#i know it's a tiktok word so I'm not really neutral on it lmao

[tenrose]

Romantasy is the new bit-lit

[ravixen]

omg yeah i meant drabble as in reaction! my sleep deprived brain couldn’t make the distinction lmao but yes if it’s not a problem i would like to request it as a reaction style thing with cheol, gyu, and kwan <3

svt + "why didn't you tell me?"

➔ reaction || requested

omg i’m sorry it’s 2am and i’ve been running on four hours of sleep since thursday can i please add soonhoon to the list 😭 thank you actually

➔ warnings: arguing, food mention || 1357 words ➔ notes: angst with unresolved conflict cuz i don't have space LOL, hurt/comfort? ; here's the original ask for anyone who's curious about the prompt. this one really stumped me! it feels like there's so much...context to fit into 300 words, but i tried my best. maybe one day i'll make it into a full-fledged fic because that tiktok and its continuation reminded me of my "svt + fighting with their s/o" (2021) and "svt + helping you out of mental health issues" (2021) series. pls reblog if you liked!

SEUNGCHEOL: he's been prickly all week. at first, you brushed it off, confused at his attitude, but at this point, you're sick of his stupid scoffs whenever you hang out with his friends. doesn't seem like he'll address it any time soon, so after another tense dinner, you bite the bullet. "you've been irritated all week — are you going to tell me what that's about or am i supposed to guess?" you cross your arms and lean back against the kitchen counter. you half-expect him to walk out of the kitchen, but he levels a glare at the table, simmering. "...why didn't you tell me?" you throw your hands into the air. "tell you what, seungcheol?" "that you used to date seungkwan!" that makes you pause. "what? i never dated seungkwan—" and then it clicks. last week, your phone brought up a screenshot from years ago that you never deleted: a dating app exchange with a guy you met exactly twice, both of you deciding after the dates that it wouldn't work. you didn't remember him, not even when you were re-introduced to seungkwan as seungcheol's partner; that's how unimportant it was. when you and seungkwan realized your past connection, you thought it was funny, but evidently, seungcheol didn't. "i never dated him," you say again, much calmer now that you know what he's upset about. "it was two dates a long time ago. i didn't tell you because i didn't know it was him. do you want me to recount every failed match i had on dating apps?" you raise your eyebrows until he relents with a gruff no. "besides, i'm literally living with you now. that's got to count for something, right?"

SOONYOUNG: when he's in a bad mood, everyone who knows him knows. he's good at schooling his expression into a neutral smile, but something about him is colder, more reserved. he's lost in his festering thoughts, and it takes a while to draw him back out. so when you flip over your phone to show him a funny video and his laugh is stalled for the fifth time, you decide to sit up and talk about it. he stays draped over the couch as you cross your arms, but finally he huffs, "why didn't you tell me?" his frown borders on angry, but when he toys with the hem of your sweater, you know that it's not directed at you, which is relieving — his anger is a force to be reckoned with. you wait for him to continue because he looks like he's turning words over in his mind. he begins slowly, "i trust my members with my life. all of them, but seungcheol especially. he's a good leader. takes care of us." you only hum, hand coming up to tug the short hairs on the nape of his neck. he leans into the touch. "and i'm glad you get along with everyone. i'm glad seungcheol takes care of you." there's something heartbreaking about the look in his eyes when he meets your gaze. "he told me that you've been confiding in him about your nightmares?" you suck in a breath. "it's not because i don't trust—" "i know, i know. he told me it's because you didn't want me to worry, but baby, i'm supposed to take care of you."

JIHOON: "what video are you watching?" you ask as you shuffle into his studio. take-out containers are laid out on the table, making you nearly drool in anticipation, and you're assuming the ones pushed to the corner are yours. you settle into a seat and break a pair of chopsticks. he still hasn't looked over. "hello? jihoon?" he grunts, eyebrows furrowed as he continues staring intently at the screen. you can hear a familiar song bleeding from his headphones. his standoffish behavior rubs you the wrong way, but whatever — you had a long day and you're hungry. you're about two bites into your fried rice when he finally pauses the video and turns to you. "why didn't you tell me?" you just keep eating. if he's going to accuse you of something and be mad about it, he better give you more context. "this—" he waves at his screen— "is your audition tape. you didn't tell me you were an idol trainee?" you choke on your food, and when he pushes a can of coke zero into your hand, you chug it gratefully. "where the hell did you get that?" and that makes his frown deepen. "i got it from soonyoung. you told soonyoung before you told me?" he tries to say it nonchalantly, but there's hurt that bleeds into his voice. you didn't mean to tell soonyoung first — it just happened that way because he overheard you talking about it to another friend and then he pestered you to send him a video. "what's worse is that i kept complaining to you about idol life...does that bring up bad memories? hurt feelings? i'm sorry."

MINGYU: sometimes you joke and say that he has a thing for praise, but it's true that he loves feeling needed and helpful, particularly when it comes to you. as much as you'd love his assistance with this one project, however, it's supposed to be a secret to everyone except jihoon who's helping as a co-composer. you were doing so well with hiding this until he surprises jihoon in the studio and finds you in front of the microphone. "what the heck? ...are you making a song?" the without me? goes unsaid, but it's written all over his stricken face. "why didn't you tell me?" jihoon shrugs and doesn't help when he says, "well, that'd defeat the whole secret aspect." "oh, so you can help, but i can't?" mingyu snaps, and it seems like jihoon finally realizes the extent of mingyu's mood because he doesn't say anything when you usher your boyfriend out the door. "why didn't you tell me?" he asks again, a hint of a whine pushing through. "i can write lyrics. or listen and give feedback. i've written songs before, too, y'know—" you put on a hand on his chest, and he swallows back his words, though you know he's dying to make his case. "why didn't you tell me?" "they told me i couldn't tell anyone," you say, apologetically. "they explicitly said not to tell you." he pouts. "i tell you all of my projects..." he mumbles, but he gets it — professional contracts come first.

SEUNGKWAN: he always makes sure that you're taking care of yourself, which includes getting all your vitamins and having enough energy to get through the day. one of the ways he does this is packing you lunch once in a while, and you've learned to accept it without protest, even if you feel like he's overextending himself. he makes good food! it's just...it's rare, but there's this one dish that he makes with soondae and you're not really a fan. you've never mentioned it because the topic never came up, and you were going to say something about it when it first appeared in your lunchbox, but he was so proud of it, saying that it's a recipe he developed himself and he was so excited for you to try it. how could you dash his hopes like that? but you know who likes soondae? mingyu. you develop a secret exchange that works for a while: your soondae for one of mingyu's proteins, and you're in the middle of this switch when seungkwan walks in and catches you red handed. mingyu looks between the two of you, takes his chopsticks in his mouth, and hurries out of the room. the last incriminating piece of soondae sits in your lunch container. "...why didn't you tell me?" you wince. he's not mad, just disappointed, and you're not sure which breaks your heart more. "you could've just said you don't like my cooking. i can take it." oh, and there's the pout. you're quick to hop to his side. "no, no, i like your cooking! it's that one dish, i swear! i didn't — i promise i eat everything else."

[thatdeadaquarius]

Beta Reader Needed - for SAGAU / Genshin Reader Insert Fanfic One-Shot!

Update: Betas Found! - Tysm for the interest, i have found beta readers! :D

Me rn: ⬆️⬆️⬆️ im not dead guys <3

LMAO I LOVE THIS MEME I see it all the time for artists drawing fanart on tiktok lol - but the gif wasn't on tumblr?? a crime, so I fixed it yw ✨

Hi! I wrote a whole 9-10k one-shot about the Reader/"You" getting yeeted into Genshin Impact, and becoming an Eldritch God (lmao this is so niche)

But I don't feel confident posting it as is yet, and wanted to know if anyone was feeling up to beta reading it?

I'd want you to check for:

any grammar/spelling,

if things make sense/parts that you got lost in,

and also check for Gender/Body/Race Neutrality!

Please comment below if so, and then I'll give you the go ahead to DM me :)

I'm planning on emailing you a Word Doc/Libre Office file, which you can add comments on, and then send your copy back.

If you can think of another Non-Google Docs method that still allows comments, I'd be happy to do that as well.

If any of that makes you uncomfortable, like sharing business emails, please do not accept!

I've tried to stop writing in Google Docs due to the new AI things they've got in there, that might steal my work in the future. Which is why it's this way instead.

The only thing I have to give you in return is a promise to write a little blurb request! (About 1k words :0 )

I've got other fandoms I'm in, and have only been really posting SAGAU over here, but feel free to check my pinned masterpost and choose anything! :)

Thank you for reading/considering!

☆

Safe Travels,

💀♒️

[fictiophillia]

Doing the trend

Bitches come and go- brwah, but you know I stay

With The Brothers + extras

gender neutral (pronouns weren't used)

Lucifer

You suggested.

He didn't know the trend.

And he also didn't want to do it.

As if he had a choice lmao.

Didn't mouth the word "bitches" ・—・

"Do we need to be this close?"

