#the only rule about their relationship is he gets to keep his helmet on

[mxtantrights]

Can you write a Jason Todd x reader where they knew each other before he dies but then they reunite. Maybe they were robins at the same time. Y/n has element powers and their eyes change colors based on element currently using. They are afraid of having too much power. Established relationship please!!! I cannot handle slowburns

Broken Bird comes home

the night Jason died was the worst night of your life. The worst. No other night compares to it. Not the night after you spend in the fetal position and crying. Or the night after the funeral where there was no body. Or the night on the first anniversary of his death.

Night time is the worst for you. You just remember getting the calls from Bruce and your whole world shattering. Jason was more than your friend. He was your first crush, your first kiss, first relationship.

He used to do this thing when you two would hold hands on patrol. Your gloves covered your wrists so he would sneak his thumb inside of the leather and rub the inside of your wrist. Something about wanting to feel your pulse.

You had stopped being Robin about three months before you found out Jason died. You never really felt like you could be as good as Dick. And Jason was the only reason you stayed on as long as you did. But even that had it's caveats.

Bruce relied on you and your patience and understanding way more and tried to get Jason to model himself after you. Even though you tried to be more like him, less rule following and more march to your own beat and ask for forgiveness later.

But sometimes the two of them would put you in the middle of their endless tiffs. It drove you up the wall. And one night you just decided right then and there to stop being a Robin.

It's not until after the first year past Jason's death that you decide to go back on the streets to fight crime again. This time it's very different. You don't have anyone to answer to but yourself. And you have no one to look up to anymore.

You don't pull your punches. You don't think in black and white anymore. Everything is gray. And you operate in the areas that used to scare you.

It isn't long before Bruce reaches out, because he's been keeping tabs on you. He asks if you're sure about what you're doing. And he tells you that you're always welcome to come back, as yourself not as a Robin.

You respectfully decline his offer. You hated him the first eight or nine months after Jason's death. You hated how he wasn't there. You hated how that clown just walked free and continued terrorizing the citizens of Gotham.

You actually got to run into him once. Tracked him down, got him all by himself. And delivered a beating that brought him so close to the pits of hell that even you got scared. Bruce showed up then, told you it wasn't right. That you couldn't take justice into your own hands like that.

His words had no affect on you. You hated him for letting the clown go free like that. And you hated that he had a new Robin already.

It's probably not until the third year that you find your footing. You know how to operate as a vigilante. You don't get too mad when you see the new Robin anymore. And you talk to Bruce to check in and still decline his off to join his team.

In those two years you get better at controlling your powers. Yo hardly used them when you were Robin. And after Jason's death you over used them, packing a few punches that moved tectonic plates underneath your feet. This was a balanced way of using your powers. You were coming to understand them.

And then your world shatters again.

One night while on patrol, you notice your being followed. So you take a few turns to lose them. But they're pretty good. So you decide to corner them into an alley way. One where you can confront them.

In the dark you corner your tail. He stands a foot taller than you. All that you can really make out is that red helmet of his. Nothing else tells you about him. He's even using a voice modulator.

You ask him why he's following you. He doesn't answer. You tell him to back off. He doesn't answer. You, at your wits end, run ups o him and are about to deck him when he grabs a hold of your wrist.

You try to pull back but he holds you. It's not that tight. He's not hurting you, you realize. He's just holding you. When you look down at your wrist, you realize that he's touching you right where Jason did.

You wrench your wrist away from him and take a step back. You're about to haul off a bunch of curses at him when he starts speaking to you.

"You're pulse." he says.

Your spine goes straight at that. Jason used to say that, why is this guy saying that to you? You moves to take another step back but you don't. You look right at him.

"Jason?" you ask.

The man starts moving at light speed. All at once the helmet it coming off. You see a tuft of white hair amongst the black. And then he takes off his domino mask. You see it in his eyes. It's Jason, it's your Jason, but it's not.

"How is this possible?" you ask yourself, taking a few steps forward.

When the tip of your shoes meet his boots, and he doesn't move, you take it as a sign that he's okay with you being this close. You hesitantly reach up towards his face but you take your hand back. You don't notice the storm clouds you're forming. Not until the rain starts coming down.

"It's me." he says.

You can't help the tears that come out of your eyes. Or how you start sobbing uncontrollably. Jason wraps you up in his arms. You feel your whole body start to go slack in disbelief. He's real. He's alive, he's here.

"I'm sorry I made you wait." he says.

You wrap your arms around him tightly now, "You're back. You're really back."

You pull back from him a bit, he looks down at you. You can read the worry in his eyes. You reach up and cup his face. He lets out a strangled breath.

"I missed you so much."

a/n: I had to stop myself before it came a behemoth and I dragged you on for a slow burn. this was really fun to write. Especially the elemental part! thanks for sending this in !! <3333

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ruin you

thank you @mattymurdock1021 for this request. I loved writing it and hope it doesn’t disappoint💌

pairing // mattmurdock x fem!reader

wc // 1.4k

warnings // 18+ only. smut. rough p in v sex, praise and degradation kink, climax denial, pet names, hair pulling, dirty talk. established relationship. no use of y/n. minors DNI

masterlist + rules

taglist

You were standing in the moonlit bedroom with your satin nightgown on, squeezing out the excess water from your freshly washed hair. Using your feet to swipe away the droplets that fell onto the floor, hoping that it’ll be enough to dry it. Finishing your night routine, feeling slightly parched and dehydrated from your hot shower. Making your way over to the sliding bedroom door to get some water from the kitchen.

Heaving the large door to the side, your body completely stiffened once you saw Matt slouched on the armchair in nothing but his boxers. You didn’t even hear him come home from his nightly patrols- you felt slightly disappointed as you usually greet him the second he comes home.

Smiling as you walked over to him, tenderly kissing his temple, brushing your fingers over his shoulders as you walked past him towards the kitchen. Stopping and turning around as he didn’t have any reaction. “Hey? Are you okay?” You ask sounding concerned.

“Mhmm.” You hear him groggily reply from across the room.

Picking out two cold water bottles from the fridge before making your way back over to the living room. “You don’t seem okay” passing him a bottle of water before sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Taking a few sips from the bottle, looking around the room to see his suit and helmet disregarded on the floor- almost as if they have been thrown. “You can talk to me, Matt.” You said, virtually in a whisper.

“Had a crap day- just really stressful.” He admits as his head drops to the side in defeat.

Circling your fingers on his knees “want me to make it better?” You sweetly ask. Wanting to assess the situation- whether he wanted to talk it over or forget about it completely.

His eyes darken slightly and the corners of his lips turn up into a wry smirk.

“I take that as a yes?” You flirt, fingers slowly dragging up his thighs with a grin. Getting up from the table, you take a new seat on Matt’s lap, straddling his thighs.

He heavily sighs as his hands immediately clutch around the dough of your ass. He quickly sucks in his bottom lip and clamps it down with his top teeth, growing painfully hard underneath you.

Loosening the tie of your nightgown, allowing it to droop and completely expose yourself to him. Starting to slowly roll your hips over him. Teasing your naked pussy over his fabric-covered cock. His head dropping back as he let out an exasperated groan, his hands travel to your waist and grip it tightly, clearly getting impatient.

“I want to make you feel good.” You sultrily whisper in his ear as your fingers lace into his boxers. He instinctively lifts his hips up as you tug at the material.

Spitting into your palm before holding him fully in your hand, softly pumping him a couple times before lifting yourself up and aligning him with your entrance.

Teasing his tip through your folds to try to collect some wetness to use as lube. Usually, you both spend the majority of your sex sessions doing foreplay, so today was something very different- you weren’t quite sure if you’d be ready enough for his large cock. Deciding to continue on, you wanted to make him feel good- with that in mind it started to do the same for you.

You sharply inhale as you slowly sink down onto the head of his cock, a deep guttural groan escaping from Matt’s agape mouth. Wincing at the shooting pain as you lower down on him, keeping still to adjust- completely bottomed out.

His teeth graze over your nipples in front of his face, hastily kissing wet patches over the sensitive skin on your breasts. Your head fell back, breathing heavily into the air.

“I need you.” He urges, as he slowly starts to thrust upwards into you.

Tightly gripping onto his shoulders, itching yourself away from his thrusts.

He looks up at you between your tits with a taunting smirk pulling at his lips. “What? You can’t even ride a cock?”

“I can- just, wait a sec.” Now fully adjusted and moulded to him, you sink back down onto his length. Face contorting in bliss as your eyebrows twist inwards.

“Pathetic thing. You need me to fuck you?”

Shaking your head no “nhm hm.”

“Want me to fuck you? Hm? Do you want me to make you feel all good inside? Yeah?” He grits in between open kisses on your chest.

Feeling your arousal grow bigger at his dirty talk. You wanted to be the one in control, but he has such a way with words that you had considered cracking and saying yes.

“Want me to ruin you? You can’t even ride a cock, you dumb little slut. I can make you feel good Angel, mhm?”

Caving in, nodding your head enthusiastically “please- yes.” You whine.

Wasting no time, he swiftly picks you up and places you down on the seat of the armchair facing you away from him. He stands extremely close behind you, slapping his cock over the cheeks of your ass. Readjusting your stance on your knees, widening your thighs apart. Arching your back and extending your hips towards him, wrapping your arm over the back of the chair for support.

He holds his cock in his hand, steadily sliding through your folds from behind. “Want me to destroy your pretty pussy, yeah?” He teases as he leans himself over you, sloppily kissing all down your back.

Replying “yes” a bit too eagerly.

“Good.” He says as he stands up straight, slapping your ass firmly before ramming himself inside of you with no warning, causing a deep moan to escape from the pair of you.

He pulls out before ploughing back into you, gripping your waist to make you match his continuous thrusts.

“I want to hear your pretty noises.” He says as he snakes his hand up the nape of your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair from the root before tugging at it, pulling your face from the cushion that was muffling your moans.

His thrusts grow relentless, repeating hitting the spots you both loved- becoming a hasty fury. You knew Matt loved the sounds you made, so you didn’t hold them back, allowing all genuine noises to escape your open mouth.

He leans back over you while he continued to pound into you, kissing your neck from behind, grazing his teeth and sucking on the delicate skin- purposely wanting to leave behind branding marks.

Letting go of your hair, he plants his hands back onto your waist, tightly squeezing it as he rams into you. Fucking you into him.

He pushes your chest down into the seat, allowing a new angle to directly hit your g-spot. “You like it when I ruin you like this? You like the way it makes you feel?”

Only being able to moan “mhmm.”

“I know you do.” Slapping and grabbing your ass, trying to stop himself from coming too soon.

Your inner thighs became very slick, a combination of your juices and his precum ran down them, collecting in a puddle on the seat. The sound of his balls hitting your clit from behind echoed around the apartment, the air full of pure arousal.

Growing desperately closer, your walls tightened around him.

“Not yet. Wait for me. I want to cum with you.” He quickly spits out.

Whining a couple pleases, telling him you can’t hold it.

“You gotta wait or I’ll stop, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop fucking you like a whore? Huh?”

“No.” You whimpered, the last thing you wanted was for him to stop.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Hold it, you needy thing.”

His cock twitching tells you that he’s very close too. “Cum when I get to one.” He grits, not slowing down.

“Three…two” he pauses on purpose, edging you more, earning a frustrated whine from you. “You want me to say it, don’t you pretty girl? … one.”

With that you both let go, spasming and jolting on his cock while he spray-painted inside of you. Your walls milking more his essence as he slowed down. Collapsing himself over you, whimpering into the skin of your back.

“Oh, good job.” He sweetly says, tracing his fingers down your spine. “Such a good, pretty girl.”

Slowly pulling himself out of you with a groan. His arms wrap around your stomach, picking you up so that he can slump into the chair with you atop. You rested your head into the crook of his neck, bringing your knees up and placing your feet onto the arm of the seat, cuddling into him.

“Please me about your day? What’s been on your mind?” you sweetly ask looking up at him, delicately rubbing soothing circles on his chest.

[hotlikewasabi521]

imagine, if you will, a sbg fantasy au

I don't know if anyone's done this yet but here we go! I'm a huge fantasy nerd, so I might be biased here, but I think sbg in a fantasy setting would go hard. now you could really throw in any ships, but personally, I built this idea around Tyden and Taylyn

so consider this:

(fair warning, this got a lot longer than I thought it would, I kinda ran with it)

Tyler and Taylor are the prince and princess of the kingdom, but they've essentially been running the country since they became teenagers what with their father having passed away and their mother being unfit to rule due to her mental state after her husband's passing. After their father died, Tyler still takes on the role of caretaker of sorts. Sometimes he even has a habit of burning himself out, Taylor and Ashlyn have to remind him often that it's okay to take a break. Ashlyn actually pulled him to the side one night and practically forced him to let Taylor start taking on more responsibilities, just so that he wouldn't fall under the weight of the kingdom.

On the subject of Ashlyn, her parents served in the king and queen's royal guard, and she even followed in her parent's footsteps. Considering both her lineage and the fact that she basically grew up with Tyler and Taylor, she winds up becoming the personal guard of the prince and princess(the twins) and the acting captain of the royal guard once she's deemed ready (which considering it's Ashlyn, is relatively quick). When it comes to her hearing, she'd definitely have some sort of wool or something put in her helmet to help muffle any loud noises. But her hearing also makes her a perfect guard, even allowing her to keep surveillance a fair distance away.

Eventually, it comes a time when the advisers decide that Tyler is of an age that he needs to find a suitor. The twins manage to fight it for as long as they can but when they turn 19, there's no getting around it. This would be around the time that Aiden and Ben show up, though for an unrelated reason.

See, Aiden is a prince himself, and Ben is a nobleman(title unknown) with close blood relation to the throne as well. Aiden isn't exactly all that into being a prince though, he'd rather go out, have fun, and be an adventurer (which is exactly what he's doing in the twin's kingdom) Ben is there to make sure Aiden doesn't get himself killed or cause any trouble with any foreign powers (friendly or otherwise).

As for Logan, well, his knack for astrology isn't going to waste, that's for sure. See, he's the apprentice of the kingdom's Royal Astronomer. And he absolutely loves it. Not only does he get to study the stars and be able to help support his grandparents, who would still run a flower shop in the capital's town square

Now of course rumors floating around the castle staff that Taylor has a secret love. Granted they can never catch a glimpse of the mystery suitor, (thanks to Ashlyn's super hearing) but the kitchen staff has it on good authority that it's someone from the royal guard. (Ashlyn and Taylor likely would have kept their relationship on the down-low for a bit in the beginning, but would eventually take it public, I mean, who's gonna stop them? the twins run the country, and of course, their mom just wants them to be happy and maybe give her a grandkid or two if either of them wants to have any)

That being said, the idea of little secret late-night rendevous where they wander the castle grounds talking and maybe wind up stargazing in the gardens is too good to pass up (They may not know as much about astronomy as say Logan, but they would definitely make up their own constellations and stories to go with them)

As for our other pair: Naturally, Tyler has a very strong opinion of Aiden. He's not exactly princely, and he does NOT like the fact his attitude when it comes to the politics of being in a royal family. But at the same time, this not-so-princely prince isn't like any other noble or royal he's ever met. He's intrigued. Deep down, there's a part of Tyler that wants to know more about Aiden and the world that he's gotten to explore and adventure through.

In the end, Aiden may or may not be the one who manages to get Tyler to enjoy his youth while he can, convincing him that the weight of the world doesn't have to fall on his shoulders alone. And Tyler may or may not have found himself a suitor in the process.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

#72 #5

Minho or Hyunjin? Eheh 🤭

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompt: "Are those...bite marks?"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Princess!Femreader x Royal Guard!Lee Minho

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut

"Fuck." Hyunjin grunts as the heavy hilt of your sword buries itself in his stomach.

He goes to his knees, dropping his own sword with a clatter, trying to catch his breath, and you circle him slowly, like a big cat waiting for the right moment to take down its fallen prey

You regard him with narrowed eyes and an air of annoyance.

"You're going easy on me. Stop it."

Hyunjin glances up at you, tracking you with his eyes, a few loose, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling over his brow, and he lets out a little humorless laugh at your words, throwing his hands out in an exasperated gesture.

"I swear to god, princess, if I went any harder on you, I'd collapse."

You stop, staring at him, trying to gauge the truthfulness in his statement.

He bows his head slightly to you, but not before you catch the hint of an amused grin on his full lips.

"I hate to admit it, but you've simply become better than me, princess." He glances off to your left, the grin growing slightly more cheeky now. "Isn't that right, Minho?"

You glance over your shoulder at your personal guard, leaning against the nearby wall, his usual, blank expression on his features, as unreadable and silent as ever.

He arches a brow at Hyunjin as the former scoops up his sword and bounds to his feet once more, headed for the weapons rack and the pail of water waiting beside it.

"I'm in no position to proclaim anything."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes good naturedly, sheathing his sword as he throws you a smirk over his shoulder, swiping hair back from the glistening skin of forehead.

"God, he's absolutely no fun, is he?"

"No." You shake your head, biting back your own grin now as you toss him your sword, which he catches easily, stowing it beside his own.

"I don't get paid to be fun." Minho deadpans, his eyes astutely scanning across the training courtyard in search of god knows what, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his sheathed sword at his waist. "I get paid to protect the princess, and that's what I'm doing."

"All right, Sir Serious." Hyunjin taunts, rolling his eyes once more, just for good measure. "Whatever you say."

Minho pushes off the wall and strides toward you, light armor clanking, before he narrows his eyes and looks up to judge the position of the sun in the sky.

"We should be getting back, your highness."

You glance once more at Hyunjin, who grins at you, before turning away and starting to organize the racks of weapons.

You sigh and drop the light weight helmet you had been wearing during your spars to the ground at your feet, motioning with your head to the waiting guard and the palace seen in the distance.

"Fine. Lead the way."

As you trek silently after Minho-back through the royal gardens, down the path through the vineyard, into the main fountain courtyard-you can't help but think that your mother is going to be furious with you.

Minho tries to keep you on time to things, but you're head strong and stubborn, and chafe under the rules of being the crown princess, and judging by the dipping of the setting sun, you're late for dinner.

Not to mention, you'd snuck some old clothes from the stable boys to practice in-skirts and silks only serving to get in your way-and your mother was sure to have a conniption fit if she saw you dressed in the raggedy pants and overly large tunic you'd secured.

Minho had caught one sight of the outfit and you had seen the disapproval on his face.

"Your mother is going to be angry, you know." He remarks, not looking back at you, as if thinking about his obvious annoyance with your recreational activities has summoned it to the surface once more.

"What's new?" You huff back, stepping past him as he holds aside a low hanging shrub for you to pass, stomping your feet in their old boots just a little bit harder than necessary as you do. "She's always angry it seems."

Minho remains quiet, following you up to the servants' entrance of the ostentatious castle that leads to the kitchens, and ultimately, the back staircase that allows you to sneak in and out without catching your mother's-or the royal advisor's-watchful eyes.

Yanking open the heavy wooden door, you stomp up the staircase without so much as a backward glance in your personal guard's direction.

Let him be angry with you. Let them all be angry with you.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered, and it would never matter, not when you were doomed to be held in a gilded cage for the rest of your life.

********************************************************************************

You keep your head down at dinner-only speaking when you're spoken to, though it chafes against every nature you have-and you mostly avoid your mother's ire by doing so.

Acting the dutiful princess has always put her off the war trail.

After dessert, you sneak out of the dining room as your mother takes her wealthy guests to the parlor for some after dinner brandy and betting games, probably a little political talk if you had to guess.

None of it matters to you. It doesn't have to, because eventually your mother will find you some boring old duke of a husband, and he'll rule the castle, because god forbid a woman do it on her own, and you'll be just as trapped as before.

Dashing up the stairs, skirts in your hands, gleeful and heady from getting out of entertaining without being caught, you stop on the landing and glance down into the foyer, just as Minho steps from the shadows.

You can tell he's irritated, even from here, and something about it makes you even more triumphant than before.

"You don't have to follow me." You call down to him, taking the second flight of stairs two at a time, even as he sighs and begins to descend the first.

"I do though."

"You really don't." You reply back, reaching the second landing, catching your breath.

Damn these heavy skirts and petticoats and this tightly drawn corset in which you can hardly breathe. You much prefer the tunics and trousers men are allowed to wear.

Minho reaches you as you're finding the last of your breath, and the look on his face is smooth once more, unreadable.

It's something you've never understood about him. How he manages to keep such a blank mask all the time. Doesn't he feel stifled? Doesn't he want more?

"It's my job, princess." He affirms in a serious, no argument tone, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Fine."

He follows you silently down the long corridor, but when you reach the large oaken doors of your room, you pause with a hand on the knob, glancing at him with a sort of smirk over your shoulder.

"You have to wait out here though. I'm going to change."

If Minho's caught off guard, he doesn't show it. He leans against the wall and his hand goes to the sword at his hip.

"I'm not allowed in your chambers regardless, your highness. Now is no different."

"God, you really are no fun." You complain, just to annoy him, and you push through the doors, shutting them in his face before he can say anything in response.

Deciding against calling for the help of one of your ladies maids, and risking a lecture, you slip out of the dozens of layers of gowns and petticoats yourself, but the corset cinched tightly around your waist proves a little more difficult.

No matter how much you twist and turn, you can't get ahold of the carefully placed laces to tug them loose.

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sweating slightly, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you ponder your options.

Finally, you come to the conclusion that there's no other way. It has to be done.

Waltzing to the door, you tug it open and peek your head out to see Minho right where you left him.

He slides his gaze to you with a questioning sort of look, and you clear your throat.

"I-need a little help."

He stares at you, and then his lips form a firm line. "Call for Celia."

"I can't." You explain with a huff, as if he thinks you're stupid and you feel the need to explain yourself. "She'll rat me out to mother and I'll get the lecture of a lifetime."

Minho just continues to stare, unyielding.

"Minho." You whine, stamping your foot, and he arches a brow. "You know I'm on thin fucking ice with her already."

"And you'd be on even thinner ice if she heard you using coarse language like that."

You don't give in. "Please?"

Minho sighs. "Fine."

You squeal and duck back into the room, and it's only when he steps through the door to join you, that you suddenly realize with certain clarity what you're asking of him.

You're standing in nothing but your shift and corset, and there's a man in your room, one you're not married to, and oh god-

Minho seems to realize all of this at the same time you do, and he freezes mid step as if he's been doused in cold water, and you shriek without thinking, darting behind the bed to hide behind the blanket.

"Close your eyes!" You hiss out, as you scrabble to cover yourself.

He does so, but a wash of frustration moves across his face as he snaps back, "How the hell am I supposed to unlace you if I can't see?"

"I don't know!" You blurt out, heart hammering against your chest with panic.

Minho takes a blind step in the direction of the door. "If you would just call your maid-"

"No!" You exclaim, a bit louder than intended, and Minho cracks open an eye as you slap your hand over your mouth.

"No." You repeat, quieter this time, and you straighten, steeling your nerve, glancing toward the closed door nervously. "Let's just do it quickly. I'll stay behind the blanket, and you have to promise your gaze will remain appropriate at all times-"

Minho snorts a humorless sounding chuckle, and you glare at him.

"Promise me, Minho!"

He sighs and stares upward at the ceiling for a moment, as if looking for something to give him strength.

"I promise."

"Okay, good." You say nervously, tucking the blanket more securely around you, until you're sure just the laces on the back of your corset are showing.

You waddle in Minho's direction, and if you didn't know him better, you'd think that was a flash of amusement in his eyes.

You turn toward him, baring your back and your shoulders, and hold your breath, staring straight ahead.

He doesn't touch you and you grow antsy in the silence.

"Minho!" You hiss, not daring to glance back at him. "Hurry!"

You hear him take a step forward, and then feel a brush of a finger along the bare skin of your shoulder as he reaches for the top laces.

You jolt, cheeks instantly aflame, and try to hold still as you feel him hesitantly pull the top lace through the eyelet.

You try to focus on anything but the feel of Minho's warm hands brushing your back through your thin shift as he works, quickly and quietly, and as the corset loosens and you can breathe again, your lungs tighten up for a whole different reason.

Minho is touching you.

And you don't hate it.

Minho pulls the last lace through and clears his throat, reaching around you to drop the discarded laces into your hands.

"There. All done."

He pulls his hand back, and as he does so, it brushes the bare skin of your shoulder.

You shiver, and it's not because you're cold.

Instantly, you whirl, tugging the blanket up and around you so you're completely covered now, and when you meet Minho's gaze, his mask is firmly in place, expression unreadable.

"Thank you." You manage to say, as Minho nods and backs toward the doors.

