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mandos-mind-trick · 11 months

Text

00:00 (Zero O'Clock)

Summary: On the run from your family, you meet your soulmate after he's sent to retrieve you. Can he offer you what you've been yearning for since your mark first appeared? Or will he turn out to be just like everyone else in your life?

Loosely based on the BTS song of the same name.

Pairing: Hunter x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, some brief mention of kink related things, brief mention of a knife kink, canon typical violence, some semi-descriptive mentions of abuse and child abuse, some angst, lots of fluff, as usual reader has a backstory for plot.

A/N: I'm trying a bit of a new format with this one, at least as to how the story progresses. I'm not sure about the beginning, but let me know what you think.

MASTERLIST

Five Minutes.

Your legs are aching almost as much as your lungs, but you don’t stop.

You can’t stop.

Tree roots and vines threaten to trip you with every step, but you push onwards. Get to town. You just have to get to town and you can stop.

Three minutes.

The timer on your wrist is like some twisted countdown. When it appeared over ten years ago, you were confused. Your soulmate couldn’t be that much younger than you. You had thought perhaps they were a different species, one that matures faster than others.

Ten years, forty-seven days, six hours, and fifteen minutes.

That had been the number seared onto your skin one day, the numbers slowly counting down as time went on. You tried to mark the exact day on the calendar, but it was difficult. You went off galactic standard time, as your countdown seemed to match how the hours and days passed for you.

You daydreamed constantly about your soulmate. You researched species after species, trying to find any sort of answer you could as to why your soulmate mark had shown up so late.

It wasn’t until the war when things began making sense.

It wasn’t until the war that things began falling apart for you.

The sudden appearance of the clone army, millions upon millions of beings created over the ten years before the war started, answered many people’s questions. Millions upon millions of beings in the galaxy that had lived for years without a soulmate link suddenly having theirs appear in the last ten years.

Your soulmate’s a clone.

Your father was not pleased.

Your home planet was not part of the Republic. It had always been independent, and once the war started, the governing body decided to side with the Separatists. Your father was a loyal supporter of this decision, funneling your family’s vast wealth and resources to aiding the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

You thought the entire war was stupid. Why couldn’t people just be happy with being either part of the Republic or not?

The first time you spoke out against it in front of your father, he dragged you from the room and beat you with his belt.

The second time you spoke out against it, at a dinner with several important political figures including your grandfather, he beat you right there in the dining hall.

When he discovered your soulmate timer, it got worse.

He tried everything he could to remove it.

You knew it was useless. Even cutting the skin off with a knife, the mark would only appear again as it healed. Burns, scars, even chopping the limb off wouldn’t work. It would simply appear elsewhere.

Your father thankfully never went that far.

Your hatred towards him only deepened as time went on.

News of your grandfather’s death reaches you shortly before the end of the war. You don’t cry. You barely knew him, and what you knew of him was that he was equally as cruel as your father.

As the war ends, so does the Republic.

Shortly after, the Empire is on your doorstep demanding allegiance. They get it, and the occupation begins.

Six months later, you run away.

You run and keep running. A month later, the bounty hunters begin appearing. You evade them easily enough, and when you can’t evade them, you make sure they can’t follow you.

It’s been almost a year since the war ended. Your timer is still steadily counting down. Your soulmate is still alive somewhere. You debate trying to find them, but you know finding clones means getting close to the Empire. You know nothing good would come from getting caught by the Empire. Even worse, they might return you home.

Two minutes.

Your feet hit solid ground, relieved to be free of the damp mud you had been running through for the past ten minutes. You race into town, hoping to lose him.

He had appeared an hour ago, your little shack that had been offering you reprieve his target. He’s here for you, sent by the Empire or your father, you’re not sure. Either way, you’re not keen to find out.

You were gone long before he reached your abandoned hut. You had headed towards town, hoping to reach the spaceport and convince someone to take you to their next stop before he even noticed you weren’t in the hut anymore.

Except it was a long trek to town, and this wasn’t a normal bounty hunter.

The first shot had narrowly missed you.

A warning.

You had taken off running, zig-zagging through trees as fast as you could. The shots had followed right behind you until they had died out, leaving nothing but the sound of the jungle, and your own heavy breathing.

He’s right behind you. You know he is. You should have run for it from the start.

You desperately need to stop. You need air, your lungs beginning to spasm painfully. You’re not going to get much farther without a reprieve. You hope you can lose him in the evening crowd, ducking into an alley.

You press your back against the wall, putting a hand to your wheezing chest. Your eyes screw shut for a moment, urging air back into your lungs. Your legs are trembling like they may give out under you, but you know you don’t have long. He’s probably already in town. You need to stay ahead of him. Pray you can catch someone leaving at the spaceport and escape.

One minute.

Your soulmate is about to appear. Maybe they’ll help you get out of this mess. You can’t reach the spaceport in that short amount of time. You glance at both ends of the alley. There’s no one. So who-

A hand wraps around your throat, slamming your back against the wall behind you. Your hand is quick to grab your knife, aiming it for the throat, but his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping it.

“Give up, kid.” He drawls, tightening his grip around your wrist until you’re forced to drop the knife. “You’re not going to win this.”

You struggle against his hold, even though you know he’s right.

30 seconds.

Just thirty more seconds. You can fight that long.

You drive your knee up into his stomach, but he doesn’t release you. His grip tightens around your throat, black dots beginning to form in your vision. You drive your fist into his elbow, his arm bending awkwardly. His fingers slip from your throat and you inhale sharply, your vision swimming for a moment.

“Let her go.”

You both look up in shock at the voice. Modulated by a familiar looking helmet, grey with an orange stripe down the middle. He’s standing at the entry to the alley, blaster drawn and pointed at the bounty hunter.

“She’s my quarry.” The bounty hunter says, hand dropping to his own blaster. “I found her first.”

You quickly duck, covering your head as the shots ring out. Your gaze is drawn down to your timer, eyes widening a bit.

00:00:00:00:00

This is your soulmate?

You push yourself back up, glancing at the body of the bounty hunter for a moment before your gaze falls on the clone. His armor is pieced together, lacking the normal consistency you associated with clones and their armor. Had you been wrong? Is he not a clone after all?

“It’s you.” You whisper, dropping the knife from your hand.

“Give up the fight, kid.” He says, voice distorted by his helmet, blaster trained on you now.

You make a face. “I’m not a kid. I’m older than you.” You press your back against the wall. “When I pictured us meeting, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

He tilts his head, and you can picture the confusion on his face. You hold up your arm, revealing your soulmate timer now at zero. He lowers his head slightly, looking at it. He glances down at his own arm for a moment before lowering his blaster. You watch him fiddle with his vambrace, tugging it down with his sleeve enough to reveal tanned skin underneath. He’s quiet, staring down at his skin for a few moments.

You could run. You could use his distraction to try and escape.

You don’t want to. You had been destined to meet at this moment. Since your creation, maybe even before.

Maybe he can help you.

But he was sent after you.

He wouldn’t really return you to your father, would he? You had heard about clones being forced to reject their soulmates under the Republic. Was the Empire enforcing that too? He wouldn’t...would he?

Your legs are shaking still, your body exhausted from running for so long. Always on edge, always watching your back. You slip down the wall, sitting on the ground. You stare up at him, finding him watching you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask.

“No.” He says, straightening up a bit. “We were sent after you by a third party.”

“Oh.” You say, nodding. “Are you...going to take me back to my father?”

He stares at you quietly for a long time. This was going to complicate things for both of you. Would he still return you to your father, even now knowing you’re his soulmate? Did you try to run, leave behind your soulmate to try and save yourself? You know it’s only going to get harder to be apart from here. Now that you’ve met, the longing will start, the need to be close.

That’s why the Republic wanted clones to reject their soulmates. Not even the best programming can undo the natural need to be close to one’s soulmate.

“I’ve caught her.” He speaks into his comm. “Get back to the ship and meet us at the spaceport.”

“You should just reject me now.” You say, and he looks at you again. You wish you could see his face, read his expressions. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? At least, that’s what the Republic wanted.” You shrug. “It’ll hurt less for you later when my father decides to kill me.”

“Why would he go through all this trouble to get you back if he’s just going to kill you?” He asks, stepping closer.

You snort. “You don’t know anything about me, do you?”

“You’re a runaway rich kid, and your father is willing to pay a lot to get you back.” He says, wrapping a hand around your arm. He hauls you to your feet far too easily, spinning you so you’re pressed against the wall.

“Moving a bit fast, aren’t we?” You quip, his hands gripping your wrists behind you.

“Can it, kid.” He grunts, cuffing your arms behind your back.

“I’m not a kid.” You huff, tugging against his hold, but you quickly give in.

This wasn’t what you were expecting when you pictured meeting your soulmate. Of course, you’d spent most of the war hearing nothing but propaganda against the Republic and the clone army, so you really didn’t know what to expect. They’re not quite the mindless soldiers like you’d been told, at least that’s what you’d discern since this group was apparently working independently of the Empire.

“You’re making a mistake.” You say as he takes your arm, tugging you towards the end of the alley.

“I’m sure you see it that way.” He says, leading you onward.

You plant your feet, trying to get him to look at you. “No, I’m trying to warn you. If you actually bothered to look into who I am, you never would have taken this job in the first place.”

He finally stops, turning to look at you. “Why do you care?”

“You’re deserters, aren’t you? I’ve only heard propaganda, and seen clones in passing once, but I do know most of them are loyal to the Empire now. Most of them aren’t out here playing mercenary and bounty hunter. You received coordinates for a place to drop me off, right? Somewhere in the D’Astan sector? You know what that sector looks like right now? It’s crawling with Imperial troops and ships. The war had barely ended and they were already invading. I ran because my father is a cruel man who spent my whole life beating me to submission. He’s a weak man who can’t stand things not being in his control. The Empire has completely taken over and I’m one of the few things he has left he can control. I don’t want that.”

He stares at you for a while. You know he’s thinking over your words. He won’t trust you, not completely. If you can just get to him a little, though, you may be able to save your own skin, and maybe his as well.

“You’re my soulmate.” It feels unreal saying those words. You’d pictured it a thousand times, and yet, none of them had come close. “If nothing else, trust me on that basis. I know you’ve been told your whole life to reject me. I don’t want you to.”

He stares at you for a moment longer before turning, tugging you along as he makes his way towards the starport. Tears prick your vision. You have no idea what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. For all you know, he doesn’t believe you and he’ll take the risk returning you to your father.

He has no reason to trust you.

For all you know, he’s going to reject you.

If that’s the case, though, why hasn’t he done it yet?

“Can I at least know your name?” You ask softly, looking up at him.

He stays silent, walking you into the starport. Thankfully it’s late enough that it's not very busy. This looks bad, it looks really bad for you.

“Hunter!”

Of all things a child runs towards you two.

“We were getting worried.” The child says as Hunter leads you towards an Omicron-class ship.

He leads you up the steps, three more clones inside. Well, at least you think they’re clones. None of them quite look the same, at least size and height-wise. One is lankier and is wearing goggles, the other is a giant of a man, and the third has a cybernetic arm and legs.

Hunter pushes you down into one of the seats rather roughly, pointing his finger in your face. “Don’t move.” He says threateningly, leaving you sitting there.

It’s not like you have much of a choice. There’s not much room to move anyway, as the large one and the child join you. The ship rumbles as it comes to life, forcing you to press back into the seat as it lifts off the ground. Your arms are pressed uncomfortably behind you, hands going numb as the cuffs cut off circulation.

Your stomach churns with the familiar jump to hyperspace, Hunter not returning until the ship is well on its way to most likely your drop off point. You’re nervous, not just for yourself. Hunter must not have believed you. You’re sad for them, and yourself.

The large one pulls off his helmet with a sigh. Though he’s very large, his face is unmistakably that of a clone’s. They really must have been hired by a third party. Your father never would have stooped that low. He’s in for one hell of a surprise when they show up to hand you off.

Your gaze is pulled away from the big one as Hunter enters the hull, removing his own helmet. He doesn’t look like you expect a clone to. His hair is long, held back by a red bandana. He has the rugged face of a clone, but the left half is covered in a skull tattoo. It’s intimidating, just like his gaze as it burns into you.

The one with the cybernetics follows him, his helmet removed as well. He’s paler and gaunter than the others, a headset wrapped around his head. He takes a seat at the computer, typing rapidly.

“If what you said is true, we can’t risk turning you in.” Hunter says.

“Why would I lie to you?” You ask, though you already know the answer.

“To save your own skin.” He says. “I believe you, that you were running for a reason. But that could be any reason. Not just the story you told me.”

“Then by all means.” You say, trying to get comfortable with your hands behind your back. “Research away.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, part of the screen visible over their heads from where you’re sitting. You are telling the truth to them. You have no reason to lie. Especially not to your soulmate.

