#how else would he have figured it out about the bear when he was razor focused (adhd) on the camera and the transmitter?

[badgerhuan]

Mitsurugi took the bear and went to find Itonokogiri, and they investigated the origins of the bear together.

In Saraba, Gyakuten (Farewell, My Turnabout), Itonokogiri helps Naruhodou and Harumi figure out that Fujimino's hotel room had been planted with a spy camera. And then, he decided to help by investigating the origins of the camera, to see if they can figure out who bought it. It might take all night, but he's determined to do it, and promises Naruhodou that he'll have the answer by morning.

After he leaves the room, fired up about his new task, the following happens:

Harumi: But. Keiji-san, is such a nice person. Harumi: For Mayoi-sama's sake, pushing himself that hard... ???: ...though the way he's going about it is completely reckless. Naruhodou: (...that voice...!) Mitsurugi: Excuse me. ...I overheard you talking. Naruhodou: ...Mi-Mitsurugi...!

Mitsurugi appears, cutting in at just the right time to comment on Itonokogiri's behavior, with a smile on his face.

After he informs Naruhodou that a taskforce has been assemble to find Mayoi, Mitsurugi then goes to check on the bear, commenting that it's a rare, high-class brand that only a few gets imported to Japan. He checks the time, commenting that it's not too late. He then takes the bear from Naruhodou and leaves.

Naruhodou and Harumi leave as well, furthering their own investigation into Fujimino's murder. It's not until much later that Naruhodou suddenly gets a phonecall from Itonokogiri.

Itonokogiri: It's not good! Itonokogiri: I'll...I'll be back at the office soon! Naruhodou: Wh-what happened- Itonokogiri: Something unbelievable has happened! Itonokogiri: Mitsurugi-kenji was, uh... Naruhodou: (Mitsurugi...?) Itonokogiri: Anyway, hurry and come back! Itonokogiri: I, don't know what's what anymore! It's bad! It's finished! I am- Phone: ...beep... Naruhodou: ...huh, he got cut off.

Itonokogiri's call gets cut short in the middle of his panicked ramble. It's as if someone had hung up the phone for him before he could spiral too far. Also, he lets slip Mitsurugi's name before seemingly catching himself.

When Naruhodou and Harumi get back to the office, this is what Itonokogiri greets them with:

Itonokogiri: You're too late! Mitsurugi-kenji already left!

We know from the start of the phone call that when he made the call, he wasn't at the office yet, and there seemed to be someone else with him. And now, he's talking as if Naruhodou would've been able to also meet Mitsurugi if he had come back to to the office sooner. This would imply that up until Itonokogiri got back to the office, the person who had been with him the entire time is Mitsurugi.

And, most decisively, Itonokogiri is not only carrying the camera and transmitter he took from the hotel room, but also the bear and all the items related to its investigation. When Naruhodou asks him about the bear, he says:

Itonokogiri: I met with the clerk of the department store. Itonokogiri: This is the credit card receipt. Itonokogiri: ...38000 yen. That's exactly the cost of that bear. Naruhodou: ...receipt...? Itonokogiri: Of course, it's not just the receipt. I also got the clerk's testimony. Itonokogiri: "I'm sure I sold it to Outorou"...that's what they testified. Itonokogiri: On top of that, it seems that the clerk also got a signature. Itonokogiri: The one who bought the bear, is definitely Outorou!

Not only does Itonokogiri say that he met the clerk, he was also able to quote the clerk directly. This proves that he definitely has met the clerk in person.

After this, Itonokogiri gives Naruhodou back all three pieces of evidence he had on him: the camera, the transmitter....and, the bear, which he had somehow came in possession of.

In conclusion, what we can infer happened:

Mitsurugi overheard the entire conversation about the spy camera and the transmitter in the bear, and saw Itonokogiri rush out of the hotel room, razor focused on his new task: finding out who bought the camera.

Mitsurugi knew, instantly, that as much as Itonokogiri's determination was in the right place, that that search would be a fruitless one. So he went into the room, commented with a smile that Itonokogiri was being reckless, and immediately went to confirm that the bear was as rare as he thought it was.

Once he was sure, Mitsurugi hauled the giant ass bear with him, and went and found Itonokogiri, somehow. He could've left Itonokogiri running around the city looking into the camera all night...but he didn't. Instead, he looked for him, found him, and gave him the bear and told him to look into it, steering him in the right direction.

Together, they headed to the department store and found out who bought the bear. Upon learning the disturbing truth, Itonokogiri called Naruhodou in a panic, and before he could spiral too far, Mitsurugi intervened and hung up the phone for him.

Then, together, they made it back to Naruhodou Law Office, with the bear and the receipt. After making sure everything was in order, Mitsurugi left before Naruhodou came back.

Even when they're not working together anymore, even when Itonokogiri had been fired, even when Mitsurugi has no obligation to Itonokogiri anymore, they still went and found each other. Still worked together. They fall in step with each other so naturally. I doubt either one of them even thought twice about it.

bonus, when Mitsurugi says that looking into the camera would be fruitless, he says:

"The camera that the hasty keiji-kun took with him is no clue."

I need everyone who hasn't played the game in Japanese to understand, that Mitsurugi only ever uses "-kun" for people younger than him. And the only other person he's used the "occupation+kun" combination to refer to is Naruhodou, as bengoshi-kun, in the courtroom, whenever he thinks Naruhodou is being naive. This is the only time he's ever referred to Itonokogiri as such, and 1) at this point, Itonokogiri isn't a keiji anymore, and 2) he doesn't say this within Itonokogiri's earshot.

He's unable to stop thinking of Itonokogiri as a keiji (which is, in Japanese, very specifically a police detective), and he doesn't let Itonokogiri hear this half-affectionate nickname that he knows Itonokogiri would understand as an insult.

bonus 2, before Mitsurugi leaves the hotel room with the bear, Naruhodou stops him:

Naruhodou: Why...? What on earth are you planning! Mitsurugi: ............ Mitsurugi: I'm not interested in explaining myself to someone who can't understand.

He doesn't explain anything to Naruhodou, knowing he wouldn't understand. This would imply that whoever he does tell about the bear and what to do with it is someone he knows can understand him.

Itonokogiri has always been able to understand him.

And he personally saw to it that Itonokogiri is the one to figure this out and deliver Naruhodou the news.

[deepsix-writing]

Fix You. Chapter 1 of 5. (BEGINNING)

After the events of Marble Hornets, Tim is left to pick up the pieces of what is left of his old life. One piece in particular has him haunted.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

When Tim had first seen the hooded figure lying motionless on its back after falling off the balcony, he'd thought, good. Another puppet of the Operator down… one step closer to putting an end to this nightmare. He hadn't realized it was, instead, the beginning of an entirely new one.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Never had Tim known the sound of a dial tone so well. His devotion to that voicemail inbox was as a priest to his god; He knelt in prayer morning, noon, and night, begging and pleading with whatever force it was that looked down on him from heaven to let him hear his best friend's voice just one more time. Steadfast in faith, he never stopped calling, never stopped hoping, even as the seasons changed and he did too. Even as the police came in search of missing persons, and went when they found nothing, Tim remained. His razor collected dust in his bathroom. A beard as thick as his misplaced hope had cropped up on his face.

The investigations had been particularly difficult for Tim, especially when detectives had shown up on his doorstep. For Brian's, he'd easily been able to shrug them off and convince both them and himself that the college student must have been off visiting family out in the west, or enjoying a break from classes by the coast. It was summer, and the benefit of the doubt was his seldom hope. He called Brian's number and let the voicemail play for the police once, then a million times more for himself after they were long gone.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Then came Alex's. The film student had worked up a track record of unexplained disappearances already (something Tim relayed to the cops word for word), but Tim didn't have much else to say about him. The man had already painted the walls of Tim's mind with a noxious crimson; he couldn't bear to lose another shred of his regards to him. The detectives said they would keep in touch with Tim if they discovered anything new, and they went on their way. Tim let the sound of Brian's canned voicemail message fill the empty space in the meantime.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't.'

Time marched on. Tim marched on. In the mornings, he took his medicine, listened to the voicemail, and afterwards he went to work. Admittedly, the job he worked was a crappy one, but it was the first he'd managed to hold down in years. It would do. Tim would keep to himself and do just enough to get by until he was let off in the evening. Stopping by a gas station for cheap junk food on the way home was a mandatory part of the routine; he would do anything to prolong the inevitable sight awaiting him in his apartment.

He wades through the garbage of his overgrown and messy apartment after he wedges the door open and carefully locks it back up again. It is welcome procrastination for when he makes it to his bathroom and looks in the mirror. When he looks at himself, all he sees is blood.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message…'

His god is dead. Tim isn't sure how long he's been praying to a corpse, but now he's able to smell the rot. It fills his nose and makes it hard to think. When he looks in the mirror, all he sees is death.

A tidal wave of blood replaces the ringing in his ears. He grips the edges of his sink. He stares down a murderer. A brutal killer that single-handedly delivered the end to all of his closest friends. People who'd had rich lives and bright futures ahead of them.

Alex's last moments replay in his mind. His hands, the same ones that had gone white with how tightly he gripped the countertop, were the ones he had used to stab the film student in the throat and the image would never ever fucking leave him. Over and over, again and again until Alex was coughing and hacking and drowning in his own blood. The sound of a punctured windpipe was not one he would ever forget. The scene had smelled like metal and victory at an impossible cost. His hands had been stained red ever since.

It was a microscopic change, one Tim hadn't noticed at first, but he was certain the skin on his hands was a shade redder than the rest of his body. No amount of hand-washing or showers or even bleach would fix it, and no one at his crappy job had known him long enough to see the change like he did. But Tim knew. Tim could hold up his hand against his face and be able to tell. His hands were cursed by a near-transparent shade of crimson, and any time he looked at them, guilt burnt a hole in his stomach. His anxiety would be remedied with another replay of the voicemail that never changed.

It had taken Tim longer than he could proudly admit to figure out what that had meant for his former friend. Combing through Jay's online archive of footage to find out exactly who the hooded man was had taken even longer. It was like watching his brother's last moments on video after finding out he'd died the same night. In comparison, the voicemail was like hearing the voice of his patron saint.

Tim's faith dies in the middle of the night, when he lies in bed with a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other. The device is perched over his head, shining down on his face as he calls Brian's number, listens to the voicemail, and hangs up.

'Hey. It's Brian…'

It's a neurotic dance he repeats until his eyes grow tired and he's just on the verge of sleep, and then…

"Uh, hello? Who is this?"

Tim dropped the phone on his face before he knew how to react. It fell in the crevice between his side and the bed, and it took him a frantic moment to wrench it out.

"Brian, Brian! Holy shit, are you okay? It's Tim. It's me, Tim! Are you okay?? What, What happened–"

"Woah, hey!" Tim realized it wasn't Brian's voice. "-I'm not – I just found this phone on the side of the road earlier. It's not mine."

Then it set in. Then something withered inside him. When his lips moved, it was a miracle.

"…Where on the side of the road?"

"Oh, just by Rosswood Park. So are you friends with this Brian guy? He probably wants his phone ba–"

Tim snapped his phone shut and never called the number again. Sleep did not come to him that night, and in the next few weeks they were as lovers on thin, frayed ropes. Circles as dark as his guilt weighed down his eyes. Thoughts he'd put behind himself years before came running to catch up with him.

Tim was dead. His hope was a flickering candle that had been tossed into the ocean. It hadn't stood a chance. He hadn't stood a chance. He only knew of one thing left to do.

He found that one thing in his car keys and in his drive to Rosswood Park and in the loaded handgun he'd stuffed in his pocket. He parked his car sideways in the lot overlooking the forest. The front end of the car dipped past the painted dividers, and usually he'd hate it when people left their cars parked like that. Every time, Tim would grimace and regard the sight as a result of the driver lacking common decency. But in that moment, it was the last thing he could have ever thought to care about.

It was funny, how one simple piece of knowledge had changed Tim's entire perspective on life. He had decided that morning would be his last, and just like that, the world had flipped on its head. The rising sun was brighter, the morning sky was prettier, and his bed had been warmer. He even felt like cooking a meal for himself that day.

Tim went to the store after showering and dressing himself in his cleanest clothes. He bought just enough ingredients for this one recipe, and he even bought dried rosemary. It came in a little glass bottle, and was a dollar and sixty cents more expensive than the store brand spices he usually bought. Every time before, his eyes had passed over it. He'd excused the idea of buying it despite seeing it as an ingredient in countless recipes because it wasn't worth it, the dish would taste just as good without it, it was a waste of money. But when he used it to cook his last meal that day, it was like finding the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle he'd tried to put together years ago. It was the best food he'd ever tasted.

In the park, the birds chirped like an orchestra catered to Tim's ears. It was late fall, and the golden hues of falling leaves orbited around him. Before he joined the barren trees ranks, he sent a text to his former manager. Dead men can't work.

For a dead man, his feet were sure and steady. He knew exactly where he was going: the same place he'd died once before. Its once pristine white walls were peeling, and it was covered in graffiti now, but it hadn't changed any more than Tim had.

At the hospital, Tim had learned how the world worked. You start out whole, and every time the world beats you down, it takes a piece of you. With every friend he'd lost, Tim lost a chunk of his soul. And when he'd killed Alex, he'd lost a bigger chunk than he could have ever anticipated. Tim knew he wouldn't have enough of himself left afterwards to survive losing anyone else.

He'd always tried to find those pieces. It was the only reason he hadn't split town the moment he'd had the chance. Tim's eyes had always been full of stars and the against-all-odds hope that one day he could find those pieces again. Or maybe, he'd thought, he could find them again in someone else. But that someone else was gone, now.

Whatever pieces that had left him had rotted and decomposed. They nourished the soil that crept up from the floor of his old hospital room and grounded the lichen that hung from the ceiling. Time could put the very foundations of the room to ruin and Tim would still feel the years he'd spent locked away here like the ache in his feet from walking all this way.

It was as fitting a place as any to die. Tim envied his younger self: back when his mind was his biggest problem, and not his actions. As he closed the half-hinged door and trailed his hands along the peeling paint of his coffin, he hoped and prayed no adventurous teenagers would come and run into his body until the next summer, when wild animals had taken the pieces of him that would be left behind. He didn't want this place to harbor any more trauma for anyone else. He would end that legacy here and now.

Tim pulled the handgun from his pocket. It was warm from resting against his thigh. He brought it up to his chin, then thought better and let the tip of the barrel press against his temple. But it felt wrong. Too dramatic, too highschool. The warm metal slid to the center of his forehead instead. But he couldn't grip the trigger as well, he started to think that instead he could-

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tim assumed it was the dead man's manager, replying to the dead man's lukewarm resignation text. But why not read a dead man's phone while he still could? He let the gun rest against the side of his head as he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

'Hey. I know it's been a while since we've talked and you're probably pissed at me (understatement I know) but I need a ride. Really really need a ride. I'm supposed to be gone by 4, so if you could be here by then, I'd owe you my life.'

The text was from a number he didn't recognize and was accompanied by an address for some place in downtown Tuscaloosa. Tim was just on the verge of clicking his phone closed, excusing it as meant for someone else, when the unmarked number sent another message and suddenly there was no air in his lungs.

'This is Brian btw. Lost my old phone.'

Tim's grip on the handgun's trigger turned to wrought iron in his surprise, and a loud BANG made the last piece of himself jump out of his body. His ears didn't have enough time to stop ringing before both his phone and gun clattered to the floor. His fingers shot up to his head and he felt dizzy when he pulled them back to reveal blood.

Tim fell down on his ass and suddenly there was a fire in his body that burned hotter than the pain in his head. He wanted - no, needed - to stay alive. Even if that text wasn't actually from Brian…

No, it had to be. Needed to be. Tim brought his hands back up to his head, clasping his temples and crying out in relief when he realized his skull was still intact. Blood and heat still poured from his head, but he'd managed to isolate the unknown injury to a graze mark along his left temple. It was enough to sting like a bitch when his fingertips met the open wound, but wasn't deep enough to reach the bone.

It was the second most profound miracle of the day.

The third was how he'd managed to get back to his car without anyone seeing the state of his face, and fourth was the first aid kit he had stuffed in his car. He'd bought it impulsively about a month after he'd started listening to Brian's voicemail recordings, just in case he ever ran across his old friend on the side of the road on his way to the store or work. He had always held out hope for that man.

Tim checked the clock. 3:24pm.

The address from the text message had to be at least twenty minutes away. Shit.

Tim's work of patching up his temple through the foldout mirror in his car was sloppy, and no neater was he when he stuffed his handgun into the glove compartment and jammed his keys into the ignition. The ringing in his ears was the only accompaniment to his wild thoughts as he sped down the road to meet the man behind the text that had given him a new lease on life.

The address turned out to lead to a neat little building just a few blocks from the not-abandoned, non-psychiatric hospital in downtown Tuscaloosa. The sign out front seemed medical, but through Tim's stinging temple and his racing thoughts and the fire in his gut, he couldn't read past 'rehabilitation'. Tim pulled his car into the lot by the front doors and his parking job is just as crooked as it was in Rosswood Park's lot.

He's about to leave the car, but confronting whatever lies in wait for him suddenly wrenches his heart back to the park. His head lurches and he is in his bedroom with his phone, hearing the stranger's voice through Brian's number.

A cigarette would help ease his nerves, he's sure, but a sign by his car advertising a 'smoke-free facility' discourages him. He settles with rolling down his window and alternating between resting his arm on it and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It's an ineffective compromise.

Tim looks at the front of the building through the film of grime on his windshield and watches as people filter in and out of the front doors. Some are in crutches, others have casts. All are accompanied by medical staff in clean uniforms, all accompanied by smiles and kind, encouraging words. Tim wonders which of the staff fake their smiles, and which of them see their patients as less than human. He averts his gaze as he locks eyes with one of them, too scared he'll find thinly-veiled hatred for him, too.

When a skinny figure in a wheelchair exits the building with a nurse by his side, Tim does not make the same mistake of not recognizing his best friend. He is bumbling along the paved concrete at a snail's pace, struggling to get the wheels to move smoothly. The chair goes sideways every other inch he advances, but his clothes are clean and he is smiling.

He is smiling. Brian is alive and well and smiling and Tim is launching himself out of his car without so much as turning off the engine. Brian says something to the nurse and laughs and only has a fraction of a second to throw his old friend a surprised glance before Tim snaps up the space between them like a greedy animal and holds him tight. His arms squeeze Brian with no mercy until an awkward chuckle from the man threatens him to burst.

"Gh - uh. Happy to see you too, man." Brian's words are choked out through strangled breaths. "I'd hug you back, but uh– ok. I can't breathe."

Tim relents only a moment later when Brian starts wheezing, and when he peels himself away, his hand still lingers on Brian's shoulder. Wayward priest, meet your angel. Here to reunite you with your maker.

Brian is glowing, at least in Tim's mind. His clothes are cleaner than he's ever seen them, and even as Brian says something to him that he doesn't make out, he's smiling. It's that same stupid, cheeky grin he'd wear whenever he'd tell cheesy puns and jokes to Tim in highschool. Those upturned eyes that always looked towards the sun and would exchange glances with him that said a million words regarded him now with joy despite it all. The same fiery passion in his gaze and ice water in his veins was there now, even now that Tim had completely blanked out on his words.

"Uh… Tim? You alright?"

Brian's voice carries all of the same, and Tim is undone. A weight melts off his shoulders, but something holes itself up in his throat. All he can manage is a nod.

Brian exchanges a look with the nurse and looks back at Tim. Then, he laughs. The sound is a fire that burns away Tim's fear and anxiety and gives way to a giddy feeling he can't remember the last time he'd felt. He moves a hand up to wipe his face and sniffs. He hadn't realized how wet his face had gotten.

Then, he smiles back. He isn't sure if his words will hold, but he tests the waters anyways.

"I missed you, Brian."

I thought you were dead. I mourned for you. Grieved for you as if I'd watched the soul leave your body with my own two eyes.

"I missed you too, Tim."

Brian just smiles. And it's more than Tim could have ever possibly hoped for.

[imaginedisish]

Two Weeks (Din Djarin x Reader)

Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 coming soon)

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is my first chaptered Din Djarin x Reader fic. I’ve got big plans and I hope y'all like it. Requests are still open. Bruce Wayne x Reader coming next!!! Thanks y'all!!! Enjoy :) (also this is gonna be based on Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear but each chapter will have it’s own name after this)

Summary: After running away from Luke’s training, Din is tasked with bringing you back to him. What neither of you anticipated was the connection that would come with being stuck together for two weeks.

Warnings: Eventual smut!!! So imma put an 18+ warning just to be safe. I don’t think this is going to be too slow of a slow burn (like I’m talking smut by the next chapter or chapter 3 so...), canon violence, implication that Din got another Razor Crest bc im lazy, creepy/sexual harassment-y Twi’leck, and my favorite: the one bed trope muahaha.

