#where you’re stuck in the port walk and have to try and figure out what’s going on through the holes in the wall

[autoraton]

I saw in one of your recent posts you just played obra dinn! It’s one of my favorite games ever. Which chapter did you enjoy most ?

FELLOW OBRA DINN ENJOYER!! Hello!

It’s very quickly become one of my favourite games too, but man is it hard to narrow it down to one chapter.

I have to say Soldiers of the Sea or The Doom - they got carnage, crab men, and a million things going on at once. also ‘the frenchman’ gets mentioned and sends me on a wild goose chase for the entire rest of my playthrough

[fairykingjing]

Trafalgar Law X F Reader - Do Barmaids Belong with Pirates?

Here's that Law fic I promised, got another Zoro one coming later this week! Enjoy friends!

Summary: It’s the morning after a night of fun with a pirate captain who frequented the bar you work at. Only you realize you’re still on his submarine, and they already left town.

Warnings: morning after sex fic, both reader and Trafalgar Law are drugged with an aphrodisiac, intimacy is implied to have happened but nothing explicit is stated, angst, fluff at the end

WC: 1841

You wake up with a groan, your head pounding from one too many drinks last night. You expect to see sunlight streaming through a window, but you find yourself in a cool, dark room. There’s a chill in the air as you realize you don’t have your clothes on. You get up and fumble for a light switch, just to see that you are still on the Polar Tang, and metal walls surround you. Memories of last night come flooding back, and you recall some of what happened.

Trafalgar Law and his crew had come by your bar again, ready to unwind with a round of drinks. Every time he visited your island, you felt his eyes staring at you wherever you went, but you never tried to say anything. A pirate captain of his caliber was not someone you wanted to mess with. His crew had been goading him into asking you out, apparently he had a thing for you, not that you ever would have known. He was a very attractive man, but a barmaid from a small island had no business being with a man like him. Still, you were friendly with him and his crew, a little flirty even, and after your shift ended they invited you to join them.

Someone had shoved a drink in both yours and Law’s hands, and you both downed them without question. That’s where everything gets fuzzy. You remember feeling heated, and you could no longer keep your eyes off Law. He was feeling the same. You recalled walking back towards his submarine, and after that it goes a bit blank. You scrunch your face in concentration, trying to remember any small detail, but you can’t. It’s at this point you see that your clothes are in a pile on the floor and you scramble to put them on. You put two and two together and figure that the two of you must have had sex, and he just left you to find your own way off his ship. Pulling the door open, you make your way towards the closest sound of voices.

As you step out into what appears to be the control room, you feel all eyes shoot to you, and a collective “oh shit” is shared among the crew.

“D-does Law know you’re here?” someone asked.

“I… I don’t really know,” you answered. “I don’t even know what happened last night after I boarded the sub. Everything’s foggy.”

“Well we better find out quickly, because we left port over an hour ago!” they exclaimed.

“What!?” you shouted.

Suddenly a strong presence was felt, and you turned timidly to see that Trafalgar Law had entered the room. “What’s with all the commotion?” he demanded. He scanned the room, eyes landing on you and widening in realization. You were still on his ship. He had meant to wake you up when he did, but he had an urgent matter to attend to, and he completely forgot you were there.

“Shit,” he groaned. “This cannot be happening right now.” He walked over to you and pulled you aside. “Look, I don’t know what happened last night, but I suspect someone on my crew used a lust potion on us. I’m sorry, but we’re on a tight schedule to get somewhere so we can’t turn around to drop you off. You’ll have to stay on board until we can get to another island and book you passage back to your home.”

“Uh, okay, that’s fine… I guess…” you said quietly. You were too flustered to argue or demand he take you back now. And what’s this about a lust potion? How long would you be stuck on his ship?

“Since this is mine and my crew’s fault, we’ll provide room and board, and we’ll figure out passage back to your island when we can,” he explained.

You could only nod your head before he whipped around to his crew and began scolding them. “Who the hell put a lust potion in our drinks last night?” he demanded.

“I-it was me, c-captain.,” someone stammered. “But we all had the idea! We know you’ve had your eyes on her for a while now but you refused to say anything to her. S-so we decided to take matters into our own hands.”

“Did any of you stop to consider whether or not my feelings were reciprocated?” Law sighed, rubbing his temples. “Or did you just assume she felt the same way.”

The same way? So he does have feelings for me, you thought to yourself.

“I.. well, she was being pretty flirty with you, so we assumed she did,” someone else answered.

“She’s a barmaid! It’s her job to be flirty! Especially with pirate captains who might have a lot of money,” Law explained.

You were left standing there awkwardly, not sure if you should leave the room or not. It seemed clear that Law did at one point express feelings for you. And while it was true that you were flirty with all the men at the bar (you had to make a living somehow, can they blame you?) you always felt it was different with Law. Still, you weren’t dumb enough to think there was anything special going on. Every interaction was a transaction, and you knew it. Or at least you thought you did. If Law had feelings for you, should you say something?

You cleared your throat and eyes turned to you again, and it was almost like Law forgot you were there a second time. “Fuck, sorry,” Law said quickly. “Bepo will get you set up with somewhere to sleep, and find you a change of clothes.” With that he quickly stormed out of the room, and you were left standing there awkwardly again.

“Sorry about all this,” the Mink you would come to know as Bepo spoke up. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff sorted out.” The two of you left the control room, down a long hallway as he pushed open the door to a small room with a bed in the corner. It wasn’t much, but it would do. “This is just a spare room, but it should suit your needs for now. There’s a change of clothes on the bed, but they might not fit you.”

“That’s okay, I can make do,” you assured. Stepping into the room, you quickly shut the door and peeled yesterdays clothes off. A shower would have been nice, but given the circumstances you won’t complain. You put on the spare clothes, just a plain gray shirt and some long black pants, but they fit you well enough. As you exited the room, you saw that Bepo was waiting for you.

“How about I give you a quick tour of the sub?” he offered. “Then we can get some food.”

“Sounds good to me!” you agreed. He led you along the sub, pointing out areas you could go, and the ones you were strictly to avoid.

“This is Captain Law’s office. Definitely don’t want to go in there,” he cautioned. “Honestly, it might be best if you just avoid him for now.”

“Yeah, he seems like he could use some space…” you nodded in agreement. As you turned to walk away, the door to Law’s office swung open and he stepped out. You squeaked and shrunk back, not wanting to be near him until you had sorted out your feelings, and not sure if he was still pissed off from earlier.

“Ah, there you are, would you mind stepping into my office for a chat?” he asked calmly. You nodded, and stepped into his office nervously. He called out a thanks to Bepo and shut the door, strolling over to his desk. He motioned for you to sit in the chair opposite him, and feeling as though you had no choice, you sat. Taking in your surroundings, you noticed his office was immaculately kept, neat stacks of papers in piles around the room, and several filing cabinets with a variety of labels, several indicating they contained medical records of his crew. “Now, to discuss a plan for getting you back to-”

“Do you like me?” you blurted out. Your face flushed in embarrassment as you realized what you just said.

“Why would you ask me that?” Law questioned. “We really need to get back to-”

“Just answer the damn question, Law,” you demanded. “Please. I know what I heard...”

He frowned, clearly you were not willing to back down from this. Figuring truth was the best option, he answered. “Yes, I’ve found myself drawn to you. Every time my crew and I visit the island, I can’t help but go to the bar you work at. Something about you catches my eye. Does that answer your question?” Now his own face is flushing. He certainly didn’t want to say any of this stuff to you, despite its truth, but he was between a rock and a hard place with nowhere else to go.

“Y-yes, it does,” you reply. “Why did you never tell me?

“Because what would a barmaid want with a pirate?” he answers dryly. “Besides, you have plenty of men who come and go, you can always find someone else.”

“Oh…” you said softly. “I never wanted to tell you anything either, because what would a pirate want with a barmaid? You have plenty of other islands to go to, you can always find someone else.” You looked down at your feet, wishing you were anywhere but here.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “I could find someone else. But I don’t want someone else.” He stood up now, walking out from behind the desk and over to you. You stood up too, looking up at him nervously.

“W-who do you want then?” you whispered. You swallowed thickly, anticipating his response. You wouldn’t believe it until you heard it from his mouth.

“You, obviously,” he chuckled. He brought his hand up to softly caress your cheek, and before you could say anything else he pulled you in for a soft kiss. You were surprised, you never would have expected this, but you quickly reciprocated the kiss, deepening it. Moments later, you heard cheers coming from the doorway to his office, and you both pulled back with a startled laugh.

“I guess this saves you the trouble of telling your crew?” you offered.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to look at it.” he sighed. He would have to have a talk with his crew later about the importance of privacy. But that could wait.

“So, about that passage back to my island…” you began. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

“Of course not,” Law reassured. “I think it’ll be nice having you on the sub.”

“It sure will!” Bepo cheered. He ran in to pull the two of you into a big bear hug. You let out a squeal at the surprise hug, but you smiled big. You thought barmaids didn’t belong with pirates, but maybe this once, she could.

[cozage]

Thinking about what if Trafalgar Law had an s/o that is secretly rich. Like...

They don't flaunt it but they aren't exactly hiding it either. How would law react?

Would he be neutral? Would he be confused...? Like...? What?

Characters: GN! reader x Law

Cw: some fighting/arguments, cute fluff other than that :) 

Total word count: 700

Quite literally nothing goes unnoticed with Law, so I imagine he figures out you’ve got money pretty quickly. However, he’s not sure how much you have or how you’re getting it, and he won’t confront you until something big happens.

It starts out with little things. On port days you always come back with an extra special dessert or something fancy to share with the whole crew. Law can calculate how much it costs to buy something that nice for a crew of 20 people. He doesn’t think anything of it at first, but after the third time at port, he’s suspicious of your finances. But again, he’s not asking.

A crew mate mentions that they want something they see while they’re on an island but don’t have enough berries. Every now and then when you hear someone talk about something they really want, you’ll buy it for them and place it on their bed while they’re out. 

You never say anything about it or let them know it was you who bought it, but every time someone shows up to dinner showing off something they wanted, Law notices how your eyes are full of joy, while everyone else’s are full of amazement and shock. The crew thinks it’s their captain who’s giving the gifts, and he thoroughly denies it, but he never throws you under the bus.

And then the ship needs a repair. A BIG one. And you’re stuck at port until you can get it fixed. Law gets the estimate for repair at 100,000 berries. You can see he’s stressed about it, trying to figure out where to cut corners to afford such a big (but necessary) repair. His stress is bleeding into all other aspects of his life, including your relationship. 

So you walk into his office one day, and just set the money gently on the table, and walk away. He’s staring at the money, shocked that you could have so much on hand.

“Y/N-ya?” he calls to you before you exit the room. “Where on earth did you get this?”

“It’s better not to ask questions,” you smirk back at him and leave. You’d rather not tell him that you were rich, it’s not like it really mattered anyway. 

Later, when the two of you are alone in his room, he brings it back up again. “Seriously, though” he purrs to you, kissing the crook of your neck in between words. “Where are you getting all this money?”

You laugh and push him away gently, teasing him. “What, you think I’m a secret Marine spy or something?”

His eyebrow raised in suspicion, playing along with your joke. “Wouldn't be unheard of, you know.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, finally giving in. “It’s just some money I had from my past life, Captain. Nothing more to it.”

That’s enough of an answer for him. Law isn’t one to pry, and he trusts you completely.

He continues to let you do small gestures for your crewmates anonymously. Your secret is safe with him.

But he doesn’t let you pay for ship problems or other things he should have to deal with as a captain in the future. Sometimes it can spark arguments between the two of you. He’s so damn independent and prideful, and you just want to help ease his burdens when you can. You two usually find a compromise, but sometimes the argument can last a few days until one of you gives in to the other. 

Sometimes he caves first, sometimes you do. It not a super common occurrence, and after your alls spat about money is over, it’s completely forgotten. Law doesn’t want to take advantage of you, even though he knows you don’t see it like that. Because of that, you rarely buy things for him. He’s more of an “Acts of Service'' and “Quality Time” kind of guy anyway.

He likes to pamper you with gifts though. Little treats from a bakery, small pieces of jewelry you pass by and comment on. In the back of his mind, he knows you can afford it, but he still likes to show his love through little gifts anyway. And you like receiving the gifts too. They’re way more special coming from him.  

[bussyslayer333]

Push the button

summary: jake has a thing for his new assistant.

pairing: ceo!jake seresin x assistant!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smutt,, maybe power play?? he’s ur boss,, daddy kink lol, swearing and some creepy work guys. MDNI 18+

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

Jake should have never hired you. He was pretty sure you were the least efficient assistant he’d ever had. But every time he brought you into his office to fire you, you looked up at him with your big eyes and simpered,

“Yes, Mr Seresin?”

He crumbled. You made Jake Seresin a weak, weak man. You were fresh out of college and definitely too young for him, but your tight pencil skirts and blouses that always had at least one button more that needed to be done up always had him slightly dizzy.

He was currently watching you through the glass door to the copy room, bent over the photocopier on the 10th floor trying to unjam whatever document you had probably stuck in the wrong port. Mike, the creepy tech support was stood behind you offering increasingly unhelpful advice. You stood back up with a huff and turned to Mike,

“Are you sure there’s a reset button all the way down there?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,”

Jake watches as you shrug and bend back over trying to look for the “reset button”. He also watches as Mike’s hand slides low on your back, that’s when he decides to make himself known.

“Everything alright?”

Mike immediately backs off from you and prays that you don’t open your mouth. To his dismay, you snap back up immediately, a ditsy smile on your face.

“Totally Mr Seresin! Mike was helping me with the copier, I didn’t realise there was a reset button all the way at the bottom!”

Jake isn’t sure what’s worse, your complete trust in anyone that talks to you or the fact that he’s probably going to have to file to HR about Mike once again. Mike looks up at him somewhat apologetically and Jake sighs,

“Get out.”

Mike scurries off and Jake can’t help but laugh at his uncanny resemblance to a rodent. You’re looking up at him with that pout that makes his dress pants feel too tight,

“That was kind of mean.”

Jake scoffs, “Darlin’ there’s no reset button down there.”

You look up at him, confused for a second, “Oh. Someone should probably tell Mike then, don’t want him doing his job wrong.”

Jake reaches a hand up to rub at his forehead, he worries one day that your unwavering kindness is going to get you killed.

“Walk with me.” Jake orders, remembering he came to fetch you for a reason.

He’s striding out the door much faster than you with his long legs, you walk as fast as you can in your shiny heels to catch up with him. Jake can hear your hurried clip clopping behind him and smiles to himself. Once you catch up, Jake offers his arm to you, figuring it’s the best way for you to stay in pace with him (also because you have a tendency to wander off).

“I have a meeting with a bunch of guys from the board in 20ish minutes, I need you in there with me.”

You’re nodding along to everything he says,

“Certainly sir.” You giggle, saluting him.

Jake wills a groan not to slip out of his mouth at the formality. He also hopes you don’t figure out that you don’t need to be in the meeting at all, he just knows it’s going to be a drag and wants your pretty face to stare at when Rich the head of the board starts droning on.

“Great, 12th floor, meeting room 3 in..” Jake checks his watch, “15 minutes.”

You nod your head along diligently before spinning on your heel,

“Where are you going?” Jake calls after you.

“I left those papers in the copy room!” You exclaim, stumbling slightly now you weren’t looking where you were going.

Jake just sighs and hopes you’re in the meeting room on time.

What Jake doesn’t expect is for you to already be in the meeting room when he gets there, in fact you’re already talking to Rich, and he’s… laughing? In the 5 years that Jake has been head of his company he’s pretty sure he’s never seen Rich even smile. Jake clears his throat to make his presence known and you jump out of the seat next to Rich to stand by Jake’s side.

The smile that was on Rich’s face immediately drops and Jake has to hold back the urge to roll his eyes.

Jake was right, the meeting was long and boring and Rich droned on about efficiency and stats and things that Jake didn’t care about, so he was shocked you weren’t dozing off. When Jake finally managed to escape he turned to you,

“Thank you for that.”

Your bright smile makes up for every boring moment of the past two hours,

“It’s no problem Mr Seresin.”

In the elevator up to the top floor where Jake’s office is he comes to realise how late it is, it’s pushing 9 o clock and most of his employees have left. Jake still has mountains of things to sign and documents to work through, he lets a groan slip out of his mouth.

“All okay Mr Seresin?”

Jake jumps slightly, he had forgotten about your presence next to him and he grimaces down at you,

“You should go home sweetheart, get some rest.”

You beam up at him in your usual demeanour, “And leave your all on your own?”

Jake laughs, “I’ll be fine sweetheart.”

You cross your arms and muster up what you think is a pointed look, Jake tries not to laugh again at your pout.

“I’m not leaving you here, you’ll end up staying all night then I’ll be the one dealing with you tomorrow when you’re cranky and tired.”

The elevator dings and you step out in front of Jake. He sighs realising he won’t be getting rid of you any time soon. He follows the sway of your hips all the way to his office. It’s all sleek large glass doors and the top to bottom window gives him an incredible view of the city below. You flick the lights on and sit in the comfy seat opposite Jake’s leather chair. Jake watches as you kick your heels off and wiggle your toes in your black sheer stockings.

“They hurt like a bitch after a long day.”

Jake chuckles, he’s never heard you swear before. Your eyes widen like a shocked baby deer,

“Shit, am I allowed to swear in front of you?”

You cover your mouth and mumble, “Sorry!”

As Jake sits, he wonders if you truly understand the effect you have on him. Trying to do work whilst you’re perched opposite him is proving a near impossible task. Not to mention the fact that his neck has been killing him all day.

Whilst tapping something into your phone, you look up to see Jake rubbing his neck with a pained look on his face for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“Do you want me to rub your neck?” You question politely.

Jake would love nothing more than having your soft manicured hands rubbing his neck, but he worries what having your hands on him will do to his slowly weakening facade. He decides to throw caution to the winds and speaks up,

“Please.”

He realised that sounded kind of pathetic, but you seem ecstatic, jumping up from your position and making you way to the spot directly in front of him. Jake strains to keep his eyes on your face as you lean down to push his chair back, making more room for yourself.

Your hands on his neck feels like heaven, but he can’t help but feel bad about the way you are now hunkered down trying to help him. So Jake figured the best way to alleviate this is to pull you down into his lap. He does it with both hands on your hips, you land a little ungracefully with a surprised squeal leaving your mouth. You shuffle around until you’re sat comfortably, then look up at Jake,

“Is this okay, Mr Seresin?”

Jake is trying so hard not to spontaneously combust.

“Perfect.”

Your magic hands return back to his neck with vigour, working at the tense knots there. Jake can’t help but groan in pleasure every time you work over a particularly sensitive spot. Something Jake also notices is the way you’re now subtly grinding yourself down on his semi. Your pathetic whimpers going straight down to his cock as you dare to grind down harder onto him. Jake can’t help but tease you,

“What are you doing sweetheart?”

Both your ministrations holt, and your doe eyes meet his again.

“Nothing!” You all but squeak out.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

Jake’s heart pangs as you push your face into his neck and sniffle,

“You just sound so good sir. Feels so good.”

Jake guides your face away from the crook of his neck and coos at your tearful eyes, “It’s okay baby, I liked it.”

You seem elated by his praise and quickly forget your previous embarrassment. Jake slowly guides your lips to his, he’s worried about frightening you away. Your lips are tentative against Jake’s at first, unsure whether you should be doing this. But Jakes strong hands drift down to squeeze against the curve of your ass, eliciting a moan from you. Enough so that Jake can slip his tongue into your mouth, just as Jake goes to deepen the kiss again you pull back shyly and pull on his loosened tie. Jake gets the hint and takes the tie off, placing the expensive silk on his desk behind you.

You get the honour of undoing his buttons, Jake watches with a lazy smirk as you stick your tongue out in concentration. Your manicured nails making it hard to undo the buttons too quickly, but Jake enjoys the build up. When you’re finally finished with your job, you move your hands up to push at the shirt and Jake gets the hint to pull it the rest of the way off of his arms.

Jake smirks as you sigh softly in appreciation, and rake you nails lightly over his abs up to the sprinkling of hair on his chest.

“I’m feeling a little singled out sweets.” Jake teases.

You tilt your head to the side confusedly, until you realise what he’s talking about. Jake loves watching the cogs turn in your mind. You let out a little “oh!” with a giggle and begin to unbutton your blouse. This time Jake doesn’t care for the build up, instead ripping your blouse the rest of the way off, buttons flying.

You pout, “Hey! I liked that top!”

Jake’s eyes run over your chest, as he mumbles something along the lines of, “I’ll buy you a new one.” His heated gaze makes you somewhat self conscious and you bring your hands up to cover your chest.

“Please don’t hide from me baby.”

You slowly bring your hands down and watch as Jake reaches for the clasp at the back of your bra. You gasp as you feel it come undone and reach to hold the cups in place. You make sure to hold eye contact with him as you let your lacy bra drop. Jake’s pulling at his lower lip with his teeth,

“Fuck.”

He pulls you close for a kiss again, revelling in the feeling of your breasts pushed up against his chest. This time you’re confident in the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips with ease as it continues. Your hips grind down into his crotch subconsciously, swirling in delicious circles that have Jake dizzy. When you pull back for a breath Jake is signalling for you to stand up.

Stood up, there’s not much height difference between you whilst he still sits and your stomach clenches in excitement. Jake watches, pupils dilated and you slide your tight pencil skirt down your legs and kick it to the side. Your sheer stockings do little to hide the tiny lace underwear you’ve got on and you startle slightly as Jake groans loudly at the sight.

“Jesus, sweets, is this all for me?”

A smile spreads across Jake’s face as you nod coyly.

Jake spins you around so that you’re bent somewhat over his desk, you wiggle your ass at him as he pulls your stockings down for you. Once you’re fully stepped out of them Jake stands to his full height, you can feel his tall presence behind you and it sends a shiver of excitement up your spine. Jake experimentally taps your ass, it’s not too hard but your flesh jiggles, pleasing Jake to no end. He does it again, this time harder. You arch back into his touch with a moan.

“Would you look at that?” You can hear the smirk on Jake’s face.

He smacks your ass again, a pink mark forms from the pressure of it.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, hand stroking gently against the mark.

“Please touch me.” You whimper, leaning back into his touch.

Jake’s hand ghosts against your pussy, a finger sliding up the lace that covers your folds, he can feel how wet you are through the fabric. His middle finger finds your clit and experimentally circles it. You mewl, head thrown back.

“Daddy, please.”

Jake chuckles at the name that slips out of your mouth. You were driving him insane and you didn’t even know it.

Jake drops to his knees behind you, licking a fat stripe up your clothed pussy. You squirm back against his face and gasp. Jake likes your reaction so much that he takes mercy on you, pulling your underwear to the side and licking another stripe up your pussy, dipping his tongue experimentally into your hole. You’re so wet that Jake can already feel your juices coating his chin, you can’t seem to care as you moan incoherently, wiggling back into Jake’s face. Jake stills you by holding your hips, dipping his tongue back down to circle your clit. Just as your moans begin to pick up he pulls away,

“Sugar, I need to feel you on me is that okay?”

You whine at the loss of contact, but his question sounds promising, “Yes.”

Jake quirks an eyebrow as he stands back up, whispering into your ear with a smirk, “Yes what?”

Your cheeks flush, “Yes, Daddy.”