“You’re a Separatist?” Cybernetics asks you.

You roll your eyes. “You know, just because someone lived on a Separatist planet doesn't mean they were Separatists too. I hated them. I thought the war was stupid. Why couldn’t they just be happy not being part of the Republic and the Republic just leave them alone?”

“I think it was a bit more complex than that.” Hunter says.

You roll your eyes again. “Well, it’s not like I was ever getting the truth there. We were fed Separatist propaganda for years, even before the war started.”

The ship goes quiet again, broken only by the sound of Cybernetics typing at the computer.

"She's telling the truth." He finally says, breaking the quiet. "Imperial files have that whole sector listed under their control.”

“We can’t risk revealing ourselves.” Hunter says. “But we need those credits.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes once more. “If you bothered to check my bag, you’d see I have plenty of credits in there.”

Their eyes fall to where your bag has been placed on the chair behind them. Hunter opens your bag, digging through until he finds the box of credits. He opens it, looking inside.

“That’s far more than we’ll get from Cid for this job.” Cybernetics says.

“You can have them.” You say. “It’s my dad’s money anyway. I took what he had on hand before I left.”

“You’d just let us take this.” Hunter asks speculatively.

“If it means saving both our skins and keeping me from having to see my father ever again, then yes. You can have my whole bag, if you’d like.”

Hunter stares down at the credits for a moment before heading into the cockpit once more.

“Hey, Cybernetics.” You call before he can follow Hunter.

“My name’s Echo.” He says with a frown, obviously offended by your nickname.

“Okay, how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you’ve been very hospitable.” You shrug as he disappears into the cockpit too. You nearly jump out of your skin as you turn, finding the child standing next to you. “Oh my, you’re a sneaky little thing.”

“Sorry.” She laughs. “My name’s Omega. That’s Wrecker.” The giant clone waves.

You nod back, your arms still cuffed behind your back. “Hello.”

Hunter reappears, coming to stand in front of you. “If you’re tricking us in any way, I will not hesitate to shoot you.”

“If you knew the things my dad did to me growing up, the things he would do to me if he ever got his hands on me again, you wouldn’t hesitate to trust me when I say I want absolutely nothing to do with him or the Empire.” You stare into his eyes as he kneels in front of you. “He’s a horrible man and he can waste all of his money and resources looking for me for all I care.”

Hunter undoes your cuffs, and you rub your sore wrists. “We’ll drop you off on the next inhabited planet we can find.”

You frown. “So that’s it? We’re not even going to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says, turning his back to you as he sits at the computer.

“Like hell there isn’t. If you’re that dead set, then just reject me now and get it over with so we can both move on with our lives.”

“I can’t trust you.” He says over his shoulder.

“I’m not asking you to trust me.” Your voice wavers a bit. “I’m asking you to talk to me. Either talk to me, or just reject me and get it over with.”

***

The ship is quiet as it floats aimlessly through space. You gaze out the viewport at the thousands of stars in front of you. Hunter is in the seat across from you, his seat turned to face yours.

“I have to protect them.” He says. “If anything happens to them...”

“I know.” You nod, turning to look at him. “They’re lucky to have you. All my life I’ve been wishing for someone to care that much about me. Someone who would protect me. My mother was always too scared he’d turn on her if she said anything. It wasn’t long after the war started that I figured it out, that my soulmate was a clone. My father wasn’t happy about it. He tried everything he could to remove my timer. It never worked.”

Hunter tenses a bit at your words. It feels good, talking about it finally. Even if he did decide nothing was to come of your link, it still felt good to tell someone about what had happened to you. You’ve never had that chance before.

“I never thought much about my link.” Hunter says, turning his gaze out the viewport. “I couldn’t. The Kaminoans created the rules about seeking out soulmates and the Republic agreed. I didn’t have time, anyway. We were always moving, always on a mission. I hoped the war would end before the timer reached zero. I’m not sure I could have rejected my soulmate. Most of the clones ignored those rules. They kept their links, secretly keeping contact with their soulmates.” He shakes his head. “I figured it would happen when it happened. I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“What, that you’d desert the army and wind up bounty hunting your soulmate who was a Separatist?”

“Something like that.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Where do we go from here, Hunter?” You ask, turning to look at him. You take in his profile. The skull tattoo, the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He’s handsome. Ruggedly handsome. Not totally what you would consider your type, but perhaps the link to him was more than just looks.

You’d been raised with the idea of becoming someone’s trophy. You’d never hold power in your own family. You’d be someone’s pretty little wife who served drinks and made babies and made her husband look good. You’d marry someone just like your father who would beat you with a belt if you spoke out in opposition against him.

Then your mark had shown up, and with it came the idea of something else. Something more. Something different.

Hunter is different.

So very different.

He turns to look at you, his eyes studying your face. “What is it you want?”

You smile, leaning back in the seat. “I want to live on a farm on a small planet with kind people that care about each other. I want to care for animals and to play in the dirt. I want a house that’s just the right size. I want to be happy and safe away from politics and war and my family.” You stare into his eyes, deep into the rich depths of them. “I want to be happy with my soulmate.”

***

You lay in bed, staring out the open window. The cool morning air is blowing in, rustling the curtains. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the sky in yellows and oranges. It’s quiet, the only noise the occasional bird song as the world begins to wake up. It’ll be warm today, the perfect time for you to finish planting your garden for the season.

An arm wraps around your waist, warm lips pressing kisses to your exposed neck. You smile, leaning back against the broad chest.

“Morning.” You murmur, biting your lip as his stubble tickles the sensitive skin.

He murmurs his greeting against your neck, his hand trailing up your bare side.

“We have to get Omega up for school soon.” You say, his lips working on sucking a mark onto the skin under your ear. “And we should take that milk into town.” His hand slides higher, cupping one of your breasts. “And we need to get the guest room ready for when Crosshair arrives.”

Hunter hums in your ear, pulling you tighter against his chest. You can feel him, hard against your lower back. “Worry about that later. Right now, I need to make love to my wife.”

It’s been nearly two years since that fateful day your soulmate hunted you down during your escape from your father.

Not long after, you had found this place. It was almost exactly what you had imagined, what you had told Hunter you wanted. It had felt too good to be true, at least until you began to settle in. It took some adjusting for the others as well, but they eventually found their places.

Echo decided to leave with Rex, feeling it was the right choice. You know it hurt the others to let him go, but you felt if he was happier fighting with the rebellion, then he should. You still see them occasionally when they drop by for a quick rest.

During one of those rests, they had brought a new figure into the house. They had stumbled across Crosshair being held at a facility and had rescued him. That had been a big adjustment, as he dealt with a lot of trauma from his time being controlled by the Empire.

Eventually he healed, and he grew bored. Echo and Rex offered him a place with them, helping them, but he decided on a different route.

He became a bounty hunter.

He still stopped by every so often, spending a few days on the farm before he’d leave, heading out to catch more quarries and get more credits.

Wrecker and Tech settled into farm life nicely. You had worried Tech might work himself to a coma as he spent endless hours learning everything he could about the planet, its flora and fauna, its weather patterns and seasons, the native cultures. He’d set up the house to best utilize the weather and natural phenomena, picked the best crops to grow and which animals would be the easiest to keep. Wrecker was more than thrilled to help with the actual farm work, tending to the animals and the more heavy-lifting aspects that came with it.

Omega settled in best of all, making friends in the nearby town and starting school. Hunter’s happy in this domestic life. You can tell just looking at him. He had shared similar dreams with you, settling down on a remote planet so that Omega can just be a kid while she still can. A place that’s safe, far from the reach of the Empire.

It’s been quiet since you landed here. You haven’t seen or heard anything from the Empire or even a bounty hunter. You had all been a bit on edge at first, waiting for the inevitable arrival.

It never came.

You’ve been safe, you’ve all been safe, for the first time ever.

Marrying Hunter had been an easy decision. There was no legal benefit in it, since he was a clone and you had left your family and its name and its standing behind you. You had done it mostly because you wanted to. Adopting Omega had been the natural next step, of course. It hadn’t been a legal adoption, again for obvious reasons, but it still felt good to put a name to it all.

You’ve built a new family, one you actually want.

One you actually love.

Hunter turns your body just slightly, his hand trailing up to your jaw. He cups it gently, looking down at your face.

“What?” You ask, your cheeks flushing just a bit. Two years and you still feel a bit sheepish under his gaze.

“You’re just so beautiful.” He says, leaning down to kiss you.

“You say that all the time.” You murmur against his lips.

“Because it’s true.” He murmurs back, deepening the kiss.

You press your body back against him, touching as much of him as you can. He’s softened a bit in two years, you’ve noticed. With the constant strain of fighting and continuous missions behind them, they’ve all softened a bit. Farm work is hard, but not nearly as demanding as what they had spent their entire lives doing. He’s still just as strong, but the hard ridges of muscle are gone, leaving soft edges in their wake.

That, and finally getting some real food in them has helped.

You like him no matter what, but you prefer his soft body. It means he’s well rested and well fed. Something he deserves after everything.

His lips trail down your neck and shoulders, his deft fingers sliding from your jaw down your body, pausing just to pluck at one of your nipples playfully. You gasp quietly, reaching back to tangle a hand in his hair.

You’ve had plenty of time to learn each other’s bodies over the years. Your first time together had been rushed and desperate in the fresher on the Marauder. It had been a result of the yearning, the need deep within your souls, your very beings, to be linked together. To be as close as you possibly can to each other. It had been awkward fumbling in a too-small space.

Once you’d found your home, you both finally had space and privacy to take your time. Testing, trying, playing. A few times you’d allowed his knives in bed, and once you’d reenacted your first meeting, except that time ended with you being fucked handcuffed against a tree on the edge of your property.

Most of all, though, you enjoyed the quiet moments like this one. The gentle lovemaking on lazy mornings, the quick moments when you can slip away from your responsibilities. The nights when he gets that look in his eye during dinner and you know you’re going to end up tangled in the sheets, moaning his name.

Twelve years ago you never would have thought this could be real.

Two years ago you never thought this could be real.

Fate is hardly ever wrong.

You gasp quietly as his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your slick folds. He licks and nips at your skin, leaving a trail of marks no doubt. He has said more than once he loves your scent and the taste of your skin. It had taken some adjusting to his enhanced senses knowing he could hear and smell everything, and he has a habit of smelling and tasting everything.

His hand grips your thigh, draping it over his waist. His fingers slip through your folds again, gathering your slick on his fingers before he presses one into you. You’re already wet, anticipating a rather satisfying morning. He runs his thumb over your clit and you jolt a bit, still sensitive from the night before.

You moan quietly, tugging lightly on his hair. He groans in response, breath fanning across your ear. His scalp is sensitive. You’re able to reduce him to shivers by just raking your nails across it.

He slips a second finger into you, his pace lazy and slow as you writhe in his arms. You can cum easily just from his fingers, something he’s rather proud of. To you, it’s a testament of just how perfect you are for each other.

You know he wants you to cum on his cock this morning, yet you can’t help but whine as he pulls his fingers from you. He shushes you, shifting you ever so slightly before the head of his cock slips along your folds. You moan, walls clamping in anticipation. You’ll never get tired of him, of his body, of how perfectly it fits against yours. How perfectly it fits inside yours.

He slides in, in one go, pausing for a moment once he’s seated fully inside you. His arms wrap around you, holding you as close to him as he can. You can still feel it like the first time you had sex, the bond between you. The link tying you together. The energy thrumming through you and into him, and then back like a circle.

It’s something unexplainable. Something precious and unique and it fills you with warmth every time you think about it.

“Hunter,” You whisper, walls clamping around him.

He shushes you, lacing your fingers together. “I’ve got you.”

He begins to move, slow and steady. Your eyes drift closed, savoring the feel of him, the drag of his hips, the stretch of his cock. The softness of him around you. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing can hurt you, nothing can touch you. Nothing can ruin this moment.

You’re not going to last long, his fingers slipping between your thighs to circle your clit once more. Your legs shake, walls gripping him like your body is trying to hold onto this moment forever.

You cum quickly with a quiet cry of his name, his own thrusts getting sloppy as he moans quietly in your ear. He stills as he reaches his own release, his groans vibrating through your back.

You lay there for a moment, clinging to each other, basking in the early morning glow. Neither of you have the will to move, wanting to stay like this forever.

Alas, that’s not possible as a loud crash is heard from downstairs followed by Omegas giggles and Wrecker’s rather loud apologies.

“The kids are awake.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Yes, it seems they are.” You say, a smile tugging at your lips.

“We should get up before they destroy the kitchen again.”

“Agreed.” You say, reluctantly pulling away from him.

You both dress, preparing to start another busy day. Hunter pauses by the door, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“I love you.” He says, practically beaming down at you.

You smile, tracing your fingers over his cheek. “I love you too.”