Word Count: 3,605

The holobooks glow a cerulean blue, illuminating the dimly lit shelves that stretched on for what seemed like miles. The library was unsettlingly quiet, too quiet. The silence gave you more than enough time to drown yourself in your own thoughts. 

You can’t help but go over that last conversation you and Luke had shared just two months ago. It plays over and over again in your head, tempting your brain to split open with guilt. 

“I’m not picking a side,” You shouted, storming towards the X-Wing you intended to take from Luke.

“But by leaving you are,” He insisted. “You’re giving into your fear, your hatred, your emotions.” His voice was stern, yet calm. It annoyed you. How could he possibly be so collected at a time like this?

“No!” Your shout was now a scream. “Leaving isn’t the same thing as picking a side.” You could feel your throat closing, growing hoarser with each syllable. “I’m done being an apprentice. I’m done serving someone else!”

And with that, you left.

You knew you had made the right decision, but you still felt undeniably guilty. You didn’t want to hurt Luke, but you needed to save yourself. You wanted to go down your own path, to make your own choices. 

After all, you had spent the first fifteen years of your life with the Empire. You’ve never known the full story, but you were apparently kidnapped by the Empire before you could crawl. They knew you were force sensitive, and so you always assumed you had come from some powerful Jedi Knight. Once kidnapped, you trained under Vader as an apprentice. While it was in small doses, you had brought out the light in him. Then, the Rebels found you during the Battle of Yavin, and took you in.

So, when Luke began training you, he was shocked to see that you already knew an abundance of Jedi skills. He realized that whatever was leftover of Anakin Skywalker had trained you. However, your Sith training was still certainly prevalent. But because of this, you felt as though you could use both sides of the force comfortably. You tried to explain to Luke that you found balance in using both the light and the dark, but he refused to understand.

Luke often treated you like you were something that needed to be cleansed, like something that wasn’t enough. He immediately forced himself into the traditions of the Jedi. You, on the other hand, knew that would be a mistake. 

You decided to steal the X-Wing and fly to Nevarro. You sold the ship and found a job as an archivist at a brand new library on the planet. Things had been going well, but today you simply couldn’t stop thinking about your past, about Luke. You could feel something coming, something that was connected to-

Suddenly a shiny figure covered in Beskar approached your desk. You swallow harshly, immediately sensing that he isn’t just here for the books. 

He’s here for you. 

“C-Can I help you?” You stutter. Your eyes flash under the desk, checking quickly to ensure your sabers are still there. Although, they aren’t quite yours. One was your father’s — whoever that was — and the other was Vader’s. Luke had given you your father’s, while you found Vader’s in the destruction of the Second Death Star. You never told Luke about it. 

“I’m looking for a Jedi,” The Mandalorian’s modulated voice snaps you back to reality. You know he means you, even though you don’t consider yourself a Jedi. You reach your hands out and attempt to discreetly force pull the sabers to you. 

You fail completely, as one knocks over a paper weight and a canteen of water before flying into your hands. 

“Guess that’s you,” He states matter-of-factly. 

You leap over the desk and sprint into the stacks, igniting your sabers in the process. The blue and red beams reflect against the gray marble floors, your boots pounding with each step you take. 

You look behind you, noticing that the Mandalorian is gaining on you. His armor clatters as he closes the space between the two of you. 

You concentrate your energy, bending down into the floor, and leaping up, bouncing from shelf to shelf until you reach the top of a bookcase. You look behind you again, and the Mandalorian is now climbing the shelves. You pause for a moment, knowing that he isn’t going to make it up as quickly as you did. 

“Who sent you?” You question as he continues up the case. 

His gloved hands finally reach the top. “A mutual friend,” He says, his voice a bit strained through his helmet as he pushes himself up. 

You point the red saber towards him as he stands just a few feet away from you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask, swallowing the fear in the back of your throat. “Because if so, you can fuck off. I’ll kill you before you can take me back to wherever you’re stationed now. I’m not going back,” You can feel tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. “I-I’m not going back,” You say again, stuttering. 

The Mandalorian takes a single step towards you, slipping his blaster back into its holster. He puts his hands in the air, “Maker, no, I’m not with the Empire,” He takes another step towards you, and you slowly lower your saber. “It’s okay,” He breathes. Despite the helmet, you know he’s looking into your eyes. He can feel your pain. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

You close both sabers, still clasping the hilts tightly in your hands. “So, then who sent you?” You press, apprehensively closing the space between you and the Mandalorian. You feel as though you can trust him. You can tell he isn’t here to hurt you. If he was going to, he certainly would have already.

“Luke Skywalker,” He finally admits. “He asked me to bring you to him.” 

You scoff, shaking your head as you turn away from the Mandalorian. “No kriffing way am I going back,” Your voice is callous and coarse. You sit on the edge of the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the shelf below.  “He couldn’t even come get me himself,” You whisper, looking off into the distance. 

The Mandalorian stands next to you, and that’s when you sense something else. 

You look up at him, his armor glimmering in the blue light, and see a little green figure peeking through the brown sack around his waist. You smile softly, instantly feeling the force coursing through the little creature. 

“Who’s this?” You ask, reaching out towards him. The little guy reaches towards you too. Before the Mandalorian can stop him, the child falls into your arms. “The force is strong with him,” You say as you scoop him up. 

“His name is Grogu,” The Mandalorian remarks, snatching the child back. He reaches a hand out to you, “But now isn’t the time for introductions. I have to get you back to Luke.” 

You breathe deeply through your nose, sighing audibly as you exhale. You take the Mandalorian’s hand and stand up. “I’ll go with you on one condition.”

“I don’t negotiate with bounties,” He states nonchalantly. 

You roll your eyes. “The condition is that you bring me back here once I’m done talking to Luke. I don’t intend to stay with him for more than ten minutes.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, pondering your proposition. Finally, he nods. “Fine,” The Mandalorian huffs. “But then my condition is that I’ll do some bounties on the way, and you’ll stay on the ship with the child.” 

You arch your brow and shake your sabers. “You want me to stay on the ship? The wanted, force sensitive, Sith Lord-Jedi?”

The Mandalorian chuckles softly. For some reason you can’t quite place, your heartbeat speeds up at the sound of it. “Maybe I’ll think about it,” He says, walking away from you and jumping down from the bookcase. You follow closely behind him. 

“What’s your name?” You ask as you head towards the doors of the library. 

He doesn’t answer right away, as if he’s unsure of how to respond. “You can call me Mando,” He says finally. You nod. 

Mando. 

You grab your cloak from one of the hooks in the foyer of the lobby, and swiftly put it on. You lift the hood over your head, ensuring that you stay at least somewhat hidden, and exit the library.

—————————————————————————

After a mile or two of walking, you and Mando come across a cantina. He stops in front of it, carefully grasping his blaster. His visor looks down at you, and you meet his gaze. He’s heeding a wordless warning. 

But you didn’t need any warnings. You could handle yourself. 

You nod once and Mando presses a button that opens the door. You walk into the dark bar, music blasting from the speakers. 

“So, what are we doing here?” You ask, your eyes searching the cantina. 

Mando nods over to a corner booth. “You see that Twi’lek sitting next to that guy?” Mando asks, and you nod. “He’s coming back with us, whether he likes it or not.” 

“How do I help?” You question, moving your cloak to the side to grab your sabers. Mando reaches down to your hand in response, his gloved fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“Not like that,” He says, his grasp still firm on you. You can’t help but notice the contact, the closeness. “Go sit in that booth over there,” His voice is barely audible as he points to the booth a few seats away from the Twi’lek. “And take the kid,” He says, pulling the bag off of him and handing it to you. You wanted to roll your eyes at the lack of importance in your job, but the cuteness of the kid quickly makes you happy to be of service. 

You head over to the table and sit down. Grogu wiggles out of the bag and into your lap. A feeling of safety washes over you as he makes himself comfortable, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Grogu is attempting to communicate to you that his father isn’t as bad as he appears to be. 

And you’re quick to believe him.

It’s clear that the child loves Mando, as Grogu fills your mind with images of the Mandalorian going above and beyond to save him, putting him above all else, sacrificing his own happiness just so Grogu can live a good life. It makes your heart warm. It gives you a certain feeling, a feeling you haven’t felt…

Ever.

“I get it little guy,” You whisper to him, rubbing his head with the fist of your hand. He coos and giggles as you squeeze him closer to you. 

But those feelings of safety and comfort and warmth turn into nothingness the second you feel a hand grip your shoulder tightly. 

You whip your head around to see another Twi’lek. “Can I help you?” You snarl condescendingly. 

The Twi’lek chuckles. “That’s no way for a woman to talk to a man who’s interested in her,” He answers. You roll your eyes. 

“Interested in what about me, exactly?” You question, placing the kid in the space next to you. “In getting your ass kicked?” Your voice is firm and growing louder with each word that leaves your lips. 

He brings his hand up to your chin, lifting it up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. You grab his hand in response, trying to pry it off of you, but it’s no use. “You need to learn how to behave yourself,” He growls. You contemplate force pushing him off of you, or reaching for your saber and chopping him in half right here, but you know that would ruin Mando’s bounty, and it would blow your cover. 

“Let me go,” You demand, your eyes searching the room for some sort of escape. There was nothing you could do without giving up your spot. You look over to the other booth, attempting to catch Mando’s attention. You can hear the child screeching behind you. Your heart pounds in your ears. “Please just let me go,” You’re begging now. You don’t know what else to do. 

The Twi’lek scoffs. “Not happening. Not until you learn how to-,”

Two blaster shots ring out, and the Twi’lek immediately jumps back in fear. 

“You kriffing touch her again and you’ll end up like your friend here,” Mando says, holding up the lifeless body of the bounty. “I should kill you for just talking to her,” His voice is commanding as he closes the gap between himself and the Twi’lek. 

You grab the child and pull him into your chest. You can feel his fear, and you’re sure he can feel your own too. “It’s okay,” You whisper. “I’ve got you now.” Mando watches how you’re caring for Grogu out of the corner of his eye. Something stirs within him, something he can’t quite place. 

He storms over to you, bounty in tow, and grabs your arm. His gloved fingers once again find their way to your wrist, and he guides you out of the cantina. 

Just behind the cantina is a ship. You figured Mando had planned that whole thing out. Dragging a bounty for miles on end doesn’t exactly sound like fun. Regardless, you wanted to forget what had just happened. You had been through enough for one day, never mind an entire lifetime. 

“What kind of ship is this?” You ask, trying to make conversation. Mando’s grip on your wrist tightens, and he stops in his tracks. 

“You just almost got killed, or…” He trails off, looking down at the ground. “Or worse, and you want to know what kind of ship this is?” His voice is no longer strong or confident, it’s shaky and unsure. You’re shocked at how much he cares for your wellbeing. Even inside the cantina, something had come over him. No one, including Luke, has ever shown so much care for you before.

That’s when you feel the tears pricking at your eyes. That’s when you finally register the weight of what tonight’s events could have meant. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You stumble around your words, staring down into the orangey-tan sand coating your gray boots. 

Mando shakes his head, his arm moving up to rest on your shoulder. He rubs softly and breathes deeply. “No, don’t apologize. I’m being too hard on you,” He whispers. “Are you alright?”

You nod once. “I think so,” You reply, settling into his touch. It’s relaxing, warm, and you’re enjoying it far more than you should. You don’t know what it is, but there’s something endearing about him, something that lures you in and keeps you hanging. You want to hold onto the feeling, to keep it in your pocket and wear it around your neck whenever you can. 

He keeps his hand around your wrist while the other pulls the bounty along as you walk up the ramp together. He drops your wrist and yanks the bounty over to the carbon freezer. He makes quick work of the Twi’leck as you look around the ship. In the corner, underneath the cockpit, is a single bunk. Your exhaustion makes the makeshift mattress look extra comfortable. You could fall asleep standing up, to be honest. 

Mando finishes with the now dead bounty and stands by your side. You hand him the bag with the kid in it. He peers inside and catches a glimpse of a sleeping Grogu. You hear him chuckle through his modulator and you can feel that feeling again, that feeling that makes your heart want to burst. 

You smile softly. “So how long am I going to be a burden on you,” You joke, your smile widening. 

“Two weeks,” He says plainly. 

For some reason, two weeks didn’t seem long enough. 

Mando’s visor meets your gaze again. You can’t help but yawn, your exhaustion thoroughly catching up with you. 

“You should get some rest, we’ll be on Tatooine tomorrow,” He says, his voice equally thick with tiredness. “My bunk is down there, you can take it.” 

You furrow your brows. “What about you?” You ask. You really were going to be a burden on him. 

“I’ll take the cockpit,” He says back, pointing over to the uncomfortable looking chairs at the front of the ship. 

You shake your head. “We can share, it’s fine,” You insist. But Mando doesn’t listen. He walks towards the cockpit. 

“Maybe,” He finally responds, “But for now I’ll stay up here. I have to put in the coordinates and get us on course anyway.” 

You nod. “Goodnight,” You whisper, your voice coated with fatigue. 

“‘Night,” Mando whispers back as he takes his seat. You do as he says and waddle down into his bunk. 

Normally, something like this wouldn’t seem comfortable to you, being that the mattress was probably no more than two inches thick and the blanket was incredibly thin, but you were far too tired to care. It felt like heaven just to lay down, so much so that you drift off to sleep before Mando can even take off. 

—————————————————————————

There’s lightning, and a hooded figure. You can see Mando and the child on the other side of whatever platform you’re on, maybe on a rock somewhere off in the distance. Your sabers glow in your hands. You try to run towards the figure, but you’re stuck. You can’t move. 

The figure reaches out their hand, and force lightning pours out from their fingertips. You drop your blue saber and extend your hand out, electricity shooting from your fingers with twice as much force. Your eyes glow a threatening, dark yellow.

You scream out as the hooded figure fights back, increasing his force, stepping closer towards you. 

“The Mandalorian and the Child are mine now,” He says, his voice cold and cruel. 

“No!” You shout. “N-“

“No!” Your eyes open wide as you push yourself up on your forearms. You practically smack your head on the roof of the bunk. You’re shivering. You can’t tell if it’s just the temperature of the ship, or if it’s a product of the nightmare you just had. 

But that wasn’t just any nightmare, it was a vision. You had never seen that place, that planet before. And the pain you felt, it stemmed from a place, a feeling you just haven’t felt yet. 

Love, true love.

You can hear the clunking of metal above you, and seconds later, Mando appears at the entrance to the bunk. 

“Are you alright?” He’s panicked and practically shouting. 

“Y-yeah,” You mumble. “Sorry if I woke you, it was just a nightmare.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but you figure he isn’t exactly ready for the truth just yet. 

After all, you did just meet. 

“Are you sure?” He presses. He isn’t buying it, and he’s completely right not to. 

You sniffle and stir a bit under the covers. “I think so,” You lie again. You weren’t sure at all, and you certainly weren’t ‘alright’ in any capacity. 

Mando sighs heavily through his modulator. “Do you want to talk about it, cyar’ika?” 

You were shocked at how kind he was being. He could be so tough, so cold to his bounties. “What’s that mean, cyar’ika?” You question, trying your best to change the direction of the conversation. 

“That’s not what’s important right now,” Mando says, dismissing your question entirely. 

You smirk, attempting to convince him that you’re okay. “I’m fine, I mean it.” 

Mando nods once and begins to slip out of the bunk. But as he leaves, you begin to regret telling him you were fine. His proximity to you had made the pain go away, just for a moment. Now you were back to being anxious and cold. Genuinely, you were freezing. You must be in deep space by now. You were more than positive that you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep like this. 

You groan, embarrassed to call him back just as you had kicked him out. “Mando,” You call out. He’s back within seconds. “Can you…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Would you…” It’s impossible. 

“I’ll stay with you.” 

It’s like he can read your mind. 

He strips off his armor, save his helmet, and slips in next to you. He brushes up against you for just a second, and practically pulls away instantly. 

“Maker, you’re freezing,” He says. Suddenly, you feel his arm slowly wrap around your waist, hesitantly pulling you tightly against his chest. “Is this alright?” He asks. You’re too stunned to speak, so you simply hum a yes. 

After a few minutes of lying like that, with your back up against his chest, you begin to feel better. Still, you can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re a burden to him, like this is something he has to do. You’re supposed to be powerful. You were a Jedi, a Sith, and yet a Mandalorian is being forced to take care of you. 

“You don’t have to stay, you know. You can go back to the cockpit if you-,”

But he cuts you off. “I told you I would stay.” And so, he did.

Two weeks, You think to yourself. Two weeks.

And then you drifted off to sleep, without nightmares, without visions.

Just like yesterday

I told you I would stay

Would you always?

Maybe sometimes?

Make it easy?

Take your time

[adultish-momma]

Shiny New Toy

An alternate, smarter, and most importantly, a funner way to deal with the Leech twins in Book 3.

Warnings: Beyond potential Book 3 spoilers, I really didn't think I'd have to put any warnings down for this fic. But nope, now I need to make it clear that there is a bit, a very small bit, of blood and violence. It's fairly vague, but I still want to make sure people are aware.

A/N: I was brainstorming ideas for the fics I have planned, I named this one, and then it just... unfolded in front of me. Man, I don't even feel like I wrote it. Floyd and Yuu took control of my body and now we all get to bear witness to the results. I'm not even mad, it barely follows my original plan, but the vibes I wanted to convey came across so all in all, success.

Psst. I'm tagging @dandelionwhisp because I know you're coming back soon and I want you to have a present waiting for you, as a reward for surviving such a long flight. Hope you enjoy it!

Something barrelled into the twins, spinning the two eels away from each other. Neither Leech brother had been prepared for the attack, as this came from behind them. Floyd was first to reorientate himself, snapping his attention back to the first years with a furious growl. Whatever was stupid enough to hit him circled his opponents once, twice, and then came to a stop next to the little seal.

It seems as if everyone present paused to assess the newcomer. Well, not exactly new per se, because they were pretty sure that was Yuu. Like, at least 90 percent sure the Ramshackle Prefect had joined the fray.

Grim seems to have thought it would be best to confirm it, just in case.

"Oi! Henchhuman! Is that you? Since when do you have a tail!?"

"You like it?" they asked, giggling despite the tense situation. "I think the colors turned out so pretty." They did a quick twirl in place, letting the sunlight filtering through the coral sea catch on their new bronze scales. They noticed the Leech twins watching them, specifically a certain eelmer's eyes fixated on the reflecting light of their tail. They didn't even try to hide the smug grin that slipped on their face.

Looks like this plan might work after all.

"Oya, what a surprise this is". Jade as always, has a tight lid on his emotions and reactions. The only telling part about him is that sleazy smile he has, the one where his mouth is open just enough to see his razor-sharp teeth.

"Shriiiimmmpppyyy", Floyd whines, an undercurrent of something dangerous in his voice. "Who knew you could be so cute and shiny! Makes me want to give you a big ole squeeze!" His signature sing-song lilt betrays how eerily still he has become. For someone always in motion, fidgeting and shuffling when bored and animated when excited, the merman has become tense in his stillness. Like a coil before it snaps.

Like a predator ready to pounce. He just needs a small push.

"Well I figured if there was a potion that can turn you boys human and give you legs," Yuu begins, nearly simpering, a spark in their eyes that Jade recognizes. "Then there must be a potion that could turn me into a mer and give me fins." The Prefect gives another flick of their new tail, and Jade can see his brother inch a little closer.

Yuu notices the movement as well. They might not have serrated teeth like the eels, or the same malice in their smile as Azul, but even the little group of freshmen agree that the grin they flash Floyd is downright shark-like.

"So if you want to squeeze me, you're gonna have to catch me first".

Before anybody else can react, Yuu swims off, away from the museum, speeding like a bullet shot from a gun. Jade reaches out to stop his brother, but he's only able to graze the end of his tail, Floyd chasing after the Prefect. The calmer twin sighs heavily, moving to follow, but is shocked for the second time today when a magic attack actually manages to hit him.

"Ha! Take that you overgrown sushi! The Great Grim has more of that where it came from!"

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

There had been a few close calls already if the superficial scratches near their flukes were anything to go by. For his part, Floyd couldn't decide if this was the most fun he had in a while, or if this was the most frustrating thing he'd done in ages. The Prefect was newer to their fins, a strong swimmer for sure but nowhere near as fast as Floyd. But they were smaller than the natural merman, darting into coral tunnels that he just couldn't fit through. What was supposed to be a straightforward chase has turned into a convoluted game of hide-n-seek.

At least Floyd wasn't the only one laughing in delight.