You can hear Jake unbuckling his belt behind you, prompting you to arch your back, shaking your ass invitingly. Jake is pretty sure you’re going to kill him, but he’s going to die a happy man. Jake’s hand feels strong gripping onto the side of your hip, you look back at him and still have the audacity to smile shyly even as he guides the tip of his cock through your dripping folds. He’s groaning freely at the feel of it all, especially as you wiggle back onto him. He finally takes mercy on you and pushes into you slowly, the whimper you let out is music to his ears.

Once he’s fully settled into you, he allows you a minute to get used to the feeling of his considerable size. He takes a tentative thrust into you and you moan once again and turn back to look at him,

“Please, Daddy.”

Jake had never been one to deny you before. He begins his thrusts with reckless abandon, one hand still had a bruising grip on your hip, the other pushing slightly into the arch of your lower back. The high pitched whine that comes out of you scratches against your throat sending vibrations down your chest, the feeling of your breasts pushed against the cold glass top of Jake’s desk making for a delicious contrast in temperature.

Jake’s thrusts are calculated and hit deep within you, he’s groaning behind you, the feeling of your warm walls pulling him is in intoxicating. A smirk makes his way onto his face as he realises how you’re pushing back to meet his thrusts, ass hitting his pelvis rhythmically.

“Desperate, baby?”

Jake pulls you by your hair to look back at him, he’s greeted with your glassy eyes and open mouth moaning freely. You’ve lost any shame you may have felt to the feeling of Jake so deep inside of you. The last straw is when he reaches a strong hand down to circle your clit, just enough pressure to make your knees weak, relying more than ever on his grip on your waist.

“Fuckkkkkk.” You whine and Jake tuts, kissing against the hot skin of your back.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling as Jake quickens his ministrations against your clit, pace of his thrusts still quick and deep. You clench around him, nearing your peak and he groans.

“Sweetheart, please cum for me.”

His words add fuel to the growing fire in your core, grinding back into his fast thrusts. One final toy to your clit sends you head first over the edge. You can’t even imagine how loud your moans are as you become consumed by pleasure. Jake is enjoying every last second, wishing he could commit the sweet sounds you make to his memory forever. Your throbbing walls bring Jake dangerously close to his own peak, and his thrusts become erratic as your heartbeat finally returns back to normal. Jake pulls out of you swiftly and watches in awe as you sink to your knees in front of him, tongue lolling out of your mouth and wide eyes staring up at him.

Jake strokes his cock quickly, keeping eye contact with you as he finishes. His cum spatters over your tongue and chin though mostly landing over your chest. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight of you on your knees covered in his seed, fighting off another erection. You swipe your tongue around your lips, collecting as much of his seed as you can. It’s salty but not unpleasant.

Jake helps you up to your wobbly feet. You’re suddenly slightly self conscious as you take in your position; stood fully naked in front of your boss who just fucked you within an inch of your life. Your anxieties are squashed as he kisses your forehead sweetly and flattens some of your mussed hair. He reaches for the draw behind him and pulls out a few tissues from a box, wiping the drying cum from your chest. When he meets your look you quirk up an eyebrow, smirking.

He chuckles, “Shut up.”

Jake reaches for his discarded shirt and drapes it over your frame,

“Let me take you home?”

“That would be nice, sir.”

Jake huffs, “Just Jake is okay sweetheart.”

“Okay Just Jake.” You tease, as he rolls his eyes.

The next morning you step into the elevator to find Jake. There’s no one else in there and he presses the button to the top floor; his office.

He looks down at your tight blouse, straightening the sleeves of his suit jacket and smirks,

“So, daddy huh?”

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

a/n: HERE SHE ISSS i am obsessed sorry everyone

feel free to send me any thoughts!! i’m thinking maybe i do some drabbles about them?? send me some prompts :)

hope u all enjoy my filth once again

pls reblog, comment or send me and ask and tell me what you think !!

thank u for readinggg

- honey <333

[sierrajanesims]

Because I’ve gone off the rails and have now recorded and posted a bunch of Podfics I figured I’d just make a masterpost here and update when applicable. If you’re interested in hearing audio versions of some awesome OFMD fan fictions, find me on SoundCloud to hear the following fics:

“when you love it” by mia_ugly

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: Stede’s being kissed before the door fully clicks shut behind him.

Original fic here

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“always seeking (however scary)” by ShowMeAHero

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic Summary: “Let’s get him out of those wet clothes, then, hm?” Ed suggests.

Stede hesitates, then draws backward to look into Izzy’s eyes, all bright and curious and concerned and tender and— Jesus motherfucking Christ—

“Would that be something you wanted?” Stede asks him.

Say it, say it, say it, Izzy tells himself. You’re better than this. You’re stronger than this. You want it. Fucking take it.

“Yes,” Izzy tells him. “I’m— Yes, fuck, would you just—”

Original fic here

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“To the Lonely Sea and the Sky” by zythepsary

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic Summary: The core concepts had always seemed fairly simple to Stede: block like that, swing like this, try not to get stabbed. Izzy made it look infinitely more complicated and somehow, too easy. He moved like water, without hesitation.

Izzy decides Stede needs proper swordplay lessons.

Original fic here

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“Late Night Vulgarities” by Luddleston

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: It figured that the moment Stede's libido decided to rear its head, he’d be sharing a room.

When Stede finds himself fantasizing about Ed and desperate for relief, he's pleased to discover that Ed is fast asleep, which means Stede can basically go to town as long as he keeps himself reasonably quiet.

Ed is not fast asleep. Ed is not even a little bit asleep at all. Ed is listening to Stede pant and whisper his name, and he's losing his entire fucking mind about it.

Original fic here

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“it’s worth it, it’s divine” by beepbeep4

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: Ed wears one of Stede's silk robes. Things escalate quickly.

Original fic here

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“A Gentleman Walks Into a Bar” by Cyborgshepard

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: “Everyone’s got a tribe. Like finding like. Where do you think you fit?”

He's never felt like he fit anywhere. Like a lighthouse, obstructive and crude, stuck on a cold, craggy shoreline, Stede is perpetually catching sight of others skirting around him in his light, before looking away again.

“Honestly, I’m just– just Stede.”

Boring. Divorcee. A late-bloomer and metaphorical virgin to the nuances of the modern gay man.

Ed hums, stretches his legs again. The leather of his pants crinkles. “I like that.”

Original fic here

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The Two Birds series by red-sky-in-mourning:

“The Nest That Hope Builds” by red-sky-in-mourning

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: Leave it to the Gentleman Pirate to show up in the middle of an ambush.

Now Ed's got two immediate problems on his hands, and he's not sure which one's bigger—the crew of the attacking ship pouring over the starboard side of the Revenge, swinging their cutlasses, or Stede Bonnet's crew charging across the port rail with their knives and clubs, yelling loud enough to drown out the enemy cannons.

Fucking fuck.

Original fic here

“My Boat Is Empty, My Heart Is Full” by red-sky-in-mourning

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: Stede and Ed share an intimate moment, and memories of intimate moments, on their last night aboard the Revenge. What the next day brings will reshape their future on the high seas—and the fates of all who sail in their path.

A sequel to The Nest that Hope Builds. Reading the prequel is recommended, but this story can be somewhat comfortably read as a standalone. Contains potential (unconfirmed) spoilers for S2.

Original fic here

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“So Good for Him” by leaveanote

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: Ed still isn't used to being vulnerable. But Stede's praise unlocks a part of him he didn't know he had.

And fuck, it feels good.

Original fic here

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“Intimately Rearranged” by givemebaretrees

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic Summary: Izzy needs a shave, after an injury makes him unable to hold a razor. Unfortunately for Izzy, he learns something new about himself when Stede steps in to assist.

Original fic here

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“A Laughing Matter” by mxwicked

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic summary: “Now you’re—” Stede babbles, going absolutely pinkish. “You’re laughing again!”

Ed nods, still giggling. “I’m just—I’m sorry, it’s not because—”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Stede, darling,” Ed says, cupping Stede’s face. “Don’t be foolish. It’s because you’re doing something right.”

Or: Stede’s never laughed during sex before. Hell, he’s barely even smiled. So when Edward can’t stop giggling during their first time, he’s not really sure what to think.

Original fic here

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Unpleasantdiversions Fluffy Kinktober-ish Swirl fics:

1. The One at the Coffee Shop

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic summary: Baby gay Stede Bonnet just wants a coffee. Leather daddies Ed & Izzy cut in line & take him out back to make up for it.

Written for days 1 & 2 of Kinktober & Flufftober combined: warm drinks, 1st dates, blindfolds & clothed sex. Modern AU. Previously posted as a chapter in "Fluffy Kinktober-ish Swirl."

Original fic here

2. The One With the Apologies

Rated: Teen

Pairing(s): sort of Edward Teach/Izzy Hands, implied future Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic summary: Set just a bit after S01E10. Content includes: leather care, depression, mention of toe, heartbreak, cuddling, and one dude who has like no idea whatsoever that he's in love. Rated T to keep in line with the general rating of the show.

Written for day 3 of Kinktober & Flufftober combined: leather, caretaking. Canon era. Previously posted as a chapter in "Fluffy Kinktober-ish Swirl."

Original fic here

3. The One On a Technicality

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands, Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic summary: Featuring an ill-fated attempt at on-deck sfw aftercare, a retreat to a private space, & a bit of preparatory head. The "coming untouched" is after the "getting hard touched," so maybe it's coming untouched on a technicality.

POV flips when they go below deck. Set in some vague happily-ever-after steddyhands future.

Written for days 4 & 5 of Kinktober & Flufftober combined: aftercare/afterglow, oh moment, desk sex, coming untouched. Previously posted as a chapter in "Fluffy Kinktober-ish Swirl."

Original fic here

4. The One With Only One Bed

Rated: Teen

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic summary: Ed/Izzy, rated probably T or even gen? it's very soft but there is a mention of a raid having happened.

Takes place in some nebulous future steddyhands situation.

Written for day 6 of Kinktober & Flufftober combined: bathing & only one bed. Previously posted as a chapter in "Fluffy Kinktober-ish Swirl."

Original fic here

5. The One With Size Queen Stede (Coffee Boys 2)

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic summary: Steddyhands, probably a loose-ish definition of size kink, Stede has eyes for getting fucked with something big. Bottom Stede.

Written for day 7 of Kinktober & Flufftober combined: movie night, size kink. Previously posted as a chapter in "Fluffy Kinktober-ish Swirl."

Original fic here

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(to kneel) grotesque and bare by jasontoddbootysquad

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, sort of Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands, implied future Edward Teach/Izzy Hands

Fic summary: Izzy remembers a French vessel wreathed in flames, and the screams of powdered aristocrats as they leapt from the burning ship into the dark waters below. He remembers a cocky smile silhouetted against the raging fire as Stede Bonnet climbed clumsily back aboard the Revenge.

Izzy sees the sharp lick of those flames in his eyes as Stede whispers, “Kneel.”

The third time Izzy tries to kill Stede, they throw him in the brig. Stede eventually realizes talking it through may not be the most effective course of action.

Original fic here

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i myself am the pedestal by jasontoddbootysquad

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands, Edward Teach/Izzy Hands, sort of Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Fic summary: Izzy faces Stede head on, not breaking eye contact as he peels the glove from his right hand, unknots the leather bands tied above his elbows, loosens the scarf around his neck. He tosses each item petulantly onto the floor between them as he peels off layer after layer of linen and leather, baring himself to the man in front of him.

The only thing that doesn’t make it to the floor is the ring at the base of his throat. He slips it onto the middle finger of his right hand, twisting it once, twice to warm the metal against his flushed skin.

Izzy gets released from the brig.

Original fic here

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Bad to the Bone; Sick as a Dog by Antimonicacid

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Stede Bonnet/Israel Hands, some bit of Edward Teach/Israel Hands

Fic summary:

During a heated altercation, Izzy slips up and calls Stede “Daddy.” Stede interprets this to mean that Izzy clearly views him as a father figure, and needs a nurturing parental figure in his life. Izzy interprets this as yet another sign from God that he should've thrown himself overboard long ago.

Original fic here

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“To be just a footnote in their paragraph” by foxtails

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Lucius Spriggs, Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary:

There was always going to be a catch. There was always going to be some kind of terrible thing to counteract the unexpected selflessness of the two most selfish men Lucius knows.

And the terrible thing is sex. Because of course it is.

or: Lucius and the worst temporary roommates ever.

or: seventeen bad decisions in one sexy unethical trenchcoat: the musical

Original fic found here

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The “per my last email” series by ephemeralgrime

“late night talking” by ephemeralgrime

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Stede Bonnet/Lucius Spriggs, background/past Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, background Lucius Spriggs/Black Pete

Fic Summary:

“I can see what you listen to on Spotify, you know,” Lucius says, crossing one leg over the other. “You’ll have to tell me — how was ‘Sad Girl Starter Pack?’”

"Lucius, I’m doing just fine,” Stede sniffs.

Lucius says nothing, just tips his glass to finish his drink so he can use the coaster to fan himself. He lets the silence stretch until Stede’s unstoppable impulse to chatter finally wins out.

“Alright,” Stede sighs, taking a prim sip of his beer. “I admit I may be feeling a little adrift.”

Original fic here

“played it so nonchalant” by ephemeralgrime

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Lucius Spriggs, Stede Bonnet/Lucius Spriggs, Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Edward Teach/Lucius Spriggs, Lucius Spriggs/Black Pete

Fic Summary:

Six months ago, Lucius had just been fired by Edward and was crying into an emergency midday gin and tonic until Pete could beg off work early and rescue him. And now he’s here, eating nighttime eggs and drinking champagne in his loft apartment after fucking his boyfriend.

Twice.

“Was it just me,” Pete says, awed, to the empty space where Edward just was. “Or was he hitting on you?”

Original fic here

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The “an eternal spring [our flag means death au-pril 2023]” series by ShowMeAHero:

“as if two particles from one” by ShowMeAHero

Rated:Explicit

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: 

Still.

He likes Ed. He likes him so, so much. Too much to lie to him about this, and still, so much that it’s going to tear him apart when Ed leaves him.

Even if this was just supposed to be a bi-monthly thing. Acquaintances-with-benefits.

Friends-with-benefits, if Stede’s the one being asked.

More than that.

Stede would make Ed everything, if he asked.

(Already, he sort of is.)

Original fic here

“like my reflection (you move when I do)” by ShowMeAHero

Rated:Teen and Up

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: 

“Oh, shit, thank God,” Stede exhales in a rush. “Ed, don’t move— You’re okay, alright? You just had a little fall, don’t move.”

“Stede?” Ed asks, groggy, confused. “What— Were we— Shower?”

Stede strokes Ed’s wet hair back a bit, tells him, “No, we weren’t showering. You slipped in the shower yourself, darling. I just called for help, you’re going to be okay. Don’t— Ed, don’t move your head, stop—”

“I’m okay,” Ed says, like Stede didn’t just find him naked and unconscious on the floor of his own bathroom.

Original fic here

“let the sugar sit ” by ShowMeAHero

Rated:Teen and Up

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: 

r/HobbyDrama

u/DreadPirateBlackberries ● 4d

[Preserves and Jams] I confronted the jammer who kept buying all the empty jars from every store in the tri-county area and we ended up falling in love; now we make and sell our own preserves and jams and marmalades and everything. Here’s how people liking our jam too much almost destroyed my husband on our wedding day.

Original fic here

“Meet and Greet” by ShowMeAHero

Rated:Explicit

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: 

Ed’s not a superfan. He’s not. He’s just— a really, really big fan, who is also a very casual, normal fan, and he’s behaving very normally right now, because Stede really is just a guy. He’s an incredible guy, funny and handsome and just as kind as he’s always seemed, but he’s just a guy. A very talented guy. A guy that lots of people would like to be this close to.

Just a guy. Just a regular guy.

That Ed wants to kiss very, very badly.

Original fic here

“Cross the Finish Line” by ShowMeAHero

Rated:Explicit

Pairing(s):

Oluwande Boodhari/Jim Jimenez, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary:

It’s a perfect distraction, and Oluwande slips from the madness into the darkness. All the sounds cut out abruptly, immersing him in silence.

His adrenaline keeps moving, blood still buzzing, heart thumping hard and fast in his chest. His cock’s still impossibly hard, the afterimage of Jim still burning in his eyes like he’s stared at the sun for too long.

‘Follow me,’ they’d said, deep voice curling warm and syrupy in his ear, and then they were gone—

—and now they’re here again, shoving Oluwande up against the closed door to the track.

Original fic here

“roasters’ revenge” by ShowMeAHero

Rated: Teen and Up

Pairing(s): 

Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: 

Inside the sticker on the thermos he gave Stede is Ed’s handwriting: Ed Teach, the customer who wants to take you out for drinks next time, with his phone number written beneath.

Heart racing, tongue heavy, throat closing up a bit, Stede points to the number and asks, “For me?”

“Yeah, that’s for you,” Ed says, distracted. “Listen, are you sure you don’t have any allergies, Stede? Because your face is getting all fucking— red, and shit.”

“I’d like to go on a date with you,” Stede tells him through a strange white haze.

His breath’s growing tight, his chest strange; he’s never been asked out by somebody he really likes before, he thinks.

Original fic here

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The “oh my god they were roommates” series by fake_geek_boy:

“Sex Ed” by fake_geek_boy

Rated:Explicit

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary:

“Wait, hold on.” Ed is having trouble wrapping his head around this. “What do you mean you don’t own a vibrator? Like… you couldn’t sneak them out of the house when you moved into residence and haven’t gotten more, or…?”

“What? No! I’ve just… never bought one.” Stede’s face is bright red, and Ed almost feels bad for him, but this is blowing his entire goddamn mind.

OR

Ed finds out that Stede's never used a vibrator, and decides to do something about it.

Original fic here

“Starve Without You On My Lips” by fake_geek_boy

Rated:Explicit

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary:

If anyone asked, Ed would tell them that he’s one hundred percent completely fine and happy with the way everything has been going between him and Stede these last few weeks.

Fortunately, no one has asked. Ed doesn’t like to lie any more than he can help it.

He’d thought—hoped, really—that things would be different after what he’s been mentally referring to as “The Vibrator Incident.” It had certainly felt like things were different, at least at the time. After all, you can’t just… rub one out with your roommate who’s also your best friend who you’re definitely not a little in love with…you can’t do that and not have anything change, right?

Original fic found here

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“you’re waking meadows in my mind” by raspberryseashanty

Rated: Explicit

Pairing(s): Anton/Viago (What We Do in the Shadows)

Fic Summary:

The first time it happens, Anton can blame it on the adrenaline.

Alternate title: 5 times Anton & Viago 'accidentally' share a moment of intimacy, and 1 time they do it on purpose.

Original fic here

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“Going Steddy” by SierraJaneSims

Rated: General Audiences

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: 

Based on a twitter prompt from @gentlesbeard profile: "Stede comes out to Ed as gay with a whole big speech about how he hopes this doesn’t ruin their friendship but he can’t hide it anymore. Ed thought they were already dating."

Original fic here

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“Soft (A Love Story in Three Bites)” by mia_ugly

Rated:Explicit

Pairing(s): 

Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Fic Summary: 

Crowley was an angel, once. Before she fell.

Aziraphale was a warrior (she fell too. In her own time.)

Featuring the poems “Three Bites” by pinehutch

Original fic found here

Poems inspired by this fic that are included found here

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The “AM” series by oatmilktruther

“Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?” by

Rated: Teen and up

Pairing(s):

Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary:

Ed only calls Stede when he's high, until one night he isn't.

Original fic found here

“I Want It All”

Rated: Teen and Up

Pairing(s): Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Fic Summary: A sequel to “Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?”

Original fic here

[bobathirstaccount]

Priceless Pt 10

Boba x fem!reader, slight action/adventure, smut, bit of fluff, bit of angst

***

“Boba. If you don’t answer me, I’m gonna Leave The Ship. So you better respond, “‘cause I don’t wanna get in trouble. …Please.”

You held your breath, listening for the slightest of noises. Nothing. Shit. Fuck it.

You used the monitor near the cargo hold door to make sure no one was waiting for you. Nothing. Warily, you opened the ship up. You grabbed a remote and quickly exited, closing Slave 1 up and making sure she was secure. You kept your hood up and wound your way into the crowd. You beelined for the other end of the port. People bumped into you left and right. You got aggressive, pushing them back. You were in a hurry.

You finally made it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was a ship people seemed to be avoiding going to close to. You watched for a minute. Carefully, you approached. As you got closer, you recognized it. Here you were. Now what? The main door was welded shut. You were not going through the poop shoot. So what did that leave you? You walked around it to where the main cargo hold door was. It was burst open. Shocked, you felt your mouth open slightly. Snapping it shut, you ran inside, leapt over some debris, and found yourself in a darkened ship. Drawing Boba’s old blaster, you made your way to the last place he’d said he’d been headed: the cockpit.

You slunk through the dark ship. You turned on a small flashlight you had and shined it around. All seemed normal. You turned a corner. Unsure which way to go, you went left. You rounded a gentle curve in the ship. Stopping short, you nearly screamed. Boba’s helmet was lying on the ground.

You stopped yourself from running forward. Quietly, you snuck closer. You reached his helmet and picked it up. It seemed unscathed. But where was he? You continued.

You approached what you thought might be the cockpit. Slowing down, you crouched at the door and listened.


“Who’s there?” an annoyed Boba demanded.

You ran in to him.

“I knew it. I knew you were gonna leave the ship,” he raged as you covered him in kisses. Then you pulled back to look at his predicament. A long piece of metal was twisted around him and one of the copilots’ seats. He was stuck in place.

“How’d this happen?” You wondered who was so strong that they could do this.

“Well,” he got even more aggrieved, “I guess they figured the best surprise was her. She was waiting for me in the corridor out there. When I rounded the corner, she force pushed me. I flew into the wall and my helmet came off. After that… I was… uh, dazed. So she got me into the chair and used some kind of force-powered strength to bend this thing around me. Then, she took my damn welding kit and put it one seat away, just out of reach.”

“But she left you alive.” You kissed his head again as he grumbled about Jedi and the force and whatever-chlorians. Getting the kit ready, you carefully cut through the twisted metal. Boba stood immediately once he was freed.

“So. Now we gotta talk about how you left the ship. I told you not to.” He put his hands on his hips.

“Alright, well, I waited 45 minutes almost. You went quiet on me and the Rebellion won’t answer my calls. So what was I supposed to do?”

”Die of old age on the ship.”

You laughed, but countered, “How long would you have been here if I hadn’t come?”

”Oh, I was just waiting for you to come. I knew you would. You can’t help yourself.”

You gaped, “So I was your plan?”

”Yup. Now, you need an appropriate punishment. I’ll give you a minute head start, very sporting of me considering the short distance. If you make it to the ship first, fine, I’ll forgive you. But if I catch you, you’re in for it.”

“Now wait a minute —“

”Your 60 seconds has already started,” he commented lightly, putting his helmet on. “Imma spank that ass,” he said, turning to you and flexing his fingers. You ran, trying not to laugh. It was exhilarating to be chased by Boba when the reason to run was this. You decided to try as hard as you could, just to see how close you could get.

Dashing out of the ship, you pulled your hood up and threw yourself into the crowd. Pushing through it, you tried to plan your next move. You noticed a ladder up a building. Perfect! You pushed through the thickening crowd to the alleyway and scrambled up the ladder. At the top, you took the short walkway over to the next building. Crouching down, you peered over the edge. You waited to watch Boba go past you. Then you could sneak behind him and perhaps in his confusion, sneak past him into the ship.