He liked that closeness tho-

Mammon

SO- HEAR ME OUT-

He already was happy when you told him you wanted to do a trend with him.

But he got somehow happier when you mouthed the lyrics "but you know I stay" close to him with passion on your eyes and a smile on your lips.

He himself doesn't even know why.

Probably cried.

And that probably was catch in vídeo.

Which people probably found cute and made it go to that Top Trend Videos.

Leviathan

He wanted to ask you but he was shy about it so it had to be eventually you who asked.

Moved away embarrassed before the time when he was supposed to.

You tried more times.

And he would do the same every try.

So you just published the better one.

You both wanted something romantic but all you got was a fail for people (including you both) to (respectfully) laugh to- (probably went viral LMAO)

Asmodeus

Was excited when you proposed that to him.

You both nailed it ✨

I imagine that it had like red led lights ambient yk

Like the lights aren't even noticeable just the ambient color.

It was the most romantic and passionate video of that trend, and probably got into the tops, congrats.

Satan

Wasn't exactly excited about that but he also didn't say nO-

This is funny to me because he's an INTJ and I'm also an INTJ so I just imagine we both doing it emotionless LMAOOO😭

But if you're not an INTJ or something of that kind (if you're ENFP.... ESTP.... ENTP...) then it would probably be chill.

Even cute not gonna lie.

Like he's all calm and you're excited 😭❤️

Beelzebub

Agreed but didn't show many emotions while doing it 🤠👍

Also didn't mouth the word "bitches" 🕴️

Like Lucifer's it didn't go viral--

But at least it was good.

And he really enjoyed doing it with you :)

Will ask to do more trends with you ❤️

Belphegor

OK SO THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE WAS SO HAPPY WHEN YOU ASKED HIM TO DO THE TREND WITH YOU- but still had the audacity to deny-

He's just too lazy to move 😭 he would even say something like "i prefer sleeping".

So you two just do the trend with him laying down and you on top of him like a dominate dom 💪👺

It was so original at the time that it also got a low of views (but didn't reach the viral. F.).

Simeon

Another one that didn't mouth "bitches".

(like duh that wouldn't be very angelic)

Soft the whole time.

You two shared the place of "prettiest couple" in the trend along with Mammon

SEPARATELY LMAO THIS AIN'T POLY😭

Sadly ^

Sorry I'm just such a simp for both

Pls they're so pretty and kind and-

Solomon

You seriously wanna do the trend with him...? 😐

Like.... do you need glasses or....?

But anyways- I'm not here to discuss bad tastes in fictional men.

I don't know, yours went pretty normal

One more video of that trend, that's it.

Diavolo

Was also excited to do it with you ❤️

He would ask to do the trend.

But I don't see him being much into tiktok and social media-

cof cof boomer cof cof /j

The video went smoothly, you both were so cute to view 💕

Barbatos

Didn't know what the fuck you just asked him but agreed.

Once you explained it to him he was more than glad to do it with you.

As if he wasn't before already 🙄

Like he felt honored you even wanted to do something with him.

In common with Mammon and Levi he would also feel glad that you even published it.

For them it meant much, like you weren't ashamed to be seen with them aaa💞

[pinkysberg]

adrian chase sfw alphabet

uh oh I'm obsessed with him. also this is gender neutral and i have written him kind of autistic bc i am autistic so. if u r looking for autistic adrian uhh i don't know here ig. *edit: i read this back again and there r so many typos n minor mistakes lmao. i write high and “proof read” high so. <3

adrian chase x reader (gender neutral) 2.4k words

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Adrian isn’t overtly affectionate. He’s honest and blunt about how he feels about the people around him, and likes to talk up those he cares about. He’s big on words of affirmation and quality time. Though, he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy physicality to a degree, he’s just less likely to initiate it until he begins to notice it might be someone you enjoy or becomes built into his relative routine.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Adrian likely meets you in at least one of his lines of work, and finds you just about as appealing as he finds Chris (maybe even more so but don’t tell Chris (Chris doesn’t care)). Any free time Adrian has, it’s spent around you. He obviously enjoys being around the people he cares about as often as they’re willing to allow him to be around. He’s going to spam your phone with memes, tiktoks, links whatever that remind him of you, or he thinks you’d laugh at, or just things he personally enjoyed, who knows if you care at all! He just wants to show it to you. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

If cuddling is something you enjoy, he’s always prepared. If it becomes routine, he’ll begin asking for it. If you initiate it, it’s likely he’ll want to hold you, wether it be him being big spoon or him wrapping his arms around you while you lie on his chest. He likes to feel like he’s protecting you, making you feel safe. But if he initiates it, it’s likely he’ll want to be held. Wants to rest his head in your lap, arms twisted loosely around your middle. Sometimes he needs to be held for a little while after particularly hard days at work (whatever job it may pertain to that day)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

If you asked Adrian if he ever wanted to settle down, he’d say he hasn’t thought of it and he’s far too busy with Vigilante (and he’s depended on around here, you know!!) to settle down any time soon. He also can’t cook. He’s a toaster and microwave meal kind of guy, for the sake of convenience more than anything but after relying on them for so long and never really developing any real cooking skills he’s a bit hopeless in the kitchen. (Does like to pester you if you’re in the kitchen though. Head resting on your shoulder at the stove or sink type of deal. Lots of questions about what exactly you’re doing). He is very clean though. The cleanliness of his space matters to him, and he’s gotten very good at getting almost anything out of his clothing. (for multiple reasons) He’s a stress cleaner, and he also must ensure everything is in it’s place. Wherever that may be. I mean, practically the first scene we see him in, he’s cleaning Chris’s place for him. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Once he’s settled into a relationship, it’s unlikely he’d ever make the decision to leave himself. You’d struggle to get rid of him if that’s what you wanted. If he was ever in a position where he was breaking up with someone he’d go to Chris, who’d redirect him to Amelia, who would redirect again to Leota who would immediately tell Adrian he cannot kill someone as a way of ending a relationship.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Despite not wanting to settle down, Adrian just views marriage as a level up. It doesn’t necessarily mean to him that he has to settle down, so the moment he feels he’s wanting to get more serious with you, can imagine himself doing this for the rest of time, he’s getting on his knee. It may come super rushed or several years in. Its unlikely that it’d change his demeanour in the relationship outside of him leaning into saying cheesy things about you two being married every other sentence. He’d get a kick out of introducing you to people as his fiance(e) and eventually his spouse, he’d want to tell everyone. He doesn’t necessarily treat marriage as seriously as everyone else, but he does understand it’s significance to others, so when he’s finally married he does enjoy the idea of being someone’s husband. Makes him feel special. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Almost shockingly gentle. For someone very capable of harm, he has a delicate touch when necessary. He’s stronger than he appears and his general dorkiness takes the edge off his extremely violent tendencies. But he is still very capable of being dangerous, so his soft touch comes as a welcome surprise. Enjoys dragging his fingertips in gentle patterns on your skin, or absently musing with fly away hairs around your hairline. He’s not the most emotionally gentle individual, given he has his own unique way of experiencing emotions, he comes off both blunt and oblivious, but at his core he means well and is genuine.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Initially, not a hugger. He seemed to lock up and get tense, a brief embrace with a slight pat on the back and that was it. However, once he warms up to physical contact, he actually really likes hugs. He loves to bear hug people and attempt to lift them, no matter how heavy they may be. He has yet to get Chris more than half an inch off the ground but by God, does the man try. He also loves goodbye hugs, likes to bury his face in the juncture of your neck, arms wrapped as tight as he can get them around your middle. He’ll squeeze you and take a deep breath before withdrawing and taking off. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He throws I Love Yous around like candy. It’s almost synonymous with thank you. He’ll say I love you if you bring him a snack, hand him something, listen to his cool fact, laugh at his joke, hold the door open for him. It’s significant to him but in the same breath, will say it for very minor reasons, so it comes out pretty fast.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Adrian isn’t an overtly jealous person. He struggles with making genuine connections, so he gets possessive of the connections he is able to make, but he’s unlikely to recognize it as jealousy and wouldn’t make it anyone else’s problem. But he will compete for attention if he feels you’re paying him less attention than you usually do.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Loves kissing. It’s one of his favourite pass-times. He likes to kiss hello, kiss goodbye, kiss good morning and kiss goodnight. Casual make out sessions are unmatched for him. There’s something very comfort about hands cradling his jaw, or brushing his hair backward as his lips work against yours slowly. He has a hard time stopping once he’s started, you’ll have to pull away and that’s when he’ll breathe out, “one more.” and press several more short kisses to your lips (and surrounding face) before reluctantly releasing you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Keep your kids away from this man, he’s a public safety concern. Great with kids under supervision, likes to play and indulge them in their games but also would offer to let them blow up appliances until an responsible adult intervenes.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Adrian has a pretty strict morning routine, he likes to wake up at the same time and get through his same sequence of tasks (awake at 5:30am, 30 minute work out, shower, plain omelette with black coffee, and brush teeth) and would prefer to complete them in the same order each day. This way he doesn’t miss anything. He tries to lift himself out of bed without disturbing you, padding out of the room as silently as he can. He gets through his tasks as quietly as he can too. Once he gets through this, though, he’ll flop back into bed on his front if you’re still there, resting his head on your chest or stomach. He’d hum quietly as you move to brush a hand through his hair. “Morning.” He mumbles, muffled by your pyjamas and sheets. Once you’re out of bed, he makes the bed every morning. (It’s very important to him)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Much like the morning, he has a routine but its much less intense. He likes to shower again -  because he insists he doesn’t want to take day dirt into the bed - and brush his teeth. He likes to turn the bed down himself, he feels quite particular about how the sheets are laying against him while he’s settling into bed. Once he gets settled, he’ll likely try and (not so) subtly ask you to kiss him a while before you two fall asleep. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

