” 

Lucien reached out for the note with some trepidation. 

“If I wanted you dead, the plan would be a lot less convoluted. Just for your information,” Azriel said drily.

Lucien glared at him. 

“Where did you meet her?” he demanded. 

“I know somebody that knows somebody,” Azriel repeated. “That’s my job. And that reminds me, I have to go.”

Far away from Cassian and his conspiracy theories, that much was certain. 

He still had no idea how Cassian had even come up with this. He didn’t know if he even wanted to know. 

“So soon?” Feyre asked surprised. 

“I have plans.” 

“What kind of plans?” She wondered. 

“The kind of plans that I am not willing to change.”

Quite frankly, all he wanted was to curl up on Oriana’s couch, underneath the ugliest blanket he had ever seen, but he should have known that it was not gonna be quite that easy. 

So he went to the pleasure hall she had named him and let his shadows lead him right to the female in the bright red dress. 

He would have found her even without knowing the colour of the dress, because even now, in a dress with nothing that proclaimed her a goldsmith by trade…there was traces of it, everywhere. From the points of her shoes that were decorated with a gold tip, to the low open back of her dress that was held in place at her neck with a myriad of chains. 

From the front…it was deceptively simple. From the back…not so much. 

She suited the colour. Not as much as Blue did in his opinion though.

“Sorry, I am late,” he said softly as he slid to her side at the bar and she grinned brightly at him, just as the bartender, pushed four glasses in her direction and she immediately handed two off to him.

“You aren’t, Sweetling,” she assured him. “Ready to meet my friends?” 

He just nodded. 

The fluttering pearlescent wings that resembled a butterfly, were the first thing he saw. 

He immediately placed that to belong to Palote Fairy, a lesser Faeries, often found in the summer court. 

Far from home, that much was certain. 

She turned to him, a head covered in blue hair that matched her wings and she stared at him. 

“By the cauldron, you are real!” she explained as Oriana slid into the seat beside her. A High Fae male was with her, blonde and blue-eyed, looking like he wanted to be everywhere but here. 

“Did you think I was lying?” Oriana said with a snort

“No!” The female hurried to add. “I just didn’t…Hi! I am Hyacinth! That’s Evander!” she said quickly. The male fae, Evander, lifted his glass in greeting, obviously quieter than his companion. 

“Nice to meet you. Oriana has told us literally nothing about you,” he said drily. “Which is good, because Hyacinth wouldn’t have believed her anyway.” 

Hyacinth just glared at her companion.

“Hey! It’s just that she came out of it with nowhere! She disappears for a few weeks and then shows up with, Oh I met my mate! By the way, he’s Illyrian!” Hyacinth defended herself. 

“Because Oriana has totally bothered to lie to you before. We all remember that one time…”

Or maybe the male wasn’t quite after all, because these two started squabbling in a way that was worse than Cassian and Nesta sometimes were prone to be doing. 

“What happened that one time?” he wondered quietly to Oriana, who just snorted. 

“Hyacinth and I didn’t know each other very well and she didn’t take me at all seriously when I told her that I could control fire. So I showed her. Right there in the middle of her flower shop. And she dumped water all over me…Did I mention that the flowers were still in said pot of water? I got to pick out tulips out of my hair for ten minutes afterwards.”

The mental picture that painted, made him snort, even as Oriana leaned into his side. 

Nobody threw water at Oriana that evening, though she did seem to seemingly know every person who attended and dragged him down onto the floor as soon as there was a dance that wasn’t the very quick stomping dances that she seemed to enjoy the most. 

Still, for once he was very thankful that centuries of fighting training meant that he was very quick on his feet and managed to figure out the steps behind it quickly. 

But even if he didn’t…he wouldn’t have cared, because Oriana glowed with happiness throughout that night. It seemingly surrounded her, an effervescent beauty that he couldn’t name. He could just stare at it in wonder. 

“Thank you for coming,” she said as they spilt out into the night air as the evening ended, her arm slipping through his, her hair curling against her neck, where she had sweat from her dancing. 

“Of course.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“So Dinner didn’t go that well, did it?” She asked Azriel as they ambled their way to her apartment. The walk wasn’t longer than maybe 5 minutes, and it was a night in the Rainbow…of course, it was still filled with faes and fairies of all kinds mulling around. 

And still, Azriel had showed up at The Moonlight Vault with a face like thunder. (Yes, the name sucked. It was still one of the best establishments Velairs had to offer as far as Oriana was concerned.)

“…How,” Azriel wondered and Oriana just shrugged, holding his arm a little bit tighter. 

“You were looking ready to flee as soon as you entered,” she said drily. “You know, you could have just had your shadows tell me that you weren’t in the mood. That would have been totally fine, Azriel.” 

She didn't want him to go through that kind of torture if he didn’t want to. It wasn’t…His day job already promised to be horrible enough. 

“I wanted to be with you,” Azriel gave back quietly like that explained everything. 

Her heart melted a little bit at that.  She just grasped his arms a little bit tighter. 

“I ordered the couch we picked by the way,” she said at that moment. Furnishing the Lake House was coming along…questionably. 

They had managed to pick out a couch, thanks to her offering up multiple furniture catalogues for Azriel’s perusal and him having opinions about interior design that she never even thought he would have. 

They had ended up going with a brown leather couch, big enough to fill some of the empty space in their house.

“Sounds great,” Azriel said softly. 

“Any luck with your table linens?" she teased him as they finally reached her apartment and she unlocked the door. 

“Not yet,” Azriel answered with a snort. 

“Haven’t had any luck with chairs yet…especially none that look like they are comfortable for your wings,” she admitted. “Still working on that.”

“Just buy whatever you want. I’ll deal with it,” Azriel said, like that was completely reasonable as he followed behind her up the stairs. 

Completely reasonable for him to be uncomfortable. 

“It’s your home, you don’t need to deal with it. I already found you one chair that works with your wings, I’ll find dining chairs that work as well,” she pointed out drily. “You maybe can’t expect the rest of the world to accommodate you, but you definitely can expect that at home.” 

Especially as far as she was concerned.  “What else?” she added, tapping a finger against her lips. “I am working on a warding net by the way.”

“A warding net ?” Azriel asked her, sounding confused as she shrugged off her coat. 

“You can put it into stones,” she explained with a shrug. No need to shoulder the magic for it on their own. It was something she had made for the mountain. Granted the road to the final version had been, pardon the pun, stony. 

“That works?” Azriel wondered. 

“Of course it works, I made it,” Oriana said drily. She had trust in her abilities. More than she should probably have. Azriel stared at her for a moment. 

“How many things do you make that you never bother telling anybody about?” he asked her curiously, shrugging off his own coat. She thought about it for a minute.

“A lot,” she admitted with a sigh. “If it‘s easy enough to replicate and scale, and selling it would give me a profit…then I go to the mountains, to our guild and file a kind of patent on it. So nobody can replicate that without paying me for the right to use it,” she explained. “Like the teapots,” she pointed out as an example. “But the warding net? It’s going to take me at least a couple more weeks of working on it before it’s ready to be placed. It’s a question of want and need. Not many people would have the money to pay me enough to make the work worth my time,” she admitted.  “It just takes too long to be financially sound. I just make it because the time is worth it to me for the security it provides.”

“It’s safe?” Azriel asked, his voice and eyes serious. Oriana met his gaze. 

“As safe as I can make it. The safest ward I ever made.”

“Did you put an anti-winnowing ward into it?” he asked her, and she grinned at him. 

“Who do you think I am? Of course. Shadow Walking will work though.”

She took a quick bath, and by the time she got to crawl into her bed, Azriel was already waiting for her, paging through the book that she had had on her bedside table. The Knight and the Dragon's Heart. 

Quite frankly, she slept better curled up underneath his wing than she did anywhere else. Especially after she got a kiss goodnight and then got to sleep straight through until the next morning, when they had breakfast together with some pastries he had fetched from the bakery two buildings down. 

He went to work and Oriana opened her shop, greeting Cilla, the second female that she had come in to help in the shop these days so that she could concentrate on her forge. 

Penelope and her did a great job at manning the till so that Oriana could go back to creating and quite frankly, she quite enjoyed it. 

Still, that day she lingered in the front room of her shop at least until she recognised a shock of auburn hair. 

Lucien. 

Time had been kind to him, though the brutal scars that ran down the left side of his face…that was another thing entirely. 

She had never actually seen them, though she had heard what had happened to him. Gossip was strong, even in Velaris. 

“Lucien,” she greeted him, adopting the persona of her mother’s daughter. Her shoulders went back, her voice found that perfect tone of polite and warm. 

Normally she didn’t see the need for it. But he wasn’t alone. 

With him was a beautiful female. Golden Brown hair that fell down her back in soft waves and was tied away from her face with a little ribbon, big doe eyes, and a lithe frame. 

Delicate was a good description for her. 

“Oriana,” he greeted her. “Last I heard you were no longer an enchantress,” he quipped as he came to stand before her. 

“Well, family has privileges,” she said calmly. “And it is my work that is keeping that eye  from exploding, so I figured, I should lend a hand, of course.”

Both polite, but pointed as well. 

Making it very clear that she may be 2 centuries younger than him, but she was the best in her trade. And she said that with no arrogance. 

A smile stretched over Lucien’s face at that. 

“Of course,” he repeated. “My wife, Elain. My cousin, Oriana,” he introduced his wife who stared at Oriana wide-eyed for a moment. Oriana mentally checked that her eyes were black and not fucking creepy as Cyurs liked to say and smiled at her. Suddenly, Elain smiled prettily at Oriana, offering her hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her voice high and light. “I never met an enchantress before.”

“We are a rare breed,” she said drily as she took Elain’s soft hand surprised at the calloused she had. Not a delicate little flower after all, maybe?

One should never judge a book by its cover, she had learned that early. 

“Let’s go into the forge. Then you can tell me what is wrong with your eye,” she invited Lucien and waved him and his wife through to the backroom. She had even tidied up a bit for him. 

Elain stared around like it was the first time she had seen something like that and Oriana imagined it probably was. 

“It looks like it does at the blacksmith’s,” Elain said suddenly. 

“Oriana is half Tartera,” Lucien hurried to explain. “They are lesser faeries and life in the mountains surrounding Velaris. They are known for their jewellery making.”

One could break it down like that.

“Lucien and I are cousins through his mother and my father,” Oriana explained as Lucien carefully removed the golden eye. She held out a tissue for him to place it in because she would need to completely take it apart. 

“The last time I met Oriana, she was still living in the mountain full time though,” Lucien said quietly. “The jewellery shop seems to be a new addition.”

“If you call new a hundred years ago, yes,” Oriana said with some amusement as she received the eye and carried it over to her workbench to take it apart. 

She had even pulled out the tiny screwdrivers for this job. 

“I left the mountains over a century ago,” she picked up the conversation. 

“Why?” Elain wondered. “Didn’t you grow up there?” she seemed actually curious about it, a kind and gentle fae or at least willing to make every appearance of it.

“I did. But I feel out of love with my job,” Oriana answered honestly. 

“How is Wynstan?” Lucien wondered. “Did he come with you?”

“He’s dead,” Oriana said drily. “Has been. For over a century. I am surprised that you haven’t heard that story,” she quipped. “It was quite the thing when it happened.” 

Though since she had gotten rid of the necklace…the only thing she was still feeling when she thought about Wynstan was fury for what he had taken from her. 

It clearly wasn’t what Lucien had expected though. 

“My…condolences,” he hurried to say but she waved him off.” 

“Oh don’t worry about it,” she said absentmindedly as she peered into the inner workings of his eye until she found the culprit. 

“Ah, I found your problem,” Oriana said, as she poked at the runic array. “Some of the runes have eroded.”

“Can you fix it?” Lucien asked, his voice trembling slightly. 

She looked up from her work. 

“I used to be the Master Enchantress of my people, one of the foremost goldsmiths they have, and you ask me if I can fix an eroded rune?” she asked him, her voice bone dry. “Yes, Lucien, I can fix that. I can also make sure that it never happens again and even renew the runic array so it works better than before.”

“And you aren’t an enchantress any longer?” Lucien asked with a raised brow. 

“I still have the training. I just tend to use it for personal projects. These days there are other titles I would much rather claim,” she answered drily, as she went back to her work. 

A few minutes later, she polished the golden eye, before she offered it to Lucien. 

“All done,” she said. 

“How did you meet Azriel?” Elain piped up suddenly and Oriana went back to picking up her workbench. “He was the one who told you that…”

“Azriel didn’t tell me anything,” she corrected. “We have a common acquaintance. Azriel pulled a lot of strings and a lot of favours. My acquaintance asked me as a favour to him, just as he did it as a favour to Azriel.” 

Lucien seemed less than pleased with the sudden change of conversation.

Or maybe less than pleased with the topic of conversation. 

She wondered what that was about, but she didn’t want to outright ask. 

“Azriel didn’t need to do that,” she pointed out, keeping her voice even. “I hope you are aware of that.” 

Lucien ignored that pointed comment. 

So there was definitely something. 

“Are you one of his spies?” Elain asked, sounding somehow wide-eyed and naive and for a moment Oriana froze. 

Spies. 

Somehow that answered so many questions that she hadn’t even known she had had. Azriel's spies. He was a Shadowsinger. He was the spymaster of this whole damn court, wasn’t he?

“Do you really think that if I was, I would tell you?” she gave back, forcing out a high tinkling laugh that sounded only natural because she had spent decades honing it.  “And the answer is a very resounding no. I am not subtle enough for that.”

“She’s not,” Lucien snorted. “People that annoy her are getting set on fire on the regular.”

She just shrugged, even at Elain’s horrified look. 

She was not going to apologize for that. She had only ever done it to people that really deserved it. 

Still, the list was quite amusing. It not only included the current High Lord when he had been a few hundred years younger but also her brother on more than one occasion and as a 5-year-old even her grandmother. 

“Thank you,” Lucien said at that moment, and she looked at him, the gold eye moving smoothly. “It’s better than new.” 

“Of course it is. Do you still not have any trust in my abilities?” Oriana quipped. “And I am not the one you need to thank.”

“What do I owe you?” Lucien asked but she shook her head. 

“It’s taken care of.”

Still, as she watched, Lucien and Eleain leave, she couldn’t help but wonder, her mind running wild, as she thrummed her fingernails against her workbench. 

“How did it go?”  Azriel asked her that evening. 

“I fixed the eye,” she answered honestly. “I met his wife.”

She watched Azriel as she said these words, watched how his fingers tightened near imperceptively around his cutlery. 