But you didn’t see him. You waited another minute, scanning the crowd for his dented helmet. Nothing. Where could he have gone?

A hand grabbed your shoulder. You screamed and rotated, attacking. Boba easily fended you off and held you against his body. You calmed down when you realized it was him.

“I keep telling you: you’re not a galaxy class spy. Why’d you think you could sneak around me?” He was amused, but it was mixed with something else.

“Awh. Well I knew I couldn’t outrun you,” you countered.

“Fair point. That is true,” Boba was smug.

You wriggled in his grasp. He quickly swept your feet out from under you, laying you down gently on a crumpled tarp. He held you down and knelt between your legs. Still holding you down with one hand, he undid your pants with the other and tugged at them.

“Well now that I’ve caught you, you need your punishment. I said I was going to spank that ass; it’s time.” Before you could protest, he flipped you over and pulled you up onto all fours. He yanked your pants down to your knees. Scandalized, you started to complain, but were cut off by a sharp smack to an asscheek. “Ow!” You exclaimed, somewhat angrily, “That fuckin’ hurt.”

Boba laughed. “You’re being punished, remember? It’s supposed to make you say ‘ow.’”

You started to complain again, but heard his helmet drop to the ground. Curious, you looked back at him. He winked at you before pulling you towards himself. He spanked you again. “Ow,” you complained, trying to pull away from him so you could sit down to protect your butt. He didn’t allow it, instead opting to smack the other cheek. “Babe stop it!” You tried to scramble away.

“But your punishment isn’t over yet; don’t you want the aftercare?”

Confused, you turned your head to look at him again. You were just in time to see his hand come down on your ass again. Yelling, you tried to swat at him with a hand. He grabbed you by the wrist, and brought it to the small of your back. “Oh, we’re fighting? How do you think that’s gonna go?”

”Stop spanking me!”

”Its literally a punishment.” He spanked you again. Tears formed in your eyes from the butt smacking as he murmured, “Okay now for aftercare.” You winced, assuming another smack. Instead, he gently released your arm and kneaded your asscheeks for a moment.

“Love you, but don’t ever leave the fuckin’ ship again when I say not to.”

”But you were waiting for me!”

“That is aside from the point. Now lemme take care of you….” You heard Boba unzip his pants.

”Babe!” You exclaimed, scandalized.

“What? This is the aftercare… don’t worry. No one can see us; I made sure before I grabbed you.” He waited, kneading your ass again. You considered. The din and murmur of the crowd was below you, flowing like a stream. It was a busy time of day, the crowd sounded like it had grown even more congested. “O-okay. Aftercare, right? So, no more smacks?”

”No more smacks… from my hands. Maybe from my dick though,” he teased. You snickered. “Okay, take care of me then…”

“Hmmm, okay,” Boba grabbed one of your hips. He used the other hand to guide himself between your legs. Pushing into you, he slowly slide back and forth until you were wet and whimpering for more. “Okay, pet, if you insist,” he slid into you slowly, dragging it out. Impatient, you rocked your hips back and forth, stroking him. He stopped moving and let you. You jerked backward onto him harder and faster, growing bold. He grunted, “Such a little slut for my cock, hmm?”

“For you baby, I’m a big slut,” you commented, fucking him harder. He groaned something in Mando’a, then mumbled in basic, “Throw it back, princess…”

Further encouraged, you fucked back onto him as hard as you could. He groaned your name before adding, “We gotta have more public sex…”

You half laughed, but were too into the moment to be all that amused. Your pussy was hot and needy, making wet fucking noises as you moved.

The crowd grew louder. You called out Boba’s name, confident no one could hear you and having fun with it. Boba growled and gripped your hips, starting to jackhammer into you. “I’ll give you a reason to call out my name,” he grunted, fingers digging into your ass.

“My good girl,” Boba murmured as he fucked you into oblivion. You moaned loudly again, starting to see stars as you came. The fire in your pussy erupted like a volcano, making your limbs shaky and you breathless. Boba groaned, stilling in you as he came, fingers dug into your skin. “Fuck, baby, one way or the other you’re gonna be the death of me,” he grumbled, pulling out. You readjusted and before you could stand, he pulled you up and into his arms. Holding you gently, he knocked his helmet very lightly against your forehead.

“Love you. Now, let’s get out of here.” He set you down and grabbed your hand to lead you back home.

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: Follow the Twitching Ears

One of the more useful NaNo bits of advice is, if your plot gets stuck, throw in the plot ninjas.

Basically just toss in a random ninja attack. Or pirate attack. Or maybe both. Where did the ninjas come from? Who knows. Who cares? The point is to get things moving enough that your brain gets past being stuck. You can make sense of it later.

There is, however, another approach to getting unstuck. And that’s to follow the plotbunny’s impulses... down the rabbit hole, so to speak.

When last seen, your character wanted to do X, whether X was “kiss the girl”, “rob the bank” or “blow up the Death Star”. But what would doing X actually entail?

Say, for example, that you’re a bunch of pirates trying to lay a trap for a vampire. A smart vampire. Meaning it has to be a subtle trap he walks into without noticing....

Okay, okay, stop rolling on the floor. Pirates are rightfully rumored to be cunning, but most of them are not subtle. Otherwise they’d be creating elaborate Leverage-style cons to seize faux-legal control of a cargo once it hit port, instead of risking scurvy and death on the high seas. So. Subtle is out.

Which means you have to make the trap something he’ll walk into anyway, even if things look a little hinky. Such as, say, terrain that all works to his advantage. (Or seems to.) And something inside the trap he simply can’t resist. What that is will depend on the vampire; or at least, what the pirates know about vampires in general and this one in specific.

This, of course, is where we get into fantasy-world espionage, or at least info-gathering of the listening in taverns variety. Which... actually isn’t as easy as it sounds. There are, in fact, multiple problems with this plan.

First and foremost, the pirates are almost all foreigners. They don’t speak the language. Which makes eavesdropping difficult. The few pirates who might be renegades from this kingdom’s fishing fleets and navy... would mostly come from a particular group of islands, which speak their own language, related to but not the same as that on the mainland. Oops.

Let’s assume they figure out how to handle the language barrier. Or at least think they can. Now they have to find a tavern.

See the above problem of foreigners.

Granted, humans being humans with profit motives, there’s probably somebody willing to take a few chunks of silver to let them grab a drink or ten. But the quality of info in that kind of dive may be hit or miss. The info may be better, and the bartenders friendlier, in ports in neighboring kingdoms. Maybe. They could pick up plenty of rumors that way. Useful rumors? Well... maybe. If a vampire’s been the scourge of pirates, monsters, and other such annoyances for a couple centuries, there’s bound to be stories, and some of them will even be true! Ish.

So the pirates think they know what they’re dealing with, and they think they know his weaknesses - supernatural and otherwise. Now how do they lure him in so they can kill him, and freely wreak havoc on the coast?

Here they at last have a stroke of luck, because this kingdom has a reputation for getting their people back. So, raid a few villages....

(Hostage situations. Messy.)

And all this plottiness came from pinning the original bunny down and asking, “Okay, so then what?”

Be kind to your plotbunnies. They know a lot.

...They just need to be properly interrogated first....

[wordsfromthesol]

The Set-Up

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @anousiemay @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You are Dinah's younger sister. Word Count: 2,410 A/N: I know it’s been awhile so if anyone wants on/off a taglist just let me know!

"Alright, Roy, you got me here. What's so important?" You called out as you stumbled into what the Outlaws deemed a safehouse. Their standards were pretty low.

"We needed a fourth, okay! Go get Jason and I'll brief everyone." Roy hurried you out of the room that he and Kory were already set up in. You sauntered up to the closed door and knocked.

"Jason, you decent?" You shouted as your fist rapped against the wood.

"Well I'm not morally decent, but I'm wearing pants if that's what you're asking. Though I can be without pants if that's what you prefer --" Jason's voice trailed off as he swung open the door and was met with your face. Clearly, he figured the person on the other side would be Roy or Kory. His face slightly reddened as he reached back and grabbed a shirt.

"I mean…maybe not right now. Roy needs to go over the mission with us." You winked at his obvious embarrassment before trotting off in the direction you came from. Jason quickly caught up with you.

"I…uh…I didn't know Roy asked you for help."

"Yeah he didn't really tell me much. Just that you guys needed a fourth. Not sure why he thinks I'll make that much of a difference.

"Guess we should go find out." Jason raced past you, hoping to avoid further embarrassment, but stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the living room. Roy and Kory were both staring at him, trying to hold back fits of laughter. "What is this all-important mission Y/N was recruited on?" He asked in an attempt to redirect their attention. You walked in behind Jason just in time to get the answer.

"Not really all-important…" Roy's voice reeked of mischief, "just better to have four than three. Then we can do two teams."

"You do know that I have my own agenda. I'm not just sitting around waiting for your call."

"Oh Y/N/N! Don't think of it like that, I practically begged him to ask you. I seriously need some more girl time." Kory piped in to release some of the building tension.

"Uh-huh, sure. Roy, what are we doing?"

"Right. Human trafficking, finally got a hit on this group. Think it's their main smuggling port. There are two docks to check, so two teams. See, I do have a plan. Kinda…"

"Hm mm" you mumbled, still not fully believing him, but you let him continue anyways. You didn't fly out here for nothing.

**

Hours had passed and the four of you sat near the docks, waiting for the cover of nightfall. The smugglers, however, did not. You grabbed Jason's arm and began running towards the dock as soon as you saw a boat pulling into the harbor.

"What are you doing?" Jason mumbled as he ran to keep up with you.

"Are you blind? There's a container ship pulling into the docks. The dock that Roy told us to watch."

"The sun is still setting. There's no way they'd be that stupid." He tried to reason with you, but your pace didn't slow.

"Maybe they just paid the right people. Or killed them." You retorted though the timing was eerily suspicious. Both of you came to a halt when you only saw four guys. Sure, they had guns…but it definitely wasn't enough to warrant extra help. You glanced over at Jason in utter disbelief. "You want me to sit this one out or…"

"Let's just get it over with." Jason was clearly just as agitated as you were. The "battle" lasted only a few seconds and your trip back to the rendezvous spot was completed in utter silence.

"So…Roy. Why the fuck was I needed here?" Holding nothing back, you cried out as soon as you saw his red costume appear in the distance.

"Woah, hold up there. Must've gotten some bad intel. It happens. Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah well next time be sure. I do have my own cases and crime rings to dismantle." You walked off in a huff, determined to find your own way back. You didn't know what exactly Roy was up to, but you knew you wouldn't like it.

**

Months passed since the pointless mission with the Outlaws. You had gotten back to Miami, your home for the time being as you investigated a new drug trade route coming up from South America. Finally, you had made some progress, only said progress led to you being pinned down behind some wooden barrels.

"These aren't going to last long," you mumbled as you dialed Kory on your phone. No answer. "Fuck." Roy was next.

"Y/N, can this wait --" You hear the wind get pushed out of him just as the sentence finished.

"Hm not really. Kinda been pissing off the wrong people and now I'm pinned down."

"Fuck." Roy mumbled as he threw a punch towards the jaw of the unsuspecting thug.

"I tried Kory, but -- shit…" You watched as the barrels splintered around you.

"Off-world. I'm patching in Jas --" Roy stopped a syllable short, you assumed dodging his own bullets. You didn't wait for him to finish.

"Yeah look. I'm in Miami." You heard Jason mumble your name but continued on. You didn't know how much longer you would have. "Pretty sure they'll take me alive. Heard through the grapevine the boss wants the honors himself." You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt a bullet pierce through your shoulder. You took a few steadying breaths before continuing. "I have a tracer in my mask. I'll try to keep it on as long as I can. If you can't track it for some reason, call my sister." You didn't hang up the call before slowly raising your hands above the splintered barrels. "Take me to your leader," you exclaimed in your best alien impression, all while trying not to laugh.

"Do you think this is a game?!" One of the thugs screamed at you as they inched closer. You just shrugged, waiting to either be killed or taken. "Well grab her, idiots!" Two men hesitantly walked towards you, guns still drawn.

"Should I tie myself up? Would that be easier?" At this point, your sarcasm was the only thing keeping you sane. Finally, they got within striking distance and everything went black.

"Y/N? What's happening?!" Jason frantically began calling out your name as he was met with silence. Roy eventually spoke up.

"Jason. I hope you're on your way. I'll meet up with you as soon as I can, but I need to get ahold of Dinah first." Roy had no idea what he was going to say to her.

"Even in the jet, it's going to take 2 hours to get there…" The reality of the situation set it. "But I'm taking off now." Jason tried to push the horrific thoughts from his mind.

**

You woke up tied to a wooden chair. Not surprising.

"So, where's the boss?" You forced the words out, willing yourself into consciousness.

"Don't worry girlie, he's on his way…though I suppose there's nothing wrong with having a little fun first." The goon smirked as he flipped a knife in his hands.

"Well, you wouldn't want to damage the merchandise." You could tell he wasn't sold, so you continued. "I mean I'm dead either way, right? Wouldn't want you to risk your life as well…" He just stared blankly at you while the gears turned in his mind. Finally, he let out an exasperated huff and turned his back to you. At least you were able to buy yourself a little more time. Though you had a feeling it still wouldn't be enough. As your head began spinning, you looked down at your shoulder. The blood was still pouring out of the wound. "Of course…" you mumbled as the dizziness intensified. You were going to have to think of something quickly.

"So, how'd you get stuck with this job? Or are you just some disposable errand boy who got lucky?" You began antagonizing him as you attempted to saw through the ropes with the small blade that discharged out of your gloves.  

"Lucky?" He turned towards you with a villainous look plastered across his face. He sauntered towards you and placed his hands on either side of the chair. "I've been following you. I know your patterns. When you strike. That ambush was calculated and planned. Boss sent me 'cuz he knew I'd get the job done." Before he could push himself up from the chair, you launched forward, ramming your head into his. As he crashed to the floor, another burly man rushed into the room. You managed to free one of your legs just in time. As he stumbled backward you bent down in an attempt to free your other leg. The man lunged at you again. Pulling the other leg free, you circle around and hurled the chair at him. You let out a huge sigh of relief and slid to the floor as he landed atop the first assailant.

**

Jason watched as men patrolled around the building. Just as he was about to move Roy's voice came over the comm, "Have you found her? What's the situation? I'm still an hour out."

"I found her. They have four guards patrolling. Heavily armed. I found an opening."

"Four patrolling…you can't get any intel about who's inside? I think you should wait for me to get there." Roy already knew there was no hope of that.

"We may not have a chance if I wait. I'm going in."

Jason heard his best friend sigh, before eventually relenting. "Keep me updated. I'll be there when I can." Jason saw his opening coming up again. He moved quickly and quietly, sliding into the open door. He took in his surroundings, trying to not alert anyone of his presence unless absolutely necessary. He didn't want to give any of them a reason to shoot you…that is, if you were still alive. As he rounded the corner, he came face to face with a brutish man. Jason launched himself forward, knocking them both to the ground as he muffled the goon's mouth with his hand and encapsulated his neck. It only took a few seconds before the guard was out cold and Jason continued lurching down the hallway. He stopped short of a closed door. Jason took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side.

**

You were jolted awake a few moments later and looked around to find the two men still unconscious on the ground. Crawling over, you pulled at one of their jackets and cut off a long piece. It took the last bit of your energy to tie it around your still bleeding shoulder. As your eyes began to flutter closed once again, they shot open at the sound of the door opening. You forced your head upwards and let out a faint chuckle at the familiar Red Hood that looked down at you.

"Solis!" Jason's eyes went wide as he saw the amount of blood in the room. "Shit alright. I need you to stay awake, okay?" You nodded and forced your eyes open as Jason dove down beside you, properly retying the fabric around your shoulder. Jason stared at you for a few moments before pushing himself up and firing a single shot down the hallway. You watched intently as the goons came running in, Jason plowing through them in a matter of minutes. Jason scooped you up, not bothering to try and gather any further information from you.

**

You woke up in a bed in an unfamiliar room. Your brain began piecing together the events. Jason had come to get you, then put you in a car, brought you here, sewed up the wound…you wondered how long you'd been asleep. The door creaked open and you saw both Roy and Jason standing in its frame.

"You're awake! Thank fuck, D would've killed me!" Roy rushed over and embraced you.

"Yeah probably…" You were speaking to Roy, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jason. There was something there, unspoken, that you couldn't remember. What had happened? How long had you been asleep? As if reading your mind, Jason spoke up.

"It's only been 12 hours," he watched your eyes go wide. "Before you freak out, you lost a lot of blood and were barely hanging on to consciousness. 12 hours is not that many. You'll still be weak." Jason began to step towards you but hesitated. Roy immediately noticed the awkwardness his presence brought.

"Imma just…I'll go get us some food…or something." Roy pointed towards the door and rushed out.

"I feel like I'm missing something."

"No…I just. I was worried." You leered at him, knowing that was not what you were missing. You carefully sat up and swung your legs over the bed, determined to get to the bottom of whatever feeling this was. Once you attempted to stand, Jason was at your side in a fraction of a second. "I just said you would be weak…" he mumbled out.

"Well I have to go to the bathroom and you aren't giving me answers anyways." You tried to push him away. It unsurprisingly did not work.

"How long have I known you? For once, just stop being so damn stubborn!" He grabbed your shoulders, in an effort to steady both of you.

"I dunno like 8 years…" you grumbled out, unsure if the question was meant to be answered.

"Yeah well for 7 and a half of those I've loved you. And it just hit me that you could die…hell I could I die, and you wouldn't know." His hands traced down your arms and collapsed at his side. "I guess that just broke me, okay? Are you happy now?!" The anger in his voice rose.

"So how about those pants now?" You smirked, trailing your eyes over his body. Jason's eyes lit up as he began to laugh, recalling the situation from months prior.

"Maybe not right now…let's wait until you can stand on your own."

"JUST KISS HER ALREADY GOD DAMMIT!" Roy screamed from the doorway. Neither of you knew how long he'd been there, but that didn't deter Jason. His lips smashed into yours while his arms enveloped you.

"FUCKING FINALLY!" Roy screamed as he threw his hands up in the air.

[astradrifting]

GRRM really created so many parallels and foreshadow using the DoD characters that honestly we could just figure the asoiaf ending by analyzing it. My favorite is the Aegon III-D@ny parallels, the fact that one of his closest allies was a face-scarred Master of coin Lannister who ended as Hand to Bran' parallel character just make it so obvious its funny.

Oh my god I didn’t even realise Tyland Lannister was initially on the greens’ side! I’m not super fond of Tyrion ending up as Hand, but you’re right that it’s so obviously meant to reference him. There’s so many parallels that it’s a little crazy. I don’t want to say that the second Dance will end exactly as the first did, it’d be a little too neat if history repeated entirely, but you can see so many echoes of it even in the show’s bastardised ending.

“The broken, shattered realm suffered for a while yet, but the Dance of the Dragons was done. Now what awaited the realm was the False Dawn, the Hour of the Wolf, the rule of the regents, and the Broken King.”

(TWOIAF, Aegon II)

I’m not sure what the False Dawn is going to parallel to, it refers to the period of time after Aegon II’s death but before Lord Stark got to King’s Landing, when people thought that peace had finally come. It kind of brings to mind the War for the Dawn, though personally I think that the threat of the Others will be resolved before the Dance is over. The Hour of the Wolf is obviously about House Stark’s rise back to power, and the Broken King is Bran - though if he actually becomes known as Bran the Broken I might end up committing violence ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. 

The parts about Lord Corlys Velaryon are why I’m so hopeful that Jon’s book ending will be completely different from the show’s. He’s arrested for Aegon II’s death by Cregan Stark, even though Cregan had previously declared for Rhaenyra, because as TWOIAF puts it, “to kill a cruel and unjust king in lawful battle was one thing. But foul murder, and the use of poison, was a betrayal against the very gods who had anointed him.”

Corlys didn’t deny his guilt, and expressed no regret. “What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness had to end.”

Cregan Stark declared him to be guilty of murder, regicide, and high treason, and he was sentenced to execution. But many spoke in his defence, even people who had fought against him in the Dance. Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, Corlys’ granddaughters and Aegon III’s half-sisters, convinced Aegon to issue an edict pardoning Lord Velaryon, which Alysanne Blackwood then convinced Cregan to let stand. Lord Velaryon was pardoned and even restored to his offices and honours, made one of the king’s regents and given a place on the small council.

Corlys’ words definitely could be Jon’s as well, a much more in-character declaration post-D@ny’s death than the drivel GoT tried to feed us. I was worried for a bit that this would be how Tyrion is let off scot-free, but Baela and Rhaena, who were vital to his release, are such obvious Arya and Sansa stand-ins, and they’re certainly not going to expend any effort in helping Tyrion. So Corlys’ circumstances more likely lays the groundwork for how Jon will be freed and remain in political power, while Tyland frankly inexplicably becoming Aegon III’s Hand after he was in favour of brutally killing him parallels Tyrion managing to fail up, as a way of reconciling the old regime with the new one.

This makes Tyrion becoming Hand more palatable IMO. Either Jon and Tyrion both should have been punished or neither should have been punished, not the travesty where Tyrion gets everything he’s ever wanted while Jon is exiled to a Watch with no purpose and a Wall that’s already half-collapsed, so what exactly can it protect against? I suppose they were afraid of seemingly rewarding Jon for killing d@ny, especially if pol!Jon had been revealed, but most people noticed how nonsensical his ending was, and it just led to ‘Bloodraven/Bran is the real villain’ takes anyway.

(Side note: Asha/Yara basically still being loyal to D at the end annoys me so much, and made no sense. Jon did more to help save her by giving Theon that pep talk than D@ny did. Maybe it was a leftover from her taking Victarion’s role in the story, but in no reasonable world is anyone going to listen to the Ironborn who brought the Fire threat over in the first place.)

Of course Tyland Lannister isn’t actually Hand for long, given that he dies barely two years later from Winter Fever, feared and hated, alone except for a maester and King Aegon. It might be an indication that Tyrion will face a similar fate, that he’ll die after he’s seemingly won, exactly what he threatened Cersei with:

“A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."

(ACOK, Tyrion XII)

So that I can stop talking about Tyrion, here’s some facts about Rhaena and Baela that are obviously meant to reference Sansa and Arya, so much so that it feels a little bit like GRRM is winking and going “See what I did there? Huh? Huh? Did you see??”:

- their descriptions: “Rhaena was slender and graceful; Baela was lean and quick; Rhaena loved to dance; Baela lived to ride...” + “Baela was wild and willful”, “more boyish than ladylike”, and kept her hair cropped short as a boy’s

- Rhaena spent most of the Dance in the Vale, where she lived in relative comfort as the ward of Lady Jeyne Arryn. Baela was a dragonrider and so moved between Dragonstone and Driftmark, but was captured on Dragonstone when Aegon II descended upon it

- Rhaena was favoured to be queen after her brother, considered more qualified than her wild sister

- Baela liked to spend time with “unsuitable companions” she would bring to the Red Keep - including a comely juggler, a blacksmith’s apprentice whose muscles she admired (!!!), a legless beggar, a pair of twin girls from a brothel, an entire troupe of mummers once

- After her brother’s regents tried to marry her to a lord 40 years older than her, Baela escaped the Red Keep by climbing out of a window, trading clothes with a washerwoman, then walking right out of the front gate. She ran away to Driftmark and married her supposed cousin (though more likely he was her half-uncle), the legitimised bastard Alyn Velaryon, which might have had me worried about j0nrya if Alyn weren’t best known for being a daring sailor who went on many voyages, including sailing the Sunset Sea, until he was finally lost at sea during Aegon IV’s reign. Alyn’s mother was also called Mouse, for being “small, quick, and always underfoot.”