This was incredibly fun for Yuu. They'd always been comfortable in the water, a strong swimmer naturally. And while they could let loose athletically on land back at NRC, nothing is ever as comfortable and exhilarating as racing through the water. So distracting Floyd had turned into a near cathartic experience, the first time since waking up in this world where they truly felt like they could just be.

Plus, they're pretty sure being a merperson is ticking off some childhood dream checklist.

"Gotcha Shrimpy!" Eventually, Floyd had been able to grab them, causing a startled scream to escape their lips and a manic cackle to escape his. "That was so much fun! But now I can squeeze you as hard and as long as I want since I wo-on"

"Alright" they agree, a little breathless as he begins to wind his tail around them, just tight enough to border discomfort. "That's fair. You did win our game of chase."

"Hahaha!" The eel lets out another series of excited laughs, accompanied by a sharp squeeze. "You're so cute if you thought you could beat me".

Despite wanting this, despite planning every part of this undersea excursion, including letting Floyd capture them, Yuu can't help but stiffen at the feeling of his very sharp, very dangerous, teeth dragging across their neck.

"Jade's always been the patient hunter" Floyd chuckles, reveling in the Prefect's discomfort. "But I've always been more active when catching prey."

One of his clawed hands ghosts down their body to where scales just begin to crop up, the delicate things glinting bronze and copper under his inspection. Suddenly, the human-turned-mer feels a sharp tearing sensation, watching as a small trickle of blood floats into the water surrounding them. Floyd holds up the scale he stole, a lazy smile on his lips and wide, dilated eyes.

"And admittedly Shrimpy, I've always been a sucker for shiny things."

"I thought so. Hey, speaking of Jade, I wonder how many hits the guys have landed on your brother now that he can't rely on your Unique Magic." Floyd stiffens, tightening around Yuu enough to force the air out of their lungs. But then he loosens, more than likely aiming to untangle himself to go help his brother. But the Prefect suddenly latches onto him, winding their arms tight around his body and locking their arms behind his back. Where his tail had uncoiled around them, now that wrap their tail around him, trapping him for just a few minutes longer.

"Poor Jade, abandoned by his brother because you just couldn't resist a new shiny toy." Floyd snarls, gnashing his teeth at the Prefect, but they just laugh, squeezing his tail a little tighter.

"Little Shrimpy tricked you!~ You fell for it hook, line, and sinker."

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried.��

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[nemeseos-noctua]

Hello! It's nice to see a new genshin impact writer! I saw requests are open, and there's two I have in mind (if it's ok with you): One is for Razor, Albedo, Xiao, and ganyu (possibly Aether if you can) wherein Reader is scared of love. Like, they're scared of opening up and love someone in fear of rejection or being tossed away. But yet they still daydream having someone who'd love them making it more obvious how much they want to love despite their fears anyway--

With this information, how will they confess to Reader about their feelings? Or comfort/console them?

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: albedo, xiao, ganyu, (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: reader has a pyro vision, albedo and xiao story spoilers in their parts

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: srry for cutting some characters off!! the character limit is 3! (but personally i would write for aether hehe hes so cute i love him)

you just so happened to have a quest in dragonspine

you did not expect to see fatui—especially not fight them

and... you did not expect to get ganged up on! what is this? a bully session? what the heck?

Among the brawn and burly figures of the Fatui members, you didn’t fail to notice a streak of blonde and dazzling blue from a distance—your eyes widening as you prayed to whatever archon would dare to listen...

Please, please don’t be another stupid enemy. You thought with a grimace, your heart pounding in your chest as you could hear a voice—it was calm yet strong, like a endless waterfall or a river creek.

“Burst forth!” 

In a matter of seconds, a geo flower emerged from the earth, your form being lifted up on the tiny platform as shards of crystallized rock formed under you, nearly stabbing you in the gut.

Who? What? How? Who was this stranger? This vision-wielder?

Wasting no time, you plummeted down on a nearby Fatui—deeming this geo-user as ‘safe’, you summoned your own flames, charring the crystal snow black as you wrapped your arm around the blonde, barely taking any time to observe his features.

from then on, you never expected to grow close to this mystery man

turns out he was the chief alchemist of the knights! you weren’t personally associated with the knights... but being chief alchemist certainly was a grand title, right?

with the use of your pyro vision, you helped accompany—albedo—you learned his name was

at first, the two of you were just exploration buddies. but as time went on, butterflies began to form in your stomach, nervousness seemed to peak when he was around

love was like a poison—you knew it’d hurt, you knew it’d kill you to have a drop—

but you wanted it. you wanted love, you wanted to be held by albedo and to twirl his silky hair around your fingers...

but—would he want you?

You wanted to love Albedo so badly.

Yet you knew, you couldn’t. The alchemist just wasn’t the type for love, he was not the type to give kisses or reassurances, nor was he the type to confess with a rose in his hands.

It wouldn’t hurt to dream, though. 

The thoughts you had before you slept were of him, of how pretty his eyes were—you couldn’t even pinpoint a color for it. Sometimes, they were blue, sometimes, they were teal. 

With every shooting star that’d zip past the sky, every eyelash that’d fall and every fire that’d be lit with the palm of your hands... you hoped for a love. A love so grand it’d outshine the sun, a love so grand it could make you forget the past and undo the pain of before.

But, in the depths of your mind, in the wings of the butterflies that’d flutter in your stomach... you knew—

Albedo did not love you. 

albedo initially thought of you as a torch lighter.

LOOK, HE IS A LOGICAL AND RESOURCEFUL MAN. he does not see the world with a rosie-colored-lens like how many others do—he sees it as the facts

and with your pyro vision? combined with dragonspine, ooh, please... ain’t that a match lighter?

but as time went on, he started to see you in a new light

you were knowledgeable, you respected his views and even contributed sometimes! you were no prodigy of alchemy, of course, but you were well-versed in combat and oftentimes knew how to navigate dragonspine

(he asked you how you knew dragonspine so well. all you told him was “Pain”)

but... albedo is observant. he’s definitely aware of your feelings and nervousness, how you get overly sweaty near him and fumble on your words

it’s then he realizes—he likes you too

love is a foreign concept to him, uncharted territory and an unexplored region. of course, as an alchemist, it is up to him to discover the unknown

and love—love is unknown

how could one possibly dedicate their entire life to another? albedo always questioned this notion, for humans were free beings that wanted nothing more than to break free of their shackles

and yet—the moment the alchemist met you? all of those questions flew out of the window

he wished... he wished to love you. but to him, it looks as if you do not want to love him

It’s frustrating, really.

How Albedo would brush over your hand mindlessly, how he’d hand you an object and let your fingertips meet for two seconds too many, how his cold yet soft lips would curve into a smile upon seeing you return from your endeavors.

Why? Why? Why? Why did he do this? Was he aware of the way he made you go crazy? 

You wanted to love him, so so bad—but—

“[Y/N],” Albedo’s voice seemed to pierce through your thoughts as if he had heard them.

“Y-Yes?” You turned immediately, the rush of your heart not calming a bit, the nervousness of your leg that bounced up and down as a remedy that you wish didn’t have to be so obvious.

Averting his eyes from yours, you missed the pixie blush that dusted the tip of his ears. He was not aware of your insecurities—but he was aware of one thing.

That—that he liked you... a lot, in fact.

“Recently...” Albedo started, clearing his throat anxiously before continuing, “I have started to develop some... feelings, for you. It is okay if you do not reciprocate, but it feels wrong to think about you in such a light when you are not awa—“

“Yes!”

You winced.

And then, everything seemed to crumble. Was he talking about someone else? Was there someone behind you? Was this a mindless prank? As it had been all those years ag—

A hand rested on your cheek, bringing you back to reality with the mere touch of his fingers.

albedo... in all of his intelligent prowess... was not expecting for you to say yes

in the public, he is a genius— a prince, a prodigy, even. but to him, he is but a failed student who is trying his best in completing his master’s final orders:

find the meaning of life

what is life? life is broad, life is different, life is... well, life.

at first, albedo had assumed that his master was talking about living life, as in plants or animals.

but now—with you, with klee, with mondstadt, with everyone. 

the chief alchemist seemed to realize:

life, life was in you.

life brought joy, laughter, pain, excitement, happiness—

and sometimes, even love

“But Albedo I—“

“It’s okay, [Y/N]. Though I am not personally aware of what seems to be troubling you, I will do everything in my power to assure that you feel comfortable with me.”

Life was short, Albedo noted. 

So—he wants to enjoy it.

—With you.

xiao does not fear rejection, but he does fear love

how pitiful... for a guardian yaksha such as him to fear such a trivial matter

love—love was scary. love could take control of him like how he was manipulated in the archon war, love could tug his arms and move him around like a puppet

he, adeptus xiao, did not want to love

but then, you came in. and it frustrated him tremendously. you were but a mere mortal, a fleeting life that came into his eternal one. you were someone who he did not deserve

and yet, he loved you

so much, so so so much, he can’t bear it. he can take on all those karmic binds, all those whispers and hatred—yet he cannot bear the love he feels for you. he cannot bear the way his heart races or leaps whenever he sees you, he cannot bear you

but—his heart does not like the fact that you feel the same

you had told him before, one night, a few months ago... you told him how you were afraid of love

you were afraid of getting tossed away, of being forgotten like the fallen archons in war, like a side character in a play of fontaine

and all xiao could do was scoff. whoever dared to throw you away would meet his spear, his rage. he could not fathom a world where you were hated, where anyone would dare to reject you—because, because—

you were his world, regrettably

Pacing up the stairs of Wangshu Inn, you ignored the gross feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin.

“[Y/N].”

Jolting up, your eyes met with that of the Guardian Yaksha—his piercing gaze and unwavering strength eyeing you down as if you were a pest.

“You’re going to get sick. Your mortal body cannot withstand such weather,” Xiao scolded, and on cue, a flash of light zipped through the air, the deep rumble of thunder following soon after.

Observing the way you flinched at the noise, Xiao merely wrapped an arm around your waist, teleporting you to the top of the inn and into your room.

“Dry up. I will return with soup,” The adeptus waved off your nervous gaze. He was not stupid, he has seen mortals succumb to sickness, and he hopes that you will not be one of them.

but as he heads to the kitchen, he cannot help but notice—notice the fact that you seemed to be... uneasy around him

was it something he said? was he perhaps too harsh with you? you of all people should know his words mean well, though...

and ugh, here it is again. the feeling of love that made even him overthink the smallest of things

yet after he brought you some soup and got you into bed, the question still ran around his mind like a halo. did you hate him? was this sickness bringing out your true thoughts?

well, yes and no

“Xiao...” You quietly murmured, wincing as the winds picked up inside your room, materializing a certain Yaksha out of thin air.

“What?”

“I’m sorry...”

“...?”

Rushing up to you, Xiao immediately placed a hand on your forehead, worried that you were on the brink of death.

“I’m sorry for liking you.”

“... What?” His eyes widened in disbelief, in shock. Sorry? Why were you sorry? Did you regret liking him? Was that why—

“I know...” You trailed off, in a drunken state of sickness, “That you don’t love me. But that’s okay. I just... wanted to let you know... because I’m afraid you’ll say no... but if you say no, I can at least move on...”

Staring at you fiercely, his breath hitched in his throat. No? No? He would never say no to you, ever, ever.

“Don’t move on,” Was all he could muster. 

Don’t. He wasn’t ready for love, no, he never was—but—

He did not want you to leave. 

This action of sickness was finally a catalyst, a catalyst for Xiao to confess to you properly when you were in the right state of mind.

And hopefully—when he does, you will say yes. 

xiao only confesses because he does not want to lose you

his karmic binds, the whispers, the screams. he does not want you to get tainted by them—so he is selfish, he is selfish for loving you and confessing to you... but he, he cannot bear to see you go

a double-edged sword, love is. it stabs his heart, skewering it as if it were nothing. it plunges his mind, clouding his thoughts as they fill with you and only you

can’t he just indulge in this fluffy feeling, once?

no—he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you.

Under the rising stars and floating lanterns, the two of you sit. It is an unspoken love, you both share, it is an unwritten rule that paints the back of your minds like a canvas of colors. 

But love—is love. Love is the rainbow that forms in the sky when the rain is over, love is the sun that shines, washing away all of the coldness of the world.

Love is you.

ganyu feels... alone

so when you come into her life like a prospering glaze lily, she wants nothing more than to love you!

but you, confuse her. she is 100% sure you return her feelings, so why do you not seem to be... excited, about it?

To an immortal like Ganyu—love changes. At first, love was for the world, but then it shifted for mankind, and then it moved to... you.

She was no strange to love, in fact, she welcomed it! Ganyu wants to feel as mortal as possible, so when you stumble in and make her fumble for words—she knows she has fallen.

Like a meteor or a person—she falls for you. Everything reminds her of you, every flower and every bird makes her want to talk to you and spend her time with you.

But lately—you have been quite... reserved.

at first, ganyu thinks she is the problem. that she has done something wrong and she is a terrible crush

but then, she hears rumors. rumors about your past loves and how they rejected you mercilessly, how they played you like a marinette doll and caused you pain

to ganyu—that is the lowest any mortal could ever go. but for now, that is not her problem. she wants to help you, to make you realize that you are deserving of love and that you—you make her feel love

she—of course, does not confront you about this directly. ganyu is far too experienced to bring up past conflicts

but, she will subtly make you realize her feelings. with morning and night walks around liyue harbor, with hangouts and ‘dates’ at liuli pavilion...

love... it’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?

“Ah, the food here is certainly marvelous,” Ganyu gushed, enjoying a nice plate of jade parcels as you spared a smile.

“Yes, thank you for this, Ganyu. I know you work a lot and—“

“Of course, [Y/N]. Everyone needs breaks,” The woman returned your kind gesture, eyes crinkling in amusement as your heart pounded so loudly in your chest.

“In all honesty, [Y/N]. I feel quite a connection to you, and though I am aware you are hesitant— I just wanted to let you know that you are loved... by many people, not only me,” Ganyu rested her chopsticks down, making complete eye contact with you as her blue hair framed her face. The black and red horns that adorned her head glimmered—the kindness and delicate features of her nose and lips, her eyes and smile—

Your breath hitched.

ganyu—of course— does not expect an answer right away!

in fact, she thinks it’s quite unorthodox to confess to someone who is afraid of love—but her instincts told her it was right

it was abrupt, she knows. you don’t have to say yes, she knows.

but still, love was a game of chance—just as gambling, betting, anything. love was a game for two

so she took it. she took the chance, hoping that maybe you, you’d say yes.

“I...” You trailed off. You didn’t know Ganyu returned your feelings, neither did you ever imagine she could... Ganyu was half-adeptus, a caliber above you and your mortal-ness! Why would she ever think of you as anything more tha—

“Do not be afraid, [Y/N],” Ganyu’s voice was gentle as she soothed you. She had been here before, she had seen you cry out of a yearning for something you couldn’t have, she had seen your heart shatter and your mindset retract.

“I... like you too,” You responded, you felt light-headed, like you were soaring in the clouds that not even Celestia could bring you down.

Love, love was a gamble. And sometimes, you’d get your heart broken, your soul broken...

But love—it wasn’t so bad after all.

― constellations!

[aminiatureworld]

Disappearance

Characters: Diluc, Razor, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,133

Warnings: Slightly claustrophobic

Premise: The line between small upsets and huge quarrels can be a blurred one, and it’s often difficult to cope with in the aftermath.

In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Thank you for your request anon. I really cannot stay away from angst, and this was right up my alley. Poor characters, how I love to torture you.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to write Razor, he isn’t in my list of characters I’m comfortable with. For one thing I find his broken speech quite difficult to deal with. I can’t tell if I find it irritating or not, or if it’s an example of good characterization or the “savage” stereotype a la Tarzan – sorry Tarzan I don’t like you. But I tried to make the effort and I hope it came out well! Though I still don’t feel quite comfortable with writing him. I hope I handled the dialogue well enough. He makes me think of San from Princess Mononoke.

Diluc

Diluc accelerated his pace as the Winery came into sight, his normally serene face breaking into a small smile.

It was the best time of day, the time when he came home, the time when he could finally see you. The two of you had been a couple for about five months, and though it wasn’t the longest of time, it was certainly the happiest Diluc had been, happier even than when he was a child with a family to call his own. You were his family now after all, something that you reminded him when he was in his darkest moods. You were his family now, and nothing could tear that apart.

“Welcome home.” Your voice was warm with happiness, and you threw your arms around Diluc the moment he came through the door. Diluc reciprocated the embrace and for a moment the two of you simply stood in the landing, the picture of perfect happiness.

“I’ve missed you, beloved.” Diluc whispered.

“I missed you too.” You replied, smiling softly. Your smile slipped however, and was instead replaced with an expression of worry. “You were gone so late tonight, I was unsure if something had happened to you. Really, I was about to go after you.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” Diluc replied, tone firm though not unkind. “We’ve talked about this before my love, if something were to happen to me, which it won’t,” he quickly added, seeing your gaze cloud over, “but if it did I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger. I fight for you as much as anyone else in Monstadt, and for you to be injured or worse on my part, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“I know we discussed it and came to that conclusion.” Your words were slow, deliberate in tone. “But though I agreed to it then, I found tonight that I regretted it more than anything I might ever do. I cannot bear the idea of you somewhere near, hurt and crying out for help or worse…” you swallowed, unwilling to conjure the image to mind, “…I couldn’t bear thinking that you might be in a bad way and with no chance of rescue simply because I made a foolish promise. And while I was thinking about this all I came to the realization that I could never truly keep that promise. If you’re ever in need I will be there for you, no matter what. No matter what you said, what you think, it is the simple truth.”

“Please don’t do that.” Diluc replied, voice quickly becoming filled with emotion. “If there’s something out there that could hurt me like that, then how –” he paused, realizing his mistake, but you’d already caught it.

“How could I possibly defeat it?” You replied, a grimace replacing your smile. “You cannot treat me like glass Diluc. I’m an adventurer, a warrior in my own right. And I won’t be kept from saving the one I love the most, not when the only thing keeping me from it is his pride and a few words.”

 The two of you said nothing more of it that night, but the argument hung in the air the next morning, continuing the awkwardness up until you left for your adventuring duties. Diluc did nothing to breach the gap. He was in the right after all. And besides, it was such a stupid little argument, barely one at that. In a day or two it’d be nothing, and then all would be well again.

This conclusion was sorely tested when you didn’t return to the Winery in the evening. As Diluc prepared himself for another night of patrol he began to worry slightly. Surely you weren’t avoiding him. About something so small? No, most likely you were simply late. You’d be there when he got home. If he was sure of anything he was sure of that.

Unfortunately Diluc was proven quite wrong. The doorway was empty at his arrival, you were nowhere to be found. A sinking feeling began to settle into his stomach, and Diluc found himself quite unable to sleep that night, instead tossing and turning this way and that, wondering if you were truly so angry over something that he’d seen as so small. It was the only logical explanation for your disappearance after all, though Diluc wasn’t sure what to do about it. Chasing after you seemed somewhat uncouth, and besides didn’t that always make things worse? No, he’d give you space, all the space you needed. If a week passed then he’d seek you out, but before then he’d let you be. No point in jeopardizing the relationship anymore than apparently he already had.

His promise to stay away for a week was nearly torn to shreds by the end of the next day. Were you truly so angry with him? How could he have hurt you so much? Diluc didn’t know what to do. During the day he tried to behave as always, keeping tabs on everything he could and busying himself as much as possible. At night, however, the feeling became more and more unbearable, and Diluc found sleep more fleeting than ever.

He kept replaying the argument, over and over again did he try to remember exactly what had happened. Was your tone of voice angrier than he thought? Was your expression darker? Had he been too curt, too dismissive, too demanding? What could’ve possibly caused you to simply disappear? It was unlike you; usually what arguments took place resulted in you trailing him more than anything else. Why was this so different? Turning onto his side once more Diluc closed his eyes. Tomorrow all would be well. Tomorrow you’d come back for sure.

You didn’t come back tomorrow, nor the day after that. Those days were some of the most anxious Diluc had felt since the immediate passing of his father. Work became unbearable, for words that one stood clearly on the page now swam before him, a sea of incomprehensible figures and symbols. Eating and sleeping too were utterly alien to him, and what those two days were mostly comprised of turned out to be him walking about in a stupor, too dazed and too worried to think about anything around him, anything other than you.

On the fourth day a knock came to his door, and with it came Katheryne of the Adventurer’s Guild. Her face was ashen, and she was fiddling with her hands. As Diluc gestured for her to sit down the anxiety that had been sitting in his stomach tangled itself into knots. What in the name of the Seven had happened?

“Master Diluc, we have some information, information involving your partner.”

“Yes?” Diluc’s voice was sharp and low, for he couldn’t bring himself to hide it. Collapsing into the opposite chair he tried to prepare himself for the worst, knowing that if you had left or, Seven forbid, been killed he’d never be able to move on.