"I'll be waiting outside, your highness."

He disappears, and the doors click quietly shut behind him.

You stare down at the silk laces he had laid in your palm, and will your heart to stop thundering out of your chest.

********************************************************************************

"Do you think Lee Minho is actually cold, or do you think that's just what he wants people to see?" You ask one day, sitting in a field of wild flowers, watching the horses graze contentedly a few feet away.

Felix looks over at you in surprise, then glances in the direction of Minho, off a few hundred feet away making sure his mare drinks from a stream.

"Why are you asking?" He replies curiously, instead of giving you an answer, and you sigh, leaning back on your hands and hiking up your skirts to give your legs a little glimpse of the warm afternoon sun.

"I don't know." You shrug, considering, and lean over to pick an especially yellow daisy, twirling it between your fingers as you think. "I just think there's a side to him I don't really know."

Felix lounges back beside you, a blade of grass stuck between his lips, and stares up at the blue sky for several moments.

"I think there's a side to everyone that we don't really know."

You nod thoughtfully, and unwittingly, your gaze drifts to Minho, stroking the broad neck of his horse gently, whispering something to it in low tones that you can't catch.

"Yeah, I guess." You admit vaguely, staring off into the distance.

"Besides-" Felix leans over to nudge your side, giving you a bright grin that dimples his cheeks and scrunches his freckles. "-I wouldn't worry about him too much. I'm sure your mother has loads of eligible suitors lined up and waiting. You'll have no time to think of the mystery that is Lee Minho soon enough."

That sounds absolutely awful, but you don't say that out loud.

You simply give him a smile that you don't feel in return, playfully shove him, and stand up to ready for the ride back home.

********************************************************************************

"Minho." You call out, standing in the middle of the sparring ring, chest heaving, having bested Hyunjin once again.

Your guard glances up from his usual position on the wall.

"Spar with me." You command, motioning to the ring with the tip of your sword.

Minho stares.

"Minho." You repeat again, tone firmer and harder this time, because you know he's going to try to refuse, but you need this. Just to see. "That's an order from your princess."

You see his chest rise and fall beneath his armor with a breath, and then he pushes off the wall, accepting the training sword Hyunjin hands him wordlessly as he walks toward you.

He steps a boot over the red line of the training circle, and eyes you warily.

"Princess, I don't think-"

"Don't think." You snap back, readying your stance, adjusting your hold on the hilt, glaring at him. "And don't go easy on me."

Minho watches you, something flashing across his eyes that you can't quite read, and then he sighs and sinks down into a ready stance of his own.

Hyunjin steps up, glancing between the two of you carefully, before he drops his hands in between you to signal the start of the match.

You move without thinking, whirling around and using the heavy weight of your sword to propel you toward Minho, under his left arm and right toward his flank.

He leaps out of the way easily, and comes around your back, and you follow his every movement with narrowed eyes, trying to preemptively think of what he's going to do next.

He lunges for you suddenly, the tip of his sword headed for the juncture of your shoulder, and you drop and roll out of the way to the other side of the ring, avoiding him.

"Why are you holding back?" You ask furiously, swinging at him again, as he ducks and maneuvers out of your way.

"I'm not." He snaps right back, and with a cry, you leap at him again, aiming for his legs, hoping to take him down to the ground.

There is tension, as the two of you circle the training ring and each other like jungle cats, stalking each other's every moves, watching footwork and body language and any minute movements.

"You are." You insist, slightly out of breath, as you dodge another one of Minho's well timed attacks, barely missing nicking your arm on the edge of his training blade.

"I'm not going to hurt you, princess." Minho retorts, fire flaring in his eyes, as he scrapes past a swing of your own.

With a growl of frustration, you head for him again, and this time, he meets your blade head on, the swords creating sparks as they make contact, the two of you battling for dominance.

You're so close now that you can see the flecks of gold in Minho's dark brown eyes, the sweat shining on his upper lip, the slight wave of his hair now that it's damp.

"Fucking hurt me." You hiss back, holding against his insistent pressure, your arms beginning to ache with the strain. "It's the only thing I get to feel in this prison."

Minho's eyes flash dangerously, and he gains an inch over you, the blades sliding against one another as he pushes you a step back.

"You wanna know something, Minho?" You bite out, your muscles beginning to shake with exhaustion, your whole body tense. "Every day, I watch you. I watch you put on a mask, and go to work, and follow orders, and do it all again the next day-like some sort of cold, unfeeling, unyielding machine. Aren't you tired? Don't you get tired of just not feeling anything?"

Minho growls in his throat, and suddenly, he's heaving forward, sending your sword flying from your hands as you tumble to the ground, the wind knocked out of you as you land hard on the packed earth, flat on your back.

Before you can react, Minho is on you, sword at your throat, pinning your body down beneath his, chest heaving.

You stare up at him, shocked, and suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

He leans over you, face impossibly close to your own, and you catch a hint of his musk-something cedar and pine-before he grits out beneath his breath, "There. Happy now?"

You open your mouth, but no words come out, and he stares at you, hard, his breaths harsh, and you see something flicker across his gaze as he murmurs, "I feel things. But they're forbidden. And that's the way it has to be, princess."

He pulls the sword back from your throat and stands.

You lay there in the dirt, Hyunjin rushing to your side, as Minho tosses aside his sword and leaves without another backward glance.

********************************************************************************

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sitting on the edge of your ridiculously large bed, trying, and failing once more, to wrap your hand in the strips of linen you had stolen from the kitchen.

Glancing down at the small wound on the palm of your hand, you let yourself fall back heavily on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.

"Fuck this." You announce, if only to yourself, and you stand determinedly, marching to the door of your room and yanking it open.

Minho glances at you from his usual post on the wall.

"I need your help." You say, with no preamble, and Minho arches a brow.

"Your highness, please say it has nothing to do with corset laces."

You pause, because that's probably the first time you've ever heard Minho make anything close to a joke, and then shake your head with a slightly rueful smile.

"It does not."

Minho inclines his head to your open door after looking down the hall to make sure you're alone. "Lead the way then."

You shut the door behind him, and return to the bed, sitting down on the edge as Minho stands like a statue in the doorway.

You heave a sigh and motion him forward with your hand. "Come over here. You can't help me from there."

He does so, albeit reluctantly, hand on the hilt of his sword, like always, and comes to stand awkwardly beside you.

You open your palm and he glances down, his expression going dark as he takes in the small, red wounds marring the flesh.

"Are those....bite marks?"

You shrug one shoulder and try not to let his sudden anger make your heart do weird things in your chest.

"Yes. I tried to befriend a stray in the village this afternoon." You remark, reaching for the discarded roll of linen. "Bastard apparently didn't like cook's egg tarts."

You hold out the linen to Minho with an expectant look, and he sighs heavily, before taking it from your outstretched hand and kneeling at your feet.

"Fine. Let me see."

You extend your hand another inch or so, suddenly unsure of what to do, and Minho glances up at you, amusement in the twitch of his lips, before he grasps your hand with his own and pulls it into his lap.

You bite back the gasp that threatens at the feel of his fingers on your won.

"Did you clean this?" Minho asks, studying the wound clinically, turning your palm all which ways to see it in the light.

"Yes." You nod, annoyance seeping into your tone. "I'm not daft."

"I didn't say you were." Minho remarks offhandedly, as, seemingly satisfied, he unrolls the linen and begins to carefully wind it around your palm.

You hiss a little as the coarse fabric scrapes the raw skin, but manage to hold still as Minho finishes the job and ties it off securely with a satisfied little nod and a hum in the back of his throat.

"There." He announces, glancing up at you, and you freeze, because, fuck, Minho is pretty, and how have you never noticed?

You stare openly, your eyes dragging down the sharp, well arched lines of his face, the slope of his nose, the full bow of his upper lip.

And with a start, you realize he's still holding your injured hand in his own.

Tugging out of his grasp, you stand, brushing off your skirts as if they're dirty, if only to direct attention away from your suddenly flaming cheeks.

You clear your throat. "Thank you. I-"

Minho stands now as well, echoing your throat clear. "Yes. If that'll be all-"

Something sinks heavy into the pit of your stomach at his obvious dismissal.

"Minho-" You start to say without really thinking where you're going, and he glances to you, expression shuttered. "I never got to apologize. For the other day."

He regards you with a cautious look, a muscle in his jaw feathering slightly.

"You don't need to apologize for anything, your highness."

"No, I mean-" You take a step forward, holding his gaze, and you feel the danger in this, the danger in him being here, in being alone, in your room. "-I didn't mean it. What I said about you being cold."

Minho studies you, his eyes dark in the flicker of the sconces. "But I am."

You stare at him, dumbfounded.

Minho sighs, reaching up to rake a hand through his thick hair, and you think it's the first human gesture you've ever seen out of him since you've known him.

"It's who I am. I have to be. It's part of my job, princess."

"Why?" You ask without thinking, and Minho's gaze grows pained, just for an instant, and then it's gone.

He shakes his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Please." You beg, taking another step toward him, and surprise even yourself when you clutch your hand in his.

Minho instantly freezes.

"Please. I want to understand. If you could just try to help me-"

"I-" Minho starts to say, eyes flicking down to yours.

"We're the same, Minho." You whisper desperately, squeezing his cold fingers. "Trapped, locked away. Maybe if I understood, we could help each other-"

Minho stiffens, and he tugs his hand from your own, and when you look at him again, he's closed off, face unreadable once more.

He backs toward the door, a flash of anger in his eyes before it's gone.

"We are not the same, princess. We will never be the same."

He turns on his heel and exits your room without another word.

********************************************************************************

You don't know if it's the way you left things with Minho the night before, or if it's the fact that your mother is waiting in the parlor with some suitable prince suitor, but you find yourself fleeing the castle on horseback at the first possible moment.

"Princess, wait-" Felix calls out, but you pay him no heed as you pull yourself up on your mare and kick her flanks, urging her into a fast gallop, leaving the stable and the palace and your mother and Minho all behind.

You ride and ride, not caring where you're headed, and it's only when the first rain drop hits your forehead, that you pull the horse to a slower canter, weaving her in and out of the forest trees, the sound of your own heartbeat and the hoofbeats on the ground the only thing filling your head.

The rain quickly becomes a downpour, and you tug the hood of your riding cape up around your head, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to leave without checking the weather first.

It mists your face in a chilled spray, and soon, your dress is drenched, heavy and wet, the horse's mane sticking to her soaked skin beneath your clenched fingers that hold the reigns.

You reach a stream, made into something closer to a roaring river by the storm, and the mare beneath you balks when you urge her to the edge, stomping her feet and shaking her head, snorting nervously.

"C'mon-" You urge, your teeth starting to chatter, and kick her flank once more, just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky and a boom of thunder sounds over head.

The horse rears, and with a startled shriek, you're thrown violently to the muddy forest ground.

Your mare thunders off wildly, and you're left alone, crumpled on the forest floor, your body aching and your heart pounding.

You push yourself up to a sitting position, slipping slightly in the mud, and wince, hissing through your teeth as you jostle your bruised ribs and very clearly sprained ankle.

Mud covers your palms as you take stock of yourself and any injuries sustained, and when you pull your fingers away from your forehead, they're red and sticky with blood.

Glancing around, you realize with a sharp pang of fear, that you have no idea where you are.

And no one knows how to find you.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to get to your feet, the roar of the river loud in your ears, but only succeeded in rising to your knees before you slide in the mud, your skirts-heavy with water-tangle around your legs, and your weakened body collapses back down.

You glance around for a stick, or a branch, or a tree to heave yourself up with, but you're dead weight, and there's nothing in sight.

Tears gather, hot and frustrated, and you scream into the clouds overhead, raging at the storm, at your stupidity, at this asinine life and role you've been thrust into.

You duck your head against the wind and rain, and stare at your muddied, bloodied hands and skirts, the tears starting to drip from your eyes without your permission.

It makes you even angrier.

"Fuck." You growl out, swiping at your cheeks, smearing the mud around along with the tears. You let your head fall back and scream louder once more, "Fuck!"

You don't know how long you sit there, defeated, in the mud beside the river, before you hear a faint sound in the distance that makes your ears perk.

It's the sound of hooves.

Without thinking, you cup your hands around your mouth and start to cry out, hoping it's a hunter or servant stumbling upon you in their trip through the woods, "Help! Someone please help!"

No one comes, and your pleas die in your throat, along with your hope.

Foolish. Stupid. It was probably just your abandoned mare passing by in her frenzy whipped up by the storm.

And then, a large dark horse-much too large to be your own-appears at the edge of the clearing, cantering toward you, and everything inside of you instantly grows warm with relief at the sight of the rider upon its back.

Minho leaps off the horse before it comes to a full stop, his boots sinking into the mud as he slides to a stop beside you, instantly dropping to his knees next to you, ignorant to the thick mud staining his breeches.

"Minho." His name comes out on a strained whisper, and you're crying again.

You expect to see anger on his face when he looks at you, the emotion he sports the most around you-irritation maybe, at your stupidity, at not telling him where you were going, at blowing off your mother-but instead, you're caught off guard by the sheer panic in his dark eyes, the relieved, almost scared, pull of his lips.

"Are you hurt?" He asks you instantly, voice hoarse and frantic, his eyes roving down the length of your body, as if to check your condition, and his hands clutch your upper arms, holding you in place, the strength of his fingers making you wince.

"Not vitally." You reply, and Minho's eyes flick back up to your face at that, and you remember the blood probably coating your skin.

"Your head-" He starts to say, reaching up to swipe a careful thumb across the gash that must be there, and you resist the urge to close your eyes, lean into the warm comfort of his touch.

"It barely hurts." You whisper back, and it's the truth. Your ribs and ankle are warring to take the place of highest ache currently. "My ankle though-"

Minho's gaze goes down to your ankle, buried in the deep mud, as if he can see what's ailing you through the layers of skirts tangled around your legs.

He seems to consider for a moment, and then he stands, and before you can protest, he pulls you up easily so you're cradled in his arms.

"Minho-" You gasp out fearfully, your arms going around his neck tightly in impulse.

"I won't drop you." He assures you, face serious, eyes dark. His gaze roves slowly across your face, as if searching for something. "Do you trust me?"

Without a second thought, you nod.

He almost smiles, but it's strained, and fraught with concern. "Good. There's a small, stocked hunting cabin nearby that the estate's game warden uses during the summer. We'll head there until we can wait out the storm."

He glances up at the tumultuous sky with narrowed eyes, the rain pelting his face, dripping off the heavy dark waves of his hair, and another round of lightning flashes overhead.

You bury into the safety of his chest without thinking, and Minho's arms tighten slightly around you.

You think he presses a barely noticeable kiss against your wet dirty hair, but it's probably just your imagination.

"Let's go." He murmurs, and heads off into the shelter of the quickly darkening trees, you still held carefully in his arms.

********************************************************************************

It doesn't take Minho long to get a small fire going in the hearth of the tiny cabin, and then he turns to you, face half in light, half in shadow, and motions to your drenched petticoats.

"You need to take those off. You'll get sick."

"I'm fine." You start to protest, but a violent shudder goes through you before you can finish, proving his point, and he stares at you pointedly.

Still, you return the look stubbornly, and finally, Minho lets out a long sigh, standing up from the fire and heading to a dresser in the corner.

He tosses a pair of breeches and a tunic into your lap without really looking, and says firmly, "I'll wait outside," before turning and leaving without another word.

You stare down at the dry clothes in your hands, debating on resisting, just to piss Minho off, but another shiver wracks through your body, and you decide in the moment, it's better off to be warm than stubborn.

Slipping out of your heavy, wet clothing, you slide the dry clothing on quickly, warm now from the fire, and immediately feel ten times better.

Minho was right, but you'll never admit it.

"I'm finished." You call out into the silence, and you don't know if he's heard you, but a minute later, he reappears through the front door, letting a burst of wind in with him, dripping rain onto the floor.

He crouches down beside the fire, warming his hands, and gives you a once over before glancing to your pile of wet clothing on the floor, already puddling.

Seeming satisfied, he turns back to the glowing fire.

"You didn't have to go outside." You mutter sullenly beneath your breath, curling your knees to your chest and scooting as close to the fire as you can allow. "Shutting your eyes would've sufficed. I know you don't think of me like that anyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho tenses, but it's gone so quickly that you think you've imagined it.

"Think of you like what?" He questions emotionlessly, eyes never leaving the flames.

You shrug. "A woman. An interest. Someone other than your job."

"Mm." Minho muses, oddly blank for the moment at hand, not even deigning to look at you. "And who told you that? Your mother perhaps? Or maybe one of your maids?"

You feel anger curl, hot and tight, in the pit of your stomach at his indifference.

"No one had to tell me. It's always on your face." You spit back, fire lacing your tone. "You've never treated me with anything other than irritation, or boredom, or apathy in all the time we've known each other, all the time you've been saddled with me."

Minho tongues his cheek, and his fists clench in his lap, and then he turns, staring at you hard, fire reflected in his own dark gaze now.

You note with a start that he's not wearing his usual armor. You don't think you've ever just seen him in a tunic and breeches in all the time you've known him. Your mother must have thrown an absolute fit about your disappearance to have him leaving the castle without so much as a chest plate.

"It's a mask." He remarks coldly, his words tight and low. "A necessary evil of the job, but a mask nonetheless."

You hold him, stare for stare, and refuse to back down, your own anger growing hotter and brighter by the second.

"I don't see why it's necessary to treat me with such disdain-" You start to retort back, but Minho cuts you off with a harsh wave of his hand and a flash of his eyes.

"Do not speak of things you know nothing about, princess." His voice trembles with fury, and he forces a harsh breath out through his nose, as if he's willing himself to remain still and not wrap his hands around your throat. "That mask that I've worked so hard to curate? That you seem to harbor such hatred for? That mask protects us both."

He takes in another long breath, and unclenches his hands in his lap, but his gaze never leaves your face, and his expression is darkened in shadow as the flames flicker across his features.

When he speaks again, his voice is resigned, low, barely a frustrated murmur.

"If I were to allow myself to ever, ever explore the depths of my feelings for you, not only would I lose my job and most likely my head, but I would ruin you."

You stare at him, anger slowly fading, as you try to comprehend what he's telling you.

Outside, the wind rails against the small cabin and the rain thunders on the roof.

Minho sighs and glances away from you now, something sad flickering briefly across his dark eyes, no longer filled with fire.

"I will not do that to you. I would never risk it." A muscle ticks in his jaw. "But I also feel I owe it to you to be honest, and as much as I'd like to stay safely behind the mask, it's also not very conducive to vulnerability."

The fire crackles in the tense silence between the two of you, and you finally let out the breath you've been holding, confusion and exhaustion quickly replacing the anger, dampening and heavying your bones.

"I don't understand." You whisper out, because your heart is going a million miles a minute, and you're trying very hard not to focus on the soft curl of Minho's hair now that he's growing dry beside the fire.

Minho shifts slightly, and suddenly, his thigh is brushing against yours, warm and solid through the thin cotton of the pants you wear.

Everything inside of your body tightens.

"(Y/N)-" Minho says softly, gently, reaching out to take your chin in his fingers, and you resist the urge to pull away, avoiding his gaze instead.

You don't think you've ever heard him call you by your given name. Or speak so gently before.

"Don't say my name like that." You whisper out, voice hoarse, and try to ignore the way Minho's skin feels against your own, giving you butterflies.

He regards you seriously, tilting his head slightly to pin you beneath his intent gaze.

"Like what?" He questions back, just as soft, and his fingers curl against your skin, tugging your chin up to finally make you look him in the eye.

"Like you'd willingly cross oceans and tear nations apart just to keep me safe." You whisper in response, voice growing hoarse and dry in your throat, your stomach fluttering pleasantly now that is gaze is directly on you, roving your face.

He lets his hand drop slowly from your face, but his eyes never leave your own.

His mouth softens, and something goes weirdly warm in the depths of his dark eyes as he continues to stare at you.

"Don't look at me like that." You demand quietly, voice growing in confidence, as you stare him back down, your chin trembling a bit and the fight not to drop your eyes to the full curve of his lips growing harder by the second.

"Like what?" He questions again, voice rough and soft, caressing your skin as if he had reached out and touched you.

You take in a shuddering breath, and press a hand to your wildly pounding heart just beneath your sternum, as if you can will it to quiet just by your touch.

"Like you lov-" You start to say, but Minho cuts you off as his mouth covers your own.

You gasp, but it's lost in the kiss, and you're so caught off guard, your mind goes blank for a moment, but Minho is patient and cautious, and soon, you respond to him in kind, growing used to the feel of his impossibly soft mouth moving in time with your own.

You've never kissed anyone-not like this.

You weren't allowed to even be alone with a man, let alone experience anything that Minho's offering you now.

But suddenly, you find that you're starving for more.

You part your lips experimentally beneath his, and Minho responds with a low hum in his throat, his fingers tangling into your damp hair, his tongue slipping in to the gap you've created, prodding, exploring, but never pushing.

Gods, you feel like you're on fire. Is it possible to catch fire just from someone's touch?

You don't know, but you hope it never stops.

Minho pulls back from you, his lips red and slick, his eyes dark and blown, and he stares at you for a moment, as if you're the most precious, pretty thing he's ever seen, even though you're sure you look a mess.

Your hair is nothing more than a rat's nest from the rain, and you're wearing the games keeper's old clothes, skin still covered in mud from your fall earlier, but Minho regards you in this moment like you're the moon goddess hanging the stars in the sky.

Minho heaves in a laborious breath, and then another.

"Tell me to stop."

You stare back at him, studying the sharp lines of his face, the way his lips are pinker than before, flushed and rosy, the tanned, sharp lines of his collar bone and upper chest where it dips into the deep v of his shirt.

Do you want him to stop? You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"Tell me to stop." Minho repeats, slower this time, his hands finding yours where they rest in your lap. He leans down to meet your gaze. "And I will. We'll never speak of this again."

Do you want that? Do you want to go back to cold looks and apathetic glances and masks? Or do you want this? Do you want warm fires and hands on your skin and Minho?

In a bold move that surprises even yourself, you lean forward and press your lips to his.

He palms the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, almost in his lap, and your whole body tingles at the feeling.

You part just enough to catch your breath and get your words out.

"Don't stop."

Minho's eyes flash and then he's smashing his lips against yours once more, devouring you fully, and you can't help the slight mewl that escapes into his open mouth as his tongue dances with your own.

He tugs you down beside him onto the rug that lies in front of the fire, and doesn't stop kissing you.

You feel his hand slip beneath the loose material of the large tunic you wear, and you whimper as his fingers stroke your skin, along the curve of your hip, across your ribs, until he can palm your breast.

"Fuck." Minho swears as you gasp and arch up into him at the foreign contact, and you're not really sure what you're doing, but it feels right.

He puts his free hand beside your head, propping himself above you, and his gaze roams hungrily down the lines of your body, before he seems to shake himself and drag his eyes back up to your own.

"Are you sure?" He questions softly, and his hand stops its exploratory motions, and you have to bite your tongue so you don't beg him to continue.

"Yes." You nod, ignoring the breathless catch to your voice, and reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

It's so soft. You've always wondered what it felt like

"I'm sure."

Something resolute flashes across his gaze, and he leans back over to kiss you, but it's short and sweet and gentle this time, before he pulls back and moves to the pants currently bunched around your waist, his fingers settling there as he once again gives you another questioning look.

You bite your lip and nod, and he tugs the thin material down your body and tosses it aside.

You're wearing nothing now but the large tunic, and you fight the urge to squirm or try to cover up as Minho returns, staring down at you, his eyes roving your newly bared skin as if he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

"Fuck-" He repeats again, leaning over to press kisses to the now bare curvature of your hip, down across your lower belly, dangerously close to where you suddenly feel very hot in a strange, but altogether pleasant way. "-you're so beautiful."

"Minho." You whimper out, as his slides a large, warm palm up your bare thigh, and his fingers tease where his mouth just was only seconds before.

Is it supposed to feel like this? Is this why they'd been keeping it from you? Because it's so damn good?

"Easy, love." Minho murmurs against your stomach, as he inches his fingers lower and lower, until they touch the strange warmth, sending an electric jolt through your body that has you shuddering and crying out.

He flicks his gaze to yours, and something serious resides there.

"It might hurt the first time." He cautions gently, and you nod dazedly, because you don't really know, but you'd heard whisperings from the castle staff, the maids, that told as much. "I'm going to prep you, okay? But tell me if you want me to stop and I will."

You take in a deep steadying breath, and your hands clench into the fabric of the rug on either side of you. "Okay."