“Lucien was the mate, wasn’t he?” she asked evenly. Lucien had been the mate of the female that Azriel fell in love with after he spent 500 years pining after a female that couldn’t be less interested in him. 

That’s what he had told her. Right at the very beginning. 

“Lucien is the mate. Elain is the one who got away.”

“Yes,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “Ask.”

“Ask what?” she asked him, needing Azriel to say it. Needing him to…

She wasn’t even sure why. He had been honest to her from the beginning. there was no reason for her to doubt him. And she felt bad that she even thought about it.

“Ask if I still love her,” Azriel said softly. “That’s what you are wondering about.”

“Do you?” Oriana said quietly. Did he? 

She was his mate. But was she…

“No.” There was no doubt in Azriel’s tone. “I liked her. I have loved her. I was in love with her. I was infatuated with her. And I’ll always think that…how it was dealt with wasn’t right,” he struggled to form the words. “It wasn’t…Being ordered not to pursue her wasn’t right,” he repeated, the words low and she stared at him. Who had…Who had the power to order Azriel not to pursue a female? What…what even… "But it did work out."

“Elain is lovely. But she isn’t you…what I had with her was a spark, Oriana. You are a whole firestorm.

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “soon, i will make you my wife,” he promises softly, holding her hands to his chest, and y/n looks up at him with eyes that reflect a million stars as she smiles.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: avatar ( 2009/2022 ) | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: tonowari/fem!reader, background ronal/tonowari, past neteyam/fem!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 4.19k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: age gap, soft dom tonowari, mentioned past bottom tonowari, romance-oriented, reader is besties w neteyam ( they’ve had some sexytimes tho so besties w benefits real ), bi neteyam supremacy, bi reader too bitch, cockwarming, previously established relationship, secret to not-so-secret relationship, reader and neteyam are twenty, canon divergent world building ( metkayina olo’eyktans commonly have multiple wives, etc ), jealousy.

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

“fuck, i’ve wanted you all day.”

tonowari’s voice, low and thick with arousal, is muffled as he mouths along the line of y/n’s collarbone, a breathy smile quirking up her lips as she reaches up to cup the back of his head, cradling it as he laves her skin with attention. 

“i could tell,” she murmurs, tipping her head back ever so slightly to give him more places to kiss. 

“yeah? ‘s that why you were all over that damn boy?” he grumbles against her flesh, and she laughs softly and relaxes further in his hold as he shifts a little, his length buried oh-so-sweetly inside shifting with him. the fullness that came with it only further calmed her; goddess above, she wished this would never end. 

“you’re always so jealous of neteyam, aren’t you?” she asks quietly, taking a lock of his hair in hand and beginning to quickly braid it as she’d done time and time again with her best friend and his younger siblings and parents. the act cemented bonds and love between na’vi in omaticayan culture, and tonowari only tipping his head closer so she wouldn’t have to stretch as much made her smile. 

tonowari growls out a low, “he’s laid with you many times before — you’ve said so yourself,” and y/n scoffs and lets go of the half started braid to hold it in one hand as the other rubs at his cheek fondly. 

“and you’ve fucked ronal enough to sire two children with a third on the way,” she  retorts, then hums thoughtfully as she begins braiding with his hair again. “although i can’t really fault you for it; if i was married to ronal and had the means, we would have a handful of children as well.” this makes him smile.  

“it makes me happy that you are still attracted to my wife despite the way she’s treated you this far,” he murmurs, nuzzling against her as his former  jealousy is left forgotten. 

“she is your first wife, jealousy is to be expected,” y/n muses, then chuckles. “and hopefully i can find ways to… appease the disliking she has for me.”

tonowari’s eyes twinkle. “i don’t doubt you’ll manage to get your way,” he says honestly, and y/n chuckles quietly before letting the untied braid disappear into the rest of his curls as she settles against his chest. they sit together like this for a while, resting as one beneath a high blanket of stars and moons granted to them by the great mother. y/n hums softly, taking one of tonowari’s large hands into both of her own, and he gazes down at her fondly as she toys with his fingers. 

“i’ll have to return soon, you know,” she finally says, breaking the comfortable silence, and tonowari sighs. 

“must you? surely i could just tug you along to my marui.”

y/n laughs. “no. neteyam waits for me at the shores, practicing for the dives he is to go on — just as ronal waits for you within the marui you so lazily just mentioned.”

tonowari  sighs, but nods in agreement. “yes, you’re right,” he mumbles quietly, nuzzling against her gently before carefully helping the two of them part and begin to make themselves decent again. 

as y/n finishes tying the top that she’d made a fortnight prior, tonowari takes her hands in his own. “soon, i will make you my wife,” he promises softly, holding her hands to his chest, and y/n looks up at him with eyes that reflect a million stars as she smiles. 

“keep this promise, and i will bear you half a dozen sons,” she sighs, and he laughs. 

“i need no more children as long as i have you,” he replies, a warm look in his eye as he reaches a hand up to cup her cheek. “tomorrow night, you and i will bond for life — if you will have me.”

y/n gazes up at him, pleased, and nods once, then the two go their separate ways. 

“hey, uh, y/n — where were you and neteyam last night?”

the sudden question, sprung on her by her best friend’s younger brother lo’ak, had the elder na’vi woman tensing. neteyam cuts his eyes at her from the side, his tail swishing over to rest on top of hers for a slight second before moving back, and she chuckles a little before returning to cutting up the fruit she was handing out, giving the first piece ( completely rid of the bitter peel ) to a whining, oblivious tuk, who accepts it excitedly. 

“why were you awake so late, lo’ak?” she retorts good naturedly, neteyam smiling softly in amusement by her side as he also resumes his work on descaling one of the fish he’d caught that morning when meeting up with y/n on her return from her escapade. he’d been practicing his breathing techniques all night — and unlike his brother, he knew exactly what y/n had been doing. she’d never been too shy about sharing — not with him. 

“i asked you first,” lo’ak replies, and y/n raises an eyebrow. 

“i asked you second. plus i’m older than you,” she says simply, pulling a full grin from her best friend as he cast the scales in his hand onto a large leaf he had resting to the side of him that y/n wasn't occupying ( as usual ).

lo’ak pouts playfully, a smile he was fighting off making the corners of his mouth twitch. he clearly wants to keep asking about it, nosy as ever, and kiri is also about to say something as y/n hands her her own large cut of fruit, but they both drop the subject when jake exits the marui not too far away with neytiri following closely. none of them wanted to see how they’d blow the adult na’vi slipping out of their new home in the middle of the night out of proportion. 

“morning, kids!” jake greets warmly, tail swishing happily behind him, and neytiri echoes the sentiment while kissing the top of tuk’s head. neteyam and y/n share a look, unable to understand how both his father and his mother were always so damn cheery in the mornings when they always felt like death; their own mornings typically included hisses and growls shot between the two of them directed at one another, with the occasional nip or full-on bite being shared. 

jake and neytiri take their places in the messy circle made up by the little group, leaning against one another fondly. jake graciously accepts the fruit offered by y/n once kiri and lo’ak get their own large hunks of the fruit, tipping his head in appreciation and thanks as he gently takes it from her and begins to eat, neytiri being offered the next piece. soft conversation starts as everyone eats what they’ve been given and y/n cuts neteyam his own piece, holding it up to him while continuing to cut one handed so he can also eat while he continues preparing fish. he takes a bite, bumping his nose against her knuckles in thanks as he chews, and the two loop their tails together fondly as they return to work. neytiri and jake share a look between themselves, both smiling at the sight. they were so, so sure that they’d find the two had disappeared and then returned mated sometime soon — and they were so excited for it! y/n had been a constant fixture in their lives for so long now, having been best friends with neteyam since the two were still learning to crawl. she’d melded perfectly with their family over the last twenty years, she and neteyam were thick as thieves, and neytiri had been so excited to see what she would do as tsahik before they’d had to flee. now she would not be tsahik, just as neteyam would not be olo’eyktan, but they were still more than anticipating the eventual official welcome into their family ( as well as the grandchildren that would follow ).

in their distraction with one another, they miss the way y/n’s eyes and ears flick towards the passing chief of the metkayina, the large male looking at her as well through the corner of his eye as he passes while making rounds of the village as he did every morning. she raises an eyebrow and he obviously fights off a slight smile before carrying on on his way. neteyam, watching all of this in amusement, uncurls his tail from hers and slaps her on the back with it gently, regaining her attention as she turns to smack him back and  start squabbling with him through a smile of her own. 

his parents and siblings, oblivious as ever, just hide their smiles and laughter as they watch the two. 

the work day begins after that, neteyam and y/n make their way through the village doing the tasks assigned to them with relative ease and swiftness, much to the pleasure of the metkayina and their leaders. the two had taken to ocean life and works with ease, working hard and long to earn their keep all day long. 

their tails, linked as always, keep them from losing each other as they travel through the busy epicenter of the village, a place teeming with children and expecting mothers and the elderly and sickly as well as other working na’vi, and neither pay attention to the occasional stares they get for it. 

“so… gonna tell me more about your little adventure last night?” he murmurs into her ear as they sit down at a more private spot with all of the seagrass, reeds, and other things that they’d be hand weaving into baskets and braiding into nets today. 

y/n laughs softly, a twinkle in her eye that neteyam was excited to see ( it had been so long, after all ). “how much do you want to know?” she asks quietly, taking a few reeds and stripping them to get the stringy insides, her fingers flying as she begins braiding them as easily as she braided neteyam’s hair. 

“skxawng — you know i want you to tell me everything,” he snaps through a grin. “you got fucked by the metkayina olo’eyktan, and this seduction of yours has been months in the making. don’t be so cruel as to keep secrets from me.”

y/n is quiet for a while, thinking about what he said, before replying with a, “well, it was more like i fucked him,” that has neteyam’s jaw dropping around a wild smile. 

“you topped him?!” he hisses, laughing a little, and y/n grins back as she shrugs. 

“i don’t kiss and tell,” she says in mock-snootiness, and he scoffs and bumps her with his shoulder. 

“liar, you’ve told me how all your lovers’ cum tasted, tell me how it was,” he retorts, ignoring her hiss for him to lower his voice as she giggles a little. 

“it was…” she sighs. “god, neteyam, it was so good.” he raises an eyebrow and waits for her to continue, which she does. “he was so attentive and sweet — nothing like the bumbling omaticaya boys, and he knew how to eat it unlike most of the omaticaya girls and boys.”

neteyam grins. “so you’re saying… this is a man,” he says, and y/n swats at him through a grin of her own before giggling deviously. 

“one could say that it’s two men,” she purrs, and neteyam’s eyes widen. 

“it’s that big?!” he hisses, and she nods wildly with a wide smile. the two fall apart in the revelation she shared, tossing opinions back and forth, including thoughts of ronal; neither were unfamiliar with partners of the same sex, and both had been a part of a group of na’vi seeking pleasure more than once, always groups including both of them. neteyam knew what y/n liked, had seen her go for it in person multiple times, and from what both had murmured about in the dark ( even during times the two had fucked here in awa’atlu before y/n had really set her sights on tonowari and his wife ) he knew that she more than liked what she saw when gazing at the olo’eyktan and tsahik. 

“god, ‘teyam, i came four times,” y/n groans, covering her face for a second, and neteyam’s eyes widened. 

“you were only gone for an hour!” he cries quietly; both notice when ronal enters the center area of the village and that she’s watching them, but act as if they don’t notice the glares sent y/n’s way by the tsahik in favor of continuing their conversation. “we went out together to practice and then you caught his scent and ditched me —goddess above, it must have been good.  is that why you came back on such shaky legs?”

“you have no idea,” y/n murrs, leaning against him fondly. “he’s one of the best i’ve ever had. i mean it.”

neteyam looks impressed. “damn,” he replies, “you better fucking lock that down.”

y/n giggles. “do you not see the way ronal is looking at me?” she asks warmly, and neteyam scoffs. 

“she always looks at you like that, she hates you,” he retorts, and it was true; while it was a known metkayina custom for their olo’eyktan to take on more than one partner and/or mate, tonowari and ronal’s relationship was well known as he had stayed with her and her alone for just over twenty years now. “you better go down on her like you did irta’ne back home.” y/n rolls her eyes.

“tonowari and i have been meeting more than just last night,” she says ( as if neteyam doesn’t already know ). “we’ve had many conversations, learned much about each other. last night we only wished to press further — and once we were done, he promised that tonight we would make tsaheylu and confirm our relationship, that i would become his wife.” this bit of information surprises neteyam; he’d obviously known that the two had been meeting up, and that the two had been engaging in sexual pleasure with each other for the last three or so months, but this? this was new. y/n had never entertained the thought of mating before with anyone but him ( they’d sworn that if they both were still unmated by the time they turned thirty that they’d bond with each other when they’d passed their iknimaya back home ); this was big. he opens his mouth to comment on it, but y/n isn’t finished. “he told me that he’d told ronal of his intentions already. that’s why she’s been avoiding us as best she can.”

“and as usual, i’m being punished by association,” neteyam groans playfully, laughing a little when y/n pushes him slightly, only to get serious. “really though, i am happy for you — this is really important. i know you’ve been hesitant about mating, and to know that you consider tonowari and ronal the perfect match is good.”

y/n smiles. “thank you,” she whispers, truly happy, and the two press close and intertwine their tails again before returning to their work, which they’d been distracted from. a thought comes to y/n, and she snorts, and when neteyam gives her a confused look she squints at him. 

 “and by the way, when i get my hands on ronal, i’ll have her howling like i had all the girls, not just irta’ne,” she grumbles matter-of-factly. 

neteyam just laughs. 

night falls sooner than either neteyam or y/n planned, and before know it they’re returning to the marui they shared with the rest of neteyam’s family and  settling down for the night. y/n curls up beside neteyam on their shared bedroll as usual, their tails curling together as they tended to throughout the day and at all times while they slept, and when they give their second blanket to tuk because she complains of still being cold they press closer to one another, whispering back and forth in volumes far too low for even their family member to head despite being so close. once again jake and neytiri share knowing glances ( though truthfully they knew nothing at all ) as they get ready for rest as well, and soon everything is silent aside from the sounds of them sleeping. 

y/n hums in her sleep, pressing closer to neteyam on instinct then blinking awake slowly when the warmth of his body seeps into her more. she glances through slitted eyes towards the window, seeing the darkness outside, and slowly disentangles herself from her friend, who blearily opens his eyes before squinting up at her. 

“it is time,” she whispers, not having to explain herself, and suddenly he’s wide awake. he sits up.

“i’m so happy for you,” he whispers, smiling fondly at her, and she smiles back. 