“Well you see your partner, they went on an expedition, a commission rather. They were looking for bits of Noctilious Jade and Cor Lapis. Although these minerals are normally found in Liyue only there are a few reservoirs in Monstadt along the border of the two lands, specifically they can be found in certain caves behind the waterfalls that flood into the river. A merchant bought the rights to the land of one of those caves and, being a merchant, he couldn’t get it out himself, so we sent one of our own to mine it out for him, see if it was any good.”

“This is all quite fascinating,” Diluc replied, tone made sharp with worry, “but I can hardly see what this has to do with anything.”

“Your partner was the one selected. They went down to mine it but the entrance was the opening to a sharp drop and they fell down. We only managed to recover them this morning.”

The shock that ran through Diluc was something that he never wished to experience again. It seemed to pierce right through him, into the center of his heart. You’d been trapped. You’d been in need of help, stuck for days in the worst of possible situations, and he’d done nothing but loaf around the Winery. How could he forgive himself for something like that?

“May I see them.” He choked out, his throat constricted and burning.

“They are coming here right now. Thankfully injuries were minimal. Caves connected to water are the most dangerous kind, you can die and it can be impossible to retrieve your corpse. They were incredibly lucky.” And with that gruesome thought in mind Katheryne walked over to the door, opening it to reveal you.

Diluc had never moved so fast in his life. Instantly you were wrapped in his embrace. You returned the gesture just as fiercely, clinging on as if he was the only thing anchoring you, keeping you from collapsing from relief, from fatigue, from the terror that had yet to dissipate.

“Oh my love, oh I’m so sorry, so deeply sorry. Forgive me, forgive me for not being there. Forgive me.” Diluc whispered, practically incoherent. You were both shaking, and when you two collapsed in the chair closest to the fire there were no words for a good many moments. The terror you’d both felt was hardly over, and you both needed to be sure that this wasn’t a dream, that it was all over, and that you were going to be fine now.

“Diluc.” You finally whispered.

“Yes my love.” Diluc replied, a tremor still in his voice. You leaned into him, head perched on his shoulder, breath tickling his neck.

“I never want to quarrel again.”

Diluc reached over to cup your face. Raising your head slightly he leaned over, brushing his lips against yours, indulging in something he thought for a moment he might never be able to do again.

“Neither do I.” He replied, voice just as soft. “And remind me never to try to restrict you again, for if I’d not been such a fool I would’ve run to your side the very evening you were trapped.”

You smiled softly, expression conveying relief and tenderness and most of all love. Leaning in for another kiss you whispered something right before your mouth collided with his.

“I will follow you wherever you go.”

 Razor

Sitting at the edge of one of Wolvedom’s many cliffs, eyes trailed towards the far away walls of Monstadt, Razor wondered if he might’ve been too harsh.

It wasn’t that Razor wanted to quarrel with you, I mean you were the first and only person that he’d managed to build a sincere connection with. It was only that he’d grown up with a complete distrust of humans, and as much as he tried to bury that aspect of himself it still came to the forefront at times.

“I don’t understand what you’re so angry about Razor?” You’d exclaimed, face twisting into an expression of annoyance.

“Why do you like them?” Razor had replied, gesturing towards the people who had arrived with you, trampling their way through the forest as if everything belonged to them simply because they were human. He could practical smell the arrogance wafting off them, and it made his hair stand on edge. It was frustrating that he didn’t have the words to convey that to you.

“My guild members?” You’d said, glancing over your shoulder. “Razor I work with them. We’re going on a trip.”

“I want them to leave.” He’d practically growled, moving to take your hand in his. “I want them to leave, I want you to stay.”

“Well you can’t do that Razor.” You’d said, tone growing more and more exasperated. “And I don’t understand why you’re so hostile to them.”

“They’re human.” To Razor this was enough, but evidently the answer was hardly satisfactory to you.

“I’m human.” You’d pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Razor shook his head.

“You’re different.”

“No, I’m not. You just like me. And like it or not I’m a human, and a human who has a job to do. I can’t stay here, and I can’t stop talking to all other humans.

“Why not?” He’d shot back. “It would be better. Humans are bad creatures.”

“You keep forgetting who I am!” You’d exclaimed, shaking your head. “Whatever, I’m not arguing this with you. I’ll see you in a day. I hope that you can think about my feelings by the time this is over.”

Well the day had come and gone and there was no sight of you. Razor was too angry though to feel much remorse, no matter how much he missed you. You were probably busy anyways, talking to other humans, fraternizing with the enemy. For what else could humans possibly be? They cut down trees, killed the inhabitants of the forests. Even the wolves weren’t safe, for what farmer hadn’t taken a shot at one of them at some point in his life? No, Razor was not the one in the wrong. You were just too used to them. You couldn’t see it.

Still your absence sat wrong with him, and he found himself scouring the edges of Wolvendom the next day, trying to figure out what had happened. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know what he thought after all. And surely you wouldn’t abandon him so quickly, surely.

Razor was hardly so sure when the sun went down the next night. It seemed you were well and truly gone, though where he couldn’t tell. Maybe you really had decided to abandon him, decided he was too much of a burden, decided you preferred humans anyways. The thought ate at him, and he found himself walking around with a bitter taste in his mouth, unsure what to do.

Razor wasn’t sure what finally caused him to cross out of Wolvendom to look for you. Perhaps it was anger, perhaps it was guilt, perhaps it was that he at least wanted to say goodbye. No matter the cause however he still found himself walking on an unfamiliar path, as the woods shifted to plains. He felt vulnerable, uncomfortable without his familiar family. But it was too late to turn back now, and so he pressed ahead.

All sense of discomfort faded away upon running into you. You looked the worse for wear, covered in dirt, your clothes ragged. For a moment Razor wondered what could’ve possibly caused this. Perhaps there was a creature out there he was not aware of. Running up to you he wrapped his arms around you.

“You’re hurt.” It was more of a question than a statement, and you seemed to understand that. Returning the hug you sighed slightly.

“I was stuck in one of the shallow caves off of the Stormbearer Mountains. The passage we went through started crumbling, and I was the last one in line. It took some time to dig me out.” You laughed slightly, but there was a tremor in your voice, and you seemed ill at ease. “It was so dark in there Razor, so utterly dark. I couldn’t imagine being a creature down there, it all seemed to weigh down on me, and I thought it’d collapse and bury me at any second.”

Razor had tightened his embrace, the image seared into his mind. There was a visceral fear in his reaction, the fear of what you’d just described, but it was more complicated than that. To be down there himself was terrifying, but for you to be in that situation, and for so long, it stole the air from his lungs and weighed him down with such a sense of dread he could barely stand it.

“Humans sent you down there?” The tone of his voice was seething, but your reply was much calmer than it had been before.

“Yes. They did. But they also saved me Razor, you must remember that.”

It was something he hadn’t considered, and as he pulled away to look you in the face he pondered the implications. What he’d said was true, yes, but what you’d said was also true. They could’ve quite easily left you if they wanted, could’ve left you for dead and said there was nothing to do about it. Certainly some humans would’ve done just that, but they didn’t. Instead they helped you, for days they had dug, and thanks to that you were safe.

“I was wrong.” He said, tone straight, for it was a fact. He was wrong, at least about your people he was wrong.

“There are many evil people out there.” You said, expression pensive. “There are those who kill and rob and lie and think only about themselves. There are those who cannot see the world around them. But you can’t judge all of humanity by that. There are also those who care for every aspect of the world they can, who burden themselves with all the misfortune they see, so much it might break them. Humans are complicated Razor. So yes you were wrong, but I cannot say you were completely so.”

Razor said nothing, absorbing what you’d said. It was hard not think in black and white, something necessary sometimes for survival. But ever since you’d entered his life he wanted to try to understand you, even a little bit. And, especially after today, he’d do anything to make that effort a reality.

For though he understood little of humans and their ways he knew of one thing for sure. And that was the love he carried for you.

 Xiao

Looking back it was such a stupid argument. Of course all arguments seemed idiotic looking back after what happened. But if all arguments were stupid, then surely Xiao couldn’t’ve picked a stupider one to have.

“I wish you’d see me off at the bridge.” You remarked, strapping the last of your equipment into place. You were off to do another commission, something about recording a rare species of lizard and taking photographs of some rare luminous mosses, and once again the topic of goodbyes had come up.

“I’m saying goodbye now aren’t I?” Xiao tone was as brusque as ever, but this time you didn’t brush it off with your usual smile.

“I mean it Xiao.” You said instead, turning to look him straight in the face. “I know you don’t fraternize with people, I know that you consider it a result of the burdens you carry. I know that and I don’t ask you to go and set up shop in Liyue or some such thing. I do ask you though to simply be there when I leave the city. It would mean a lot to me to have you there when I step out into the wilderness, especially when I’m going to be gone for two days. Can’t you do this for me, at least this?” You searched his eyes, expression pleading, but Xiao simply scoffed and turned his head.

“Saying goodbye here should be enough. Besides, there aren’t any people here. Would you really want me to say goodbye surrounded by prying eyes?”

“No one is going to pry.” You pointed out, voice flat with annoyance. “And to answer your question, yes, yes I would like you to be there to say goodbye. I love you dearly Xiao, more than I have ever loved anyone, more than I ever will. But I cannot love you unequally. I don’t ask for much, but I am asking for this. Please say goodbye to me at the bridge.”

But Xiao merely scowled, shaking his head violently. Huffing you turned around, everything set and ready to go.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I put myself through this.” You muttered; stomping your feet ever so slightly, and slamming the door to the room behind you.

 Xiao’s sense of time was usually quite poor. To adepti days were more like minutes, and even months seemed as abundant as grains of sand. One of the things that had most surprised him about starting a relationship with you was how his sense of time was affected by it. The days with you were mere moments, and the days where you were gone dragged on and on, minutes replaced by endless boredom.

This time was no different, instead the feeling was exacerbated. Although the first two days were a blur, made meaningless by Xiao’s irritation over your final conversation, the moment the third day dawned and you were nowhere to be found time ground to a halt, and Xiao no longer became sure of what day it was, sure that a month must’ve passed instead of a few hours. You must’ve been more irritated than he’d thought.

Still the adeptus was full of pride, pride and principles. If you were staying away over something so petty so be it. He’d not be the one going after you, not when he was utterly within his rights. Why should he changed so over the request of a human? No matter how much he loved you a part of him chafed at the idea, and thus he did nothing, instead sulking the days away under the concerned eyes of Verr Goldet.

If he was filled with pride though, there was also anxiety. Day three came and went, then day four, then day five. When day six arrived Xiao’s will seemed to give up, and he spent his hours in a restless sleep, something highly unusual for the adeptus labelled the “Vigilant Yaksha”. It was if you had taken all his strength away, and what remained was nothing but anxiety and his quickly shattering anger. Surely nothing was worth this feeling of being eaten away by poison. Surely.

Night had fallen, and the moon had taken her silent vigil over the land. Xiao knew that he should get up, knew he should go after you. But it was as if he was chained to the mattress. His head was filled with static and he felt as if he were burning up. A headache had come on the moment he’d opened his eyes, and now he found he could do nothing but lay with his thoughts, each becoming darker by the moment.

He recognized the weight of your footsteps as soon as they came into earshot. Bolting up, all fatigue leaving him, he slammed open the door, taking the stairs two at a time until he finally came face to face with you.

If he was expecting something, it certainly wasn’t this. Though there was a smile on your face it was marred by the bandage on your forehead, and by the long gash on your arm.

“What happened?” The words came out in a rasp. “Who did this to you?” The weight had come back, and Xiao swayed slightly, feeling altogether faint, the range of emotions he was experiencing becoming overwhelming.

You pressed your hand to his chest, the other moving to cup his cheek. “No one did this to me.” You said, voice slightly hoarse. “One of the caves I was in collapsed, and I fell and hit my head while running away from the entrance. Thankfully it was nothing serious, and it only took them three days to get me out.”

Three days. The situation seemed torturous. Xiao was a creature of air, the mere idea of being beneath the earth was claustrophobic to him. It was to humans too, that he knew, knew from what he’d heard from Rex Lapis. The idea of you trapped underground, injured and unable to escape, it shook him to his very core.

Taking your hand in his he kissed your palm, silently thanking Rex Lapis and all the other archons for letting you come home. The situation, what you’d gone through, it was all crashing down on him. You were the most precious thing in the world, the one he loved most, the only person he would truly love, in all his years on this earth it would forever be that way. How could he take you for granted? Take your needs for granted?

“I’ll never fight with you again.” He whispered.

“I don’t know about that.” You said, smiling slightly despite it all. “Fights are hardly unheard of after all.”

“I won’t. Not about something so stupid. Not when…” he trained off for a moment, eyes clouding over. “… Anyways I won’t do it.”

“Does that mean you’ll say farewell at the bridge?” You asked, tone hopeful.

“I will.” Xiao promised. “I’ll do anything for you. For you are that which I love the most.” And leaning over to kiss you Xiao made a silent vow that he’d never let you go through anything like that. Never again.

[rocorambles]

Reassurance

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Spanking, Atsumu’s a jealous asshole

Summary: Atsumu annoying Sakusa isn’t anything new, but when the blond setter says something that hits a little too close to home, you’re there to reassure your dark haired lover and remind him that he’s the only one for you. 

Author’s Note: The original request was for reader to have a fwb relationship with Sakusa, but in the spirit of Valentine’s day and desire for slightly softer Sakusa content (although it’s still pretty rough sex OOPS), I have them officially dating in this story. 

Miya Atsumu is a thorn in Sakusa's side, a fact that doesn't surprise anyone on the MSBY Jackals. But usually there's a slight playfulness to their bickering, a taunting smirk thrown in to take off the razor sharp edges of their vicious words that Bokuto and Hinata nervously laugh at and that Meian rolls his eyes at before they all resume practice. 

Not today however and Bokuto grits his teeth as he holds Sakusa back with all his strength, a worried look in usually carefree eyes, as Hinata wraps his wiry arms around Atsumu and practically tackles the fiery setter to the floor, as Meian sternly shouts at both players to calm down, strategically placing himself between their thrashing bodies as they fight against their human restraints and bare their fangs at each other. 

The team adores you and how can Sakusa blame them when he himself fell head over heels for you in a way he never thought was possible? So he just fondly looks on as Bokuto and Hinata look at you with star-filled eyes and ignores the harmless subtle looks Meian sneaks at you when you appear at practices, matches, and team outings. It's harder to ignore Atsumu's blatant leering stares, but the blonde setter never makes an outright disrespectful move other than flirtatious comments here and there, so as irritating as it is, Sakusa doesn't say a word for the sake of the team. 

But today he had gone too far and although it wasn't the first time Atsumu had openly raved about how breathtakingly attractive you are in the team locker room whenever you posted a new picture on social media, it is the first time he has openly denounced your relationship and everyone freezes at the setter's scornful words when he questions what you see in Sakusa. 

Even the team airheads quiet down, but Atsumu continues prattling on about how he would treat you so much better than Sakusa, how you deserve more than some frigid germaphobe, seemingly unaware of the growing tension in the air, the cold fury in dark eyes as Sakusa stares him down. But then he looks Sakusa dead in the eyes, not a hint of a joke in his disdainful gaze, and all hell breaks loose as Sakusa lunges at his sneering teammate. 

Despite how aloof Sakusa comes off as, he’s not completely oblivious to his own reputation and how cold he comes off as to others. He sees the skepticism in other’s eyes when the two of you walk out and about. He hears the doubtful mutterings as people wonder if he’s even capable of being a caring boyfriend. And the worst part of it all is that they aren’t wrong. 

He is irritable. He isn’t friendly. He’s not a great communicator. And the thought of intimately touching anyone had always turned him off to the point where even he himself wondered if he was destined to be alone. Until he met you. 

Women are pretty enough. He can admit that, not a stranger to appreciatively looking at an attractive female who asks him for his signature after a game. But skin on skin contact with a stranger? Holding a conversation about meaningless small talk? Out of the question and dating wasn’t something he even remotely considered as he focused on volleyball and being part of the future Japan National Team that would bring the country its first volleyball gold medal. 

And then you had swung into his life out of nowhere, turning his world and opinions upside down and for the first time he found himself wanting to get to know you better, talk with you. 

It hadn’t been easy, figuring out how to make a relationship work and in his defense, you’re his first girlfriend. But he grimaces when he looks back at the arguments the two of you used to have, the tears in your eyes when you asked him if he even cared about you, were you so disgusting that he couldn’t even bear touching you, the hurt in your eyes when he chose to stay silent instead of tell you how he really feels. And he groans when he remembers how his own damned pride had refused to budge, refused to allow himself to be vulnerable to you, refused to meet you in the middle. 

But when you had come to him, defeated, a slump in your shoulders as you asked him if he wanted to just end things, he had clawed and torn his pride to shreds, love and fear of losing you overcoming his constraints and the two of you began anew, communicating and working together to create a joint journey. It’s an amazing relationship despite the slight spats the two of you still sometimes have, but that doesn’t mean doubt and insecurity don’t brush the edges of his mind every now and then when he feels like he’s failed you as a partner. 

Damn Atsumu and his ability to stick his claws where it really hurts. 

Needless to say, both Atsumu and him are promptly kicked out of the gym after both receiving an earful from Meian about their unprofessional behavior and an affectionate but stern slap to both their heads as their captain orders them to go cool down and start practice on a fresh new page tomorrow. 

And he knows he should take the wise advice, should walk around, maybe jog, let the fresh air calm the turbulent storm inside of him calm before he returns to you, but doubt and uncertainty drag him to your front door and before he can even register what’s happening, he’s pounding relentlessly on the wood until you open it up for him and stare at him with surprised wide doe eyes. 

“Kiyoomi? You’re really early. I haven’t even started prepping for dinner yet-”

Your words falter as you’re brusquely pushed against the wall of your foyer, the front door slamming shut behind your lover and you yelp when lips come crashing against yours, almost painfully so. Bewildered you almost have half a mind to shove him off and have him explain what’s going on, but then he’s pulling away himself, calloused hands clutching the fabric of your shirt tightly, and your chest tightens at the distraught desperation in normally calm eyes. 

“Kiyoomi? Is everything okay?” 

You moan as he kisses you once again, more tenderly than before, but passionate enough that you’re gasping for breath when he finally pulls away and you melt into his tight embrace as strong arms wrap around you and hold you tight to him. 

“I just need you. Now.”

And how could you possibly deny that intense stare as dark eyes pin you down? 

Intimacy with Sakusa is usually premeditated, process-oriented, starting with a thorough cleanse in the shower and both of you neatly folding and piling your clothes safely in a corner before falling into bed with each other. Nothing like this and your heart races as you’re being dragged through the house and literally tossed onto the bed with so much impact you bounce back, only to be held still once more as Sakusa’s hands scramble to remove your clothing, almost tearing your outfit in the process as he haphazardly tosses them somewhere to the side. 

You want to tell him he can relax, that you’re not going anywhere, but before you can soothe him you squeal as you’re pressed against the bedsheets, a mouth hungrily kissing and sucking dark bruising marks all over your neck, your collarbone, body writhing as two hands cover your breasts, kneading and rolling your nipples between dexterous fingers. And suddenly you don’t want him to take it down a notch after all, your hips arching up and insistently rubbing against him in a desperate plea for more that he’s quick to answer by grinding his own groin down against you. 

It’s desperate, pathetic, two grown adults humping each other like animals, but neither of you can get enough of it and you’re embarrassingly close to cumming just like that, lewd moans filling the air as you succumb to the combined assault of his body, mouth, and hands. But you indignantly whine when he abruptly pulls away, shocking you back to attention when the cold air pierces you without his body covering yours. And Sakusa smirks at the way your whining turns into a yelp as he easily drags you to the edge of the bed by your ankles until your legs dangle off the mattress, a glint in his eyes when he sees how you nervously swallow at the sight of him kneeling between your legs, his fingers teasingly positioned at your inner thighs. 

Sakusa has talented hands, a fact that’s well known to anyone who’s a part of the Japanese Volleyball Association, but you wonder if they could ever imagine just how much more multifaceted his gift truly is and you let out a high-pitched keen as he glides two fingers inside of you, twisting his notoriously flexible wrists in a way that instantly has you seeing stars as he reaches and drags against places inside of you that you never even knew existed. You’re dripping and you wince at the lewd slick sounds you hear as he relentlessly explores and ruins you, shyly biting your lip when you vaguely think about how Sakusa abhors the mess of sex, and you make to gently push him away from you, reassuring him that he doesn’t need to go through with this. 