For someone who talks so much he doesn’t say much. Getting anything sincere out of Adrian is like pulling teeth. He struggles with being vulnerable because he’s used to having his unconventional feelings belittled or laughed at. He tends to use his chattiness and general humour as a way to avoid having to figure out how to communicate his feelings. He’s slow to give away personal details, his privacy matters a lot to him. However, he’s also loose lipped so he is prone to dropping random details about himself but finds a way to dance around elaborating if he’s pressed about it. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell you things, more so he’s not sure when or how is the right way after rarely having his feelings validated.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Excessively patient. Rarely angry. He’s a gentle soul at his core, in some strange way. It takes an immense amount to get under his skin and even if you do he’s pretty quick to get over the matter too, almost forgetting he’s mad in the first place. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Adrian has remembered every single detail about you, wether it’s something he notices himself or something he’s told it is locked away for good. He could clear a jeopardy board on facts about you with ease. Even if it’s something minor you can’t imagine mattering much, like a particular movie you enjoyed as a kid, he comes to you randomly with some old t-shirt with the movie title screen printed onto it, he says he found it at a thrift store and remembered you liked the movie. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Adrian remembers the moment you learned he was Vigilante and didn’t leave or resent it for him as a highlight. His identity as Vigilante is important to him, it’s significant and it’s something that often hinders his ability to form real connections with people. So, when you accepted him as he is, it was all he could do but sweep you up in a dramatic hug and press a flurry of kisses around your face as you fight back laughter.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Adrian can borderline on smothering with the degree of protectiveness he goes to. Likes to know where you are, is where you are safe? Do you have all the things you need, will you be warm enough? He goes to great lengths to ensure that you not only feel safe but that he feels like he’s keeping you safe. He would insist, however, he doesn’t need anyone to look after him. And while he does take pretty good care of himself, he doesn’t mind being doted on. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Maximum effort at all times. Adrian has never half assed anything in his life and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give you 200% effort every day. He loves to plan flashy, ridiculous dates (sometimes you even have to talk his plan down when he gets too ahead of himself and starts suggesting things out of your scope of capability). Acts of service are a love language for Adrian, so he’s always doing something kind for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has an awful work life balance. He has spent most of his time at work or being Vigilante, so he struggles with working time for you into his schedule initially. It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend his time with you, he’s just slow to adapt to new life situations.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Despite being almost criminally adorable, he does not know nor care. He likes to look presentable, clean and orderly, but generally speaking he doesn’t pay much attention to looking nice. Outside of his very strict fitness routine but that’s because he has to keep up with Chris, okay.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Once he’s more or less incorporated you into his life, he’d have a hard time restructuring his life without you. He’s a slow adjuster always, and losing you would be no different. So he definitely clings to the relationship as best he can.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Has a pet rat :) Introducing you to the rat is like introducing you to a child. 

[moominnyu]

bratty maid. [choi chanhee]

🐇🎀 mature content ahead !! minors don’t interact !!

🧸🎀 — pairings: choi chanhee (the boyz) x gender neutral reader

🧸🎀 — tw: nsfw. handjob. male masturbation. prostate orgasm (lmao). slight dacryphilia. groping, kinda? like once. use of the word master like two times. man in traditionally feminine clothing (??)

🧸🎀 — wc: 5205

“i look so stupid,” chanhee's arms hug his body as if to conceal it from you, blue hair covering his eyes as he looks to the side to avoid your mocking gaze, “and i feel stupid, too,”

you sit on the emerald velvet sofa of your shared apartment, one leg drawn over the other and arms crossed on your chest.  

in front of you, chanhee— his long, slender legs on display by the short, frilly petticoat he sports. he blushes under your intense stare, feeling himself shrink into the ruffled lace maid dress he's wearing. while long sleeved and quite heavy, the material is thin and breathable, so why is he suddenly feeling so hot?

“i didn't ask for your opinion,” you say, dropping your arms to your side as you signal him to turn around, “c’mon, twirl. let me see you,”

“well, i'm giving you my opinion anyway,” nevermind the spite in his voice, chanhee slowly does a full 360 for you, showing off the maid dress you specifically bought for him, “whether you like it or not, because i'm the one wearing this stupid dress,”

“good maids don't talk back to their masters, you know?”

something coils in chanhee's tummy at the mention of master. as if you hold great power over him, he lets his arms fall to his sides with a shaky sigh to allow you proper sight of his appearance. he's so goddamn weak for that stare of yours, to him your words are absolute and he feels so stupidly in love with you that he can't do other than comply to your every whim. that's the reason why he's wearing this dress in the first place.  

when you said he'd look angelic on a maid dress, he scoffed. he pushed your phone away from his face and tried to keep his eyes away from the male model sporting a rather revealing dress in a pastel pink color, thinking that there's no way he would ever wear something like that just because you looked up at him with doe eyes and a cute pout. the idea lingered on his mind, though, it was impossible to shake off; mainly because you began to circulate through maid tiktok, follow maid dress wearing guys on instagram and twitter, and now every add on your shared chrome account were maid or lolita dresses for sale on cosplay stores. chanhee thought he already had his plate full with his members teasing him for his feminine gestures and posing, the least thing he needed was you, his precious partner, also thinking he was effeminate and that that was his only trait. don't get him wrong, he likes to be quite adaptable and likes that he suits both masculine and feminine things, but teasing can get too tiring and people can get too overly curious of his sexuality, as if that concerns anyone but him and you.  

and, for a week, chanhee would push you off him when you would excitedly show him another dress you found online. you've managed to found a nice, legit japanese website with a variation of maid and lolita dresses and made a point to convince chanhee to give in and wear one for you, knowing him well enough to know that he really was lulling over the idea by the fact that he didn't immediately shut you out after your first attempt.

and he truly was considering it. it didn't matter how high he rolled his eyes at you and how much he claimed he wouldn't look good, the idea lingered in the back of his mind despite his futile attempts to brush it off. eventually, he gave up when you showed him a certain dress you found on that very same page: it was simple compared to the others you've shown him, but still lolita-esque. a long sleeve, pure cotton and lace dress with a corset waistband and a petticoat black skirt with white trim that reaches a bit past mid-thigh. the neck is all frilly and has a big, black bow with a fake jewel in the middle. out of all the dresses you've shown him, this was the most normal, decent and totally not vulgar one, and the one he's currently wearing.  

“that's because they get paid,” chanhee retorts. he won't ever let you win an argument, even though it's purely bickering, and even though he practically already succumbed to you by agreeing to wear this dress in the first place, “i'm not getting paid as i should,”

“be a good boy and i'll reward you,” you say, smirking as chanhee's eyes widen for a careless second on his part at the implication behind your words, before they return back to his expression faux annoyance, “plus, you're allowed to change back at any time. i'm not holding you at gun point, you know,”

he rubs his thighs together to release some of the pressure he begins to feel in between them, he even tries to keep his head up so he can pretend to not notice how a small tent begins to form in the delicate skirt as blood begins to flow south. his head begins to spin. he didn't think he'd enjoy it this much; being so exposed to your hungry eyes that trail down his body, imagining you sneaking your hand up his skirt towards that part that's now aching for your touch, hearing you call him a good boy again, kissing him until his lips are all plump from your bites and he's drunk off your scent— hell, he'd even call you his master if that'd mean you'll give him what he wants. he won't ever admit it, and you'd have to pry such confession from his cold, dead hands, but he feels so pretty all dolled up for you, and it gives him such satisfaction to know that he gets to be the one that your eyes drink up with such lust.

“i want to make you happy,” he mumbles, under his breath, but he knows you heard him, otherwise you wouldn't be smiling so wide and accommodating your legs to receive him either in between them or on top, “but this is a one-time occurrence, so don't get too excited,”

“okay, yeah. shut up,” you beckon him closer with your fingers, and chanhee mentally beats himself up when he's a tad bit too fast to comply to you, almost as if he's too eager to do so. and he's not, “let's put the cherry on top, yeah?”

with the mary jane pumps he's wearing, he's a bit taller than usual height, and so, his breath hitches when he walks up to you and his crotch ends up right in front of your face. through hooded eyes, he looks down at you as your hands hover over his thighs, and he swallows a lump of saliva when you pull at the ruffled garter around his thigh, feeling your cold fingers against his hot skin. all his hopes dies when you let go of him and turn to reach the matching ruffle headpiece that rests beside you on the sofa, making chanhee let out a frustrated sigh.