And you mean it.

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @kaminocasey

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #soulmate au #clones #tbb hunter x reader #bad batch hunter x reader

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gffa · 4 months

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In the ROTS director's commentary, George Lucas said that the scene with Padmé and Anakin on the balcony was to shot to show their "hopes and dreams for their future", as well as them settling into a normal life. Which struck me, because it seems like he was implying that Anakin and Padmé were both going to leave their jobs as Senator and Jedi. But tbh I thought that Anakin wanted to be both with Padmé and be a Jedi.

For me, I always interpret Anakin as someone who is conflicted about what he wants, that that's the whole undercurrent of, "I want more. And I know I shouldn't." It's about the power he wants, he wants the power to be able to stop death (as Lucas says he wants in AOTC commentary), he wants the power to hold onto those he cares about, but also I think he wants everything, even if it doesn't mesh together. He wants to be a Jedi Master, but he also wants a normal life, he wants to be important on the galactic stage, but he also wants to live a quiet life with a family--he yearns for these things that I think he's idealized in his head, that he thinks leaving the Jedi and living with Padme on Naboo to raise their kids will create this perfect satisfaction in him, when it really won't. He think that getting the title of Jedi Master will create a satisfaction in him that he's constantly craving, but it won't. Anakin, I think, is someone who wants everything, even when those things are literally not possible to go together, he wants a normal life and an exceptional life--"Ever since I've known you, you've been searching for a life greater than that of an ordinary Jedi. A life of significance, of conscience." is a line that hits Anakin hard and lures him in, even as it's a manipulation--because he doesn't really know what would make him genuinely happy. It's been awhile since I listened to the commentary of that part (my kingdom for a transcript that I could refer back to/not have to transcribe myself!) but generally that's how I see Anakin, as someone who wants things that literally cannot co-exist together, but that he wanted all of it.

#lumi.txt #star wars #anakin skywalker #anidala #meta

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thexxxthdoctor · 1 year

Text

Highest Honour

**WARNING - Over 18s Only**

Summary: You and the Doctor have saved a planet from destruction, earning the highest honour their culture offers. You soon learn that this more than just tea at the palace…

Short story with the 10th Doctor and female reader. Features consensual sex, vaginal sex, public sex, masturbation, oral sex, anal play, cum play, fantasy, light spanking, voyeurism.

Against all odds, in the face of deadly threats and pure terror, he had done it again. Another planet, another people saved by this man, this Doctor. Your Doctor.

He reached his hand out to you, helping you to your feet as the remnants of the invading fleet burned in the atmosphere above you. The electricity of his touch sent your mind at once back to the first time his fingers had gripped yours, pulling you away from a Dalek’s blast, saving your life and countless more before rewarding you for your help with a trip in the impossible blue box he adoringly called his TARDIS. As you stood, now, your adrenaline fuelled eyes meeting the sad, ancient depths of his own, you wanted him even more than you had that first time; his pin striped suit torn and battered, his tie askew and the sweat of his exertions cradling his thin face in perfect imperfection.

“You were brilliant today,” he told you, his voice warm and sincere, “thank you.”

Until meeting him, confidence was not something you had felt flow through you, but he had helped you see the strength inside you, and draw on it, and alongside him you had saved worlds together, facing down galactic warmongers and timeless threats. You and your Doctor. And yet, despite all you had faced, what still reduced you to putty was a compliment from this man you yearned for and who, you knew, would never even think to look twice at you, at least, not in that way.

“It was nothing,” you stuttered, your nerves overflowing, infuriatingly, your eyes pulling away from his for fear of them betraying all you felt and wanted to say to him. Instead, you stayed silent, cursing yourself for your cowardice and hoping to just get back quickly to the TARDIS, where you could retreat to the safety of your room and put the fingers now clasping his to better use, giving yourself the pleasure you wanted to feel from him. You’d lost count of the times you had watched, out of his sight, concealed by coral pillars as he stood lovingly by his Time Ship’s console, rubbing yourself to muted frenzy, jealously wishing that the touch with which he deftly operated the controls was working its magic on you instead. You felt foolish and at yourself for being envious of a machine, but deep down you too knew that the ship was far more than just a tool, and that the Doctor’s bond with it was greater than any he would ever allow himself to feel with you, or any of those that had come before you. Your feelings could only ever be fantasy, but if fantasy was all you could have, you resolved to enjoy yours to the full, as you approached the battered blue box, standing outside the entrance to the congressional chamber of Planet Carnalia. Soon, goodbye’s would be bidden and your Doctor would whisk you away to new adventures, but your mind, and fingers would spend the journey to wherever, in ecstatic reverie.

“Doctor, wait!”

The voice belonged to Torlosia, the Planet’s leader, and you both turned to face her, as she hurried to catch up with you. Dressed in flowing robes of red and gold, her turquoise skin glowing in the silver light of the twin moons above, her beauty seemed to reach inside you, demanding your attention, and you felt the tingling of a blush on your cheeks as she stood before you, smiling in gratitude.

“Doctor, we cannot thank you enough, both of you,” her glance to you deepening the redness in your face, “thanks to you, our people will live and thrive again.”

“Oh, it was nothing, Prime Minister,” the Doctor grinned, enthusiastically, “all in a day’s work! Now, we really must be getting off.”

“Where to this time?” asked Torlosia.

“Anywhere,” you answer, trying both to impress him and make sure he didn’t suggest it was time to get you home to your own time. “How about Saturn?”

“Nah, it’s boring,” the Doctor answered, “and anyway, Saturn’s not it’s real name.”

“Oh?” you quizzed, “what’s it’s real name, then?”

“Trevor.”

“Trevor?”

“Yeah…”

“The Planet Trevor?”

“Well, why’s ‘Saturn’ any better?” he said defensively before grinning at you, “I suppose we could go and ask which they prefer, if you like?”

You smiled your acquiescence and turned to bid farewell to Torlosia, only for her to step forward in earnest.

“Before you do that,” she began, “we cannot allow you to just slip away after saving so many of our lives. Not without showing you the depths of our gratitude, first.”

“Oh, really, there’s no need for all that,” protested the Doctor, “and I’m not sure my friend here would really be into all that…”

“Into what?” you ask, innocently.

Torlosia’s hand reached out to stroke your face, butterflies setting loose in your stomach at her touch. “Our very highest honour,” she answered simply. Turning back to the Doctor, she reached up to stroke his cheek, too, a glint of what looked like seduction in her eye, scattering the butterflies in you and replacing them with a pang of jealousy. “One we have afforded the Doctor and several of his other friends in times past, when their help has warranted it…”

“Other friends?” you interrupted, the familiar pang of jealousy you always felt at mention of your Doctor’s past companions, stabbing at you. “So, these ‘other friends’ have been up for this ‘highest honour’ have they, Doctor?”

You spoke the words accusingly, your eyes burrowing into his, and he shrugged, as flustered as you could ever recall seeing him.

“Well…,” he began, but the usual cacophony of words that followed didn’t come, and, for a moment, you almost thought he looked embarrassed, before Torlosia came to his rescue.

“Of course,” she answered, with a strange eagerness, “our gratitude to the Doctor always extends to the friends he relies on so much, and we insist on honouring them too. It would be our pleasure to extend those honours to you… our deep, and lasting pleasure.”

Her eyes were magnetic, her voice as sweet as honey, and in that second, you couldn’t imagine turning down any honour this beautiful woman desired to bestow on you. The Doctor though, looked nervous, as if for once in his centuries long life, words would not come to his rescue.

“It’s incredibly kind of you, Prime Minister,” he began, softly, “it’s just…”

“The Cabinet is assembled, Doctor,” she gently interrupted, “the choice, of course, is yours.”

With that, she turned and walked past the TARDIS, down the passageway, into the chamber. You looked up at the Time Lord, whose face had turned pale.

“We should go,” he whispered.

The expression he wore was one you hadn’t seen on him before, even when facing down Cyber armies and Sontaran squadrons, and you raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?” you asked, the desire to follow Torlosia through the tunnel almost overwhelming you. “What harm can their ‘highest honour’ do us? A cup of tea with the planet’s rulers, a handshake for the cameras and maybe a badge and a souvenir pen, if we’re lucky. We’ll be back in the TARDIS and off to Satur…, sorry, Trevor, before you can say ‘photo opportunity’.”

He looked down at you with his big, ancient eyes, the smile you loved so much beginning to break through his nervousness.

“You really want to go through there, don’t you?”

“What? Tea with the Prime Minister?” you replied, reciprocating his smile, “who wouldn’t?”

He reached out and closed his fingers around yours, and began to slowly lead you through the tunnel through which Torlosia had vanished.

“Tea,” he mused, as you strode. “In your culture, everyone wants to go out for tea all the time. If you saved the Earth, and we’ll probably end up doing that sooner or later, you’d likely get an invitation for tea with the King, or dinner at the White House because eating and drinking together is the ultimate expression of social nicety and civilisation and sharing that with the people in charge is a huge honour. But that’s not the case everywhere in the universe…”

“No?” You asked, intrigued. “So, what are some of the other universal niceties, then?”

“Well,” he began, his vocabularic fluidity returning, “on Decahedron Twenty-Three, they have an honour’s ceremony every year, where recipients all stand on a stage and blow their noses in unison.”

“What?”

“It’s a little odd at first but you soon get used to it,” the Doctor explained, “or at least you would do, if the people of Decahedron Twenty-Three didn’t have twenty-three noses each… but even that’s better than Frectagrangion Twelve…”

“Why, what happens on Frectagrangion Twelve?”

“Let’s just say that while people on Earth like to get around a table and eat together, their social interactions are planned more around the other end of proceedings.”

“Oh, God, you don’t mean...?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, without elaborating further. “But the point I’m trying to make is that this is going to be a bit different to tea and a handshake.”

“So, what’s it going to be?” you asked, your hand gripping tightly to his as you approached an ornate alcove at the end of the tunnel and stepped through, the butterflies in your stomach unleashed anew, as you took in the sight before you.

You and the Doctor emerged into the centre of a dark, cavernous auditorium, the polished metal floor you stood on, humming with a vibrant energy and slowly rotating clockwise. Before you could open your mouth to ask where you were, a voice came from the shadows around you.

“You have chosen to join us,” the voice was Torlosia’s. “We are most gratified.”

Far above you, lights at the top of the chamber began to bleed through the darkness, revealing to you and the Doctor the full truth of your surroundings. In a circle around you, draped across grand, bejewelled chairs, were a dozen of the most beautiful people who had ever lain eyes upon in your life, six men, six women, each of them resplendent in nakedness. Torlosia, her finery discarded, stood before the largest seat, the beauty of her perfect, disrobed body demanding your attention and causing you to squeeze tighter still on the Doctor’s hand, your confusion matched only by your arousal.

“Here,” the Doctor whispered into your ear, “the primary social interaction is sex and physical intimacy.”

You gulped hard, words failing you at what you had walked so blindly into.

“She…, she wants to sleep with us?” you asked, forcing your voice through your reluctant larynx.

“Not quite,” the Doctor softly intoned. “They want us to make love. You and me. They’re here to watch. It’s the highest honour on the planet for people being rewarded to make love to an audience of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, while they, er.. they pleasure themselves.”

A gasp, small, uncertain, escaped your mouth, the situation overwhelming you. Making love… fucking the Doctor, was all you had dreamed of for so long, but to an audience? Your mind raced to pluck a sentence, any sentence from the word salad running through it but none would come, until eventually it reached to mask your shock with humour.

“For God’s sake, don’t let Boris Johnson here about this…”

“It’s ok,” the Doctor whispered, your obvious discomfort troubling him, and he stepped forward to address the naked assembly.

“Prime Minister Torlosia,” he began, “I cannot begin to express the gratitude we feel for you offering this honour, but my friend here is of a different culture…”

Once more, your friend was standing up for you, protecting you, and you wanted him all the more for it. These people wanted to honour you and likewise, you yearned to honour him with your all, and to have him reciprocate. This was no alien threat to be protected from, this was your chance for all you had desired. You stepped forward, in front of the man you adored.

“Prime Minister!” you called out. “Though I am from another culture, I was raised to respect and cherish those of others, and travelling with this man has made me appreciate that even more.”

“Are you sure?” the Doctor quizzed, “you don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to,” you answered him, turning back to the disrobed dignitaries. “I accept this honour and will play my part.”

Torlosia smiled at you with warmth and sincerity, lowering herself onto her grand chair, her hand reaching at once between her open legs, and her fingers beginning to play with her perfectly trimmed pubes.

“Then, let the honours commence,” she said. “Please disrobe and begin.”

Around you, the dozen beautiful figures began settling into position, their eyes on you and the Doctor, and their hands beginning to stroke and caress themselves in eager anticipation of what was to come. You turned back to face the Doctor, who reflected your own nervousness in his face.