But you startle at the animalistic snarl directed at you, unable to do anything else except slump back down on the rumpled sheets, desperately digging your nails into the fabric surrounding you when he adds a third finger and increases his pace, twisting and turning, plunging even deeper inside of you. It’s overwhelming and you know you’re dangerously close to the edge already, head thrashing side to side as little mewls and whimpers slip past your lips, but then your back is arching, mouth gaping wide open as lips wrap around your clit and you scream as they suck on the engorged bud, convulsing and gushing even more as you dive headfirst into your first orgasm of the night. 

Your body is still shaking, eyes still in the back of your head, but you whimper, trying frantically to ground yourself as a hand firmly grasps your chin and urges you to gaze into dark eyes. 

“Tell me how good that felt.” 

“So good, Kiyoomi. So so good.” 

Your voice is slurred, mouth thick and heavy with exhaustion, but your word are good enough for now and you weakly cry as you’re suddenly being turned over, forced to slump down onto your stomach and chest, arms splayed out in front of you as your face rests on the bed, shaky legs barely holding your lower body up as you’re now forced to stand and bend over the edge of your bed. 

You’re not sure how much longer you can keep this position up, but arousal churns inside of you once more when you take a second to realize the position you’re in, ass and glistening pussy on full display for your boyfriend, reduced to nothing but a pair of holes as you bend over and present like a slut. And you whimper, ass automatically pressing back and shaking in want as hands grab onto your hips and something hard grinds against you. 

Any other time you’d be embarrassed to display such wanton behavior in front of your more reserved lover, but it seems like Sakusa is just as impatient as you and you claw at the sheets, grappling for purchase when he slams balls deep inside of you in one swift motion. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, not that you need much assistance considering how drenched your pussy already is, and you wail as he starts up a brutal pace, fingers digging into your skin as he holds you still while his hips thrust back and forth.

The pleasure is mind numbing and you can feel the sheets underneath you begin to soak with your drool as your jaw remains slack. But you need more and one of your hands slips down between your legs, searching for the little bud at the apex of your thighs, only to be briskly slapped away and you turn your head to complain, only to collapse back down and scream in the sheets as Sakusa swiftly replaces your wandering digits, rubbing and circling your clit. 

Your legs are trembling, stomach tightening as something hot coils and slithers inside of you, body tensing as arousal builds up to a crescendo inside of you, the lewd sounds of Sakusa’s balls slapping against your ass with every thrust echoing throughout. But as you teeter totter on the edge once again, you’re dragged back to the present when a hand sharply smacks your ass. 

“Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You, Kiyoomi! You!”

“Can anyone else make you feel this way?”

You can barely register the words, struggling to make sense of the questions he’s suddenly pouncing on you, desperate for release and being used. But you’re silent for too long and you howl as you’re punished with two more harsh smacks. 

“Answer me.” 

“NO! No one except you. Kiyoomi, please, please, please, please…”

You’re babbling at this point, incoherent wanton ravings of more, please, and Kiyoomi drowning the air, and you think you might start sobbing in pain and denial if he doesn’t give you what you want, willing to degrade and lower yourself to pleading and begging. But Sakusa takes mercy on you, satisfied with your answers, and you gratefully begin to loudly moan again as he chases his own end, dragging you along with him. And all it takes is a few more stuttered thrusts and more coaxing of your clit to have you falling apart underneath him once again, and the clenching and convulsing of your tight soft walls has him tumbling down after you, painting your insides white. 

You really do begin to collapse to the ground this time, trembling legs unable to stand anymore, but strong arms are there to catch you and your body goes limp in relief as you’re gently laid fully onto the bed and pressed against a comforting warm hold as Sakusa lays beside you, letting you nestle further into him and tuck your head under his chin in a way that makes you feel safe and loved. 

It’s a few moments before you can even begin to reassemble yourself, but when you do, it’s your turn to nudge a handsome face into making eye contact with you and you gently pepper Sakusa’s face with soft butterfly kisses as you urge him to finally explain what all that was about, reassuring the guilty and embarrassed countenance that it’s fine, both of you are fine, and everything is going to be fine, no matter what he says. 

You listen attentively, stroking long wavy locks as he hesitantly tells you about the incident in details, scowling and holding your lover even more fiercely to yourself when he repeats Atsumu’s vicious words, murmuring reassurances to him about how you only have eyes for him and even if you ever did leave him (you wince when he glares and bodily wraps around you like a serpent), it sure as hell wouldn’t be for a snot-nosed arrogant prick like Miya Atsumu. 

He loosens his grip on you, appeased by the way you affectionately drown him in kisses and nuzzles as he continues on to recount the rest of the day’s events, but he stares askance at you when you burst into laughter as he tells you about the fight that had almost broken out, that he had almost started, peering at you questioningly and unamused, unsure what you could possibly find so funny about the situation or his atrocious handling of the matter. 

And then he’s full on glaring at you as you relentlessly tease him for his childish impassioned reaction to Atsumu’s bitter words, mockingly cooing at him and fluttering your lashes as you call him your big strong hero, breaking into disbelieving cackles every once in a while when you imagine your mature, level headed lover trying to get into a fist fight over some silly words a stupid brat had said. 

But you’re not laughing when you’re suddenly being pinned on your back again, a surprised yelp forced from you as Sakusa sharply nips your earlobe before irritatedly staring you down. 

“Clearly I didn’t work you over well enough if you have enough energy to laugh and make a fool out of me. Let’s change that, shall we?”

[winchesterxxi]

Urges of the Subconscious (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

Gif by @keanurevees​

Rating: E (Explicit)

Type: Smut

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Stationed in Tatooine for the night, courtesy of Peli Motto, you and Din are forced to share a room. Thinking that it was more than obvious that the two of you weren’t together, you both expected to find two separate beds - that didn’t quite happen. Sleeping next to the person you’ve been having dreams about for a while now leads to some unconscious shuffling closer to each other - culminating in quite the interesting morning.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: One bed trope, SMUT (wet dream, rubbing, blindfold, nipple play/breast play, fingering)

A/N: I haven’t written for Din in so long, god, I missed my favorite bucket-head. This is also a long one because my gears are oiled and working, so bear with me. Also, part 2? 👀

Buy me a Kofi!

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When Din had told you that there was a fault in the differential and exhaust manifold of the Razor, you knew that meant a trip down to Tattooine. You weren’t particularly excited about it – the scorching hot weather mixed with the sandy landscape always made you feel gross and heavy, sensations that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The child on the other hand, at the mention of a need for repairs, cooed in excitement, eager to encounter his adored Peli Motto, who he seems to have absolutely smitten. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it was nice to see the kid being in someone else’s arms without fearing for his life.

Down on the rocky ground in front of her secluded shop, Peli looks up at the shadow that suddenly allocated itself in front of the sun, only to adjust her vision and catch the Razor Crest slowly descending closer, until its landing skids contacted the red ground and the large cargo ramp started to lower itself.

Into her vision came what she secretly nicknamed as “The Space Family”: You, with the baby in your left arm, and the imponent Mandalorian just a couple of feet behind, a gothic painting, some would say one that was slowly making their way towards her.

“We brought the Child!” You amusingly exclaimed, grinning as her smile immediately grew and the child was already trying to wiggle out of your embrace.

“Easy there!” she exclaimed as the child cooed and babbled in her arms, content with the reunion

“How much do you want for it?” she asks you “Just kidding. But not really.”

“The kid’s still not for sale. But I have a few repairs that need to be done.” Din intervenes. You know he isn’t being purposefully stern, but the man could sure use some lessons on loosening up and being able to understand a joke.

“Always a pleasure to talk with you, Mandalorian.” Peli greets with an expressionlessly sarcastic face that falls upon her as soon as she looks up from the child  “Point me in the direction.”

After a close inspection alongside the Mandalorian, they both returned to where you and the child stood before he reached for Peli once again and you laughed at his tiny attachment problem.

“ I can get you out of here tomorrow at around noon.”

“Noon? Peli, we can’t stay overnight. People need us.”

“People can wait. Can’t they?” She asks the question in a higher-pitched voice directed towards the kid who she bops in the nose before turning back to you and Din. “And sure you can! There’s a small holsterly just a few miles down the sand, an hour walk and you’ll be fine.”

“We only have credits for the maintenance.” Says Din from your right side.

Peli is about to throw a quick answer, as she always does, but something stops her. She closes her mouth and looks down at Grogu, who happily jiggles the tiny ball between his fingers. She smirks and looks up at you two again, adjusting the kid in her embrace.

“Tell you what. You let me take care of the kid for the night, you two go and have some rest, Maker knows you need it… and the maintenance is on me.”

“We’re not leaving –“ the Mandalorian starts but you quickly cut him off, placing a firm hand on his whistling bird, settling him.

“Deal.”

“Wh- What?” He shakes his helmet in your direction.

“Come on.” You tug him along your side, heavy beskar boots reluctant to move, as you wave back at Grogu and Peli who is smiling like two children who will, more than definitely, be up to no good in the following hours.

But he knows better than to make a scene with you when you are playing nice. So he waits until the pair that was left behind to be out of sight to pull you by your elbow to face him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but we are almost out of credits.” You reason with him, picking up on his sentence. “Din, she did a nice thing… not all people are out to get you.” Your voice is calm, and it takes all of your strength not to reach out and touch him, maybe caress the helmet of his cheek, or his hand. But he’s who he is, and you don’t want to cross any lines.

His towering figure lets go of your elbow and he walks ahead through the sand, talking over his shoulder.

“This is the first and last time we’re doing this.”

You grin and bit your bottom lip behind him, feeling victorious from having him wrapped around your finger in situations like this, before speeding your own stride to catch up to him, feeling the heat reflected on his beskar hit your skin.

It was a small inn, there was no doubt, more like a one night resting home for the looks of it, the offer ranging little above a few sleeping quarters along a hall and a shared bathroom at the end of it.

Once unlocking the wooden door, you and Din stepped into the now moonlit room, which ended up being more spacious than anticipated.

With Din closing the door and locking it once again, your eyes scan around the carved walls and the big window, the tapestry on the floor and then – the bed. The only bed. Not even a couch on the other end of the room. Only a bed.

Din seems to have noticed it too as you feel him come to a halt right behind you, helmet turning to scan the room.

“Why would they give us only one bed? I specifically said it was a two people bedroom.” You can feel his aggrieved tone sip through the helmet, frustrated with the situation.

“Two people. Not two beds.” You scoff and he looks at you, causing you to look away and avert your smile from his field of vision – how unskilled Din was with such mundane tasks always amused you. “I’m afraid this one’s on you Din Djarin.”

You walk over to the bed and start to peel the layers of your leather uniform, down to your undershirt and panties.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Din asks you, turning his helmet away once his helmet falls upon your bare legs.

“Getting to bed. You should too.” You state in a deadpan voice, before sliding your legs underneath the cotton sheet and laying your head in the fluffy pillow – something you haven’t had in months.

“No, yeah, I can see that! But I-… do you… Are you…?” he stumbles over his words, awkwardly still standing in the middle of the room at the bottom of the bed.

“Din, rest. Come on, it’s not every day you have a real bed to lay on.” The man huffs and walks over to your opposite side of the bed, before pulling the covers back, getting ready to seat down, before you shoot up on your elbow.

“Aren’t you going to take the armour off?”

“Why would I? Hostile planet, unknown people sleeping next door. Peli might contact us at any minute.” He has a big list of reasons, and he could more than definitely go on, but something in the way you are looking at him through the visor stops him.

“Din. Nothing bad is going to happen for one night.” Your eyes were honest and they pierced his soul melting his insides and kicking his usual hunter instinct out the window.

Not being able to resist, he drops his shoulders and sighs, before reaching for his chest pauldron and unclasping it while you grin victoriously.

“The helmet stays on.” He warns you, while pieces upon pieces of beskar and leather fall to the ground, placed against the foot of the bed until he is in nothing besides his fitted undersuit and beskar helmet.

Reaching for the covers once again, Din finally sleeps into the bed and as soon as his back hits the mattress he releases a quiet grown and you chuckle.

“Better?” you ask him, face turned his way and cocking your eyebrow up.

“Better.” This time, to your surprise, he’s the one that chuckles, the vibration of the modulated sound going straight to your stomach.

“Goodnight Din.” You whisper, turning your back to him and placing your body in your preferred position to sleep. With one look at you, the only nothing he can now see is the moonlit outline of your curves as your ribcage rises and falls at the rhythm of your quiet breath.

He’d be damned if anything happened to you. For as paranoid as he was the possibility of someone breaking in at the dead of the night and harming you, stopped him from turning his back to you and instead, settling with his chest up to the ceiling, helmet turned in your direction.

“Goodnight.”

For the first time in Maker knows how long, both you and Din managed to sleep during a full night with no sudden wake up calls or alarms beeping around. It was nice, he had to admit. So nice, that his body got a little too comfortable, his hands in his slumber reaching for your body and your own figure, unconsciously draw to his embrace let itself be held by him during the long hours of the dark – none of you being aware of such.

But somewhere along that time, in the wee small hours of the morning, your body rotated in his arms, back to his slowly moving chest and his hands, unbothered, had to keep touching you, they had to make sure you were there, hence gently palming your right boob.

It wasn’t until you felt an involuntary squeeze of his bare hands against your tunic, a definite sleep spasm that you were pulled awake and made aware of the situation.

Heat flooded your whole body once you realized the compromising position you both found yourselves in. Gently humming Din’s name, you don’t dare to move his arm, being very aware of his hunter instincts.

“Din.” You repeat again, this time louder and the man behind you hums. At the same time as the sound leaves his lungs, his fingers squeeze yet again. You suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip, preventing any sort of moan from escaping.

Din groans once, the sleep still gripping his system but he must’ve soon realized where his hand was, forearm trapped beneath your weight as he quickly pulls it away, sitting up straight in the bed.

“Kriff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to-“ His chest is rising and lowering heavy, and you can see a hint of the red skin that heats on his neck and upper chest.

“It’s alright, I know.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, you having since sat up in bed, back against the headboard, only your breathings and and heavy tension floating in the air. You were pretty sure your cheeks were still pink, as they still felt hot.

“I don’t want you to think that I wanted to do anything to you. I would never.” He says, coming off harsher than intended. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, Maker, he did, he had fallen head over heels a long time ago… But, maybe you didn’t feel that way. You were too good for him, anyway. A puddle of light in his life that he didn’t want to corrupt with his own being.

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper, afraid that he really didn’t want anything to do with you, slightly hurt by the words he’d just said.

Silence remains and you look to your side only to find the beskar helmet turning in your direction, your hopeful eyes and hung mouth pleading for a genuine answer.

Feeling bold, you reach for his bare hand that rested against the mattress and hold it up to where it was before and he is silently following your actions, but you can feel his muscles tensing at your actions.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” His voice is strained as he looks away but dares not to move his hand.

“Din. Please.” You whisper in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for his helmet to return to face you.

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

There is a moment there. One of silence, but that was heavy with unsaid words. A look into your eyes was all it took him to pull your hips gently down and lay you back on the soft mattress while his body shifted to be above you.

His rough fingers gently tugged at one of the straps of your tunic before pulling it down and off your arm, same as with the other one that followed, leaving the thin fabric still splayed over your chest, from where he could now see the hard buds straining through.

Your breathing deepened and you could feel heat pool at your core, shifting your thighs closer together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed to the masked man above you as your knees brushed his crotch.

“Mesh’la.” He whispers, looking down your body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his confined pants.

Putting all of his weight on his elbows, the Mandalorian slides the fabric of your tunic down, revealing your swollen breasts, courtesy of the arousal he was fabricating in you. His fists curled at the sudden need that he had, one that he couldn’t fulfil if there was the possibility of you seeing his face.

Sitting back on his knees, he reaches out to the floor on his side of the bed, where he remembers to have discarded his armour and other layers the night before. When he sits back up, you can see that he is holding one of his undershirts, the one that went directly under the leather layer, made of a soft black fabric.

He motions it towards your head as if asking for permission to put it around your head and all you can do is nod while bitting your bottom lip, eager to give in to the pleasure he intended to deliver.

You lift your head from where it was resting against the pillow and his gentle hands tie the fabric around your eyes, making sure that it was tight enough for it not to slip, but not too much so that it would hurt you.

In the darkness that you found yourself surrounded by, all your other senses tingled in anticipation, especially your touch and hearing as from somewhere lower above you, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by that of metal being placed on wood.

Still sitting on his knees, his eyes could now see you in all of your glory, without the darkening of the helmet. And you were a sight to behold. Hair splayed around your head on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation, breasts aching for him. To the latter he gave in first, lowering himself to attach his lips to your left nipple, his breath fanning over it for a moment before diving in.

You suck in a sharp breath and moan at his action, while one of his hands finds your free nipple, not wanting it to go unattended.

“Din, that feels so good.” Your head lifts up and then drops with a small thud against the pillow taking in shallow and quick breaths as his fingers and tongue continued to tease your sensitive buds.

His mouth and hands were equally skilled, the latter, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, as quick jolts of pain and pleasure rushed through every nerve in your body.

He stayed there for a long time, switching sides every now and then, mouth sucking and tongue lapping and brushing against your nipples.

He sucked and moaned around it every time his tongue stroked the tip of your nipple and your hands fumbled between grabbing the sheets below you or his soft hair, body arching up wanting more. More of him, more of that sensation, just more.

With your tunic still draped over your torso the one hand of Din’s that wasn’t supporting his weight travels down to your core, thick fingers brushing against your clit and soon after trailing a path up your dripping slit, moaning when his digits became wet.

“Did that make you wet, cyar’ika? You like it when I play with your nipples?” his husky voice sent waves of arousal up your body.

“Yes, Din, you’re so good at it, please.” You reach your hand down to palm at his erection “I need you, please.”

Gently he grabs your hand from his crotch and places it down next to your head. “Next time. We need to get going in a few if we don’t want to burn under the midday sun. But I can still make you feel good.”

You moaned at his willingness to prioritize your pleasure over his, going as far as denying himself of an orgasm at this crucial moment, which would have him frustrated until the next time you could be alone together again.

His lips return to your nipples and, at the same time, he slides two digits inside your aching cunt, the warmth and clenching around his skin making him whimper around your nipple, making the pleasure skyrocket on your part.

The outer rim of his free hand now rested against the mound that was free from his mouth’s hold, as his middle finger flicked up and down against the tip of your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as it synched perfectly with his ministrations against and inside your core.

It was all too much, and tears pooled at the outer corners of your eyes, leaving an eventual wet trail behind as they ran down your cheeks, until being soaked by his shirt that rested around your eyes.

Your body convulsed under his frame, arching against him as a wave of white pleasure washing over you like never before, the joined ecstasy of his two places of stimulation pushing you with full force over the edge you were chasing.

Din rode your high until he felt you could no more, never for once slowing his movement in between your legs as your cum dripped down his fingers and into his palm, and making the most of your sensitive nipples by bringing both your breasts together with his large hand, positioning them in a way that both nipples were almost touching, allowing him to lick and suck at the two simultaneously.

Once your body is spent and limp, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath and trying to drive some oxygen up to your brain as you felt like being high, Mando finally lifts his face up to your own and, for the first time lets his lips latch onto something other than your chest. The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue roaming your lips before exploring your mouth.

Din then sits back up on his knees, chuckling as your head followed his once your lips parted, not wanting to separate just yet.

His bare hand reaches to the side table where he’d laid the helmet and puts it back on, coming away from straddling you and rather returning to his side of the bed, pulling you in by your waist to his side and sliding the shirt up from around your eyes

He watches you smile, still in the aftereffects of your orgasm.

“Hey.” You muse up at him.

“Hey.” He answers, the helmet preventing you from seeing the lopsided smile that adorned his beautiful face.

“That was…”

“I know.” He completes your thought.

“Was it so bad, after all?” You close your eyes as the question leaves your lips, the exhaustion of this morning activity starting to wash over you.

“Not even close.”

As if on cue, the first ray of sunshine makes its way through the window glass and you know that it means you need to get dressed and out of this place. Din notices it as well, patting your side before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“Come one, mesh’la. We need to go.”

“I know.” You groan up to the air. “But this is so comfortable.”

“The faster we get there, the faster we can go into the Razor and the closer we are to putting Grogu asleep.” He tells you, hands on his hips, a teasing tone on his voice and damn it, he got you good.

“I hate that you know me so well.” You huff with a smile, crawling up to his side of the bed so that you’re on your knees on top of the mattress, still, he towers over you.

“Can’t wait to know all of you.” He whispers as his helmet comes closer down your face and his hands travel to your waist. He then gives it a little squeeze before patting your ass. “Come on now, let’s go. I have a feeling someone is waiting to make grabby hands at us.”

“I was about to say you have a stationed ship waiting to take off, but I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You muse over your shoulder, walking to the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

As you go, Din stays behind adoring the view of your hips swaying and ass jiggling as you walk.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He really couldn’t wait to know all of you.