- another fun fact about Alyn: he’s a bad haggler, and had to agree to a high ransom and many concessions in order to get Prince Viserys returned to Westeros. This automatically disqualifies him as a Jon stand-in, because as we all know, Jon Snow can haggle like the best of fishwives.

- My absolutely favourite detail that has my jonsa heart singing - Rhaena was more dutiful than her sister and would have married a man that the king and council chose, saying that as long as he was “kind and gentle and noble, I know that I shall love him.” She was able to marry her first choice, whom the regents didn’t immediately approve of but that they ultimately accepted  - Ser Corwyn Corbray, the brother of the Lord Protector of the Realm, a second son (!) whose late father had gifted him the Valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn (!!!)

And as a treat for @istumpysk, some similarities between Rickon and Viserys II!

- the youngest child of their family

- separated from their older brother after they were forced to flee their home, trying to get to safety while their other brothers and mother were at war

- worshipped their oldest (half-)brothers, but were closer to the brother nearest their age

- spends the war stuck on an island, populated by people closely linked to their family’s origins - Skagosi are descended mostly from the First Men, while Viserys was on Lys, where the blood of Old Valyria still runs strong

- sought by/held hostage by a powerful and wealthy family, who will treat them well but whose intentions are dubious

- will be brought back from exile by an upjumped bastard/commoner from a port town who was raised to lordship and became their monarch’s chief admiral

- after they are returned, long after the wars and crises, is happily welcomed as the heir to their older brother’s throne (shhhhh just let me have this, let the baby live)

Thanks for the ask!

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 34: Forever

Chapter 33

Read on AO3

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: This fic is on a very long hiatus until further notice. Please see the AO3 link for more details. Much love❤️

It was June third, the day after their eleven month anniversary. Claire couldn’t believe it; it was truly almost an entire year since that fateful Saturday at the stables. A year since their hearts and bodies had spoken what their voices dared not say.

He took her down port again, to a restaurant even more extravagant than the one they’d gone to the last time they were there. It was a glorious Saturday night, and Claire was blissfully happy.

Though something seemed off with Jamie.

His hand had done that tapping that he did when he was anxious the entire drive over, and it was his left, always his left, so she could not reach out and take it to soothe him.

“Why, you’re as nervous as you were on our first date,” she’d teased.

“Aye, well.” He’d forced a chuckle, winking at her. “It’s no’ every day ye celebrate nearly a year wi’ the woman ye love.”

She’d laughed, too, not really considering what an odd thing that was to say.

She also hadn’t considered how strange it was to go so all-out when it wasn’t actually a full year yet. She could truly only imagine how extravagant those plans would be.

And anyway…what was there to be nervous about? There wasn’t a single thing they hadn’t shared, a single thing they didn’t know about each other now. Holding his hand as they left the parking meter, strolling down the sidewalk to their reservation, his palm was as sweaty as it had been the night they’d first slept together.

Had he never eaten at this restaurant? Was he worried she wouldn’t like it?

Watching his hand jiggle at his side at a constant loop at the table, Claire put her menu down.

“Jamie. You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stiffened, reigning himself in. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’re never so out of it when we go out.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, and she almost believed him. “I’m alright.”

“You’re about to cause an earthquake with that nervous tick of yours and you expect me to believe you’re alright?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish grin, and for just a second she caught a glimpse of Jamie again, not the anxious mess she was at dinner with.

“Is something happening with your family? And you don’t want to ruin the evening by bringing it up now? Because I don’t give a damn about the evening. We can leave right now—”

“No.”

Claire jumped a little, wincing at how tightly he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered.  “I’m mucking this all up.”

“Mucking what up?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong wi’ my family. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is…perfect. My life hasna been this right since I was a bairn.”

Claire allowed a tiny smile, her eyes glimmering. “Okay,” she said softly, urging him to continue.

“That’s what has me feeling this way, I suppose. You are perfect. Our life is perfect. I suppose this big anniversary is just…I dinna ken. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Jamie…” Claire shook her head. “There is no other shoe. I’m not going anywhere. Faith is not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us, darling.”

He sighed in relief, and Claire could not comprehend that he would ever think otherwise to the point where he would feel such relief.

“Even when I’m shaking tables and sweating through shirts?”

She giggled. “Yes. Even then.”

He kissed her hand. “Good.”

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, though there was still something underlying buzzing through Jamie. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and reassure him the only way she knew how. If he kept this up, she might not be able to wait until they got home. She’d have to find a long, empty dock and drag him to the edge and kiss him senseless anywhere he wanted. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, and she wouldn’t rest until she could see that he was absolutely sure that she was his and his alone.

Forever.

They went to their usual ice cream place, and as they swapped cups and tasted each other’s, Jamie seemed to relax a little bit more, laughing, savoring the flavor like a little boy. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He took nothing for granted, not even the difference between his moose tracks ice cream and Claire’s mint chocolate chip, not even the pigeons and seagulls that watched them out of the corner of their eye the closer they got to the beach.

“I’ll unleash all my unholy power if they so much as peck this ice cream,” Claire said, eyeing a particularly nasty looking little bastard.

“Dinna fash, my lass,” Jamie said gallantly, raising his spoon like Excalibur. “No harm shall befall ye, or yer precious frozen treat. No’ so long as I’m wi’ ye.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him, then craned her neck and puckered her lips, and he obliged her, kissing her soundly.

The farther along the beach they wandered, the less and less people they encountered, and Claire began scouting locations where they could tuck themselves away for even a few moments of privacy. She certainly couldn’t fully have him here, but a few sloppy kisses and heavy touches would do the trick. Her eyes flicked to a dock with a boat on the end, no people to be found on it. She gave him a mischievous look and began tugging him toward it.

“I ken that look well enough,” Jamie said, matching her mischief. “And I’ll no’ be giving in to ye.”

She stuck out her lip in her most convincing pout. “Why ever not?”

“I dinna trust ye no’ to get us arrested for public indecency. No’ with that gleam in yer eye.”

“I’ll be good! I promise.” She stopped tugging so she could press herself flush against him, arching her back just enough that her breasts were the first thing that came in contact with him. “Come on, love…I promise I’ll behave.”

She fully expected him to grab her hips, press his hardness into her with a growl, and accept defeat.

But instead, he just grinned. Not even a smirk, a full-faced grin.

“If ye can catch me, ye can have yer way wi’ me.”

“What—?”

And then before she could blink, Jamie was running, sprinting away from her, kicking up sand in his wake.

“You bastard!”

She hiked up her skirts and chased after him as fast as her bare feet could carry her in the sand. She lost track of how long she spent going after him, but he was not relenting, not letting her catch up. They were both laughing their heads off, whooping, Claire calling after him until her voice was hoarse. He finally stopped, appearing to not be exhausted in the slightest, and she slowed herself to a jog, chest heaving and burning.

“You absolute maniac,” she panted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She was laughing as she said it, and he laughed with her, reaching out his hand and taking it when she caught up. He kissed her hand.

“My legs feel like jell-o. You’d better be planning on carrying me back.”

“Aye, of course,” he said automatically. “But I want to show ye something first.”

She cocked a brow skeptically.

“Come on.”

He tugged on her hand, and out of sheer exhaustion, she allowed him to lead the way. They were walking right to a dock, and before Claire could exasperatedly complain that she’d been trying to do the same thing before he started that marathon, she realized.

There were candles lining every step of the boardwalk, a string of lights wrapped around each wooden post along the way. Across the top was a zigzag of more lights, held in place by thin metal poles attached to the wooden posts. She hadn’t seen it, even as she was running right toward it. She’d had her eyes locked on Jamie’s bright red hair all the while, desperate to catch up to him.

“What…what is all this…?” She was still out of breath, and on top of it her breath was gone for an entirely different reason.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand laced with hers and continued walking her down to the end of the pier.

“This is beautiful…is this always here…? I don’t understand…”

A familiar humming noise took her out of her dumbstruck admiration of the twinkling beauty, and she whipped her head around. “Jamie…what…?” Squinting, Claire could make out two figures at the opposite end of the pier, and a bouncing little thing in front of them.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt him take her other hand. She turned her head to question him, but was stunned into silence by the look on his face.

He was radiant.

The string of lights painted glowing streaks in his hair and twinkled in his eyes. And God, his eyes…they were bigger than she’d ever seen; she may very well have drowned in them if he didn’t start speaking.

“Claire, I…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. The hand that was grasping hers was trembling.

“Jamie…?”

“You are…the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he continued, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand tighter. “The first time I saw ye I was…blown away by how big yer heart was. The way ye looked at Faith, the way she smiled at ye…I knew. I knew ye were special. And I didna realize at the time, but ye’d already crawled into this hole in my heart that was made for you. Both of you.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and it very suddenly hit her exactly what was happening.

“I know the pain ye’ve seen, mo ghraidh, I know the fear and doubt that plagues ye. But I…” He cleared his throat again, and then lowered himself to the ground, on one knee.

A single tear escaped Claire’s eye, trickling down as her breath hitched in her throat.

“I will never, never stop trying to be worthy of ye, Claire. I swear to ye on my life that I will be a good husband, and…a good father. You deserve to be loved beyond measure. And I…I do, mo sorcha. I love you wi’ every ounce of my being.”

Claire was fully sobbing now, and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his other hand reached into his pocket.

“So will you, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, make me the luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box, revealing the beautiful sparkling ring within. “Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Claire could not speak. She nodded vigorously, more ridiculous sobs sputtering from her. Jamie’s strained, concentrated face erupted into the most glorious smile she had ever seen. He leapt to his feet and Claire threw her arms around his neck, and he encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He exclaimed loudly in Gaelic, laughing joyously, and Claire sputtered her own laughter in between sobs.

He finally put her down, and Claire seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back passionately. When they pulled apart, Jamie was holding the ring, a small but beautiful rock set within it, and she allowed him to slip it on.

“Oh, love…” she croaked out, and he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed the ring.

Something suddenly collided with Claire’s legs, and she cried out a bit in shock. Jamie laughed again as Claire turned around and looked down to see Faith clinging to her legs. Looking up, she could now see that the figures in the distance were Gail and Joe.

“You…” She turned back to Jamie. “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Jamie just beamed at her, his eyes glistening with tears. Claire let out a joyous laugh and sank to her knees in front of Faith.

“Hello, lovie….” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, look at you…” Claire pulled back so she could see Faith, dressed in a beautiful little dress, blue and purple and frilly, white stockings and her perfect little white shoes. When she’d left her with Leina, she was still in her pajamas from the night before, and the plan had seemingly been to leave it that way.

“Look at us, hm?” Claire said, sniffling as she stroked Faith’s hair. “All dressed up? Mummy is going to be married, darling.” Claire’s voice broke, and she laughed through more tears. “See, Faith?” She held up her hand, and Faith immediately began fiddling with the rock. “This means I’m going to be a bride, baby.”

God…I can’t believe it.

A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she looked behind her to see that Jamie had crouched down beside her.

“I’ve, ehm, got something for her, too,” he said, his nervousness returning.

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst as her eyes landed on the pink velvet box in his hand.

“With yer permission, Claire…” Jamie took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’d like to ask yer daughter to let me be her father.”

Claire’s chin quivered again, her eyes immediately welling up. She nodded, swallowing thickly, and then fervently kissed Jamie’s cheek before standing up to allow him to proceed.

——

Jamie took a steadying breath before straightening himself out, getting up on his knee the way he’d just done before Claire.

“Hello, wean,” he said. She was fiddling with her skirt and twirling it back and forth, staring intently at its sparkles.

“Faith, a leannan, can ye look at my eyes?” He gently poked her chin with his finger, and she looked up, only to become enraptured by the string of lights above her head.

“D’ye like the lights, Faith?” Jamie flicked her chin with his middle finger, signing light. She giggled and snatched his hand in both of hers. “Ah, ye got me,” he teased, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I like the lights too, ye ken. Reminds me of our special day in our fairy den. D’ye remember?” She hummed a bit, freeing one of her hands from his grip to flap it, saying fairy

“Aye, that’s right. Very good, Faith.” He took her hand again in hopes of keeping her attention. “I had lots of fun that day, Faith. In fact, I have lots of fun whenever I’m with ye. Because ye’re a very special lass. D’ye ken that?”

She started fiddling with the wee hairs on his hands, giggling to herself.

“I asked yer Mummy a very important question, Faith. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife. And I gave her a special present to celebrate, a very pretty ring. D’ye like the ring?” She nodded absently, still twirling the little hairs. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I’ve got a special present fer you, too.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head up and looked at him, humming and then opening her mouth with an excited groan. Jamie chuckled softly and held the box up to her. She stroked the velvet box with her hands before pressing her cheek into it, likely enjoying its softness.

“Lovely box, is it no’?” he teased, and then gently lifted her chin to pick her head up off the box. “Let’s look inside, aye?”

Before Faith could snatch the box again or get upset, he popped it open.

“See what I’ve got for ye? Look.” He let Faith take it in her hands. “It’s a crown, see? And look what it says. F-A-I-T-H.” He signed each letter to her as he said it. “Faith. That’s yer name, aye?” She hummed, biting her lip with her smile. “Princess Faith, it says.

“D’ye ken that I love ye, Faith?” His voice got tight, his eyes welling up. “I think I fell in love wi’ you just as quickly as I did yer mam.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. He kept his hand there, cupping her cheek, as he signed I love you with his free hand. “See, a leannan? I love you.”

Faith gave a high pitched, squealing giggle, bouncing as she returned the sign. Jamie uttered a breathy laugh, a single tear trickling down his cheek. He heard a tiny sob from above him, and wasn’t surprised to feel Claire’s hand grasp his shoulder.

“Good girl, Faith,” Jamie whispered, rubbing a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “It makes me verra happy that ye love me, too.” He signed happy, smiling widely. “Are ye happy, Faith?” She hummed, jiggling her hands and nodding. “Good, good lass.” He sniffled, blinking away more tears, reaching to his own shoulder to cover Claire’s hand in his.

“I promise to always love ye, and protect ye, and do right by ye, just as I will yer mam.” He gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. “Will ye be my wee princess, Faith?” He poked a finger at the necklace, his fingertip cooling at the touch of the metal. “Will ye let me be yer Da?” He spread his fingers, poking his thumb to his forehead.

Faith hummed and jiggled a bit, but Jamie held the sign patiently. After a few seconds, she giggled, and then copied him exactly, thumb on forehead. Fingers splayed.

Da.

Jamie laughed out loud, fit to burst with joy. He released Claire’s hand to wrap his arms around his wee girl, and Joe and Gail broke into applause. He felt Claire fall to her knees beside him, and his heart cracked open to hear her openly weeping. He folded her into his embrace as well, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, fisting his jacket in one hand, caressing Faith’s curls in the other.

“Oh, Jamie…” she blubbered against his skin. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, mo chridhe. Wi’ my whole heart.”

When the three of them finally released each other from their embrace, Jamie freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around Faith’s neck. She rubbed it between her fingers, pulled it up and rubbed it on her cheek, and jiggled it in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie,” Claire breathed against his neck.

“D’ye think she likes it?”

“She does.”

“D’ye think she…understands?”

They looked at Faith for a moment, grinning from ear to ear as she fiddled with her necklace.

“I think she does.” Claire pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. “If nothing else, she knows that you love her, Jamie.” Claire met his eye and held up the sign, trembling lips curling into a smile. He repeated the sign, touching their fingers together as he’d often seen mother and daughter do, and their foreheads rested together. “And she loves you, too. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean.”

A tear slipped from Jamie’s eye and trickled down Claire’s nose, and they kissed one another sweetly, I love you’s still pressed together.

Gail and Joe suddenly got closer, calling Faith over to them. Jamie broke into a wide grin, watching from the corner of his eye; the last part of the plan was nearly complete.

“Go on, baby,” Gail said. “Go put them on, just like we practiced.”

Faith scampered back to them, bounding and skipping and squealing with glee. Jamie exchanged a look with Claire, who seemed utterly bewildered, and who somehow looked completely and utterly beautiful, even red and swollen from tears of joy.

Jamie ducked his head and allowed Faith to clumsily place the hat atop his head, and then watched as she plopped the one with the bow on Claire. Faith squealed again and jumped up and down, clapping her hands in triumph and then flapping relentlessly.

“What on Earth…?” Claire turned to look at Jamie, and then burst into laughter.

Faith had put Mickey Mouse ears on them both — well, Minnie Mouse for Claire if you accounted for the red bow.

“D’ye no’ find me rather dashing?” he teased, and Claire laughed all the harder. “Here. Look.”

Jamie removed the hat, and Claire did the same, then Jamie held them side by side. Claire exhaled with a breathy laugh, leaning her cheek into Jamie’s shoulder as she read the words that Jamie had had embroidered onto the backs, his and hers respectively:

I asked

I said yes!

[madhyanas]

there can be no oceans

It's only when the Child needs a bath that Din realises his ship doesn't have one.

Read this on AO3!

Characters: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): One mention of ‘spice’ as a drug. Set sometime soon after Chapter 4: Sanctuary. No spoilers for S2.

Notes: i! want! to write! more! character fics! so take this. thank you @pettyprocrastination for taking the time to read this beforehand <3

masterlist

———

The Crest wasn’t built for children.

Her walkways are narrow, interiors unpainted. Any room not taken up by essential utilities has long since been repurposed for weapons and munitions storage. There are no rounded corners, no softened edges; there is no baby-proofing to speak of. A capsule of robust, sturdy durasteel hurtling through the galaxy.

As reliable as she is, especially in the hands of Din’s capable piloting, the bare minimum the Crest offers to any inhabitants at all is an absence of jagged scrap metal jutting out to be slashed on. Which is as close to a miracle as he’s going to get, considering his ship’s survived being taken apart and stitched back together again.

Sometimes the visor’s sight catches on a slivered scar. The junction between the cockpit and ladder, the panel next to the hatch. He’ll look at it for a second, bumpy and gnarled, remembering the Crest’s shell scattered in pieces across desert rock. He’ll remember his ship, peeled to bits without mercy. Then he’ll brush his fingers over the soldered mark, and walk away.

But despite everything, the Crest is comfortable; Din can admit that her resilience, outlasting her age, is something he’s grown attached to. And when it comes to the very, very mundane, the kid seems to have pretty good instincts — doesn’t dangle over heights, doesn’t stick his hands into sockets and plug ports. His ship, in and of itself, doesn’t pose a threat to the little one. So long as he’s not left in the cockpit unsupervised.

It’s a minor weight off his shoulders that the kid’s content to amuse himself with that gear knob, occasionally gurgling commentary to Din — who has found “Is that so, kid?” to suffice as proof that he’s listening — and offering a satisfied, toothy grin. This is typically the point that Din feels his mouth pulling up into a crinkling smile, fond and proud.

It reminds him of something Omera told him in passing. Din hadn’t understood the phrase at the time, hadn’t ever needed to apply it in his day-to-day.

“You’re lucky,” she’d said knowingly. “He’s an easy baby.”

Thinking of mudhorns and mudjumpers and the kid’s inability to follow instructions, Din didn’t think it made much sense. He understands it now.

But, no — the Razor Crest, being a gunship and not a nanny droid, was not constructed for childcare. In all honesty, this hadn’t really occurred to Din beyond the obvious.

Until the kid needed a bath.

A bath that his ship does not have.

Din sighs, standing in the refresher doorway and staring at the slim sonic shower compartment. The Child waddles in curiously behind him, leaning on his boot with both arms hugging the ankle. He coos up at Din questioningly. There’s a slight twitch of his ears before he raises his arms. Two chubby fists clench and unclench repeatedly, a familiar demand.

Din promptly bends down to pick him up, angling him face forwards to stare at the offending compartment together.

“It’s a sonic shower,” Din explains. He frowns, wondering how to go about this. The kid smacks his lips idly. “Don’t think it’s meant for kids, buddy.”

Those wide, dark eyes suddenly turn to him with hope, but Din’s already shaking his head. “No.”

The kid blinks, multiple times. Din could swear the little monster’s batting his eyelashes. “No. You still need a bath, you’re not getting out of it that easy.”

In his arms, the kid deflates with a huff. His ears droop so quickly they bat against Din’s chest and quiet grumbles buzz through the cloth of his shirt.

It makes Din smile, part-amused and part-relieved. He’s never been very good at the whole ‘disciplinarian’ thing, especially not with a kid that can move things with his mind. It’s difficult to tell where to draw the line between kind and disapproving. He’s probably leaning more into the former.

“We’ll just have to… figure something out.”

He glances to the left. The sink is built into the wall, a nondescript metal bowl with a drain and tap. Din avoids looking at the mirror above. After so many years under the helmet, it doesn’t necessarily feel surreal. It’s simply odd to have visual confirmation of what he looks like.

The kid squirms in his arms, and Din blinks, slowly placing him back on the ground. He shuffles out of the ‘fresher quickly to whichever corner he’s chosen to play in today, his stuffy brown robe dragging slightly on the ground. Maybe that needs to be looked at.

Din looks back to the sink, figuring something out.

———

For all intents and purposes, the sonic shower is useful. Or perhaps that isn’t the right word, considering it just does what it’s supposed to.

It’s efficient, then. A way for Din to stay clean without worrying about the ship’s current water capacity. Whether it’s actually pleasant or not is another question, but one that’s never been important enough to be asked.

Now, though, Din thinks he’ll need to find a more permanent solution.

The sink in the ‘fresher has its own water supply, true. But it’s enough for Din to wash his hands and shave every few weeks at most. Since the New Republic started cracking down on smuggling circuits, the price of water transportation fit for hyperspace has spiked. A popular medium for diluted spice, apparently. So he’s careful with how much he uses up, wary of the ever-dwindling pile of credits to his name.

He kneels down next to the sink, craning his head to check behind a panel and exhaling sharply with the protesting ache of his neck. It’s a small slot for a liquid tanker, and Din soon realises it won’t be enough to fill a cup, much less the whole basin.

It won’t work.

———

This brings him to the next idea. Somewhat quickly, because the kid seems to have gotten into his head that no water means no bath. That’s probably bad handling on Din’s part.

There are sealed tanks of water stored in a hull compartment. Bulk-purchased and potable, for prolonged journeys and adverse conditions. Tanks that he’s loath to crack open when there’s water available elsewhere.

He lugs one into the fresher, and when he feels his lower back twinge with the effort, he makes sure to bear the brunt of the weight with his legs. Then his knees begin to strain. He sighs.

He passes by the kid on the way, sitting on the floor and gnawing on his metal ball with intense focus and adoration. He looks up at the sound of Din approaching, tilting his head sweetly at the tall canister.

Din takes it as a question, so he answers. “No idea, kid.”

When he does, finally, manage to shove the tank in the refresher and pour as much of it as he can into the sink’s water supply tube, the Child follows. His head turns from the half-empty tank, to Din, and back to the tank. As the ears swish with every movement, like palm leaves twitching and swaying in the breeze, Din watches the gears turn patiently. It’ll click.