“lean down,” you order him. chanhee leans down so that you reach his head, slouching his back a bit and resting his palms on his thighs, lips pursed and eyes still avoiding yours. if he makes any eye contact with you at this moment, he might give in and beg for your touch, but that's so uncharacteristical of him, and he won't let you have the satisfaction so easily.

you tilt your head and raise an eyebrow at him, “what kind of lean down is that? be more aware of your looks, do it more sexily,”

“what are you, a pervert?” he rolls his eyes at you for the nth time that night, but still complies and tries to stick his butt upwards, push his shoulders back and straighten his back. he blushes when you give him a satisfied smile, and, again, begins to feel hot as your gaze trails down from his eyes to his waist and finally legs, “yeah, you definitely are a per—”

words get caught on his throat when you, finally, once and for all, sneak your hand under the hem of his skirt. he can feel your palm trailing up his thigh, travelling back to cup one of his buttcheeks and pull it apart from the other. chanhee bites the inside of his cheek to let out any unwanted sound when you laugh at the way his cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrow, “speaking of perverts,” you tease, bringing your hand down and away from where he most wants it, grabbing the headpiece once more, “you're hard already, aren't you?”

“what do you expect?” chanhee pouts, under his breath, “you keep staring at me,”

“people stare at you all the time, chanhee,” you murmur back, fixing his blue bangs with your delicate fingers to try and style it in a 60/40 part, “do you get turned on even then?”

finally locking eyes with you, he licks his lips as he shakes his head, “only when it's you,” he lets you place the headpiece on him and then finally stands back to let you see all of him once more.

you make that same gesture to get him to turn around for you, and, again, he does, like a puppy being trained, obedient because he knows his reward is coming. and he can feel it, taste it even, when you smile and lean back on the sofa, already licking your lips like you're thirsty for a sip of his.

“you really do look angelic,” you say, and he watches with awe and anticipation as you begin to take your rings off your fingers, one by one, with a pace that's so achingly slow he's sure he's gonna melt before you even lay a hand on him, “i wish i could take a picture, i even have a few poses in—”

“absolutely not,” he cuts you off before the idea gets to bloom fully on your little, perverted mind, “you're definitely going to blackmail me with it,”

“or maybe i'll do other fun things with it,” you chuckle, and chanhee, again, falls victim of your suggestive words and only grows more and more flustered thanks to them.  

but there's only so much teasing and intense staring chanhee can handle. by the sufficient look on your face, the know it all smirk and your lack of invitation, he knows things aren't going to work on his favour unless he moves first. you already got the upper hand of the situation, and it's almost painful for him to have to let go of whatever little dignity he still has to get what he wants, but he feels so hot and he's so impatient, he can't wait for your hands to be on him, for your lips to meet his skin, he can't wait to be lost in the pleasure that only you can give him.  

so chanhee, pretty and bratty as only he knows how to be, pouts and looks at you through his eyelashes with frustration, “hurry up and give me my reward already,” he says, trying to keep his tone down because he knows sounding demanding will only work in favor of his already bad predicament, “i've been good,”

“indeed you've been,” you agree, and chanhee lets out he breath he didn't know he was holding, “a bit too sassy, but still good,”

so, finally, you pat your lap as you spread your legs a bit wider. this time, chanhee doesn't notice how he's, again, way too eager to join you back on the sofa. he climbs on top of you, placing each leg at the sides of your lap and his hands on your shoulders, just like he always does. the skirts opens up prettily and he shudders a breath in when he feels how freeing it is to feel his crotch directly on top of your thighs, better than any pants he could ever wear.  

and he's eager once again to meet your lips, letting his mouth agape so that you can lick into it. when you ease your tongue into his mouth and press it against his own, he's already grinding his hips on yours, his breath catching on his throat like his hands that catch the hem of your shirt to pull you closer to him. he's breathless, light headed, already drunk off you and at your mercy.

the moment you part from his lips to catch some needed oxygen, your hand had already undone the pretty bow that sat on the collar of his dress, and now you work to undo the first couple of buttons to gain access to his neck. he looks so delicious, pale yet pink, and it would feel sinful, a crime to litter such perfect skin with bruises if it weren't for the fact that chanhee himself already moves his head to the side to give you access, his hands that cling to your shoulders bring you closer to him in a silent plead.  

the second your lips touch his skin, he's melting into your touch. you have to grap an arm around his waist to ground him, and chanhee uses the chance to grind into your thighs while encouraging you to guide him, another silent plea to get him off.

“my ears,” he mumbles, or moans, one of his hand clutches yours and moves it to his chest to signal you to play with his nipples, “c’mon, kiss me,” and you laugh against his skin, thinking about how adorable is the fact that he, the most reluctant one to try on the stupid maid dress, is now the most eager and desperate one of the two.  

“you're so greedy,” you comply anyway. you like to let chanhee think he's got control over what you do to him, but when his hips buck upwards and he chokes in a moan when you lick along the shell of his ear you know he's playing right into your hands, already stuck in your cobweb of perversion.

his weak spot— his little ear—, has him covering his mouth with one of his hands when the tip of your tongue teases the little hole. his pleasure gets heightened when you pinch one of his nipples through the delicate fabric of the dress. he's immediately dropping his hand from his mouth to place it eagerly on top of yours and guide it to move how he wants it to, and you take the chance to move your lips back onto his.  

as the kiss grows in intensity and chanhee's hips begin to shake more erratically, your other hand that was on his tiny waist move down to his thighs. he feels you trail up the soft, milky skin until they disappear under the skirt again, and his new found fantasy plays in front of his eyes when your hand hover over his member, covered by his underwear, he feels so perverted when he twitches in your ghostly touch and moans at the thought that you're indeed touching him under his skirt and that he's indeed being such a dirty boy getting turned on by it.  

when you finally wrap your fingers around it, over the hem of his underwear, you notice it: the surprise chanhee prepared for you when he changed into the dress. instead of the boxers you were expecting, you're pleasantly surprised to be met with delicate lace instead, thin and soft under your palm, and sweet chanhee bucking his hips up to signal his need for you.

pulling away from him, chanhee notices your eyes glistening with anticipation, “a thong?” you ask, no tact whatsoever, no consideration of the fact that he might pass out from mortification from you mentioning it out loud. you lift up the skirt to properly look, but chanhee pulls it down before you can even catch a glance.  

“it's not a thong, i'm not crass,” he rolls his eyes, both hands pressing down the skirt so that you wouldn't try to lift it again, “they're just regular panties... your panties,”

and he twitches for a second time when your eyes darken and your mouth seems to go dry. it's not the first time chanhee wore panties for you, but it still has such an effect on you that he feels dizzy thinking about the power he, too, has over you, just like you do over him.  

“well, let me see,” you mumble, thumbing at his tip with reanimated energy, “need to confirm you aren't lying,”

“no, you just gotta trust me,” he puts his hand on the back of your neck, shivering as he brings you close to him again with a lustful look, “keep kissing me,”

and luckily you comply to his wishes, but only because you know you'd eventually get to see it properly once he's completely shredded off his inhibitions. you latch your lips around his tongue, sucking on the wet muscle, for now content with feeling the lace around his hips and butt, while your other hand pushes your panties to the side so that you can gain full access to his throbbing member. messy up and down strokes have chanhee parting away from your lips on a jolt, his headpiece almost falling from his head as he drops it to your shoulder, panting heavily as his hips follow the movement of your hand.

up and down, up and down go your strokes, just like his chest and hips, every movement that he does seems to be around the ones you do, always so sensitive and reactive, his body possesses the honesty that his words lack, and he's so weak, melting in this hot desire, clinging onto you like you're a sip of cold water to clench his painful thirst, when you're, in fact, the very same flame that's making his throat dry in the first place. he's throbbing in your palm, heavy and wet, and he sounds heavenly, soft moans meant for your ears only, whispered with both love and lust, and you're sure he looks heavenly too, but he's too busy hiding his face in your neck, already feeling exposed enough to actually come up and look at you in the eyes.  

you paint loving bruises into his neck and jaw as you pull your hand away from him, eliciting a sultry groan in protest from the man on top of you, who comes chasing after your hand, sticky with his transluscent precum, trying to get you to touch him again.  

“shall we lube you up?,” you offer, your hand hovers over his face, teasingly, as you show off your middle and index finger, covered with his sticky substance.  

“yeah,” chanhee breathes out, his mouth immediately opens to receive both of your fingers inside. like a good boy, he cleans them with easy compliance, and you're sure you'd be dead under his mean eyes if you happen to mention how eager he was to taste himself— but you know the feeling, while salty, perfect chanhee manages to taste like sweet syrup at the same time.  

you fumble with the back pockets of your jeans as you search for something.  

it takes you long enough so that chanhee's halfway back to his senses by the time you finally found that thing you were looking for, and, as soon as he recognizes it, his clouded eyes narrow, “did you plan all this from the beginning?” he eyes the small bottle in your hands with a frown as you flick the cap off swiftly.