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[cinnamonest]

Who do you think would be able to noncon and wife Lumine? Since she's been traveling worlds and stuff she's probably stronger than what we give credit for, so who do you think would be a good match for her?

Oh there's a lot of good candidates and I am a Lumine Harem Enthusiast™ and honestly everyone has their own advantages.

I mean yes Lumine is powerful, but still visibly struggles at times like the golden house fight, with Baal, etc, so I think it's fair to say she has combat experience/technique skill and elemental power but still the actual physical strength of the average female of her size, so, not too strong. Unfortunately without a vision, she can't just have her power stripped from her, but most of our boys are candidates in their own way.

She visibly struggles against Baal, so it's fair to say she's no match for an actual archon like Zhongli or Venti, probably not Xiao either. In terms of physical + elemental power she's not even close to a combative threat. Those three would have the easiest time of it. Of them, the most likely to do so would definitely be Xiao, based on some of his dialogues and birthday letter and teapot lines he's pretty direct about having some form of attachment to/affection for the traveler and just based on his personality I feel like he's the most likely to snap into yan mode, so to speak.

Side note interestingly one of the things I haven't discussed much is that like, yandere is rarely the natural state of a person, it's more like an underlying tendency/a state of mind/a "side" of a person that can be triggered or snapped into, and certain individuals are more or less likely to do so. Some have to be driven to a breaking point through a lot of stress, some just a few conditions have to be met, and then for a few it's basically their default when they experience affection or attachment. So certain characters are far more likely than others to "become yandere." Xiao is absolutely high on that scale for likeliness, would be in that last category, so yeah, the most likely of those 3.

Venti would be least likely, but he could be driven to it, and Zhongli is somewhere in the middle. All of them would be able to do so with some ease, though, and Zhongli and Xiao specifically could lock her in an abode. Not to mention they don't really die as easily as a person I think? So even if she attacks they'll probably be fine. Venti also has psychological manipulation on his side, he can probably easily gaslight her into seeing her brother as an enemy if he really tries. If all else fails, sweep her up with that burst of his and knock her out.

Any human or human adjacent would have a significantly harder time since Lumine's elemental powers cannot just be taken away so easily. If anyone can find a way to do so though, that would probably be Albedo. He's also smart enough to not make his intentions too obvious, much like with his quest - he would just perform harmless experiments he claims are for this or that reason, eventually developing a way to strip her of her power. His biggest advantage is obviously intelligence. He'd always be one step ahead of her, always predict her next move, and that's just as good of an advantage as any physical or elemental one.

So while it would be more difficult if she still has her power, the thing about Kaeya and Diluc is both of them are the kind of stubborn (Diluc) and deranged (Kaeya) enough to... Just restrain her. Arms and legs bound. At all times. Can't use your powers if you can't move. Diluc can just keep trying to be kind in his own way, because he *can* be sweet and caring when he tries, and would eventually just mindbreak/Stockholm her. Kaeya on the other hand... She's a lot more likely to end up... Permanently incapacitated. Can't escape if you can't use your limbs. For those two, the hard part would be getting her - most likely grab her while she's asleep, but once they have her and get her restrained, they're set. They're both bigger stronger men and can easily beat her in terms of pure hand to hand strength. Pyro is a rather frightening element and can be used as a projectile in Diluc's case, a burn can easily incapacitate. And if she tries to escape in the rain or cross a river she can be easily frozen too, and Kaeya's one of the least afraid to seriously hurt her to begin with. Eventually she'll become conditioned, the pain she experiences every time she tries to escape will eventually outweigh her desire to be free and find her brother, eventually she'll crack and give in to despair and give up, he can break her with time.

Childe and Scara would have it a bit easier than those two, because they have more help. The Dawn Winery maids can help Diluc sure, but they can't really contain her quite like Fatui can. She can't fight off 10 of them by herself. So even when they're not nearby, they can just have people watch her. Sure she puts up a fight, but they both kinda like that. In the end even if she escapes, they can probably manage to get her back, especially with help. For one I feel like Childe is a lot more capable when in a wide open space like the outdoors chasing her would be, in comparison to a tiny enclosed space like our fight with him.

The smaller boys would have the most difficulty. Razor and Xingqiu have the advantage of pure numbers/outnumbering her. Xingqiu has guards but in the end they're just normal guys and can't do too much. Still, when their entire force is gathered, they might be able to overpower her, especially if she's not in anemo mode and can't blow them away.

Razor has a similar thing going on -- sure, they're animals, you can blow away five wolves, but fifteen? Thirty? Fourty? She'd be able to escape eventually but the problem here would be staying escaped. Boy has no limits and inhuman levels of stubbornness and will gladly chase her across the entire map. Catch Lumine reaching Inazuma thinking she's finally safe and our boy comes emerging from the water like the cryptid he is just "found you, we go home now", he fucking swam across the ocean for that Lumine coochie and he'll do it again. Unbelievable.

Razor also has an elemental advantage. Other elements like hydro + cryo combo can freeze her if you have dual yans, but his is the only element where getting one good hit in can completely shock her into unconsciousness or paralysis.

The ones who have the hardest times would be Chongyun and Kazuha. It's just themselves, really, I doubt the Crux would be too willing to help imprison a girl, especially since Kazuha isn't in a position of power over them the way Diluc, Xingqiu, Scara and Childe have power over their forces, and they're not as insanely loyal as the wolves. Chongyun is on his own by default, maybe can enlist help from Xingqiu and his forces, but it's unlikely they'll help him all the time. Both are pretty determined, but they'd have a difficult time fighting her. It's a toss up honestly, but even if they lose one battle they can find her again and eventually win. They would both likely try to catch her by surprise, take her while she's sleeping, etc. Kazuha has no qualms restraining her, Chongyun feels bad, but he'll do it if he has to.

Bennett has the pure protection of being Bennett. Like yeah you want to find your brother but is it worth making Bennett sad? No. No it is not. I'd drop my entire journey right there bc I can't bear the thought of hurting him. He doesn't even have to restrain her, could you imagine breaking his heart you monster? No. Lumine is finished.

Dainsleif could probably manage. He has tricks up his sleeve, I guarantee it. He's been around long enough there's no way he hasn't learned how to handle a being like her, probably knows of a way to strip her of power.

Tbh? Ultimately, the best choice in terms of being able to handle her is her brother. He knows her too well. He knows exactly what her strengths and weaknesses are, he probably knows exactly how to beat her. He knows her better than anyone, and it gives him an incomparable advantage, so she's pretty much done for.

So tl;dr Lumine is fucked both figuratively and literally and should just accept her fate :)

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, chapter 1

Novel decided to do Adrienette April on a whim. Each post until the end of April (or such is the plan) will have 3 prompts in it.

She also discovered she’s very rusty. Bear with me here. XD

Next>>

1. AU

Marinette had thought she’d grown used to Chloe’s bullying, having to had endure it since they were little. However, with high school came a new name that became a regular part of Chloe’s vocabulary, alongside “hot” and “sexy” and “dreamboat”.

“And Marinette would never catch the eye of someone so perfect.”

Honestly, Marinette had thought she was over it, but on a particularly bad day, she’d snapped back at Chloe.

“Well, clearly he isn’t that perfect if he fawns over someone whose only redeeming quality is pretending to be pretty.”

That had led to a fire alarm getting pulled and Marinette left to blame for it. Anyone who tried to come to her defense was shut down, and Marinette had been suspended.

Which had started an all-out war.

After being stuck at home, wrongfully, for three solid days, Marinette had snapped. She’d decided that if Chloe was going to build a bonfire and poor on the gasoline that she would be there with a match. By senior year, Marinette’s record had taken a hit for it but Chloe’s reputation was in the toilet.

Marinette would take what she could get.

However, she supposed she hadn’t fully thought out the consequences. As much as she played with fire, she should have realized she’d get burned sooner or later.

And she did. Third degree.

We regret to inform you your application has been denied.

Those were words she grew tired of seeing yet came back from every school she applied to. With that in mind, she’d called up her girl friends to tell them what had happened.

“Hey, Marinette,” Alya had said upon seeing the letters. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel really bad for you. But… I did warn you—”

“I get it,” Marinette had surrendered, knowing that Alya was completely right. “You tried to warm me of the consequences, and now I’m paying for them.”

The girls had slipped into a moment of silence before Alix spoke up. “Hey, I can ask Max if he can do a little digging so you at least know why, yeah?”

Marinette had raised a brow but agreed. “Only if he’s not busy with his own college stuff.”

“Oh please, he’s too smart for college. He started up some robotics company in his free time and is already making bank on it.”

It took a week for Max to come back with a full report. Marinette had to give him props for working fast as he did.

“Hacking into the system was the first thing I could think of,” he’d explained. “In the side notes, there was mention of your attendance record and suspensions.”

“They were all wrongful suspensions,” Alix had countered.

“Doesn’t matter to the school,” Max had said with a shrug. “But even then, I thought there had to be more to this than just attendance. There were other students who had the same notes yet were accepted. So I shifted focus to digging up background on all the directors of the school. After hacking a few emails, I discovered Audrey Bourgeois happens to know a lot of directors or administration members in all the fashion schools of France. Considering the contents of most of those emails, it has become clear that Marinette was wrongfully barred from every school she’d applied to. And that there’s nothing that can be done about it because we only discovered such scandal through highly illegal means.”

“So…” Alya had begun, turning her attention to Marinette. “Where does that leave you, M?”

Marinette’s lips had pursed in thought. It was funny how things turned out, because despite her anger, she somehow had been peace with what she was faced with. “I think that the last place I want to be is in an industry full of liars and people who use their words to manipulate anyone they damn well please.”

That was how she ended up working full-time in her parents’ bakery. They never said a word about it, but she knew they were disappointed. Of course they weren’t mad about her still being here and working in the bakery with them, and she knew her parents still loved her more than anything.

But she knew that with as many dreams as she had and had shared with them, they were disappointed on her surrendering it all.

“Sorry, Maman, Papa,” she whispered into the empty kitchen as she plopped the baguettes she formed onto a baking tray. “Just give me a little time to figure things out. Seems like lofty dreams are a lot easier to crush than I realized.”

 2. Rebellion

A son can only bear the world of their parent’s expectations for so long. He wasn’t Atlas, but after a few years of acting like him, Adrien decided to dump the globe. To hell if it broke. He’d smirk in satisfaction at his father’s disappointment.

At the very least, the fact he no longer had the weight of the world of his shoulders made the far-too-common disappointment lecture easier to bear.

His strategic rebellion had started harmless enough. At sixteen with a rapidly growing forced modeling career, he’d given his father an ultimatum: he gets to grow out his hair, or it all goes. It had been shocking the amount of power the razor in his hand had given him. It was the perfect harmless threat. His father had been furious, throwing a fit about Adrien acting like a child, but after being gaslit for so long, Adrien had finally come to realize the abusive techniques for what they were. And he wasn’t going to roll over and take it any longer.

That day had ended with Adrien being grounded but ultimately the victor of their stand-off.

After that, he’d begun ditching certain events. He’d always liked fencing, so he never ditched those lessons, but attendance for his home-school lessons, mandarin lessons, and piano lessons had all been decided on a whim. His father had hardly been pleased by this, but to Adrien, that was the point. The lectures soon washed into one another so much that Adrien could practically recite the words that roll off his father’s tongue verbatim. He’d come to realize they were strategically meant to hurt. To humiliate. And as such, he’d stopped taking them personally.

Then came the fun part.

He got earrings. Honestly, Adrien hadn’t really cared for the piercings one way or another. In one way, there were a hassle, and caring for new piercings was a pain in the butt. However, they had been worth it to see his dad so royally pissed off.

Then came the ditching of certain photoshoots. There was a reason Adrien had held off on this one for so long: he cared about the people running the shoot. There was no reason they needed to be collateral in this battle between him and his father. After all, they were just employees doing their job; Adrien didn’t want them to suffer for his rebellion. With that in mind, Adrien had planned out his absences of these photoshoots. Again, he didn’t want to drag anyone else into his mess, so he had always organized a replacement model. Shoot would always go on, just not as planned.

And that was enough to drive his father mad.

It always put a smile on Adrien’s face.

The last touch was an unexpected one. He hadn’t even thought about going this far. Yet, a friend of his not only put the idea in his head, but gave him the art to go with it.

“Is that a tattoo?”

Oh, how he wished he would have taken a picture of his father’s face. The large black cat surrounded in a green, wispy smoke that wrapped around his forearm was truly a work of art. He’d had to think carefully about this decision, but in the end, he quite liked it.

“Yeah. I’m eighteen; I can ink myself if I want to. Why? Is that a problem?”

Adrien might be wearing a cat on his arm, but the grin on his lips was downright wolfish.

Eventually, it all had come to a head and blew up in his face. Adrien couldn’t say he’d been surprised. In fact, he had been fully expecting it. He’d already found an apartment to rent and had begun sneaking most of his important things over there before his father could kick him out. So when Adrien found himself kicked to the curb as soon as he was handed his general education certificate, Adrien had been prepared.

But mostly, he was free.

What a joyous day it was.

However, now that he was free, he knew he needed a job. Not because he needed the money, per se, but because it was time he started acting like the average adult. He never got to go to school, so now, it was time to pick up a mundane, first job that everyone hated but would “serve him well later in life”. Mostly, it would just be something normal.

The easy places to apply were food shops and retail stores. He’d work one for a while before deciding what his next life step would be. Chloe had been quick to offer him a job at her father’s hotel, but Adrien was vehemently against the idea. Over the span of his rebellion, Chloe’s behavior and attitude towards him had grown notably worse, and he had a feeling cutting ties with her would be his next step in life.

In the end, he’d scored a job he definitely was underqualified for. He’d applied partly out of spite and partly because ‘why not?’ He’d heard about this bakery enough times from Chloe to know the “cruel bitch who did nothing but mercilessly harass her” lived here, and that was enough to pique Adrien’s curiosity. At a bakery as popular as that, though, he hadn’t been sure he’d get a call. And when he did, he knew he would do everything he could to present himself as a reliable and respectable man eager to work, but he never thought he’d end up hitting it off with the owner.

Which somehow ended up with him agreeing to work at Tom and Sabine’s Patisserie.

Going into that job, he swore to himself he would do what he could to prove himself worthy. He knew there had to have been better applicants, so Adrien didn’t want to disappoint the very kind owners who dared give him a chance. Soon, his days were spent working hard while covered in flour and surrounded by bread all day. Well, bread and all the sharp and hot objects in your average kitchen.

He just didn’t think that would include a wicked sharp and smoking hot young lady that happened to be his bosses’ daughter.

 3. Game Night

“Mama, Papa, please go. You two hardly ever get out of the house.”

Marinette watched her maman put a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone while her papa turned to her. “But I’ll be busy that night. We have a massive order scheduled for the next day.”

“I can handle that,” Marinette quickly countered with a grin. “You know I’m a night owl, anyway. I’ll get it done, and you two can go enjoy game night with your friends.”

Her parents spared each other a glance. “Are you sure about that, Marinette?” Maman asked.

“Positive. Papa already talks to the bread too much, so he really should talk to people for a change. And while you have to deal with people all day, I know you want more than to just have short conversations filled with small talk. So please, go out and have a social life for once.”

With one last look, her parents relented. With a smile, her mother took her hand off the phone. “We’ll be there.”

Papa turned to her with a grin. “I was going to spend that time teaching Adrien how to handle those orders. I can leave teaching him in your hands, right?”

Her grin fell. Adrien Agreste. What the hell a washed-out model was doing working at her parents’ bakery was beyond her. Admittedly, over the last month she’d been working with him, the most she’d say is that maybe he wasn’t too bad a guy. Papa certainly sung his praises. But that still didn’t answer the question of why he was working here of all places. After all, he was Chloe’s friend and suspected lover.

“Don’t think I don’t see that look on your face, Marinette,” her maman chastised. She’d hung up and set her phone down already, fully giving her attention to her daughter. “No matter your personal feelings, you really should give him a chance.”

“He’s a good kid,” Papa said. “Maybe a little rough around the edges, but I can tell he really does want to learn and do his best.”

Marinette sighed. This wasn’t the first time this talk had happened. She remembered having a talk with her parents after his first interview. There were a few other people who were far more qualified for the job, but Papa said he liked Adrien’s personality and spirit the best. So in the end, all Marinette’s objections had fallen upon deaf ears.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance.”

With a smile that made Marinette loath to disappoint him, her papa patted her head affectionately. “Thank you, Marinette. I think you’d like him if you got to know him.”

Not likely. “I’ll do my best, Papa.”

“Really, Marinette,” her maman warned. “Unless you have a valid reason, you need to put aside your feelings for the sake of the bakery running smoothly. Can you manage that?”

Appropriately chastised, Marinette bowed her head in embarrassment. Maman brought up a good point: Marinette shouldn’t let her anger towards Adrien affect the bakery. Her parents didn’t deserve that. “Yes, Maman. I’m sorry.”

With a smile, her maman came up and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Marinette hugged her back. “No, thank you, Maman and Papa, for everything. I won’t let you down.”

Papa wrapped his arms around both her and Maman. “Thank you, sweetheart. We love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

"Hello, beautiful" - Din Djarin x Mandalorian!reader

Summary: You had pushed Din away when he had needed you most. You had pushed him away when he had felt like he failed. But the truth was that you had failed him. (Set during Season 2 Episode 7/8) Requested by Anon: "Hi, I love your writing!! Could you do a fluff/angst oneshot with a Mandalorian reader where they see each other’s faces for the first time? Thank you!" - Thank you so much, hun! I hope you like how this turned out. I had a lot of fun writing this lil piece!  Warning: heavy angst and hurt, violence but only briefly mentioned, reader is acting like a bit of a shebs’palon (but they apologize and make up), you and Din speak Mando'a (Translations at the end)  Category: angst, fluffy ending (it ended up a lot more angsty than I anticipated, sorry!!)  Words: about 3.600 Notes: No use of (Y/N) and gender-neutral (if I missed something regarding gender please tell me and I’ll fix it) Also, kinda established relationship? At least a platonic one. Note 2: You're a Mandalorian that grew up in the same covert as Din. It won't be mentioned in this fic but you are/were as clueless as Din about other Mandalorians and their way of living.  Note 3: I think I gave myself whiplash from the title and the summary of this fic. They don't seem to match but I couldn't figure out what else to name this story, asgscgeh just bear with me. 

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"Hello, beautiful" - Din Djarin x Mando!reader

Back then when you had boarded the Razor Crest you didn't know the man flying it. You have seen him before but you didn't know him. However, you knew what he had to do and you knew you would accompany him, help him, be there for him and the little one. You never expected for all this to happen. You never expected to care so deeply for him and the kid. Maybe that was the reason why you had reacted the way you did. Maybe that was why it had hurt so much. But all that didn't excuse your words or actions. All that didn't make it any easier when the time came to let go.