Then the kid thwacks a hand on Din’s thigh, and very insistently garbles something with a firm nod. His approval is understood.

Din smiles. Lets it linger on his face, melt in his chest so warmly he can nearly ignore his aching joints. Gently, he places a hand on the little one’s head, rubbing the spot between his ears and eliciting a fond coo. “Thanks.”

———

That good mood doesn’t last very long when the kid realises, eventually, that bath time has arrived.

———

A tragic wail cuts through the Razor Crest.

From where he’s held over the ‘fresher sink, the kid screeches in Din’s hands, kicking his little legs in the air and keeping a vice grip on Din’s sleeves. Even the ears — those huge, petal bat-ears — are wiggling up and down in his efforts to escape.

“Hey,” Din says. He tries for stern, but it comes out mostly tired. “Hey. Stop that.”

The kid is either ignoring him, or just can’t hear it over the racket he’s making. He scrunches his eyes closed with newfound vigour and shrieks so loud it rings in Din’s ears. He winces.

The Crest’s refresher is built into a cramped corner of the hull. Fitted with a sonic shower, privy, sink and mirror, Din’s fairly certain there are graves dug bigger than this.

It’s never mattered before, since Din spends so little of his time in here anyway, but now he’s stuck in a broom closet — a metal one, with solid, echoing walls — with a screaming child.

Din sighs, with feeling. His headache, which hasn’t let up since the jump into hyperspace, throbs heavily behind his eyes and between his ears. For a second, he toys with the idea of turning off the helmet’s auditory sensors.

The kid had more or less been fine at first. From filling the sink to fetching the soap — a standard, unscented brand that Din only really stores for handwashing — to barely managing to tug his robe over those oversized ears. The kid had insisted on doing that last one himself, until he’d stumbled with the shift in centre of gravity and bowled himself over.

He’d been fine, until his stubby, clawed toes first dipped in the water.

It’s remarkable, Din realises as he looks down at the distraught child dangling from his hands. The kid hasn’t really cried for… for anything till now. At the most, Din just gets a dry, unamused look whenever he hasn’t followed the little overlord’s express wishes. Like eating wild frogs off the ground. Womp rat.

Hearing the repercussions now, it might not have been remarkable so much as just lucky. How does one so small have lungs so strong?

“All right,” Din calls. Trying to be gentle yet also heard over the noise at the same time is a challenge, so it comes out somewhat choked.

At his voice, the kid takes a breather. Literally, his round body heaves in Din’s hands, gasping for breath after his tantrum. Din eyes the tear tracks streaming from his wide, dark eyes, and his sniffling little nose. He can feel the kid’s ribcage pushing in and out rapidly beneath his fingers, stretchy like a balloon fitting in the palm of his hand. He hadn’t forgotten how tiny the kid is but — a lump settles in his throat at the reminder.

He feels his face fall. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, unsure of what he’s pleading for but feeling as if he’s wronged the Child anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would upset you so much.”

Whether it’s his tone or the words themselves, something brings the kid to peace. Though still hiccuping, his breathing evens out.

“That’s it,” Din encourages. “Deep breaths.”

He inhales, lifting his head and shoulders slightly with the movement to demonstrate, before lowering on the exhale.

The Child watches him for a moment, blinking wetly, before doing the same. His ears perk up and down with every breath. “That’s it,” Din repeats.

When he’s reasonably sure the Child won’t start bawling again, Din takes a second to rearrange the kid into sitting balanced on his forearm, facing him towards the mirror. With the other hand rubbing circles into the kid’s back, he addresses the reflection.

“Listen,” he starts seriously. The kid looks up, watching the helmet in the mirror’s shiny surface. “I get that you don’t like it. And I’m sorry I upset you. But you need a bath, so we have to figure something out.”

Din swallows, wondering how they’re going to do just that. The kid, in the meantime, clutches the shirt of Din’s sleeve in two grubby claws and starts chewing, not taking his eyes off the helmet for a second.

Just as he’s about to ask the kid to stop, or at least lay off a little so the fabric doesn’t tear, he gets an idea.

———

In the recent past, Din can’t really remember when things last went his way. So he’s almost confused when the third time really is the charm.

“That’s all it took, huh?”

The kid happily ignores him, watching the gear knob through the shallow, mildly-soaped water with fascination. He stares straight down, his ears sticking up like fresh reeds from a pond, enamoured with the sight of his favourite thing underwater. The concentration he uses to roll it around with both hands softens the corners of Din’s mouth.

You’d never guess the little womp rat was raising hell just minutes before.

Fetching the gear knob from outside was a last resort. He’d been grasping at straws, willing to take anything that would calm the kid down.

And it worked. Leading Din to scrub the bar of soap between his hands, trailing suds through the clouding water.

The temperature suits the kid just fine, apparently. With no way to heat the basin, Din had just… waited for it to get more or less lukewarm. Not ideal, not by a long shot. He’d clenched his jaw, uncomfortable and awkward in the face of yet another reminder that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Standing around doing nothing didn’t sit well with him. At one point he half-seriously considered getting the flamethrower out to speed things along.

But the Child, naturally, didn’t seem to mind. He now slaps his hands into his bird-bath pool with delight, relishing in the waves he can create. The pale, fuzzy hairs on that wrinkly head don’t so much as twitch, and Din has to wonder if the kid’s leathery skin has something to do with that tolerance.

A bubble wobbles into the air, fragile and translucent. A dark, watery gaze snaps to it immediately — the kind of precision only reserved for mudjumpers. The kid stills, and the gear knob is momentarily forgotten in favour of biting through the air to catch the floating parlour trick between sharp, pointy teeth.

Pop. Smack on the kid’s mouth. A light burst of soap residue sprays on the kid’s face, and the squeak of a sneeze he lets out pushes him an inch backwards in the basin.

Din can’t imagine how a thing could be that tiny.

“Nice job,” he offers quietly, because a successful hunt is something to be praised. He gives the kid’s face a once-over — with eyes so big, it’s impressive that the soap missed them entirely. The kid whines disagreeably; he evidently doesn’t care much for the flavour. His button nose wrinkles, and he bounces again with a cough.

Din chuckles. The sound rings in time with water sloshing over the lip of the sink.

“Maybe save the hunting for outside,” he advises, patting the kid on the back. The Child looks up at him mournfully, as if to agree, before returning to the gear knob resting by his foot. A new game is begun; shoving the metal ball so that it rolls halfway up the sink’s bowl before returning straight back, like magic. Every metallic scrape brings a new ripple of laughter.

He should be more mindful of how there’s more water on the floor than in the basin, now. But there are always more tanks in the brig.

In a series of excited, comprehensive babbles, the kid begins explaining the rules of his new game to Din, who listens closely. He interjects here and there to show the kid as much, but is otherwise just a spectator to the kid’s lecture.

Then for a moment, without thought, he looks up. Straight ahead, into the mirror. And he almost can’t recognise the sight.

It’s his helmet, obviously. Comforting; beskar gleaming as much as the day it was first given to him. Unchanged. Same height, same clothes.

But his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, baring inches of skin and several wiry scars. The front of his dark, woven shirt is darker still with the water lapping over the sink’s edge, a sodden patch forming over his abdomen. He feels some of it drip onto his boots and the floor. His hands are covered in suds, tenderly but thoroughly scrubbing the edge of one floppy green ear.

The kid, sitting satisfied and unaware with his cherished toy, makes the image look complete.

Din looks at the man in the mirror, giving his son a bath in the sink. He thinks that his image probably needed a reset anyway.

Then, with something caring and delicate fluttering in his chest, he moves on to the baby’s claws. He makes sure to scrub between the fingers.

———

[drabbles-mc]

I Like Me Better

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from Anon: Hi! If you’re doing requests can I get a short fic based on the song I like me better by Lauv with Nestor🥺

Part 2 can be found Here

Warnings: language, lots of softness and pining

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: (I know I’ve posted this story like 5 times today alone. So sorry to everyone who has been getting bombarded with it while I figure out my posting/tagging issues. Love y’all and I owe you xo) This story definitely took on a life of its own once I sat down and started writing it. I love me some Soft Nestor and the whole “almost relationship” type of deal. Hope you enjoy!

General Mayans Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​  @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @garbinge​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​

You were laughing as you watched snowflakes get stuck in Nestor’s facial hair and braids as he talked to you on the phone. Ever since you moved, the two of you had one weekly scheduled phone call, and one video chat. No matter what either of you were doing, you always made time for those two things. Even if for the rest of the week you didn’t really get to talk to each other, you always had those two things.

When Nestor said he was going to have to talk to you on the go before he called, you didn’t expect it to be quite so literal. You figured maybe he’d be driving, but wherever he was, he was walking, and it was snowing. He didn’t look thrilled about either of those things.

“I’m not made for the fucking snow,” he was trying to sound annoyed but you could see the laughter building up inside him.

“Good thing you didn’t move with me to New York then,” you laughed as you watched him brush snowflakes off of his eyelashes, “You’d never last out here.”

“Why would you voluntarily put up with this every year?”

“It’s pretty when you’re not being a baby about it,” you laughed, “Where did Miguel send you anyway?”

“Into the cold, that’s where,” he kept a serious expression for a moment before laughing.

“Next time you wanna experience the cold, come do it with me! My door is always open.”

“You’re the only person worth braving this shit for, Y/N,” he chuckled.

“Well,” you smiled at him from the warmth and comfort of your couch, “me and Miguel, apparently.” There was a knock at your door and you sighed, “Hold on a sec, I gotta grab that,” you got up and walked over to the door.

When you unlocked and pulled the door open, the phone dropped from your hands as you took in the sight of Nestor standing on your front step. You squealed, throwing your arms around him in a hug that swept you off the ground. He laughed as he held you tight against him.

He gently set you back down, making sure that your feet didn’t land in the snow on your steps, or on top of your discarded phone, “I told you, you’re the only one worth braving this shit for.”

“I can’t believe you’re really here!” without thinking better of it, you reached and cupped his face in your hands, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he was actually standing right there in front of you. He let out a slight shiver and it snapped you back to the situation at hand. You laughed as you waved him inside, “Shit, come inside. Get out of the cold.”

You grabbed your phone off the ground before you shut and locked the door behind the both of you, mind reeling from the fact that Nestor was at your house. You’d been back home to visit a couple times since you moved away, but he’d never made the trek to New York. You couldn’t blame him—you knew what his life with Galindo was like. You were surprised that he was able to be that far away from the family without it causing some kind of issue.

“What brings you out my way?” you took his coat from him and hung it up, chuckling as the snow fell off of it onto the floor.

“You,” he replied, looking up at you with a smile as he took his shoes off, “I wanted to see you, and not just through a phone screen.”

His words made your entire body feel warm. You motioned for him to follow you into the kitchen, nodding towards the counter for him to sit while you got the both of you a cup of coffee. He needed it more to warm up than anything else. He looked around your house with an approving smile. You’d given him the video tour after you had moved all of your stuff in, but it looked so much better in person. It felt so homey. Your walls were covered with photographs and artwork that you’d brought from home. Nestor smiled to himself when he saw that he’d made it up on the wall in a few pictures, along with the rest of your family and friends back in California.

You set the hug down in front of him, and he chuckled when he saw I ❤ NY printed on the side of it. He cupped his hands around it, letting the warmth seep into his fingers from the ceramic, “Fitting.”

You sipped from your own mug with a smile, “Gotta manifest it, Nes.”

The two of you existed in silence for a minute while he thawed out. You watched him as he looked around your small home. It wasn’t much, especially compared to the homes of all the people in his circles back in California, but it was yours and you loved it. You had never been someone who needed much. You just needed to feel comfortable and safe, and this house did more than just that for you.

You noticed him staring at the photos on the walls and the fridge, and you smiled. A little bit of weight settled over your heart as you watched him study them, knowing that he was looking at the ones of the two of you. It was all bittersweet to look back on. The two of you hadn’t ever dated, but you danced around the outskirts of it for a long time. There were times when the lines felt a little fuzzy, but nothing ever really happened. You were best friends, and you knew that he’d do anything for you, and you for him. But the timing was just never quite right, life was just never quite calm enough to try and make it work.

When you had told him that you had accepted a job offer on the other side of the country, he was trying so hard to be happy for you, but it wasn’t easy. You were a port in the storm for him, and he had no idea what he was going to do without you around. But he was supportive. He helped you pack, scrolled through apartment and housing listings with you, and found the best deal on a plane ticket. He never let you see how much it had hurt him—those were feelings that he processed in private. He’d thought about coming out to visit you every day since you left, but he worried that if he did, he wouldn’t come back home.

Before either of you could spiral too far into the past, you spoke up with a smile, “So, how long are you in town for?” he didn’t have any bags, so you assumed that he couldn’t be in town for long.

“I’m not sure,” he rested a hand on the back of his neck, “Told Mikey I needed to take some time. And this was the first place I thought to come to.”

You couldn’t hide your surprise—work had always been a priority for Nestor. Miguel was at the forefront of his decisions, always. “Really?” you raised your eyebrows, “You…you can take a leave of absence with…what you do?” you couldn’t quite wrap your head around it.

He shrugged, “Apparently,” he chuckled, “He said alright. So, here I am.”

You could feel that it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, so you let the topic drop, “Well, you know you’re more than welcome to stay for however long you want to. Although your lack of luggage is a little concerning.”

He laughed, “Got lost in the shuffle. Airline said they’ll mail it here.”

You shook your head, unable to contain your laughter, “Damn, that sucks. Welcome to New York.”

You were on the opposite side of the counter from him, leaning forward onto it, propped up by your elbows. The two of you started to catch up about things that slipped from your minds when you called each other. He told you about some of the chaos that he wasn’t allowed to say over an unsecure phoneline. You listened intently, fighting the urge to reach out and entwine your fingers with his. Everything felt so right with him there with you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled as he took another sip of his coffee, “I don’t mean to do all the talking. I’ve just…I’ve missed having you to talk to.”

You nodded, “I know the feeling,” you drummed your fingers on the surface of the counter, “Well, now that you’re here, normally I’d say we should go do touristy things. But something tells me you’ve had your required dose of snow for the day?”

He laughed, “What’ve you got in mind?”

You shook your head, “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. I’m sure you’ve had a long enough day. We can camp out at least until your luggage gets here. Or I can take you shopping, whichever you prefer.”

He smiled at you, “I think I’m alright with staying in.”

“That’s what I figured,” you chuckled, “Well, I was not expecting company. I’m assuming you’ll be alright with ordering in?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I know this really great Chinese place. Their wonton soup is…perfection.”

The two of you made your way to your living room and sprawled onto the couch. You leaned up against Nestor’s side as you got your phone out to place the order. You picked a few things that you wanted to eat before handing it to him so he could pick stuff as well. While he was looking through the menu, you turned on the television and pulled the blanket off the back of your couch so it covered the both of you.

Nestor handed your phone back to you so you could place the order. He’d hardly noticed how you tucked the both of you in. He smiled as he rested his arm against your side, hand brushing lightly against your stomach.

“Is this…”

“I decided last week that I was going to rewatch all of Law & Order SVU from the very beginning,” you laughed.

He shook his head with a laugh, “Do you have a moral objection to happy shows or…?”

“It’s a good show!” you snuggled into him a little more.

“What has New York done to you?”

You smiled and shook your head, “Given me time to do shit like this.”

“You like it here though?” his eyes were watching the television, but one hand was gently massaging circles into the side of your neck.

“Yea, I do. It’s a nice change of pace—I think it was the right move for me,” you glanced up at him and smiled, unbelievably happy about the fact that he was really laying on your couch in New York with you. Never in a million years did you think that would happen.

Once the food got there the two of you switched up your positions a little bit. The TV was still on but neither of you were paying attention to it. You were each sitting cross-legged facing each other on the couch. You were laughing as you watched him fumble with his chopsticks. You had forks, obviously, but it was a matter of pride whenever you two ate together because he knew that you were extremely good at using them and he didn’t want to be left out.

“Almost two years since we got Chinese together and you didn’t use any of that time to teach yourself how to use chopsticks?”

He chuckled as he struggled with his noodles, “Didn’t make it to the top of my priority list, I apologize.”

“I’ll teach you before you leave. Way better than taking back a cheesy souvenir,” you smiled at him as you picked up a piece of chicken.

As the night wore on, your coffee table became covered in takeout food boxes, and a couple empty bottles of wine that the two of you had managed to drink your way through. You were sprawled across his lap, wine glass lightly hanging from your fingertips as you rambled on about what you had been up to since you moved. Nestor couldn’t take his eyes off of you, soaking up the fact that he was able to be so close to you.

“I’ve missed you,” you veered off your current story completely as you felt the warmth from his hand soak into your leg.

He looked at you, laughing quietly at the sudden admission, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Were you ever mad at me for leaving?”

He shook his head, no hesitation in his answer at all, “Of course not,” he studied your face, the way your skin glowed whenever you drank, the way your eyes got a little glassy when you had more than just one glass of wine, “Doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you, though.”

You hummed in quiet contentment as he reassuringly rubbed his hand up and down your leg, “I think about you all the time.”

His hand stilled for a moment and you were afraid that maybe you were saying too much. Maybe the reason that things worked so well was because everything was in limbo. Before you could worry too much he gave your leg a light squeeze, “I think about you too.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, resituating yourself so that your head was resting against his chest. It was hard to focus on much of anything when all you could think about was the way your body was pressed up against his. The steadiness of his breathing felt like the only thing that was still grounding you. Your entire body felt warm from the wine, but deep down you knew it was more than just that.

“If you’re tired,” he spoke up after a few minutes of silence, “you can go to bed. Don’t exhaust yourself on my account,” there was a smile on his face.

You stretched, fighting back a yawn, “Come with me,” you sat upright and looked over at him, “I won’t lie to you, my guest room is empty because I have been putting off buying furniture for it,” you chuckled, “And my bed is way more comfortable than the couch, believe me.”

“Yea,” he nodded, his voice soft as he bit back a laugh, “okay.”

He followed you up the stairs and into your room, looking around the house as he did. It was hard for him to wrap his head around what your life was like now that you were so far away from everything that you had grown up with, everyone you had grown up with. It seemed like you had created such a cozy little life for yourself, and it couldn’t help but to think that you might never have had that if you hadn’t taken the plunge to move across the country.

“Don’t mind the clothes,” you apologized as you flicked on the light to your bedroom, “I promise they’re clean—I just hate folding laundry.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “It’s fine.”

You changed into a baggy long-sleeve shirt and a pair of shorts, immediately crawling underneath your blankets. You nestled back against your pillow and looked over at Nestor, who was unbuttoning his shirt, eyes cast down at the floor.

You were lying on your side, scrolling on your phone when you felt the mattress dip as Nestor climbed into bed beside you. He pulled the blanket up over himself and rolled onto his side so he could look over at you. You looked up from your phone, a smile starting to take over your features as you took in how close he was to you. You set your phone off to the side and rested your cheek against the palm of your hand.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” you said with a laugh.

“Give it a couple days,” he joked, “Soon you’ll be begging for me to go back home.”

You snuggled closer to him, resting your face against his chest, “I doubt it.”

You woke up the next morning to the feeling of Nestor’s arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you snug against his chest. Taking a slow, deep bre ath you took in the fact that this was really happening. He shifted slightly, arms squeezing you for a moment before he settled back into his sleep. The selfish part of you never wanted him to go home because you would love to wake up like this every morning. The warmth trapped underneath the blanket made you forget about the fact that there was a considerable amount of snow covering the ground outside.

You let your eyes close again as you focused on the steady beat of his heart. You slowly slid your legs and tangled them up with his. A few moments later you felt his fingers sliding lightly up and down your back. You glanced up at him and smiled when you saw that his eyes were still closed, but there was a peaceful smile on his face. You don’t ever remember seeing him so calm, so relaxed.

“Good morning,” he mumbled as he pressed his hand flat against your back, pushing you against him.

You chuckled as you rested your hands against his chest, “Good morning. You sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” he finally opened his eyes, “like a fucking rock,” he laughed.

You smiled up at him, “Good.”

The two of you laid there, soaking up the quiet peacefulness of the morning. You hadn’t woken up wrapped up in someone’s arms in a very long time, and there was something about the clinginess of Nestor’s grasp that told you he was in the same boat. You smiled to yourself as you felt his fingers lazily massaging between your shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come visit sooner,” he said.

You pulled back away from him so you could get a better look at his face, “You don’t have to be sorry—I know your life doesn’t make it easy. It’s hard to find the time.”

“I should’ve made the time.”

“Nes, don’t—”

He cut you off as he shook his head, “I’m not trying to make excuses. I know that I should’ve come out to see you. I just, I knew that it was going to be hard to convince myself to go back home once I did. I like me so much better when I’m with you,” he gently cupped your face in his hand.

You rested your hand over his, “Well, I like you all the time,” you smiled, “And no matter what, I’ll always be here whenever you need a break to recharge and get away from everything for a little while. But listen,” you waited for him to look at you, “don’t spend all of your time here thinking about the fact that you think you should’ve made it out here sooner. None of that matters. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

He rested his forehead against yours, “See? That’s what I mean—how am I supposed to go back home after that?” you could see the hint of a smile on his face.

You laughed, “Just remember how much you hate the snow. Short vacations out this way will be just right for you.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Yea, maybe.”

You gave his hand a light squeeze, “C’mon, let’s go make breakfast and see if your luggage will come in today or if I get to take you shopping.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, “Can’t wait for that.”

You flung the blanket off the both of you and hopped out of bed. Walking around to Nestor’s side, you held out your hands and pulled him up, laughing as he exaggeratedly stumbled into you and wrapped you in a hug. Your laughter was muffled against his chest but he reveled in the way it all felt.

While you were measuring out grounds into the coffee maker, you saw Nestor out of the corner of your eye looking through your fridge, trying to see what he could salvage to make breakfast with. You smiled to yourself as you set the pot to brew. You leaned back against the counter and watched him pulling things out from the drawers of your refrigerator.

“Playing chef today?” you asked with a smile.

“Better me than you,” he laughed.

You feigned offence, “Excuse you, I am an amazing cook.”

He smiled as he set everything out on the counter, “You are, but I’m better.”

“But I’m better,” you mocked with a laugh, “Cocky.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“How long did you say you were staying again?” you laughed.

“At least until I learn how to use chopsticks,” he chuckled as he looked through your cabinets for a frying pan, “So it might be a while.”

You couldn’t make yourself take your eyes off him, “Good.”

He heard the softness in your tone and looked over at you from his food prep on the counter. He smiled, tilting his head slightly as if to ask if there was something that you wanted to say. You shook your head with a small smile before walking over and wrapping your arms around his middle, the side of your face resting against his back. You didn’t know how long he was going to be staying, but you knew that regardless you were going to be making the most of it.

[shakey-hands]

Hi hi!! I LOVED your fic about Ranpo and Fukuzawa, it was wonderful❤️ And I adored your writing style as well, I really hope you’ll continue writing~

I’d love to see a Kunikida x Fem!Reader where the reader is dating Kunikida for a few years and one day, a client comes and starts flirting heavily with the reader and Kunikida decides to make him understand that she has a boyfriend. (I’m so sorry I just love these healthy jealousy dynamics hehe)

sooo i’m ngl, i love kunikida :) i haven’t finished season 3, i’m waiting for my semester to end before i do. i did take some artistic liberties with this so i hope you like it :)

tw: dazai osamu and men (and slight cursing).