“me too,” she responds softly, and he gets up to walk her out of the marui, neither noticing neytiri’s eyes open and widen as she sees the two walk out hand in hand as quietly as possible. she smiles, excited for the impending announcement from her son and future daughter tomorrow, and tries to go back to sleep.

neteyam and y/n part ways halfway to the usual meeting spot that tonowari and y/n shared, and neteyam bumps his nose against hers once fondly. “good luck,” he whispers. “if you need me, yell for me; i’ll listen.”

“perv,” y/n murmurs softly through a slight smile, and neteyam scoffs. 

“nevermind, skxawng,” he replies, rolling his eyes and smiling before backing off. y/n sends a nod his way, then turns and walks toward the spot she intended to meet tonowari. it’s not too far of a swim once she reaches the water, and she finds him waiting for her still dripping wet; he clearly had only just gotten here himself, knelt surrounded by the glowing flora and beneath eywa’s many stars. 

“tonowari,” y/n calls softly, and she sees his ears flick up excitedly before he turns with a smile, watching with interest as she pulls herself from the water. 

“hello, my love,” he murmurs, walking towards her and resting his hands on her hips. she presses her body against him, sighing happily as she soak up his warmth, and smiles against him as she feels him chuckle. “i have waited all day for tonight,” he whispers, and she laughs. 

“oh? and why do you speak so softly when we are the only ones here?” she asks, her voice just as quiet. he leans down and presses his forehead against hers, not responding, and she melts into it. 

“out of respect for you.”

goddess above. no one, man or woman, had ever made her feel the way he did. 

she pulls away from him, slowly moving around him in a dance he mimics as they circle one another. the tension between them grows, and he follows her deeper into the glowing depths of the lone island that housed more flora than was present at the beaches, the island that reminded her of the forest she used to call home. tonowari had brought her here on their tenth or so escapade when he remembered what it looked like and hoped that it could bring her a sense of comfort; she had cried that night, and had held him close. they had done nothing but sleep in each other’s arms, and it was what had boosted their romantic relationship in ways they could never come back from. after that day, y/n had cut off neteyam. 

“come,” y/n whispers over her shoulder, disappearing onto the trees, and tonowari follows like a starving man to a meal, never one to deny her. they rush through the plants growing everywhere, each step they take lighting up the plants beneath their feet and marking their way before slowly fading out as they continue forward until finally they stop before a grove of trees that glowed the most beautiful shades of pinks, purples, and blues. the two stand side by side in silence, staring, before y/n wraps her hands around tonowari’s wrist and studies it, knowing he’s looking down at her fondly but nervous to witness it; tonowari had such a way when it came to speaking with just his eyes, and it took her breath away every time. 

“if you are nervous, we can wait,” he murmurs, but y/n shakes her head. 

“no,” she whispers. “i want this. i want you.”

the two press on into the trees before finding a spot y/n deemed perfect, pressing close enough that their skin pressed flush against the other. y/n climbs on top of where he’s knelt on his knees, cupping his face in both of her hands and staring into his eyes as the two speak wordlessly. the stars, scattered between the glowing flora above them, reflect in his eyes, and she finds herself dangerously close to being lost in them until he tilts his jaw up to kiss her. melting into it, y/n moved her hands from where they’d cupped his face to where she can loosely loop her arms around his neck and over his shoulder, her wrists crossed and hands hanging limply in only the way they’d ever be around him. 

“i love you,” he whispers into her mouth, and she bites at his bottom lip before returning the phrase. his hands begin to wander, stopping to toy at the ties of her loincloth on her hips, and she lifts them so he can remove it easier so they can begin. tonowari’s own loincloth has mysteriously been discarded already as y/n sinks back down to sit on his thick thighs, and she laughs happily into the crook of his neck. “what’s so funny?”

“your eagerness for tonight has shown itself endlessly to me,” y/n admits, shifting to press his cock ( long since hardened ) against her slit, and he laughs as well. 

“how could i not be eager for you?” he asks fondly, running his thumb over the soft skin of her hip. “my family is soon to grow by the grace of the great mother and by you, loving me.”

“who says i love you?” y/n retorts affectionately, already reaching for his braid as he does the same for hers with a snort. 

“you yourself, not more than two minutes ago,” he breathes as they hold their queues up to one another. they’re both just out of reach of the other, the silky pink strands reaching for the other in a silent insistence that only furthered their thoughts of this being what was intended. 

tonowari glances up at y/n and takes in they way she eyes the beginnings of their bond with wonder, then looks back down as she begins to move her wrist ever so slightly. one strand of her queue links with his, and their pupils blow together and tonowari’s one-handed grip on her hip tightens enough to bruise  as the bond begins to form. endless emotions and feelings fly through the bond, y/n sinking down on his cock and making them both gasp at the sudden feelings coursing through them. it wasn’t their first time fucking, nor was it their first time getting sexual, but goddess above was this different than every other time they’d shared. 

lifting herself up, y/n relishes the slide inside as his cock slowly leaves her body before she drops back down, filling herself up with him again. she lets go of her braid on favor of wrapping her arms around him, uncharacteristically vulnerable, as he does the same. “close, i want you close,” she whimpers, and he purrs against her throat. 

“we cannot get any closer than we are now, my love,” he breathes. “great goddess above, thank you — thank you, y/n, for this.”

“yes — yes, yes, yes… f-fuck,” y/n whimpers, and tonowari groans and begins to meet the drop of her hips with thrusts of her own. 

“s-so good, my love, so good for me, just like that…” he moans, pressing his face into her chest and furrowing his brow as the pleasure rolls over him like tides on the shore. she’s warm, and she’s soft, and he can’t get enough. 

they fuck until they both are exhausted, then curl up beneath the trees with one of her legs hiked up and thrown over him, his seed dripping from her swollen cunt in a steady stream. her head rests on his chest as one of his hands toys with her braids, and neither can control the smiles on their faces as they rest there together. this time after was for them, to bask in the glow that followed tsaheylu, and to relish the feelings that came with it. both are lulled into a serene sleep, aided by the rolling waves and the wind in the trees and the warmth of the other’s body. 

explanations — to the clan and to the sullys — could come with the rise of the sun. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[crazylittlejester]

Hio Hio!!! Hope you’ve been well!! ^-^

I love thinking about “Wars isn’t canon” aus, but instead of him never existing at all, he DID exist as a hero and even met the chain but one day disappears because oops! He got retconned! And I love thinking of the chain ending up back in his Hyrule and finding him as a whole other person, either a tailor or a baker-

My personal favourite is them finding him as a bard in a tavern, playing an adjusted version of Piano Man, and realizing that the ppl Wars surrounds himself with are actually very similar to them. And while they’re sad to lose him as a fellow hero, they’re happy to see that he’s happy and has a new family that looks out for him :)

It’s just a silly little thing but I cradle it close to my heart and love imagining it whenever I listen to Piano Man

I SHOULD NOT HAVE LAUGHED BUT PIANO MAN TOOK ME THE FUCK OUT THATS INCREDIBLE, IM OBSESSED WITH THIS OH MY GOD /pos

I love the idea that everyone but the chain forgets him, like their memories of him are the only indication the ‘Hero of Warriors’ existed at all because the timeline got messed up and rewritten, but Wars the PERSON didn’t get erased, he’d just living the life he WOULD have had he not been pulled into the war and for some reason has faint memories of a different life

oh- oh god damn it i have to do a writing exercise about this now dont i…

well now i know what I’m doing tonight

[firendgold]

Dumbledore for the unhinged character bingo?

but of course!

whew boy, no bingos but this was a lot.

guess we'll go left to right row by row?

Daddy Issues: um, yeah. It might be glossed over in canon and fanon, but it seems pretty clear that Albus has at least some. Percival Dumbledore was taken from him early, after a moment where he lost control and inflicted violence on those who were both crueler and weaker than him, all in the name of protecting his family. That probably left very deep impressions on the young Albus' psyche: both I can't let myself be locked away like he was, my family needs me and doing the right thing means suffering.

Adult!Albus takes many risks and makes many choices that lead to unhappiness twined with safety, and I think it all comes back to his parents and his home life. We also don't ever see him with a mentor: we know he "worked with" Nicolas Flamel but we don't have a clear idea of how close they were, how long they worked together or anything like that. Like many men in the HP series, he's probably another one who searches in vain for a father figure to replace his original one.

*Incoherent sobbing*: me every day since I finished Half-Blood Prince as a kid, honestly. I'm still not over it. Deathly Hallows was the second of the one-two punches. And then more Dumbledore and Dumbledore family meta is coming out all the time, digging into just how lonely Albus must have been for years and years. Think about how the people he let himself love toward the end of his life all either died or nearly died. Think about how major themes of Albus' life story are trust and love and betrayal. You'll start crying too.

Angst Angst ANGST: So, Albus never gets to be a child past the age of about ten. His parents' combined choices mean that he has to spend all his school years lying to most of his acquaintances about the most intimate parts of his home life and his sister. He also learns a lot of direct and indirect fucked up lessons that stick with him until he's at least seventeen. His brother resents him. His father dies in jail with people cursing his name. His mother is killed by his sister as he graduates school. Then, at seventeen-almost-eighteen, Albus falls in love!... with a budding fascist and future genocidal murderer. They plot to Take Over the World, but in a nice way maybe?

And then The Big Fight happens, Ariana dies too, Aberforth becomes estranged from him, Grindelwald leaves and his whole worldview gets upended. Rather than take some time to go to therapy, Albus spends the rest of his life overachieving to make up for what he did, never allowing himself the weakness of personal attachments... that is, until he finds himself having budding fatherly feelings for Harry. But since he didn't do any of that therapy stuff, he fucks up at a critical moment and chooses his long-dead family over said potential-son by putting on an old ugly ring, and then he dies to try and save the wizarding world with a convoluted plan that worked by miracle's light. The end.

God fucking damn it let them be happy: This is directed more at the fandom than it is at That Woman. Can y'all please write something nice about Albus and Harry for once instead of the same mustache-twirling manipulative fascist-fucking greater good garbage? I'm so sick of it lol.

I want to cradle them gently in my arms: I mean... Albus would not let me. He's almost allergic to intimacy. But if he would...

Go to FUCKING therapy: ...self-explanatory in my other answers. I am firm in my belief that if Albus had just gone to fucking therapy he would be alive today, searching google for funny Muggle cat videos and sending them to his hot old French boyfriend. And he and Harry would meet up for tea and biscuits every week because they would have long since sorted out all their issues and moved on to just loving each other. *sniff*

WHY Are They Like This: tru. I mean... I have a general idea of Why Albus Is The Way He Is, but it doesn't mean I don't still ask this question often. The fact that we got a whole movie called The Secrets of Dumbledore but we didn't learn any of Albus' important fucking secrets kind of supports my unhinged obsessed researching though.

I'm SO normal about them: ...*nervous laughter*

I would take a bullet for them: ...or, you know, I would if he wasn't dead already. But if we're talking about all the incorrect and unnecessary shots he takes from the fandom, then absolutely this applies.

LEAVE. THEM. ALONE!: seriously, fandom, holy shit. Don't y'all want to attack some people who have slid past morally gray territory and into "actual irredeemable monster" territory once in a while? You know, like some of those green-robed fellows you lust after?

Mommy Issues: oh, broooo. if Albus has daddy issues then he for sure has mommy issues too. Kendra Dumbledore shaped the majority of his life by virtue of being the only parent around in his formative years. All the things she taught him keep cropping up in his mannerisms and decisions even a hundred years later. Secrets, misdirection, hiding people and things and ideas away... draw a line back to his mum and you've solved half the puzzle.

Hey do you want to hear a ten hour speech about this character: because I don't like going outside, it would be more of a "five hour tumblr post" that's a billion paragraphs, but yeah. I can almost always find something new to talk about with Albus. ^^

And that's everything! Thanks and sorry it took me so long!

[hausofmamadas]

| Chasing ghosts and choices |

⁂

Pairing: David Barrón x Enedina Arellano Félix x Claudio Vásquez

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober Fanworks collection - Day 13

Prompt: Day of Life - create a fanwork in which a character avoids their canonical death.

Word count: ≈ 1.7K

TWs: Canon-consistent violence, angst in only the way my boi does I mean just look at that face in the first gif, he’s so not a happy camperksjeb

They’d known each other too long, loved each other too much, and hurt each other too intimately and too many times to pretend they were better than exactly who they were. Okay on my life, I did not mean to do the same exact setup as @drabbles-mc fic for today. I just like am super back in my Barrón feels in a BIG fuckin way rn thanks to Bobby Soto ruining my life in A Million Miles Away skdjflsk but like weirdly and accidentally, this could be kind of a sequel to Adamant skjsldkj imsorryforeverything anyway enjoy Barrón lowkey kicking himself for saving Claudio and also being like, "aight, fine. It was the right call" bc he would never do his lady love so dirty as to purposely let her new husband die SKSKS

⁂

At the sliding glass doors of the Arellanos’ place, Barrón stood, watching the predawn fog diffuse over houses on the streets below, making itself at home in the cracks of alleyways, like the city of Tijuana was an abandoned crypt, the casitas, its tombstones, and struggled to remember the last time he’d saved someone.

Being a sicario, he didn’t have much occasion to save people. Or at least, not without tipping the scales in death’s favor in the process. And yet, reminded in a flash of memory—some fake cop’s hat flying in the air when one of his bullets sinks in the guy’s forehead and drops him almost comically like his body’d turned to lead—in this case, he’d delivered plenty to death’s door. He was nothing if not a professional, right.

Maybe it was who he’d saved that made this feel more significant than past jobs. Less delivering to death’s door, more delivering life, delivering a future with one she loved, back to her. That felt as big. Bigger even. Particularly when it ensured his own future would be the same as it ever was. Chasing ghosts and loving in silence. Playing not the fool, but a tool. A weapon. Incredibly useful if only for a precious few tasks. And in the end, who could really blame them when he was so good at it? That’s right. Nothing if not a professional.

With any luck that’d be his ticket out though, what with Mín going off the grid until things cooled down and the family figured out the next moves to make. Hopefully, he’d have a new post to look forward to, a change of scenery. If not the places then the people. Or some of them.

Because no doubt there’d be some kind of political fallout, Claudio being a district attorney and all. He was affable enough to massage it over with the public but his own family was another matter. They were probably furious, already skeptical about the match from the get. So, the Arellanos would have to measure their response carefully. And that’s just what it would have to be: a response, not a retaliation. The inconvenience of legitimacy now rearing its ugly head with such urgency, Barrón didn’t even have the fight left in him to manage a glib, ya te lo dije.