Your mind was clouded ever since what happened on Tython. Whenever you closed your eyes, all you saw was Grogu in the grips of one of these dark troopers. All you saw were his big eyes staring at you when he got taken away. All you could think about was how you weren't fast enough to save him. How you failed. And you knew Din felt the same. He blamed himself, too. You knew it the moment you had taken his hand in your own. You felt it in the stiffness of his fingers that tightly curled around yours, seeking comfort, something to ground himself to. You were his pillar of strength just as much as he was yours in that moment. When you tilted your head his visor was as blank as usual, just like your own, but you knew. You saw the sadness in him. And it broke your heart even more. You stayed close to him during the flight to Nevarro, when you went to pick up Mayfeld and on the flight to Morak, too. You two gave each other comfort and strength. But that changed when Din returned from the imperial base on Morak.  "Can I talk to you?" You slightly turned your helmet to the side to glance at Din who was standing beside you, his hands closed to fists and his arms stiffly pressed to his sides. He hadn't talked, let alone looked at you since he had returned from that imperial base. You had suspected that something must have happened, something that Din didn't want to talk about. But now that he was approached you in such an uncertain und uncomfortable manner you knew that something was very wrong. You straightened up and nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way to a more private corner of the Slave I. Din didn't waste a single second and began walking into one of the small sleeping chambers that had just enough room for the two of you to stand in. The moment door closed behind you without a sound you suddenly felt the tension in the air heavily on your shoulders. However, you tried to not let it show, put on a brave face and crossed your arms before your chest. You stood completely still but behind your dark visor your eyes flickered over Din's form, trying to figure something, anything out. Even though you had been a part of the covert for all your life and could read the body language of other Mandalorians fairly easy, you still struggled with Din sometimes. He had always been a mystery to you and you had only really got to know him after you helped him escape from Nevarro with Grogu. Before that you had rarely walked into each other and when you did you always just nodded at each other in greeting, never sharing a word until you had boarded the Razor Crest that night. And even though you and Din had grown rather close during your time on his ship you never really got a hang of it, of him. You had no idea what he wanted to talk to you about, you had no idea what was wrong. When he didn't turn around to meet your hidden eyes with his own visor you grew a little anxious, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't unlike Din to hesitate before talking, he always seemed to consider his words before speaking up. But he had never ignored you before, he had never avoided your gaze before. And that hurt more than you thought it ever could. You only knew him for a considerably short time but the thought that he was pushing you away was clenching your heart so tightly it made your breath stammer over your lips. That he was pushing you away now of all times shot a hot, blinding pain through your chest.  "What do you want to talk about?" you asked, forcing your voice to sound strong even though you had never felt so weak and helpless before. Your eyes dropped to Din's fists that shook slightly. You let your arms fall down to your sides as you took one step towards his back. Cautiously you reached out and placed one hand on his shoulder. Your touch was light, you almost didn't even touch him but he still flinched. You gulped down the hurt and carried on. "Din?" "I took it off." You blinked rapidly and furrowed your brows in confusion. "What?" you asked, your voice sounding even heavier through the modulator than usually. "I took it off" Din repeated, his tone suddenly harsh as he shook your hand off his shoulder and turned around to face you. He had turned around so fast it caught you off guard. You would have stumbled if he hadn’t placed his own hands on your shoulders, keeping you steady. Din's posture was stiff and straight, no typical head tilt, no hands on his belt with his weight shifted more on one leg. The man in front of you was a stranger.  "What, Din? What did you take off?" you asked taken aback and with your voice laced with worry. Your eyes were flickering from his helmet to his hands that were placed on your shoulders as you tried to decipher the meaning of his words. It was this moment you realized that his harsh tone wasn’t directed at you but at himself. And it was this moment you realized he wasn't angry. He was terrified. And seeing Din truly scarred right now with his body trembling… that scarred you more than you could have ever imagined. You didn't even dare to breathe anymore. What could possibly scare Din so much that his whole body was shaking? You wanted to reach out for him, wrap your arms around him and draw him in, to comfort him like you had done so many times before. You were about to take one step forward when he spoke up again.  "My helmet" Din's voice broke. "They saw." He didn't need to explain who 'they' were. You knew. You suddenly knew what he had done in that imperial base. You knew why he was ignoring you. You knew and the only thing you could do was stare at him, your visor completely blank. You couldn't even tilt your head to give him some kind of reaction, you just froze with your breath stuck in your throat. You weren't even sure what you were thinking in that moment, your mind was blank. Only when Din put his hands on the sides of your helmet like he had done so many times before, did you find your way back into reality. Your head snapped upwards, your eyes wide behind the darkness of your visor. The touch, his touch that normally felt so soothing suddenly felt restricting. Or maybe it were your thoughts that kept drawing the circle in which they were racing tighter and tighter. Maybe they were cutting off your breath.  "Please, say something." You could almost see his eyes frantically searching for yours behind the visor. His eyes. Eyes you had never seen before and always had to imagine just how he had to imagine your eyes, too. Eyes they had seen. Some imperial men had seen them… before you. Your heart clenched at that thought and you took one step back, finally able to move again. Then you sucked in a sharp breath as Din's hands fell from your helmet. Lowering your head, you shook it in disbelief and confusion. You had no idea how to feel, how to react. All your life you had been taught… you knew there were other Mandalorians, other ways but… "I… I need some air" you chocked out. You were too overwhelmed. You needed some distance to clear your thoughts, to understand what you felt. So, you pushed him away just like he had done with you.  _______________ You and Din hadn't talked since then. Not on the Slave I. Not when you had gone out with him and Boba to recruit Bo-Katan and Koska. Not even when you were fighting against Moff Gideon with Din. But your thoughts had been racing through all of that. Screaming and clawing at the walls of your mind. You knew Din was suffering. He was suffering because of you and how you had reacted. You knew were wrong and needed to fix this… And then that Jedi appeared to take Grogu with him and you froze, unable to from any words or thoughts, unable to protest. This had been Din's and your mission. Grogu needed a teacher. But all those logical reason didn't make it any easier to watch. It wasn't any easier to watch as Din took the little green bean on his arm. It didn't make it easier to watch him remove his helmet so the little one could see his face for the first time. It didn't make it easier when you saw the slight tremble wandering through Din. You didn't need to see his face to know he was fighting against his tears.  But what made it even harder was when Din sat him back down and Grogu tiptoed towards you. You immediately leaped forward and scooped him up, coming to a halt right beside Din. You cradled him in your own arms, hugging him tight as you felt the tears clouding your eyes. Grogu stretched his little hands towards your helmet just like he had done with Din. You didn't hesitate to rib it off and let it fall to the ground. It didn’t matter anymore, nothing else mattered anymore. Underneath your hair was a mess of unkempt tangles and locks, your eyes filled with tears as you looked at Grogu with them and not through the visor for the first and last time. He placed one of his hands underneath your eye, clumsily wiping away the tears. A sad smile stretched over your lips at that. He cooed softly as you hugged him tighter against you while quiet sobs shook your body.  "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ad'ika" you whispered so quietly even you struggled to pick it up. But maybe the heartbeat was just echoing too loudly in your ears. Either way, Grogu might not know what the words meant exactly, but when he tried to hug you back you were certain he had understood the weight in them.  But all this didn't make it easier to set him down and to let him go. _______________ You were still staring at the elevator door even when it had stayed closed for many minutes now. You still hoped they would open up, so you could see him again. You were still staring at it even when the others slowly left the room, their gazes lowered and not looking back as they were walking into the elevator to get to the ship, leaving you two alone. They walked into the same elevator in which Grogu had disappeared into. You knew that this was the best for him, but that didn't hinder your heart from shattering. You sucked in a sharp breath and closed your eyes when you felt another wave of tears forming in them. But when you felt a hand intertwine with your own they snapped open again and it took all your willpower to not look to your right, to not look at Din whose eyes were also still focused on the elevator. It took everything in you to not look at Din without his helmet on. This was the moment you realized that you could faintly make out some of his features from the corner of your eye. You could see him, parts of him, for the very first time. And it forced the tears in your eyes to spill over as you collapsed on the floor, breaking your fall with one hand whilst the other was still in Din's. He didn't let go of you, instead he slowly let himself fall beside you. So close you could feel his warmth beside you. So close it made you unable to breath.  "I'm sorry" you whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Your voice gained in volume as you wailed in pain. You had lost Grogu once more. You had pushed Din away when he had needed you most. You had pushed him away when he had felt like he failed. But the truth was that you had failed him. "I am an awful friend. I am an awful partner. I-I-" you sucked in shallow breaths, clawing at your throat with your free hand as you sat back on your legs. Then Din squeezed your hand and you froze. Your mouth opening and closing without producing a sound. He tugged your hand towards him, cupped your hand in between his own and placed it over the chest plate where his heart was beating underneath while still staring straight ahead just like you were. "Stop" you hissed. "You are supposed to hate me. Please, just push me away. I don't-"  Before you could finish your sentence Din suddenly pulled you to him. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed you against his chest. "You're supposed to hate me!" you screamed while you clawed at his coat, burying your fingers into the worn out fabric while tears burned their path into your skin. You didn’t understand this. How could he act that way, how could he bear to hold you in his arms after how awful you had reacted, after how badly you had hurt him? How could he even stand to be in the same room with you? "Why don't you hate me?" you begged, your voice barley over a whisper now. But Din didn't answer you. He just kept you pressed against him until your body stopped shaking, until your wails and cries died down and all you could do was to exhaustedly melt into him. Your shoulders were still shaking every now and then when you sucked in a sharp breath and the tears had left behind deep paths in your skin.  "You're still a Mandalorian" you whispered after a while, your voice hoarse. "It didn't make you any less of a Mandalorian. I would have done the same. I wouldn't have hesitated and that makes how I reacted even worse. I'm sorry!"  "It's okay" Din suddenly whispered back. You tensed up at that and it took all your willpower to not free yourself from his embrace, to not push him away again, to not run away.  "No, it's not!" you barked back. "When I boarded the Razor Crest we said we would have each others back, that we would always be there for each other. I said I would always be there for you!" You pressed your eyes closed, forced the tears back.  "Hate me. Push me away, scream at me! Kriffing, just leave me behind!"  Din tightened his grip and placed his head on top of yours. You felt his chin press against you as his breath tickled over your hair. And you couldn't hold the tears back anymore.  "Please, just hate me."  "I don't" he said, his voice soft but stern. "You hurt me but I don't hate you." You let out a stifled cry and pressed your face underneath his chin and against his neck, breathing in his scent, feeling his skin against your own for the very first time.  "I'm sorry" you said, your voice breaking.  "I know" Din chuckled slightly and slowly let his hands wander to your face, cupping your cheeks, wiping away the remaining tears. "It's okay, we'll get through this." We'll get through losing Grogu. We'll get through our pain and hurt. We'll get through this together. You nodded as you sobbed, your fingers slowly relaxing until they completely let go of Dins' coat. Your arms dropped to the ground with a thud while Din drew slow circles on your cheeks, brushing back your hair every now and then until your body relaxed against him. For a while you two stayed like this, seeking the comfort of the other. Then he slightly tugged at your head, wanting to pull it back and you immediately understood his question. You tensed up. "I don't deserve to look at you" you whispered, pressing your face further into him.  "That's not your decision" Din stopped and took a deep breath.  "I want you to see. I wanted you to be the first one to see and I'm sorry that it wasn't you."  "Don't apologize" you croaked out and slightly shook your head in between his hands. "You have nothing to apologize for. I would have done the same." You felt Din nod against you, the humming sound in his chest vibrating in your own.  "I want you to see me" he began again. "But I also want to see you… if you'll let me?"  Your hands shot up to cup his cheeks just like he was cupping yours as you nodded. "Yes."  For a few moments in which your hearts were beating against each other’s ribs, no one moved. You didn't dare to be the first one to move, you didn’t dare to be the one to initiate, so you waited. Din sucked in a deep breath before he slowly pulled your head back. You felt his eyes wander over your face immediately. However, you kept your eyes lowered. "Please, look at me."  Your lips began to tremble, your eyes shut tightly. For a few seconds you just focused on how his face felt underneath your fingers. You focused on the slight stubble you could feel, the deep lines in his face formed by hardship and worry. You focused on the warmth of his skin seeping through your gloves, on the locks of hair that were tickling against the back of your hand. Then you slowly looked up. You looked up, you laid your eyes on him and your breath got stuck in your throat. You couldn't think as tears formed on the corners of your eyes once again. You got lost in the warmth of Din's deep brown eyes. You got lost in the gentleness of his smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips ever so slightly and the uncertainty of his furrowed brows. You lost yourself in him just as he was losing himself in you, in your eyes, in your own quivering lips.  "Su cuy'gar, mesh'la." You couldn't hold back the tears anymore just as you couldn't hold back the small sad smile forming on your lips. "Su cuy'gar, mesh'la" you retorted with a small, breathless laugh. For a few more heartbeats you just looked at each other, eyes soft and filled with tears, fingers wandering over the others face, exploring the scars, lines and imperfections. Your heart was hammering rapidly against your ribs, so much that you were able to feel it thumbing in your throat. Then Din slowly pulled you forward until your foreheads were firmly pressed against one another. You felt his breath tickle over your face and it made shivers run down your spine. The tears in Din's eyes finally spilled over as he let his hands wander to your hair, inching to pull you even closer. A soft laugh left his lips when you wiped away his tears with your thumbs. It made your heart swell and clench at the same time.  "Ni ceta" you whispered. "Ni ceta. Ni ce-"  "K'uur, ner sarad" Din interrupted you as he stroked through your hair. You closed your eyes and breathed in his soothing scent, concentrated on his heart beating against your ribs, his breath ghosting over your lips. He was so close you could almost feel the smile on his lips. Your eyes shot opened, locking onto his when you felt his thumb brush over the top of your lip, tracing your mouth. His eyes were slightly hooded, filled with the impulse to lean forward. But he didn't. Instead he raised his brows slightly, questioningly, asking you. And all you could do was wordlessly nod. Din closed the small gap between the two of you in an instant, placing his lips over yours, so lightly it felt like only a gust of wind, like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. You melted into him, pulling him closer, pressing into him. You kissed him back, your lips dancing against his just as cautiously. And then you cried once more, sobbing against his lips, losing yourself in the sensation. You felt his pain in that kiss, his worries and fears. You felt the loss that was clawing at him, breaking him slowly piece by piece. And that made you kiss back harder, more desperately. You put all your own sorrow into that kiss but also all your love.  When you two slowly pulled away, you both stared breathlessly at each other. No one spoke up but you didn't have to, to understand the other. You could see everything you needed to know in Din's eyes for the very first time. You would get through this. You would work through this. You would overcome the pain and hurt.  _________________________________  

Translations:

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you Ad'ika - little one, son Su cuy'gar - Hello Mesh'la - beautiful Ni ceta - sorry, lit: I kneel (grovelling apology)  K'uur – Hush Ner sarad – my flower

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Din Djarin Simps: @theflightytemptressadventure​ / @sarahjkl82-blog / @remmysbounty / @undeniableadrenaline / @kassidydjarin / @freeshavocadoooo / @dindaddy / @wonderless-screwup / @helena-way07 / @n0ffitar / @24-blackbirds

If you want to be added/removed/switched to another taglist at any point just let me know! Crossed out names I was unable to tag for some reason. Also, I think some of you changed their usernames? Sooo, I hope I managed to tag you correctly...

[sunflowergirl522]

Herc’ata

Pairing: Din Djarin x Short!Reader

Summary:While visiting Cara and Greef Din meets a new face, one Grogu becomes attached to immediately. (Bubbly enthusiastic person and grumpy serious person ship dynamic)

Warnings: Language maybe?, slight mention of infertility, breeding kink if you look real close for it. If I missed anything let me know

Word Count: 2684

A/N: I know that not much happens in this one but it was getting too long but I’m gonna start working on a part 2 after work hopefully.

Masterlist

You land your freighter just outside of Nevarro city nearly bursting with excitement knowing that you’re about to see Cara again. You haven’t seen her since she had just started hiding out on Sorgan. You grab your tan knapsack and jump off of the front ramp right before it touches the ground. You aren’t expecting anyone to be waiting for you at the entrance so you just head straight into the city. You spot Cara talking to a man after walking for a bit and taking in your surroundings.

“Cara!” You run at her with a giant smile on your face. Her head turns to you and her eyes widen while a smile graces her face as she sees you. She’s quick to catch you as you throw your arms around her waist.

“Y/n!?” You both part but she keeps her hands on your shoulders. “You’re here early.”

“I couldn’t wait another day to leave.” You bounce on your feet from all the excitement. “I’ve been so excited to see you again.” Cara chuckles at just the sheer amount of energy you’re emitting as she picks you up in a bear hug.

“Who’s this?” The man that Cara had been talking to asks as the two of you part.

“Hi! I’m Y/n!” You hold your hand out to him as you look up at his face. He glances towards Cara partially for an explanation.

“My cousin.”

“Ah, Cara had mentioned a cousin coming to visit. I’m Greef Karga.” He takes your hand and you shake it enthusiastically.

“It’s great to meet you.” Before Greef could say anything else you let go of his hand and spin around taking in everything again. “This place is so much nicer than the last time I was here. You’ve done an amazing job, Care!” You beam at Cara with your eyes closed. Now where am I staying exactly?”

“Follow me.” Cara motions with her hand the direction and you walk forward while Greef looks at Cara with a playful gleam in his eye.

“Care?”

“Drop it.” Cara nudges his shoulder with a small smile as she catches up with you.

***

Din looks at Grogu playing with the only piece of the Razor Crest that was left over, his beloved ball.

“Grogu.” the child coos and turns his attention towards the Mandalorian who smiles under his helmet at the kid. “That asteroid field back there did some damage to the ship, how about we stop by Nevarro to visit our friends and get some repairs?” Din really just wants to get a whole new ship, one that isn’t already a hunk of junk when he finds it. The child just coos again before turning his attention back to the ball.

Din got stuck with an x wing that’s missing one of it’s set of wings past the thrusters. He’s just been praying that he doesn’t come across anymore republic pilots before he can get a new ship. The last thing he needs is them questing him. He misses having a hull and an area to sleep. Instead he’s been stuck sleeping in the pilots seat, that is when he does sleep. He’s awake most of the time making sure Grogu doesn’t press anything.

All in all Din just can’t wait to get to Nevarro to get some rest and hopefully a new ship.

***

Greef and Cara are talking about a friend of theirs when you join them in the cantina the next morning.

“When’s he showing up?”

“Some time today I think. He seemed exhausted over the holo.”

“Who did?” They both jump at your voice not hearing you approach the table.

“A friend of ours is coming back to visit.” Greef smiles at you as he speaks. You’ve made quite the impression of yourself to him and even though he hasn’t known you long he would die for you. It might have something to do with the contrast of your bubbly personality and how serious Cara and Mando always are.

“Oh that’s nice. So I get to meet him?” You look at Cara with hope in your eyes.

“Only if you don’t get too excited and do that thing you do that makes you overbearing.”

“I don’t do a thing like that.” Cara just looks at you with a straight face. “Oh come on Care, I didn’t do it with Greef!”

“That’s true.” Greef points at you and looks at Cara.

“Mando is different though Y/n, he’s got this kid with him-”

“Oh! I love kids!” You freeze as you clap your hands in excitement at the look she’s giving you. “Sorry.”

“He’s real protective of it. You can’t get all excited and run towards it, okay?”

“Okay, fine I won’t do the thing. Even though I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Then you can meet him. Now, where do you want to start today?”

“Idk I figured we could just like catch up and then maybe you could show me the school.” You look up at her with pleading, hopeful eyes.

“That sounds great.”

Greef gets your attention after that, telling you about how they fixed the place up. You don’t see it but Cara gives you a sad smile as she speaks. She knows how much you love kids, how much you’ve always loved kids. She remembers how when the two of you were younger you would carry around stuffed toys and care for them as if they were children. How the two of you used to lay in the grass looking up at the stars and talk about anything and everything, oftentimes it led to you talking about how you can’t wait to have kids and shower them with all the love in the galaxy. She also remembers the broken expression on your face when you were told that you couldn’t have children of your own.

“Cara?” You wave your hand in front of her face to get her attention. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

***

Cara makes her way with you through the paths of the city knowing that you’re definitely gonna overreact at seeing the kid. You’re walking close to her and going on about how you’re so glad that she has friends now because for as long as you can remember she would tell you that she doesn’t need friends, she only needs you. Well that’s until you break off mid thought because you see him.

“A baby!” You speed up to pick up the little green bundle and Cara just misses your arm to stop you.

“Y/n stop.” You don’t pay any attention though and next thing you know there’s a blaster in your face and a mandalorian is holding the kid in his arm.

“Um, hi?” You give him a small wave and move your head to get a better look at the kid rather than the gun. Meanwhile the kid coos lightly and reaches an arm out to you, your mouth opens a bit at how cute he is. As you move to reach out to him the mandalorian grabs your wrist with the hand that was just holding the blaster.

“Who are you?” As a small ‘ow’ comes out of your mouth the kid coos as if he was upset with it. This causes the mandalorians' grip to loosen enough for you to take yours from it.

“I’m Y/n!” You smile up at the helmeted man and hold your hand out for him to shake. This confuses Din because he had just had a gun to your head and a harsh grip on your wrist, and yet you’re beaming up at him.

“Mando, hi, this is my cousin.” Cara stops next to you. “Y/n, this is Mando.” You bring your hand back to your side realizing he wasn’t gonna take it and turn to look at Cara.

“Did I do the thing?”

“Kinda.”

“Sorry.” You step back as you turn your attention back to Mando. Behind his helmet Din scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion. What do you have to be sorry for other than just trying to see the kid.

“Is there lodging?” Din focuses on Cara instead of saying anything to you. She just nods at him and motions for him to follow her. You walk with Cara purposely making sure to stay close to her so you don’t end up being overbearing to her friend.

Once in the room Din will be staying in he gently places Grogu on the bed before turning to rest his pistol on the table next to the bed.

“So what brings you to town this time?” Cara leans against the doorway and you stay out in the hall.

“I need a ship or at the very least repairs.”

“The repairs can happen, I’m not sure about the new ship though.”

“Who’s the freighter I landed next to belong to? I haven’t seen that around before.”

“Oh, that’s mine!” You enter the room with your hand raised a bit. Mando doesn’t even need to say anything or react for you to just know what he’s about to ask. “And she’s not for sale.” Din watches as you cross your arms and squint your eyes at him. He just puts his hands up in a mock surrender and sits on the bed.