Minho presses another kiss to your lower stomach, and carefully slides a finger in.

You gasp, because it feels like an intrusion, and it stings, just a bit, your body tensing, muscles fighting, but Minho is there, leaning up to press tender kisses to your lips, along with low, flowing praises in your ear.

"Try to relax." He murmurs, and you force yourself to listen to him, slowly loosening every muscle in your body one by one.

Minho's dark eyes flicker with something akin to warm pride at your obedience. "Good girl, love." He eases another finger into you, and you fight the urge to tense up again. "That's it."

It's oddly intimate, Minho talking you through it, and when you finally feel like you've reached a space of comfort, and maybe even pleasure, writhing beneath him with each exploratory, careful probe of his fingers, you find yourself begging for more.

"Please, Minho-" You whine out, and it feels sinful to experience this much pleasure just at the hands of another.

And then, he disrobes, between your legs, and you feel everything inside of you tense up again at the sight of him.

You've never been with a man. Are they always that large? And hard? And intimidating?

Fear crawls up your throat, alongside a small flare of curiosity, and you find yourself reminding yourself to breathe.

Minho must sense your sudden panic, because he leans over you once more, and you try to force yourself to focus on the lines of his chest, the scars that mark the tan skin there.

"Do you trust me?" He asks suddenly, and you snap your gaze back up to his, the fear melting away at the reassuring look in his eyes, the soft lines around his mouth.

"Yes." You whisper back, nodding without even having to think, and Minho leans forward to press his lips to yours once more.

When he presses into you, you gasp, and your body goes tight once more at the bigger intrusion, and it's painful, sharp and foreign.

You start to feel the panic swell in your throat once more, gasping against Minho's lips, but then he's right there, murmuring comfort low in your ear, his hands stroking up your sides even as he pauses, just letting you be for a minute.

"You're doing so well, love." He breathes, and you force another muscle to relax, one by one, as he slips in a bit further. "So perfect for me."

You whimper as you feel him, all of him, but then most of the pain is gone, and suddenly, your entire body feels light and limp with pleasure.

"Minho-" You gasp out, body aligning with his, thoughts suddenly hazy and far away.

He grunts, low in the back of his throat, and the sound makes your legs feel like jelly. "Fucking perfect."

You shift slightly beneath him, and he groans in response, hands going down hard on either side of your head to support his weight, his muscles trembling.

"Fuck, don't-" He starts to say, his words bitten off by another low growl rumbling in his chest.

He glances up at you from beneath the dark wave of his hair, his chest heaving with breaths, lips parted.

"Don't move like that, love, unless you really want me to cross a line."

He rubs against you, and the friction has you mewling and arching up into the strong warmth of his body.

You grab his head and force his lips back down to yours.

"Cross all the lines, Minho."

********************************************************************************

You're lying beside the warmth of the fire, your head on Minho's chest, a fur throw thrown over both your naked bodies, the rain slowly dying to a light mist outside.

You don't know what time it is, you don't know if your mother has sent others out looking for the two of you, but with your hands idly combing across Minho's broad chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, your entire body achy and satiated, you find you don't really care.

"What's this one from?" You ask in a sleepy whisper, running your fingers along another of Minho's scars-this one a faded, shiny white line along the edge of his breastbone.

"You probably don't remember." He muses, as you cuddle closer to him, and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You were barely five or six at the time."

"Which would make you not much older." You quip back teasingly.

"Yeah, a few years. I was probably ten?" Minho remembers, staring up at the ceiling, as he cards his fingers through your hair distractedly, remembering. "You had wandered away from your governess in the gardens. She was absolutely frantic. I found you at the edge of the woods, playing in the mud beside a stream."

You smile at the thought, because that does sound like you.

Minho chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, and you turn your head to press a kiss to his bare pec as it flexes as he tightens his arms around you.

"You were buried in some pretty thick brambles, but you hadn't a care in the world. Completely oblivious to the angry, large thorns you had climbed through, surprisingly unscathed, to reach the mud patch. Offered me a mud pie, if I remember correctly."

You laugh and Minho shakes his head ruefully. "I climbed in and carried you out on my back. Sported a pretty nasty gash for a couple of days from one of the more vicious thorns."

He rubs absentmindedly at the small scar, and you cover his fingers with yours.

"Thank you." You murmur under the crackle of the fire, and Minho glances down at you.

"You don't have to thank me. It's always been my job to protect you."

You push yourself up on an elbow to stare down at him seriously. "I know. I'm not thanking you for that."

His brow arches in surprise. "Then what?"

You idly trail a finger down his cheekbone, studying the way the shifting firelight makes him look even more beautiful than before if that's possible.

"Thank you for keeping me safe. And for looking out for me. And showing me that there's more to life than just being stuck in a fancy cage."

Minho's eyes soften, and you lean over to kiss him sweetly.

He pulls you back down to his side, and you tuck yourself willingly against him, curling your body against his.

"Thank you, love, for never giving up on the person you knew I was behind the mask."

"You didn't make it easy." You tease sleepily, nuzzling against him.

Minho chuckles softly. "I know."

You close your eyes, the exhaustion making your body heavy, your mind blissfully quiet.

Tomorrow, you'll have to return and face your mother, and your gilded cage, and whatever else will be waiting for you back at the palace.

But tonight, you're content to enjoy all of this.

And tomorrow, no matter what, you'll face everything with Minho by your side.

[stardusthuntress]

True Partners - Ch. 1

Din Djarin x femaleMandalorian!reader 

Word Count: ~3.2k 

Summary: Din Djarin finds himself in a bit of a sticky spot and calls in an old friend for assistance… one he may or may not have a thing for… 

TW: this one is pretty mild, but it will get spicy later… very spicy… canon-typical violence (Mando is pursued by an opposing party, nothing new there); but it does get a bit suggestive at the end and the next part will be very NSFW, so I’m just gonna rate this whole thing NSFW; Din and partner chat about getting intimate and where their limits are, trying to give this a healthy relationship vibes, you guys will have to let me know if I missed anything that goes back on that in any way! FYI, Din is starting to question his strict rules about being Mandalorian, I tried not to make too many conjectures about it, but just bear that in mind if dissenting about his culture is something you aren’t comfortable with! 

A/N: please enjoy this fun little snaggle and the Top Gun movie reference I snuck in there! Also I know very little about the N1, so please excuse any mistakes I might have made or conjectures/assumptions I made, consider it creative license required something to keep the story moving! 

Mando’a: 

Buir = parent, in this case, father 

Keldable kiss = a Mandalorian habit of giving a kiss without removing the helmet, consists of the tapping of foreheads together, usually two beskar-clad foreheads, but it doesn’t have to be 

dividers by: @/djarrex

Blaster fire scattered through the rings of the planet, as the Mandalorian took down his quarry, one by one. He’d managed to reduce their numbers back to something he could handle more easily, but it hadn’t been easy. 

Not long after they cornered him, one of them had managed a direct hit to his fuel hatch, and his fuel levels were steadily dropping. It was a slow leak, but it was still a leak. There was no way he was getting out of this one alone. 

Somewhere between reducing his opponent's game pieces from 14 to 11, he managed to send a single ping to an old friend. One he’d teamed up with for a few years, long before Grogu came into his life. Rumor had it, she resided in this sector of the galaxy. He wondered if she’d still be up for teaming up with him again. They’d parted on good terms, but he still occasionally wished they had let their team-up become something more. No matter, right now he had a few too many starfighters working against him, and his little one in his lap. Not the time for distractions. 

Fortunately, this planet had a magnetic field that interacted with some of the rocks in its rings in strange ways. Ways he could use. 

He dodged, dove, and spiraled his way through and around a few that would scatter his signature and make him hard to track. Behind him, one of the starfighters attempted to skim a rather large asteroid to cut corners and catch him faster, but a large obstacle is also a visibility gamble, and it hadn’t worked in their favor. He could see the reflection of the explosion in the transparisteel of his cockpit. 

Grogu babbled happily, arms in the air. Mando chuckled. 

Only 10 left. 

He pulled a tight turn and then diverted between several large rocky chunks, and flipped his engines to reverse and then up and low to kill his speed and add a slight rotation, lest he lose all his momentum and let his leak get worse. 

His prey fell for his trap, swerving around the rock right in front of him, trying to cut him off. One shot from his barrels and the clueless pilot was little more than a smattering of stardust. 

Just 9 more to go. 

As he swerved and dodged, closing in on yet another poorly trained pilot, his comm crackled to life in his cockpit, a familiar voice drifting through the void between them as a few blasts from a new ship entered the fray. 

“Hello, old friend! You look like you could use some assistance?” He didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling. 

“You could say that,” He responded, trying to keep the giddiness from his own voice. 

“You sure got yourself into a fun little tangle here,” she quipped, zipping in behind him, between the Mandalorian’s N1 and his pursuers. “Brake right!” 

On cue, Mando abruptly changed course, diverting from the targeting system of the opponent that had been closing in on him. 

“You seem to be leaving a breadcrumb trail of fuel behind you. Is that why you called?” 

“It is,” he answered, in his usual short but direct habit. 

The metallic sound of an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh crackled through the comms. Mando felt a twinge of guilt for finding a reason to part ways all those years ago. He'd missed her. 

Somewhere in the distance, he saw blaster fire and a flash of orange and yellow. 

8 left.

As they chased and swerved like a coordinated team, he finally got a good look at her ship. 

“That’s a bigger ship than I remember you having,” he commented. 

Two explosions rocked the rings around them as debris scattered, only 6 more to go. 

“Yeah, got lucky. It was given to me by some good friends.” 

“Given to you? It looks like a Zyggerian Slave Ship…” Mando’s voice was laced with doubt. Was this the same woman he remembered? 

“It WAS, at one point in its history. But you know I take down Slavers on sight.” 

He chuckled with relief, “So that hasn’t changed a bit.” 

“Nope! How about you? Anything new in your life?” She asked, she always did have more fun with battles when they were paired with witty banter. 

“See for yourself.” He diverted up and left, soaring in front of her cockpit, allowing her to get a good look at the occupants of his little Nabooian starfighter, AND knock out his pursuer as it trailed unsuspecting through her sights. 

5 left. 

“Do I spy a little foundling in your lap, Djarin?” 

He chuckled, stealing a glance down at the little guy tucked into his bandolier. “That you do.” 

In his lap, Grogu squealed with joy, seemingly convinced they were riding the best rollercoaster he’d ever been on. 

“Sure sounds like a cute little one! Though I have to say, I think that leak you’ve got is getting worse. Tell ya what, why don’t we corral them over by that big dent of a crater in the obnoxiously round asteroid over there and finish this?” 

“How do you propose we get them over there?” He was getting nervous about his fuel levels too. 

“What else? Make ‘em think they cornered us, of course!” 

“That was always one of your favorite maneuvers,” he noted. 

“Yeah. It’s fun, and it’s fast, and it’s efficient. All of which are beneficial right about now.” 

A few maneuvers later, the pair crossed in front of the big crater and swung out and behind their pursuers, cornering them against the crater they were about to make larger, and opening fire. 

“See? Fast and finished! How about that?” 

“I might need you to come to me….” He seemed a little embarrassed about it, though someone who didn’t know him very well wouldn’t be able to hear the hidden pain in his voice. 

“Alright, hang tight. I’m gonna scoop you into the cargo bay and we can take a look at your ship. Can’t wait to meet the little one!” 

Din sighed, what an embarrassing way to say hi to an old flame. 

A few minutes later, Din stepped out of his ship into the cargo bay of hers. 

“No. Grogu, you stay there. I need both hands to take a look at the damage. Maybe she can take us to Tatooine if it’s too bad.” 

“I don’t know who or what is on Tatooine, but I should have all the tools you need here to fix it on this ship. Though if that’s an N1 I might not have the custom parts on hand you’ll need to get her running again.” She tried to hide the jealousy in her voice. Clearly Tatooine had something or someone meaningful to him. 

“It is. Good eye.” He notes, stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his helmet as he knelt beside his ship, reaching into the gaps between hull plates to better assess the damage. “I figure if Peli and the Jawas can’t get the right parts, maybe Boba can.” 

“Good friends of yours?” It was a good thing he wasn’t looking at her, she was struggling to keep the jealousy from making her look a bit put out. 

“Of a sort,” his voice held no clues as to their significance to him. So, he was back to being his usual vague self when he answered her questions. This would be fun. 

He stands, satisfied with his assessment of his ship, “Looks like it’s just minor damage, though I might need a new fuel hatch and hinge.” 

“If you want one that’s a little more blaster proof I could make you one with a touch of beskar, or at least reinforce it with a bit more shielding than the original design had. As much as I love the J-type Newbian ships, every ship flying between the stars has a few flaws, and that was one of theirs.” 

“And yet, you’re flying this,” he gestures to the ship around them, finally taking a chance to look around, and to take a good look at her. 

He takes a deep breath, just looking at her. “You’re still wearing the armor.” His voice has the twinge of memory in it. “But still sans helm.”

“I am still of Mandalorian heritage, the beskar was passed down in my family to me. I am still Mandalorian, according to some traditions, just not all of them… since I took off my helmet… I got tired of never seeing the stars with my own eyes, of never getting a chance to openly react to people’s expressions without coming across as gruff and unyielding. Though that can be very helpful, it can also be a negative thing at times. Children tend to fear a face they cannot read.” She clarified, unsure of how he would react to it given that he seemed to be handling that very scenario just fine. 

“I know,” he muttered. “I thought… you were the only one that did that…” 

“I take it you have met others now?” She asked. 

“Yes…” his tone implied he was still grappling with it, but he seemed to be accepting that it was a way to live and remain Mandalorian. “I had to atone for it…. But if I hadn’t taken it off, I would never have been able to rescue him.” His visor turned back towards the open cockpit of his little starfighter. 

A delighted gurgle from the cockpit of the N1 announced the appearance of a little green head with big ears and curious eyes. 

“Well hello there, little one!” she cooed, excitement adding a happy glimmer to her eyes as she took small steps towards the ship.

The little green bean lifted his arms to her, like he wanted her to pick him up. 

She looked hesitantly back at Din. “Can I pick him up?” 

Din nodded, once, but watched, carefully as she stepped forward and scooped up his little bundle of joy. 

“Hello! Aren’t you a sweet thing!” She automatically began to sway back and forth when he was in her arms. “What’s your name?” 

The baby babbled gibberish at her, reaching up to put a little hand on her chin. 

Din found himself getting jealous. Perhaps there were pros to not wearing the helmet anymore. He’d been struggling with the issue of wearing the helmet at all times since he’d gotten Grogu back and Bo had been allowed to remove her helmet. Now, once again, he found himself debating. To distract himself, he focused on her question. 

“Grogu,” Din stated, “His name is Grogu.” 

“Grogu!” She repeated, and the little one looked up at her expectantly, “Is that you?” 

A little grin and bubbly laugh echoed from the child on her hip. And she laughed too, hugging the child to her. 

“Goodness, you’re a cute little one!” She giggled. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to hang out with foundlings!” She told his contented little face. 

Din stepped forward, silent as ever, unsure if he wished she could see the smile he wore beneath his helmet. He was glad she was getting along well with the kid already. 

“Oh, does Buir want you back already?” She asked as Din approached. 

Grogu giggled and extended his arms towards Din. 

She smiled and passed him the baby, watching as Din stepped into father mode. Extra gentle hands cradling the baby’s head and back as he looked him over, adjusting his little coat, then tucking him into his hand, settling him to face outwards. 

When Din looked back up, he found her watching him closely, biting her lip. He felt himself release a silent sigh. So she did still want him too. Maybe it wasn’t too late for the two of them after all. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, content to just be around each other again. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Din started, voice a little hoarse, unsure of how much he wanted to say. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she replied, laying a hand on his shoulder in her unyielding need to be nearer to him. Her face turned towards his pauldron, a look of surprise on her face. “You got a signet!” 

“We got a signet,” Din corrected, proud of his little clan. 

She hesitantly retracted her hand. “Oh! We! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were… uh…” 

Din had forgotten he hadn’t done anything to assure her that he too had not yet found a partner! 

“We’re a clan of two now,” Din said, his voice full of pride as he looked at the small bundle in his arms and it looked up at him. “I adopted Grogu. He’s my apprentice.” 

“Oh! Two!” She breathed a sigh of relief, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “Well, your clan is always welcome wherever I call home! Speaking of, if we want to be the most efficient with fuel, it’ll take us about 2 days to get to Tatooine from here. Why don’t you two come upstairs to the main cabin and make yourselves comfortable? I have food if you’re hungry, and space to lay down - with privacy! If you need to take that helmet off, or take a nap, or anything. There’s a spare room if you want it.”

“Grogu is always hungry,” Din comments, making her laugh. 

“Well, hopefully, I have something he likes! Follow me,” and she headed back up the ladder to the crew compartments. 

Grogu takes a nap after eating almost twice his weight in snacks. 

Din finds himself making a point to get to know his former partner again. 

“Well I gotta say, I remember you having a silver ship, but that’s a much smaller silver ship than I remember you having,” she says with a sly smile, echoing his comment from earlier. 

“Yeah, Razor Crest took too big of a hit…” Din explained. He couldn’t make himself say more. It was still a bit hard for him to admit he didn’t have a real space he could call home, for the kid’s sake. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she looked at him with concern, eyes boring into his helmet. 

Sometimes he swore she could see through it like she had x-ray vision. Or at least she made him feel seen, the real man beneath the beskar. 

“Hmm, well, perhaps you don’t have one yet, but you could have space in a ship to call home soon… if you wanted…” she hinted. 

Din was ecstatic, but also debatably certain that he was reading too much into it, so he just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. 

She could see his chest plate rising and falling rapidly, and knew her playful comment was starting to get to him. 

She smiled at him, and Din almost melted right there. He was sure she could hear his breathing through the modulator as he tried desperately to get his emotions under control. 

After 2 days he’s making excuses to stay in her company…. 

After 2 weeks he starts flirting more directly. A wry grin from a visiting Boba (also sans helm) followed by a laugh from Peli tells her they’ve never seen Mando act this way before and it definitely means what she thinks it does. Things just flow so smoothly between them, it’s like no time has passed at all. And even the few moments when they do catch each other off guard with something, it is always quickly resolved with a laugh and a teasing nudge or a quick chat and acceptance of differences or an alteration of habits to accommodate personal preferences. 

After 2 months, he finds himself pulling her into his lap and resting the metallic dome of his helmet against her temple after putting the baby to bed. 

She hums with a contented smile and leans into him, welcoming his first attempt at a keldable kiss. 

Din’s grip on her waist tightens. 

“You know, I had one hell of a crush on you when we were partners… I think I still do, actually.” She, a woman whom he personally knows to be a badass Mandalorian warrior capable of knocking him on his ass in minutes during combat training sessions, seems shy when she says it. 

Din chuckles. “I did too, and still do.” 

She swiftly turns in his arms and nuzzles into the cape covering his shoulders. 

“You seem to have made peace with my decision to not wear the helmet all the time?” She asks, still curious what his stance is on the matter now. 

“I have,” is all he says. “Are you okay with my decision to keep mine on?” 

“Yes,” she answers, and places a quick kiss on the side of his helm to reassure him. “Do you think Grogu will be okay with this too?” 

Din reaches up to put a hand under her chin so he can look her in the eye when he says it, “I think he’s already accepted that you’re not going anywhere.”

She laughs and hides in his shoulder again. 

“You’re good with him,” Din tells her. 

“So are you,” she answers. “He adores you, ya know.” She surfaces from his cape to say it. 

Din tilts his helmet up to look into her eyes, “Will you stay with us?” 

Her eyes widen with excitement, and she bursts into a grin. “Yes!” She shifts, fixing him with an expression that hints at a question for him too. “Would you like to move into my bedroom while we’re busy adventuring?” 

“Only if you’ll move into my cabin with us on Navarro when we’re more domestic.” He teases. 

She giggles and nods. “I would love to! Though, perhaps first we should try sharing a bed for a few nights, make sure everything works out smoothly?” 

“I don’t know if I’d be able to resist being more intimate with you if we try that.” He admits, quietly. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she whispers. 

Din masks his groan as a grunt as he shifts beneath her. 

She giggles. “Don’t hold back, Din. I need you too!” she croons, the cool beskar of his helmet brushing against her lips as he leans into her. 

“There’s a few things we need to discuss, first.” He seems nervous to even say it. 

“Okay,” she says with understanding, as though this isn’t such an intimate conversation. “Let’s talk about how to do this,” she encourages. 

He can take his clothes off, but not his helmet unless her eyes are covered… and he very much wants to be able to kiss her… everywhere, though he’s not sure he’s ready to admit that last part out loud just yet. 

So she offers to get a blindfold… and or a sleep mask so they can sleep together… 

Din nods, excitedly. “You would do that, for me?” 

“Even better,” she states, “I already use a sleep mask regularly, so it’s just a matter of adding you to the bed, Love.” 

Din grips her waist tightly with excitement. 

“Do you want to start tonight, or wait a few nights first?” She asks, letting him take the reigns since this is about his comfort level. 

“Let’s wait a few nights,” he thinks it through, “I want to tell Grogu about this change before it happens… so he knows where to find me… if he needs me.” 

“Okay, just let me know when you’re ready,” she states, placing a lingering kiss on the edge of his visor.

Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it! And NO dropping it into an AI to finish it for me! That’s stealing my work and feeding it to an AI without my consent. It is not okay to give an AI something you didn’t write yourself! 

taglist: @bambambunny @kenobidevil @cw80831

[daydreamingleclerc]

private but not secret; lance stroll

lance & his new girlfriend, who just happens to be esteban’s sister, slowly begin to announce their relationship via instagram

includes; slightly suggestive content, a little bit of swearing and some (almost definitely) poorly translated french. this was rushed & super quick but i really felt in my lance feels. i hope u enjoy!

ynocon✔️

liked by lancestroll, estebanocon and 34,213 others

ynocon invite me next time estebanocon

view all 12,435 comments

estebanocon you're gonna have to learn the rules first...

ynocon my way is more fun 🥹

f1fan4325 no way is that y/n's house...

f1lookbook it looks oddly like lance's house...

ynocon it's a hotel room guys! pls calm down😌

lilymhe i know it's just a pic of your legs... but you're so pretty <3

ynocon my wife <3

lancestroll✔️

liked by astonmartinf1, chloestroll, ynocon and 673,074 others

lancestroll thinking of swapping out the helmet for the cowboy hat

view all 193,056 comments

ynocon respectfully... don't

lancestroll you're just jealous cause you can't ride horses

ynocon fuck you

ynfan1932 y/n and lance interacting ?!?! what is happening

estiebestie0438 they would be so cute together don't even deny it

scottyjames so that's where my cowboy hat went..

danielricciardo who's a better cowboy? me or you?

lancestroll i don't think you want me to answer that one buddy

ynocon✔️

liked by danielricciardo, chloestroll, itselenaberri and 98,463 others

ynocon guess who <3

view all 16,374 comments

lancestroll i think it's fernandoalo_official 🧐

ynocon can't be.. fernando's taller xx

lancestroll unbelievably uncalled for...

ynocon yet somehow still true 🤪

ynfan7426 we've been suspecting this for weeks thank GOD you finally confirmed it 😂

ynocon i like to keep you guys on your toes x

estebanocon you're welcome by the way 😌

ynocon mister matchmaker x

chloestroll well aren't you a little dreamboat 😍

ynocon that's all you baby xx

lancestroll✔️

liked by estebanocon, scottyjames and 932,327 others

lancestroll 🤍🕯️

view all 56,325 comments

ynocon always making me laugh 24/7 it's embarrassing

lancestroll don't start misbehaving now

ynocon why not...? i thought you liked that 😈

lanceandynfan yn getting horny in lance's comments will never not be funny

estebanocon it's not funny when you're her older brother.

danielricciardo god this is so disgusting

lancestroll stay jealous x

ynocon always room for one more daniel xx

ynocon✔️

liked by estebanocon, chloestroll and 109,324 others

ynocon happy birthday baby. je vous aimé <3

view all 45,264 comments

scottyjames no photo credits?

ynocon you don't deserve them scotty x

lancestroll je t'aime tellement <3

ynocon l'amour de ma vie <3

estebanocon c'est dégoûtant, prends une chambré

ynocon piss off.

ynandlance6743 you guys are so cute!

chloestroll yn you're my favourite woman on the planet

ynocon likewise, chlo xx

lilymhe how have you been together almost six months already..

ynocon i'm clueless

lancestroll✔️ and ynocon✔️

liked by pierregasly, sebastianvettel, chloestroll and 432,740 others

lancestroll breaks with you are my favourite breaks to take. happy anniversary, my love.

view all 142,745 comments

lancefan4739 she's 100% only with him for the money 🤣

ynocon i make double what you make in six months in two weeks. but sure, buddy. whatever helps you sleep at night.

danielricciardo lance. you've officially been punching over your weight for a year now, buddy. congrats!

scottyjames someones bitter..

danielricciardo i'm not even gonna start talking about you..

estebanocon see. my meddling worked🧐

ynandlance4321 meddling?

estebanocon lance said he liked my sister and when she came to a race i told her to ask him out because he was too scared to do it... and now we're here 😆😆

lancestroll i'm so glad everybody knows that story now..

ynocon happy anniversary to us, baby. love you always <3

lancestroll even more than you love daniel?

ynocon always <3

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 3

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 3/?