He wondered idly if maybe that was part of Chapo’s plan or just an unhappy accident, forcing the Arellanos in the public eye at such a precarious time. Not yet legitimate enough to be installed in the untouchable chilango upper class where they could retaliate with impunity, but still beholden to the higher standards of a “real” business in the eyes of the people.

As of now, it all seemed like just the most fucked game of Cat’s Cradle. Too much for a pocho from Logan Heights to untangle. It wasn’t even that strategy wasn’t his strong suit, it was more political machinations like these never much held his interest. Maybe the attempt on Claudio’s life would be enough to draw Dina back in. Give her back what she gave up. That was how Barrón had known it was real with them to begin with. She stepped back. No longer lived and breathed for the thrill of realizing the potential of the family business like she’d envisioned. Envisioned since she was a kid, a fact she’d revealed in one of their little warehouse chats when he first got there. Years ago. Back when they were– ah, fuck it. He’d chase that ghost later.

The funny thing was she did that all giving up and stepping back in a bid to keep things separate, shield Claudio from the less savory aspects of things. A bullet to the shoulder is about as good as that plan went.

Maybe this would be Dina’s time. The prospect filled him with pride. Hope. It’d be a thrill to see if it didn’t hurt so bad. And truthfully, given the choice, Barrón would rather fight back boredom-induced sleep, watching little Ruthie play with Lincoln logs in a safe house somewhere, than sit around here watching the future that he’d sacrificed his own for blossom before his very eyes. He did what he did but he didn’t have to like it.

He fished for a porro he’d rolled earlier from his pocket and removed the few stray, leafy bits of weed that had escaped out one end, before popping it between his lips and lighting up. He usually didn’t smoke in the house but considering he still hadn’t changed his shirt stained with Claudio’s blood, setting into the fibers more and more with each passing second, courtesy of a bullet that sailed clean through the guy’s shoulder, he figured he’d earned a pass from his employers. That wasn’t even the best excuse he had. Just the simplest one. What a weird fucking night.

And fuck, he was tired. The noise of the drawers of the credenza opening and closing behind him wasn’t enough to make him turn around. Shit, he might stand here forever. Five hundred years from now, they’d find him, all petrified wood, in this exact spot still staring out the window. Exhausted. Since before he could remember, exhausted.

Her voice broke the reverie and he tried not to resent it too much. He failed.

“David.”

Ugh, they’d talked about this. No first name. He hated it when she called him by his first name. Too close. A flash of red out of the corner of his eye took full shape as Dina joined him at the window, in her red silk robe, arms crossed, hair wild and free like she was the first woman.

A few tendrils of smoke curled out of Barrón’s nostrils and glided down his chin, moving lazy and listless as he felt. The question hung in his throat, thick with smoke, “How is he.”

Dina dropped her shoulders like she’d been holding her breath. “The doctor says he might lose function in his thumb and forefinger on that side, but otherwise,” she exhaled deeply, clenching her jaw to fight back tears of relief, “it looks like Claudio is going to be fine.”

“Heh,” Barrón nodded, half coughing, half chuckling, “I meant Pancho. But uh, no that’s good.” It was sincere and the most he could manage. Frankly, he was impressed he managed that much.

Head dipping forward, her shoulders shaking gently, she laughed self-consciously down at the floor. “Mi brujo, tu compa, sí se pondrá bien. Ese gatito tiene un chinga más de nueve vidas. No te preocupes.”

At that, he smirked and nodded with more heart this time.

They didn’t say anything else to each other for a while. Just stood there watching the purples of the sky brighten, the marine layer fog cooked orange by the rising sun. Down to a sliver of his joint, Barrón sighed, wishing he’d rolled another one, and cracked the sliding door to flick the butt outside. He closed it and stepped back inside to reassume his place as petrified wood but before he got both his hands in his pockets, Dina caught his wrist and slid her hand down into his. It was so stealthy and quick, Houdini’d be proud. He couldn’t place his finger on why, but it filled him with relief that she hadn’t looked at him. Merely held his hand firmly and continued staring out the window, one arm still held tightly across her chest. Yeah, that was easier.

“David. No sé como agradecerte, pero lo que has hecho por Claudio, la familia,” her voice dropped low as if she knew it should be left unsaid, “por mi,” all the while squeezing his hand. “Nunca lo olvidaré.”

He ran his thumb along her palm to let her know he was there, then hummed softly, “Pues, qué otra opción tenía?”

Echoes of the panic he’d felt when he rounded the corner, seeing Claudio crouched in a shower of broken glass, bullet exploding through his shoulder, blood dark red on his crisp blue shirt, hit Barrón like a grenade. What could’ve happened. What almost happened. If he’d gotten there just a second or two later … they both knew.

A dark and inconvenient truth of operating in a world as wild, wild west as theirs made it impossible not to consider. His job, his very nature, made it impossible to ignore: just exactly how easy it would’ve been for him to drag his feet a bit, move just a little slower, lag behind ever so slightly. That one bullet to the shoulder, turns into two in the chest, then three, then four– until. And how easy it would’ve been to play it off like a whoops, unfortunate happenstance, he’d done his best, just couldn’t make it in time, a tragedy.

The fucked thing too was ... for a fraction of a second?

He had thought about it.

He was pretty sure she knew that too or at least considered the possibility. They’d known each other too long, loved each other too much, and hurt each other too intimately and too many times to pretend they were better than exactly who they were. But that’s not how things went. Not the choice he made.

Instead, Barrón whipped around that corner, hammering Chapo and Arturo’s position so relentlessly, the gun felt almost an extension of his own arm – bullet hoses, right – while Claudio was slumped under the bar, clutching his shoulder. Instead, when their path was clear, Barrón yanked Claudio up to his feet by his good arm and offered a shoulder for him to clumsily toss the bad one over. Instead, Claudio bled all over his shirt, as he dragged them both up the steps, down the hallway, into the back kitchen where the Arellanos were waiting, and shot out the windows so they could all make their escape. Instead, he dragged Claudio, once again, to the getaway car and sat him next to his poor Panchito. Best to keep the mess in one place. No use getting blood all over the seats of two different cars.

Some would call it a choice. Then again, with her the foremost thought on his mind, the instant that first bullet ejected from the barrel of his gun into the face of a phony cop, did he really have one to begin with?

═

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

[gotinterest]

EDITED 11/27/2023 TO ACCOUNT FOR MORE WATCHED SEASONS AND FURTHER INSIGHTS FROM REWATCHING. Current list of Kamen Rider Seasons I've either completed or mostly completed in order of how homoerotic I think they are:

Ryuki- It pains me to put Ryuki up this high because of this but two characters have honest to god real canonical evil gay sex in the Rider Time special and that's about as homoerotic as you can get despite how homophobic the scene feels (Tezuka deserved better). But even excluding the gay sex, Ryuki is still pretty homoerotic. Kitaoka and Goro's relationship reads extremely gay to the point where listing specific examples would feel like understating things when you could really just vaguely gesture to literally every interaction they have in the whole show. Tezuka is also lightly gay coded in his backstory. Ren can have a little yaoi break as a treat. Asakura is there (that's homoerotic enough).

OOO- Homoerotic to the point of being a couple sentences away from being canon. Both Ankh/Eiji and Date/Gotou are pretty homoerotic. The actors have really good chemistry with each other and made Some Decisions. There is a moment where Eiji is asked to think about his desire and it hard cuts to a shot of Ankh. Ankh and Eiji have a combined form that is literally rainbow themed in the movie.

Kuuga- Kuuga has gotten bumped up from my last ranking because I read the anniversary novel written from the perspective of Ichijo (by the lead writer of the show) which pretty much solidified my view that Ichijo was intentionally gay coded. They literally have another character bring up that he has gay rumors IN UNIVERSE and he spends the entire novel pining after Godai. This is on top of the homoeroticism in the series itself, such as sleeping on Godai's shoulder, cradling Godai in his arms, all the girlfriend comments, his unwavering loyalty to Godai, etc, etc.

Blade- Blade's reputation for homoeroticism is well earned. However, this is a show where the homoeroticism sneaks up on you. It's not terribly gay until it very much is (which happens well into the show). By the end of the show, Kenzaki and Hajime come across as star-crossed lovers. Their actors seem to agree with that assessment and commissioned couples rings themed around the two characters. Subsequent released story (such as the audio drama and the Zi-O special) further support a gay reading of their relationship.

Faiz/Build-On Build's end, Banjou is literally subjected to explicit homophobia like a couple episodes after a scene where they have a gag of Banjou wondering if Sento is asking him out. The tag line for the show is "A Heated Drama Between Men" which is uhhh. Banjou and Sento also get a gay little combined form. On Faiz's end, the homoeroticism feels very tied into the themes of societal exclusion and social isolation. Kiba and Takumi are "different" and they can sense that within each other, growing closer as they continue to remain closed off from one another about what is truly "different" about the two of them. Kiba indicates to Mari that he is in love with someone, but it is ambiguous as to who he is talking about. Their relationship with each other is continuously criticized by Kusaka in a tone and using language that calls to mind homophobic bigotry. Furthermore, for the ladies, there are moments of homoeroticism between Mari and Yuka where the two girls connect and you can briefly see a better version of the show where their relationship is focused on more instead of the love quadrangle bullshit that Inoue put in there. All this being said, there is no happy ending for homosexuality in this show and watching it will give you an everlasting grudge against Inoue.

Kabuto- Kabuto's homoeroticism is a bit more understated, but it does have just enough in there. Kagami and Tendou have a few moments together and then there is whatever the fuck is going on between those two hopper losers. I am docking Kabuto a few points because Daisuke is there and he is so heterosexual in the worst way possible that it cancels out some of the homoeroticism.

Agito- Haven't finished this one so my ranking may change. Not very homoerotic but there are certainly some moments in there. I wonder if the writers realized that part of the appeal of Ichijou from Kuuga was his homoerotic devotion to Godai, and decided to gradually make Hikawa more homoerotically devoted to Agito as the show progressed.

W- Double is not very homoerotic. If you see someone praising its homoeroticism chances are they are shipping a grown man with a literal 16 yr old. We do not interact with these people. There is some homoeroticism earlier on in the show between Shoutaro and Kirihiko but that's a relatively small part of the show. The focus is more on family bonds and brotherhood as part of its exploration into the theme of familial abuse (and escaping from familial abuse).

Den-O (THE SHOW)- I haven't finished Den-O so I haven't watched any of the movies besides the OOO crossover. So I am not taking Teddy and Kotaro into consideration here. You'd think that a show with this many male characters trapped on a train together would be more homoerotic, but it really isn't. You get more of a family vibe between these characters. Fortunately, Den-O does not need homoeroticism because Momotaros is there.

[missflufffanfics]

My take on Huntlow in FTF

I feel like with all the Huntlow scenes we got it’s clear that they both know something is different between them, Willow might have a better idea of it bc before all of this she had a ‘normal’ childhood. I don’t think they’re dating or canon in that way, but I think they both know something’s there but they will probably want to wait until everything’s back to normal before going there. Until then, I think we’ll get cute stuff like we saw in this episode but nothing explicitly canon, then at the end of the finale we’ll get some scene of them and everyone else happy and then they’ll kiss or something explicitly canon-so yeah that’s my take

don’t get me wrong though, I LOVED the scenes we got, any time hunter voice cracks yk it’s gonna be a good scene lmao and I got everything I wanted in that Willow arc and THE BRIDAL CARRY AND HAND HOLDING AND BLUSHING AND HEAD CRADLING AND HOLY FUCK-

anyway I hope Gus gets more of a storyline in the finale lol

[k1nky-fool]

HEY! I would like to request a "When they hold your face in their hands and just look into your eyes and just hold the other softly" with Mita and Vander, please. You know I adore those two. I'll request some others later!

I know this took a hot minute, but I promise it's because I actually really wanted to put this scene in a fic, but obviously the time setting is far after Least Sane Moments, and during Fuck Around and Find Out, so there wasn't actually a place to put it. And my Devil of the Crossroads sequel doesn't have a spot for a Mita POV flashback because it's exclusively Pepper's and Sketch's POV.

So this one was a long time coming, and I might do a couple of oneshots with Mita and Vander between the ending of Least Sane Moments and canon Arcane Act I.So please enjoy!

"You've been quiet, Mita." Benzo pointed out. "I figured if anybody had a bone to pick, it'd be you." 

-Vander-

He could tell something was wrong. Which wasn't any surprise with everything going on. Mita stayed in her booth as the crowd cleared out. She glared at Sevika's back after that threat, but she was smart enough not to let her anger get the better of her. 

"I'm not stupid. Hitting them now would be war." Mita said. "But I think we should have struck back the second they came looking for our children at their home." 

"Either way it'd be war." Vander argued. 

"It's self defense if they come to our home, Vander. But you're right, a counter attack is the worst thing we can do right now." He was at least happy they were on the same page. "Besides, we've got worse things to worry about than enforcers." 

"I haven't been able to find anything on Silco. If he's making a move, he's covering his tracks." Benzo reports. 

"Then we'll have to revisit our strategy." Vander decides. "Benzo, I'll need to pawn off some of the gruntwork to you. Running the ship is gonna get harder."

Benzo gave a respectful nod as Vander turned to Mita. 

"And I'll leave investigating Silco to the big guns." He explained. "Mita, you're our last hope." 

Mita stood, shooting a look at Benzo that told him to get lost for a bit. If there was anything that he didn't want to learn the hard way, it was finding out what happens if he starts arguing with Mita. Vander however, had to admit he wasn't ready for whatever she was about to say. Least of all when she said nothing. 

Gentle hands cradled his face as she touched her forehead to his. Vander wrapped his arms around her, knowing there was something fighting in her mind and she didn't have words for it. "You're scaring me a little, love." 

"Vander, I've never been more scared in my life than right now." 

His hold tightened. "What are you scared of?" 

"You know this can only go wrong. They want a prisoner, and that means it's gotta be me, you, or Benzo." 

"Benzo needs to be here, and I'm not letting you take the fall for this." 

"And I'm not letting them take you." Mita pulls back to scan his face. "If they put you in cuffs, they'll wish I just started a war after what I do to them." 

"What are you saying, Mita?" Vander finally asked. 

"If you can't get them out of here without a prisoner, let me take the fall for it." She offered. 

"Mita that's-"

"I'm not saying I'm giving up. We can find another way, but if all else fails… I can take the conviction and escape from the station before they ever get me on a boat." 

It was an easy way out at first glance, but risking Mita was not something he was willing to do. A lot could go wrong and he'd likely never see her again if the enforcers knew how good she was. "I'm sorry, Mita. That's not an option." 