“pretty much, yeah,” you smile at him, innocently, before placing a soft kiss to his lips, “lift up your skirt,”

“you're a freak,” chanhee shakes his head in disapproval, but he complies to your orders like a good maid, and finally lifts his skirt up so that you can work with him. with his mind preoccupied with his own pleasure, he doesn't realize that he's giving you a full opening to his surprise that was originally only meant to be felt, and not seen, and only notices when he feels your fingers tracing the soft lace. his cheeks grow red and he frowns in frustration, and he hates that he gets so worked up by seeing you glance at him with your mouth agape and your eyes dark, almost as if you're eating him up whole.

when the embarrassment gets too much and he plans to pull his skirt back down, your hand immediately comes to stop him, you're tsking at him while shaking your head, “you look so pretty, though? i don't understand why you wouldn't let me see it,”

“are you kidding?,” he mumbles, his cheeks still tinted a flustered color, “it's embarrassing enough as it is that i felt the need to put it on for you along this stupid dress, you seeing it makes me want to bury myself underground and never come out again,”

“nonsense,” you chuckle at his words, leaving his wrist to drape your hand over his member again, feeling the lace under your sticky palm. chanhee's breath hitches and he leans into your touch despite your annoying smirk, “cyan is definitely your color, actually. maybe i need to buy a couple of pairs for you,”

“eat my ass,” he retorts, his lips purse when he a moan threatens to rip off his lips when you softly take your nail alongside his vein.

“i might will,” again, he purses his lips before he can let out the sigh your words prompt from him, and he looks off to the side as he runs out of witty comebacks, “but first, let's lube you up,”

chanhee's eyes get hooded when he looks down at his member as you pour the cold lube on it. he shudders with every breath, his hands shaking, almost failing to keep his skirt up against his chest, he can see his cock bouncing with every little twitch. as he spreads his legs wider, the lube drips down his balls onto your jeans, prompting a gasp from him.  

“your— your jeans,” he says, and then he looks around, realizing the place you're at, “the sofa—nnh!,”

your hand that grabs his cock again forces every worry and thought on his mind out the window, and he bites his lip to avoid raising his voice at the touch, “we've done worse things in this sofa,” you say, mouthing at his jaw when he throws his head back, “and i can always wash these, don't worry your pretty little head about it,”

your hold gets tighter as it gets faster, and you move your other hand to play with his balls. they're heavy and hot, and chanhee squeals a little when you squeeze one of them with more force than usual.  

still stroking his cock, your other fingers travel down his balls, middle finger slowly circles around his hole, teasing. chanhee feels himself immediately going into a frenzy, lifting his hips so you get more access to his hole, shaking just from your single finger trailing around his little pink rim, already high on his pleasure.

testing it, you slowly press your middle finger into his hole, finding it easy to slide it in, and making chanhee shake on top of you, his face contorting into that of pure pleasure, as he gasps and hangs his tongue out his mouth.  

“ah!,” he gasps, thighs trembling as he slouches over himself at the unexpected amount of sudden pleasure, “yeah! just like that! give me another,”

“already?,” you tease, pumping your finger in and out of him to stretch him out, your other hand leaving his cock to push his hair away from his eyes, “can you take it?”

“yes, i can,” he breathes out, grinding down on your hand greedily, but the stimulation isn't enough for him, “‘ve been good. please,”

“mkay, baby,” you find his lips at the same time a second finger finds his hole, and you greedily swallow every moan that he lets out when his pleasure gets heightened. you pull away from him, and he chases after you with a broken little moan, “you know what to do, right?,” and chanhee nods, immediately closing his eyes to prompt you to kiss him again, moaning into your mouth when you do.  

he hugs his body with one of his arms to hold the skirt up while the other gets a grip of his own member. you let him set his own pace, following it with your fingers that still pump in and out of him. and you smile tenderly at him when drops his forehead on top of yours as he teases himself, slowing down his strokes and palming at his sensitive tip, lustful eyes locked on yours as you slow down your movements as well, trying to match him. he gradually speeds up, his strokes growing sloppy as he loses focus and begins to bounce on your lap, long lashes stained with salty tears and pink lips wet with his own drool.

he babbles something incoherent, tongue out for you to suckle on as you can't reach his covered nipples. you realize that, by this point, he's doing most of the job himself, squirming and shaking, teasing himself and stroking his member in the way you usually do, using your hand for his pleasure.  

you get drunk on the way he looks, a dreamy mess of messy hairs and lewd expression, with tears that roll down his reddened cheeks and trembly lips, bruised by the kisses you've shared but still searching for yours eagerly.  

“‘m close,” you can feel him tremble on top of you, the hold on his skirt gets weaker and the frill falls back on his lap, but it doesn't hinder his stroking for a second, “you have to let me cum,” he presses his forehead to yours and breathes out in your face, saccharine breath smelling of honey and himself.

“good maids don't talk to their master like that,” you use your free hand to lift his skirt once again, your eyes traveling down to his red member, watching the swollen tip disappear and reappear in his fist with each stroke of his palm, precum trailing down his long fingers. you curl your fingers inside of him and he reacts almost violently, the nails of his unoccupied hand digging into your wrist as he shakes and his pretty voice breaks into a high pitched whine.  

“please, master,” finally, he gives in, pitifully and embarrassingly, with cheeks flushed crimson and tears flowing into an all out cry. there's still traces of love in your eyes when you drink his reactions with possessiveness, and even in your sinful, perverted state of mind you feel heavenly blessed to be able to see him like this, completely drunken off pleasure and fucked out of his mind, “please, forgive me, master, i just— i need to cum,”

and normally you would press further into it, tease chanhee and make him beg for it to make up all those other times when he's been too bratty and sassy, to show him who holds the upper hand, who's the one in charge of who— but right now, that thought doesn't even cross your mind, you're way too enamoured by him at this moment, by your pretty choi chanhee who's crying diamond tears of pleasure, your perfect choi chanhee who's edged himself so much he trembles even at the mere feeling of your breath on him, your baby chanhee, all dolled up with his little dress and black pumps, who's eyes flutter firmly closed as he frowns at your lack of a quick answer.

“please—,” he hiccups, cutting himself off unintentionally.  

“go on, baby,” you coo, voice so mellow that chanhee melts further on top of you, “let it go,”

his breath stutters alongside his high pitched whines, his hips move upwards, uncoordinated and unintended, as he jerks hard in your lap, grinding desperately into your hand. you help him through his orgasm, curling and scissoring your fingers and using your other hand to replace his, that was clumsily trying to rub his cock out. his eyes widen when he feels it wash over him, the overwhelming amount of sinful, golden pleasure, but he does his best to follow your rule of eye contact even during his intense orgasm, that has hot spurts of white, sticky liquid squirting from his swollen cock and splashing on his pretty face and both of your chests.

he lets out a pornographic moan as he spams hard on top of you, his thighs trembling and eyes rolling at the back of his head. you help him ride it out with languid strokes and soft pumps of your fingers, watching in first class seat how sinful your usually angelic looking boyfriend looks all fucked out, with his pupils blown wide and his lips bitten raw, his own cum staining his delicate face a depraved color, thick globes that fall from his long eyelashes to his soft cheeks.  

when he comes down, he can barely think properly, let alone speak. he falls limp on top of you, head on your shoulder and arms dead at his sides, breath heavy and ragged. he shuts his eyes and whimpers a final time when he feels your hand sneak on his waist.

“see? that wasn't so bad, was it?,” you tease, chanhee still a weak tremor under your touch, “that was such a prostate orgasm, probably the most intense one you've had,” you make a small pause, one of your hands caresses his back, and then moves upwards to stroke his soft hair after taking out the already halfway fallen headpiece, “did you secretly enjoy dressing up? you can tell me, i won't tell anyone,”

you know he knows you're teasing him, you can tell by the way he whines in annoyance and slowly lifts his head from your shoulder. using this opportunity to wipe his face clean with his own skirt, you smile at him innocently when he narrows his eyes at you with spite.

“i didn't,” now with a clean face and a less clouded mind, chanhee blushes and shakes his head with a pout. again, he'd be caught dead before he'd admit it out loud, “it's just been a while since last time, i was sensitive,”

“mmh, yeah, sure,” and he sighs dreamily when you kiss his cheek, salty with a mixture of now wiped tears and cum, and then melts into your touch again when you trail your kisses down his jaw and neck, his hands already clinging to your shoulders, “should we clean you up?”

his eyes widen at your question, and he's quick as lightning to shake his head and bring you closer to him almost as desperately as he did before, hands blindly fishing for yours to place them on his waist.  

“no,” he says, and now he doesn't care how eager or desperate he sounds, “aren't you going to fuck me in this dress? been waiting all night for it,”

“if that's what my sweet baby wants, then yeah.”

🧸🎀 — luna's notes: this was supposed to be a cute, short timestamp but i am a sucker for men in dresses and choi chanhee and this ended up being super long so sorry lmao. also i had to look up how high can semen go to confirm it could land on his face if he was at the right angle (apparently it can go past 8ft and travel 45kms an hour, you're welcome) but anyways enjoy this mess i wrote in like three hours, i hope the mental image of chanhee in a maid dress lives rent free on yalls minds like it does in mine. xoxo.  