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: suggestive, 18+, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

a/n: thank you for reading! please lmk what you guys think! xx

Chapter 3

  The moment Night Court winnowed out, you and Thesan made a beeline to his office. You settled onto a seat and propped your feet onto his desk as he plopped onto the leather chair with a huff. Thesan took a moment to check on the wards before he spoke out loud.

  “Did you find out what they want? Rhysand was being such a hard-ass and gave nothing away. All we talked about were treaties and half the time-,” said Thesan as he poured himself a drink. “I was trying to get his interest away from the Golden Warrior.”

 You thought about telling Thesan about the library incident, but you quickly dismissed it. Despite the Night Court being sneaky bastards, you realized that they were a powerful ally you couldn’t afford to lose. If Thesan had heard about the other events, he would undoubtedly wage war. He and the other High Lords had spilled blood for less, so it was in your best opinion to keep your mouth shut.

“A few days after Amarantha was killed, they felt a powerful surge of magic coming from Dawn Court. We must have been so distracted when you came home, that the wards you put up vanished or relaxed. It doesn’t help that I’d been forgetting to wear my jewels and must’ve weakened my hold on my magic in that period of relaxation,” you told him. “When we re-did the wards on the Palace in preparation for the Night Court, we probably fixed the wards that have kept my power hidden.”

Thesan paled as his eyes grew distant in thought. “Shit,” he said. “Ever since you were young, I’ve always helped you dampen your power. I can’t believe I forgot about it—fuck, I’m so sorry Y/n.” Guilt and concern flowed through his body and before he could freak out about his mistake, you reached over and grasped his arm. His glow dimmed as he looked at your hand, “I’m so sorry, no one was ever supposed to feel your power.”

“Don’t forget that I’m a grown female and have successfully protected the Palace and our territory for almost fifty years. I think I’ve proved that I can hold my own,” you said. “Besides, I’m partially at fault because being half-High Fae makes it hard to control my powers.”

“I wished you never had to go through that,” whispered Thesan. You just shrugged at him and smiled. What’s done is done. There were things you never told Thesan, but he found out through the other Peregryns and his sparrows when he returned from Under the Mountain. Some Fae had used the absence of Thesan as an excuse to run rampant and do whatever evil they wanted. It was you who punished and executed whenever it was necessary.

Every single day he was underneath that mountain his first thought would be of you, wondering how you were faring without him, Callon, and the others. He glanced at the scars that ran parallel to your cheekbone, a reminder of those horrid claws that hurt you. When Thesan first heard the story of how the Bogge had slashed through your golden helmet, he shuddered. High Lords were usually the only faerie powerful enough to kill a Bogge but when you told him you managed to slay it, pride and concern filled him. He made sure you were a fierce warrior, but to kill a Bogge… the extent of your magic scared him. In a way, it was better that Amarantha had no idea of your existence. If she caught a whiff of your power and what you could do, there was a good chance everyone in Prythian and the Continent would be under her rule.

You removed the glamour from the necklace to reveal brightly glowing sapphires, the power thrumming and threatening to break free. “While we’re on the topic of controlling my magic—I think I need more jewels.”

Thesan swore as he took a piece of paper and wrote down instructions to Nuan, his best tinkerer, to make you a new necklace with more siphons. With a wave of his hand, the note vanished and appeared on top of Nuan’s worktable.

“It seems Nuan got the idea of storing my power in jewels from the Illyrians,” you continued. “Azriel told me they call them Siphons too; they use it a little differently, but they have similar functions.”

The High Lord of Dawn nodded, his thoughts filled with concern over you and your magic. You were the second-best healer in all of Prythian, ranked behind your cousin. The two of you possessed the power to heal, to stop healing, and to reverse it. While Thesan was a divine and all-powerful High Lord, what made you special was your ability to poison and plague. Thesan and your parents first discovered your dark abilities when you were about 10 years old. You liked to sneak around the palace and one day you overheard an adult insult your High Fae mother for marrying a Peregryn warrior and supposedly ‘staining the High Lord’s bloodline’. The fae started calling your father slurs and before you realized it, you lifted your tiny glowing hands towards the fae and wished a horrible death. You can still remember the screams as the fae’s insides started liquifying, blood coming out of every orifice. That was when Thesan and your parents realized how powerful and dangerous you were. There were evil beings out there who would love to mold a young and impressionable fae. Thesan refused to let his little cousin be taken advantage of, so he made sure you learned to control your powers and knew how to defend yourself.

***

Days passed and so far, there was no major news from Night Court or any of the others. Things were quiet and no shadows were spotted in the halls of the Palace. Nuan had made you a brand-new necklace with 5 large blue sapphires, the biggest stone was in the middle with the other slightly smaller sapphires flanking each side. Putting it on immediately helped the restless energy that thrummed through your body, you couldn’t wait for the day you no longer had to suppress your magic.

You’ve been having dreams that interrupt your sleep, some good and some bad. The nightmares varied, sometimes they were about the creatures or faeries you killed during Amarantha’s reign, your parent’s death, or Thesan dying Under the Mountain. They always felt realistic, so whenever you woke up, it would take a few minutes for you to gather yourself and realize that it was all a dream. The worst hyper-realistic dream you had was when you dreamt of the Bogge and how its claws kept slashing into your golden helmet until it finally reached your skin. You dreamt about fighting half-blind as blood had spilled into your eye. The pain was so real and visceral, that you woke up screaming and clutching the side of your face. Thesan and Callon heard the commotion and because all bed chambers were warded against winnowing, they sprinted to your room. Callon barged in brandishing a sword until he realized you weren’t in danger. He stayed to help calm you while Thesan went to the kitchen to make you molten chocolate.

You were doing some paperwork in your office when a large yawn split your jaw. Another yawn followed and you sagged into your leather chair. You almost wished it was one of your usual nightmares, but last night’s dream was different. You dreamt of a child that you’d never seen before. The room was so dark, it had to be a cellar of some sort, somewhere underground. The soft moonlight that seeped through a caged window was the only source of light. It was a little boy who couldn’t have been more than 8 years old, it was hard to tell because you couldn’t see his face. He was hunched in the corner holding his little hands to his chest. You could have sworn you saw wings behind him, but it was so dark you couldn’t be sure. That was all you remembered from the dream, but it was enough to horrify you. Who could do that to a child? From the looks of it, it seemed like he spent most of his time in that dark place.

You woke up with a start and immediately turned on the faelights, you prayed to the Mother that this was some awful fiction your traumatized brain made up. If this little boy was real, your heart shattered for him. You didn’t get a wink of sleep after that, you kept the faelights on and waited for dawn to arrive.

***

The mysteriousness of Dawn Court was something that consumed Azriel’s thoughts, he reasoned that he couldn’t shake off that feeling of that dark dominating magic. If he was being honest with himself, it was you who his mind kept coming back to. He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking of you, was it your beauty or that incredibly confusing personality of yours? All his interactions with you made his heart flutter either from the smile you’d send him or from the anxiety that shot up when you were confrontational.

Rhys kept him busy with missions and he was more than thankful to do something that kept his mind off you. Whenever he was home in Velaris, that was when things were getting confusing for Azriel. To Azriel, Morrigan was the epitome of female beauty, someone who was strong yet elegant. He has spent 500 years fighting by her side, being her friend, and loving her. He was sure Mor knew that he loved her and unfortunately for him, she never acknowledged it. Azriel wasn’t surprised, how could someone like Mor who was Night Court royalty ever love someone like him? A bastard Illyrian?

Last night, Mor wore a revealing backless dress, Azriel would normally look away to avoid looking at her smooth skin but this time, Azriel stared. He was looking at Mor’s exposed back but not in a sexual way, he was looking because he noticed the lack of muscle and how different you were from Mor. The shadowsinger observed that you favored backless dresses and tops, there were the only things you wore during the Night Court’s stay at Dawn. It was hard not to glance at your body, you were athletic, strong, and incredibly feminine. You were so beautiful even Rhysand had taken his time to appreciate your powerful figure. When he first saw the sun-kissed skin and the dips near your shoulder blades and spine, Azriel felt his heart skip a beat. For a split second, he imagined what it would look like to see you arch and writhe beneath him. He remembered how his eyes widened and his heartbeat skyrocketed, he usually never thought of females he just met in such a lustful manner—or at least not immediately.

Azriel was shocked, he had never ever compared anyone to Mor. Feeling strange and annoyed that you were consuming most of his thoughts, Azriel drank multiple cups of wine and even let Mor convince him to join the rest of the Inner Circle for a night out at Rita’s. While his friends were dancing, Azriel sat by himself in their private booth, the music and drinks did little to distract him. His shadows swarmed around as he thought of how perplexing you were, how your sweet twinkling eyes could instantly turn cold and unnerving. He thought about sending his shadows to spy on you, but he stopped himself, you had the incredible talent of catching him when he was trying to be discreet. If you caught him one more time, he had no doubt you’d come for him in a violent rage.

He watched Mor and Cassian dance together; the Illyrian took Mor’s hands and spun her around as she threw her head back and laughed. It was a sound that Azriel loved to hear. The memory of Azriel holding you as he flew up in the sky flashed in his mind. You were happy and relaxed, your laughs sounding like the chime of bells. Shaking his head, the shadowsinger lifted the glass cup to his lips and took a long drink. Amber liquid burned down his throat and he sighed as he let the shadows entirely consume him.

***

You were eating breakfast with Thesan in one of the courtyards when one of your spies briskly walked toward you. Kerina was half Fae and half water wraith; she was one of your best and had a stern demeanor to her. Kerina bowed to Thesan before handing you her report papers, before you could thank her, she turned to address both you and Thesan.

“I have confirmation that Summer Court had sent 3 blood rubies to the Night Court. My sources are saying that they were addressed to High Lord Rhysand, Feyre Cursebreaker, and Amren.”

Thesan’s eyebrows raised but your jaw fully dropped.

“High Lord Tarquin sent out blood rubies? As in the death sentence rubies?” you exclaimed, wanting Kerina to confirm.

She nodded, “Correct. The water wraiths are telling me that two females had stolen something in one of their ocean vaults. If you need anything else, you know where to find me, my lady.”

Kerina departed and you were finally able to show your true shock to Thesan. You threw your hands in the air and the High Lord laughed.

“I can’t believe the sweet and handsome Tarquin sent Night Court those rubies. Whatever they stole… it must be so precious and important for Tarquin to declare them mortal enemies.”

Thesan looked at you with a sly smile.

“What?”

“I think you’re forgetting that Tarquin is still a High Lord, he may be young and a little naive but he’s the newest and youngest, he has to establish his dominance,” explained Thesan. “Besides, not everyone has had the pleasure to bed and be in Tarquin’s good graces.”

Last month, you had to personally deliver some documents and reestablish court alliances with Summer for Thesan. Since you had to hide your wings and suppress your magic, you became extremely restless. You wore the necklace, but it only helped for a few hours. Tarquin was a charming flirt, and it took him two days to convince you to sleep with him. The High Lord of Summer was attractive, and his personality was just as lovely, the only reason why you were hesitant was that you thought it wouldn’t be appropriate since you were Thesan’s 2nd. You quickly discovered that Tarquin did not mind at all.

You remember the energy in your body made everything feel like static, and the day your resolve faded, you returned Tarquin’s flirtatious advances. You kissed him and then you were suddenly sprawled on his expansive war table with the High Lord of Summer between your thighs. Tarquin took you on the table, his desk, and on the wall, right next to a large map of Prythian. Activities were moved to his bed chambers and that was where you rode him till—

“Ahem,” said Thesan as he cleared his throat. “Can you stop? I can scent you right now, it’s disgusting.”

Your eyes snap up at him, surprised that you had zoned out. Thesan was smirking and you threw a piece of a croissant at him. You wished you never indulged in what happened between you and Tarquin. Scowling, you shifted in your seat and gulped down some juice.

“He’s a good male, I wouldn’t be opposed if this was something you want to pursue in the future,” said Thesan. “I want you to be happy.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes for the second time that day. “You know how I feel about relationships. No, thank you. Besides, we agreed that it was a one-time thing that didn’t mean anything. We’re friends and will stay friends.”

Thesan shrugged. “One day you’ll take back everything you say about relationships. You’ll meet someone who is going to knock you off your feet, maybe one day you’ll be cauldron blessed and find your mate.”

You didn’t even answer with words, you just grunted in annoyance. You were never going to change your stance against relationships and romance. Your biggest secret, something Thesan doesn’t even know is you hoped you would never meet your mate. It would save you all the pain and effort of rejecting them.

Later that day you were sitting in your office with Kerina’s report spread out in front of you. Azriel hinted that there was something big happening in Prythian, so you had the spies do some digging and report anything strange happening in Prythian and surrounding countries. So far, there have been only menial land disputes and some horrible management of the dark creatures in the borderlands between Spring Court and the Wall. Looking through the papers again, you confirm nothing suspicious besides Summer Court sending the blood rubies.

Your thoughts drifted to Azriel the shadowsinger, it had been weeks since you last saw him, and you had yet to form an opinion on Azriel. Was he the most handsome male you’ve ever met? Yes. Was he a sneaky bastard who spied on your Court? Yes. To give him some credit, he told you some form of the truth when you caught him trying to sneak into the library but that was only because you threatened to end the alliance with Rhysand. Despite his spying, the male you talked with during sunrise was different. Maybe you saw a glimpse of the real Azriel, the personality he has when he’s at home and not working. As you sent in new orders to Kerina and the others, you couldn’t help but think of those cold and calculating hazel eyes.

***

A couple of months passed, and the sense of impending doom grew stronger every day. Reports of dark creatures roaming the border between Dawn and the Middle came in at a steady rate, there were enough threats that you had to go under your guise as the Golden Warrior to slay these creatures. You were a great warrior without your wings, but you were lethal when your feathers were out. You had to be careful not to use your powers because if Night Court was keeping tabs on your power signature, the others were too. The heavy presence of these creatures only confirmed your suspicions that something big was coming. Even though Callon was the Captain of the Peregeryns, you were still ranked above him, so you had them do extra training along with military exercises with the foot soldiers. Callon may be your cousin’s lover and he saw you as his little sister, but he was also extremely loyal to the Court and its hierarchy. If you told him to do something, he always obeyed without a question.

 One afternoon, you were going over some paperwork when you heard a bird chirping on the balcony. Looking up, Thesan’s sparrow was hopping on the banister and whistling as if it was speaking to you. Lifting your hand, the sparrow flew and perched on your finger as it watched you with intelligent eyes. The High Lord of Dawn was the only one who could communicate with the birds, but you knew this was Thesan’s way of summoning you.

You stroked its feathered head, “Tell him I’m on my way.”

It chirped back happily and took flight. You straightened out the papers on your desk before waving a hand to turn off the faelights. Darkness engulfs the room, and you gasp, the memories of your dream last night flooding back to you. It was the second time you dreamt about that dark cellar and the little boy who sat in it. This time you heard the crying and sniffles before you could even spot his dark form sitting in the corner. The dream was strange, just like the previous one, you couldn’t move and only saw what the dream wanted you to see. It seemed like you were sitting in that cellar for hours, it was only when the boy lay down when you saw the bandages. The boy was still faceless but under the dim moonlight, you saw his little hands wrapped in cotton, blood blooming under the white cloth. All you could do was stare in horror as the pain and exhaustion lulled him to sleep.

It took you all day to forget about the horrid dream and the sounds of his weeping. Ever since the first dream you convinced yourself it wasn’t real. This heavy weight fell on your shoulders the moment you woke up, even though it happened in your sleep, it all felt real. Deep down you knew that room and that child existed, you almost sent one of the spies to do some research, but you stopped yourself. You couldn’t waste any court resources, especially now that Rhysand had called for a High Lord meeting.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and swiftly made your way to Thesan’s office where he sat holding out a thick piece of paper to read. Callon was already sitting on one of the chairs and gave you a wave.

“Most of the High Lords agreed to meeting, so now the only problem is agreeing to where the courts will meet,” you said summarizing the letter.

He nodded before resting his hand under his jaw and sighed. He was still so tired of all the hell he experienced with Amarantha, all the news of unrest spreading across Prythian and Hybern gave him a constant underlying headache.  

“What if we offered to host the meeting? Here, in the Palace.”

He scrunched his face in annoyance because he already knew it was the best option. “Why does it have to be me?” grunted Thesan.

Callon made a face, but he didn’t interrupt, he wanted to give you a chance to assert your authority even though he disagreed with your idea.

“Because we’re closest to the middle and there is no way High Lord Kallias is going to offer to host,” you said handing the letter back to him. “Rhysand would have already offered but most of the courts don’t like him and all the other High Lords except for Tarquin seem like jackasses that won’t agree to host.”

Thesan frowned, “When did I become the friendliest High Lord?”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t say most friendly…maybe most tolerable? You’re the only High Lord in existence who has stayed mostly neutral in past battles and disputes. It makes sense for us to be the hosts, there's less of a chance these suspicious High Lords are going to think we’re going to double-cross anyone.”

Feeling the need to raise his concerns, Callon politely cleared his throat. “I don’t know—the security concerns… there could be fights that could level this Palace.”

“We have special wards to avoid magic and ensure fairness whenever all the High Lords come to gather but Callon’s right. I’m sure someone is going to find a way to break through the shields and cause all kinds of trouble,” said Thesan.

You glanced at the gleaming siphons around your neck and then at the two males. “This meeting needs to happen, and Rhysand knows it too, his letters feel so desperate. If a fight whether physical or magical breaks out, I’ll neutralize it,” you said gingerly touching the sapphires. “I’ll unleash my power if I have to.”

  Thesan’s frown deepened. “No—I don’t know, it’s too dangerous.” His rich brown eyes clouded with that overbearing concern.

Your jaw clenched as you stared at your cousin. “You promised me that I would get to decide when I would reveal my powers and the Golden Warrior. Now it seems like the perfect time with a potential conflict coming and someone’s bound to find out. If Night Court noticed, I’m sure the others did too.”

 Thesan looked at you coolly not wanting to lose his temper. You were right, it was only a matter of time before someone found out what you were. He was afraid of the repercussions you would get when people find out that you and the Golden Warrior were the same person. Thesan’s enemies were your enemies and with the added revelation of the Warrior, he was sure that list would double. He wasn’t ready to share how powerful you were, in fear of making that target on your back even bigger but Thesan knew it was no longer his call. He has kept you hidden long enough, it was time for you to spread your wings.

   “Okay,” he said quietly. “You get to call the shots with your powers from now on, you deserve it.”

 With a grin, you lunged at Thesan to hug him before you settled down to help him draft a letter to the High Lords.

***

 The preparations for the High Lords' arrival took all your time and energy and you slept through the night with no memory of the dreams you had. Despite dreamless nights, that dark cellar haunted your thoughts to the point you wanted to find that wretched place and rescue the child and burn it to the ground. Thesan had Callon and other Peregryns do over the security while you and other courtiers who were gifted with magic began enforcing more wards and shields on the Palace. This type of magic was so specific it took all your concentration as you learned from one of the older Fae how to properly enforce specific protective shields you’ve never used before.  When Thesan was available to help with the wards, he sent you off to visit the cities and ensure that Nuan’s compounds that defended against faebane were being produced efficiently.

 The Night Court was also doing their due diligence and making backup plans for their backup plans just in case it turned to shit in Dawn Court. Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand peered down at a map of the Palace and came up with many escape plans. Cassian and Rhysand were anxious about the visit, but Azriel was a little more concerned about the strange female that had been plaguing his thoughts. Shadows pooled over his shoulders and blocked his brother’s view.

“Uh, Azriel… what’s going on?” asked Cassian. “I haven’t seen you this anxious about a meeting before.”

Azriel’s beautiful features stayed neutral, but his crossed arms and taut muscles betrayed him. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been anxious to see you again, it’s been a long time since anyone has taken his mind off the torture of loving Morrigan. He found the last few months to be different. He still blushed every time Mor gave him attention. Like the time she brushed past him and squeezed his arm or when she propped her feet onto his thighs when everyone was lounging around the living room drinking wine. Then there were the times Mor would pull away or avoid his gaze, these moments would usually sour his mood for the entire day, but nowadays everything stung less.

[blues824]

Could I request Ace, Leona, Sebek, and Jamil with an s/o who's like the Egyptian god of war, deserts, storms, disorder, violence, and chaos, Set?

Egyptian mythology is just as (if not more) confusing than Greek and Roman mythology, but I’ve always loved learning about it.

Gender-neutral reader. Animal head on Set is a helmet instead here.

TW: Toxic relationship… kinda???

Ace Trappola

You both are chaotic bad, to say the least, and a headache for Riddle.

The only difference is that you have much more power than he does

Also, you have an animal helmet in the shape of an unspecified animal that you couldn’t even explain

You also wear a lot more gold in your dorm uniform than he did, as it was a symbol of you being a deity

Ace was your first experience in a healthy relationship

However, whenever you both fight, you create a huge storm in anger, and Grim has to rush over to Heartslabyul and beg the first year to apologize

In the same way that you protected Ra from Apophis, you protect your oh-so-lovely boyfriend from trouble

The only thing that you didn’t do was help him during Riddle’s overblot, as you were thriving in the chaos and disorder of it all

Leona Kingscholar

The only time I can see you both getting along is when you helped him and Ruggie sabotage the competition

After all, you are a bringer of chaos, and seeing the other teams lose their shit amused you

If we are going back to the beginning, you used your helmet to keep your anonymity 

You stepped on his tail that day, and when he yelled at you, you summoned your staff and demanded he bow to you

That started a rivalry between the two of you, as you both were cast aside for the king’s son to be the heir

The difference is that you can’t be the ruler of the gods, and Leona can’t be the king of a measly kingdom

Anyways, the only time where you both can actually be perceived as a couple is when you both are seen cuddling with each other and taking a nap instead of attending class

You did not help during his overblot, as you called it payback

Jamil Viper

Could you possibly not make it so hot in the dorm?

All the people are struggling with the heat, especially when Kalim was forcing everyone into the extra practice time

You could see right through his bullshit, and because of years fighting with your nephew, you were able to escape Scarabia rather easily

However, you did not help the Scarabia dorm. It’s their canon event.

Also, you knew what would happen if you didn’t interfere, and you loved the possible chaos in the upcoming days.

When he overblots, however, you could see that the Octavinelle trio and Kalim did not deserve this, so you used your powers to fight

One infirmary visit after Jamil passed out was enough to get you and him talking about how you knew what he was going through 

After all, you both have had to step out of the spotlight because someone close to you was present (even though you killed that someone, his wife resurrected him)

Sebek Zigvolt

Totally didn’t freak out about how it was so disrespectful to be more powerful than the great Waka-sama

Even though it was out of your control as you couldn’t choose who your parents were

Sebek was a stickler for the rules, meaning he was your complete opposite, and he absolutely loathed it

You were overly confident, but he made it a point to point out that you couldn’t even inherit the throne without Horus getting in your way, thus you could never equate to His Royal Highness.

That really got on your nerves, so you once caused a storm to reign over Diasomnia, and Sebek spent hours repenting for his sins because he thought Malleus was angry

Everyone laughed because they could tell that the storm clouds were not of the prince’s doing, but rather yours

The angry crocodile then goes to you, questioning your audacity, and you’re just standing there like ‘I killed my own brother and this is what gets you mad?’

As to why you would date this man, nobody knows, but it’s very funny because you both go head-to-head very often

[javier-pena]

permission

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader x Paz Vizsla

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You belong to Paz ... but there's something about Din Djarin. He's on your mind constantly.