“Are you really sure?” he asked again. In response, you gripped the seam of the top you wore, and pulled it over your head, dropping it to the floor as his eyes fell to the bra, cradling your breasts.

“Does that answer your question?” you grinned.

Unleashed from his self-restraint with your words, he returned your grin and began at once to pull at his clothes; the long, brown overcoat crumpling to the polished floor, followed quickly by shoes, suit jacket, trousers, tie and shirt. Slower than him, you kept your eyes on the growing bulge in his shorts as you peeled off your leggings and unhooked your bra to the stifled moans of your audience. Finally, after seconds which felt like millennia, he shed himself of the last piece of material clinging to him and stood before you, naked and yours.

Nervousness and desire were waging war within you, and you stood, hiding your breasts with your arms, and your legs closed, ashamed to go further but desperate to do so, watching your man, your Doctor, standing before you, his nakedness all you had imagined it to be. You could already feel the dampness in your knickers as his eyes feasted on you, his dick hardening in anticipation.

“Don’t be shy,” he softly said. “Show yourself to me.”

“There was an authority in his voice that belied his delicate inflections, and you knew you would obey whatever he asked you to do. Shyness still raging inside, you stood straight and dropped your arms to your sides, allowing him to take in your breasts, the stiffness in your nipples mirroring that in his rapidly thickening cock, as you waited for the command you knew would come next.

And it did.

His hand reached down, his fingers closing around his erection, slowly, gently beginning to stroke it, just as you had fantasised that he might, those nights in the TARDIS, when you dreamed of him climaxing to the thought of you, just as you were doing to him. His eyes moved to your waist, and your blush grew deeper, nervous but yearning for his orders.

“Pull them down.”

His voice was a whisper, almost as delicate in tone as it was hypnotic, and at once, you felt your hands slide up to your hips, your thumbs slipping into the waistband of your underwear as you prepared to obey. Around you, the flurry of stroking, rubbing and fingering from your audience increased and you felt your shyness begin to crumble against a sudden, unexpected, spark of confidence. These people were watching you, enjoying you, and you knew from the look in his eyes that the man who you had ached for, for so long, wanted you. This man. This Doctor. Your Doctor.

You cherished the moment, bending over as you shed yourself of the last of your modesty, relishing the gasps of pleasure from the assembled spectators as you stood straight, naked and ready for the Time Lord. His hand began to move quicker as his eyes drank you in, and you felt your own begin to twitch in response to the throbbing you felt in your freshly exposed crotch.

“Play with it,” he ordered. “Like you do in the TARDIS, when you think I don’t notice. Play with it for me.”

You felt your embarrassment return and threaten to engulf you, the mortification at the knowledge he had seen you, perhaps every time, almost overwhelming. But, the spark of confidence not only remained, it grew, and without any resistance, you moved your fingers to your wet lips, teasing yourself, and him, until your clit compelled you to oblige its call. The movement at the edge of your vision spurred you on as your audience settled deeper into the show, responding to their breaths and squeals by moving your other hand to caress and gently squeeze your breasts. But your focus remained on him, and the joy he was finding in you.

He stepped forward towards you and you kept your fingers moving as he moved closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. Raising his hands to your face, he began to trace your features with the tips of his fingers, the yearning in your pussy deepening with each stroke of his finger. Stepping into an embrace, you felt his hand slide under yours and you let out a grateful moan as his fingers, finally, replaced yours in teasing and massaging your clitoris. You reciprocated, replacing the hand stroking his hard dick with your own, as though the thought of anyone else, even himself, touching it was enough to drive you into a jealous rage. He moaned his appreciation into your ear as you stroked it, working the shaft with your fingers and rubbing your thumb and forefinger over the head, relishing the sensation of his pre-cum, as it leaked onto them.

Repaying the favour, he increased the speed of his own fingers, slipping first one, then another between your lips and deeper, deeper inside you, the sensation building until your spasmed in pleasure, drenching his expert fingers as your body contorted against his and your moaning crescendoed, loudly around the chamber. Your other arm clasping tightly around his shoulders, he leant down, sucking and nibbling on your breasts as his fingers teased out every vestige of joy from your orgasm.

“That’s only the beginning,” he said, as he raised his head back up, and pressed his lips against yours. “Lie down.”

The metal, rotating floor was cold, but you didn’t care. Rolling his overcoat into a makeshift pillow, you allowed him to lay you down, as his mouth went greedily to work on your body. Around you, the moans of the watchers, each one of them pleasuring themselves, feverishly to you, sounded, and you leaned your head back to take them in, gripping your breasts as the Doctor worked his magic on you. Those hands, fresh from exploring your intimate sex, had reached around to lift your hips while his tongue, with the experience of centuries, worked your swollen clit into still another climax. You lifted your head, seeing the aching strain in his dick and knowing he wanted it inside you as much as you did. But it was his turn, and you wanted him somewhere else first.

“Stay on your knees,” you told him, as you wriggled from under him, and though his eyebrow raised, as if he wasn��t used to following orders, he did as you bade, shifting himself to an upright position, his knees on the floor. On all fours, you crept towards him, your arse pressed high into the air, relishing the expectation on his face. His dick was inches from your lips, its sweet scent in your nostrils and you could tell how desperately he wanted you to touch it, so for a mischievous second you let him wait. Running your tongue up and down the shaft, you savoured his groan as you finally opened your mouth wide and took him in. More gasps and moans came from the watching nobility, and from the wide grin on his face as you looked up to him, your mouth full of his cock, you knew he enjoyed the audience as much as you.

He leaned forward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, and as you relished his taste, you felt his hands spank down on the cheeks of your arse, gripping them in a tight squeeze before releasing them and spanking down again. Your squeal of surprised agreement was muffled in your full mouth, but you wiggled your approval, wordlessly begging for more, and he readily obliged, spreading your cheeks open to the audible appreciation of your admirers and spanking each cheek again.

“Bad girl,” he muttered, as you squealed your appreciation. “Masturbating in my TARDIS?”

You were guilty as charged and you gleefully moaned your admission.

“People who play with themselves in my TARDIS need to be taught a lesson, don’t they?” he said as your left cheek was spanked again. And again, you murmured your agreement, as another spank landed on your right cheek.

“Stay like that,” he ordered, as he pulled himself from your mouth. “Stick it up in the air, higher.”

You pressed your face closer to the ground, pushing your backside up for him, and the audience to admire, as he moved to kneel behind you, easing his still rock hard dick into your soaking wet pussy. Gently at first, then faster and harder, the Time Lord thrust himself into you, his hands reaching up to your breasts as he fucked you. The crowd moaned their approval and you knew they were nearing the edge of an intensity from which nobody could pull back, but this fuck was yours and the Doctor’s to enjoy.

He was thrusting faster, each stroke sending reams of pleasure through your whole body as you felt his hands move again; your tight arsehole clamping around the thumb he pushed into it, while the fingers of his other hand went to work once more on your clit, until you reached the apex of your pleasure once more, screaming out your gratification for the universe to hear.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, desperately, as though he needed your permission to finish. On any other day you would have been happy to feel him cum inside you and relish the sensation of his pleasure within you. But right here, right now, you wanted to taste it, to see it.

“Stand up,” you ordered, and he obeyed, sliding out of you and struggling to his feet, his hand grasping his cock for fear of losing a second of sensation. You knelt in front of him, pushing your sweat glistened breasts together.

“Right here,” you urged him, opening your mouth and inviting his stream onto your tongue.

You watched, your pussy wet and aching, as he pulled himself furiously to his climax, his eyes never leaving yours. With a cry of agonised bliss, the Doctor’s hips buckled and streams of cum flew from his dick, landing hot on your face and tongue, and you grinned in eager appreciation.

Around you both, the assembled thirteen cried out as one, an orgasmic chorus sounding out around the chamber in simultaneous honour of the display before them.

The Doctor, his breathing heavy and his legs shaking reached down to you, pulling you up to your feet before leaning forward and kissing you, his cum passing between your lips as you embraced tightly in post-coital contentment.

You didn’t know how much time passed, but you held tightly to your Doctor, not wanting the embrace to end, for fear it may not happen again. Finally, a voice called from the assembled spectators.

“Thank you both,” Torlosia said.

You turned to see her standing, unsteadily, her hand still gently playing with that perfect pussy, eking out the last throws of her pleasure.

“It was an honour,” the Doctor breathed, heavily.

“The highest,” you confirmed, happily.

“Again, you have our thanks,” Torlosia answered, with a smile. “Farewell on your journeys and go with our love.”

The Doctor gently broke your embrace and stooped down to pick up his discarded clothes, and you followed his lead before walking back down the alleyway towards the TARDIS. The intensity of your experience began to slowly subside and you felt your excitement start to give way to a curious disappointment. The Doctor, you knew, was a private, haunted man, and away from this arena and this culture, you knew you would not experience this side of him again. Could you ever go back, you wondered, to just being friends who travelled together? Your desires relegated once more to feverish but unfulfilled masturbatory fantasy?

Together, you reached the TARDIS and the still naked Doctor fished in the pockets of his crumpled clothes for the key, opening the door for you as you held your own clothes against you in sudden modesty.

“I suppose we’re off to Planet Trevor, then?” you asked, barely hiding the disappointment in your voice.

“Sounds like a plan,” the Doctor nodded, “unless…, nah.”

“Unless what?”

“Well, you know we were talking about other planets and other cultures?” he said, a mischievous glint returning to his face.

“Yeah?”

“Well, three or four hundred years ago, the people of Centuri Seven abandoned the concept of clothes. We could pop over there first, if you like? Given we’re already, erm, undressed for the occasion…”

“You grinned and nodded, stepping into the magic blue box with this man. This Doctor. Your Doctor.

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who smut #tardis #the doctor #10th doctor #david tennant #tenth doctor #doctor who fans #sexy content #watch me masturbate #doctor who imagine

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vedicastrology-thestarsguideyou · 3 months

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🌞 - Surya , The Atman , The Animus, Father Archetype

The sun represents the true essence of the higher self of the personality.

That which we truly are when we let go of the bindings that pull us down.

It's the king , the royal , charishma , spotlight , father figure , expression of creativity , self esteem , pride , selfishness too.

Sun in Aries ♈ - Mesh Rashi.

The Sun finds it truest expression in the sign of it's friend Mars. Here he is free to express himself in a true manner , to shine bright, to take initiative, to create , to create something worthwhile, self confidence runs high , goal driven.

Sun in Taurus ♉ - Vrishabh Rashi.

Here the Sun indulges in the pleasure of accumulating resources , wealth & sensual pleasures. Pleasant , companionable & comfort oriented. Focus on beauty & wealth . Strong financial intelligence . Artistic taste & collection of valuable resources.

Sun in Gemini ♊ : Mithun Rashi.

Here the Sun deals with life with intelligence and humor. A touch of adolescence and a penchant for communication. Dexterous , eloquent speaking , crafty skills and a light hearted approach to numbers , life and living :).

Sun in cancer ♋ : Kark Rashi

Sun in it's friendly Rashi seeks rooted environments of caretaking, nourishment , emotional attunement , sheltering and schooling. It shines bright and feels patriotic towards its motherland. Sensitivity is enhanced . Supports & defends home. Home is where one's heart is. 😌🌞🪄

Sun in Leo ♌ : Simha rashi

Sun here likes to shine bright . Loves to express itself in various forms . Dramatic. Romantic, needs to be centre of attention, self confident , regal , loyal , a bit self centred, generous and large hearted , full of vitality & life :).

Sun in Virgo ♍ : Kanya Rashi

Sun here inclines itself toward service , healing and intelligently dealing with life. Analytical and intellectual. Healing energies. Kind and helpful . Hardworking & sincere .

Sun in Libra ♎ : Tula Rashi.

Sun here immerses itself fully into the relationships with the other , thus forgets itself. Likes harmony, beauty & sense of fairness. Love to serve their partners . Can make great lawyers & attorneys . Should maintain a healthy balance between self & others :)

Sun in Scorpio ♏ : Vrischik Rashi

Here the Sun imbibes the power of Mars in astral waters and subconscious and thus undergoes death , transformation and an alchemy of its innermost nature and leads a life of power & strength backed up by the depth of its intense emotionality.

Sun in Sagittarius ♐ : Dhanu Rashi

Sun here follows the adventure of his lifetime. Righteous , carefree , kind and optimism guide his heart . Helpfulness and generous nature . A happy go lucky. Honest , blunt , creative and full of vitality . A traveller of life itself. Expansive spirit.

Sun in Capricorn ♑ : Makar Rashi

The Sun here takes up life seriously and imbibes a sense of maturity. Responsibility and a sense of oldness . Father in his son's sign. Here he yearns to contribute to the society. Status conscious, financially conscious & hard working.