[the-last-airblender]

Chapter 5: The Siege (part 1)

You gaze after him until he’s out of sight again, the same strange feeling from before distracting you to the point where you only notice the footsteps when they are right behind you.

This is part of the Run series, check out the masterlist for the other chapters

Word count: 9,2k whoops

Notes: Din Djarin x fem reader. As you can probably tell by the title, this is a AU/retelling of the season 2 episode. The whole destroy-the-base-storyline is still there, but I’ve changed the story a bit so that you can have an active role in it instead of simply following Din around. It includes a scene very much inspired by this particular tiktok hehe. I had to post this in two parts since I reached the post limit lmao.

Warnings: violence, swearing, feelinggggsss owyeahh

Summary: Cara Dune and Greef Karga ask Din to help them destroy a secret Imperial base. As it turns out, you’ve just scored an invitation to the party taking place in the mansion the base is hidden beneath.

~

~

You look up from your book when the cockpit starts to get lighter by the minute. A glance outside tells you that you have entered Nevarro's atmosphere and a wide, rocky, volcanic landscape stretches out before you as far as the eye can see. Although Duugan is mostly covered in sand, the two planets are quite similar in their apparent desolation. On Duugan people are forced to settle near the places where water can be found, making agriculture -and therefore survival- possible. You’ve often gone into the desert at dusk to sit on top of a large dune and watch the sun sink into the sea of ​​sand. The beautiful colors the sky had turned in those moments had often put you in such a state of calm and wonder that you wouldn’t return home until it was too cold to sit still any longer. Duugan is a beautiful planet and its inhabitants are warm and hospitable. Too bad your now… complicated home situation will keep you from ever returning. You didn't have many friends there, but there are certainly people apart from Samick and Avlin that you will miss. However, after all that has happened, you aren’t sure if they will trust you anymore. The stories that are undoubtedly already being spread about you don't even have to deviate very much from the truth to scare them off. Certainly not for-

'Kira!' you blurt out.

The Mandalorian startles. 'What?'

'My girlfriend', you sigh, putting your forehead in your hand in desperation. 'Well, my would-have-been-girlfriend. She probably heard of my first escape and now she's going to hear how I killed my father and several guards and fled the planet… '

Din can't stop the wave of disappointment flowing through him and forces himself to say: 'He might have survived, if they got him to a good doctor. It's not like you stabbed his heart. '

The way you slightly shrink in your chair tells him that his remark wasn't quite as uplifting as he'd hoped.

'Still', you say, 'she hates violence and I'm fleeing halfway through the galaxy. Even if I found a way to see her again, there's no way she'd even want me anymore. Ugh, I always do this!' You rub your face in frustration. 'Every time I have a good thing going with someone, my recklessness sweeps in and ruins it. Last time, my ex and I were at a bar and when a girl came onto him, my drunk ass punched her in the face.'

Din silently smiles, for more than one reason. He would pay good money to see you drunkenly punch a flirting girl.

'Also, I ... might or might not have ... thrown a knife at her. If it wasn't for the alcohol, I would've hit and probably killed her. Needless to say, he immediately broke up with me.' You cringe at the memory. 'Luckily, my dad never found out.'

A silence falls as he starts the landing. When you look out the window again, you see that you’re just outside a town that appears to have been dug out of the rocky hills. A gigantic freestanding gate gives access to a wide street that is flooded with people. Vendors advertise their wares under self-fashioned sunscreens and people walk in and out of the houses embedded in the hills. Clouds of dark dust rise up as the Crest touches down and much to your surprise, you appear to be awaited. A dark-skinned man in a long coat and a very muscular woman slowly approach the ship, while Din shuts down the engines and gets up from his seat. You hastily put your book in your bag and hesitantly stop him when he’s about to leave the cockpit.

'Look, I need you to know that I'm eternally grateful for your help', you say, looking straight at where his eyes should be. 'And I'm sorry for everything that happened to you because of me-'

‘None of the things that happened there were your fault’, he interrupts.

For a moment you are dumbfounded, not entirely sure if you agree with him. 'Still, thank you. I was so relieved when you showed up. I don't really know what I would've done if you hadn't.'

'You would've found a way', he says, sounding so sure that you look away, your cheeks reddening. 'Besides, you did the most work in that courtyard.'

‘That's not true, my brother was a great help’, you shrug shily.

For a moment, he doesn't answer. Then he remarks: 'Chavez got away.'

You manage to keep your face neutral. 'I noticed.'

'Do you think he'll come after you?'

'Nah, he's got a city to run. Besides, he wouldn't be able to find me even if I walked around with a big-ass target on my back.'

'Good.'

The pod floats after him as he climbs down the stairs and before you follow him, you quickly wipe the dust off your face and loosely re-drape your headscarf. You throw your bag over your shoulder and climb down the stairs. As you walk through the hull and past the now empty pod to the lowered platform, voices reach your ears.

'And you, come here, little one! Has Mando been taking good care of you, huh?'

You smile at the tone clearly intended for the childs and hesitate for a moment, fiddling with your dress.

'Looks like you two have been busy', you hear the Mandalorian say.

'I myself have been steeped in clerical work', says the other male voice again. 'Marshal Dune here is to be thanked for cleaning up the town.'

Your hand grabs the handle of the dagger on your belt for a moment and with a deep sigh you muster all your courage. Then you step into the sunlight and walk down the platform to where two pairs of eyes immediately turn to you. All of a sudden you are very aware that you’re still dressed in your red wedding dress and that the gold paint on your arms glistens in the sunlight. Even though you've put your jewelry in your bag, you know you're more out of place than a shellfish in the desert. Determined not to show Din’s two friends your nervousness, you stop next to the bounty hunter.

'I knew I saw a beautiful face looking down on us,' the man says jovially, still holding the child, who clearly met him before, in his arms. 'Aren't you going to introduce us to your lovely companion, Mando?'

'These are Greef Karga and Cara Dune', says Din, after which he introduces you to them.

'Nice to meet you', you smile politely.

Dune sizes you up, no doubt wondering why the hell you look so dressed up.

'Where are you from?', she asks.

'Duugan.'

'Ah. How do you know this guy?'

'He... got me out of a bad place. Literally.'

She nods slowly and seems to settle for this vague answer for now. Then she turns to Din. 'Come, I want to show you something.'

As you pass through the meter-high gate, you ask nobody in particular: 'Is there a market here somewhere? I could use a new outfit.'

Karga points to a street on your left.

'There is a bazaar over there', he replies. 'You can meet us at my office when you're done.'

'Thanks! See ya'.'

You turn into the street before you can hesitate, your dress blowing in the wind. The staring eyes of the locals don’t escape you and you suddenly can't wait to get changed. The only other piece of clothing you have with you is your blue dress, which was still in your bag and is no less notable, so you will have to get some practical clothes. When you enter the network of streets full of shops and stalls, where many others are also doing their shopping at the moment, you curiously let your gaze glide over the merchandise. In addition to clothing, the vendors offer beautifully woven carpets, household items and all kinds of food that you’ve never seen before, from prickly fruit to delicious-smelling soup and crates full of strange-shaped nuts. As the chaotic mixture of scents enter your nose, you suddenly realize how hungry you are. A little later you’re, now a large piece of vegetable pie richer, looking at a stall with bizarre fruit, when a rough voice catches your attention.

'What’s a girl dressed like you doing on a planet like this?'

Annoyed, you look back at the messy-dressed boy who is looking at you with a grin that promises nothing good. Wisely, you decide not to dignify his question with an answer and turn back to the fruit, munching on the cake.

'Hey, I asked you something!'

Ignoring the boy, you point to a bright yellow egg-shaped fruit and ask the seller what it is. Just as he starts to answer, a strong hand grabs your pie-arm.

'Don't ignore me, you bitch!', the boy snarls.

Within a second, the point of your dagger is against his throat. His face turns white as a sheet and when the grip on your arm loosens, you calmly take another bite of your cake. He raises his hands defensively and walks back slowly, but you don't lower the dagger just yet.

'No need to get all aggressive', he grumbles, suddenly not so brave anymore.

You snort at his hypocrisy and look at him with your signature penetrating look.

'Don't you dare lay a hand on me', you growl. 'If you get near me again, I will literally stab you in the fucki- oh, dresses!'

Suddenly, you’ve forgotten all about the creep and you walk right past him to the stall on the other side of the street, while he looks at you in confusion and then quickly runs off. With your dagger still in your hand, you admire the simple but practical-looking clothing on display. The green-skinned salesman is watching you nervously, happy with the interest but a little afraid of your weapon. Just as your gaze falls on a long, dark green skirt, a warm smile reaches your ear. To your right stands a blond-haired young man wearing a light blouse and dark brown trousers, his hands in his pockets. The smile on his face is entirely different from that of the other boy, yet you don't put your dagger away just yet and you stay where you are.

'You'd think people were smart enough not to mess with heavily armed women’, he says, amused.