Warnings: threesome (m/f/m) | I’m taking great liberty with the Death Watch’s rules (Din takes his helmet off in front of Paz) | Din and Paz have a difficult relationship | mentions of alcohol | semi-public sex | voyeurism kink | oral (f receiving) | use of a blindfold | use of restraints | mentions of breasts (no size though) | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | unprotected p in v sex | masturbation (m) | a bit of spanking | a bit of anal (f receiving) | creampie

Notes: I had the idea for this fic somewhere toward the end of Mandalorian S3 and then it took me a while to find the time to write it but here it is 🤭 shoutout, as always, to Dani @alexturner for reading this in advance even though she definitely isn't a Paz girlie.

***

The air in the private booth is stuffy, filled with laughter, with cries and music, with the sounds of metal jugs hitting wooden surfaces, spilling their contents over tables and hands. The only thing separating you from the commotion beyond is a thin curtain, only there to give the occupants of the room a semblance of privacy.

It’s just you and Paz tonight – he sits perched on a wooden stool that groans under his massive body every time he shifts. You sit on his lap, cool beskar steel pressing into your thighs through your thin pants. And then there’s Din Djarin, whom you have known for as long as you’ve known Paz, maybe even longer. Memories begin to blur when you hop from planet to planet, from system to system.

With one hand, Din lifts his helmet so his chin and bottom lip are exposed, and takes a sip from his drink. Paz mirrors him, shifting his weight and you with it. You lean closer to him for some purchase against his hard chest, looking at a spot just behind Din’s head, at a brown stain on a gray wall, at a lamp barely bright enough to illuminate a little corner, at a small bug scurrying down from the ceiling. You look anywhere but at Din’s visor, anywhere but at the macrobinocular viewplate that hides his piercing eyes, those eyes he can’t keep off you, that have been on you ever since you all sat down. As long as you find other things to focus on, his gaze doesn’t hold any power over you.

“Are you’re sure they’re on this planet?” you attempt to make conversation, to distract Din and yourself.

Both men grunt, but that’s the only response they grant you.

You shift on Paz’s lap, you squirm, and he slings an arm around your waist, gloved hand coming to rest on your stomach. His other hand holds onto his jug while his eyes pin down the man opposite him.

“If I was running from the law, I’d try to hide somewhere warm, preferably with a beach,” you try to strike up a conversation for a second time.

“They’re not running from the law,” Paz answers, his thumb brushing against your stomach.

“No, I know,” you say. “I was just saying, there are nicer places to hi-”

The rest of the sentence is lost somewhere in the stuffy air as Paz’s hand glides lower, two fingers coming to rest at the apex of your thighs, pressing down. You can’t be sure, but you think Din’s gaze follows Paz’s motions … at least he lowers his helmet slightly. He could also be staring at your chest, you realize, your face hot with embarrassment.

“Where would you hide then?” Din asks, a metallic undertone in his voice, distorted by the modulator in his helmet.

“Niamos, maybe,” you answer. “I’ve heard Spira is nice –”

An insistent pull low in your abdomen makes you leave the sentence hovering unfinished in the air above the table. Two of Paz’s fingers are massaging you through your pants, the pressure enough to light up your core, not really enough for anything else. You grip the edge of the table, pretend you’re trying to get more comfortable on Paz’s lap, while Din raises his head, his gaze settling on the man behind you. There is a wordless exchange – you can see it in the way Din shifts his shoulders, hear it in the harsh exhale of breath coming through Paz’s modulator.

Suddenly, Paz slings his arm around your chest and grips your shoulder with his free hand. “Do you really think you’d be able to outrun us?”

Your vision blurs as you see yourself cowering in a dark air vent, as you imagine yourself crouching behind the trunk of a sturdy tree, laying low in a run-down motel, scraping together some credits to bribe an official to let you off a planet without papers. All the while, you’re looking over your shoulder, you scan every crowd for a flash of beskar, blue or brown, for the glint of a visor reflecting sunlight. You see them kick down the door to your room, tie you up, drag you back to their ship … No, you wouldn’t be able to outrun them.

You shake your head.

“No, you’re right,” Paz agrees, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, even with the helmet covering his face.

He slips his hand past the waistband of your pants then, the coarse leather of his glove rough against the soft skin of your thighs and belly. He reaches down to where wet heat has begun to moisten your underwear, and holds you, his palm resting against your clit. Din’s chest is rising and falling so fast you notice it in spite of the strong armor covering him. You force yourself to stare directly at his visor, to imagine his hidden eyes on you, his mouth hanging open. Your own mouth is dry, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“I think you’d like that,” Paz goes on. “I think you’d like being at our mercy like that.”

You nod, because he’s right. You nod, because the thought has crossed your mind once or twice, when you watched them bring someone in, when you watched them handle their bounty as if they weighed nothing, their captive’s pleas falling on deaf ears. You nod, because Din’s hand closes harder around his jug, the leather of his glove groaning.

Paz notices too, and you can hear the gloating in his voice when he speaks next. “Would you like to touch her?”

You belong to Paz, but Din – it’s complicated. It’s an open secret there’s tension between the two men, between these two brothers by creed, because Paz got to you first. It’s a well-guarded secret, hidden in a deep, dark corner of your heart, that you sometimes wish Din had been first, that you sometimes lie awake, imagining his hands on you instead of Paz’s. And it’s a fact that Paz likes to tease both of you because of that.

Paz’s question is followed by a shift of his palm, by increased pressure against your clit. You bite your lip to contain a whimper.

“Paz …,” Din says, and it sounds like a warning. Or a plea.

“You know what to say,” Paz responds, and a shiver runs down your spine at the commanding tone in his voice.

Your eyes are glued to Din’s visor, a silent plea written all over your face. Say yes, say yes, say yes. But Din only has eyes for his brother, his rival, purposefully avoiding your gaze. And then he speaks.

“May I touch her, please?”

The strain in his voice does make you whimper this time. Paz hears it, and so does Din. A big hand is grabbing one of your breasts now, squeezing it, rolling your nipple. You find purchase between the table and Paz’s thigh, but you can already feel the sizzling edges of an orgasm making its way toward you with greedy hands. Din watches, shifts in his seat, adjusts himself in his pants. And somewhere, far away, a man shouts, a glass bursts.

“Go on, then,” Paz says, letting go of your breast to spread your thighs with a sure motion.

Here? is your first thought. The second, much louder one, is Fuck …! as Din stands up, shaking hands balled into fists at his side, a visible bulge in his dark pants.

Paz pushes you off his lap, pulls down your pants and underwear in one quick motion, then pulls you back toward his chest. He spreads you open with both hands, an offering for Din to do with as he pleases. Or maybe not quite. Because when Din gets to work on pulling his cock out of his pants, Paz snaps, “No. Get on your knees.”

Din stops, uncoils his fingers, then balls them into fists again, a quick succession of small movements. His shoulders tense as he looks at you, spread open for him, as he wonders if the price might be too high after all. You know him well enough to know he’s weighing getting to touch you against following Paz’s rules. He can’t have one without the other. You want to whisper his name, you want to call out for him, but one wrong move, one wrong word, and Paz is going to take this away from the both of you.

Din stills his hands eventually, presses the open palms against his thighs, and makes up his mind. You feel the ground shake as he falls to his knees in front of you, then raises his helmet to seek out your eyes. The visor is too dark for you to be able to tell what lies beyond it, and you wish you’d be allowed to see his face, his eyes, just once, but before you can even ask for something as ridiculous as that, your vision turns dark.

“Take off your helmet,” Paz commands as he ties a piece of dark fabric tightly over your eyes. You squirm as your heart begins to race, but Paz presses you tightly against his body. “Stay still,” he whispers into your ear. “We’re going to take care of you.”

You feel a pounding between your legs at the hissing sound you hear next. Your breathing is too hard, too shallow, but with your eyesight gone, you have to rely on your other senses. The shouts from behind the curtain are louder than before – you can make out individual voices, certain words and phrases – and you are keenly aware of the fact that any second now someone could burst into the room to see you spread open like this with a man kneeling between your legs while another one holds you down.

That doesn’t stop your chest from vibrating with a deep moan when Din tentatively licks across the wet heat between your thighs. The first stroke of his tongue is a relief, the second kindles something within you, the third one and all the others following are torture. Paz starts to massage your breast again and your head falls back against his chest, relying on him and Din to make sure you won’t slide to the floor. Din’s licks become faster, more eager, as he buries his face between your legs, drinking you down like he’s starving and the taste of you is the only thing that can save him. His hands find their way to your thighs and he digs his fingers into your soft skin, spreading you even further, licking deeper and deeper.

“Don’t touch her,” Paz growls.

Din squeezes your thighs, but lets go quickly. You miss his touch, but know better than to say something. Instead, you twine your legs around his shoulders, caging him in with your thighs. He moans against your clit, and you shiver, pressing yourself harder against his chin and tongue and nose. Then his hands are on the back of your thighs, massaging your ass, pressing you even closer as he starts to feast on you, barely coming up for air.

“I said don’t fucking touch her.” Paz pulls you off Din’s shoulders, away from him, and stands while dropping you onto his stool.

It’s pathetic, really, the way you whimper, “Please,” but neither man hears you. You just hear sounds, a whirr, the sound of Din’s angry grunts of protest, armor clanging against armor. And then Paz says, “That’ll teach you”.

He picks you up again and places you back on his lap, and then Din’s face is pushed against you. He grunts his surprise and you hiss at the sudden return of his tongue. You hear the sound of leather tightening, and then Din’s head moves as if he has been shoved. A second later, both of Paz’ hands are on your body again, while Din’s remain absent.

Your entire body hums with the sensation of Din licking into you, each stroke hungrier than the last, while Paz holds you against him, watches over you, makes sure you’re okay. Sometimes, there are orders, “Not too fast. More pressure. Take your time with her,” other times there are questions, “Do you like how wet she is for you? Do you see how her legs are shaking?” and sometimes there are encouragements, “Yes, that’s it. You’re doing so well. Beautiful.” You’re not quite sure who the recipient of those is.

You come once with a surprised shout, spilling down Din’s chin, and hear all the sounds become wetter. Din doesn’t stop though, and Paz doesn’t tell him to either, and when you try to squirm away, raw and overstimulated, Paz makes sure you stay in place. You come a second time, moaning and panting so loudly Paz clamps a hand over your mouth until all you can taste is leather. Even after you’ve stopped shaking, even when you can’t do anything but hang limply between their bodies, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your heart beating so fast it feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, blood rushing in your ears and pounding through your body, Paz still doesn’t let go, only says, “Another one.” Your feeble protest is lost between his thick fingers covered in hard leather.

You’re not sure you can come a third time, even though you can feel yourself flutter against Din’s tongue from time to time, even though there is an insistent throbbing there every time he sucks your clit into his mouth. Too weak to push him off, even if Paz would let you, all you can do is lie there and take it until they’re both satisfied. Paz squeezes your nipple again, but finally releases your jaw, and you breathe in deeply, gulp down air. The sweat running down from your brow mingles with a few stray tears pushing past the blindfold.

“Come on, girl, you can take it,” Paz whispers somewhere above you, and you nod, licking your dry lips.

The next thing you feel is Paz’s naked finger against your lips, tasting of Revnog. You lick it eagerly, tasting the sharp sting of the drink and the rich flavor of leather. As a reward, he grants you two fingers next, both coated in Revnog. As you suck them into your mouth, Din shifts between your legs, changing the angle slightly, and you’re pulled forward by a third orgasm, one that’s been building for a while now, one that catches you by surprise and refuses to let you go once it has you in its grasp. Your moans are choked by Paz’s fingers in your mouth; when you get too loud, he presses down against your tongue, making you choke. When you’re too quiet, he lessens his hold so he can hear you better.

Once you’re spent, ears ringing so loudly the sounds beyond the curtain seem muffled, far away, like you’re listening to them through a thick wall of water, Paz lifts you off his lap and places you on the stool where you slump, unable to keep yourself upright. A noise much closer to you, one that penetrates your exhausted mind, is the sound of Din trying to catch his breath, his shallow pants, his groans as he shifts on the floor in front of you. And finally, you can make out the hum of a vibroblade as Paz cuts him loose.

When Paz takes off your blindfold, he does it gently, careful not to touch you more than necessary. He strokes your cheek, his fingers cool and coarse against your heated skin. You blink a few times, waiting for your vision to become less blurry, and then look up at him hovering above you, taller than usual, his shoulders tense, his stance wide. You know what comes next.

Paz hands you his jug, lets you take a swig from it, then pulls you off that stool and pushes you against the table. You grunt as your chest hits the wood, try to push yourself up, but Paz pushes you back down, one hand sprawled across your back, kicking your legs apart with his foot.

“Hold her down,” he grunts.

When you look up, you see Din stand in front of you, his face already hidden behind his helmet again. The pang of disappointment you feel at that sight is quickly replaced by seething lust as he grabs both your wrists with one hand and holds them down against the wood. Between this and Paz’s hold on your hips, there is no chance of escape for you.

Behind you, the rustle of clothes cuts through the suddenly still atmosphere, laden with expectation. Then you feel Paz’s cock against your backside as he drags himself over your exposed skin before pushing into you with one quick stroke. You scream, nails digging into the wood – he’s so big, so heavy … you’re not sure you can take it. Paz gives you a moment to breathe, strokes down your back to calm you, even whispers, “Shhh,” (a hissing sound through the modulator). But then he pulls out and slams back into you so hard you see stars.

“Please,” you whimper, but he only tightens his hold on your hips.

You try to move but you can’t. Din, who feels you struggle against his hold, circles one of your wrists with his thumb in a soothing motion and you swallow hard as you try to relax. Paz’s palm lands against your bare ass with a slap and you’re being pushed forward, up the table. The sound you make is closer to pleasure than pain now.

“Do it, pretty boy,” Paz grunts between thrusts, and you glance back up at Din, watch as he pulls himself out of his pants, hope you don’t imagine the slight tremor in his hand. Your mouth turns painfully dry at the sight of his cock, completely hard, a dark red on the verge of becoming purple, its tip glistening invitingly. He begins to stroke himself fast, eyes fixed on you as he groans with relief, and you feel his hold on you become less hard.

Escape is now the last thing on your mind. You lick your lips eagerly as you imagine what it would feel like to have Din’s cock press against your tongue, spilling down your throat. And you hope Din has similar thoughts as he stares at you, chest heaving. Paz slaps you again. Then he closes his fingers around the back of your neck, pushing your head down. You push back against him in defiance, but he only slaps you a third time.

“You’re mine,” he growls.

Your fingers scrape against a bit of exposed skin on Din’s wrist.

“Come on, say it,” Paz orders, between three particularly vicious thrusts.

For a brief moment, you consider defying him, but there is something about the whimper you think you hear from Din’s direction that tells you he likes seeing you be used like this.

“I’m yours,” you give in.

“Good girl,” Paz praises. Then you feel a pressure between your cheeks, followed by a burning sensation as he pushes a finger past your muscles, taut with pleasure.

You don’t come, at least you don’t think you do, but you can feel yourself clench around Paz so hard his movements become erratic. Before you feel his hot release spilling into you, you hear Din hiss, “Fuck!” and feel him coat your bare arms, your cheeks, and the table beneath you in thick, white ropes.

While Paz fucks his seed into you with a few final, deep thrusts, you lick Din’s cum from the corner of your mouth, savoring its heady taste. And Din strokes your cheek, softly, like he’s savoring nothing more than this moment.

***

din djarin taglist: @0ni0nb0i | @1andthesame | @animehearteyes | @bangaveragewhitewine | @batdarkladyvampir | @chronic-nosebleed | @cjillian97 | @commalins | @daimyosprincess | @fireproofmarta | @kirsteng42 | @ladydjarin88 | @lexloon​ | @lovesbiggerthanpride​ | @mandalaur​ | @mandinlore​ | @n7cje​ | @nembees​ | @noctiscorvus | @pedropascalsx​ | @pentechnics | @pookipedia​ | @redcrvette​ | @rominaszh | @spacenerdpascal​ | @tae27​ | @thesmutslut​ | @tortor-mcgee​| @trickstersp8​ | @welcometoshiphell​

permanent taglist: @alexturner​ | @amneris21​ | @aurelacmoon | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed​ | @martellthemandalor​ | @nyfeeer | @nobodys-baby-now​ | @od-ends​ | @pedrorascal​ | @radiowallet-writes​

[kbagraces]

Curious Time - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Singer!reader

Multiple part series where their friendship was easy, their feelings were confusing and the distance was the hardest <3

(Third person perspective)

!!explicit content warning: 18+!!

PART 5 -

CONVINCED ME

“You convinced me that I can't know if I never try. Love me like you do, you make me feel so new.”

Lando knew she wasn't for him. He was sick of being alone, almost the entire paddock had girlfriends, people who didn't doubt their relationship, someone who'd fight for him like he would do for her.

Lacy was passing time and that time had passed. After the call with Pippa he was inconsolable, no tears left his eyes, that wasn't how he dealt with things. But he was almost mute, only answering yes or no to any questions asked. He left Saskia in his bed no goodbye or anything and got on his flight to Singapore. Arguably the hardest race of the season, the weather was draining when you were out of the car, the sickness he felt within the car was unmatched. Until now. This loneliness looming over him couldn't be topped he felt.

Press day looming, he wasn't in any state to speak to anyone, act with his teammate or interact with fans. He wanted none of it. He wanted to do the race. Then fly to y/n. His flight was booked, no one knew he couldn't risk them telling her and her running away or attempting to convince her otherwise. He needed her in anyway, he just needed her.

She was aware of how he was feeling, she over heard max and him on the phone when she was visiting P. She couldn't pull herself away from the conversation. She ruined her chance with him and now she's destroyed his relationship with Lacy. She felt awful.

She planned before the album dropped to have a break from social appearances and interviews as once November 4th hit they'd be non stop. But her time was consumed with worry, about her future, about his, about everything. Her needed rest was anything but that.

She kept updated with Lando at the Singapore Grand Prix with his performance last year ending up second, all eyes were on McLaren.

Qualifying was here, Lando was in the zone flying in Q1 and Q2. She hoped he was channeling everything to keep him going. Q3 wasn't awful ending up 6th place, not the best place to start on the street circuit but similarly not the worst.

One thing she loved about Lando was his ability to let go as soon as his helmet was on, she's glad that was a trait he could still channel following the recent turmoil she'd caused for him.

She believed she'd blown all chance. Contact was less the minimum, his name didn't even grace her instagram likes anymore. Total radio silence. And she was struggling, the girls would take her out, introduce her to their friends. But the same rule applied, they weren't him. And although she couldn't have him, she certainly didn't want anyone else.

P2! Again Lando finished P2 in the race of his life it looked like. She cheered, reaching for her phone, only to put it down right away. It's not your place anymore she told herself.

Lando was ecstatic, the first positive emotion he'd felt in weeks. Although he wanted to celebrate with the team, he wanted to get to her more. Rushing out of the paddock jumping in his car, not before throwing his hat to a group of young boys waiting for him, watching them fight over it in his rear view as he drove away.

He rested for a few hours once he got to London, hoping no pictures of him had reached her timeline. A few hours of sleep he caught up on, before heading to her. He prayed she was in, it'd be just his luck if she wasn't.

It was 8pm, she's ready for an early night. Make up removed, hair falling slightly messily over her shoulders and matching pyjamas set covering her figure.

Making a cup of tea before bed, she pottered in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boiled when a knock made her jump out of her skin as it echoed through her apartment.

The face appearing before her was the last person on earth she expected.

"Lando? What? Um, hi. What?" So startled sentence ran through her head but failed to reach her lips. She stepped aside for him to come in not saying anything else.

He looked tired but gorgeous as always, he too didn't say a word he just looked at her. She couldn't read his expression, maybe due to it being so long since she's seen him or because he wasn't sure what he was feeling himself.

!!!

He finally spoke, "don't say a word." He demanded, grabbing both sides of her face and pushing his body against hers so her back hit the door behind her. He kissed her softly but only for a second before it intensified. She was lost in the moment, her hands lifting up to get lost in his curls, pulling on them as he leaves her lips abandoned before he continues kissing and biting down her neck to her collarbones.

Her mind catches up with her, her voice small and out of breath from the kiss, "Lando. Lando! Wait." He stopped immediately, worried he'd taken it too far.

"Are you sure you want this? Are you just going to leave me tomorrow? You have every right to be angry but I don't want either if us to regret this." She's right, it'll be their first time sleeping together, hell that was their first time kissing each other more than just a peck.

He knew he wouldn't regret it, he was still upset. But he wouldn't regret it, he's wanted this for the last 2 years, he's needed this for the past 6 months.

"Y/n/n, it feels right doesnt it? Don't worry about tomorrow, do you want this now?" God she does her legs are already weak from the kiss, doing there best to relive some tension rubbing together.

No words necessary she attached her lips back to his all the confirmation he needed.

His hands slipped below her bare legs hoisting her up, she instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, moaning softly into his mouth as she feels him, hard, rubbing against her. He wanders straight into her bedroom, she praises herself for doing some decluttering earlier that day.

He rests her down on the bed, taking her in hair splayed out, "candles, huh? Were you expecting me?" He jokes. Humour right now is not appreciated by her as she leans up grabbing his hoodie pulling him on top of her.

He rest between her legs once more, arms beside her holding his weight above her. He pulls back from her kisses once more to which she groans in frustration.

"I don't think you're in the position to be demanding anything from me baby."

Baby

She's desperate for him and he's taking his sweet time. "Lando please." She whimpers trying to pull him down again, missing his lips against hers.

"Fuck say it again baby. Beg for me. Show me that you deserve it."

"Please. Please. I'll be good. Touch me, kiss me anything. Please"

He dives back down lips attacking her neck straight away, kissing, biting, marks being made down to her collarbones.

"Can I take this off?" He slides the strap off of her shoulder signalling he wants her naked infront of him.

She nods staring at him almost bewildered, she can't believe this is happening. She's hidden her feeling for so long and here he is undressing her after she believed she wouldn't see him again.

He pulls off her top shorts leaving her completely vulnerable in front of him.  Her nipples hard point at him, he's staring think, God she's beautiful. Not a single imperfection in his eyes. Her skin smooth to the touch, freckles delicately scattered over her body, her lips puffy, cheek flushed and marks from him littering her neck.

She notices him analysing her and instinctively goes to attempting to cover her bare body before him. Her arms wrap themselves around her chest, wondering if he likes what he sees or if he's changed his mind.

He grabs her wrists, holding them about her head with one of his large hands. "Don't." He says.

"Please don't hide yourself from me. You're perfect. You're mine and you're perfect." He kisses her once more wrists still pinned, she tries to fight it desperately wanting to touch him, get him out of his clothes and inside her. The more she resists the more he tightens.

"Lando. Do something please I'm begging you." She's throbbing at this point begging for his touch, desperate for it.

"Whatever you want, baby."

He removes his hoodie, she gapes at his body one she'd seen hundreds of times before but never it hovering over her, fuck.

He kisses from her neck down her chest, flicking her nipples with his tongue earning another moan from her. Taking them in her mouth biting and sucking gently as his hand travels down her stomach and between her legs. He'd never felt someone this desperate for him before. His slender fingers toy with her clit as her back arches from the contact, he inserts one finger, followed by another, his thumb now concentrating on her clit. She's moaning and writing at his touch.

He shuffles down her bed lips now attaching her clit, tongue swirling in circles whilst his fingers dance inside her.

"Lando. I'm so- don't- don't stop." Her body quivering beneath him his unoccupied arm laying across or stomach now to try and limit some movement.

Her body shakes as she reaches her highs, chanting his name louder and louder.

"Fuck." She exclaims.

"We're not done yet baby. You going to let me take care of you again?" His fingers finding the drawstring of his joggers pulling them off completely.

"Let me do something for you Lan, please" she looks at him through hooded eyes, looking exhausted already.

"No baby it's all about you right now." He removes the cloth of his boxers, setting her knees up beside him as she lays on her back.

"You ready baby? Can you take it?"

"I need it. Please I need to feel you." She cries out, he taps his tip on her now extremely sensitive clit before allowing himself to sink into her.

"Fuck" he whispers, she's gripped around him in a perfect fit. She was perfect for him.

Thrusting deeper and deeper, as she chants his name gripping onto any part she can. His arms are tattooed with the marks of her nails raking down them as she reaches her second high of the night, it hitting her hard.

Lando slows the rhythm as she begs him to be gentle clearing becoming overwhelmed and overstimulated. "You going to let me cum inside you baby? Can I fill you up?"

"Daddy please. Please"

Daddy. That finished it for him, hoping he could go a bit longer but once that word left her lips he was done for. He swears that's the most intense it's felt.

He gently removes himself from her, entering her en suite, grabbing the first towel he sees. Re entering her room she's propped herself up on her elbows, looking for him as if he's disappeared, slightly delirious. He wipes off what's leaked from her. Urging her to move up under the covers.