Sun in Aquarius ♒ : Kumbh Rashi

Here the Sun loves to connect with all the networks of society. Lucky and gains through connection. Friendly and fair. Values friendship and loves the exoticness . Detached yet connected. Intellectual and broad minded . Galactic and spacious . Full of ideas . Evolves.

Sun in pisces ♓ : Meen rashi

Here the Sun loves to swim in the oceanic waters of the subconscious, the astral world. Kind , patient , artistic, poetic, compassionate . Highly intuitive . A healer , shaman. In this world but not of this world. Is slowly learning the art of letting go.

Looking for the self in addiction does not help. :)

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tremendum · 7 months

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twin suns ; your shadow at morning

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

part three of the Twin Suns series ; prologue ; part i ; part ii

pairing: au (canon-divergent), western-inspired Din Djarin x fem!bounty!reader (afab, w use of woman, girl, etc) rating: eventually explicit in future chapters. slow slow burn. (18+. mdni.)

warnings: canon-typical violence, themes of hunting/being hunted, fear, a brief mention of vomit twice, pretty bad injuries and descriptions of reader's blood/injury,, temporary blindness still, mean!Mando, lots of sand description like anakin would h8 this, slightly possessive themes

synopsis: “the messenger nods, his expression revealing nothing. 'good. prepare yourselves. the journey is long, and the desert does not forgive hesitation.'”

word count: 4.7k.

notes: hii :) silly how i haven't posted in months??? sorry ive been away, just having a hard time rn. but here's part 3, it's still going a bit slow because i love a good slow burn but we're getting to some yummy parts in the next few chapters ;) lmk if ive missed ur tag, i lost my taglist.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

for what may be the first time in years, you don't wake up with a start.

this visit to consciousness is pulled rather slowly from a lone yearning sensation. you're not sure what it is - or if it's even real - a feeling deep in the corner of your brain that urges something along the lines of wake up! wake up!

and when your brain finally starts to stir, it's with a heaving breath of pain from deep within you, as if someone had taken the spongy material and hurled it against the dartboard of a cantina.

your face twitches against something gritty. oh- there's kriffing sand in your teeth. on your tongue.

it feels heavy, dusty. wake up!

your eyes open slowly as you let out an exhale into the rusty ground.

they slide open like dry, grating sandpaper against your tired irises, but to your shock, you're met with nothing - nothing changes, besides a shift from black to mauve.

in a moment of sheer panic, your head reels upwards from the sand and, despite the screams of protest within your throat, you twist your head around.

wait- wait! you can make out a bit of light. there's... two faint dots in your vision, faint and searing at the same time.

twin suns.

you resist the urge to scream or gasp in fear - yet the burning sensation from holding back both still evokes your body to twist slightly from your stomach to your side. it is mere seconds before you are expelling all the remnants of fear and confusion and rage from your stomach to splay across the small mountain ranges of eroded sand carved by wind.

the ringing in your ears ebb when you can finally make out a squeal, a cry - something between the two - less out of pain or horror, but of concern.

green comes into your mind, for whatever reason - then shortly and likely consequently, the faint realization that you cannot fucking see a thing.

oh. oh.

the suns. the miserably lonely nights. stale wind whistling through empty valley corridors. a lonely girl in an abandoned apartment ripped open by the forces of galactic war years ago; blaster at your hip, blades on your thigh.

unfriendly company. a vision of your own face plastered on a holo just to the side of a Neerok table.

that strange metal hunter and his little green accomplice. a tickle of excitement in the shadow that followed you for weeks. a cat and mouse game.

happy hunting, Mando.

a lasso. the headscarf wrapped around a small baby. the carbonite chamber.

maker's mother - Maracavanya.

they'd shot you back down into Tattoine's dunes.

oh Gods, you're wrecked, with the hunter, back on Tattoine.

perhaps your eyes roll back into your head as you slump back - no way to know for sure - a gasp of pain from the left side of your skull. you weakly pull a hand to your brow and it's vaguely warm, wet, sticky when it pulls back. oh.

you wince, your nostrils flaring as you pick up the thick smell of smoke and sharp jetfuel burning.

kriff, those suns are searing behind your unseeing eyes, your legs are still pins and needles, you're- oh, your face is throbbing dully with the numbing agent. maybe carbonite wasn't the worst thing to happen to you in the last thirty minutes.

your hands grasp at the ground, handfuls of sand which slip right through your dry fingers as you keel over again, expelling nothing but bile and then after a few moments nothing but choked, burning air that you fight to suck in and out of your lungs. your head doesn't feel right; be it the blindness or the crash?

the bounty hunter calls your name from far away, as your ears buzz - but the grip you have with your right hand sends a shooting agony through your entire being and a yell of pain ripples through the air.

crying, after that - the baby. you startled him with your roar of pain. fear strikes you - is he okay? he wasn't strapped in when you crashed, was he? you can't remember.

leathered hands wrap around your chest and for a split, childish moment, your arms twitch; almost as if you were about to grab him back. but it's not an embrace, you chastise your foolish, betraying mind.

the Mandalorian wraps something around you, a rope. around your waist again.

it clicks in your head, fuzzy from the crash. how'd you even get out of the ship?

"wh-" you croak, unable to form words as you grapple with your mind for something to ground yourself. "are we back on Tattoine?" you ask, voice much too meek; the blistering heat sure feels like Tattooine. silence, besides a grunt of his own pain from the man who tugs you up onto staggering legs, leading you up through what you imagine is the hull and past the thick burn of smoke that cause you to cough so deep your body starts to sway.

his hands are sturdy and unforgiving on your upper arm until you're guided to what feels like a cot, a severe absence of light causing your mind to panic, heart beating wildly at the sudden loss of sensory cues. it's all black, now.

"is..." you sound so unlike yourself it almost knocks you off your feet. "is the child okay?" you ask, throat burning. it's silent for a moment too long and fear strikes down on your heart, assuming the worst.

"yes." the Mandalorian finally confirms. you let out a shaky sight of relief, nodding as your body is then pushed until you sit on weak legs. "if you're going to pass out, try to stay upright." the voice says, unforgiving.

his footsteps are heavy as he stalks away, your lips screaming silently for water.

a hesitation in the footsteps has your heart thundering in fear, your arms swallowing yourself until you're curled in on your chest. you're too weak to try and protect yourself from him.

the gaze you've come to know is burning though your unseeing eyes; you can almost see that glint of the helmet in your mind. he says nothing, just stares.

you wish he would just leave.

the quiet is so absorbent, it hurts your numb mind. the baritone breaks the silence, again.

"-and if you're going to throw up again, do it on the durasteel."

you're not sure how long you sleep for.

when you wake, you're on your side, slumped against the side of the cot; your neck creaks as you slowly stir upwards, eyes cracking open slowly.

a peek of light creaks in through the hull as you groan, eyebrows furrowing as far as they can. you're puffy, you can feel it. your brow and temple are swelled and likely bruised. looking down out of habit, you can tell that the aching, searing pain in your hand has only worsened - the numbness of the carbonite chamber wearing down too soon.

you're fucked when it's completely gone, realizing now that not only do you likely have a broken hand and several broken ribs, but that your brow bone is surely chipped, your brain bruised from knocking too much against your skull, and you're right and proper screwed.

there's a gash on your thigh that has since stopped bleeding, but you're sure if it's not dressed and attended within forty eight hours, you'll succumb to the sand mites that infest the plains outside. you're too busy assessing your injuries to realize it; when you do, you let out a sharp screech, shaking your head as your hands fly up towards your cheeks.

you can see again - sort of.

light sources peek out at you through a blanket of thick fog.

it's as if you'd taken semi-translucent paint and slathered it over your retinas - especially in the low light, it's hard to catch anything besides a faint glint and the outline of metallic shapes in the hull. still, it fills you with some sort of giddy elation; perhaps spurred on by your head trauma and the sheer shock of the events, you huff a short laugh to yourself. your fingers on your good hand wiggle slightly, you can see the motion as you wave up at yourself.

maybe this isn't a permanent blindness, then.

but a twitch from your bad hand has you gasping in sheer pain, biting down on your lip to keep quiet in fear of stirring the Mandalorian from whatever corner of the ship he lurks in. your stomach flips at the fleeting thought that he could have been there, watching you this whole time in the darker shadows of your sight - and you'd have had no clue.

your moment of joy is over when reality washes over your entire body: you're stuck with the Mandalorian with a severe disadvantage: sure, his ship is wrecked, but you have impairing injuries and little to no sight.

he's likely injured, too, but not enough so that he's unable to use a hand - or his brain- like you.

you deftly get to work, your movements like a well oiled machine after months of repairing yourself on your own. you can't shake the creeping fear that the Mandalorian is watching you; you swear a movement from the corner of your limited sight moves and you nearly jump out of your skin.

if he's there, he doesn't move a muscle as you slowly start to tear at the material of your tunic, ripping the bottom hem until there's one long strip. biting down on your lip, you apply pressure to the points in your hand that you're sure are broken, knowing the better wrapped it is, the better it will be for you.

the hardest thing you can find on the floor near you to bite down on is shoved between your teeth as you swiftly start to push your fingers back, aligning knuckles that'd been sprouting from your hand like gnarled tree branches.

you groan out anyways - muffled, yes, but only by the long, cool, durable object between your teeth as your head falls against the wall in pain.

fuck.

as you assess your wounds in the dark, trying futilely to wipe the blind fog from your eyes, the thoughts swirl around your mind.

doubt creeps into your head from the cracks in your resolve; because you're not a fool. there's no true way that you could warble your bottom lip a bit, blindly insisting that you were innocent, and the Mandalorian would just fold when faced with an entire ship of pirates who were willing to pay him his entire weight in credits for you. there's no way you were that good.

so what was it that'd snapped in that emotionless helmet of his that prompted the escape attempt?

the money? the Maracavanya clan is not nearly as trustworthy as whoever casted a puck to the bounty guild for you; he has to feed himself and the child, maybe he really is strapped for cash. sure, the beskar goes for a very pretty pence or two nearly anywhere in the galaxy, but you're also fairly sure there's something very sacrilegious about a Mandalorian selling his own armor.

so you're the means to an end - not the first time, and probably not the last, given that you somehow escape the Mandalorian's grasp alive.

there's no way, as a rational person, that you can realistically imagine beating the Mandalorian in combat in your current state. he'd throw you down to the sand within seconds; you can try to outsmart him, considering you've been evading him for weeks up until this point, but it will be much more difficult to do so in the middle of the desert plains with such injuries.

you're fucked.

and you realize, as you dap away at the wound on your head with a strip of cloth, that if it's the child's mouth you're indirectly feeding by being turned in, then that's an externality you aren't terribly furious about... but the Hunter, on the other hand...

you're feeling less dizzy as you finish doctoring yourself in the dark of your blindness, but the numbing agent is surely wearing off; aches and stings and gasps tear from you as the minutes wear on. you're too weak to stand. water and food would go miles for you right now- maker, if you could just-

you shift accidentally and a searing pain rips a tearing yelp from your raw throat. the object you'd shoved between your teeth falls with a cland onto the durasteel floors.

your hand flies to stabilize yourself on the object you'd let fall - a vibroblade, the hilt wrapped in a sharply oiled leather and blade serrated; oh.

at least you'd had the wherewithal to stick the hilt side of the blade between your teeth. thanking your lucky stars, you quickly move to sheath the blade in the waistband of your pants. you'd felt less than whole ever since the Mandalorian had taken your blades; you'd only ever carried a small blaster.

you wonder where he'd discarded them absently - clearly, he was not one to waste a weapon, had he taken yours and added them to his arsenal? a trophy, for one more notch on his ammo-belt? bitterness floods your mouth as your lips shape into a scowl - in a world full of blaster pistols and rifles, you'd preferred a more agile melee skillset when training. it wasn't well equipped for the rolling and harsh isolation of the sandy wilderness; arid and desolate just as the people you've met here. it was much more suited for where you grew up, and maybe you were too.

nonetheless, this vibroblade feels like coming home and your heart cools as you feel the cold of the blade against your spine.

"don't."

you jump out of your skin in shock, hand instinctively flipping the blade until it's concealed up your forearm, the hilt upside down against your palm.

you resist a growl of irritation at his slinkiness; when did the Mandalorian show up? you crane your neck upwards towards where you'd heard the word, your jaw tightening. "do you have any other words in your vocabulary?" you snap. you feel as though you've said this before.