---

It was annoying how sunny the day was. Kunikida’s eyes squinted as he added no sunglasses to his ongoing list of why the day was not ideal. First, he woke up late. His eyes had opened to his very loving girlfriend promising to see him at lunch and giving him a kiss on the head before heading to her job. Then, his coffee was cold, making him reheat it in the microwave that then caused the coffee to get everywhere inside. There was no time to clean it up, meaning he would have to figure out how to get the stains out before his girlfriend came home to the mess. It was not like she wouldn’t mind helping him, but Kunikida was in one of his stages where he had to be perfect for her.

Kunikida had showed up to work five minutes late due to some idiot (see: Dazai) holding up traffic to dramatically propose to some random girl in the middle of the street so they could commit suicide together. The crowd had loved it, but the girl had not. Then, Kunikida was slammed with a lot of paperwork all the way until thirty minutes before his lunch. Of course most of the paperwork was just Kunikida fixing other people’s paper work. That one hour of seeing Y/N had the potential to flip his entire day. The bespectacled man looked forward to awkwardly holding Y/N’s hand while they ate the bento boxes she made the night before on a random bench at a park. And yes it was awkward, he never could get the right pressure down, making him either barely hold her hand or squeezing it. It had been years since he started holding her hand, but he never got it down.

That finally leads to one of the worst surprises. Dazai had forgotten to tell Kunikida about an appointment with a client that was fifteen minute before lunch. While this wouldn’t be a big deal, the client needed to meet at the park for lunch and Kunikida did not know how long the meeting would be. Since moving in together in their second year, Y/N and Kunikida had agreed to keep their work lives separate from their home life. That meant that Kunikida could not bring a client to their lunch date. While Y/N was the epitome of kindness and being homey, once she set a boundary she had set it. This was part of why Kunikida loved her so much. However, he was now checking his phone every couple minutes to see if she had responded to his text about lunch.

‘Meeting came up, might be late.’

Vague? Yes. But Kunikida knew she would understand. Hopefully, Y/N would take her time and arrive later than planned. She had a habit of literally stopping to smell the flowers in the park.

The client had been speaking for a long duration, talking about how some thugs were ruining the park's atmosphere and how his grandchildren frequented this place all the time. He was small and had comically large glasses. His hands were folded over one another on top of his cane as he rested on a park bench across the park from Kunikida’s spot with Y/N. Kunikida did not see why the agency was taking this case on. He had gotten a message from Fukuzawa that it was important, but no details as to why. This was a police matter, not something the agency needed to add to its plate. Especially when more pressing jobs needed their attention. The old man spoke slowly, not paying much mind to anything else.

Kunikida’s phone dinged and he couldn’t help looking at it right away.

‘Is this your way of telling me you need to cancel?’

Y/N was just giving him a hard time. She took joy in messing with him, knowing that Kunikida was up tight and would probably freak out. He could vividly see her lips stretch into a teasing smile. All he was missing was the soft kiss on the cheek Y/N always gave him to make up for being mean. She would always pull him down by his tie, gripping it tightly. Dazai had gripped his tie the same way once, and ended up with an earful of colorful words and an official complaint against him. Kunikida let Y/N get away with so much, and he would continue to. He was so in love with his girlfriend of three years.

“Sir, is there an emergency?”

Kunikida snapped out of his daydreams of how Y/N cradled his face whenever they kissed. The client was staring up at him, an eyebrow slightly raised. At the other end of the bench, Dazai snapped his head towards them. He stopped singing the annoying song that had played on the radio that had gotten stuck in both his and Kunikida’s heads. A sly smirk took over his head and slid down the bench towards the client.

“Kunikida,” Dazai said with a wagging finger. “You’re blushing. Were you thinking of a certain little lady in a compromising position?”

Kunikida felt his face heat up. He definitely had not even thought of his girlfriend in that way where other people could perceive him. Especially not during work hours. Kunikida was very private about things like that and so was Y/N. Kunikida started to sputter about, completely appalled by Dazai bringing that up in front of a client. The client looked confused, not knowing what was going on. Dazai let out a loud laugh and began to tease Kunikida more.

* * *

Across the park, Y/N walked up to their spot. She was dressed in her uniform, tired of having to deal with picky clients of her own. Two bento boxes were balanced in her hands, both very similar in food, but different in preferences. Kunikida’s was healthier, with a small salad with various vegetables. Y/N’s had a small slice of the cake she had baked them that week and more fruit. She always woke up early to make them lunch. It was one of the few ways she took care of her loving boyfriend that he found to be quite endearing. Well, he found anything she did endearing, but there were some things that especially made his heart race.

Another example was that she wore the stupid little children’s bracelet he had won her from their first date every day. Due to his nervousness, Kunikida had been convinced by Atsushi and Kenji that he should bring her to the fair the agency was going to. Of course it was for a client, but it had slipped Kunikida’s mind when he first saw Y/N’s smile as he offered (awkwardly and properly of course) to hold her hand so they wouldn’t get lost. While at first it was very practical to not get lost in the crowd, Kunikida did not have to convince himself that the warmth of her hand was something he wanted more of. He was smitten from the beginning, and now he couldn’t imagine a life without her.

Their bench was unoccupied, like always. She sat down, crossing her ankles and casually looking around. It was a nice day, with clouds covering the sun and a soft breeze. A large tree provided extra shade, and if you looked closely, there was a small heart with both Kunikida and her initials carved into one of the large roots. It had happened one night where both had a little too much to drink, but the next morning Kunikida was freaking out over it. Y/N loved their spot.

As her eyes casually drifted over the park, a familiar trench coat caught her eyes. Dazai was draped over a bench, paying no mind to the old man sitting beside him. Standing with his back facing towards her, Kunikida had his weight shifted to one leg and his arms crossed. Y/N smiled at the sight of her boyfriend. His whole body was tense and she knew Dazai was probably giving Kunikida a hard time by the smirk on Dazai’s face. It had taken Y/N a while to get used to Dazai, but now she could smile with appreciation. The two balanced one another, and Y/N was completely aware that if it weren’t for Dazai’s softening of her boyfriend, they would have never gotten together.

Y/N was too much in her head to see the handsome man coming towards her. He had his eyes set on her silky hair and sparkling eyes. The man had been out for his daily run before he met his grandfather and just happened to see the pretty girl on the bench from across the way. Although it was not his usual running path, the man couldn’t help but switch it up. The closer he got, the more he realized how easily he could fall in love with her. As he slowed down, he noticed how she was lost in the scenery of the park.

“So, you come here often?”

Her head turned, unsure about what she was about to look at. Y/N was not impressed by the man in front of her. Though every man seemed to be paled in comparison to her boyfriend. The man in front of her was buff and looked like he was on a run. He was attractive, with high cheekbones and plump lips, but Y/N was not interested. One of her eyebrows quirked up.

“I suppose.” There was an uncertain edge to her voice, hoping he would get the hint.

Instead, the man hiked his foot up on the opposite corner of the bench, flexing in a very obvious way that he was trying to be subtle. “Yeah, I was just on my daily run. I work out a lot, mainly in nature, but don’t turn down any gym days when they come up. Those are rare though. I have a job that keeps me busy. You know, you don’t earn 200 million yen in a year by just sitting on your ass. I mean, sure I take nice vacations to my beach house every once in a while-”

His boasting could be heard from across the park. Which of course caught Dazai’s attention when he saw who the guy was talking to. It was as if God had set up a perfect day for Dazai to have. He hoped Kunikida would explode. The client was very boring and Dazai was pretty sure the supposed thugs happened to be the Port Mafia. He was just waiting for Kunikida to get through all the questions from his notebook so they could go on lunch already. But now? Now a show of entertainment was in sight as Dazai zeroed in on Y/N and how uncomfortable she looked. That would certainly set Kunikida off.

Dazai knew how whipped Kunikida was for Y/N. The tall man almost never liked to talk about things outside of work, unless it came to his girlfriend. Everyone in the office knew to steer clear of the topic of Y/N unless they wanted to be trapped in a conversation about how amazing her cooking was or how well her job was going. It was cute at first, but it had been a couple years and Kunikida was still in his honeymoon phase of worshipping her. But this? This would make him go wild.

Dazai let out a huge sigh as the client kept talking. He noticed how Y/N kept looking over, hoping someone would notice and get her out of whatever hell she was going through. So Dazai waved slightly, making Kunikida look over at him and frown. The client was still talking, going into some story that looked like it would drag on and on. And then, the situation got worse.

Just as Kunikida was looking to see whatever had Dazai’s attention instead of the case, the strange man began to twirl Y/N’s hair around his finger, getting horribly close. His face got too close to hers, noses about to brush. Y/N held her breath, praying that the moment would be over soon. And it was.

Nobody had expected Kunikida to be that fast, but soon he was up the hill to the bench and holding the man who was shorter than him by the collar. There was a rage in his eye that centered around the man’s wandering hands. Y/N stood up quickly, ready to pull Kunikida away from the man if he tried to be too violent. Of course she would pretend to be slow, but she still felt morally obligated to pull them away from one another. Dazai casually walked up the grassy hill, hands in his pocket and smirk on his face.

Kunikida was breathing heavy, mind racing on what he was going to do. He wasn’t naturally a violent person, but he did not like how the man was making Y/N uncomfortable. His sudden rush had caught the attention of those who were close by. There was a silence enveloping the group as they all waited to see what Kunikida would do.

“Unhand my grandson,” The old man yelled as he waddled up the hill at an extremely slow pace.

Dazai raised an eyebrow and looked behind him. For a split second, he was very aware of how easily he could push the old man back down the hill and turn back to the source of the growing tension in the park. But Dazai didn’t want to be the source of any drama in that moment so he just turned back around to see the conflict in Kunikida’s eyes.

“It’s okay, honey,” Y/N said as she slowly put a hand on Kunikida’s shoulder.

Kunikida let down the man, he dropped to his knees from the sudden let go. He faltered as he stood up, readjusting his clothes.

“What the hell is your-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, he was getting socked in the face. Everyone stood in shock as Y/N’s hit sent him straight to the ground. She stood over him with a frown on her face.

“Learn to respect women, asshole.”

And if it were possible, Kunikida fell in love with her more.

[dariaslore]

Birds

Set during the Coven's days. Griffin finds out about Valtor's demon form and things may be darker than they seem. Will she go away? Warnings: angst, dark stuff, some contents may be triggering.

She couldn't sleep.

He had told her he would be away all night, when dark magic was stronger and could be practiced at the highest levels. It was one of the many training sessions with his mothers, her presence wasn't allowed this time, the meeting was strictly reserved to the wizard and the three witches. At first they didn't take place frequently, but since a few months, now that the Company of Light was proving to be more of a threat, she had found herself spending more nights alone than usual, holed up in the mansion's library, waiting for his return. He came back extremely tired, without even the strenght to speak, his only desire was to lose himself in the night, hugging her like a safe port.

That night, too much time had gone by. It was three in the morning and he still wasn't by her side. Anxiety was devouring her, tossing and turning in bed, then she would get up and walk back and forth the room, trying to kill time. She would grab a book just to throw it away a minute later. Half a cigarette smoked, the rest was garbage, now she would light up a new one. She couldn't find peace, she knew the three witches and every scar on Valtor's body as well. They always wanted more and more and were never satisfied, he was up for anything just to gain a bit of their approval. And this was lethal.

She left the room they shared and, as her feet were pounding on the floor faster and faster, looked for the room where training usually took place. And there he was.

Gasping, hands shaking and her gaze caught by fear.

She opened the door. The pungent smell of iron flooded her nostrils. She decided to follow its scent. She felt her airway closing and blurring sight, icy needles paralyzed her heart. Her vocal cords refused to vibrate the unspeakable horror in front of her eyes. A connection had been cut off, her pulsating golden irises were screaming and the sound was dying inside of them.

She saw him tossed into the darkest corner of the room, like a used and forgotten toy.

Bowed head, his face hidden by his blond hair in an act of shameless shame. He was shaking, had goosebumps, and she could see his ribs move through the swollen white skin as he breathed. He had never looked so thin and frail, his figure so thin compared to the red scales that swallowed him bite after bite. They started sporadic from his chest and then slowly thicken on his arms and hands deformed into long claws. They painted the portrait of a beast and found maximum expression in the two huge red wings wrapped in a shield, protecting him from the cold of the outside world in an embrace. It looked like the monster was trying to save its own prey. It emphasized the misery, the greatness and strength of the red hunter and the labored breathing of its pale victim. Naked and with his back torn.

Blood overflowed copiously, snaked elegantly dragging its red vital flow downstream, it marked the grooves of his ribs and suddenly fell silent, insinuating itself between the inanimate tiles of the mosaic on the floor. His milky skin was imprisoned in a network of faults of flesh torn apart by the fiercest of beasts. It was scarred, its edges matched perfectly with the width of the claws of his hands, she could feel their power sink into his taut muscle fibers, stretch them to the ends like springs, and tear them away as waste material, a further obstacle to the main organ that he was burning to find. So he dug again, and again, in an unbridled greed for a proof of his humanity. The pain wasn't enough, he wouldn't stop until his claws gripped his beating heart. He had to tear the flesh, the dress of his existence that now felt too tight with the darkness that threatened to overflow and pick him up again in its coils.

"Go away..." he murmured.

Valtor had perceived her presence ever since she had stepped in, fear washing through her veins. She was the last person in the universe who could see him reduced to that. He trusted her, she had been the first person to dig under his surface of powerful narcissist wizard, making him discover a different person. Before her were all the things that weren't and would never be. He was never going to sleep with anyone, he did with her, he had never had a real friend, his mothers had taught him to calculate everything based on utility and how anyone was just a pawn on a chessboard. He had aquaintances, many flirts with countless women and men, and he was never the one in love. And neither were they. For each of his lovers he already knew, the moment when he left their bed, that all that would remain was one more meaningless hot night, an exercise of the word love. They all carried out in the same way, with an absence of words, and he was conscious of being but an object of lust due to his body and his power. And then, she came into his life, the only woman immune to his fiery charme and who even seemed to hate him. He had never spent an entire night on a sofa eating junk food and talking of the most diverse topics, he did with her. He had never received a hug, she hugged him, after a mission with a positive resolution. He never cared for the feelings of others, now he couldn't stand sadness to veil her eyes. She had occupied his heart and not only he loved her madly, she was also his best and only friend. He trusted her, but he didn't trust himself and the monstruosity living inside of him.

"Valtor..."

She couldn't believe it was him. She spelled his name with dragging slowness, almost reluctant to attribute the name of the man she loved to that foul creature. It was him, it had taken two words, a plead to walk out the door and go away.

"Griffin, please, go away, now."

"You're hurt" she said when the only thing her spinning mind could still focus on were his wounds.

"Go away!"

"I wanna help you."

A loud roar cut through the air, and she found herself on the ground, overcome by the power of his claws. It burned and shone bright red on her thigh between the silk of her nightgown, it wasn't too deep, a shallow cut. He had hurt her on purpose for the first time.

Another scream and another sob. Valtor was looking at his hands with wide eyes. He was forced to protect her in the only way his other self knew: violence.

"Are you happy now I've hurt you? Help me? Who do you want to help, a beast? I'm a freak. Look at me Griffin, look!" he cried amid sobs that threatened to suffocate him, too large and noisy that struck his lungs like prisoners in a desperate flight to freedom. A distorted chant broke his larynx, his swan song.

Lying on the floor with an itching cut and blurred thinking, she saw right through Valtor.

She had already heard of those feathered winged creatures earthlings believed in. She realized he was an angel. A fallen one.

He wasn't born for all of this. He was a creature of pure light bound to an eternal exile in darkness, and although the flame that burned within him tended to return to its original light source, it was held back by the iron fist of darkness. She was a creature of the dark too, a witch, but she had decided to be one, he was tainted and that made him the greatest shadow of all. The monster that enveloped him, moving the threads of his very existence, fed every day on the fiery light of his soul, now reduced to a mere flame. His monstrousness came from this destructive coexistence between light and dark, in which only one of the two would have definitively won. The flame burned, it couldn't keep silent and was responsible for his injured back. Darkness was close to him, so he had scratched it off, like a stain on a piece of precious silverware, he wanted to perform a desperate act of purification through his blood to finally wash himself away from the darkness and to get back to the pure light being he had always been meant to be. At least once.

It was written in his eyes which were shyly looking at her through his hair's wheat strands, although he tried to hide them under layers of ice and indifference. His pupils were imprisoned in a web of red capillaries, but they still managed to keep their last drop of pure humanity. It wasn't the same look he gave her every night as he adored her body, neither that of the sarcastic and ironic wizard, it was the one of every time his mothers would have criticized him, of when he tried in every way possibile to impress her, just to snatch her a compliment or a smile. In those moments he tore his heart out of his chest and fed it to his tormentor, craving for trivial affections.

She got up from the floor confident and proud, knowing what to do.

"Go away!" he yelled.

Griffin approached him ignoring all his moans and wrapped his face in her warm hands and traced every feature with her fingers. She felt the difference of texture between his skin and the red scales staining it. She stroked his nose, forehead and lips. She raised the corners of his lips, uncovering white fangs. She smiled and kissed him. Just a smack.

He was blown away, stuck in an idyll that tasted of her. Adrenaline was rushing, he had made it.

She grabbed his hand and looked him straight in the eye, the gold of her irises had never been so metallic. Maybe tired of lies, the purple-haired witch was so determined and a slave to curiosity that she delved into the darkest of truths, even one that would harm her. It wasn't over, she knew it. He was trying to play it cool, but with his eyes in a runaway dance and his smile crooked to the left, he had the classic facial expression of a child who had succeeded in getting away with something.

"Is that all? Is there anything else I should know?" she asked firmly.

That question was a cold shower. He shook his head. He was lying, there was so much more she should have known, the whole side of himself he never had control over. What she was seeing now was just a glimpse of the monster he saw every morning in the mirror, when all humanity crumbled to pieces and his eyes lost their pupils. But he still didn't want that kiss between them to be the last. She would have loved him until there was but a drop of man in him, but after that?

"You're lying Valtor. Show me, don't hold it back"

"Please, I can't!"

She would have run away. He was trying to become human again and she was asking him to show her the monster.

"Just do it!" she ordered, clenched fists and fixed pupils.

"Why are you doing this Griffin?"

She didn't answer him. She was emanating ice from all over her body, posture was stiff, back straight and lips tightened. She wouldn't give up until she got what she wanted.

He started changing, his body turning into the twisted fantasy of three long gone witches, and soon all human features were erased from his face. Stripped of his blond hair, abandoned to the ugliness of his inner skeleton. Now he was way bigger than her, the monster's palm almost the size of her entire face. All his senses were on the alert, looking for the easiest way to kill, the purpose for which it had been built. What she was in front of was a machine ready to kill, plus her neck was so thin.

She didn't even flinch. She did exactly what she had done beforehand. She watched the monster's facial expressions changing, how his blue stoney eyes were boring into her body, finding the most effective way to kill her. And then as if she had read his mind, placed that exact same palm she had held before around her fragile neck, playing the beast's game.

"It would be so easy, wouldn't it?

Damn, it would. The demon could feel her neck cracking under its strength and the air leaving her lungs in her last attempt to breathe.

"Squeeze, what are you waiting for?" she said giggling, but an invisible force was holding the creature back, incapable of applying any pressure. It screamed with rage, not realizing what was going on and why the smile on her face was getting progressively bigger and brighter. She enjoyed the fear flushing down her veins, it was too much to handle and that was making her steady. With her mind blank, she leaned over and with its hand still over her neck, kissed the creature on its mouth.

Leathery red scales began to retreat like clouds after a storm, finally letting his white skin breathe. The demon, his wings were gone.

Valtor broke down in her arms. He was too tired to express the growing happiness inside. He couldn't believe it, something like this had never happened before, getting rid of the other Valtor so quickly was an intangible dream. Everytime his mothers made him assume that form, he would spend hours of excruciating pain, waiting for the beast's claws to disappear. He holed up in the darkness, allowing himself to be consumed bite by bite, seeking in his mind an end to his labyrinth of torment. She had been the first one to get him out of there, a gleam of light at the end of the tunnel. He hoped it could've lasted forever.

He plunged into her eyes like a lost puppy, letting her capture his soul in her thick lashes.

"Don't I scare you? How can you kiss that beast? You must kill the monster Griffin, I'm begging you! Free me, save me, I can't bear it anymore! "

The more he tried to chase it away, the more he felt it crawl through his veins like a poisonous liquid. It was choking him from the inside, he could feel it making its way through his mind, it was making fun of his neurons in a black pool. He felt his head throbbing, unable to contain all that anger and hatred. He screamed in pain in a soundless space, one day he would tear his skull to pieces

"Where are you ?!" he said screaming at the top of his lungs. He couldn't see straight anymore, his whole body shaking with anxiety, blood rushing through his veins and his heart loudly pounding in his chest.

"Hush, I'm right here. I'm holding you, see?"

"D-don't leave ..." he begged her and rested his head on her chest.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you, look at me." She cupped his chin in her hand, so he could meet her gaze again.

"Come on, we must get to our room, your wounds are bleeding."

"Your thigh..." he glanced at her leg with his face twisted in horror. Guilt building up.

"It's just a scratch. A pinch of magic and it will go away. It doesn't even burn anymore!" Griffin tried to reassure him.

She concentrated and teleported them to their room in a quick snap of fingers.

"Can you stand up?" she asked him.

"I- I ..."

"Don't worry, I'll hold you. You can do it."

She put an arm around his shoulder and tried to hold him by the waist, taller and heavier than her, backing him was hard: she had to.

Valtor stood up. Pangs of pain. He was weak, his knees buckling, joints croaking, it was as if his bones were breaking from the inside out on by one. He groaned in protest.

"I know, hold on, it's just one more step."

He freed himself of her grip and met the soft mattress of the bed they shared.

Griffin helped him sit up, covered his lower body with blankets, then she placed her hands on his back, focused and chanted a spell. Wet: blood between her fingers. The magic tickled the torn cells giving them a smoother edge.

"I'll be right back." she said. Then she rushed to the bathroom and, in the wooden cabinet, she found a cotton cloth, some ointments, flasks and some bandages. His wounds were too extensive and deep, she had managed to stop the bleeding and somehow reduce their size, now she had to worry about disinfecting.

"This will hurt just a bit."

"Get your hands off of me, now!"

He spun around, his voice high and firm, swollen veins and a sunken neck. It was a defensive act, it seemed to her the desperate move of an hunted animal fleeing its tormentors, veins darting with fear and aggressive bearing, pretending to be the one who holds power. But she wasn't his mothers, she couldn't get upset, he wasn't lucid and this complete reversal of attitude was proof of that. He no longer held the reins of his thoughts, he was finally letting them gallop on their own, fragments of past and present intertwined together. He proceeded by associations of ideas in an increasingly blurred time boundary: the disinfectant burned like Tharma's lightnings on his legs.

"Calm down. I'm not here to hurt you." she said. She had all her senses alert, he approached her by burying his nose in the hollow of her neck, he smelled her skin, traces in the air, caught violet and amber.

"It's me. Look, it's just disinfectant." she reassured him by pointing to the bottle on the bedside table.

Valtor retrated, recognizing it was the woman he loved and not one of his mothers in front of him. His heartbeat became slow, shoulders down, now he almost seemed like a lifeless doll in front of her. He let her keep on her work without any complaints. She finished dressing, then she bandaged his wounds in deafening silence, she could only hear his breathing.