“C’mon let’s give Mando some privacy.”

“Oh, I can give you and Greef a tour of my ship now!” Din watches as you bounce on your feet with each step you take out of the room. He finds himself noticing that after you leave, the room grows the smallest bit darker. He brushes the observation off as his eyes playing tricks on him and lays down on the bed ready for a good rest. He’s asleep when Grogu slips out of the room.

***

“This is quite the freighter you have.” Greef says from the passenger seat behind you.

“Isn’t Comet great!” You rub the dashboard with love as you speak. “She’s the only family I have left other than Cara, so I make sure she stays in tip top shape.” A small sad smile makes its way onto your lips as it always does nowadays when you think about Alderaan.

The door to the cockpit opens drawing all of your attention to it. Grogu coos as he looks around until his eyes land on you. He makes his way over to you and as he reaches your feet you bring him into your arms. Cara and Greef share a look with each other from the minute they see him.

“You are just the cutest little thing!” As you bring him up to be face to face with you Cara stands up to see if Mando is with him.

“Hey kid, where’s Mando?” Greef only gets a head tilt in response.

Meanwhile Din wakes up asking if Grogu wanted to go get some food just to be met with silence. He shoots up and looks around the room for some sign, any sign, of the kid. All he finds is the cracked open door and that’s enough to make him jump to action, quickly grabbing his blaster and speeding out of the inn. His first thought is to just find the kid but as he’s rushing through the city his next thought is that he should find Cara and Greef to help him.

“He’s gotta be worried sick, you can’t just wander away little one.” Grogus’ blabbering pulls Dins attention to the conversation. “Let’s get you back to your papa cutie.” Din rounds a corner and there’s the short girl from before smiling down at Grogu in her arms. He swears that when you look up and smile at him the world brightens like before in his room. “Look there he is.”

“Give him to me.” He speaks once you’re stopped in front of him and you nod as you hold Grogu out to him. As Mando brings him into his chest he coos and reaches out to you.

“Oh little one, it’s okay I’m still right here.” You step towards the child and let him grab onto your finger. Din can feel the heat coming from you through his clothes, penetrating his skin. He can’t help but to think about how much you look like a mother as he tilts his head down to watch you kiss Grogus head.

***

A few days pass and you spent as much time with Cara as you could, however the kid has barely allowed you out of his sight before he’s running away from the mandalorian to find you. You’ve wanted kids for so long that you don’t even question it, you just embrace him with open arms. Din however, Din can’t figure out why Grogu is so attached to you or why his own world is so much brighter when you’re around. He asked Cara about it once not outright but it was hinted at. All she had to say about it was that you’ve been like that your whole life, that your bubbly personality helped to spread joy to whoever was around you. But Din doesn’t think she understood what he meant though, he never mentioned the way his heart would swell while seeing you with Grogu.

The day comes when Din needs to get going, the two of them still can’t stay in one place for too long, and he’s nervous on how to tell the kid. Luckily for him he has Cara and Greef on his side. They helped plan to have everyone at the ships at the same time.

“Wow, this really is a piece of shit ship.” You walk around the broken x wing with the child safely in your arms.

“Why I was looking for a new one.” You shrug off how grumpy he sounds and walk back towards him. You know what’s about to come, you’re not dumb (as much as you seem like it sometimes), so you place the kid down on the ground and fix the straps of your knapsack and think to yourself.

Din picks up the kid while he has the chance and turns to say his goodbyes to Cara and Greef. He then stands in front of you not sure how to say bye or even if he’s ready to. And that’s fine because you’re too lost in your head that you don’t notice him stopped in front of you. When you look back up at him he just nods at you and turns to walk away. The child reaches out to you from over Mandos shoulder and his big sad eyes decide it for you.

“You could take my ship!” You watch closely as Mando stops and turns around, tilting his head as he looks at you. “I mean obviously I would be going with you, you can’t just have Comet. But this way you get to be in a nicer, bigger ship and the kid stays happy. I mean I also wouldn’t mind helping to take care of him and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind some help.” Mando just nods and motions with his head to your ship. You beam at him and turn to Cara to pull her into a big hug. “I’ll come visit again sometime soon, alright?”

“Yeah. Take care of yourself Y/n/n.”

“I will!” Greef is next for a hug, which he gladly returns. “It was great to meet you Greef!”

“Same kid. Don’t let Mando dull your light, he can be a bit of a grump.”

“It’ll be fine, I don’t let anyone dull my light.” With that you walk to your ship and open the ramp, waving back at them as you get inside.

Greef and Cara stop Mando before he follows after you.

“You better take good care of her.” He nods at Greef before turning his head to Cara.

“If anything happens to her Mando I swear, I’ll have your head.”

“She’ll be fine, I took care of the kid. I'm sure she’ll be less of a problem.” And with that he finally makes his way into the ship.

Taglist: @fanficsforheartandsoul @remmyswritings

[keingleichgewicht]

REGARDJNG YOUR LAST POST, DO YOU THINK YURA IS GOING TO DIE?????? WKSKDNXNCBJDJF

(the post in question)

WELL..... I MEAN IT'S A COMPLEX QUESTION........ BUT NOT REALLY.....

firstly i will point out that if we postulate that false disposition associates yura with death, or least the bright, blinding spectre of never-getting-out-of-here, of which death is a variant - then there are still at least two distinct ways to be associated with death, and only one of them is where you're doing the dying, and the other one is, uh, well, let me bring out the ol' screenshot again

whoops!

EDIT: had a brief moment of sanity and added a cut

secondly it is worth mentioning that the death/dawn/sun thing may not even be real anyway. even i think it's a pretty conspiracy board sort of business. i am sort of.... fifty-fifty on whether or not its various appearances are actually just regular, unrelated metaphors and i've been reading too much into it. and 'your smile is brighter than the most relentless sun' makes sense at face value too: it is a perfectly serviceable line for the dual purposes of a) emphasizing the louche careless cheer of yura's loser facade and b) making said facade and sanya's infatuation with it just a little ominous. 'brighter than the sun' sounds like a compliment.... but 'relentless' is a close relative to 'merciless', similarly to 'ruthless', and that makes it Weird. and yet sanya still says it like it's a good thing! hmmmm!!! sanya are you sure about that!!!!!!!

... and that interpretation in itself meshes really well with sergei's 'blinded by the sun,' in which that line can just mean.... blinded by yura.... blinded in equal parts by the careless mask and the danger, enamored with something that will not do you any good. you don't really need the big dawn-is-an-ending idea for these lines to make sense, is what i'm saying. and there is a couple lines where i haven't figured out yet how they would work with dawn as an ending, primarily that bit in message lost:

dawn can't break when the sun has burned to a crisp there must have been some supernova i missed

which is a fucking great line but if we postulate that dawn is death than wouldn't this be saying that death can't come? and yet nikita definitely, definitely kicked the bucket but good? what does it mean.... what does it all mean.....

thirdly there's potentially a lot to unpack about 'brighter than the most relentless sun' anyway. one may note for instance that she says brighter, so she is directly comparing him to the sun, yes, but she is also juxtaposing him with it; he is not the sun, he is something separate and yet more intense. which could also be interpreted at meaning he distracts her from the sun (which is the circle, which is the never-getting-out-of-here), rescues her from it, even - possibly however by being worse and more dangerous than it is, and let's be honest, that sounds about right too

and then there's also the fact that that bright facade is explicitly just that: a facade, even sanya sees him clearly enough to call it that, synonymizing it with those 'layers of rust' that come up later in the mill. the walls you build around your heart when you can't bear to care anymore. the way you get cold, the way you corrode. rust: which is the rot of abandonment. the industrial death of despair.

she doesn't call him brighter than the sun, she ascribes that quality to his smile... and way back in parties is for losers yura admits to us that the smile's a pile of bullshit anyway, it always has been! the smile isn't really him; it's a mask only kt makes him feel like he can drop (and isn't it fucking tragic that he can't do it for sanya, as occam's razor explores extensively.) so if his smile is the sun, then the sun is a mask, and he's something else underneath;

which makes sense too. a mask is a cage, it's another circle in the sand. the danger, the dawn, the death, that's something he's trapped himself in, it's not who he is - but it is who he's damned himself to be! and that's the thing right! he made himself a mask brighter than the sun, brighter than death, in the hopes of blocking it out, and instead he's just going to make himself as bad as they are. he's spent all this time trying desperately to be careless, because caring hurt too much ('and when the wizard gets to me i'm asking for a smaller heart...') and the trouble is that he's succeeding too well. he's getting what he's been asking for.

and on that subject: fourthly nahhh i just generally don't think yura's going to die. he's absolutely going to end in tragedy, but i don't think he's going to bite it, primarily because the other options are so much fucking worse! i say this constantly but at this point i'm putting my money on yura getting the traditional ending for roadside-picnic-descended protagonists, namely, he is going to get exactly what he wanted. or he is going to get exactly what he is asking for.

which isn't death, i don't think; he is certainly suicidally self-destructive, he wouldn't mind if he got himself killed, if he could find a cause worth throwing himself over the edge for like olga did, but death isn't what he's aiming for. what he wants is to get out of the circle, is to finally be able to change something, to not be powerless anymore ('i always wanted to feel like i hold my own reins!'). and i think he's going to get it, and it's going to be fucking awful for everyone involved!

that's yura's central tragedy, right: is that throwing away morality is the last act of rebellion he has left; it's the last thing he can cut himself loose from. and i think that this one is going to work. i think this one's going to set him free, like he always wanted, it is finally going to give him control. but at what fucking cost.

better to be a caged man or a free monster?

(one may note that this is like... moebius double reverse exactly the question that dima faces. life or death? man or monster? caged or free? i think about this all the fuckign time)

although i will say: i think.... and emphasis once again on the i think because i am only talking bullshit here, this could all go so many ways and they'd all be so good... that there is more or less exactly one chance left for pafl to end well, or at least almost well, even for yura, and i think it rests almost solely on sanya

side note: good god look at her face here. does she know? does she know how far gone he is? does she know how fake that smile was? and a minute later she gives him the brightest smile anyone's ever seen, but that's when he's looking at her. she only gives him this expression when he has no chance of seeing her face. does she know how far she might have to go if she really does want to follow him?

but the point is: nobody else really has a chance at saving the day. olga's in jail, anna's a baby, sergei's a lost cause, kt's been caged in a literal sense but foremost by her own despair, and let's not even get started on dmitry, but sanya loves him and maybe she has a chance at keeping yura from going over the edge. which is to say i think yura's got exactly one chance at a good ending and it's if sanya can figure out his shit fast enough to drag him kicking and screaming into being a better person

good fucking luck sanya i hope you kick your rat boy's ass

[zodiakuroo]

Break

issei matsukawa x gn!reader

read the warnings twice yeah?

cw: 18+, physical abuse, self-harm, mental illness blood, noncon, toxic relationship

It’s no big deal. 

It’s like every other time. The faint scars that line your wrists are evidence of exactly how experienced you are in this act. And yet, it’s somehow different from every other time. The urges have been manageable. With your new healthy coping skills you’ve learned to deal with the pressures of life in ways that don’t involve you injuring yourself. You were doing well too. It’s tragic how just one bad day can destroy your resolve and take away all of your progress.

Your shaky hands hold the blade to your wrist but you can’t bring yourself to break the skin. It’s an oxymoron of sorts; you don’t have the strength to fight off the urge, nor do you have the strength to make the first cut. The pain scares you, it’s been so long you can barely remember how it feels. But the pain is also what you crave; the pain brings release. 

You wonder what Mattsun would think. As faded as they are, he’s seen the marks. You know he has. He’s even showered them with kisses on the nights where he made love to you, slow and gentle, savouring every inch of your body no matter how flawed. You recall how he pressed his lips to your skin, how he whispered sweet praises bringing tears to your eyes while his long, thick cock was stretching you open and filling you up completely.

“My perfect fucking baby. Love you so fucking much.” 

But he’s never asked you why or when and for that you’re grateful. That was the most shameful part of you. The part of you that you wish you could erase and forget about.

God, if he could see you now, in all your pathetic glory. 

“C’mon do it” Your boyfriend’s deep voice echoes around the room. The sharp blade slips from your fingers, clinking against the sink. You didn’t even hear him come in. 

Fresh tears start to well up in your already bloodshot, puffy eyes as the humiliation of being caught sets in. 

“Issei I- It’s not- I’m not I-“

“Not what?” He should look horrified, disgusted even but instead his expression is blank. His arms are folded across his chest as he leans against the door frame, his large body taking up almost all of the space. . The lack of concern is almost terrifying. 

“I’m just- I’m-“ You stammer. How could you possibly explain away what you were about to do? What words could you possibly say that would make him believe that this is not who you are. Not anymore. 

“You’re cutting again.”

“No I’m not- I just-“ Rivers of tears run down your cheeks. Hearing him say those words is devastating. For the first time he’s acknowledging how weak you are and always have been. 

“Do it. I wanna see.” He doesn’t seem fazed but your emotional display, looking more curious than anything else.

“I- I can’t.” You sniffle, training your eyes on to your feet, physically unable to look him in the face anymore.

“Why not? You used to do it all the time.” He refers to it so casually, downplaying the taboo nature of the habit you thought you broke.

“‘M not supposed to.” Your fingers fidget with the hem of your pajama shorts. 

He’s supposed to tell you not to.

“Why not?” He furrows his brows just a little, almost looking genuinely confused. He stalks over to you until you’re rear is pressed right against the sink while Matsukawa’s intimidating figure looms over you. 

“It’s bad. I shouldn’t hurt myself.” And yet, even as you say the words, you yourself don’t believe them. 

“Aw you’re scared.” He laughs. “How cute.” In a split second his arms are around you, holding you in a tight embrace and kissing the crown of your head. The comfort of his presence is so warm and overwhelming, (especially in your fragile state) that you almost forget what you were doing in the bathroom to begin with. 

Almost. 

“You need this right? To feel better? Let me help.” 

In a split second the warmth of Issei’s body is replaced with the cold, hard ceramic tiles of your bathroom floor. The force of him throwing you down leaves you feeling dizzy and rattled. A dull ache spreads across your skull, throbbing at the point where it made contact with the ground. Before you can find your bearings, he’s straddling you, trapping you in place with both your wrists pinned above your head. The first thing you see as your eyes come into focus is the glint of metal in the harsh light.

You open your mouth to protest but all that that comes out is a loud pained cry as Mattsun delivers 3 cuts to your right arm in quick succession. He is unfazed by the way you wriggle and squirm under his weight because he’s too mesmerised by the way the crimson rivulets flow from his cuts dripping on to the pure white tiles. All you can register is burning pain where he’s sliced you open, sobbing harder now. 

Issei brings your bleeding arm above your head, licking and kissing your brand new wounds. He sinks his teeth into your inflamed skin, drawing even more blood from you, groaning at the bitter, metallic taste. 

“See? I know what you need.” He smiles down at you with his teeth, lips and chin stained red.

Slowly, he begins rocking his hips and you feel an all too familiar bulge pressing against your abdomen.

“Issei stop!” You shriek trying to fend him off with your left hand. 

It’s futile but he doesn’t like that you’re trying fighting him off when he only wants to help. His dick grows harder in his slacks, throbbing as he ruts on top of you ignoring your weak shoves and slaps. Mattsun isn’t satisfied. He needs you to bleed some more for him. 

Your left wrist receives the same treatment as the right; swift slices and then he discards the razor. They’re deeper this time so more of the crimson fluid gushes from the wounds. It feels warm as it runs down you skin and drips onto your shirt and face, mixing with your tears. 

Mattsukawa thinks you’ve never looked prettier. “Pathetic little wrist cutter.” He groans, moving faster, getting off on the way his cruel words make you cry even more. 

“Can’t do anything right. Fuck.” He leans down to lick up the mingled fluids from your cheeks, ignoring the way you plead and beg him to stop. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

“Issei please.” You hiccup, powerless to stop him. He has both your hands clutched in one of his big ones and uses the other one to grip your cheeks, forcing your lips into an open mouthed pout. 

He latches on to the cuts on your left arm and begins to suckle on them, drawing even more of you into his mouth. He never breaks eye contact while he humps your trembling body while his inevitable organism approaches. You’ve finally stopped screaming. Now you only whimper as the sobs rack your body. 

He’s never seen you so broken, so defeated. The light in your eyes is gone. There is only despair and emptiness. He can’t believe you’ve hidden this part of yourself from him for so long. Matsukawa fucking loves you like this. 

He leans over you, hips never stopping their motions and spits the fat glob of your blood and his saliva right into the gaping cavern of your mouth. It hits the back of your throat. You cough and sputter but the sounds are swallowed by Mattsun as he shoves his tongue into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself. He spits back whatever he licks up over and over, unbothered by the way your teeth knock against each other and the drool that runs spills from the corners of your mouths. 

“Just ask me next time, yeah?” He pants from above you with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and bright red strings of bloody saliva connect your lips. “I’ll cut you up all you want.” 

He begins to move more frantically the closer he gets. Meanwhile you can do nothing except lie there and take it. You can’t do anything but let him use your pain to fuel his pleasure. You can’t watch as his faces scrunches up as he floods his boxers with his cum because he’s broken you. 

The hot, damp feeling of his crotch against you makes your skin crawl and bile rise in your throat. The stinging pain of the cuts has already faded into dull throb. You thought you had used up all your tears but when you see the new wounds that will turn into new scars, the floodgates open anew. 

“There we go baby. ‘S all better now right?” 

[alderaani]

second skin

Summary: Neither of them can ever truly go back to the things that they were. AKA, i get emotional about Boba getting his armour back. No major warnings, spoilers for the Mandalorian season 2 | AO3

There’s no time, in the moment, to think about how it feels.

Just the split seconds it takes to snatch the armour from the Razor Crest’s bench and strap it to his body, long-lost shapes knitting back onto the scaffold of his flesh, even though his muscles have softened, his skin has scarred and his soul has weathered. He is an altered man, all these years and a few harsh lessons later. But in those seconds, and the long minutes-hours-days after, it almost feels like nothing has changed.

Of course, so many things have.

It is not until he is sitting in the cockpit, alone, the blinding light of hyperspace glinting off the dents in his armour, that he lets himself really feel it: how good it feels to have beskar against his body again. He savours the weight, the stretch and pull he feels when he shifts to change something on the console. The comforting cradle of the helmet against the back of his neck. His ever faithful second skin.

He’d forgotten what that was like. He’d forgotten the way you stand differently, the way it’s not just the metal, but what it means when you don’t have to worry about watching your back, because the armour is watching it for you. He’d forgotten the quiet sanctity of the helm, the slight hiss of the vocoder lapping at the fringe of his mind like waves on a shore. It’s a defect really, but to Boba it feels like home. Jango told him the story when he came back from a job, the armour still wet with Kamino’s rain. How someone had gotten the drop on him and jabbed a vibroblade into the seam of his neck, how he would leave that small flaw there as a reminder of his carelessness. Boba leaves it now because of that memory – because of the echo of his father he hears every time he speaks.

He hadn’t realised how afraid he was that he’d lost that sensation forever. Not until the helmet was back on his head and he could feel, as visceral as touch, the phantom weight of Jango’s hands on his shoulders, holding him steady.

For a moment, he can kid himself that he never took it off. That it was never taken from him. That he never went through those desolate, humiliating years alone, the heat of the suns on his exposed neck and each grain of sand against his skin a constant reminder of his shame. But there’s the obvious, of course. The rends and dents pockmarking the beskar, scars and memories they didn’t make together. The scratched paint, the frayed strapping, the places where dirt has caked unforgivingly into the joints through the negligence of someone who hadn’t understood its care.

But t goes deeper, past the plates and the dirt, and these changes he finds harder to bear. The places where the under-armour has shifted to mould to someone else’s form. The point where the paint has worn off on the gauntlet in a thumb-shaped groove, a nervous tic against a pulse point that isn’t his. Most insidious of all is the way the smell of the helmet is wrong. It takes him a while to figure it out, but he realises it’s the padding on the back of the skull – the places where someone else has fought and sweated into the fabric, making his home their own. Desecrating the chain between Jaster, his father, and him. The skin they had all shared. The promise they had chosen to weave into their blood.

Neither of them can ever truly go back to the things that they were.

Boba knows this. Has known it since he smelled air thick with blaster fire, a different sun glinting off the dome of a fallen helmet as blood soaked into sand. Deserts have never been kind to him, but they have forged him too, and this time will be no different.

He smooths his hand over his gauntlet, welcoming the way the paint flakes under his palm. He will strip it when they land, but he will not bash out the dents. He will learn them instead, how each feels under his fingertips, and in time, the armour will relearn him too.

It is all he knows how to do: get up, push on, and forge a new path. With this armour on his back, he will always figure out the Way.

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