"give me the blade."

he's not asking- he seems like the kind of man who's never had to ask for anything in his life. you roll your eyes out of habit, shaking your head.

what are you going to do, anyways? swipe blindly towards a man covered head to toe in impenetrable metal? you have a decent grasp on up and down purely based on gravitational pull. in a moment, you consider spitting, like you were taught to do in the rumbling avalanches of the cold season back home to orient yourself, just to spite him - you bite your tongue in fear of losing a hand lest your spit graces the Mandalorian's sacred armor.

a moment of panic sends you into a desperate lurch to plead with the Mandalorian. "I don't have a weapon," you insist, "if I could just-"

roughly, his gloved hand pries the blade from your grasp with a harsh tug. "what makes you assume you deserve a weapon? you're my prisoner. just because I didn't freeze you doesn't mean any different."

his words are final; besides, you're reeling through pain on most surfaces of your body and many spots internally; there was no chance for you to put up a fight, so you drop it.

for a moment you expect him to whirl around and disappear from your faint field of vision - but there's a faint motion; a shine above your eyeline and then too soon, a click.

kriff.

you don't have to see to know the click of a safety when you hear one.

"I'll only ask one more time." the Mandalorian's slow, cold voice crackles through the static of his modulator. "who else is after you?"

you can tell this is not turning out to be the bounty capture he'd anticipated - you feel half triumphant but half regretful.

upon first instinct, your mouth creaks open to spew some half-planned lie, but knowing better, you just grit out, "why were you after me?"

he's a statue of a shadow in your faint sight - body large enough to cover most of the cot's lights as he towers over you, staring down the barrel. "what else aren't you telling me?" he asks, voice crackling with danger and frustration.

defiantly - as if you aren't incapacitated in his broken ship, barely able to breathe without yelping in pain - you sneer back at him. "why do you care?"

"I'm trying to make sure I don't get shot out of orbit again." he snaps, hips moving as he shifts, blaster still pointed at your forehead. "there are far worse people in the galaxy that could have gotten to you."

who is he to tell you that? he tried to freeze you in carbonite. you can't help as your brows furrow in skepticism, "well, forgive me if I don't take your word for it." your voice drips in sarcasm.

he shifts, starting to rustle with some blaster pistol on the side table, finally moving his weapon away from you. "you should've told me about the others. I could've prepared better."

a bitter, ironic laugh tumbles from your raw throat, "oh, and what? you would've graciously shared your bounty with me?" you mock, rolling your eyes. his grandiose attitude is grating deep into your nerves.

the Mandalorian's voice is firm. "I protect my assets. it ensures you're alive to give me what I need."

your veins light as you hiss, furious: "I'm not some object you can just take!" you snap. you're aching, furious.

you're sick of people in this galaxy stepping their boots over your spine and trading you around.

"if you're so sure you're not, why do I have this?" he retorts, sarcasm slipping through his mask.

he tosses a small object just to your side onto the cot and the mere shape of it makes your mouth sour. you don't need to see it to know what it is.

your puck.

you exhale harshly, feeling angry, cold, in pain, and miserably alone in the universe. once again proved wrong in your short string of optimism of the good in people, you deflate.

"I'm not someone you can deceive. I took this job because it's my Creed, not for personal gain." he adds after your silence.

the tension in the room is palpable - you feel as though you could pass out in any moment, and Maracavanya, the Mandalorian, your old partner... a cell, guards with vibro-clubs, galactic court - all of it beats down on you, striking freezing fear into your heart.

it is perhaps through this fleeting weakness that you allow yourself a small whisper to him, "you don't understand what's at stake for me."

"you're right." he says.

he walks away silently, but you can tell he's gone. the words he doesn't say linger still, cold and lonely and harsh in his wake. you close your eyes, knowing only rest could help you heal now - but the unspoken words of the cold man haunt you waking and asleep.

you're right, I don't understand - and I don't care.

he arrives just as quietly as he did the first time.

your sight is coming in slowly - it's been hours, likely, of you lying still in the rock-hard cot, staring at the nothingness, willing the sparse bacta spray and ointments you'd kept saved on your person to kick in and relieve you.

he says your name.

it startles you.

you don't dare respond, not nearly bothering to rise and welcome your captor into your (his, your mind reminds you) quarters. he comes in anyways, walking with a stiff, uncomfortable swoop.

"we have a follower." he states, leaving you to pull up your brows, sitting slowly. your shock must be evident on your face. a sleeve falls over your shoulder as you sniff, "we?" you mock.

he doesn't take the bait, as always; turning on his heels, the man stalks out of the cot, down towards where rusty, hot wind blows sand over the dilapidated entrance to his ship. he must've just returned.

the entrance to the ship had taken just as bad a beating as you; more than once in your miserable moments of recovery you'd wished quite bitterly that the Mandalorian had considered upgrading his ship with the same precious metal shell he wrapped his nearly-unscathed self in.

you have to scramble to follow him, squinting as if it will help your impaired vision. a dark wall of metal moves just out of your field of vision, and you chase it. "where have you been?" you ask then, not nearly as concerned by his first sentence as you are with his sudden arrival.

when you'd woken, you'd crept out of the small cot, feeling with your hands on the walls to keep you upright and trying to avoid your hips from encountering a spare corner. it was then, with feelings of both relief and anxiety, that you determined he wasn't anywhere on the ship, and neither was the Child.

"in town." he sounds impatient, urgent. "w-"

you're shocked. "-you left me alone?" you ask, incredulous as your brows raise. the shine of his beskar can just barely be made out through your blindness. you nearly laugh - at his stupidity, or of the irony that you had your chance to escape and slept through it.

"the Crest locks from the inside." he retorts. your brows furrow, "what?"

"when I tell it to, it locks it from the inside." it's clipped, his voiced laced with irritation and a hint of condescension. your blood boils, but he has no time for your mocking tone.

"listen." he utters, voice closer than you expect - instinctively, you jerk back, widening the space between Mando's helmet and your face. "I was in town buying parts. a man followed me back here - about a click away. saw him in the cantina a while ago, and again at the market the other day. he's been following me, so I led him here. you are to stay on the ship."

it's the most words you've ever heard from him - if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was doing this to protect you. bitter fear curls into you as your brows furrow under your scarf, twinging in a bit of pain from your healing injuries. he's not protecting you - he's protecting his assets. making sure he's the one to win the prize of your capture.

and he doesn't seem like the kind of person who keeps as many friends as he does enemies.

it's like clockwork - a slamming noise shuts off whatever retort was building on your lips.

Mando whirls around, whipping his blaster out as he stalks towards the entrance to the broken ship. as quiet as possible, you slide down the rungs behind him, blatantly ignoring his orders; just then, a voice calls out.

"Mandalorian?" a moment of hesitation in the hunter's shoulders. then, chillingly, you gasp as the voice calls out a second name.

yours.

from what your weak eyes can make out, the man standing outside the wreckage of the Razor Crest is a Rodian - his emerald skin contrasting sharply with the desert. you stare in shock from behind the Mandalorian's frame, hoping you're far enough away that the large, multifaceted eyes of the man can't detect you.

he wears earth-toned robes that blend with the desert surroundings, a testament to his familiarity with the unforgiving terrain; peculiarly, his attire is practical, with layers of fabric offering protection from the twin suns' scorching rays and the harsh winds that sweep across the dunes, but upon his waist, a belt secures a small satchel - and, more bizarrely - and an emblem for the city of Mos Espa.

his movements are deliberate and measured - posture unwavering despite the blaster pointed towards him. a few feet down the ramp from you, the Mandalorian stands vigilant, his beskar armor glistening under the twin suns and reflecting into the sensitive layers of your eyes.

"who are you?" he asks, voice low and chilling.

the desert winds howl, carrying whispers of the unforgiving sands across the barren dunes of Tatooine and your weak skin tingles against the particles. finally, the man speaks.

"I come on behalf of my master. he requires your presence at his palace."

palace? your bones chill; what palace in this miserable rock would have business with the Mandalorian? his helmeted gaze bores into the messenger, giving you a split moment to take a deep exhale.

"who is your master that he can't come find me himself?" Mando's voice is gravelly, edged with caution, though he lowers his gun with a hesitant recognition in his voice.

the messenger's eyes flicker, betraying a trace of unease. "not just you. he requests both of you."

your stomach flips. oh, Maker.

before you can stop yourself, you take a staggering few steps until you're next to the Mandalorian, who gives you a cold stare.

with your eyes narrowed against the faint sights in front of you, the gears of your mind whir. "and if we refuse to go?" you ask, voice scratchy. fear pounds in your chest like a wild beast needing escape.

the man folds his hands diplomatically. "the Daimyo has requested your presence at his palace, both of you. he does not extend such invitations lightly - he has his reasons, and you would do well to hear them from his own lips."

oh. oh, kriff. recognition floods through you - a combination of relief and utter fear.

your brows lift, "the Diamyo?"

an old friend, your mind whispers, sardonic and teasing.

a tense silence hangs in the air, broken only by the distant cries of native creatures and a cooing at the Mandalorian's side. a breath of hope is breathed into your chest at the realization that the Diamyo's palace could be just what you need to escape this metal shadow; a shift in the breeze sends your hair around your face and you're soon filled to the brim with anticipation - you need to do this. no matter the danger it entails, what tricks may lie within the halls of the palace...

it's your only hope.

out of pure accident, your eyes land on Mando in what is a fleeting glance, a silent conversation that neither of you intended. it's as if both of you know that this meeting could change the course of both of your journeys, somehow - a threatening veil soon placates your mind, knowing the Mandalorian has surely already considered your plans for escape.

with a sigh heavier than the beskar he shrouds himself with, Mando nods. irritation is laced through his voice. "fine. we will go to the palace."

the messenger nods, his expression revealing nothing but a slight air of relief that notches a bit of anxiety into you. "good. prepare yourselves. the journey is long, and the desert does not forgive hesitation."

and with that, the messenger turns and retreats into the unforgiving expanse along with the dying suns, leaving you to face the remnants of Mando's ship and the uncertain path that lay ahead.

the man is long lost to the fading horizon of the desert when slowly, the hunter pulls a pair of cuffs from his belt; your stomach drops as you hang your head in frustration.

"may I at least use the 'fresher, first?" you snark, sending the cold statue a false smile. you haven't bathed in days - your hair needs a cleanse desperately and you're sure there's more than enough blood, dirt, and grease caked into your skin.

his grunt is angry as he slams shut the ramp, sealing you into complete blindness in the lack of bright lights. despite his anger, the Mandalorian pulls your incapacitated self into the fresher and slams the door shut.

as you shower and relish the last moments of what little, bizarre freedom you had since being captured, you wonder if he's still right outside, waiting for you to step out.

he is.

it's with a pit of misery at the bottom of your stomach that you sit in the corner of the cargo bay with your hands bound together and watch him clean and prepare every single weapon he can fit on his person.

whatever reason the Mandalorian has to listen to the request of the Diamyo, he doesn't tell you. he doesn't do much except run his gloved fingers slowly over the vibroblade you'd tried to steal - the glint of your harsh teeth marks barely detectable to your impaired vision. he sheathes the blade on his hip, to your surprise. a daunting reminder of his power over you.

and as much as you try, you can't ignore the feeling that the fate of your soul is about to rest in the hands of Boba Fett and the mysteries that await you within the walls of his palace.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

taglist (message to join). @silkiers @leithatnight @totallynotastanacc @afandomidiot @bbyanarchist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @notsosecretspy @djarins-cyare @satireclub @famefoxx @sunnywithachanceofjavi

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian smut #the mandolorian x reader #mando smut #mando x reader #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction

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yourdarlingness · 2 months

Text

Misha (Honkai Star Rail)　names , pronouns , titles

✦ requested by @erveinangel　...　no kin / ID / me tags

　◞◟　NAMES　✦

dreamie . micah . mylo . milo . nikki . nick . rem . starlet(te) . starlotte . wish . whimsyne

　◞◟ 　PRONOUNS　✦

be / bell . bell / bellboy . b🛎️ / b🛎️ll . hx / hxm . h✦ / h✦m . de / dream . star / stars . sce / scape (from 'dreamscape') . ae / aer . hy / hym . shy / hyr . whie / whimsy . 🕰️ . ✦ . 🛎️

　◞◟ 　TITLES　✦

the (hotel) bellboy . the bellboy of the Reverie hotel . in prn* (galactic/whimsical) wonderland . prn* who yearns for adventure . prn* starry wishes . prn (galactic/cosmic) dreams . prn* desire for adventure . (the captain / prn) dreamscape . the captain of clocks . the (captain's / bellboy's) starry escapades

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enigmaticexplorer · 4 months

Text

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Part I - Chapter I

Masterlist | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.8K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

“The risk of love is loss and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.” - Hilary Stanton Zunin

16 Telona

Kazi would never again visit the lighthouse with her sister.

The place where they peeled citrus-stars, watched oceanic storms, danced in puddles, played and laughed, and smacked the other when they argued. It was their sanctuary. And, of course, the ragged lighthouse overlooking Outlook Harbor preserved their culture—the eldest of Ceaian legend.

The legend of the dragons.