You give him a smile. 'There are stupid people on every planet.'

'I'm sure you're right.' He strolls over and holds out his hand. 'I'm Hal.'

After a moment's hesitation, you put the dagger back into its sheath and shake his hand.

‘Our friend handled it quite badly, but he asked the question that the whole town would undoubtedly want an answer to', Hal says as you put the last piece of cake in your mouth, wipe your hand on your dress and pick up the skirt to get a better look at it. 'Don't get me wrong, you look... beautiful. But… well… why?'

You raise an eyebrow at him and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

'Sorry, I phrased that wrong. You're clearly not from around here and you look like you're dressed for some kind of occasion. I just...'

You decide to put him out of his misery for both your sakes.

'This is traditional Duuganese bridal attire.'

'Oh.' Hal blushes and unconsciously takes a step back. 'In that case, congratulations.'

'I didn't get married,' you say, just a little too quickly, smiling encouragingly. 'They couldn't make me.'

'Ah, well, good for you', he says with relief in his voice. 'So that's what brought you to Nevarro, then? You escaped?'

You almost cringe and force yourself to nod.

'Yeah', you sigh. ‘And that's why I desperately need new clothes. I didn't exactly have time to pack my bags.'

'Sounds like you've been through a lot, lately', he responds softly.

You absently rub your thumb on the fabric of the skirt in your hands. 'I guess I have.'

Then you quickly pull yourself back to the present and hold the pleated skirt in front of you. It falls mid-calf and appears to be your size.

'You could probably use something fun to put your mind off things', says Hal, while you grab a baggy white blouse from the stall. 'How about you keep that beautiful dress on for a little longer?'

You pay the vendor for the skirt and the blouse and then take a good look at Hal. You can't deny you find him attractive and he seems very aware of the fact that he shouldn’t get on your bad side if he doesn't want to meet one of your weapons.

'What do you propose?'

~

As you enter the small building where, according to a friendly local, the magistrate resides, you hear a familiar voice, which tells you that you’re in the right place.

'And you wanna mop up the last of the Imperial force before they do.'

'Mando, I just want them off my planet.'

'If we could take out that one last base, Nevarro would be completely safe', you hear Dune say. 'We could be a trade anchor for the entire sector. And the planet would finally be free. We just need a way into Mayweather's place.'

You walk into the room and Dune quickly clicks away a projection, but your attention is already drawn.

'Did you say Mayweather?', you ask curiously. 'As in Tomas Mayweather?'

Dune and Karga exchange glances. It’s the latter who answers.

'You know him?'

'Yeah,' you say, putting down your now very heavy bag, 'or, rather, my father does. Say about him what you want, but my dad sure was well-connected. I only met him once, years ago, when he came to Duugan for business. I didn't know he was from Nevarro. Why do you need to get into his house?'

'There's an old Imperial base hidden underneath his mansion', Din replies. 'We need to take out the skeleton crew stationed there.'

'What stopped you guys from kicking them out before?'

'Mayweather is an influential and wealthy man', Dune explains. 'Most of the businesses in town are his. We can't just waltz in there. Besides, we don't have the manpower or the watertight proof for it.'

'Why would he even hide them?'

Dune shrugs. 'Presumably, he gets paid handsomely for the protection his status gives them.'

'So you need a way in', you repeat with a straight face.

Karga squints suspiciously. 'Yes, we said that.'

You dramatically put your hands together in a thoughtful gesture, visibly enjoying the little play you're now putting on.

'If only there was some kind of big event to keep him distracted', you muse exaggeratingly. 'Something that would make him feel secure and not suspect that people are coming for him...'

'What are you getting at?', Dune asks, unable to hide her curiosity.

You spread your arms.

'A little birdie told me he's having a party later', you reveal with a big grin. 'And guess who's invited!'

~

'Nothing yet?'

The modulated voice in your ear almost makes you jump as you lean against the city gate, your hands behind your back and your jewelery softly jingling in the wind. You’re not quite used to the communication device hidden in your ear, which creates a non-stop connection between you and the Mandalorian’s helmet, since you need to be reachable and it would look highly suspicious if you were constantly sticking your finger in your ear to switch it on and off. Besides, you wouldn't even know how -Samick had often teasingly called you “technologically challenged”. The fact that Din can hear what you are doing and saying at all times makes you more nervous than you care to admit. Before you left, you made sure to go to the toilet and you don't plan on drinking anything all night, lest he has to hear things neither of you want him to. However nervous you may be, his digital presence does reassure you somewhat. After all, you’re about to go to the lion's den with a boy you barely know, who was supposed to pick you up at the city gate five minutes ago.

'No', you mutter with a sigh.

You look around again, but no trace of Hal. To be honest, you also have no idea how he’s planning to pick you up, so you don't know what kind of vehicle to look out for. Mayweather's villa is located in the hills outside the city, which means walking is not an option.

Hal had mentioned that guns are not allowed at parties like this one, but you’ve casually ignored that. You did leave your blasters behind, as well as your daggers, but your six throwing knives -which can also be held and used at close range- are attached to your legs. Dresses really do lend themselves well to hiding things on one’s legs. Few have the guts to search there without good reason.

Your gaze lands on the Razor Crest, which is parked a stone's throw from the gate. A couple of figures scurry around the ship, probably busy with some maintenance or refilling the fuel tank. For a moment you consider checking with Mando, but then you decide against it. He probably has better things to do, like preparing for the operation. 

The plan had sounded pretty simple: you infiltrate the party and make sure that Mayweather doesn’t get wind of what goes on beneath his feet, while Din, Karga and Dune sneak into the base and place explosives, after which you set a small fire and ensure that everyone clears the villa before it blows up. Not everyone at this party will be an Imperial sympathizer, so you made sure they added that last part to the plan. If you can help it, you don't want more innocent blood on your hands. Plus, everyone will be so busy with the fire that no one will pay attention to what's going on downstairs. Mythrol, a nervous man with blue skin and fins on his head, will take the others to the base with his landspeeder. The tension between him and Mando had been palpable; they've undoubtedly met before and given Mando's profession, you can probably guess why Mythrol was so nervous.

'Are you sure Mayweather won't recognize you?'

'No,’ you admit, 'but it's been at least ten years and I don't exactly look the same as I did then. And even if he recognizes me, it's still not the end of the world. I can't imagine he's already heard about my… actions. '

'Let's hope so.'

'Where's the kid, by the way?’, you ask.

You don't remember seeing him in Karga's office.

'School', is the short answer.

You blink, confused about the lack of context, still not quite used to how frugal the Mandalorian is with his words. Not that you can blame him; he probably used to be alone most of the time and the child is not exactly a great conversation partner, as he never replies -not in a language you or Din speak, that is. You’re not quite sure whether he actually understands what people are saying to him. Though, he seems to listen to Din. When he wants to, anyway.

Then a yellow two-person speeder enters your field of vision. It’s coming straight for the city gate and after a while, you recognize Hal's blonde hair.

'He's coming', you announce softly, while standing up and waving at him.

Your heart starts beating faster and for a moment you feel guilty for abusing his kindness. 

‘It's the right thing to do’, you silently remind yourself. ‘This is best for Nevarro.’

'Alright’, the man's voice sounds in your ear again. And, a moment later, as if he was hesitating, he adds: 'Be careful.'

A strange but warm feeling seems to wrap you in an invisible blanket, but the speeder is already so close that you can’t react without being noticed.

'Hey, Hal', you greet -partly to make that clear- when he comes to a stop right in front of you.

'Hey, sorry I'm late!', the young man shouts cheerfully. 'Jump in!'

You climb into the speeder and while Hal smoothly gets the speeder moving again, you mumble, only audible by the gods thanks to the sound of the engines: 'Oh Adur, give me strength...'

~

'How close do you want me to drop you off?'

Mythrol nervously eyes the area as he maneuvers the speeder through the pass, half expecting stormtroopers to show up at any moment to turn him into a smoking pile of blue pulp.

'How' bout the front door?', Karga says coolly.

'It's a little close for a civilian, isn't it?', he protests cautiously.

'I got two choices for ya’', Karga says sternly. 'You take us in and I knock a hundred years off your debt.'

Mythrol isn't sure if he wants to hear the other option. 'Or?'

'Or I leave ya' out here to walk home with whatever's left in your humidity vest and maybe the stormtroopers won't kill your blue ass before you dry out.'

'It's not much of a choice, is it?', the blue man grumbles under his breath.

The speeder quickly soars between the rocky walls towering over them, to where soon a large metal door emerges: the deserted-looking entrance to the Imperial base. Mythrol brings the speeder to a halt.

'All right, we can't go any further than this', he declares.

When the others get out, he stays seated, looking around and ready to fly away at the first sign of danger. Dune takes a look at the control panel next to the door, which is large enough to get a sizable spaceship through. Din scans the area, but the software in his helmet shows no signs of immediate danger. If he listens carefully, he can hear music coming from above them, where the party in the villa is clearly already in full swing. He had noticed that you didn't leave all of your weapons behind and he feels relieved for it. Judging from your story, Hal isn't the one he's concerned about. The question remains whether Mayweather will recognize you -and more importantly, whether he knows about the events on Duugan. If he has been warned about you, he also knows that you came with a Mandalorian. What conclusions he draws from that information is anyone's guess.