"Until it's the only option left." She pointed out. "Just- you do what you have to in order to keep this family safe, and I'll do the same." 

"You're part of this family too." Vander disagreed. "I can't lose you." 

"And I won't lose you." She stood her ground. "I fought too hard to get here to just let you slip through my fingers, Vander." 

"Nobody's getting arrested." Vander assured. 

"Then I trust you." Mita said and pulled away to start on her task of chasing a ghost.

[geeky-politics-46]

You Belong To Me - Part 4

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Part 1, Part 2, & Part 3 of "You Belong To Me"

Pairing: Sinister Stephen Strange x Reader, Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Sinister makes sure you feel at home in your new universe in very intimate ways & Stephen learns an important revelation as the others make a plan to rescue you.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - fingering, dubious consent, deception, manipulation, breeding kink, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, lactation kink, cum play, jealousy, language, toxic relationship, kinda cheating?, lying, mention of potential pregnancy complications (mild), canon level violence.

In case you didn't hear, there will now be 5 parts to this story so this ends on a cliffhanger! Thanks to a very long filthy opening section. Corrections will be made as I find them.

You stood in one of the arches of the crumbling Sanctum staring out the window across the room. You walked over & ran your hand down the pane of glass. Somehow it wasn't broken. Or perhaps he had fixed it. He had been trying to fix various bits of the Sanctum since you arrived. Making the place more habitable. Warmer & safer for you & the babies when they came. 

He didn't want you to leave the Sanctum, even with him there. At least not for now. The risks of someone coming, trying to take you back to your universe, was too great & he couldn't protect you outside the Sanctum walls. Not that there was much to do in this universe. There were no other people, besides you & Stephen, & many of the buildings & surroundings were in a half destroyed state.

The weather was the same as it always was in this universe. Dreary. You didn't miss the sunlight or oppressive heat, you did miss the rain though & storms. You missed people watching too. The silence was somewhat refreshing. You didn't miss the horns & the construction at all, nor the sounds of people. You did miss the birds. 

You felt his arms slide around your waist before coming to rest on your pregnant belly & a series of soft kisses landed down your neck before his chin came to rest on your shoulder. It still felt a little different. You had convinced him to trim the goatee a little. Even he admitted it felt better, although according to him having you there he felt like a brand new man altogether. 

He felt... happy. For the first time in years. He couldn't even remember how long. He hated seeing you long for things that you could no longer have though. Things you had left behind for him. He swore he would figure out a way to give you that world back or to fix this one for you. 

"I'm sorry this poor excuse of a world is what I can provide for you my love. I promise I have a plan to give you more. To create the most perfect paradise for us. One where we will be safe for eternity. It will take a little time though. In the meantime I can't say that I don't love having you all to myself else every moment of every day."

"I'm also sorry that now, because of him," the last word coming out as a growl, "I couldn't wait until after the babies were born to bring you here."

You reached up to cradle his face in one hand & put your other hand over his on your belly. For a guy who seemed to strike so much fear into Wanda, Wong, & the other Stephen this man seemed like a teddy bear to you in these moments when he was vulnerable. Like a little lost puppy who had been shown love & compassion for the first time. You turned your face into his & nuzzled your nose into his cheek before placing a few kisses there.

"I love you my darling. All that matters is you are here with me & that our babies are safe. I know you will protect us. We don't need frills & material things as long as we have our little family. I would rather burn that world to the ground than be back there with him, with her. After what they did. Perhaps we can do that together? A little date night before the babies arrive. Besides, I think you like being able to fuck me on any surface of this place at any hour as many times as you want without interruption. Why would you want to go changing that?" 

You started to sway your hips side to side softly rubbing against his groin. He could feel your lips curl into a mischievous smile. Part of what had attracted him to you in the first place was your wicked side. The other Stephen hadn't even realized your devilish potential, both in & out of bed, but he had. All it took was a little corrupting influence & you became quite a little hellcat. His little hellcat, his naughty kitten.

"Sounds like you might like that part of this universe too. My naughty little kitten likes being able to get fucked anywhere at any time. Especially since you are trying to get me hard rubbing against me like that. All you have to do is ask & I will happily make my pretty life wife scream in pleasure. Does my kitten want to play? Hmm? Does mommy want daddy to make her feel good?" 

His voice now getting gravely as held your belly a little firmer & pressed his hips forward into yours. The 2 of you had been practically insatiable for each other since you arrived here. You knew it was partly pregnancy hormones, but it was partly because of how special he made you feel. His devotion to you, to pleasuring you, was almost overwhelming but fuck if it didn't make you feel incredible. 

You knew he had a dark side. In the back of your mind a small voice told you that you should be afraid of him. That you should be afraid of this place. That he had probably used some unsavory methods to lure you to him like a cat to catnip. In these moments though, when he made your skin feel electric & your brain short-circuit, you really couldn't give a flying fuck. You wanted to ask him, to confront him about what tricks he pulled, but the second his lips or tongue were on your skin you got amnesia & it all felt fine again.

You hummed in agreement as you felt him starting to gather the bottom half of your dress up in his hands. The soft fabric tickled as it slid up your legs, stopping just as it crested above your knees. You knew was waiting for you to answer him. He loved hearing you beg for him to do naughty things to you, loved hearing how much you wanted & needed him.

"Yes please, daddy. Make me feel good. Show me you own me Stephen. That I'm your good little wife. Wanna make you feel good too. Use my little pussy baby. Wherever you want. Whenever you want."

"That's my good girl." He purred his praise in your ear as he finished pulling your dress up to your waist. You ass & pussy now bare to since you saw no reason to wear underwear anymore. They just slowed you down & got in the way, whether you two were getting frisky, or one of the babies decided your bladder was a trampoline. 

He started licking behind your ear before placing small kisses on the shell of it. You could hear & feel as his breathing sped up. You tilted your head to the side to grant him better access. He bit your earlobe in approval before sucking on it. Once more he ran his nimble tongue up the outer edge of your entire ear. Following every curve & divet, making a show of following your anatomy. He placed several small kisses from your temple to the tragus of your ear. Barely pulling his lips away from your flesh he whispered directly into your ear, giving you goosebumps.

"I think I should fuck you right here against this window, don't you? Not that there is anyone to watch, but imagine if there were. Imagine if they could see me fucking my pretty perfect wife. See how beautiful you look writhing on my cock. Imagine how jealous they would be. Knowing that I'm the one who put those babies in you. That I'm the only one who gets to fill you all full of my cum".

One hand rubbing circles on your pregnant belly & the other moving down to dip between your legs. Moaning against your neck when he ran his long fingers over your slit, feeling how wet & warm you were, before coming back up to tease your clit. 

Your mouth falling open & you gasped at the feeling of his delicate light touch in contrast to his harsh nipping & sucking at your neck. The hand you had on his cheek now gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling harder when he found the particular spot on your clit he knew you loved. Your other hand grabbing at your top to pull it down & expose your engorged breasts before starting to tug lightly at one nipple then the other. 

"Of course if they were to see you like that, I'd have to pluck their eyes clean from their skulls. Only I get to see my sweet wife being a dirty little slut. Isn't that right kitten? Let me hear you purr, just for me." 

He suddenly brought his hands up to the top of your dress & ripped the fabric down the middle. It took several tugs to tear all the way through the dress but he did it fairly effortlessly. You let the fabric fall from your body & turned to face him. Sliding your hands up the lapels of his robes letting his eyes rove up & down your body.

You shook your head and tutted at him, teasing him a little as you let your hands trail down to rub at the bulge growing in his robes. You kissed him lightly as you slid your hand into his pants & started stroking his cock. Quite literally purring when you felt his warm member throb under your welcome touch.

"So possessive Stephen. You should let them watch. Let them see how much I want you & only you. You know only you can satisfy me, & fill me. Only you can do this to me." 

You brought one of his hands back & placed it on your bump. Smiling as you gazed at him. The flash of a sweet smirk & pure love showing through that briefly reminded you of the other Stephen. Your heart still aching at the thought of him cheating on you with Christine. To clear the thought from your head you gripped the base of his cock tighter making him growl & the sweetness in his eyes turn back to lust. He could immediately tell where your mind had gone at the change in your touch.

"Don't think about him, my love. Just let me fuck him out of your mind. If he even dares to think about darkening our doorstep I will make him regret the day he even breathed in her direction. No one could ever compare to you. Come let me sit you up on the piano & devour that beautiful pussy. Let me make my wife, my beautiful queen & the mother of my babies, cum all over my face. Let me worship you kitten."

You moaned against his mouth as you slid your hand out of his pants & up around his neck. Letting him lead you backwards toward the grand piano before lifting you up & setting you on the very edge. You leaned back slightly & braced yourself with your hands as you watched him pull back the bench. He had left your legs hanging down over the keys so he could sit on the bench as if he was going to play a brilliant concerto. In his mind he essentially was, only he was playing it on your body not the piano. 

He flipped the bottom of his robes out of the way with an extra flourish as he eyed you. He slid his palms up your shins & put your feet to his chest, admiring every inch of flesh he touched. As his hands hit the tops of your knees you let your index finger trail over the black & purple wedding band that matched the one you wore. Sighing softly at the thought that the man about to take you apart was your husband. You looked in his eyes & mouthed a quiet "I love you Stephen."

He kissed one kneecap & then the other whispering "I love you too. My beautiful wife". He was still in somewhat disbelief that his plan to make you his had worked out so well. Sure he had to fool you into thinking that the other version of him cheated on you, hurting you in the process, but here you were. You loved him too. You really loved him. You had said it yourself, & you didn't just love 'Stephen Strange'. You loved him, & he worshiped the ground you walked on. 

His rough palms moved to slide down the inside of your legs displaying your glistening pussy for him. He placed the arches of your feet over his broad shoulders so you were spread wide for him.  He couldn't refrain from licking his lips at the sight of you. You were his favorite treat. 

He ran his hands up toward your core as he started placing open mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. Slowly bringing his face closer to your cunt. Taking the time to feel each time the muscles in your legs involuntarily contracted at his touch.

Once his long fingers had settled at the crease of your hips so he could gently massage your pubic mound, he used his thumbs to stroke your flushed pussy lips up & down. Feeling your wetness continue to grow & leak from you  as he toyed with you. He groaned to himself when he stopped to pull your lips apart & open your warm pink walls to him further. 

Watching as you hole clenched at the feel of his breath on you. Your hips starting to rock back & forth as you began  to whine for more contact. He was a little conflicted at the sound of your pleas. On one hand he wanted to tease you more, & hear all the little needy sounds you would make for him. On the other hand, his cock was already so hard it was painful & he needed to taste you before he fucked you.

"Stephen, please. I need you."

With that request he flattened his tongue & licked the entirety of your pussy. From your entrance to your clit. He made sure to get as much of you with that first lick as he possibly could without looking away from your eyes. A wanton ragged moan was pulled from your chest as he punctuated that first lick with a small suck of your clit. Smiling devilishly as he pulled his mouth away. 

He stayed close enough to place light licks & gentle kisses at random on your pussy. Making sure to surprise you by occasionally swirling his tongue over your clit. Each time making you jump & whimper in pleasure.

"Is this what you want, kitten? My mouth on your pussy? She tastes so good. So sweet." 

He moaned as he took another wide long lick up your pussy before you could say anything to answer. Not that you could form words anyway. He was so very good at leaving you speechless when he did the most sinful things to your body.

He licked at you over & over leaving as much saliva on you as he could before he began sucking at your clit. Pulling his mouth away then sucking you back in. The small wet sucking pops his mouth made almost echoing off the walls & vaulted ceiling. 

"What about my fingers darling? Should I stretch your tight little hole open on them? Would you like that?" 

His index finger was already busy stroking the very bottom of your entrance. Again he wasn't planning on waiting for a response. He slid it inside you before quickly adding another to his assault. Once he could hear the wet squelching of his fingers thrusting into your cunt over the sound of his mouth on you he turned his palm upward & added a third finger. Making sure to crook them at the angle he knew would make you cum the hardest. 

By now your legs were no longer sitting on his shoulders, but held in the air as wide as you could manage while still supporting yourself with one arm. It wasn't the most comfortable position but it had him hitting all the right spots & giving him as much access to your tender cunt as possible. A huge mirror that was hung on the wall across the room capturing the debauched image of the two of you. 

As the fire in your belly started to build you grabbed his hair with both hands. You could feel his smile as he moved one arm around your waist to keep you from falling off the piano into his lap. He let you grind his face against your pussy however you wanted. His mouth moved with even more fervor the harder you pulled at his hair. He loved letting you use his mouth like this as he fingerfucked you. 

He loved letting you use him for your pleasure, so he let you set the pace. He matched the speed of his fingers to the speed you set for his mouth. Quickly letting the ball of energy build in the pit of your stomach right up to the point of boiling over. Right as he felt you about to spiral into orgasm he began shaking his head back & forth as he worked his mouth over every part of you he could reach. Sending a vibration rattling through you & pulling the last string needed to unravel you.

You came with a guttural groan that echoed through the whole Sanctum. Bucking hard against his face as he held onto you. Continuing to lick & at suck at you as you slowly came down from your high. He made sure not to waste a drop of your nectar, drinking you in like a man deprived of water. 

Once your movements had settled into shudders & whimpers he began kissing up your body as he started stripping himself of his robes. The sight of him disrobing renewing your hunger for him. 

When he reached your breasts he pulled back & began to study your chest. At some point during his play with you, your breasts had started to leak. It was far enough in your pregnancy you were starting to produce milk & the oxytocin release from your orgasm must have triggered a milk let-down.

He was hypnotized as he watched the liquid slowly trickling from your nipples. A lust heavy moan tore from him at the sight. Stopping his movements just shy of pushing down his pants. His throbbing cock had to wait a moment longer so he could enjoy your body, & it's new reflex, just a little bit more.

"Oh kitten, look at that. Look at your pretty little nipples starting to leak milk. Just when I thought you couldn't make me crave you more. Such a good mommy already." 

He slid his hands up your ribcage to the outer edges of your swollen engorged breasts. Glancing up at you to make sure you weren't too sensitive as he squeezed your breasts together & ran the pads of his thumbs over both nipples. It stimulated a few more drops to pool & drip downward. You could tell by the look on his face exactly what he wanted, & when he looked at your body with such reverence you couldn't say no to him.

"Does daddy want a taste? Does daddy want some of mommy's milk first? Daddy's the one that helped put it there after all. They're Daddy's titties too."

You brought his face up to kiss him & running your fingers through his hair, putting on your biggest doe eyes & saying those words as sweetly as possible. What he wanted was a new incredibly intimate gesture. You wanted to assure him & his desire. 