As legend claimed, a dragon guarded each Ceaian harbor, its fire a source of light for ships navigating the rugged surf and rocky cliffs. Without the dragons’ guidance, sailors would crash and drown, and the Ceaian population waste away.

When the last of the dragons died, lighthouses replaced their source of light and guidance. But a lighthouse could never replace the security and warmth of a dragon.

A lighthouse could never replace the visceral reaction of seeing a dragon. Of knowing you were home.

Dominated by childlike wonder, Kazi decided, when she was six, that she would buy the old lighthouse and fix it up. Beside it, she would build an inn. And one day her inn—adorned with her sister’s flowers and succulents—would be the most lauded across all of Ceaia.

For years the dream sustained her and her sister. She would run the inn and manage the finances, meanwhile her sister would oversee decorations and meal planning. Nothing else mattered. Except for a rowdy sailor here or there. But Kazi would handle them too. Because she would protect her sister. She would always protect her little sister.

And so those girls dreamt of their future and planned for endless happiness.

But life never cared much for dreams.

Nowadays, Kazi tried to forget the lighthouse’s existence. It made it easier to ignore the ache in her heart and guilt in her mind.

Slashing rain warmed her fingers as Kazi snapped the final window shut, securing the house from the onslaught of the torrential rainstorm. The sunroom’s windows—spanning the entirety of the wall—overlooked the rolling hills of Eluca’s endless jungle, the planet’s three moons hidden behind clouds pregnant with more rain.

Housing a small couch, four armchairs, a game table, and a handful of potted plants Daria fawned over, the sunroom was Kazi’s favorite place in the house. It boasted the best view of sunrises, and the best views of Eluca’s near-daily rainstorms.

Tonight, the storm was the worst Kazi had seen since arriving on Eluca two months ago. It wasn’t an oceanic storm, but it was close enough.

Thunder boomed, loud enough to rattle the windows. Rain harshened its upheaval; lightning spider-webbed chaotic rictuses across the blackened sky.

Kazi started to smile—the awe and terror of raging storms a memory buried—but the muscle movement strained. Her half-smile fell away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she last smiled. At least two months. Probably the day before the Purge—

“I met a man at the marketplace today.”

Kazi stiffened. From the corner of her eye, her sister approached the windows, hands clasped loosely before her stomach. A healthy distance—a meter—separated their bodies. Daria seemed to maintain the distance instinctively. Kazi both noted and despised it.

There was a time when Daria would sneak into her bed late at night. Usually scared from the storms, her sister sought refuge beneath her bed covers. She hadn’t minded. What else was a big sister for?

Now, the distance was a physical phenomenon. Tangible; representative of the emotional distance built over the last decade. Kazi held the blame and responsibility. But she still craved the missing connection. The muffled laughter in the middle of the night; sneaky grins; warm hugs.

Daria observed the lashing rain with a blasé countenance that belied her usual calculation. “He’s kind but also ambitious, and his financial situation is sound. I want you to meet him—”

“No.” Kazi crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve told you, repeatedly, that I won’t entertain arranged dates—”

“This one is good,” Daria interrupted, facing her. “Give him a chance—”

“I said no.” Kazi kept her voice quiet and controlled, refusing to yell and risk waking Neyti. “I’m too busy with work and taking care of you—”

Daria recoiled. A flash of lightning emphasized the blush staining her cheeks. Kazi bit her tongue. Her sister was sensitive to any mention of her illness.

“I only ask that you consider meeting him.” Daria straightened, her gentle poise sharpening, like a vibroblade sparking to life. “I’d like to see you married before I die.”

Kazi bit back her annoyed groan, opting for a glare. Currently, she had three goals, and marriage was not one of them.

The first goal was treatment for her sister’s illness. It should have been simple to accomplish, and while she had found a healer specialized in palliative care, Daria’s symptoms were still ubiquitous and worrisome. Even now sweat beaded her sister’s forehead, and her fingers spasmed unintentionally.

The problem laid with ineffective medicine, according to Healer Natasha’s most recent report.

“As I’ve told you,” Kazi said slowly, “I’m not interested in wasting my time on arranged dates—”

“How are you not lonely?”

Kazi scoffed. “Loneliness is not a reason to get married.”

“Maybe not,” Daria said, “but you have no one to rely on. No parents. No friends. No husband.”

A hollow sensation gaped in her chest but Kazi ignored it.

Daria took her silence as permission to continue. “Marriage is a necessity in life. Humans desire companionship—women desire the stability a man can bring to our lives. We’re not meant to be alone.”

Kazi took a few seconds to organize her thoughts and counterarguments. After years with a mother who shared Daria’s sentiment, she was prepared for this specific debate.

“Marriage isn’t something you can force between two people who don’t know one another,” Kazi started, forcibly calm. “Marriage should be based on love. Not desperation or settling out of loneliness. Marriage is about two people who realize they want to share life together. Who feel life is complete when the other is in it.”

Daria snorted. “That’s quite the idealistic notion of romance I wouldn’t expect from you.”

“It’s not idealistic—”

“But it is.” Daria quirked a manicured eyebrow. “Marriage is a pact to maintain the traditions and ideals of two families, and to implement those beliefs in a future generation. It’s more than just love.”

At the condescension in her sister’s tone, Kazi gritted her teeth. She wasn’t an idealist; she preferred realism as her chosen form of analysis. But love wasn’t an idealistic notion for hopeless romantics. She had read the stories and myths. Love was attainable. Maybe not for her, but it still existed. And she refused to settle for a marriage borne out of duty rather than respect and trust and emotional connection.

The argument represented the sisters’ different lines of thinking, and Kazi couldn’t help but wonder: if their father hadn’t died when they were so young and their mother imposed Reformist teachings on an impressionable Daria, would Daria have shared Kazi’s beliefs?

Then again, Daria was the perfect mold she was trained to be: a dutiful wife. And nothing more.

“Think about Neyti,” Daria said. “She’s a child who needs stability in her life—who needs the stability a man can provide.”

Kazi sniffed. “I don’t need a man to provide stability to Neyti’s life. I can provide it.”

“I know you feel responsible for upholding your promise to her mother,” Daria placated, “but you need to think about this situation logically. Neyti needs a family. She needs two parents. She needs emotional support and love.”

“I can be her family.” Kazi frowned at her sister. “I can raise her. I can love her. I can take care of her.”

“Oh, Kazi.” Daria gave her a sympathetic look that itched. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

“You have no emotional capacity for a child. You can’t take care of her the way she deserves to be taken care of. Not when you’re alone.”

Kazi resisted the urge to flinch, and instead, shifted her attention to the game table where a bedraggled stuffed dog laid. The toy belonged to a six-year-old girl—a girl shoved into her arms when she was fleeing Ceaia. A child who no longer spoke and remained an enigma she couldn’t figure out. Neyti.

The second goal was to find Neyti suitable, loving parents. Parents who could raise the sweet child in an insecure world fraught with instability and fascism. However, the goal was proving difficult.

Entering a child into a credible adoption center required extensive documentation. Medical records, education certificates, familial-history records. Kazi didn’t even know Neyti’s last name, much less have access to any of the required documents.

Their first week on Eluca, she enrolled Neyti in the local primary school, and she secured baseline medical tests. The medical tests proved useful for Neyti’s therapy. Still, the adoption process was slow and arduous.

Daria wasn’t aware of Neyti’s impending adoption. She believed Kazi was committed to raising Neyti herself. It was a secret Kazi wanted to maintain. Still, Daria’s concern for her lacking competence to care for Neyti hurt.

“I have emotions, Daria.” Her voice was too strained and Kazi grimaced, clearing away the twinge of hurt. “I’m passionate, I feel things, I experience a wide range of emotions. Just because I don’t allow them to dictate my decisions doesn’t mean I’m unfeeling and emotionless.”

“I never said you were.” Daria waved a dismissive hand. “All I’m saying is that your emotional capacity is not sustainable nor durable for a child. You work all day; you work late into the night. You aren’t physically around much for her, and you’re too aloof to provide her the emotional stability she needs. Have you ever considered why she still doesn’t speak?”

“She’s grieving—she lost her mother two months ago,” Kazi said disbelievingly. “She needs space to grieve, and I’m not going to force her to do something she finds solace in.”

“But have you considered the possibility that she doesn’t feel comfortable or safe with you to speak?” Kazi winced at the accusation but her sister wasn’t finished. “Neyti needs emotional support, which you can’t give if you’re not physically present.”

“This conversation is over.” Kazi uncrossed her arms, fisting her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. “I’m not entertaining a marriage for the sake of a false notion of stability.”

“It’s not a false notion,” Daria argued. “You may refuse to acknowledge it in yourself, Kazi, but I see it. I see your struggles, and I know that you need someone—”

“That’s enough.” She turned away from the windows. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my own wants. So don’t you dare try to pretend that you’re interested in securing me a marriage outside of your own personal goal of making me live up to Mama’s teachings.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”

“It is. Just because you failed to get married and have children, doesn’t mean I want that for myself.”

Daria flinched. Disbelief wrinkled her forehead, and for a long moment, she merely stared at Kazi, as if uncertain who stood before her.

“Every woman wants to be married and have children,” Daria finally said, securing her hurt behind a well-practiced mask. “It’s in our nature.”

“You’re delusional.” Kazi ignored Daria’s affronted glare. “Forget Mama’s teachings. They did nothing to help you, and she was wrong about most things.”

“Don’t disrespect the dead.”

“I didn’t respect her when she was alive. What’s the difference now?”

“Maybe Mama was right.” Daria sneered at her. “Your access to emotions died the day Papa did.”

Kazi opened her mouth—what to say, she wasn’t sure—but two loud knocks on the front door interrupted. A signal. It was a reminder of her third and final goal: to survive the rebel network.

Relations with the rebel network were new and difficult to navigate. Kazi was indebted to them. She owed them her life—and Daria and Neyti’s lives—and for that reason, she served the network’s needs. However, the network wasn’t a benevolent entity, and being indebted to its cause rattled Kazi more than she liked to admit.

Typically, she avoided debts. They forced her into a compromising position, allowing someone the opportunity to control her. She preferred self-reliance to kindness, and when she did indebt herself, she always paid it back quickly.

Her father believed it a question of honor and a true demonstration of character. Her mother took a more cynical approach: “To be in someone’s debt is to give them power over you,” she once told Kazi. “Only fools put themselves in such situations.”

Sometimes she wondered how her mother would have responded to the Purge. Would the Ennari matriarch humble her obstinance to secure a means for survival?

Whatever her mother would have decided didn’t matter. Kazi sought the network’s aid, and now she owed them. So far, she had met Eluca’s five rebels, the cohort a tight-knit group. It was one of many belonging to the larger network slowly establishing a presence in the Outer Rim.

Kazi rarely interacted within the cohort, receiving orders from Fehr or Bash, the network’s main contacts, and acted alone. But that morning, she received a comm from Fehr asking her to join an unexpected meeting. The message left her unsettled, and her arrival at the abandoned warehouse used for most meetings heightened her consternation.

Some days, like that morning, she questioned if she was walking into a trap, wary of Imperial stormtroopers posed for her capture. Today, only the five other rebels were present.

“My contact has informed me that three men want to establish a safehouse out of reach of the Empire,” Fehr said. A human woman at least twenty years Kazi’s senior and the owner of one of Hollow Town’s highest employed farms, Fehr preferred brusqueness to political coyness. It was something Kazi appreciated. “Their operations will be separate from ours.”

Carinthia, a data courier for Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector and a skilled identification and chip saboteur, narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “How do you mean?”

“These men will be running rescue-and-relocate missions.” Fehr glanced across the five other members. “They’re former employees of the Empire.”

Kazi pursed her lips, noting the discomfort of those around her. Bash, Head Treasurer of Eluca’s national bank and a well-respected member of the Elucan government, furrowed his brows. Lore and Sparks, married pilots, shared a skeptical look.

“Former employees of the Empire can’t be trusted,” Carinthia argued, her skin eerily pale in the warehouse’s shadows.

“We trust you,” Lore said casually.

Carinthia sneered. “I never worked for the Empire—”

“But your family—”

“Is of no importance.” Carinthia swiped her hand through the air. “How do we know we can trust these men?”

“The more important question is,” Kazi interrupted, irritated by Fehr’s lack of transparency, “who are these men? You say they’re former employees, but where did they work?”

“Former intelligence workers would be nice to have,” Sparks said. Lore nodded her agreement.

Fehr took a deep breath, black eyes settling on Kazi. “These men are former soldiers.”

Kazi tensed, an unwelcome burst of panic clogging the back of her throat. Fehr wouldn’t risk the dangers of—

“They’re clones.”

In the silence that followed Fehr’s declaration, Kazi forced herself not to react. She bit her tongue until it hurt, controlling her features and ordering her panic to calm the fuck down. She could not appear incompetent nor afraid.