"Stay there." she whispered softly heading towards the little wooden cupboard in the room.

It had been her idea, she felt like a stranger in that house and the thought of going down four floors each time to get to the kitchen, risking meeting her witches, made her shiver. Of course, she was much freer than any member of the Coven, somehow the Ancestors respected her, listened to her plans and strategies carefully, never a word of mockery, all she had received in years of service was advice, few compliments and an expression she could not discern. They were alert, analyzing her, looking for flaws and weaknesses, Liliss stammered something out under her breath, the others two nodded. She felt watched, stalked, obsessed with the thought that sooner or later they would've chained her too in their perverse game. For this reason she avoided all actions, tried to keep relationships with the three as detached as possible, remaining a puzzle in front of the witch of illusions was her goal.

She opened the cupboard and placed the material on the table. She put some water in the electric kettle, opened the inlaid wooden casket and began to choose the most suitable herbs, lightly caressed each one, letting the fragrances dance in her lungs.

It reminded her of her dad, as she watched him as a child as he made her a cup of tea whenever she was down in the dumps. He caressed the herbs in his study with delicacy, immersing himself in the pungent smells, then he would call her beside him in that olfactory research, telling her the benefits of each plant and how to make the most of them, and it was the sharp rosemary for healing, mint for stress, balsamic anise. In that little corner of nature, with the well-known brilliant notes of the cedar peel and the skilled hands of her father who mashed the leaves, her mind relaxed.

She waited for the herbs to finish their brewing time, then she poured the tea into a white porcelain cup adding a teaspoon of honey.

"I made you some tea. It'll help you feel better. Open your mouth, please."

She softly blew on the cup, cooling it off just a bit, and brought it to his mouth. Valtor followed her command, the smell was heady, notes of lavender, hawthorn and red tea sang as the hot liquid ran down his throat.

When he had finished to drink, she put the empty cup away and wiped his lips with her thumb. She kissed him on the forehead and let him lay down, tucking the sheets.

"Griffin ..." Valtor suddenly mumbled.

"Tell me."

"I- I ..."

"It's okay, you can tell me whatever you want."

"Why are you not angry? I- I ... hid you a part of me."

She had no right to be angry. She couldn't be when those pure eyes were fixed on hers in search of certainties. He was looking for answers and confirmation in her words, when she at first still could not realize what she had just seen. Such nonsense could not be described and questioning was useless. What could be rational about the cuts he carried behind his back or the red scales that covered him? Nothing.

What was rational about the man usually full of himself who was now trembling with fear in front of her?

"Why should I-"

"You must be."

Rather, he wanted her to be. He wanted her to scream, spit every insult, every slimy truth, so that he could sink into the depths of his self-contempt. Yet, she was calm and taking care of him. He didn't deserve it and couldn't stand her stare full of love that should've been directed towards someone way better than him. He was a hero for trying to save her from the horror that bore his name and a coward for wanting her still by his side. She hadn't run away from fear and it pulled her even closer to his heart. It was killing him.

"I know, I should've told you." he continued. "My mothers created it, something I have no control over. They wanted to try a new spell today and things spiraled out of control and- "

"And you hurt your back." she said.

And it hadn't been even the first time.

He was 7 years old, missing incisors and messy blonde curls, when he used to curl up in a corner and gaze out at the sky and the garden below from the large living room windows. He envied the swallows, they were weak, tiny fragile bones destined for a meal to a larger predator, ephemeral existences with a noose around their necks given by the true and only mother nature, yet they sang, they whirled in the sky unaware of any danger in an eternal spring. It was the same with flowers, they would be waiting a whole year to show off their magnetic colors and then bound to perish in a sweet smell that penetrated his nostrils. They all died in a quick smile, almost a game of darts, they threw themselves at maximum power towards the target of no return, as if they didn't care about the ending, it was just a necessary condition for their fleeting beauty. They slowly went towards death not feeling its weight for their entire existence, nothing more than a momentum. Blink of an eye, his irises were now laying on the various paintings hanging around the room: Liliss had an obsession for art and each painting had to represent a specif mood of hers. There were battle scenes, clanging of swords, diaphanous women with bare breasts standing face to face with a young men gambling in the dim black of oil painting. Stormy seas, forests and then aimless flowers and seagulls. Why were they still? What had stolen their right to chase each other across the sky? Someone had decided to enchant them in a precise instant, in a fixed scene against their will, while their fellows whirled free. He felt sympathy for the water lilies forced not to close and for the always red apple stuck in the basket, perhaps because he himself was a still life, the flying, the wanting, the perishing were out of his will, the one of a lacquered image. It was crystal clear in the definition itself, still life, how could a being stained by nothing have vital momentum since its very conception wanted it still? He was still life. In a frame, sick with rot and alive in the stroke of the eternal puppet position imposed by his mothers. Rot bit into his bones, poisoned his nerves and threw them into a muddy puddle where the reflection did not match his will.

His child self decided he would free every little bird from the canvas and destroy all those paintings, he hated still lives, so he bit his lip as hard as he could until the taste of iron flooded his mouth. He moved on to something else, now the game was scratching his skin to color it pink, holding his breath with the utmost force. He learned to control his flames, wanted to test its power and chose his arms as a target. He was a teenager and as he shortened his hair with scissors, he thought what it must be like to stand in their place and be cut off. And he felt it on his skin. It wasn't like anyone would've noticed, the wounds merged with those inflicted by the Ancestors, leaving cords of raised skin. He was their toy, therefore he demanded to be broken and he would help them by making their job easier. Wasn't it what a good son must do?

"At least my blood is red, isn't it?" he said as he interrupted his flow of thoughts. Lips twisted into a sinister smile and wide eyes.

"Of course it is red, but what do you mean?" she replied bewildered.

"It's good news. I'm a beast, it could've been black or blue as well, but it is red just like yours."

His calm tone spelling poisonous words hit her like a shard leaving her heart shattered.

"You're no beast." she said.

"And what would I be if not a creature? These feelings, this warmth towards you, how do I know they're mine? How do I know they're not controlling me and you're just an illusion of Liliss? Are you real Griffin? Can you answer? "

His pupils dilated, he spoke to her in a swirling crescendo, his voice rose, it cracked, its rhythm accelerated hysterically, breathing short and broken, his fingertips digging deep into her arms' skin.

"You can't love me! You just saw it!" he spat out.

She stared in horror at the atrocity of those words. Reality was mangling her eardrums as a cat scratching on a chalkboard.

"Griffin, these eyes, this hair, are just a wrapper, a beautiful case for the most hideous of gifts. If I hadn't looked like this, would you have even looked at me? Would you have ever spoken to me or would you have run away?" he asked. He asked her what she would've done, when he was the one who wanted to escape the mirror every morning. He saw the monster chuckling there behind him, next to his immaculate reflection, laughing, enjoying the blond's stupidity for wanting to conceal his true essence, as if a line of defined eyeliner and eyebrows would've done the trick.

"You're still making questions." she whispered in wonder.

"I must know!" he screamed. "I need to know if you're willing to love a monster, because ... that's what I am."

Griffin cupped his cheeks, her hands so gentle and soothing, and she smiled, the most beautiful he had ever witnessed, a glimpse of light in the pit of darkness his life was.

"You're still questioning, Valtor. You're the answer. You want me to tell you that you are good, that you are a man, to confirm something that runs in your blood, and you still do not know what it is. The answer is your own self, in your doubts. You are worried, you are taking care of something and in this action there is humanity. I cannot give you the answers you are looking for, but I can say that I feel them here. "

She placed her hand on his heart.

"When the spark in you has gone out and your vocal cords no longer vibrate, with no doubt, you'll be a monster. Without even realizing it, you'll spread terror and death, emotions will be unknown to you. But you have those and they're beautiful. You're human, Valtor, this is why you hate the beast, hence you fight. But this back means giving up, these tears on your face, well, they're a victory. I hate the monster, as much as you do, but it's not the one with red scales and big wings. Your own monster is living inside your mind, it feeds off your insecurities and how I'd like to kill it off if I only could! Free you and look at the man, I can say it outloud I- I... L-lo-ve."

Her voice cracked, the word love hard as tears tried to find their way. She held them back and took his hand between hers, in what looked so much like a promise.

"Valtor, I'll never love the beast. I love you."

"What if I were to become one? Would you give up on me? Would you ever leave me in the dark, alone? You'll never leave, will you? Will you always be by my side? Don't lie, please."

The witch hugged him eagerly as her heart broke under the weight of the demons in his mind. The adult with the oversized ego had collapsed into a child to be protected.

She lay down beside him and slowly started stroking his hair, lulling him to sleep. Another sob.

"She left me Griffin, she left me alone in the darkness with that monster. I'm scared."

"Who left you?" she asked softly.

"Believe me, I was good, I had never done anything wrong. I was small, useless, and it was too strong, I couldn't beat it. I was afraid of the dark, and she wasn't there to protect me. So dark ..." he spoke feebly, he turned his head.

Eye frames the void, remembers a room with a forthcoming beast, roaring flames, pain. The vague phrasing, frightened of giving voice to his nightmares, chased his weaknesses with choked breath, tried to catch them one by one, but they were dripping off his lips.

"Who are you talking about?" Griffin asked shaking his hand, giving him all the courage to speak up his mothers never tried to give him.

"Mom." Valtor stammered, gasping. Without even the pronoun my, he was almost referring to entities out of time and space whose name trembled leaving his mouth. She knew he didn't have a mother, the blond man in her arms was a creation of the Ancestors, yet he was longing for a family, bonds made of genes and flesh.

"Mom left me and the darkness came for me. It was so cold, I couldn't move." Darts of frozen darkness, enveloped in himself like a shivering maggot. The creator speaks, the son obeys. The creator breaks his will, sets the rules, commands. Violence, punishment, obedience, blood and broken bones. The cold becomes stronger, snow cuts his face, the son gets tired, he begins to ask questions, he strives to know the purpose of everything. "Your purpose is us Valtor, without us you are nothing" Belladonna ruled.

No words, another cry that desperately asked to be given voice. He was hungry for love.

"I don't want to be a creation. I can't be their son, Griffin. I feel it, I sense it, even they are not that powerful to create life out of nothing. It's burning inside of me, I don't belong to this planet, Whisperia's not my home, but somehow I ended up here with them, the mighty son of the Three Witches. Maybe I wasn't a good child, was I? I wonder if she remembers me. I don't remember her, one moment she was there to hold me, the next she was gone. I can still imagine her touch and scent on my skin, I bet she smelled of roses, because I love roses, don't I? I ask myself where is she now, what is she doing and if she is proud me or if she ever loved me. But she's not here. Belladonna, Liliss, Tharma never left me, though. I know, they're definitely not the mothers of the year, but they never left me. I'm a weapon, I told you, the most powerful of them all, they can't lose me. They hate the man I am, but they appreciate the beast and therefore I'm sure they would never leave me.That's why deep down I think they may care about me, I got what they need. I love them."

He smiled as he tossed his head back among the silk cushions, knowing how much a fool he was making of himself. She was still there, strong and still as always.Trembling lips, every cell of her body was fibrillating, they wanted to detach from it and rush on him like thousands of shooting stars, build him a shelter, save him from his mothers and love him, giving him a bit of that care he had always been denied. She knew her love wasn't enough.

Meanwhile Valtor wondered how much easier it would've been to turn off the light and let himself be swallowed up in an endless dream. Darkness would become his new home, and without even the small glow of its flames, it wouldn't be dark anymore, just nothing. No sound, no fight. Maybe she could've been the one able of dragging him out the pit he had digged himself. He raised his head and tried to meet her gaze for the last time, his lids starting to feel heavy.

"Griffin I don't know how much longer I will be able to keep the monster away. That's why I need to know that no matter what you'll stay by my side. Will you? "

"I.."

Interrupted sentence.

He had already fallen asleep without even waiting for the answer to how much he wanted it to be positive. It was easier to unstich himself from reality and follow the threads towards the dreamlike enchantment, in which the canvas tapestry with their smiling faces imprinted would never unravel.

She sighed. It was her turn to cry now.

She didn't know. That was the answer that was so difficult for her and it was breaking her heart. All the words of courage and comfort that had come easily from her before were now dead in her throat, none of them were for her. She had seen his blood slipping right through her skin, she had touched what was the most intimate about him that somehow managed to appear so right as it sneaked into her bony hands. The red of his blood fingerprinted his pain, left her the keeper of what was dearest to him. As the sea after an undertow regurgitates its treasures on the beach, the darkness in him had left away the most precious of his secrets: she had felt his humanity, now it was up to her to decide whether to wash it away or dry it and no soap would have ever canceled it. She could not wash her hands, she looked at them in the twilight of the night, turned them again and again, searched for escape routes between the lines of her palms, but the more she squinted her eyes in search of a pattern, the further she was pushed away. He was now in her hands.

She threw herself into the silk of the bed and looked at him: eyes closed and his lashes tickled his cheeks slightly. How could a monster be so human? And she, how could she be so hypocritical, unable to give an answer and yet she was hugging him? And fuck, how much the cut on her leg hurt.

Perhaps their relationship was a ship on fire on the high seas. Water and fire, a beautiful tragedy to be consummated in sync until one annihilates the other. Water never dies, it changes shape. The heat of the fire would've forced it into crystalline darts that would hurt the sky like swallows at dawn.

She was a bird. A real one.

Birds fly away.

[thran-duils]

From All Sides (P.8)

Title: From All Sides (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,480 Warnings (for the whole fic): Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior Warnings for this chapter: Heavy violence!

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony jolted back, stepping out of the way of one of Ivan’s fists. He took advantage of Ivan being so close and landed a punch at the center of Ivan’s ribs. Ivan choked, the air knocked out of his lungs, losing his balance a little. Tony did not miss that and kicked at his calf. Ivan stumbled even more but found balance again. Tony backed off.

His hair clung to his forehead, sweat covering him. It glistened on his bare chest.

Again, Tony tagged Ivan up, landing a handful of strikes. But Ivan got his in and sent Tony into the wall. Pissed, Tony grimaced as he turned around quick just as Ivan was on him. Ducking out of the way, Tony blocked Ivan’s incoming kick and got another punch in. In the same spot he had hit before on his ribs and Ivan grunted. Tony had done that on purpose, hoping to crack Ivan’s ribs and it seemed he had.

Having the upper hand for even a moment, Tony used it to his advantage to sweep a kick and Ivan tumbled backwards. Tony was on him in a moment, laying punch after punch. Ivan held up his hands trying to block Tony but Tony’s fist collided with Ivan’s jaw, sending him sprawling, face to the ground. He was out cold.

The crowd around the pen erupted louder now. Tony stood up, straight, his breath loud and short as his heart pounded in his ears. He brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling the cut there that Ivan had given him early on and his ear hurt where Ivan had boxed him.

Tony backed off completely now so Ivan’s men could come collect him. He turned to the exit of the pen, eyes searching for Steve and the men he had brought with him. They were waiting and Steve intercepted him and told him that he needed to bandage up his hands. Tony looked down, seeing that yes, his knuckles were bloody.

But he had won. Now all he needed was a quick bath before returning to the ship.

<><><>

You were outrunning the crew, weaving in and out around people on the docks, heading further into the cavern’s expansive layout. You were not sure where you were going but you just kept running, tossing looks over your shoulder.

When you caught sight of Bucky closing in, you pumped your legs harder.

It was all for naught because the man had ridiculous speed. Your heart clenched as you heard his pounding footfalls right behind you and in that moment you knew you were going to be caught.

Bucky tackled you to the ground, slapping the gun away from you, sending it flying across the floor. He planted a knee directly into your chest, holding you fast against the ground. You tried to stab at him clumsily with the knife, but he gripped your wrist painfully with his metal arm. You cried out as he tightened his grip to cause your hand to go limp. He yanked the knife away with his free hand. You slapped helplessly at his thigh; he was crushing your ribs. You gasped for air, hands grasping his knee, trying to shove it off.

“Give me that rope!” Bucky barked at one of the other pirates that had caught up by now.

Tossing the knife aside as well, Bucky easily caught your forearms, pulling them up towards him. He held your arms close together before him.

“Tie her up!”

The other pirate did as you watched helplessly, wincing at the bone crushing grip Bucky had on your forearms. The extra rope was long hanging off your wrists and you were stuck tight.

Snapping his fingers, Bucky pointed at his gun. “Give me that!”

Your vigor was renewed, and you started kicking your legs, trying to bring at least one up to knee him in the ass. Bucky’s jaw was set, glowering at you. The man brought him the gun and Bucky pointed the gun at you and your mouth fell open, going limp immediately thinking he was going to shoot you. But he pointed the gun to the side and shot at the ground away from the pair of you.

“Stop making this more difficult than it needs to be, Y/N!”

In shock and your ears ringing, you blinked. Bucky holstered his gun again and stood up quickly before swooping down, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as if you were a bag of flour. How strong was this man to handle you like this?

“I told you that you were making a huge mistake!” Bucky said to you, his grip tight on you as he turned and began to stomp out of the room. “There was no way you were going to get away from me.”

Shock clearing, you squirmed in his arms, and he only held tighter. You used your tied hands to beat at his back and he only chuckled, which made you even more upset.

“Hit me all you want, dear. You’re not getting away from me again. I won’t disappoint Tony twice today.”

<><><>

“Where the hell is everyone?” Tony demanded as he approached Sam, who was standing next to the ramp, eyes searching the port. He immediately noticed that even more of the crew was missing than the small handful he had taken with him and Steve. Sam looked far too disappointed to see Tony which made him even more suspicious.

Sam sighed and said curtly, “They went ashore.”

Tony stepped closer, staring Sam down who to his credit was keeping eye contact with his captain. “Why do I feel like there’s something else you need to tell me?”

“They’re looking for Y/N. She left the ship.”

Tony was quiet, eyes wild. The silence scared Sam even more than if Tony had immediately burst. Still, the inevitable explosion caused Sam to flinch.

“Pray tell me how she managed to evade an entire fucking crew!” Tony barked. “I trust you! Or I should be able to trust you to follow my orders! And you cannot even manage one woman?”

“She had a knife. I don’t know where she got it. She tried to just walk off, but Bucky stopped her and she got the jump on him. Knife directly to his throat.”

“Then yank it away from her! Like Bucky couldn’t have overpowered her? Jesus Christ!” Tony hollered. “He’s gotten out of tighter situations before!”

“Well, she demanded his gun and he gave it to her and she used that to get off the ship by pointing it,” Sam went on and that information made Tony even more furious if it was possible. Sam quickly added in Bucky’s defense, “I don’t think he wanted to injure her for fear of angering you.”

“Letting her off the ship is angering me more! I thought that would have been clear but apparently no one thinks on this vessel! And who in the hell was supposed to be watching my quarters in the first place? Oh, right, Alexei. Where the hell is that prick?”

“Passed out. Nose was deep in a bottle,” Sam answered stoically. “Found him afterwards.”

Tony’s face was red, veins taut in his neck, as he tried to not scream. He shook his head furiously, taking a step back, head turning towards the dock. He wiped at his mouth, taking a deep breath.

“Bucky’s got her,” Steve announced from the railing, his head turned away from port to look at them onboard.

Tony stormed over to the railing, seeing indeed Bucky had her swung over his shoulder. To Sam, he snapped, “Where is Alexei?” Sam told him and Tony ordered, “Do not let Bucky put her back in the cabin. I want her to see this.”

Finding Alexei below deck, Tony gripped the hammock and upended Alexei unceremoniously. He circled around the hammock, eyes pinned in a rage at his crewman trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Tony did not give him much time to figure it out before he swung his fist down, clocking Alexei on the cheek, knocking him to the ground.

“What—” was all Alexei got out, pained before Tony hit him again.

Grasping the back of his hair, Tony tore his top half away from the ground, Alexei’s back bent back painfully in the process. Alexei’s eyes were unclear, a mixture of the drink and the fact Tony had just knocked his brain about twice in quick succession.

“I gave you a direct order to stay outside my cabin and make sure that Y/N did not leave!” Tony bellowed. “And what did you do? Go get yourself drunk and let her escape! And she ended up causing a lot of people grief in the process! You fucked up big time, Alexei!”

Tony let go of his hair and planted a series of hard kicks into Alexei’s side and stomach when he tried to roll away to protect his side. Alexei vomited from the last kick, clutching his stomach in pain. Tony was not satisfied yet, not even close.

Dragging him up the stairs and up on deck, the crew parted for him. Tony tossed him onto the deck, drawing a pained moan from Alexei. Y/N was staring at him in a mixture of disgust and horror beside Bucky, who was holding tight to the end of the rope around her wrists.

Alexei sputtered blood, his hands shaking as he tried to plant them on the deck to push himself back up. He only got up a few inches before Tony sent a rough kick to his backside, sending him sprawling again.

“I did not tell you to get up,” Tony snarled rabidly.

His eyes went around the circle of his crew, chest heaving. His knuckles were stinging, this being the second time he beat a man into submission today.

“This sorry sack of shit was supposed to be outside my cabin to make sure my lass did not leave. How hilarious I come back and find he had not done what I asked and instead found himself at the bottom of a bottle. What happens when someone disobeys a direct order from me?” Tony shouted out at his crew. “We know the answer to that, don’t we?”

Alexei blubbered, trying to ask for forgiveness for only a few moments, drawing Tony’s attention. His lip curled in disgust, and he sneered, “At least have some dignity, you scurvy dog.”

In a fluid motion, Tony unholstered his gun, aiming it directly at the back of Alexei’s head. He cocked it and the gunshot echoed.

As the smoke cleared from the shot, Tony holstered his gun again. Turning to Y/N, he pinned her with a glare. He stalked towards her, the crew silent as the tension between the two of them could be cut with a knife. She was cornered, her eyes full of fright. He was sure this was the first time he had ever evoked that in her and he found sick pleasure he had put it there.

“At least, that rule applies to the crew. My men. You on the other hand, no, I’ve got something else planned to teach you a lesson,” Tony seethed, staring deep into her impossibly wide eyes. “When I said do not leave my cabin, I fucking meant it. And since you can’t seem to follow directions, looks like I’m going to have to enforce it myself until you can learn to behave!”

To Bucky, he snapped, “I’ll deal with you later!”

Tony jerked her away from Bucky, feeling her stumble behind him as he stormed off. She was struggling to keep up with him. The crew parted again as he made their way back to his cabin. When they reached it, he pulled her beside him, throwing his door open. He shoved her inside in front of him and closed the door behind him.

“Tony—”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

Dragging her to the bed, he snapped his finger at the floor and instructed gruffly, “Get on your knees.”

She looked indignant suddenly at the command, “I will not!”

Rolling his eyes, his patience growing ever thinner with her troublesome attitude, he gave a swift, light kick at the back of her knees, causing her to buckle. She tried to catch herself, but he was already using the momentum to shove her down to her knees next to his bed.

“Stop it!” she begged.

Tony snorted, “You must be mad if you think I am going to do that.”

She tried to crawl away when he gave lax on the rope, and he punished her with a yank. She hissed against the burn on her wrists. He gave another rough yank to bring her even closer to the bed, and she winced as her knees drug against the hardwood.

Looping the rope around the bedframe, he began to tie it expertly. Her eyes widened, realizing what he was doing.

“Tony, please don’t!” she pleaded as he tied it taut. She yanked helplessly against it, stuck against the built-in bed. She sniffled, tears forming. There was no way she was going to escape that without help. She gave another hard pull and whimpered audibly at the rope rubbing at her wrists.