His eyes were closed & he melted into your lips. He loved that you could read his body. He practically whimpered as you asked him. You knew he secretly hid a very needy side.

You sat up further & let your hands fall down his chest to his undone pants. Passionately kissing him, letting your tongue lick at his lips as you finished pushing his pants down. Smiling as he gasped when his cock finally sprung free. You gripped him in one hand & stroked him a few times, using a firm enough grasp to let a few drops of pre-cum gather at his slit. 

You collected it on your fingers as you cooed against his lips, "Take me to bed daddy & you can have all the milk you want." You then licked & sucked the pre-cum from your fingers moaning at the taste of him. 

With a wave of a single hand you felt the soft bed materialize underneath you, propped up by several pillows, & your lover's body carefully lowered down against yours. Arching your back as you felt his long hard shaft sliding through your soaked folds.

He immediately started lapping at one nipple then the other. Cleaning up what had already leaked from you. Then he wrapped his lips around one of them & began sucking lightly, moaning when the warm liquid started to flow on his tongue. 

After a minute or two of suckling on one breast he switched to the other. Looking thoroughly drunk when he finally had his fill. He buried his face in your neck & began nipping & sucking at your ear letting you hold him close. 

"Kitten, I love you so much. Every inch of you is perfection. Your pussy was fucking made for me. The moment these babies are out of you I'm filling you up full again. Tell me how badly you need my cock kitten. Beg for my cock."

He had positioned himself at your entrance & so the head of his cock pressed right where you needed him but he didn't push into you. He added just enough pressure to tease you, but you could tell by the fact he was frantically starting to rut against you faster that he was getting desperate. So were you, & your hips started to move to meet his. Each thrust letting him start to slip into you little by little.

"Please Stephen. Fuck me, make love to me. You make me feel so good. I can't believe I ever did without you. Fuck me daddy."

He let himself slide into your fully at your plea. Both of you moaning into each other's mouths, before biting at each other's lips. Your foreheads pressed together as he started to frantically thrust into you. 

He fucked you fast but made sure he wasn't too rough with you being as far along as you were. You both watched as his long hard cock sank into your swollen pussy glistening with your arousal as he pulled out only to thrust back. Watching your pregnant body take his cock was quickly pushing him toward climax. 

"Can I cum on your beautiful breasts kitten? Please let me cum on your tits & your belly. Want to see you marked with me inside & out." 

He rambled his request against your lips. Moving down to kiss & suck on your breasts while he waited for your answer. Smiling at the whining noise you made when he flicked his tongue fast against your nipple.

"Yes daddy, however you want. Cum on my belly, my breasts, my face. Wherever you want, baby."

A few more thrusts & he pulled out. He started rubbing your clit with one hand & rapidly fucking into his other fist. Watching your face contort with pleasure from his touch as you pressed your breasts together for him. Presenting your body to him. 

"Cum for me kitten. I wanna cum on you as you cum. I know you're close. Listen to your pretty little purrs. Fuck I'm gonna cum so hard, there's gonna be so much. After I paint you you can lick it up like a good little kitten if you want."

The thought of him marking you like that made you cum hard, writhing underneath him & crying out his name. He growled as he gripped himself hard & cum started streaming from his cock. Streak after streak, stretching from your belly to your breasts. A couple ropes even spurted up to your chin & mouth. You happily licked up any that landed on your lips. 

He milked every drop from himself, letting his cock cum to rest on your swollen belly. He leaned back admiring your form as he used the hand he had used on himself to spread his seed across your chest & belly. He wished he had a camera.

"I think you like seeing me like this. Covered in my husband's cum. I like it too. I like being your little cum covered wife. I love you Stephen."

He leaned down to kiss you as you rambled in blissed out exhaustion. He marveled at how enraptured he was with his sweet dirty wife. The object of his every desire. Perfect in every way. Your eyelids were growing heavy & you were starting to drift in & out. He conjured a warm wet cloth & cleaned both of you up before tucking you under the covers with a pillow supporting your belly & him cuddled in behind you. 

"I hope you know I will do anything for you my love. I would kill, I would steal. Anything. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you safe my darling wife. I will take that universe for us. Let him live in this crumbling place, we deserve that world. That future. The 4 of us."

--------------------------------

Stephen sat up bolt upright in his bed. He had been dreaming of you again. Of the two of you in the throes of passion. Of his hands & lips on you. Of him inside you. He despised those dreams. 

There were no words for how much he despised those dreams, because now he had learned that they weren't just dreams. They were a look through the eyes of a variant of himself. More often than not it was the variant that had taken you from him, & he missed you so much his heart actually hurt. 

Sometimes when he woke he swore he could still taste you on his tongue & feel your legs wrapped around his waist. He could still hear the little noises you made each time he thrust into you, warm & wet, & it tore him apart all over again. Especially as he watched your pregnant belly grow bigger. Even if he wasn't the biological father, he desperately wanted to be. Wanted to raise them with you. Anger & heartbreak hitting him like a tsunami.

He picked up the glass on the nightstand next to his bed & downed its contents. It looked like water, but a quick whiff of the substance would reveal the glasses' true contents. He winced at the burn in his throat & threw the now empty glass against the wall shattering it to pieces. It made him feel better seeing the fragile crystal shattering as it hit the rich dark wood, even if it was only marginally & momentarily. 

The Cloak of Levitation came running in, if it could even be called running, at the sound to make sure its master was unharmed. It's collar dropped in sadness when it realized the reason for the crash. 

Strange buried his face in his hands, the shaking in them had gotten worse again since you had been gone. He let out a few tears & muffled sobs before sniffling & moving to get up from the bed. Shaking his head to clear the emotion visible on his face. Snapping at the sentient garment, "I'm fine."

He went to the bathroom & the dark aura that he now bore followed him as he moved. The cloak sagged at the new attitude the sorcerer carried. Even it knew that he was treading on tenuous ground at what he would do to get you back.

In the library Wanda, Wong, & America had been working non-stop trying to formulate a plan. What Stephen was unaware of was that during the daily walks she had made you take, Wanda had planted a small failsafe mechanism in your mind in the event you fell prey to the variant's manipulation.

It allowed her to mentally keep tabs on your location, even once you had moved universes. She knew exactly where you were, & whether or not you & the babies were safe. She had kept Wong in the loop since you disappeared, but until they knew how exactly to get you back they didn't want to tell Stephen & have him go on multiversal breaking rampage.

They also shared in the knowledge that one of the babies you carried did in fact belong to this Stephen. They were saving that fact for a key moment. To give him something extra to fight for. They knew the knowledge of the true origin of your pregnancy was what shattered him. They were hoping that this knowledge would help put him back together. 

They would go to the Sanctum in the universe with that sinister version of Strange, they knew that was where you would both be. It was where he would be the most powerful & in control. As Wanda worked to pull your mind free of his manipulation, Wong & Stephen would fight the variant of Strange. America's job was to get the book & destroy it. Without it his hold on you would be easier to break.

America was the one who would get them to you since she was the one who could open the multiversal portal. The question was could it be done with just the 4 of them? Bruce & Tony weren't comfortable with any of the non-magical Avengers going. So that ruled out the 2 of them, Steve, Bucky, Nat, Clint, Rhodey, & Sam. Scott wasn't sure how the multiverse would compare to the quantum realm or affect the power in the Pym particles. So that took him out too. They decided it would be too dangerous for Peter to help either.

Vision & Thor were the only 2 left who could serve as backup. Since Vision had the mind stone & was an android they figured he was safe, & he had some knowledge of the multiverse. As a god who was used to traveling by the Bifrost they figured he had a hearty enough constitution to handle it. America would only bring them if they were out of other options. 

As Stephen came storming out of his bedroom he strode right past them without casting a glance. America turned to greet him as he walked right past leaving her mouth hanging open & a hurt look in her eyes.

Wanda reached out to console her, rubbing her back with one hand & using the other to steer her back to where Wong was still standing.

"Leave him be. He dreamed of her again, I can sense it." 

Wong grimaced & hummed in agreement with Wanda before voicing the obvious. It wasn't worth a fight right now. They were close to having their plan ready. They would need him later & they should save his patience.

"The dreams seem to be what's upsetting him the most. He's always the worst in the morning."

Wanda pursed her lips together. She couldn't exactly blame Stephen. God only knows what she would do if she found herself in the same situation. She imagined the hurt & anger would be unbearable.

"If you saw the kind of dreams he's having, the things he's seeing, you wouldn't blame him. Trust me."

By the end of the day they had set the rest of their plan. It would be up to Wanda to untangle your mind, but first they had to get that ring off of you. Wong had determined that it was what had acted as a shield against her magic. What would happen to your captor would be decided by his own actions. Now they had to rally Stephen. 

They found him where he practically lived now, in the library. Going book by book, he was leaving no page unturned. No spell unconsidered. Even the ones he knew he was treading dangerously to entertain. Every painful dream of his other self's hands on you & cock inside you driving him closer to using them. 

He rounded a corner & found the 3 of them waiting for him around a table covered in books & empty bottles. 

"What? I'm busy."

"We have a plan & we need you." Wanda made an appeal to his emotion. "She needs you, & they need you." 

"In case you forgot, they aren't mine." His eyes flashed in hurt & anger. His voice caught in his throat as he spoke. 

It was Wong's turn to take over the conversation. That way if Stephen started yelling it was at him, not America or Wanda. Especially now that they had to tell him the part that would really hurt.

"Strange, we learned something else, we were wrong. One of the babies is his, but one of them is yours. That's why they were growing unevenly. Only one of them was, is, being aided by his dark magic."

"What? You're lying. She said… that's not what she told me, when she… when he took her." 

He wasn't so much accusing Wong of lying so much as praying that you were. If one of the babies was his then that meant maybe he could still get to you, maybe he could still get you to come home willingly. It would mean he still had a tether to you. You still had a tether to this universe. It would be much easier for them to undo whatever he did.

"We think, we're pretty sure, she just said that to hurt you. Whatever thoughts he has been planting in her head to get her to leave willingly, he was also trying to turn her against you. To break her trust in you. It would only make sense she would lash out if he made her believe… that." 

Wong knew better than to mention the thing you accused him of, what you were sure he had done. He & Wanda had come in just to hear you scream at him that he had slept with Christine in your shared bed. They both knew he hadn't & he never would, but you were under the influence of dark magic. 

Stephen began pacing back & forth as he ran his hands down his face. He felt half hysterical. He didn't know what emotion to feel. If he got you back he would have loved the babies even if they weren't really his, but the idea that he was really the biological father of at least one of them lit a new fire in him. One way or another he had to get you back here. 

"Stephen? Are you okay?" America questioned unable to read his expression.

Using his magic he pulled 4 chairs out from the table.

"What's the plan?"

--------------------------------

He purposely had America drop him somewhere in the city well away from the Sanctum. If the other Strange saw the portal it would give away any element of surprise they may have had. He would find his way there & try to reason with the variant. They all knew there was little hope in that, but it would be the best way to ensure your safety. They would wait until Stephen called for them to join, keeping an eye on his success from their universe. Using Wanda's powers to channel his in order to keep a visual & mental line of communication open to him.

He entered the building without any trouble & made his way up the staircase. Hearing his footsteps echo he knew his presence had now been detected, but his variant made no attempt to slow or stop him. He made his way to the center of the room to stand in front of the large window bearing the seal of Vishanti. Turning in a circle he surveyed the room, watching for any hint of a moving shadow or glow of magic. If he got lucky maybe you would find him or he could find you without interference. 

"Well well, hello Stephen." A voice boomed through the hall & encased the entire room around him. Purposely attempting to startle him with the volume.

He rolled his eyes as his variant strode forward from the shadows & leaned against a pillar with his hands casually held behind his back. Of course he found himself before he found you. His own ego now on display to him through his doppelganger.

"Did you come looking for something? I don't think there's anything of yours here. I think everything here has pretty thoroughly been marked as mine. Speaking of, any interesting dreams lately?"

A taunting grin playing on his lips. He knew that your former Stephen had been an unwilling voyeur to some of your naughty escapades since arriving. If he had the ability the sinister Strange would have ensured that Stephen had to watch every single one the way he had watched every time your former lover touched you when he couldn't. It would only be fair to make him watch. 

Maybe if your former lover begged nice enough, he would let him watch you both in person before he killed him. Now that you belonged to the man who truly deserved you. 

"What is he doing here?" 

You emerged from the shadows of the adjacent room. Your melodic voice pierced through the thoughts of both men & they immediately turned to look at you. The two pairs of matching icy blue eyes moving over your body with two very different emotions.

Stephen's eyes immediately clouded with tears when he saw you. You looked like a poison flower, beautiful but deadly. Your skin less flushed & vibrant, the inky black dress you wore made the contrast even more sharp. Your whole aura had shifted to a deep smokey purple that matched the magic Sinister Strange used. You were without a doubt under some sort of magical hold. 

"What did he do to you? Are you okay? Are they okay?" 

His voice cracked slightly as he reached his hand out as if to touch you. His gaze pleading for you to answer him.

You placed your hands over your pregnant belly assuming a protective posture as Stephen took a step toward you. The ring on your finger was glittering & glowing seemingly to tease him. 

His dark copy cast a snide laugh as he strode up behind you & placed an open mouthed kiss on your neck. Making the gesture as lewd as he possibly could. Leaving his eyes on Stephen as he placed his left hand over yours on your stomach to show off his matching wedding band. 

"Oh come now Strange. I know that you know what I've been doing to her, & how much she has been enjoying it."

He trailed his right hand up your arm & teasingly across your breast to tilt your jaw so could nip at your ear. Enjoying every second he could of getting to play with his stolen toy in front of the other man.

You snapped a quick, "I'm fine. We're fine." Hoping it would move the conversation forward.  Tilting your chin down to glance at your belly, pursing your lips to keep your emotions in check.

Your patience with their pissing match was already running thin. You still loved the man across from you. He may have broken your heart but you didn't want to watch him physically suffer. The longer he stayed the more danger he was in. You knew that as well as he did.

Stephen's lips curled up slightly when he immediately you were referring you yourself & the babies. Not the other version of him. He swallowed hard & nodded in acknowledgment of your response. He decided to take a chance & address you again.

"I don't know what he showed you, but I would never cheat on you. Please believe me. Please just come with me & we'll figure everything out. I know one of the babies is really mine. Even if you never forgive me, none of you are safe here with him." 

"Stephen, stop! I've made my decision. The other baby is his regardless. I'm not going with you." Your right hand clasped the bicep of the man whose arm was wrapped around you, trying to feel as steady of yourself as you sounded.