"Thank you for coming Lan." She sighs, wrapped in his arms, she's deeply missed being his little spoon. "I don't know what changed your mind. But thank you for being here."

"I'm glad I'm here but I don't want to talk about that right now. Just want to enjoy you and that great sex we had." He smirks into her shoulder, avoiding the dressing topic they'd both have to face at some point.

"Hmm I'd give it a 3/10." She mocks, knowing that's a complete lie.

"That's why you were screaming daddy at me right, baby? Where did that come from?" His smile getting wider and cockier at the minute.

"Please don't. It's your fault anyway.”

If that's his fault, he'd love to be to blame all day everyday. She's finally back in his arms and for now he's enjoying this ignorant bliss.

Masterlist

[captain-mj]

I bring you the bones of my friends that are uneducated on lgbtq+ matters for

PrinceGraves x leader of Royal guard Price

Graves is ruling temporarily while the King is away on diplomatic matters and he drives the court insane. He's cocky, talks over advisors and thinks he can doe everything better.

After 3 days Price is so fed up with the spoiled Prince so he fucks him on the throne and tell him to behave.

Here ya go!! Btw, in case it's not explicit enough, Graves is very capable, he was just playing Price to get a reaction. It's not really paid much attention, we all know why we're here

Price watched the Prince speak and tried not to chew his own sword.

The worst part was Graves had good points occasionally, but he didn't listen and he always questioned everything. He didn't trust any of them and made that clear.

Price bit his tongue as Graves once again questioned one of the King's most trusted advisor.

"How are you sure of this? Where are your sources?" Graves looked right at Price as he spoke, a small grin on his face. He had asked that four times. In this meeting.

"Are you sure we should do that? I heard that those are flimsy..."

Price got up and left, going to the throne room. God that little brat pissed him off. As the leader of the royal guard, he knew he needed to keep on good terms with him. One day, Graves could be his boss.

God, he hoped not.

Price took off his helmet and ran his hands through his hair. Didn't help that he was so hot. Walking around barely dressed most of the time. Wearing sheer clothing and letting everyone just drool over him. When his father was here, he never acted like this!! What was his deal?

"John." Graves interrupted his thoughts. He only had some loose pants and his crown on. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, your majesty." Price glared at him but Graves did not seem moved.

After a few minutes, Graves tilted his head. "You know, it's polite to ask someone how they're doing back. I know you're a Captain, but that's not an excuse for bad manners."

Price gritted his teeth before drawing his sword and put it to his throat. He didn't have words. Three fucking days of this.

Graves blushed and looked up at him. "John. Remember your place. Kill me and the King will have your head. Relationship or not."

Price got closer. "I wouldn't kill you, Graves."

Graves looked intrigued. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Make you shut up." Price threw the sword to the side and grabbed him, placing him on his back on the throne. He pulled down his pants.

"Wait! The doors!!"

"Let them walk in." Price snapped at him. "Maybe it'll teach you manners. Get too loud and someone will come in."

Graves blushed and looked away, grabbing the throne. "Fine. I give you permission."

Price shoved Graves's knees to his chest and shoved a finger into his hole roughly. He spit onto his finger and shoved it in deeper. Graves started to thrash and eventually tapped him insistently. "Wait, there's oil. Please you're being too rough with me!"

Price grumbled, but he did it. He wanted to hurt the Prince but... not that bad. Tearing him seemed excessive.

Now that he had the oil, he forced his fingers back in, watching Graves tense to try to stop himself from moving. He groaned as Price slid a second one in, making him pant softly as he tried to keep quiet.

"Can't get through one meeting without you complaining about how long its taking or how many people are there or how you want to be doing anything else." He thrust his fingers in hard over and over again, needing him well stretched.

Graves whimpered and twisted, clearly not used to such rough treatment. "What else?"

Price frowned and got a third one in, groaning at how tight the fit was. "What else what?"

"What else do I do wrong?" He pushed back against him, biting his lip. His face twisted in pleasure and pain.

"You keep questioning me! I'm the Captain of the Royal Guard for a reason! You're such a royal brat." Price forced another finger in him and Graves's back arched.

"I'm sorry, sir." Graves panted out, putting his hands under his knees so Price didn't have to keep holding him. He threw his head back and rocked against him desperately. "So good, please."

"Shut up." Price forced his fingers in deeper. "So tight. So fucking tight. Shit."

Graves closed his eyes and looked away. Once Price was sure he was open enough, he picked Graves up. He then put him on the floor and sat in the throne himself, the great crowned prince looking up at him from his knees.

Price buried his hand in Graves's hair and pulled him to his cock, watching Graves's eyes widen. He tilted his head before running his tongues along one of the veins, grinning when Price groaned.

"Good boy. Finally putting that mouth of yours to good use."

Graves went to retort and Price yanked him down on his cock, making him gag. He held him there for a moment, feeling his cock convulse around him for a moment before letting go so Graves could pull back. He took a deep breath and then immediately went back down on him, swallowing. Price groaned and relaxed, letting Graves work on him.

"You seem happier on your knees. Like you wanted me to do this."

Graves looked up at him through his lashes, swallowing hard.

"You fucking brat." Price yanked him closer, making his eyes fill with tears. He swallowed and used his tongue, clearly trying to please him. "You're not going to be able to walk until the fucking King comes back."

Graves hummed in response and bobbed his head enthusiastically. Price pulled him off and he made a wounded noise.

"Yeah, Yeah. Get up here."

Graves did as told, grabbing Price's shoulders as he picked him up. He slid him down on his cock and enjoyed the little whimpers it got. One of his hands fit around Graves's throat and the other around his waist. He thrust up into Graves, watching his eyes roll back.

Price enjoyed him like a toy. Graves scrambled for a hold as he was slammed into mercilessly, hiding his face out of shame.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

Price turned him around so he couldn't, hands going under his knees to keep his legs spread apart. If anyone came in, they'd see Graves's face and the way his body took Price like a whore.

"Sir, please."

"Your voice is pretty when you're begging." He moved Graves instead of himself, making him bounce up and down. The new angle must've felt nice because he was a mess in Price's arms, tears streaming down his face.

Graves twisted his head to kiss his cheek. "So mean to me."

Price growled. "You like it."

Graves blushed and shuddered. "I like when you growl."

Price yanked him closer and kissed him, hammering into him now. Graves grasped him as hard as he could and Price could feel his legs shaking.

"Don't finish until I do."

"You fucking bastard." Graves huffed. "Hard to do that when you're fucking me like this."

"Try harder." Price smiled and forced his legs further apart.

Graves held on to him, painfully hard. He was clearly trying his hardest though and Price could appreciate that.

Price reached around and stroked him, feeling him tremble. "No, please, I won't last." He kept stroking Graves anyway.

Graves did not last. He came all over himself with a groan and his head fell back. He panted softly as Price fucked him through it. Price came in him and patted his thigh.

Slowly, he pulled out of him and set his Prince on the throne. "You look gorgeous." He didn't fix his pants, but he did fix his crown, looking at the cum running down his legs. "Act right in the next couple of meetings and I'll do this again."

"Don't you mean don't do this again?"

"Darling, we both know you wanted this."

Graves bit his lip. "Alright, yes sir."

[theemporium]

https://www.tumblr.com/theemporium/744075840826015744/new-pairing-alert-ok-so-this-came-into-my-head?source=share

nicojack x coach!reader cont.

because do you know how funny it would be for jack to be sitting there, already crushing massively on his captain and desperately trying to keep it hidden so it doesn't fuck with the team chemistry. and oh fuck, now their new coach is hot too! why does he keep falling in love with his superiors!

and just imagine that nico and jack figure out their feelings for eachother first and she's happy for them but now it's solidified in her head that she will never be able to act on her feelings for one let alone both of them because she doesnt want to ruin nicojack's relationship. and there's this subtle rift in between the three not only how it relates to the team but in general, and the boys can't really put their finger on it.

and slowly but surely she's pulling away from them and putting up more of a professional wall between her and them. and it all comes to a head because she's refusing to hang out just the three of them because she's their coach, when a few months ago she would have been agreeing in an instant.

and they wont leave her alone until she gives them a valid reason on why she's been so distant with the two of them when she can interact with the rest of the team just fine. and she blurts out in frustration that she's in love with both of them.

her lowkey adopting some of the younger boys and guiding them instead of letting them kinda scamper about like l*ndy did?

just imagine her looking at luke one time and instantly going "this one is mine" and mother hens him from day one.

new thots

what if after she announces her retirement mrs. ellen hughes reaches out expressing her grief because she was an avid fan, fitting reader's games in whilst also keeping track and watching her sons games

and they become friends who message once and a while and get coffee with each other when they are both in the same area

im thinking her age being 1-2 years older than nico

she got gifted these clips in red at her first game and absolutely adores them: https://www.etsy.com/listing/720551725/small-demon-horns-cute-gothic-devil?click_key=abbeeab68ff6bfcfdafcb77ef8fbfc6e4933215e%3A720551725&click_sum=a0db3b04&ref=user_profile&bes=1

owns these earrings and wears them to a good amount of games: https://www.etsy.com/listing/1351736943/new-jersey-devils-red-and-black-crystal?click_key=9821cc430986fa847ecd522b02d7b5e00dcb5994%3A1351736943&click_sum=135f240a&ref=user_profile&cns=1&sts=1

wears either black or red lipstick on game days, those are the only two options i wont be taking critiques on this thot tyvm

imagine the twitter girlies losing their shit the first time she wears the black lipstick to a game with a red suit

in a similar vein i think she is a winged eyeliner girly

imagine her defending her boys with her full chest when the ref makes an unfair ruling against her team. are you kidding me she would die for these boys.

loves a good team dinner, and makes an unofficial tradition that at least twice a month they have to either go out or someone has to host team dinner

☕

OKAY BUT SHE WOULD ADOPT ALL THE YOUNGER BOYS

like she takes luke and nemec and holtz and she just puts them in her pocket because those are her boys🥹and i just imagine they have this fondness with her where they feel like they can actually talk to her, you know?

like that interview from isaac where he was freaking out about where to park and sit and everything? the reader would be the one to reassure him and she meets up with him early so he can settle down and feel comfortable

and just imagining the team with her after a win? like they just CROWD her in a hug and maybe they just kinda line up and she playfully but affectionately knocks their helmets the way they always do to each other and it's just so🥹

and now i am just sobbing over the found family-ness of it all😭

and don't even get me started on the family skate days where nico and jack are fucking menaces with her and they are basically chasing each other around the rink and dodging other families

and imagine her skating with both their families🥹her just yapping away to ellen and nina when one of the boys comes up behind her to put a beanie on her head to make sure she doesn't get too cold and it's so so so soft

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Mando, Bo-Katan and Other Things

Spoilers for The Mandalorian Season 3

The S3 premiere has left me with some thoughts so I'm gonna write them down here because I haven't done a Mando analysis in a while!

Going into this season, one of the key questions is whether or not Din will realise that the ability to identify as Mandalorian does not hinge entirely on whether or not you hide your face. Now I've seen different opinions on whether or not Din should ditch "The Way" ranging from him choosing to keep the helmet on all the time again to him just taking it off whenever.

Personally, I kind of fall somewhere in the middle. Taking the helmet off is something that is obviously very uncomfortable for Din and while I could definitely see him coming to terms with that rule not being something he has to stick to so rigidly, I don't think that that would mean he could automatically resort to taking it off without any issues. The creed was something that he was willing to put above his own life, so it's not going to be easy for him to move away from that. But then there's the matter of Grogu: the one thing that Din put above the creed itself. In my opinion, I think a good balance would be him taking the helmet off around Grogu and around Grogu only. I could maybe see it evolving past that, but for now, I feel like that would be a suitable solution for him.

But let's go into a little more detail about some things.

Din and Grogu

The boys are reunited! And with that comes some interesting avenues for how their relationship will evolve. Something I have said in the past is that throughout S1 and 2, while he is clearly showing a much more vulnerable and protective side around Grogu, it always felt as if Din was still trying to keep some semblance of a wall up between him and the child. We never see Din actually refer to the kid as his own in any way and I think part of that may be Din trying to stop himself from becoming too attached. Now obviously that didn't work, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was partly due to him knowing that he would have to let the kid go.

Din has lost his family, and so has Grogu, so they both know the pain of saying goodbye. Din also knows that he is going to have to give the kid to a Jedi at some point, so if he can try and put up a wall between them, then maybe that goodbye won't be so painful for either of them. At the end of the day, that didn't work because both of them are going to risk everything for one another, but I'm interested to see if this shifts slightly going into this season.

Grogu chose to go back to Din, meaning that Din now knows that that is where he wants to be. And I hope that this means we'll see Din becoming much more open around him. He doesn't have a mission to take him anywhere anymore, so he can just spend more time with him as father and son. We do already see a little bit of that in Chapter 17 when Din is showing Grogu the ship controls (my heart melted). He's teaching Grogu what it means to be a Mandalorian and what it's like the lead the life that Din does. Knowing that he doesn't have to give him up means that Din can open Grogu up more to his own life because this is (hopefully) how he'll be spending it from now on.

But let's tie this back to the helmet thing. Will Din choose to give up the ways of the creed if it means being able to show Grogu his face?

I think it's definitely possible, but it is going to create a lot of internal conflict for Din. Din wants to show Grogu his face, he wants to get rid of the physical barrier that is between them, but doing that would mean surrendering his connection to the creed. Yes, I mentioned earlier that Grogu is the one thing that Din has ever put above the creed itself, but this isn't just about a choice between Grogu and the Covert, it's a choice between Grogu and Din's own identity as a Mandalorian. Din took his helmet off once to save Grogu and once to say goodbye because he couldn't truly know that he would see him again. A split decision in a moment of high emotions is not the same as asking someone to give up their entire identity for the rest of their lives.

As the audience, we know that the helmet rule is kind of stupid. Of course Din can be a Mandalorian while taking his helmet off! But it isn't like that for him. He was raised to believe that the only "Way" was the Way of the Mandalore. He's been indoctrinated into this belief that showing your face means giving up your identity. And for someone like Din, who has spent the majority of his life sticking rigidly to those rules, letting them go is not going to be a simple decision. It means unlearning so much of what he's been told and going against everything he believes in. For him, this is still the only Way.

Which leads me onto my next point.

Bo-Katan

We only see Bo-Katan for a short time at the end of the episode but something she says here actually links to something The Armourer once said, which actually links to the helmet thing. Look at everything connecting!

Bo-Katan reveals that her people left once they knew that she didn't return with the Darksaber. Her entire group has collapsed because of what they believe (that only someone wielding the blade is a worthy leader). But let's think about this from the perspectives of Din and the Covert.

The Armourer once said that the ones who survived the Purge were the ones who followed the Way of the Mandalore, suggesting that they survived because they were the elite. They are the true Mandalorians and that is why they had survived for so long. And yes, they haven't been thriving the entire time, but look at them now. At the beginning of the episode they are in the process of recruiting a new foundling: their forces are growing! And then on the flip-side, you have Bo-Katan and her forces, aka the people that the Covert don't consider as true Mandalorians. And they're failing. Their group has collapsed. For someone like Din, who is trying to navigate his identity and what it means to be a Mandalorian, being told that the Way of the Mandalore is the only Way and then seeing the "other-side" falling apart probably reinforces his belief that he needs to be redeemed. He needs to follow the only way. And the audience know that Bo-Katan's forces dispersing has nothing to do with the helmet thing, but to Din it's evidence that they aren't true Mandalorians.

And I think it's interesting that the downfall of Bo-Katan and her people is due to their inability to let rigid beliefs go. Her people left because she didn't have the Darksaber; they didn't see her as a worthy leader. But that rule is almost as ridiculous to the audience as the idea that you can't be a true Mandalorian if you show your face. Yes, the person who wields the Darksaber has to be "worthy", but someone not having the blade does not make them a bad leader. They claim that without the saber, then they can't be a competent leader at which point, they're not following the leader, they are following the Darksaber itself (which then begs the question of why the person wielding it really matters).

Concluding Thoughts

Overall, I'm very excited to see where this season is going to go and how Din's relationship to the creed, and to Grogu, shifts. He wants to show his face to the child, but that means turning back on the way of life he's been leading this whole time. And is that a good thing? Maybe evolution is the best thing, even if it means giving up on the rules that you so rigidly live by.

I think Alex at Star Wars Explained over on YouTube put this really well. He said that we're seeing some interesting parallels between those who are choosing to evolve and those who are sticking to the one thing that they know. Nevarro is prospering because the people chose to turn away from their life of crime. The pirates wanted things to be the way that they were and they lost the fight. Bo-Katan and her people are stuck following the way that they know and because of that, their group collapsed. The Covert are following the rules that they believe to be right and while they are under the impression that they are doing well, they had to be rescued from the creature by Din, the one who has evolved (or is in the process of trying to find his way). I think it's an interesting narrative and I would definitely check out the Star Wars Explained Chapter 17 review because the video explained this better than I did.

Din's growth is going to be an interesting thing to watch and I hope that Bo-Katan gets a deserving character arc as well. I'd be lying if I said I knew where this season is going but I believe that it'll be an interesting look into what it means to stick so rigidly to a particular way and how that can affect your life, for worse or for better.

Random Thoughts

Now that the longer, waffly, slightly more insightful bit is done, here are some random thoughts about the episode that don't really fit anywhere else but I feel like sharing.

I love that we get to see a new foundling being recruited at the beginning of the episode. At first I though that it might have been Din but even though it isn't, I think it is something to reflect on. We're watching a child make a commitment that will affect them for the rest of their lives. While it may seem like the right thing for them to do now, what happens if they get further down the line and realise that there is more to the world and being a Mandalorian than the Way of the Mandalore? I mean look at Din; he made the same decision that this child did and now he's stuck in an internal battle about his own identity.

Do you think that Grogu is aware of what exactly is going on with Din and the creed? Because he's over 50 years old, but he's also still a young child. I definitely think he's aware of the fact that Din is struggling and that the creed is why (look at the puppy eyes he gives The Armourer) but do you think he knows the full extent of what's going on? Does he feel guilty that Din is going through this struggle because he chose to associate with Grogu? Does he think that maybe it would've been easier for Din if he has stayed with Luke? What is the poor child thinking???

Din sitting all hunched up in the Anzellan's store is hilarious and it's a crime that they didn't show us him having to crawl in there.

Were the Mandalorians aware that there was, as the descriptive captions called it, a dinosaur turtle in the lake before they started the ceremony? You'd think they'd check to make sure that there weren't any man-eating monsters in there before they started. Has this happened before? Did they know that this had a chance of happening??? Feels like maybe they should've looked into that.

The droids holding Greef's cape are adorable and we need more of them.

Ngl, the way they explained where Cara Dune went is hilarious to me. She got explained away in one sentence. I love it.

[silly-inky]

My princess Daisy headcanon's

(the first time I posted this, it was accidental and on private, it wouldn't let me edit it so I had to remake it in soerate parts for your ease) anyways..

༺Daisy༻🌅

So Daisy is the shortest out of all of them canonically (which I normally keep in mind) Daisy being 5’11, Peach being 6’0 and Rosalina coming in a giant 7’3. She doesn’t mind being the shortest one, she is often taller than most of the other people in her life anyways.

But when she’s at royal gatherings or meetings, she always wears shoes that make her even taller, so that she’s at least the same height as Peach, since they all wear heals anyways. It’s a bit annoying at times, so she always has a pair of slip ons hidden away just in case.

Daisy isn’t a dumb person, she is actually very intelligent when she wants to be, but her act first, think later attitude sometimes gets in the way of that. She is really interested in paleontology, history and cartography. Which means she travels a lot, this also gives her chances to build relationships with other kingdoms, and pick up some pretty awesome gifts for her friends.

Because of all this travelling she gets most of her royal duties out of the way so, she always finds herself with a lot of free time to enjoy other activities like sports, hanging out with her friends or her girlfriend Rosalina, or simply enjoying the sun.

Daisy’s Parents are still alive and ruling, she has a particularly close relationship with her father, he isn’t seen much outside of his own kingdom anymore so he loves that Daisy is able to not only travel for him, but enjoy herself while doing so. I imagine that he was always busy, so he didn’t get to spend much personal time with her when she was younger, which he deeply regrets, but she’s always been a strong determined person, he thinks she gets it from her mother, so it didn’t effect her too badly, but he still wishes he was more present while she was younger, he missed out on so much and he can never get those Years back. Because of that Daisy always takes pictures on her adventures and events she goes to, just so her dad can still experience her memories with her.

He try’s to spend more time with her now, as they have more time to, which she never turns down. In fact they’ve found that they both enjoy racing, so on a rare full day off, they will go on the dunes with buggy’s and see which one can drive faster.

This gives the Queen serious anxiety, so they have to at least wear helmets and crash gear, she’s all for having fun but watching her husband and daughter topple around a few times in their buggies like that? Yeah.. I don’t blame her.

She loves Rosalina to bits, so whenever she comes to visit, she clears her schedule so she can spend the most time with them as physically possible. When she first tried asking her out, Luigi was hyping her up, giving her tips and advice, so when he heard Rosalina said yes to a date, he ran up to Daisy and spun her around in hug!

He was so happy for them, and Daisy who was as equally excited, almost crushed the poor man in a massive squeeze/ Bear hug. She was still nervous that she would mess something up though on her date, so Luigi and Peach helped out with everything, from the location, to the outfit and the gift. In the end they enjoyed themselves, that’s all that matters.

When she told her father about the date she went on, he couldn’t help but feel a great big smile make its way onto his face, he was even happier to learn he and his daughter had the same taste in women. Tall. He being a generous 5’5, while his wife, Daisy’s mother, was 6’3.

When Daisy's father first met Rosalina, he could see the love in his daughters eyes, and how she smiled around Rosalin. He knew she must have truly been something to be able to win over his daughters heart like that.

Daisy had a bit of a hard time coming out as Bi, she wasn’t worried about her dad, he would actually be somewhat relieved he wouldn't have to worry about Boy troubles (he kind of mistook what Bi meant, he thought she was a full on Lesbian). It was her mother however she was worried about. So when she finally did, she got a less than pleasing reaction, the Queen wasn’t exactly thrilled at first, she didn’t talk to Daisy for 2 days. Which broke the King, he begged her to please say something to Daisy, he knew how much this hurt her. As strong as Daisy was, her parents opinions still mattered to her.

So when she did finally start taking to Daisy again, she came at it with a fresh pair of eyes, she has since warmed up to the idea, largely due to the help from her husband. But what finally did it for her was seeing how her daughter and Rosalina interacted, how.. happy she was.

She had never seen her daughter smile so genuinely like that, it wasn’t out of charisma, or her general cheeriness, it was out of her pure, unrivalled love she got from simply looking at Rosalina.

She turned to her husband and with a knowing look, and approached the two women, putting her hand on her daughters shoulder, she said 4 simple words, but that’s all that Daisy needed. “I like this one”.

Daisy broke down and couldn’t stop hugging her mother, she was just so happy that her mother approved. Afterwards the Queen took Rosalina’s hands in her own, looked into her eyes, simply nodded, and left, she is a women a few words after all.

Luigi and Daisy are best friends, they did date for a bit back In the earlier days, but found that they preferred to keep it a friendship. Luigi is Daisy’s favourite person in the whole world, they talk every day wether on the phone or in person, they partner up at as many events as possible, and just work very well together.

Daisy loves to work out and train, so she will always do it with Luigi, he is not a weak person but he always compares himself to others which isn’t the best habit to have. She will always be analysing new love interests of Luigi’s and will silently analyse them to see if they would be good for him or not, she never gets in the way unless necessary, as it is Luigi’s choice in the matter who would and wouldn’t be.

She will help them out though if she likes them, so like little hints on what he likes, or how to approach him, that sort of stuff. They will talk about anything and everything, they know almost everything about the other, it’s safe to say that they would trust the other with their life.

Her and Mario get along fine, altough they don't hang out as much as they would with some of their other friends, they don't hate each other's company. They have a similar sense of humour sow whenever they are together they are always cracking jokes.

They are also the support team for Luigi, Rosalina, Peach and whoever needs their charaisma and cheers. They are very competitive in sports so they will always make it their primary mission to see who gets closer to winning between the two. When one of them gets kicked out and sees the other is still in the game kicking ass they will cheer for the other.

Her and Peach have been the best of friends since childhood, and even now they are sisters-in-arms. Daisy always insists on helping out when Peach is kidnapped, she knows Mario and Luigi can handle it, but she wants to be their to help and comfort her friend at the very least, and may or may not wants to punch Bowser in the balls repeatedly.