Tony grasped her chin and demanded, “Stop it right now! You’ll rub your wrists raw!”

“Then untie me!” she said, trying to escape his grasp but he only held tighter, fingers digging into her jawline.

“You can earn your way back up onto the bed and out of those ropes with good behavior!” Tony let go of her roughly and she sunk further onto the floor.

Tears that had been collecting tumbled over now, fat down her cheeks. Tony was unmoved in his anger; he could not let her get away with disregarding his orders. He would break her down, make her obedient. And if that meant doing this the hard way and having her either hate or be afraid of him, then so be it. That was better than not having her at all.

Coldly, he told her, “Cry all you want. I told you what you need to do to get back in my good graces. It’s up to you, love. You know damn well how patient I can be. Just give me what I want and you can be comfortable. Those are the rules.”

With that, he turned away from her and grabbed fresh bandages off his table. He would get a crew member to re-wrap his hands for him since Y/N was disposed at the moment. He tossed her another glance, and she was watching him apprehensively, sniffling. He looked away, gritting his teeth before leaving the cabin, slamming the door behind him, having confidence this time that Y/N would not go missing if he left her alone.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

[javierpenaspinkshirt]

A Hundred Questions.

Mando x Reader - One Shot

Warnings: it’s fluffy and it’s soft and it’s a lil bit sweet. Loose Star Wars lore. Brief mentions of death. Dodgy formatting.

Words: 5.2k (woah, right?)

Summary: Mando is a touch starved man who just wants to be loved send tweet.

A/N: I wrote this while I was meant to be writing several reports for work so if you enjoy this soft rambling lmk so I can tell my boss I didn’t waste my whole day.

A Hundred Questions

It had been 6 months, you worked out, since you had met the Mandalorian.

He had landed on Jakku for supplies, knowing it was on an old trade route but also knowing it was only a mere few years on from the battle that had finally seen the Empire fall. He had assumed it would be largely empty and fairly quiet and he was right.

Mando had docked the Razor Crest in one of the bays you were overseeing that day. You’d had to stop your jaw dropping when you had seen him walking down the ramp of his ship towards you. You had seen a lot in your life, but never a Mandalorian. He had sauntered over to you and tipped a few credits into your hand.

‘I need some rewiring done’ his voice was gruff and tired, ‘will this be enough to get it done before I return?’

You looked at the credits in your hand, it was more cash than you had seen in years.

‘Absolutely’ you replied, ‘I’ll have her like new in no time’.

He nodded and walked passed you to leave. You turned to watch him go only to see what looked like a large green ear sticking out of the backpack the Mandalorian was wearing. You knew Mandos were often bounty hunters so you thought nothing more of it, only that it was none of your business.

You did your job and fixed up the ship as best you could. Your dad had been a mechanic before the war. He’d taught you everything he knew and though you had groaned and whined at the time, you were so grateful to him now. You had lost both of your parents and your siblings in the Battle of Jakku a few years ago. You had only survived because you had been underground working in the mines as the battle had begun. You and your fellow miners had hidden and waited out the siege. Eventually you had resurfaced to learn that the battle had been won by the Republic, but the fighting continued on for months until the last Imp dropped.

Mercifully you had survived the onslaught, but not everyone in your company had had your luck. Though you used the term ‘luck’ loosely.

The Imperial forces had arrived on Jakku months before the battle ensued, and in that time they had terrorised the locals. Your existence was an insult to them and they would assault and even kill residents simply for being there. But when the the last one finally dropped you couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. You were on your own, and you had to get off this planet.

You had spent years working as a mechanic in one of the few lasting ship ports and had saved as much money as you could. You were hoping to be able to afford a small ship just to be able to get the hell away from Jakku and find somewhere, anywhere, else to be.

So when the Mandalorian returned from his trip for supplies you figured you would try and rinse him for a few extra credits. Every little helps, right?

He was walking with purpose towards you and the Crest, bag stuffed full of supplies and a tiny green child, like nothing you had ever seen before, waddling behind him.

‘Is it done?’ He asked, stopping to stand beside you and admire your handy work.

‘Yeah all done no problem, but I’m going to have to charge you for parts’ you wiped your hands on your overalls and put your hands on your hips to look up at him, hoping it made you look important and serious.

‘I’m not paying for anything extra’ the helmet turned to look down at you, ‘I asked for wiring, nothing more’.

His voice was low and gravelly. It made your stomach flip and you lost your cool.

‘Hey you asked me to fix what I could and I did, this thing is gonna fly better than it did when it was built, mate! I need the money for parts!’

‘Absolutely not’ was the only response you received before he bent down to scoop up the strange green child who was cooing at his feet, and began to walk aboard the ship.

‘Wait!’ You called, running up the gang plank to catch him ‘please! Please I need this, please! You don’t understand’ the desperation caught in your throat as you ran passed him and stood in front of him to stop him walking up any further.

‘Please’ you lowered your voice and looked around to make sure none of the other mechanics, or god forbid the boss, could hear you pleading, ‘please, I have to get out of here, I need the money’.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew the Mandalorian was staring you down, making a judgment of you and deciding whether you were worth his time.

‘What are you like with kids?’

Your eyes widened, ‘excuse me?’

He held the little green child close to his chest and looked down at him. The baby cooed at him and made a little grabby motion at the helmet.

‘Can you look after a child?’

The truth was you’d never met a child you liked. You had had several siblings before the war and as the oldest you had often been stuck babysitting, and rather than hone any kind of parental instinct you may have had it had dragged it behind the barn and shot it dead. You adored your siblings of course, and you missed them endlessly, but you would rather have been their sibling than their surrogate parent. Children were your nightmare, but if the small green boy was your ticket out of here… Then you guessed you were going to have to learn to like him.

‘I can’ you agreed, ‘but I’m not a glorified babysitter y’know, I’m a mechanic and a damn good one!’

‘I know, you would be a valuable crew mate. I don’t need a babysitter, I need a mechanic and someone I can trust around the child’, his helmet dropped to look at the baby again. If you could have seen his face you would’ve seen the smile spread across it as he looked down at his little foundling.

‘Trust is very important to me’ you explained, ‘I promise I wont let you down’.

The Mandalorian straightened and sighed, ‘go grab whatever you need and meet me back here in an hour. If you’re not here, I will leave without you’.

Your eyes widened and you darted off the ship calling out behind you that you’d be back soon.

That had been 6 months ago. Since then you had been travelling with Mando and the little boy and it was the freest you had ever felt. You’d fallen into comfortable routine with your time split between him piloting and securing jobs and you maintaining the old ship, keeping her flying and keeping her safe. You shared taking care of the child and, despite your initial reservation, you had fallen in love with the little creature. He was different to human children, he needed more supervision than care and was capable of moving himself around the ship with alarming speed. He’d often sit beside you, fiddling with bolts or some of your tools while you fixed things and he’d watch with those big inquisitive eyes as you grumbled about the mess the wiring was in or rambled on with stories of your childhood. He made you miss your siblings but you pushed those painful feelings aside whenever they arose, instead choosing to tell the little one stories of happy times with your family, especially your dad. He would smile and cock his head as you spoke to him.

Occasionally Mando would listen from the cockpit if you were close enough for him to hear. You never really spoke to him about your family… but that was largely because he didn’t ask. Usually you’d sit with him of an evening once the child was asleep. He’d be in the pilot’s seat and you would sit behind him and ask him a hundred mindless questions. Sometimes he’d answer, sometimes he’d just grunt, but he enjoyed the way your mind worked. He had explained to you early on about the rules about his helmet and he had been relieved when you had immediately respected them. You would make the occasional joke,

‘Bet you’re a gungan under there’ you’d smirk.

Like he hadn’t heard that one before. But he didn’t mind because it was you. You would ask him about his armour, about the creed, you’d even once asked about his family. He’d revealed that he was a foundling but nothing more. You had got the hint and stopped your questioning.

This evening was no different. Mando had secured a job on some outer rim planet you’d never even heard of and you were only an hour or so away from landing. The child had nodded off so you’d left him in the cot in the hull where the two of you usually slept, leaving the door open so you could hear if he stirred from the cockpit.

You resumed your usual position in the co-pilot’s chair and started your usual barrage of questions. Mando grunted at most of them and answered a few.

‘So tell me then, Mandalorian’ you crooned ‘when was the last time you took the helmet off?’

‘This morning’ was the typically blunt answer.

‘Okay but when?’

He spun round in his chair to look at you, beskar glinting, ‘this morning when you were feeding the child’.

‘I’m gonna have to get sneakier if I’m going to ever catch a glimpse of you aren’t I?’ you chuckled.

He let out a gentle exhale. He knew you were joking, he trusted you never to look as you promised you wouldn’t. But he still felt a well of anxiety when you’d joke.

You sensed you’d gone too far and backtracked, ‘sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I was only playing. I would never, Mando. I promise, I owe you my life I’m not going to be the one to ruin yours’.

He cocked his head to the left gently and you hoped it was because he was smiling.

The truth was you hadn’t ruined his life. You’d turned it upside down a little but he didn’t mind. After the events of the last year, protecting the child, having to go on the run, having to face down Moff Gideon and almost dying… being out here with you and his foundling was the escape he craved. He had mentioned Cara to you briefly but he offered no detail as to the origin of the child or any stories about what had lead him to arrive on Jakku and meet you.

He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet and he knew you understood. Though you could question him for hours about all sorts of inane crap, you were good at taking no for an answer.

But the one thing you would bring up consistently was his helmet. He knew you were curious. You wanted to know who the man under the Beskar was and he understood that. He got to look at you all day, see the way you smiled at the child or the way your brow furrowed when you were thinking. He got to see your body, clothed of course, but he got to see the way your hips swayed when you walked or the way the muscles in your arms worked when you were lying down trying to fix something on the ship. You hadn’t even seen the colour of his skin.

He wanted to show you more of him. He had slowly and cautiously admitted feelings for you to himself but he wasn’t ready to admit them to you yet. In the last month or so he had started putting his forehead against yours, especially before he went to bed. You would get up to go down to the hull to curl up with the baby while he would stay upstairs in the sleeping quarters behind the cockpit. But he’d make a point of gently pulling you to him and putting his forehead against yours for just a moment. You never questioned it but he could feel the way your body would tense when he held your arms and then relax as he gently tapped the helmet against you. He didn’t think you knew what this gesture meant and he wasn’t going to explain it. But he hoped you were getting the hint without him having to say anything.

He was still looking at you, waiting for your next question of the night when there was an almighty thump and the ship shuddered violently. Without thought or hesitation you were out of your seat and down the ladder into the hull. The little one had woken up at the jolt and squealed as you scooped him up and ran back up to the cockpit.

Another clang and all the lights bar the dashboard control and the dodgy LED emergency lighting went out. The cockpit was dark save for the blue lights of the dashboard and the child squealed again and clung to your clothes. You sat down in the co-pilot chair and hung for dear life, holding the child as tightly as you dared.

‘Hold on’ Mando commanded as he threw the ship around, dodging what you could now see were meteors and space junk flying at the Crest at alarming speed. The planet you were headed towards was well in view now and you hoped to gods that Mando could get you there without doing too much more damage to the ship.

A few more minor knocks and a few hisses from the engines and Mando managed to land on a baron plain, covered with what must be ash, with no sign of a moon or sun and a dark cloud swelling.

‘This… is where the job is?’ You looked out of the window, holding the child up so he could see where his father had almost crash landed you.

‘Yes. Sorry I shouldn’t have taken my eye off the controls… the meteors knocked the lights and the heat out’ He flicked a few switches but to no avail and slumped back in his chair.

‘Can you fix it?’ He turned the chair to look at you.

‘I can but not until morning, its dark and I wont be able to see properly even with a flashlight. I’d have to go outside to see the damage but if I’m honest I don’t really wanna do that tonight… even with you standing guard’.

Mando agreed and stood up, ‘it’s going to be too cold for you and the kid in the hull tonight, you’ll have to stay in my quarters’.

A lump caught in your throat, ‘with you?’ You hadn’t meant for it to sound quite as eager as it did but it was out there now.

‘No’ was the matter of fact reply, ‘I’ll be here, I can sleep in the chair.’

‘No way, Mando, if you’re going on a job tomorrow you need to sleep, you can have the child in your room, I’ll stay here’ you stood up to make a point.

He sighed. The baby whimpered gently, he was cold. You held him close and wrapped him in the cloak you were wearing. It used to be an old cape Mando wore but it had been ripped and was way too short for him. You adopted it and patched it up and proudly wore it everywhere, it was your little piece of him. Now you used it to wrap the little one tightly to try and warm him.

The temperature outside was freezing and without the heat in the ship you would all be feeling the cold in no time.

Mando finally stirred, ‘I have an idea.’

You looked at him as he sunk down on to his haunches in front of you. He took hold of the loose end of the cape you were holding the baby in and took a knife from his boot. He cut a small length from the cape and held it out to you.

‘Take this. Go into my room, get the baby settled and get yourself comfortable. Then put this over your eyes and call for me’ he was so matter of fact about it that you didn’t question it, just did as you were told.

You had never actually been in Mando’s sleeping quarters before. It was a small room, no kind of decoration or homely nature to it, classic Mando. There was a single cot in the corner against the wall that you assumed he would make you sleep on, you knew him well enough not to fight him on that. You put the baby down on the floor, still wrapped in your cloak. His eyes were drooping and he was gently cooing to himself.

‘Getting sleepy, little one? You can sleep here, I’ll get you your blankets and we’ll make you a nice bed, yeah?’ You spoke to him softly and he lifted his little hand to you. You took his hand and gave it gentle kiss before zipping down to the hull to grab the blankets the two of you usually shared. It was freezing in the hull and you were grateful to Mando for insisting you slept in his room.

You went back to his quarters and swaddled the baby tightly. You put him on the floor at the foot of the cot so you could still hear him if he woke up but wouldn’t squish him or accidentally kick him out of the small bed in your sleep. He drifted off as you were positioning him comfortably, you thanked your stars.

You had grabbed a long tunic from the hull and changed into that, discarding your clothes and boots on the floor. You felt the cold and dived under the thin covers on the cot and put the makeshift blindfold over your eyes.

‘I’ve got the blindfold on’ you called, a slightly inappropriate thought raced to the front of your mind but you shoved it back before any damage was done.

You heard the door open and close and the gentle thud of Mando’s boots on the floor. The room was completely dark save for one small port hole on the far wall. You probably didn’t even need the blindfold, you couldn’t have seen him anyway! But you knew the blindfold helped his peace of mind.

You sat in the bed as you listened to the delicate, dull thuds of pieces of beskar being removed. You tried to guess what was what by the weight of the thud but you gave up after the third piece. Finally the quite clanging stopped and a heavy silence hung in the air.

‘You promise me you wont take that blindfold off?’ His voice was still modulated, the helmet still on.

‘I promise’.

There was a gentle hiss and a click and a quite thunk as he put the helmet down on the floor. You heard him move closer to you then drop what you guessed were blankets on the floor. You could hear him shuffling around, laying one blanket on the floor then covering himself with the other. He was still at last.

‘Good night, Mando’ you whispered into the blackness.

No response but an un-gloved hand reached up from his makeshift bed on the floor and gently squeezed yours.

Your whole body tingled. You couldn’t see him, or anything at all for that matter, but that was the first skin to skin contact you had ever had with your usually beskar-clad hero. You placed your other hand on top of his and squeezed back. That was enough for him and he removed his hand and you heard him wriggle a little until he was silent again.

What you didn’t know was that his heart was racing. He hadn’t felt the touch of another person for longer than he cared to count and it was all the more wild that it was you he had finally been able to touch.

But the memory of the last time he had had his helmet removed haunted him and clouded the joy he so wanted to feel. The flashbacks came occasionally; the explosion, the ringing in his ears and the blood. He’d had to tell Cara to take the child and to run for their lives. He had laid there in the rubble and dust, smoke filling the air and a droid, that would later go on to sacrifice itself for him, standing over him reasoning as to why it should take his helmet off.

In the end he had relented and allowed it to and IG had saved his life. But the trauma of the whole ordeal was still too fresh to ignore and lying on the cold floor of his room, completely exposed without any of his armour was almost too much to bear.

He wanted to sit up and slide himself into bed next to you and hold you, if for nothing more than comfort. He’d been alone for so long and suddenly he had a foundling, a family of friends, and a crew mate he wished was more than just crew. It was a lot to take in but you were pretty good at calming his nerves when he needed it. There had been a few instances when bounties had proven to be tougher than expected but you had always been there waiting for him to return, somehow knowing all the right things to say but you had never dared reach out and touch him, fearing it would offend or upset him. Really it was what he wanted most.

Sensing the restless body on the floor beside you you attempted to reach out and feel where he was. Your icy cold hand made contact with his bare shoulder and he hissed and shot away from you.

‘Shit sorry I didn’t realise you were so close!’ You whispered, trying your best not to laugh but a small snort escaped you and you clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent another.

‘What are you? Part Trandoshan? You must be cold blooded!’ his response was sharp but there was humour in it.

‘Trandoshan? Tall, fearsome, not a fan of Wookiees? You got me’ you giggled quietly again but stopped abruptly when you realised that was the first time you had ever heard his voice un-modulated.

You could hear him breathing slightly heavily from the shock and you took in every breath not knowing whether you would ever hear it without the helmet again.

He settled back down and calmed himself. The shock of the freezing hand on his arm had shaken him from his rapid thoughts of lava tunnels and enemy fire and left his heart racing again.

‘Are you really that cold?’ He whispered up at you.

You nodded but realised he couldn’t see you and rolled over so you were on your front looking down at him, ‘I’m from a desert planet, I don’t do cold! But I’ll be fine once I’m asleep’.

Mando formulated a plan but first he quietly sat up to look at the foot of the bed. He moved to his hands and knees silently and knelt down as he touched his hand to the child’s sleeping forehead. He felt warm enough, safely enveloped in the blankets you had wrapped him in and happily snoring in deep sleep. Mando smiled to himself.

Then, before you could ask a question or protest, Mando pushed you over to the edge of the cot and against the wall. His hands were warm as he gently scooted you over and awkwardly fumbled with the covers as he got in beside you. He was trying to be as quiet as possible but the bed frame creaked, only used to having to support one body.

‘You’ll wake the kid!’ You hissed.

He shushed you and flipped you so that your back was against his torso. He slipped an arm under your neck and draped the other over your ribs and pulled you tight against him. He reached up with the arm under your neck and gently checked the blindfold was still in place.

You smiled at his abundance of caution ‘it’s still there’, you reassured him ‘not that I could see you without it anyway, it’s so dark’.

He huffed gently and put his arm back down and held you close to him.

He was bare chest but radiating heat like a small thermal oscillator. You sunk into him not wanting to cause too much of a fuss in case you put him off and he went back to the floor. But you desperately wanted him to talk to you. You wanted to hear his voice and see what he sounded like when he laughed and you desperately wanted to know what he looked like. You knew you couldn’t see him and you wouldn’t ask to, but maybe you could feel him?

You began to wriggle as slowly as possible to avoid the bed squeaking too much and rolled yourself over so that you were lying on your other side, face to face with Mando. You made sure the blindfold was in place and put your hands down in the small gap between your bodies so as not to touch him with them and startle him with the cold again.

He still had an arm under your neck and the other now gently traced circles on your back.

‘Mando?’ you began.

He grunted back at you and you had to stifle another laugh. Even in the most intimate moment you’d ever shared his immediate response was to grunt at you.

‘Mando… can I touch you? Is that allowed?’

His breathing hitched and you felt him shift ever so slightly and you feared you’d done exactly what you were afraid of and crossed a line.

He moved his arm from your back and took your hands in his. His one hand was big enough to envelop both of yours and you had to smother another inappropriate thought before it blossomed.

‘Not until these are warmer’ he whispered giving your hands a squeeze.

You beamed at him and you hoped he could see you even just a little bit to know how happy you were at the possibility of actually being allowed to touch your Mandalorian’s skin.

He couldn’t see you, but your faces were close enough that he could feel the way you sucked in air in an excited gasp as he said it and he was sure you were smiling at him.

He carefully brought your hands up to his chest and rested them there, letting go and returning his hand to your back and pulling you closer still so that your bodies were touching, his chin resting carefully on the crown of your head.

You spent a few moments just taking in everything you could about him. His skin was soft but scarred. You traced scars and old wounds across his back and his chest. His shoulders were tough and knotted, muscular but tired from carrying the weight of the beskar pauldrons every day since he was little. Every scar told a story and maybe one day you’d be allowed to see them, not just feel them, and you’d be able to ask a hundred questions about how and where… but for now you just gently dipped your fingers into every mark that made him who he was.

You moved up to his neck and felt his heart rate racing as your hands edged closer to his face. You stopped just below his jaw and shifted your head up to look at him. As was normal to you now, you couldn’t see his eyes so you just stared where you hoped they were.

He gave you a timid nod and you breathed in hard as you slowly moved your hands up to his jawline. There was stubble, maybe a few days worth. You wondered if he shaved often? His jawline was sharp and defined, you had imagined it as such. You gently moved your fingers along it, taking in every dip of his mandible that indicated an old injury, every mark you could feel that could have once been a wound, and enjoyed the knowledge that even a proud warrior couldn’t always be bothered to shave.

You left one hand at his jaw and moved the other up his cheek, stroking it gently with your thumb, and moved across to his nose. It was pronounced but fitted the shape of his face beautifully. You would have to imagine how striking his side profile must be. There was a scar across it and little ridge at the bridge that suggested that maybe it had been broken once. You weren’t going to ask now.

You carefully traced a thumb over his closed eye, his eyelashes long and his eyebrows unkempt but not wild – a little like him maybe. You moved up his forehead, more scars and bruising, you wondered exactly how much good that helmet did him. Finally you found his hair and you ran your hand through it and pulled ever so slightly. It was longer than you imagined but not so long that he didn’t care for it. The fact it was at the length it was meant he must cut his own hair, that was enough to pull a smile out of you.

He felt you smile against him and he winced slightly, afraid you were laughing at his messy hair or his bruised face. You rubbed your other hand against his jaw.

‘What colour is you hair?’ The question was tentative, walking on thin ice and unsure how far was too far.

‘Brown’ he whispered, the bass in his voice making your soul leap a little.

You moved your hand back down to his eyelid, ‘and these?’

‘Also brown’ the whisper was even quieter now.

‘Mando, I think you’re beautiful’ you said it as sincerely as you could. You meant it.

He didn’t respond, just lay there still as anything, holding you against him.

You rested your palm on his cheek, feeling the stubble under it as he moved his head to look down at you. He put his forehead against yours as delicately as he could.

You could have stayed there for a hundred years. Wrapped in his arms, his forehead pressed to yours, feeling his breathing slow as his heart rate settled, his skin against yours.

But he moved, and you were afraid that was the end until he took his hand from your back and used it to tilt your chin up towards his face.

You felt his lips against yours and it was like an explosion had been let off inside you. It was tentative and cautious but he held your chin firm, not wanting you to move away from him. His lips were soft, a little chapped, but so undeniably him. Firm but inviting, hesitant but wanting.

He moved his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, being careful not to knock the blindfold and broke the kiss. He put his forehead back against yours and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You put your hands back on his chest and lay still with him. He would kiss you again but he would need a minute first. And that was fine by you. This was unchartered territory for him and you would give him as long as he needed. There would be time for a hundred questions later.