"Why don't you go run home to your little Christine, Doctor. While you still can." Your husband gritted the threat through his teeth & pulled you tighter to his chest Turning his gaze down to you he started to paw at your neck & chest again. 

"We have much more… stimulating things to do, isn't that right kitten?"

Your former lover huffed in irritation at him, turning his attention back to his copy.

"Let's ignore the fact that you have her under some form of control, but you know that you can't keep her here. This universe has suffered an incursion already, bringing her from another universe is risking the collapse of both universes. If you love her & your child, both children, like you say you do you'll let her leave."

Sinister Strange was starting to get beyond irritated with him. He had given him a chance to leave unscathed, for the time being anyway, but he chose to stay & continue to run his mouth. He shouldn't be surprised, it's exactly what he would have done.

"Well before you manage to harass & upset my lovely little wife even more, shall we get this over with? Or would you & your friends like to put up a fight first? Makes no difference by me, as I planned on taking your Sanctum from their cold dead hands after I finished with you anyway. Of course you could just give it to us willingly. Call it a wedding present perhaps?" 

That was the moment a blue star opened behind Stephen. Wong, Wanda, & America stepped through to stand behind. Wong immediately put up his shields as Wanda & America moved to flank the 2 men but neither took a defensive stance.

Sinister Strange kissed the back of your hand & moved his hands away from you before starting to slowly walk toward them. You instinctively backed up to the wall & started stepping toward the corner. Your hands cradling your belly even tighter. You knew his magic was protecting you somehow, but you didn't know to what extent or for how long if he was fighting both Wong & your other Stephen.

You made eye contact with Wanda & she made clear she was heading to help shield you from any stray bursts of magic. Your gaze told her not to press her luck & anger the dark sorcerer instead by doing anything stupid like trying to take you. You could see her grudgingly agree by holding her hands up by her face. As long as her crimson colored magic didn't appear she wouldn't warrant any magical retaliation for now. America slowly began approaching you from the other direction, the evil variants gaze boring into her a warning that would only let one of them within arms reach of you without intervention.

Once she had made it within running distance of you Stephen finally answered. He glanced back at Wong who made eye contact with him signalling that they were all ready. It was now or never.

"Looks like the Sorcerer Supreme isn't gonna go for that idea." 

A purple ball of energy materialized between Sinister Strange's hands as he grinned menacingly at the 2 men. He chuckled darkly to himself.

"Yeah, didn't think so." 

--------------------------------

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[no-droids]

Beginner’s Luck

Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6K

Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT.  Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry

A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos

***

“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting.  “Turn around, let me see.”

“No.  I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says.  You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in.  “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”

“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.

Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it.  You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle.  Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.

Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him.  He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.

“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence.  “I look ridiculous.”

Still, nothing.  You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth.  Oh for the love of Maker—

“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl.  He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.

Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it.  You fucking knew he was laughing.

“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.

“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?”  You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries.  The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace.  “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”

“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now.  “Way too big.”

“Too big?”  You blink at him.  “That’s your criticism?”

When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no.  It’s fucking… rust.  It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character.  There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?

“You’re telling me you went from this—”  You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens?  It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”

He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull.  “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh.  “This planet isn’t nice.”

That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully.  “Are we on Corellia?”  You ask without thinking.

“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron.  “Tatooine.”

You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill.  Different setting, same kind of people.  Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them.  You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else.  It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.

“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs.  “Someone… nice.  It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”

Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you.  Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to.  Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy.  But for real, who is he talking about?

“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?”  You ask instead, but he shakes his head.

“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace.  “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”

“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again.  “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”

Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore.  “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words.  “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”

You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second.  “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment.  “We can stay with your… friend.”  

You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step.  You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.

Was that not subtle?  You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated.  You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again.  That’s what’s called a friend, right?  

Maker, why are you being so weird about this?

Thankfully, you end up getting away with it.  After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit.  You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.

***

It’s bright.  Fuck, it’s so bright here.  You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it.  Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.

Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now.  But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance.  “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”

Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely.  You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.

“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him.  “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”

“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink.  What… what happened last time?

“It sure won’t!”  The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long.  “I’m still recovering, Mando!”

“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.

She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second.  “How much do you think my life is worth?”

Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration.  Probably both.  “I brought my ki—”

“You bring trouble!”  She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground.  “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”

He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot.  How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide.  He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his.  He talks to you.  He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without.  Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.

So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.

“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos.  “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”

Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders.  Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.

“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?”  She faces him and pokes his armor again.  “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”

“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase.  Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point.  He said she was nice?  And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?

“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks.  Fuck, there’s no way.  There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.

But… he doesn’t respond.  Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation.  Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue.  Maker, five hundred credits.  You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it.  He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.

So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.

Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around.  Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side.  You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now.  Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does.  Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it.  You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—

But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.

You understand him.  Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway.  You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing.  It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him.  That’s insane.

He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.  

“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.

And you think now is finally the time to go, right?  Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently.  Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you?  You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?

You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape.  He leaves and doesn’t look back.

Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.

“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk.  Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask.  “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”

You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her.  “Pre-Imperial or post?  Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”

She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.

***

So Peli is… a character.

She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it.  She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable.  You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night.  You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.

The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse.  You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck.  Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror.  Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.

Din was right, though.  She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about.  She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being.  On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears.  It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.

At least you stay busy—which, understatement.  She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing.  Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later.  You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset.  You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life.  However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do.  After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.

One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself.  You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.

You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.

Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.

You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.

***

A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.

There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game.  There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.

It’s an unpredictable nightmare.  But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game.  The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.

“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.

You don’t argue, because there’s no point.  The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point.  You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void.  You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best.  Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.

“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it.  “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”

You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand.  “I have a lot of free time.”

“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair.  Peli sets the mug down and sighs.  “You’re a good mechanic.  I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”

Now, you do smile.  But it’s a hidden one.  A fond one.  One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him.  You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him.  Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace.  It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him.  Nothing can touch you.  You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.

No, you’d never consider it.  This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous.  You love the baby.  You love him.  You’d never consider it.

“Don’t you get bored?”  She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit.  “Just waiting around for him to come back?”

You don’t have to think about your answer.  Of course you do.  If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without.  Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go.  You’ve never experienced anything like that before.  There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age.  So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them.  You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy.  You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family.  You don’t know of anything you could want more.  Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment.  Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence.  You know what it means to live for yourself.  You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different.  As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better.  Now you have other people to live for, too.  

You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago.  He used to terrify you.  You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up.  Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.

No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition.  Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do.  You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea.  But maybe you can also…

You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What do you want now?”  She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.

“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal.  “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them.  Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface?  I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”

She furrows her eyebrows at you.  “But I still need your help with…”

You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it.  Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work.  This is what Din does, right?  Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet?  Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.

“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin.  “But only if you win this round.  What d’you got?”

You set down your cards to reveal your hand.  A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.

“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.

***

It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7.  They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave.  Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.

You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done.  After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.

As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape.  You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating.  You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.

Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before.  You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted.  It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.

Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired.  You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open.  Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.

“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you.  Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.

You know you must look a hot mess right now.  Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is.  Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.

Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could.  Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.

You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that.  You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.

And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted.  He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.  

Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level.  And fuck, nothing stops you from looking.  He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either.  He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.

He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs.  Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…

The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.

You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time.  Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now.  Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…

“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all.  “But… shit, but…”

“But…?”  You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides.  “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”

You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him.  All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.

“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside.  Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful.  “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long.  “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him.  Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you.  The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck.  “Shit.  I… I need to clean up.  Grab your things, go tell…”

Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss.  You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters.  “Uh.  Go tell…”  He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so.  “Her.  That we’re leaving tonight.”

“What?”  You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused.  “What are you saying right now?”

“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat.  “The mechanic, with the… droids.  Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”

“Peli?”  You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point.  “Did you forget her name, Mando?”

“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that.  “Never asked.”

“But you—?”  You blink at him.  “But you said she was your friend?”

“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy.  It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it.  Yikes, you absolutely did say that.  You forgot.

“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response.  “Ha.  Oh.  Yeah, huh.”

There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom.  Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?

“Were you jealous?”  He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.

“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far.  You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.

“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw.  “Tell me the truth.”

You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered.  So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would.  Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.

His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help.  His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle.  “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”

His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you…  Mind blank, no thoughts.  Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.

“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try.  “There’s no reason.  I was jealous.  It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid.  I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”

Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off.  Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.

“See that wall?”  He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it.  You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about.  It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar.  He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you.  “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”

You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar.  “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”

Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.

She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore.  “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”

“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.

“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again.  “You owe me five hundred credits.”

“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point.  Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.

“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.

“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.

Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly.  You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here.  She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.

“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him.  “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”

And then your jaw drops.  Holy shit, is she serious?  You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly.  Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.

Also… girlfriend?

Is that what you are to him?  Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so.  You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important?  You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again.  If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough.  Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough.  It’s an elementary school version of what this is.  And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend?  Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.

“Uh.”  He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point.  Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder?  Lover?  No, not good enough.  Partner?  No.  No, not wife, definitely fucking not—  “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder.  “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”

All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness.  The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.

“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.

***

So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.

You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing.  You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here.  Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.  

When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food.  A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps?  Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things.  While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.

Well.  Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.

Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful.  The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you.  You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.

So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically.  So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one.  He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.

Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch.  It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye.  Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.

Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—

You fire, and… well.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life.  You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.

“Try again.”

There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it.  Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.  

No, you think in frustration.  You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time.  You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.

You adjust your aim and fire a few more times.  Miss, miss, wild miss, miss.  Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you.  Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—

Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.

“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise.  He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.

“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit.  “Go ahead, give it another shot.”

But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was.  Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing.  He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast?  That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?

“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.

“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.

“So how did you toggle so fas—?”

He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.

“How in the f…?”  You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch.  “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again.  “Design flaw.”

“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon.  “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature.  Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”

The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.

“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking.  “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando?  I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”

“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips.  They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again.  “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”

“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.

“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.

“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin.  “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”

But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off.  “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”

Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him.  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards.  “Of course not.  Pick up the gun.”

Okay.

Okay, so that one gets you.

You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you.  Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.

Shit, okay, focus.  Focus, you can do this.  You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life.  The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours.  His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows.  He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.

He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on.  Maker, chill out.  Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot.  This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…

Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong.  You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—

“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.

The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center.  You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.

He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target.  Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.

When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more.  You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit.  Bullseye, right on the nose.

This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.

“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh.  “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”

“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down.  “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong.   Are you just distracted?”

Uh, fuck yeah you are.  So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind.  He’s your biggest distraction, all the time.  He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.  

Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.

“Can I watch you do it?”  You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf.  “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him.  He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused.  You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.

He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically.  You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out.  You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot.  You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.

As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right.  You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop.  Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.

He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable.  Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago.  No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere.  The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit.  They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands.  But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there.  He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either.  He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.

None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize.  It’s not fun because he’s too good at it.  This is life.  This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.

You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element.  You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you.  Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.

Is it just you, you wonder?  Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?

No, you think.  No.  You have seen him relax.  You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.  

But… only with you.  A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.

Fuck.  Why does that turn you on so fucking much?  It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit.  The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.

“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it.  You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it.  You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.

Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders.  He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.

Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back.  Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.

He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason.  There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator.  He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime.  Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.

Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf.  The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.

“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.

Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots.  Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.  

You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this.  His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too.  You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.

A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him.  Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more.  So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point.  And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.

Din is a fucking statue.  He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it.  Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.

You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already.  You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out.  You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.

At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public.  Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.

Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else.  Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response.  He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it.  This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else.  This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.

You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue.  His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue.  While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.

Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth.  Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with.  You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it.  He endures.  Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.

But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando!  Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”

You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing.  The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.  

And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.

The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming.  Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at.  Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.  

He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance.  The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever.  Handling it is all on him.  He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun.  It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?

Wrong.  So wrong.  You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss.  Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs.  But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.

Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length.  Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him.  His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.

So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want.  His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache.  You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.

“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise.  “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”

Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?

You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.

His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth.  You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner.  The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.

He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean.  His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.

He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going.  Is that fucked up, you wonder?  What would he think?

He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving?  Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that.  The coast must not be clear, you have to assume.  Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t.  You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants.  He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.

The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows.  What would he think?  That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent?  Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.

At some point, you can’t stop yourself.  You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.

You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit.  Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss.  He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on.  You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.

Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair.  Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—

That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand.  And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this.  You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again.  Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified.  Debased.  And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.

When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum.  You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins.  By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants.  You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.

The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest.  You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble.  Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that.  He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake.  He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense.  Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.

Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.

“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet.  “Now you should be able to focus, right?”

Fuck…  Fuck, is he serious?  You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard.  How does this work again?  What does this do?

“Wh-What?”  You croak—fuck, your voice is gone.  “I… I can’t—”

“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it.  Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield.  “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath.  “You can do it.”

You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way.  “I… can’t.”

“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace.  A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.

It sounds… wonderful.

Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady.  The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.

You drop your hands, already defeated and drained.  “I can’t.”

“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again.  Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.

You shoot.  Nope.  So you shoot again.  And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.

“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again.  “Expensive.  Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”

Miss, miss, miss, and—no.  Just, no.  There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap.  You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place.  “Mando, I ca—”

“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.

… What?  N… No…

Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.

You… you know it must just be a joke, right?  Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be.  You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.

“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding.  If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away.  Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something.  Is he messing with you again?  Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?

It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate.  Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.

The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready.  You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—

—it hits dead center.

Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is.  You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.

“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint.  Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened?  “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him.  “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”

You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all.  Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?

No.  Shut up.  Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything.  Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—

You do, and oh.  Oh, no.

“Uh?!”  Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic.  What the fuck?  No fucking way.  Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot.  “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”

Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you.  You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.  

The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb.  There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—

—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.  

It fucking bends.  Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.

Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.

… that’s not closed.

The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away.  Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it.  You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.

Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.

“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him.  “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”

Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door.  You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance.  The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.

***

Stay tuned for the next part!

[midoriyas-wifey]

ALPHA!WOLF HYBRID! BAKUGOU X OMEGA!BUNNY! READER SFW AND NSFW HEADCANONS

Okay, so this might’ve ended up more as a short story with some nasty thots ™ , but c’est la vie 😌

* Ok my size kink is about to jump out but I imagine the size difference between him and his lil bunny is that they only come up to his elbow. When I say lil bunny I mean LIL bunny 😈

* Also Y/N is a lop earred bunny bc I said so.

* Bakugou ADORES his bunny’s size; couldn’t be more happy (and smug 🙄) about it.