She doesn’t hate Bowser but desperately wants to drag him too a good therapist, she does admit that she has a small soft spot for his gremlin kids, they remind her of herself when she was that age. She wouldn't admit it but she is especially close with Lemmy and Roy, she loves them to death.

__________________________________________

Princess Peach coming soon...

[orion-mp5]

Pokemon Nuzlocke

Day two! Reminder of what the rules are: I can only use female marked pokemon (My starter is the exception, though she is still a girl), to decide what I get, I google a list of pokemon in an area and use a number generator to pick what I have to pick.

I currently have three pokemon and zero badges, and not yet done with the intro. Let's jump right in!

--------Day Two-1/27/24---------

I head towards the school and spot some weirdos in helmets harassing a girl to join their group despite the fact she's said no, more than once, and I step in to give them a taste of their own medicine.

They mention they're members of Team Star, something Debby warned me about, I decide to use Spider Lily (My starter Sprigatito) to wipe the floor with the girl. Nemona pops up and assumes I'm the one who picked the fight, not wrong but ouch, but once she realizes I was standing up to them and that they were team star she gives me a terra orb and I use it to wipe the floor with the boy.

After that Nemona drags me into the school and tells me some of the basics of the building, and the director comes over to ask about our commute. I tell him we had a blast and Nemona tells him about the team star members that were bothering a student, which he mentions rarely goes to class.

I head to my own homeroom and introduce myself. I get asked what my favorite thing about pokemon is, after thinking for a moment, I answer playing with my pokemon. Then, Nemona asks me what I want to do. I.... don't know. My parents sent me here, I didn't have much of a choice, and my sister hates pokemon, so I've never went out of my way to figure out what I actually wanted to do with them...

"I don't actually know..."

Nemona smiles as I say this. "Fair, I get it! The possibilities are endless, right? Who can decide!"

After class I go to the staff room to find Nemona and I see her talking to a woman I've never seen before. I go to Nemona after they end their conversation. "Who was that?" "Piqued your interest, huh? That lady is... Well, they call her La Primera!"

La Primera? Hm.... I think I remember reading about her after I was told I would be sent her. Don't remember what it said though...

"You should try to reach Champion Rank like me!"

I snap back to reality, taking a second to process the suggestion. "I don't know..."

"Aw, but talent like yours deserves to be used! Hear me out... The trainers who reach Champion Rank are the ones who raise their Pokemon really strong. They're pro-tier battlers. Their moves keep crowds absolutely on the edge of their seats! You have to prove yourself to the Pokemon League to officially get the title of Champion."

My mind starts to wander as she speaks. That sounds rather fun... Would it be worth it? Now that I think about it... Mom and Dad wanted me to build a positive relationship with Pokemon...

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Perfect! Here, let me put the locations of the gyms on your phone map! Now that that's delt with, It's your lunch period, you should get going! See you!" She runs off, leaving me in the staff room, and I head to the Cafeteria.

I see Arven standing at the food bar, and I decide to walk over and say hi. He turns to me and smiles.

"Oh, hey. So we meet again! You remember me, right?"

"I wouldn't have come over to say hi if I didn't, haha!"

"Heh, fair. Your name was Orion, right?"

"Yep! How'd you know?"

"Whole school seems to be talking about you. The new kid who showed up with the president of the student council." That's not that big of a deal though... Eh. No harm no foul.

"I normally don't bother showing up for class, but I came all the way to school today just to talk with you-our new celebrity."

I chuckle a little as he says this. "Celebrity is a strong word. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I want you to help me make my dream a reality, If you want to." I notice he looks nervous as he asks me... He seems... Desperate.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Straight to the point, huh? For context, I love to cook, and I read a book talking about recipes that can heal pokemon and make them feel better. It talks about something called Herba Mystica, special herbs that heals pokemon as soon as it's eaten! There are five types based on what i've read, and they're only found in Paldea-and rare to boot! But the book says they're guarded by Titan Pokemon, meaning it'll be pretty tough to even grab a few sprigs. What I need you to do is help me fight them, and get the Herba Mystica."

I think about it for a second. A rare herb that heals pokemon? Maybe I could send a sample to my parents so they could do some testing on it, and maybe my mom could try to make a garden with it and use it in her restaurant... And if Arven is desperate to ask a stranger to help....

"If I can have a small sample of the herbs to send home, I'll help with no strings attached."

"Wait-I want you to think it over first! Here, let me mark the locations on your map app if you do end up agreeing after thinking it over some more. Here, take this as a prize for listening." He hands me a bag of Stardust, surprising me a little. He then runs off yelling to me over his shoulder.

"Give it some thought! Please!"

I chuckle to myself as I watch him leave. I have a feeling we're gonna be really good friends.

After I eat my lunch I go to leave the Cafeteria, before my phone starts to go crazy, answering a call by itself.

"...This is Orion, correct? I hacked your smartphone so I could talk to you. Hope you don't mind."

I growl under my breath, obviously unhappy to have my phone hacked, who wouldn't?

"Make it quick before I report this, Who are you?"

"Very well. My name is Cassiopeia. And I hear you're a trainer with serious potential. If that description is accurate, there's something I'd like to ask of you. Tell me, Orion... You know about Team Star, right?"

"Something tells me you already know the answer to that question, Cassiopeia."

"That would be correct. To not test your already short patience, I've come up with a plan to take them down and force the to disbaned for good. I call it...Operation Starfall! And I want you to be apart of it.

"I'll think it over, but I'm not making any promises."

"That's fine by me." With that the call ends. The idea someone hacked my phone fills me with anxiety. The director suddenly walks up to me.

"Ah, Miss Orion. Please do try to keep your voice down if you're making calls within the school, won't you?" My face flushes red with embarasment, I didn't realize I was being so loud.

"Of course, sir..."

"You don't want anyone else to over hearing any personal information, after all. Honestly... There are so many things we need to be careful about in this day and age. On you go, then, young lady." I nod, before rushing off to class. Too much has happened in one day already, and I don't want to add being tardy to that list.

-----

Later in the day I'm walking in the main hall, looking for a specific book when I hear the speakers turn on, asking me to go to the Directors office. I do so begrudgingly, expecting to have done something wrong, but in reality, Professor Sada wanted to have a video chat with me, asking me to take care of Dr.Pepper(the Koraidon).

I obviously say yes and then Nemona barges in and drags me towards my new dorm, where I spend the next few months, and before long, it's time for the annual treasure hunt.

I head towards the center of Messagoza, Nemona and Arven arguing about who I'm going to help. Cassiopeia hacks my phone again to mark Team Star locations on my Map App, and tells them I can do what ever I want which gets them to stop fighting.

Dr.Pepper lets me ride them and the intro to the game has officially ended.

I go through the west gate and open up the list of pokemon in the area and roll the dice, getting..... Smoliv! Bit of a set back with already having a grass type, but I've never gotten one, so it should be fun!

I'll end it here for today, thank you for reading this far. Have a lovely day, until the next day~!

-Orion.MP5

[djarinterstellar]

Kiss It Better

Summary: After narrowly escaping a dicey mission-gone-wrong, Din quickly realizes the byproduct of his consequences have followed him onboard the Crest, in the worst, most personal way.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

—

—

Tags/Warnings: now from the top (make it drop), we got some Possessed!Din + canon typical violence, bloodshed, physical injury and some (sloppy) Force usage in the beginning. Reader is Force-Sensitive💫 (not a Jedi). there was an attempt™️ at touching on Witchcraft. Possessed!Din will get violent with Reader against his will ☹️ but we’ll get extra-soft!Din to make up for it. Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, eventual SMUT. Oral Sex, Fingering (fem receiving), Unprotected PinV, the Helmet Comes Off Tonight. No use of Y/N, this is 3rd person POV so Reader will be “she/her”. Established relationship from a universe i’m working on lmao. Takes place sometime mid-season 2.

Rating: M, 18+ only!

Word Count: About 9.3k lmao

A/N: While studying for my notary exam, I was tortured by this mini emo scenario that I had to write down and what started as a prompt escalated into a week of me pouring myself into this. 😭 That being said, I apologize for nothing—

Also a super quick shout out and thank you to @generoustimemachineconnoisseur for beta-reading and giving me the motivation I needed to post this! 💓💓

• cyar = love

✪ ✪ ✪

This was a mistake.

Grogu was peeking out from her tote bag and was clutched to her chest as she dashed through the endless myriad of tunnels, eyes frantic and pupils blown wide open as she searched into the darkness.

“Din! Din!” she hissed desperately.

She should’ve gone instead. He should’ve stayed with the kid. This was her idea to begin with after all.

Din didn’t ask to land knee-keep in the darkened swamp forests of Mimban. She was the one who was following up on the rumors of this particular forest. Whispers of a powerful Force wielder that hid out in the underground caves. She wasn’t a Jedi, nor a Sith— but rather, a witch. A (no pun intended) force of her own to be reckoned with. Sure, it was an unconventional route for her to follow, unorthodox even. And Din had even said it to her in the cockpit. But she was allegedly one of the very few true witches left in the galaxies, and it was her own idea to track her down in hopes of not only possibly being pointed in the direction of a Jedi, but also understanding how to use and access the Force from alternative methods, ones that didn’t require training to become a good wizard or a bad wizard.

As luck would have it, Uma was a witch. There was just one small problem. She just so happened to dabble with forces of the.. darker nature; the same shit that the Sith used to harness their own powers. Which meant Uma was basically cut from the same cloth as the (ex) Emperor and the forces that ruled the Empire.

Then, when Uma saw the baby, her very being shifted almost entirely. The witch had picked up on Grogu’s power almost instantly, the type of raw and untapped energy that could only come from a child so young and pure. Uma had decided then and there that she had to harness his power; the Jedi be damned, the potential a source this good had was limitless. And Uma needed it.

Which is how she’d found herself here just over an hour later, scrambling through the tunnels, searching for a way back to above ground while also calling for Din. In his rage upon realizing her true motive, he shoved Grogu into her arms and ordered her back to the ship before running after Uma; he was determined to give them time to escape while he killed her himself. But this was no ordinary bail jumper, or petty thief. Witches were notoriously deceptive and powerful wielders of the Force in their own right, one of the only few concepts she understood more than Din could. Him being left alone with an ancient bog witch was a huge risk, even for him.

Fuck, where is he??

“Red!” she hissed, her voice bouncing down depths of the walls in front of her. Her old nickname for him still stuck for her, and even though Din no longer wore that old scrappy suit of his, he was as stubborn and hardheaded as he’d ever been with or without it.

A moment later, they heard it: multiple blaster shots coming from a tunnel to their left. Din.

Grogu squirmed uncomfortably in her sling bag and cooed worriedly. Despite her panic and the frantic thrum of her heart pounding in her ears, she could sense the baby’s anxiety swelling in little bursts. She shushed him softly, gently petting the top of his head. She forced herself to sigh to calm her nerves. Even if she was terrified, she had to keep it together if only for the kid’s sake.

“It’s okay honey, we’ll find him,” she whispered to him, quickly following the sound. Sure enough, there were strong vibes coming from this direction. Had he found Uma in there?

When she rounded the last corner, her heart swelled. There, across the dim and damp cave this tunnel led to, with his back turned to her, was Din. He was alone and unmoving, but his hands were to his side, no clenched fists or weapons on the ready.

“There you are!” she sighed out in relief, already picking up her pace to reach him. “Gods, I was starting to get worri-!“

Wait-

The shots.. Where is his blas—

Then Din turned around, and she froze. The Force was talking, screaming to her right now in a way that made her stomach turn. He was standing with his shoulders stiffened and his legs spread apart, but his back was almost coiled, his helmet tilted so very slightly, as he looked right at her. Normally she could gauge when he was looking at her, but this stare was different. In fact, everything about his body language felt.. off. She didn’t know how to explain it, but when Grogu’s ears sunk flat against his little head, that was when she knew she was right: something was wrong.

“..Din?” she called to him, her voice so much softer this time. Her heartbeat picked up, and her blood began pumping into her eardrums again. He didn’t move for a moment, but his head tilted further off to the side and this time, she could feel his eyes drilling a hole into her skull.

“Theere you are,” he suddenly cooed, in a voice so low and so candidly sinister, that it sent goosebumps down all 4 of her limbs. He fully turned his body towards her in a move so fluid, he almost looked like a droid. It was then she felt, or rather sensed, a shadowy aura around him; it consumed him, enveloped around him like a viper, and it was angry, ancient and malevolent.

“Wh- ” her voice cracks and she quickly clears her throat, sweat building in the back of her neck. “-where is she?”

“It’s all right now.” Din all but purred at her. He held a hand out towards her, coaxing her to cross the room to him. “Grogu?”

Grogu stiffened in her arms.

His helmet tilted down, his voice dropping to an almost ominous drawl. “It’s time to go home.”

Get out. It’s the only message the Force is giving her right now. Get out get out get out get out.

She began backing up inch by inch, her grip tightening around the baby.

Din could already see her and called her name out, her real name, “don’t.” he warned darkly.

“Din,” she tried again, her voice starting to shake against her will. “where is she?”

Din took a step towards her, and her nerves began to scramble. Her body is telling her to run but her eyes are still racing across the room. And it’s when she cranes her head up to look for a ceiling that she sees her: Uma is standing at least 2 stories above them, a pair of glowing red eyes that weren’t there before looking directly at her. Her long arms are spread out by her sides and if it wasn’t for the patch of rock ledge sticking out below her feet, she would’ve looked like she was floating.

The witch suddenly cocked her head to the side in a distorted stretch, a move Din followed in perfect sync with her.

Her face dropped in horror and she felt the blood drain from her face. No, no, no, no..

Uma’s eyes darted for a split second to the baby in her arms before she once again made direct eye contact with her. She’s quiet for a beat too long before she speaks in a distorted, inhumane hiss:

“Kill her.”

She only had time to spot Din reach for his holster, and in a single swift move, she stuffed Grogu completely inside her bag and took off behind her. She’d just barely missed the single blaster shot that grazed the rocks where she stood and she didn’t bother sticking around to talk any more sense into Din.

Whatever the witch had done, whatever he was, it wasn’t her Mandalorian. And she didn’t even have time to find out how to break this spell. Din had told her this time and time again before; when push came to shove, if the situation were to ever go south, the Child was always to be her first priority. Reuniting Grogu with his people was the most important of all missions, and if it came down to it, yes, even more important than Din’s own well-being. Time was not on her side right now, she had a limited number of priorities she could manage and in this moment, getting Grogu to the ship was at the top of that list.

She ducked around as many corners as she could see, in hopes of confusing him long enough to find an escape. She could still somewhat remember the way they came in, but none of these tunnels looked familiar to her right now.

Then, as she passed another triad of tunnels, she felt it: the familiar scent of rainwater and wet earth, a cool breeze that could only come from above ground tickling her ankles, and all coming from one specific direction. She was getting closer. She sprinted into the middle tunnel, the Force whispering to her in words she could never make out. Whatever they were saying, they were taking her the right way and that was all she needed.

She was rounding the corner when she heard another set of shots from behind her, and this time they were uncomfortably close to her head. “S-Shit!” she squealed, ducking low. She spotted a little opening behind a layer of rocks against the wall. It was just big enough for her hide in so she wasted no time, slipping behind them and pressing her back as far into the walls as she could go. She pulled her bag into her chest and pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe through her nose, air coming out in rapid and shaky little huffs.

For a moment it was quiet, and she almost thought he’d gone the other way. Then, Din called her name, practically singing it as he rounded the corner from the last tunnel she ran into, followed immediately by a sweetly-ominous, “Groguu.” It made her hold her breath, her heart ramming against her rib cage.

He walked slower this time. He’d heard her footsteps stop, which told him she was nearby. She took in one last breath and forced herself to close her eyes.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. Focus, focus..

“Sweetheaart,” Din cooed, slowly unsheathing his vibro blade. His voice is mostly there, but even with the modulator, she can hear the disembodied growls filtering through and overwhelming him.

Focus.

Remember. She can’t command her access to the Force. The Force has to come to her.

Din let his blade swipe loudly against a wall of rock in a piercing screech.

She almost flinched. Then, one of her hands pressed onto the floor, fingers digging into the softer ground. She focused on her surroundings, trying to map out the cluster of channels around her.

“You can’t hide forever, pretty girl.” (mostly) Din drawled. His heavy footsteps loomed closer, taking his time as he was undoubtedly trying to find her heat signature.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, digging her fingertips deeper into the earth. She searched the tunnels, scanning the walls, feeling every crack, every crevice, reading the pattern of fractures in the bedrock, until..

Bingo!

Just as she felt Din’s body hover over her, they both heard it; the collapse of loose rocks to Din’s right. His helmet snapped towards it instantly before he quickened his pace and turned the corner, following the sound.

She opened her eyes and shakily exhaled. Holy shit, it worked!

She didn’t stick around to celebrate though. The second he was out of sight, she slipped out of her hiding spot and took off in the opposite direction. Her little mental map had also confirmed her instinct; this was the right direction to head back to land. And the tunnels proved it— sunlight was starting to peek through the little cracks in the ceilings the further she went.

Then, she felt a prickle along the back of her neck. Behind you—

She whirled around and her hand shot back up with a gasp, Force-freezing Din right on time before he could bring his blade down. She held him there for a moment, trying to read him.

“Din, snap out of it!” she strained. He snarled at her in response, trying to push back against her with his full weight.

She released him, throwing him back as far as she could go with a breathless pant. She watched his body skid to a stop before she stretched her hand out again. She felt the Force around his body and her fingers clenched. She lifted him off the ground and threw him again, this time around a corner and into the next hallway down, this time not caring where he landed, nor waiting to find out.

She ran ahead, her grip tightening around the baby. Her lungs were on fire, but her legs were numb, they could hardly feel just how much work she was putting into them. But she was getting closer. She could hear the water drippings get louder, which told her they were getting close to the waterfalls up above. Then, there it was; a cave opening just ahead, where she could see trees, fog and the greying skies on the other side. Thank gods, she was almost there!

Her heart swelled with revived hope. Then, she heard a familiar whizz fly by her ear. She looked up and saw it— a grenade rolling to a stop nearby, ticking down its final second by second.

Shit-!

She dipped left to get as fast and as far away as she could before it detonated, sending her flying forward. She crash-landed just before the opening, Grogu slipping out and rolling just a few feet away with a squeak. She grunted and hissed in pain, straining to get up before freezing. Din was coming, but he wasn’t close enough to spot them yet.

They were bathed in smoke and ash from the explosion and she had an opening of just a few precious seconds left, so she gently Force-pushed Grogu against the walls before looking into his eyes. “Honey I need you to hide, okay?” she whispered, tears threatening to blur her vision as she motioned with her hands and covered her eyes. A physical cue that she’d taught Grogu when they had playtime. Hide!

His ears perked up in understanding and he sunk further into the shadows of the walls, his tan robe blending into the bedrock. She sighed in relief. As long as he stayed there, he’d be safe. For now.

Then, a gloved hand gripped tightly around her ankle. Before she could gasp, she was dragged into the smoke and yanked right into Din’s grasp. She yelped out as she grabbed his wrist this time, his vibro-blade just inches from her face.

“D-Din!” she cried out to him again, her eyes blown wide open to search his visor. “Din, wake up!”

His growl was almost animalistic and it sent a wave of panic through her system.

With another grunt, she bent his wrist and kneed him in the groin, causing him to drop his blade. She kicked herself away from him and scrambled to her feet, snatching his blade with one hand and pulling out her blaster with the other. She panted, sweat brimming across her forehead as she aimed her blaster at him. “Don’t make me do this, Red!” she warned him shakily.

He rose to his feet as soon as he landed, his armor rising and falling with his slow breathing. He cocked his head towards her, taking in her smaller form before he lunged at her once more.

She shot several blasts towards his knees. His armor was impenetrable, but she knew every inch of his beskar like the surface of his bed and she knew exactly where to reach skin when she needed it. The plasma bolts singed his knee pads enough to make him stumble forward and she used his weight against him to knock him to the floor. She pocketed his knife and Force-pinned him down with her free hand, causing him to squirm and wrestle under her grip. She had just enough time to force his blaster out of his grasp, when she suddenly heard an ear-splitting shriek from inside her brain.

Uma.

It was enough to distract her and break her hold on Din, her hands shooting up instead to try and muffle the awful sound. A second later, her legs were swept out from under her. She landed face up on the ground with a groan before a slab of beskar pressed onto her chest. Din sat over her to pin her down before both hands wrapped around her neck. Then, he began to squeeze.

And that’s when she began to panic. His grip was instant, and intentional. With her air supply cut off, she immediately began struggling underneath him, choking out whimpers and unintelligible pleas up at him. Her hands pulled and yanked and scratched at his wrists but his grip held like stone. The tighter he squeezed, the stronger she felt Uma’s control over him, and the longer her lungs screamed to breathe, the more her hope began to wilt that she’d be able to bring him back.

But the worst part was watching him, how cold and unresponsive he otherwise was as he watched her struggle below him. He might as well have been a stranger, the ruthless asshole bounty hunter she’d met on their first day. Like he was crushing helpless prey instead of his own partner.

“D-“ her chokes melted into strangled sobs, hot tears rolling down her temples. She couldn’t even say his name anymore. He said nothing back to her, the only sounds coming out of his modulator was his grunts as he dug his gloves deeper into her neck.

Din..! He couldn’t hear her through the Force, but it didn’t stop her from trying anyway. With every awful passing second, her brain grew foggier and her body became heavier. She was starting to see black spots in her vision and just before she thought she would pass out, he stopped squeezing.

His body stiffened and he was suddenly thrown back and off of her. Her chest rose as she sucked in as much oxygen as she could take before she started coughing, her vision spinning as she refilled her lungs. She craned her neck and there, through the fading black spots behind her eyes, stood little Grogu. His tiny arm was outstretched, pinning his father down with far more ease than she ever could, his big brown eyes squinted in concentration.

Din was dragged across the floor and his limbs were splayed out and pinned down. He began to struggle and growl, a disembodied snarl coming from behind his own voice. He almost looked and sounded like an animal caught in a trap and the longer he struggled, the angrier he became. But Grogu wasn’t done yet. He started walking forward, keeping him in place and as she sat up, she realized the Child was doing a little Force-reading of his own.

Then, her skin began to prickle again. The witch. She was on her feet and looked up just in time to see Uma practically flying towards Grogu with a piercing shriek. Without a second thought, she threw her body in between them, tackling her sideways before she could cross the room. She rolled over and onto her feet, bringing both hands up to hold Uma in place and fling her body away from the baby. The witch landed on her toes and redirected her focus on her instead.

“You have been a nuisance for far too long!” Uma snarled, her red eyes brimming with rage, before her dominant hand shot up.

She was thrown backwards with a far more powerful shove and smashed into the wall behind her so hard, she almost blacked out again. Uma stalked towards her, lifting her off the ground and pinning her body to the walls as she drew closer. “And for that,” she continued. “I’m going to kill your little boyfriend first and make you watch before I cut you open.”

She cried out, straining against Uma’s hold. She was strong, much stronger with the Force than she’d hoped for. She sucked in a breath as the witch closed the distance between them, her clawed hand lightly dragging her nails across the skin of her cheek.

Suddenly, Uma folded over and shrieked, almost in pain. And from over her shoulder, she saw why. Grogu’s eyes were now closed, his tiny little hand pressed to the forehead of Din’s helmet as he sat on his chest. Din was still pinned down but yelling out in strangled pain as a thin, misty fog started puffing out from the pores of his armor. He was trying to break Uma’s hold on Din.

Both of them let out a particularly haunted joint-wail, and she felt Uma’s hold on her loosen. This was the inch she needed. Sliding down the wall, she reached for her leg holster, unsheathed Din’s blade and in one swift upper-cut, pierced it straight into Uma’s heart. She glared into the witch’s eyes as they faded from neon red back to a hollow black.

“Cut this open, bitch.” she snarled at her, before pulling out the blade and slitting her throat open without a moment of hesitation. Her body crumpled to the floor, where she disintegrated into a pile of ash. Instantly, the purple smog around Din broke free, sending him gasping for air. Grogu let him go, and his tiny body plopped down onto his chest plate from the amount of energy he’d just spent.

Her own body collapsed to the floor as she fully broke free as well, breathless, shaking and drenched in sweat as she gathered herself.

Din groaned weakly, his chest rising and falling heavily, and this time, she recognized his voice. She was still trembling too hard to walk, so she crawled over to him, gasping as her head hovered just above his helmet.