'We have a problem.' Dune's voice pulls him away from his pondering. She points to the panel. 'I recognise this technology. This security takes ages to override and if we do even one thing wrong, it'll send off an alarm.'

'And then our element of surprise is blown', Karga grumbles. 'They'll be way more on guard after that.'

'All right', Mythrol interrupts, starting the speeder again. 'I'm headed back. Hit me up on the comm, we can set up a rendezvous time. '

Karga whirls on him, losing his temper with the nervous employee.

'You park your gills right there until I say otherwise', he snarls.

'I'm starting to dehydrate, boss', Mythrol whines.

'Okay, how does thirty more years off your debt sound?'

He frowns thoughtfully and then sighs. 'Can you at least be quick about it?'

'We could be a whole lot quicker about it if we could get our hands on an access key', Dune says, with a meaningful look to the Mandalorian.

He understands the signal and unmutes his end of the comm. 'Can you hear me?' A clearly fake cough tells him you can't talk. 'We need a key to get in without alerting anyone. It should look like a thin bar about half the size of your hand. Can you get us one?'

You cough affirmatively and he mutes himself again.

'Are you sure that's a good idea?', Karga asks.

'She's our best shot', Din says evasively.

'Why was she traveling with you, anyway?', Dune wants to know.

He looks at her and carefully formulates his answer. ‘She needed a way out and I got caught up in the situation. We got away eventually. Got my ass handed to me a couple of times in the process, though. '

Dune gives him a wicked grin. 'I would've loved to see that.'

He wisely refrains from dignifying that with an answer. The cuts you caused in Lossith have not yet healed and still hurt with certain movements. You’d known very well where to hit him. By now you’d offered to bandage them four times, but he’d politely declined, insisting that you had every right to defend yourself. Besides the fact that the Creed wouldn’t allow it, he can't stand the idea of ​​your touch on his skin for some reason. The thought alone is enough to spark something deep inside his chest.

Suddenly he misses the sound of your voice in his helmet and he thinks back to the ride here, during which he was listening to how you told Hal about the Duuganese gods.

‘On Duugan we worship four gods', you’d explained. 'We have two suns and one moon. Dedis is the largest sun. He is the god of wisdom and the harvest, because his light allows things to grow. Adur is the smaller sun and Dedis' younger brother, as well as the god of dawn and strength. He goes down first and rises first and often quarrels with his brother, who always has the last word - that's why he goes down last. When they’re gone, Qalla, the goddess of the moon and water, appears. She watches over the dreamers at night and keeps the nightly travelers safe. Finally, you have Yris, the goddess of the ground under our feet. She gives life to all that breathes on Duugan.' You laughed shortly. 'Admittedly, there aren't many of those on such a dry planet -you know how it is- but still. All four of them protect us in their own way. That's a very comforting thought when you’re fleeing through the galaxy. '

His gaze travels up to the mansion again and a silent prayer floats up to the sky as well.

'Maker, keep her safe.'

~

Seemingly casually, you lean on the handrail that prevents you from falling off the gallery. From the open second floor, which wraps around the large courtyard, you can see just about the entire party. Nevarro's contemporary fashion is a true spectacle to behold: women are wearing brightly coloured dresses and they’ve created the most bizarre and elaborate braided updos with their hair, while men walk around in loose-fitting and equally colourful clothes. Their hairdos are even more striking: apparently it is a trend among the wealthy to grow a big mustache and sculpt it into curly shapes -the races that can do that, at least. In addition to humans, you have also recognized a Rodian, whose green reptile skin and antennae are unmistakable, and a beautiful female Twi'lek with copper-colored headtails. An energetic group of musicians is playing cheerful music and a couple of guests are dancing to the beat. Your eyes slide over the dozens of guests and land on Mayweather, who is busy talking to a small group of men. His red hair stands out against his bright blue robes and on his hands, with which he gestures enthusiastically, a number of large rings sparkle in the sunlight coming through the skylights. Luckily he doesn't seem to have noticed you yet, clearly busy with his job as host. Moreover, you’re positioned somewhat concealed behind one of the columns that carry the roof above your head and the storey you’re standing on.

Who would have a key to the hidden base? Mayweather, of course, but it would be too ambitious and dangerous to steal his. The various waiters, their beige robes a strong contrast with the colorful guests, probably have no business going down there. The security, on the other hand...

You push yourself up from the balustrade and hurry towards the stairs, the heels of your shoes clicking on the turquoise tiles covering the floors. Hal has been getting you something to drink for about five minutes now, so you have to be quick if you want to avoid him. Fortunately, even in this dress, you don't stand out too much from the rest of the attendees. Once downstairs, you move smoothly through the partying crowd, making sure you steer clear of Mayweather, towards a hallway that you suspect leads to the private part of the villa. In any case, that you’re not allowed to go there becomes clear when you catch a glimpse of a Zabrak security guard, recognizable by the numerous small horns on his head. You take a deep breath and then quickly stagger into the hall, grabbing your stomach and panically waving at the guard.

'Ma'am, you are not allowed to come here', he says immediately, taking a step in your direction.

You spot the key instantly, clipped to his belt with a ring. Bingo.

'A bathroom!', you cry. ‘I need a bathroom, I don't feel so good! What kind of food are you guys serving here?! '

The man looks at you hesitantly while you say this and before he can respond, you throw yourself into his arms, wailing dramatically. He manages to catch you, but almost falls over in the process. You take advantage of his instability by grabbing the key from his belt in the kerfuffle and hiding it in your hand. Only then does the hole in your plan dawn on you: your dress has no pockets.

The Zabrak awkwardly pushes you away. 'The bathroom is that way.'

'Thank you, good sir', you squeak. 'I'm gonna go puke now.'

You quickly turn around and place the hand with the key on your chest in a dramatic gesture, stumbling back down the hall.

'Hey!'

You keep walking, even though you start panicking for real now, but you hear his footsteps coming after you. Silently cursing, you try to figure out where to hide the key and make a mental note to have pockets made in your dresses and skirts.

'Did you just steal my key?!', the guard snarls, firmly grabbing your arm. 'Give it back. Now. '

You open your mouth for a really ill-prepared defense, but then you hear a familiar voice behind you.

'What's going on here?'

Hal walks into the hallway and glares at him.

'She stole my key, Mr. Mayweather', the Zabrak replies.

The blood in your veins goes cold. Mayweather? Hal is Tomas's son?

'What?' Hal turns to you. 'Is that true?'

Your hand is still on your chest, just above the collar of your dress, and suddenly you realize there is only one place to hide the key now. As you turn toward Hal, you let the thin bar slip down your dress and pray to all your gods that no one sees it. Much to your relief, it doesn't immediately fall out of the other end of your dress and instead get stuck between your boobs, safely out of sight under the red fabric.

'Of course not', you pout, grabbing your forehead. 'I'm just looking for the bathroom, I’m feeling rather unwell.'

Every trace of suspicion disappears from Hal's face and with a short gesture he orders the guard to let you go. He reluctantly obeys.

'Can't you see she's sick, you idiot?', the boy barks. 'Look at her, she's white as a sheet! You just lost your key somewhere.'

You have no intention of telling him why you’re really turning white and you let yourself be supported by a concerned Hal. He accompanies you to the bathroom and then offers to get you a glass of water. You nod and enter the ladies room, but ignore the toilet.

'Hey,' you whisper as soon as you hear him walk away, 'I have the key.'

'Good', the warm voice of the Mandalorian says almost instantly. 'Can you get to the balcony on the east side?'

You noticed it when you were on the second floor earlier, so you respond affirmatively. Quickly, you open the door and when the coast turns out to be clear, you slip towards the stairs. Your braided bun wobbles up and down on the back of your head as you run upstairs, past a man and a woman who had clearly hoped for some privacy in the closed stairwell. Your headscarf falls down on your shoulders, but you ignore it and turn right twice, into a narrow corridor that opens onto a beautiful, gracefully domed balcony hanging many meters above the pass below you. It offers an amazing view of the volcanic, hilly landscape, but that doesn’t interest you very much at the moment. Panting, you put your hands on the balcony edge. What now?

Then you hear a strange, motor-like noise and the next moment, the Mandalorian appears in front of you. You almost let out a scream and step backwards.

'How are you doing that?', you hiss in bewilderment, staring at the man floating in the air.

'Jetpack', he answers shortly. 'Where's the key?'

It's his turn to be baffled when you put your hand down your dress and pull out the key. Suddenly he’s very glad that you can’t see his face.

The metal is still warm from your skin when you put it in Din's gloved hand.

'Go and blow up some stormtroopers for me, will you?', you say with a smile.

'Will do. Thanks.'

With those words, he flies away again. You gaze after him until he’s out of sight again, the same strange feeling from before distracting you to the point where you only notice the footsteps when they are right behind you.

~

Read the next part here.

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