* Despite his typically rough and dominating nature, he will admit to being SLIGHTLY softer with his omega (don’t be fooled he follows them like a lost puppy, simping all the way)

* If someone even LOOKS at his bunny funny, he’s on them like white on rice. Ground shaking growls and snarls fills the air, ruff bristling with the intent to throw hands. And bite. Tbh he probably carries rabies.

* Only Y/N can truly calm him. His friends take full advantage, both metaphorically and literally tugging on the beast’s tail. Sometimes Y/N doesn’t soothe him just for laughs. His friends don’t find that funny thank you very much.

* With Deku it’s on sight. This wolf has less chill than canon Bakugou.

* It was almost cliche, how they met. Y/N was going on a jog in their local park, enjoying the short but lovely Sakura blossoming season.

* It just so happened that Bakugou was taking a MUCH needed lunch break, his tail wagging at the mere thought of digging into his ungodly spicy curry.

* He decided to enjoy the serenity of the park, plopping himself heavily on the bench that groaned under his massive form. However, it was no match for the deep growling groan bubbling deep in his chest.

* That’s when his (future) omega came around the bend, paying him no mind as they passed.

* He was struck, a primal urge within him roaring to life. His mind narrowed down to that of a predator.

* Chase

* CHASE

* His body sprung into action, intent on hunting his prey- his mate his mate hismate hismate HISMATE-

* Before either one of them knew what was going on, Y/N was scooped into his arms, tiny frame near squished from the possessive hold of the huge alpha.

* He stopped, taking a moment to bend down to sniff and whuff all over his bunny’s hair, burying his sensitive nose as deep as possible.

* Suddenly, as if snapped from a trance, Bakugou reared his head back in confusion at his own actions, before looking down with clear eyes at the little bunny cradled against him.

* Y/N’s nose was twitching a mile a minute in confusion and surprise, frozen in his hold.

* Y/N oddly didn’t feel much fear, instead mostly an apprehensive curiosity; waiting to see what this wolf would do.

* He couldn’t deny that the Omega’s twitching nose and heated face were more than adorable. He took another inhale and grinned, baring his large, sharp fangs in excitement.

* Ok now Y/N was a little spooked they can’t lie.

* He decided in that moment that this cute little bunny would be his, come hell or high water.

NSFW AHEAD CHOO CHOO 🚂

* So,, size difference.

* He lives and DIES for belly bulges and cumflation. It also goes without saying that he has a breeding and impregnation kink I mean cmon he’s a wolf hybrid alpha hellooooo

* Ass man til he dies. He’s fiending for those cakes, he wanna see them wobble and jiggle on his dick. And also loves to watch that cute tail bob and wiggle along with it.

* He dreams of nothing more than clappin and slappin cheeks. If he wasn’t a pro hero then he’d be a pro spanker and groper every time he can get away with it.

* Likes when you squeak out in surprise when he takes a swat at your ass

* I hc his dick to be about 4 inches flacid and grows to about 9 inches including his knot. He’s a grower not a shower for sure, but he’s smug about it all the same.

* It’s obviously a wolf shaped dick bc I don’t hold back. And neither does his hunny bunny 😏

* Speaking of, the first time they fucked he insisted on treating them like a porcelain doll, barely touching where they needed him. Finally they rolled over into doggy position, head resting on the pillow before wiggling their ass in a blatant invitation.

* He took hold of their velvety ears and tilted their head back in a show of total dominance, a fierce growl demanding their submission.

* He bred them until they passed out, drool, cum, and slick soaking the sheets. No matter how much he tried, no matter how big his knot inflated in his omega, there was just too much of his virile cum stuffing Y/N for it all to stay in.

* He could feast on their sex for hours, lapping it up like ambrosia, leaving his omega a shaking and crying mess

* Makes them ride his face he don’t care what size they are. If they’re bigger he lives for almost being smothered to death by their thick thighs. His tongue will fuck Y/N to infinity and beyond, greedy the whole way through.

* He just can’t get enough of his sweet lil bunny, and Y/N’ll take all the affection and pleasure he gives them. They have no choice in the matter. He’s the alpha and what he says goes, and if his omega forgets that? He’s more than happy to remind them.

[cowboycakes]

Do You Get My Letters

✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader

✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist

✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.

✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.

✥ Word Count: 2.2k

(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)

Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽‍♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!

Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.

---

Dear Reiner,

I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.

In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.

I’m pregnant.

I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.

I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.

I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.

Sincerely,

Reader

---

The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.

The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.

You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.

“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”

You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.

“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.

“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.

You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.

“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”

“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”

You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.

“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”

“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”

You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.

He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.

“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.

You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.

“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.

---

Dear Reader,

I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.

The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.

Eren Jaeger

---

Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.

You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”

Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”

You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.

Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.

You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.

Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.

“Absolutely not.”

---

Dear Reiner,

Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.

How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.

I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.

I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.

Levi

---

You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.

The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.

You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.

The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.

“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”

He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.

The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.

Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.

You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.

The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.

Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.

You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.

“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.

“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”

Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.

“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”

—-

Dear Reiner,

She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.

Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.

If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.

She has your eyes.

Sincerely,

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.

I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.

Are you even alive?

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.

I still wonder about you. After all these years.

Reader

—-

Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.

That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.

You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?

You pry at it until it comes open.

Letters.

Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.

You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.

You pull out the second bundle and gasp.

—-

Dear Reader,

Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.

I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.

Love,

Reiner

—

Dear Reader,

Do you get my letters?

I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.

I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.

Love,

Reiner

—-

To Levi,

You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.

Reiner

—-

There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.

You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.

You are the farce, Levi.

But, why? He was just protecting you, right?

The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.

You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.

“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”

“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”

“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”

Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.

༺♥༻

I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)

༺♥༻

[cuttoothed]

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

*

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

[multiplefandomsblog]

Kokichi x Reader x Shuichi sfw and nsfw headcannons

desc; NSFW and SFW head-canons of a polyamorous relationship with Shuichi and Kokichi.

warnings; unedited, polyamory, angst, fluff, cussing, SFW and NSFW, F!Reader, they are all living together, praise kink, crying, begging, kokichi has a master kink, brats, brat taming, shuichi has an aural kink exhibitionism kinda? minor dumbification, overstimulation, rough sex, mentions of spanking, pegging, oral(m & f receiving)

Request; (Danganronpa) I don’t use Tumblr that much so I apologize if this is a bad ask but could you write Kokichi x Reader x Shuichi SFW and NSFW head-canons (or imagines whatever’s easier)? I don’t know if you do personality types but if you do could you just make them a tall Fuyuhiko? If that makes sense, fem! Or GN! Pronouns preferably but I don’t mind either. Thank you and it’s fine if you cannot do this

≈SFW≈

◊ Shuichi would mostly be the one to take care of the two of you.

◊ He’s like the housewife or mom of the three of you, you two being his babies.

◊ These are just my head-canons but- I think Shuichi’s love language would be words of affirmation, while Kokichi’s would be quality time.

◊ By quality time I mean, well, pranks.

◊ I think Shuichi would need to hear actual words come out your mouths to be 100% sure of something. So when you two say something simple like, an “I love you.” before a call ends or before going to bed, he would feel lovesick. 

◊ He thinks about it for the rest of the day with a small pink tint on his cheeks(aw).

◊ Kokichi loves pranks almost as much as he loves the two of you. As silly as it sounds, it makes him feel cared for when the two of his loves aid him in pranking. It’s as if you three were a team, a triple threat.

◊ It makes him feel as if you two truly loved him enough to do evil shit like this with him.

◊ I think Kokichi would be a pretty clingy boyfriend, any time he sees one of you, he would immediately pounce on you.

◊ Kokichi is one for PDA, Shuichi is not. I feel like since he already has anxiety, he wouldn’t want to attract any attention to himself. Kokichi doesn’t care, he encourages people to look at the 3 of you. As if trying to communicate with everyone, “They are mine, touch them and get your fucking fingers bitten off.” 

◊ Kokichi would call you ‘Thing #1’ and Shuichi ‘Thing #2’ just to fuck with you two.

◊ Kokichi loves fucking with you especially, he enjoys your reactions to his pranks and teases. You’re his favourite victim for him; Your tsundere personality, just a cherry on top.

◊ You and Shuichi both enjoy picking Kokichi up at random times, just to annoy him and fluster him. He’d be talking shit to someone, and you would just swoop in and throw his small body over your shoulder. 

◊ Shuichi would pick Kokichi up when he saw that he was bothering someone, muttering a small apology before walking off with an angry gremlin in his arms.

◊ I think something Shuichi is afraid of, is every time he leaves you two to go somewhere, he’s afraid that might be the last time he sees you two. So before leaving, he always makes sure he kisses both of you goodbye, no matter what. 

◊ During arguments he would stay calm and collected, trying to understand your guys’ perspectives whilst explaining his. But if one of you decided to storm out, he would instantly panic and act fast. He would always stop you and pull you into a hug. No matter how much the other struggled, he wouldn’t let go. He’s so scared of losing one of you ever since the killing game, he doesn’t want to leave you two with something you, Kokichi or he himself didn’t mean to say.

◊ Though if one of you did need some healthy space, he would let you two go but not without a hug or any type of sign that you two still loved him no matter what.

◊ He hates holding grudges. If you and Kokichi decide to be stubborn and hold a grudge against him, he’ll apologize even if he knows it wasn’t his fault. He’d throw away his pride if it meant you two weren’t mad at him anymore.

◊ you and kokichi would sit on the couch together, playing multiplayer games(fortnite-) while cuddling each other. Sometimes Kokichi would be resting on your chest and vice versa.

◊ Shuichi would catch the two of you cuddling on the couch, sound asleep after playing games and his heart would do an oopsie.

◊ No, scratch that. Several oopsies.

◊ seeing you two like that makes him realize that there is no limit to how much he loves the two of you.

◊ I head-canon Kokichi to be the big spoon cuddling Shuichi while Shuichi cuddled you. 

◊ slight nsfw here! unless shuichi had topped kokichi prior to cuddling, then he would be the little spoon, Kichi being too tired to wrap his arms around Shuichi.

◊ being sandwiched between the two of his loves, nowhere else he’d rather be.

≈NSFW≈

◊ I head-canon Kokichi to be the whiniest, most disobedient brat.

◊ He claims he’s a top, but we all know he’s lying(as always).

◊ I head-canon Kokichi, a switch with a bottom lean(the times he tops are exhilarating but unfortunately, rare).

◊ He’d constantly rile you or Shuichi up, all because he wanted you to make him sob, beg, and break. 

◊ If Shuichi told him too, he would pound you into the mattress as he knew Shuichi was watching, only encouraging him more.

◊ Kokichi loves when your usual cold demeanour fades away as you moan out from how good he’s doing you. 

◊ The way you three would have sex would be, either Shuichi fucks Kokichi from behind while Kokichi struggles not to cream inside your pussy, or Shuichi pounds you while you suck Kokichi off. 

◊ There are many many variations you three try.

◊ Sometimes you would top the both of them if you somehow gained dominance over the two.

◊ You would get yourself off in front of them as they drooled to get the smallest taste of your dripping cunt. Dominating the both of them by using your pussy as bait.

◊ Sometimes, you would take out the strap and pound into Shuichi as he sucked Kokichi’s dick, resulting in him screaming into Kokichi’s cock.

◊ Shuichi would truly be the cutest sub.

◊ On rare occasions, if Kokichi finds out you two fucked without him, he would top the hell out of both of you. 

◊ He would get Shuichi to eat you out as he dicked Shuichi until he was begging for him to stop. 

◊ You’d be pleasantly surprised from how long Kokichi can hold out for. 

◊ He would torture Shuichi by riding his soft overstimulated dick, as you rid Shuichi’s face, 5 orgasms in. Shuichi would be crying and wincing from the violent bouncing on his oversensitive dick.

◊ If they are both in the topping mood, they’d fuck you from both holes until you were trembling. Those times being your favourite. 

◊ Yes, you had a limp for the next few days, but it was worth it.

◊ During the rare times Kokichi tops, he enjoys being called master.

◊ If you or Shuichi refuse to call him that, oh ho ho, you’ll learn to regret it.

◊ Sooner or later, you’re both screaming master desperately; You two looked like blubbering idiots with tears running down your faces.

◊ Sometimes, if Shuichi decides you two have been bad enough, he wouldn’t let you two cum for a week. He’d just fuck you until your orgasm came up and pull away to finish himself.

◊ But if you beg hard enough, Shuichi might take mercy on the both of you. 

◊ After some spankings, of course.

◊ I think Shuichi would’ve been a soft dom if not for Kokichi’s consistent teasing. Causing him no choice but to put that brat back in his place.

◊ At first, you would think he’d be a hard bottom because of his timid personality. However, when it comes to Kokichi, he just goes feral.

◊ If you decide to be a brat too and act cold as if you didn’t want him to fuck you stupid yeah right, he would insert some sense into you, making you think again.

◊ You would be easier to break than Kokichi, for Kokichi he would have to pound him until he was a blubbering, whimpering mess.

◊ Though Shuichi is a brat tamer and enjoys punishing both of you, he is a bit of a softy. 

◊ He constantly tells the both of you how good you two are doing when fucking your brains out. He has a praise kink, receiving and giving. It gets him going when he hears you tell him how good he’s drilling into you, like I said, his love language is ‘words of affirmation.’

◊ He calls you a good girl while he calls Kokichi a good boy during sex. He enjoys being called good boy as well.

◊ At first, he is a bit nervous during sex. But when he hears the moans coming out of the both of you, his demeanour changes. He feels more confident when he knows you’re both enjoying it. 

◊ I head-canon him to have an aural kink, the sweet noises he pushes out the two of you being his favourite song.

◊ Once you were all satisfied, Shuichi would switch to concerned mom mode after riding the both of you through several highs(if he topped). 

◊ He would clean up the both of you before himself, making sure to be gentle, as to not cause any discomfort. 

◊ If Kokichi topped, he would just pass out on the bed with you two, too tired to move. He decided to shower with you all once you all woke up.

◊ if you topped, you would cradle the both of them and praise your boys for doing good, kissing their puffy faces(from crying), letting them use your breasts as pillows.

note; i added some new things, did you notice it? ›:) again, i apologize for the wait, i have tons of request to do(which i’m actually pretty happy about)! i worked hard on this, so i hope you enjoy it!

edit: fuck did I make this too long?

[kiwi-the-first]

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower. 

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded. 

��What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love. 

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

--

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore. 

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

--

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

 He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze. 

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today". 

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

--

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too" 

Huh?

Oh- 

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would. 

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself. 

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

--

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since. 

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his. 

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth. 

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies. 

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you. 

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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:)