“Din..?” she whimpered, and his helmet shot towards her. His gasps were sharp as he reached for her and whispered her name back to her, making her heart swell with relief.

“Din!” she sighed and pressed her forehead to his helmet and held onto it as close as she could. She shivered as she felt one of his hands slide into her hair, gently pressing back against her forehead. She pulled back and looked at Grogu, who was now tittering on the edge of passing out. His energy was all but spent, but it didn’t stop her from picking him up and pulling him into her arms in a tight hug.

“You did so good, little one!” she praised him tearfully, planting sweet little kisses along the top of his head, and she leaned into Din as he sat up to wrap his arms around them both. She looked back up at Din, tears brimming her eyes as she gently cradled his helmet with a free hand. “Are you okay?” she asked him quietly.

He huffed softly and pressed his helmet against her forehead, his hand sliding into the small of her back. “I should be asking you that.” he half-joked, and it made her laugh despite herself. She cradled Grogu in her arms and buried herself into the crook of Din’s cowl, refusing to pull away from him as he stroked her hair and rubbed her back. “Thank you.” he suddenly whispered, his voice cracking right towards the end, and all she could do was nod into his collarbone.

They sat like this for several moments until Din had gathered himself enough to pull them both to their feet. “We have to go,” he instructed her softly and she simply nodded in agreement. “Can you walk?” he asked her with a gentle hand on her arm and she nodded again, cradling the baby closer to her. They couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

They hurried out of the caves and back onto land, crossing the fields to where the Crest was waiting. Din was first in the cockpit, bringing the ship back to life while she got Grogu settled. He was fast asleep by the time they got back so she placed him in his hover pod, gently tucking him in and stroking his ears as she watched him breathe. As small as he was, her skills in the Force paled in comparison to his; his potential really was endless, but more than just the miracles he could perform, or the way he could lift things a hundred times his size with a flick of his little claw; it was his heart and his unconditional love for Din that brought her to her knees. He was already halfway through breaking through Uma’s curse by the time she was able to strike, if anything he probably could’ve ended it all himself. He was as rare as beskar itself, and just as pure. And she would give her life a thousand times over to protect him if she could.

She didn’t allow herself to breathe until she felt the ship lift off the ground and carry them back into space. And it wasn’t until she felt them lurch into hyperspace that she finally let her body relax and close the lid on Grogu’s pod to let him nap peacefully.

She started for the ladder to the cockpit and almost jumped out of her skin when she turned around to find Din mid-jump as he landed on the deck from upstairs. He stopped and seemed almost as surprised to see her. “How is he?” he asked softly.

“He’s fine,” she nodded reassuringly, crossing her arms in front of her. “he’s gonna be asleep for a while until he regains his strength.”

He nodded back in response. “Good. He could use th..” he suddenly trailed off, his body frozen as he stared at her.

She blinked back at him in alarm when he said nothing else. “..What?” she asks. “What is it?”

Din didn’t move immediately, and for a moment she was almost terrified that somehow Uma was still in there, but then he crossed the room and closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to gently cradle her face. He craned her head further up and what she saw from the reflection of his helmet gave her an answer. Basked in the full light of the Crest, red and purple bruises were starting to set around her neck, in the perfect shape of his hands. A broken exhale came out of his modulator and she realized his hands were trembling.

“Cya’rika, I..” he breathed out, and the raw ache in his voice drove a stake straight into her heart.

“Din..” she tried to start, but he only further craned her neck up, his gloved fingers ghosting over her skin as he took in the full sight of her injuries. His breathing began to come out in broken pants, and his fingers only shook harder.

“I hurt you..” his voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard the crack under it.

She felt a pang of guilt in her stomach and she quickly began to shake her head in disagreement. “Shh, no no-“ she tried to ease him, her own hands coming up to press over his gloves. “-you didn’t..”

“I almost killed you,” he croaked, his own guilt quickly overwhelming him. “and all I could do was watch.” He paused, gently stroking her face before his helmet tilted to the floor. “I could feel.. I could see everything that witch was making me do. I watched myself strangle you, I looked into your eyes and no matter how hard I tried to scream or fight, I couldn’t stop myself.”

She shook her head again as she pulled him closer. “No, no..” she whimpered, bringing her fingers up to her neck. She wanted to reassure him, to try to let him know that she didn’t blame him. She couldn’t blame him. She refused to let that kind of guilt hover over him, not when she knew how long he was capable of carrying that weight on his shoulders. “She did this to me.”

“With my hands.” he growled, before sighing heavily and shaking his own head. “I’m s..” his voice cracked again and he swallowed the lump rising in his throat. “I’m so sorry, mesh’la. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough and it almost cost me you.”

“S-Shhh..” she soothed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t blame you.” She had to stand on her tiptoes to gently grab and kiss his helmet. “Not for a single moment do I blame you.”

A broken exhale huffed out of the modulator and his hands found her waist and the small of her back. He pressed her as close as his armor allowed her to be and she fully leaned into him, nuzzling her nose against the very center of the T-shape. Then, she pulled back and peered up into the black of his visor— she’d never looked into his eyes before, yet somehow, Din felt like she could still see him. Her fingertips gently cupped the hollowed out “cheeks” of his helmet, before her lashes fluttered down to where his lips would be.

“Din..” All she needed was his name. Whispered in a voice so soft and vulnerable, yet laced with an ache of her own so cutting and subtle, only he could make it out clear as day. All she needed was his name to shift the air completely.

His breath caught in the modulator, gloved hands cradling her face, his thumbs gently wiping her tear stains dry. “Are you sure?”

He had to ask. His answer was always the same, but he always asked first, whether it was out of respect, politeness, Creed or if he just wanted to make sure. She had to smile before leaning back in, this time planting a full kiss on the very front of his helmet while he watched from the other side. Her hands slid down his chest plates until they found his padded waist, squeezing the thick fabric down there anyway to pin their hips closer together. “Please..” she whimpered against his beskar, and the sweet little whine in her voice was more than enough for him to surrender to her.

He swallowed and nodded once at her. On cue, her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed, wetting her lips slightly.

First came the click and hiss, and before she could jump from the loud clang of his helmet hitting the floor, his lips were on hers. She gasped against him, her hands immediately flying to cradle his bare face. It’d been only a few weeks since they started kissing. But it had shifted everything; from the sex, to his body language towards her, their daily small talks, even how they both interacted around the kid, they were drawn to each other now in a way they hadn’t experienced yet. He was reasonably awkward and clumsy at first, but he was a fast learner and she loved being his target practice. And even though it’d already become somewhat of a nightly ritual, it always felt like the first time every single time.

He was quick to crowd her, pressing her against the wall behind her. He ripped his gloves off to tangle his fingers into her hair, his tongue already sliding in between her lips to taste her. She audibly moaned into his lips, her eyebrows kneading together in longing. His hands grew impatient, sliding them down her sides, trailing her curves and when she felt them cup the back of her thighs, she knew to jump into his touch and wrap her legs around his waist. He parted their lips to lift her with ease, groaning as she takes advantage of her new height to eagerly pull him back in. Her back finds the coolness of the steel wall again and she shudders, her fingers tangling into the mess of soft hair she adores now.

And it isn’t until he runs of breath that he shifts direction, his parted lips leaving soft kisses on her cheeks and her temples. He slows down to kiss her forehead, nuzzles their noses, and leans in for one more closed-mouth kiss before he slowly brings them down and across her jaw. She sighs and cranes her head up to give him access and it’s then she realizes her bruises are still a little sore, not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind her they were still there. Yet his touch is light as air. His lips are soft and slow, his hand is warm to the touch and he cradles and kisses her skin so tenderly, she starts forgetting they came from the same pair of hands.

The first unfiltered sound she hears is when he starts whispering sweet little nothings in Mando’a into her skin, repenting to her, and eventually he allows a little Basic to slip through. “..my pretty, precious girl.. don’ even deserve you..” He kisses a soft spot on the nape of her neck and she whines, a little shudder running down her spine and settling into her core.

She instinctively rocks against his hip and he groans again, burying his perfectly curved nose into her shoulder. “Tell me what you want, angel,” He slips his hand from her neck and lightly trails it to the small of her back. “Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

This was her Din. Behind the layers of armor and weapons, the walls around his rules, his loyalty, his Creed, under his grief, his stubbornness and his rage, was a selfless, doting and softhearted soul. He was all mush with sweet gestures, a voice like melted sugar and small, soft touches. He rarely vocalized his devotion to her in public; those were usually left for the pitch black safety of his living quarters. This was her Din, and it was exactly what she wanted.

She’s gasping as she blindly traces his face, letting her fingers trail lower until she finds one of his shoulder pauldrons. “O-Off,” she pleads, her lips finding his temple and kissing his soft skin. “I want all of you.”

Din doesn’t hesitate. She’s off the wall in an instant and she hugs his neck to nuzzle his nose. Din’s eyes never leave her face, watching with a mix of awe and genuine tenderness as she kept her eyes firmly closed for him. She made fun of virtually everything else about him, but she never once questioned the Way. He was used to the jokes and the stereotypes by now, and she wasn’t any different at first either. But she was never cruel, or purposely harmful. She’d accepted the barriers in their intimacy from the very beginning and she was never once doubtful about it. It was something he hadn’t experienced with anyone else before, even from those in the covert. Everything about this was new to him, and it made his heart pound like nothing else had before.

He rounds the corner into his bed chamber, she cuts the lights with a quick smack on the wall as he clicks the door shut, darkness swallowing them whole. He kisses her again and sits her onto his bed. He’s quick with his armor, tossing each piece in one spot next to him on the floor for him to deal with later. Once she has hands on his flight suit, she makes quick work of zipping him out.

They’re both gasping at this point, her hands slipping down to make work of his belt as he rips his undershirt off. Once he’s able to step out of his pants, he grabs her waist and pulls her close, claiming her lips once more. Her clothes are easier to handle, and he’s effortless with how quickly he can get her out of her chest band. He gently lays her out on his cot, his knees fencing her in underneath him. His large hands start on the outside of her thighs. They’re strong and warm to the touch, tracing the curves of her hips and waist. They trail over the soft skin of her stomach and she sucks in a gasp, goosebumps trailing behind his fingers like prints in the snow.

“So soft..” she hears him whisper above her, fingers mapping out her ribcage before he gently cups her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the buds of her nipples and she whimpers under his feathery touch.

“Diin,” she calls for him and arches her back. He responds by taking one of the hardened buds in his mouth, which finally pulls a moan out of her. His sigh is a strangled groan and he makes quick work of her breasts, teasing, squeezing and pinching exactly where she likes it with one hand while he suckles and tastes the other. He knows just where she’s sensitive the most and he uses it to his full advantage until she’s physically mewling and whimpering under him, her back arched up desperately into him.

He tastes her other nipple when his hand slips down in between them. Her jaw drops as his fingers find the thin cloth of her underwear, rubbing a teasing circle around the exact area of her swollen clit. His name becomes a whimpered little chant as she begs for more friction, hips driving into his hand.

“Oh gods, please—!” she’s getting shameless now, shudders running down her spine as he gets braver. His mouth travels further south, hands pressing her into the cot while he tastes the salt of her skin. He parts her legs and kisses down the inside of her thighs, the scruff of his beard ghosting over her nerves. She whines again when he slows down on purpose to gently suck on a spot on her hip.

Then she feels his head dip and hears him inhale slowly and a blush of realization creeps across her cheeks. “Already, pretty girl?” he teases lightly, his fingers sliding across the soaked fabric of her underwear and she chokes, her hips already bucking into him. He chuckles softly and smooches the flesh on her thigh. “Easyy cyar,” his voice has dipped an octave lower and his words are dripping out like softened honey. His touch on her hip melts into her skin. “lift up.”

She obeys and he slips it down and off with calculated ease as he slots himself in between her legs. She can feel his breath ghosting over her skin, his big warm hands digging into the flesh of her hips, and then his tongue laps up her folds and she blurts out a throaty moan. He starts slow, tasting every inch of her, mapping her out and she allows it, fisting his hair as the air is sucked out of her.

Her moan spikes up as he inches around her clit, and he pauses over her to chuckle before he starts smooching around the bundle of nerves once, twice. “Di- “ she’s cut off when he palms her, two fingers sliding in between her folds to massage her nerves there. He hums low in his chest, collecting and spreading her arousal and allows her to buck against his touch. He looks up as he teases and massages her folds, palming her clit as his middle finger circles her entrance. She’s squirming under him, whimpering incoherently. She’s flushed and desperate, her back arching when she feels his tongue flick across her nipple.

“Is this what you want?” he purrs, sliding his middle finger inside, making her exhale sharply. He growls as he finally dips into her pussy; she’s warm and wet and tight, and the sensation sends a shocking pulse into his cock. He starts pumping his finger in and out, feeling her out as she’s pulled apart inch by inch. Her moans climb into a sweet octave and he swears she sounds like a songbird.

“Already so wet for me, ” Din marvels and she whimpers back at him. How can she bring herself to tell him he’s the only person who’s ever made her this vulnerable when she can’t even get his name out without moaning? Her breath hitches as a second digit slips inside, and Din moans softly from her grip. She cries out as he starts fucking her faster, his mouth returning to the bundle of nerves now swollen and pulsing in arousal.

“Din!” Her jaw is slack, fingers dug and tangled in his hair. She’s bucking shamelessly into his face and Din groans against her clit, pumping his fingers in and out of her with relative ease.

“That’s my girl.” he murmurs between wet kisses, ducking his head to suckle the center of her core, drawing more mewls out of her. “Fuck.. you taste so fucking good..” he whispers, before flicking his tongue mercilessly around her clit. She’s then rendered breathless when he fucks her deep and starts flicking his fingertips back and forth against the little bundle of nerves on the roof of her core, and with his larger digits, it’s a spot he can reach so much easier than she could on her own. “Right there?” he has the nerve to growl against her pussy, making her physically throb around him.

“Y-Yes!” she’s practically sobbing by now, riding his face as he moans into her skin. She’s embarrassingly close but he refuses to let up, if anything, it only drives him to speed up. His thumb presses over her slick clit, rubbing it in quick circles around that spot, fingers flicking up faster inside of her.

“Cum for me then,” he moans out her name to encourage her. His cock is stiff, tight and still fully pressed fully into his boxers, but he refuses to give attention to anything else until she’s peaked. “Let me hear you, princess.”

“Din.. Din.. fuckbabyfuckfuck- !” she’s an incoherent mess now, one hand tangled into his hair, the other had found his hand supporting her waist, and now had their fingers fully intertwined. She’s close, her thighs twitching and tensing harder around him as her moans escalate. It only takes a few more flicks and she falls apart, her back arched to the ceiling as she releases a guttural scream. He uses their intertwined hands to hold her down as her hips buck wildly against him and he moans against her skin, refusing the stop his ministrations until she’s fully ridden the length of her high. It takes a few long moments but the euphoria blinds her and she wholly surrenders to it.

When she does finally descend, she’s trembling and breathless, her pants coming out in high-pitched whimpers. Din has already pulled out and is kissing up her stomach, crawling back over her, whispering sweet words of praise in what she thinks is Mando’a except she can barely hear.

When she feels his lips start on her neck, she’s regained control of her limbs again and she grips his jaw, luring his face back to eye level. She kisses him first and he consumes her, parting her lips until she can taste herself on his tongue. Her body wraps itself around every inch of him, both of her hands slipping in between them to finally free his cock. He’s one step ahead, slipping his boxers off to finally free his restraints. Her fingers squeeze his shaft and she pulls a sharp gasp out of him.

“Come here—” she hisses against his lips. She was still swirling in a haze of astro-projective bliss, but her body was incensed and her inhibitions in flames with it. Her hands slowly start moving, dragging lazy little strokes up and down his shaft. His body reacts instantly, his gasps coming out in broken pants as he fully leans into her touch. He suddenly moans as one of her thumbs swirls around the tip, spreading his pre-cum around the head of his cock. Her mouth goes dry at the sound of his broken groans and how he starts rocking into her hand. She’s tempted to sink in between his legs in return, but then he ruts his hips into her, rubbing the underside of his cock against her skin and she arches up whimpering from the sensory overload.

“Fuck,” Din manages to growl between his pants as he fully engulfs her under him. He leans in to press their foreheads together as he lifts the back of her thighs, lining himself up between her. This time he drags the bulb of his cock fully in between her folds, dragging another whine out of her. “You’re gonna be the death of me, cyarika.”

Before she can respond, his cock slides in, and the initial stretch makes them both moan out. Din’s hips roll in, burying himself fully inside of her. They’re both gasping with his face buried in her shoulder. She whines his name into the pitch blackness and he starts pulling back out, groaning as her pussy, still tight from her last orgasm, practically sucks him in.

“So fucking perfect.” he hisses out between gritted teeth, stretching her out further. His hands still have a tight grip on her hips, the only thing he can fully grab to will himself not to cum.

“Din..” Her legs wrap around his waist as she somehow finds her voice. When he hums in response and pulls away slightly, it makes her shiver and motivates her to make her next request with a hushed whisper. “I.. I want you to fuck me like you wanna cum first.”

This stuns him into silence. But her words don’t fly over his head either; he’d always made her finish first, all the way back from their very first encounter. It was actually a very noble tradition he was really good about keeping. But hearing her begging for the opposite under him while he had her spread open sent an almost entirely new wave of arousal coursing through his veins. He growls something in Mando’a and the sound borders on animalistic, it rumbles deep enough into her bones to make her walls flutter and clench. A palm slips under the small of her back to lift her hips and she’s pulled into him.

Din slams right back into her and the new angle makes her jaw drop. She can barely recover when he starts rutting almost mercilessly into her, over and over again. His cock drives wave after wave of pleasure over her and it’s a particularly deep thrust that finally pulls the moans out of her. Her back arches against him, her hips rolling back against his until they land on a mutual pace that makes them both gasp out.

“So pretty..” he whispers with a rasp. One of Din’s hands find the edge of his cot above their heads and he pulls himself up to bury even further up inside her with a strained groan. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.” She whimpers and Din’s name pours out of her lips like a prayer, the slapping of wet skin progressively getting faster and more desperate as he fucks her into the cot.

“Y’hear that?” he whispers into her ear, slowing his hips momentarily to drag out the soft squelching of their arousal. She shudders and nods, hugging his back, desperate for him to slam back into her.

“P-Pleaase..”

“I know sweetheart,” he purrs, kissing her lips. “I just love hearing how I fuck you.”

She moans, kissing him back. His cock shoots back in and it makes her head fall back, eyes fluttering in pure pleasure. “Fuck, Din..!” she’s breathless, his rhythm snapping back in place. He grunts above her and it makes her core clench around him. This new angle sends her reeling, hypersensitive nerves sending shock waves of bliss up her spine. “So good..” she manages to whimper out, again and again the higher she climbs. “So fucking good, Din!”

He moans into her shoulder, his strokes growing increasingly fervent. “Who’s pussy is this?” he whispers with a wet kiss, his tongue trailing up her neck.

“Yours!” she doesn’t hesitate, her brows knitted together in pleasure as she fucks back up against him. “..y-yours.. alw..” she swallows, nuzzling her nose into his hair. “it’s always been yours.”

This makes him growl, hips picking up to an almost desperate pace and she almost chokes. “Mine..” one hand lands on her waist, gripping tightly to control his thrusts, the other tangling into her soft hair. He whispers her name again and again, the coil in his stomach growing tighter and tighter. “Mine, mine.. my girl..” his chants grow more desperate, finally edging on the brink of his orgasm. “..my sweet, pretty, precious girl.. fuck- ”

Then his cock ruts into her G-spot and she arches, choking back on a pleasured sob. “T-There!” she whimpers, her nails digging into his neck and back. “Yes..! Yes! Oh gods, right there Din!”

He groans as he ruts into her warmth over and over again, and he leans back down to kiss her, lips and tongues eagerly clashing together before he gasps into her lips to blurt out his final confession. “.. fuck, I love you.” Her heart suddenly seizes in her chest, but then he pulls her legs up in between them and he’s fucking right into her G-spot, rendering her speechless. “I-I love you.. I love you,” he says her name as he quickly unravels. “I always have.. fuck I-.. I can’t lose you baby- ”

Her pussy pulses around him and he crumbles, choking out a pleasured moan as he stiffens around her. He buries himself deep inside of her to spill his release and it’s the sensation of his cock rubbing against her ridges that quickly sends her over the edge right after him. Her whine cracks into a scream as she clings to him, hips thrashing desperately as her second orgasm overwhelms her.

They cling to each other for a moment, gasping breathlessly, before Din finally unclenches. He releases her hips and slowly collapses on top of her, moving his head to lay on her chest, his nose nuzzling into her collarbone.

“Fuck..” She pants and her body droops back to the mattress, both arms softly looping around his neck. She has to wait another minute for both of them to catch their breaths before her thoughts can finally gather.

I love you.

It had never been said out loud before. Had it hung over them in unspoken gestures and unbroken stares before this moment? Had it been suggested to each other once before, twisted amongst playful compliments, flirty insults or heated arguments? Or was it always meant to be whispered in the heat of passion, only to be heard within the walls of their hidden sanctuary?

I love you.

She didn’t think it would happen here to be honest. She didn’t think it would happen at all. In fact, she thought her feelings had been one-sided the entire time until this moment. Her heart is still buzzing, but a new warmth is soaking into her veins and now it’s fluttering for an entirely new reason. She almost wants to cry, except she’s still too mind numbingly high off her second orgasm so all she can do is smile from ear to ear, eyes drifting to the ceiling as her breathing slowly softens.

I love you.

Din is the first to move, slowly rotating his head until his forehead is pressed against her collarbone. He’s still breathless, but his movements are lazier and more fluid. He sighs once and presses a long kiss into her skin, his lips gentle and lingering. A second one pecked just above the first one, before a third, this time lovingly placed on her shoulder.

I love you.

Now, she feels it in every kiss. In every inch of her skin that his fingers brush against. She feels it in how his body curls against her and how his lips slow down over her neck and brush so tenderly against her raw skin there.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers once more to her, and she feels it in his earnesty, in his desperate wish for her not to see him as anything more than who he was: the man she was wholly, unconditionally and almost painfully head-over-heels in love with.

“I know,” she sighs sweetly and kisses the top of his head, nuzzling her nose into his hair. She smiles brightly and her words slip out so easily, it almost felt natural, as if she’d been born to say it. “and I love you.”

It’s soft, almost cracked, but it’s enough to lift Din’s head back up. She knows he can’t see her but she cranes her neck to match his stare anyway. “I’ve always loved you, Din Djarin.” she smiles softly, one of her hands finding his jawline to stroke his cheek. He sucks in a soft breath in the dark and for a beat it’s quiet, but then he moves up to kiss her again, and she returns it tenderly, smiling widely in between their lips.

He pulls away to kiss her forehead, cradling her cheeks between his warm hands, and she closes her eyes to cherish the softness of his lips. He sighs heavily and presses their foreheads together before he whispers softly, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

She grins again and nuzzles their noses together. “I’m gonna assume that was in Mando’a?”

He smiles and pecks her lips. “It’s the closest to what we have in Mando’a.” He pauses until he feels her head curiously tilt to the side. “The literal translation is, ‘I will know you forever’.. ”

There’s a pause as her eyes widen in awe. She feels her heart flutter as she beams again. “I like that,” she cooes, and she means it, curling up around him as she kisses his nose. “it's romantic.”

He chuckles and smooches her cheek, before moving to her lips. He leaves fluttering little kisses on her lips, hands moving to her hair and waist respectively. She purrs against his lips and is just as eager to kiss him back, inhaling as his tongue slips between her teeth. He sighs into her mouth and she gives a little high pitched hum before pulling away with a giggle.

“Diiin,” she tries to scold but she’s smiling too wide and only giggles harder when he starts kissing her jaw.

“Let me make it up to you my love.” he sighs lovingly, smiling as he presses her closer to him.

She fully laughs at this and frees her arms to loop them around his neck. “I already forgave you, silly!”

He chuckles again and leans in just above her. “Oh I'm not done begging for your forgiveness yet, cyar'ika.”

He shifts above her and she then realizes he’s still buried inside of her. He smiles as she gasps, and he kisses along the edge of her jawline. “There’s no rush, princess. We have all night.”

And keep to that promise, he did.

♡♡♡♡

A/N: I should’ve mentioned that this is actually the first time i’ve posted ff in like a decade lmao. And that i DO have a multi-chapter series i’m working on rn that ties into this universe so lmk if y’all are interested in that 👉🏼👈🏼 ok that’s it thx for ur time 💫