But the panic in her chest was as sharp as an electric shock. Simultaneously heart-stopping and heart-quickening.

“Clones are loyal to the Empire,” Bash said diplomatically.

A silky voice imbued with a calm that complimented Fehr’s usual bluntness, Bash was a difficult person to read. With bronze skin and cunning silver eyes, he and Fehr were the sole rebels indigenous to Eluca. His position within the planetary government, as well as his contacts within the rebel network, made him the most important and powerful member of the cohort.

To learn that Bash wasn’t aware of the clones’ arrival intrigued Kazi. Similar to the Empire’s backstabbing politicking, it seemed the rebel network didn’t share all their information with each of its contacts. Kazi tucked away the information.

“We can’t trust them,” Bash continued.

“Be reasonable, Fehr,” Carinthia said, her smile wan. “Clone allegiance is to whichever government is in control.”

Fehr straightened, and though her tone was collected, it was lined with an edge that could cut. “These men have denounced their allegiances—”

“And their allegiances could switch again.” Sparks shook his head. Even the adventurous pilot was hesitant. “If you need an example: look at the Republic.”

Agreement swept through the small group. But Fehr was staunch in her decision.

“The clones are operating a rescue-and-relocate mission. Our paths will rarely cross, and they won’t be working planetside.” Fehr stared them down, her glare unapologetic.

Shortly after, the meeting dissolved. Kazi made to leave but Fehr motioned for her and Carinthia to stay, the latter throwing a perplexed look at Kazi. The moment Bash left, his eyes narrowed in skepticism, Fehr faced the two women.

“There’s more about the clones that I didn’t share with the cohort,” Fehr said. “The clones will be staying planetside.”

To her annoyance, Kazi noticed Carinthia studying her. They were similar in age, and yet their backgrounds were vastly different. Carinthia hailed from a wealthy family that lived in the Inner Rim, and her shrewd personality bordered conniving.

“They need somewhere spacious to make their base. Somewhere far enough away from the city where they can easily hide.” Fehr squared her shoulders and stared Kazi in the eye. “I offered the men the basement.”

Kazi blinked, uncertain if she had heard correctly.

“The basement…” Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “You want the clones to stay in the basement. At the house where I’m living.”

Fehr nodded.

Her hands started to tremble and Kazi clenched her jaw. Clenched it so hard she thought it might break.

“The clones are the reason I’m on this damned planet, Fehr.” The strain in her voice was palpable but she didn’t care. Fehr was the sole rebel she considered somewhat benevolent, and this new information was a betrayal she wasn’t prepared for. “Have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t,” Fehr said calmly. Too calmly. “But these men deserted. They don’t serve the Empire and they need a place to stay. I considered one of the apartments in town but people will be curious and could start talking. The house is an ideal location.”

The house, not your house.

Because the house didn’t belong to Kazi. It belonged to Fehr who had gifted it to her when she first arrived on Eluca, homeless and penniless.

The memory still rankled her. Her pride cringed at her forced reliance on another person. Her chagrin was further heightened by her financial helplessness. Years of frugality, investments, and savings were made obsolete by the rise of the Empire.

“It’s not that awful, Kazi,” Carinthia said. “The house is large. Large enough for you three to survive cohabitation with a few clones.”

Before Kazi could respond, Fehr raised her hand. “I know your history with the clones isn’t ideal. And if you’re uncomfortable—” Carinthia released a derisive scoff that had Kazi tensing. Fehr shot the younger woman a hard look. “If it’s too much, I can look at other locations. But the basement—”

“Is ideal,” Carinthia cut in. “It’s large enough, and it connects to the communications tower. I assume that’s a necessity for them.” Carinthia twirled a crimson curl around a finger, her expression contemplative. “Eluca’s proximity to a well-plotted hyperlane, and the surgent of Imperial military bases across Veridian Sector and the Outer Rim, at large, make this planet the most effective base.”

Fehr nodded, her attention returning to a still-silent Kazi. “It’s your choice.”

Except it wasn’t. Not really. The house wasn’t even in her name—an attempt to protect her sister and Neyti. To prevent Imperial officials looking into their sudden immigration and ambiguous history.

It was an older yet well-maintained home settled in a forgotten neighborhood five kilometers from Hollow’s Town. The neighborhood stood empty except for two other houses located a kilometer away.

Built a century prior in the midst of a planetary civil war, the basement served as a bomb shelter. One of four designated for the neighborhood. Fortified by duracrete and buried deep in Eluca’s soil, the basement housed five bedrooms with ten bunks each, three refreshers equipped with full amenities, and a war room dedicated to military strategy. The war room was still wired to the communication tower in the capital. The only communication tower available for public use in Veridian Sector with consistent and reliable access to the Mid and Inner Rims.

Kazi had visited the basement once. The darkness, and the knowledge that hundreds of tons of dirt could easily bury her, convinced her never to return. It was the ideal location for rescue-and-relocate missions. Which irked her.

“It’s fine.” She clasped her hands behind her back. She was indebted to Fehr, anyway. “We can make it work.”

Three more knocks, rapid and quieter, followed the first two. The completion of the signal. Kazi followed Daria through the kitchen and toward the front door, her body tensed to a point of pain. Anxiety itched her skin, like thousands of ants crawling along her spine and burrowing in her hair.

She opened the door and then retreated a safe distance. Fehr stepped into the small entryway. Behind her, three males followed. Dark gray ponchos hid their upper bodies and hoods cast their faces in shadows.

Kazi schooled her features into insouciance. One of the few benefits of etiquette lessons: she could control her expression. For the most part.

Rain frizzed Fehr’s ebony hair and the older woman patted her braids, nodding at Kazi. She scanned the kitchen behind the two sisters. “Is Neyti—”

“Asleep.” Her tone was curt and she ignored Daria’s disapproving scowl.

The older woman chuckled. “School must have been exhausting if she can sleep in this weather.”

“The thunder was louder back—” Well, it didn’t matter.

Silence ensued, eclipsed by the echoing thunder and the rain from the clones’ ponchos dripping onto the hardwood floor. Ever the dutiful host, Daria stepped forward, her smile practiced kindness and warmth.

The ease in her sister’s friendliness was a point of jealousy for Kazi. Growing up, she yearned to exude the same gentleness Daria effortlessly managed. She never perfected it.

“Welcome,” Daria said. She gestured to Kazi. “We made up three of the beds downstairs and stocked the fridge with extra food.”

It was a lie. Kazi didn’t shop for the food—only Daria—and she didn’t make the beds. She lugged the sheets and pillow cases from the upstairs closet to the basement but she refused to make a bed for a grown adult.

The clone to the left stepped forward and removed his hood. Beneath the dimmed lights in the entryway his skin was dark brown and his eyes even darker. A white scar threaded itself from his temple to his cheek. Black hair was trimmed precisely, long enough to run a hand through. He looked to be a year or two older than Kazi. Possibly twenty-eight.

“That was generous of you,” the clone said. He gestured to the two other clones. “We’re grateful for this.”

A blush darkened Daria’s cheeks and Kazi almost rolled her eyes. Her sister extended her hand and the clone accepted it. “I’m Daria, and this is my sister, Kazi.”

Kazi didn’t step forward; she didn’t offer her hand. She merely nodded. The clone assessed her for a moment, his eyes flitting from her face to Daria’s, probably noting their differences.

Trained for society, Daria carried herself with an easy elegance. Her hair was honeyed and loosely curled. The green of her eyes was darker than the jungle after a rain shower. Hours gardening over the years had softened the curves of her body.

Unlike her sister, years of swimming left Kazi with an athletic and toned build. A body type undesired by high society Ceaian males, as she was told, repeatedly, by her instructors.

And even though she attended the same finishing classes as Daria, she never mastered her sister’s posh demeanor. She was well-mannered and polite, but she spoke with a bluntness considered too judgmental, further heightened by the darkness of her eyes with their slashes of hazel.

“Like a bird of prey,” her instructor for Poise and Deportment once complained to her mother.

Her mother considered her with a critical eye, and Kazi steeled herself. “I would counter: sunlight in a meadow.”

It was one of the rare times her mother complimented her, and it had stuck with her the last seven years. To this day, her eyes remained her favorite feature.

A throat cleared and Fehr glanced at her chrono. “Kazi, Daria, let me introduce you to former commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox.”

Kazi’s heart faltered.

Commanders. The clones weren’t just soldiers. They were fucking commanders.

She shot Fehr a baleful glare. The older woman’s gaze was already on her face, and imperceptibly, she dipped her chin, acknowledgement and confirmation of Kazi’s unspoken accusation.

The woman had known all along the clones were former commanders. She had known and had refused to mention it.

If the situation hadn’t affected her life, Kazi would have admired Fehr’s sly play. Instead, she ignored the woman, fisting her hands tightly behind her back to hide their trembling.

The two other clones removed their ponchos. Kazi tried not to stare but the rumors were true. They were identical. Except for a few distinctive traits.

The one on the right—Commander Fox—bore a scar on his chin; his hair was similarly styled to Commander Cody’s. At her perusal, the clone arched a brow. His eyes swept across her face, in both assessment and curiosity.

She moved her gaze to the last one. Commander Wolffe.

He was observing her with a neutrally-controlled countenance. Narrowed eyes. Rigid shoulders. Calculated expression.

Kazi recognized the look in his face—the subtle wariness and hardened reticence. It was the same shrewdness she practiced. One she relied on to determine genuine from disingenuous; trustworthy from unreliable.

Emphasizing the guarded calculation in his gaze was a stark white scar. Like a bolt of lightning, it seared the skin above his right eye and slashed down to his cheek. Whatever had torn his skin must have ruined his eye, for a silver cybernetic sat in his socket.

“I have business to attend to,” Fehr said, drawing Kazi’s attention away from her analysis. The lack of explanation and the urgency in Fehr’s tone warned Kazi the ‘business’ was network-related.

Once the darkness of night swallowed Fehr’s form, Daria showed the clones to the basement. Surreptitiously hidden behind a white bookcase bereft of personable touches other than a dragon figurine and a few succulents Daria had purchased the last few weeks, the staircase to the basement was dimly lit by a buttery-yellow light. The stairs descended into a blackness thicker than the ocean’s surface on a moonless night.

Few words were exchanged. Kazi didn’t bother with false pleasantries, she left it to Daria, and soon the basement door swung back in place. The bookcase rested snugly against the white wall. Even the most observant soldier would overlook the entrance’s location.

“They seem…nice,” Daria said, shifting the pot of a vibrant blue succulent. “You could have been more inviting.”

“Why?” Kazi gave her sister a condescending smile. “Are you wanting to match me with one of them?”

“Kazi.” Daria released an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying to help you prepare—”

“I don’t need your help. And I certainly don’t want it.”

“Fine.” Dabbing at her forehead, Daria sniffed. “I’m sorry for caring.”

Kazi snorted. “Caring? Is that what you call this nagging?”

“I do care.” Daria started to tremble. “I have always cared and—” She cut off, pressing a palm to her temple, her face screwed in pain.

Kazi reached for Daria’s shoulder, her stomach dipping with concern. But her sister backed away. The dismissal silent yet resoundingly loud. Louder than the thunder rattling the old windowpanes. Her hand fell to her side; she tried to ignore the guilt bittering her mouth.

Lifting her chin, Daria smoothed the fabric of her pale purple dress. She looked Kazi over once, disappointment thinning her lips, and then made her way toward the staircase opposite the bookcase. The old stairs creaked beneath her labored pace.

The moment her sister’s door clicked shut, Kazi collapsed on the bottom step, rubbing her temples.

She didn’t want the clones here. Hell, she didn’t want to be here. On this planet. In this fucking house.

It was too much.

Daria’s disease.

Neyti’s adoption.

Spying for the network.

Three clone commanders.

A disappointment. Incompetent. Indebted. Possibly endangered.

She looked out the kitchen windows toward a clearing sky. Eluca’s three moons peeked through the clouds like a child peering through a curtain. The urge to run—to ignore all of her problems, to avoid the responsibility—hit her.

But she couldn’t run. Not this time.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

A/N: Next chapter release – January 11th

Pronunciations:

Kazi Ennari: kah-zee ; uh-nar-ee Daria: dar-ee-uh Neyti: nay-tea Fehr: fare Eluca: eh-look-ah (emphasis on first syllable) Ceaia: say-ee-uh (emphasis on second syllable)

#I Year and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #star wars fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfiction

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kedsandtubesocks · 9 months

Text

in the shadow (of your heart) - Mandalorian!Bakugo

pairing: Mandalorian!Katsuki Bakugo x Jedi!Reader

tags & warnings: (all characters aged-up 25+) Star Wars AU, intense yearning and light angst, brief discussion of raising children, a surprise Jedi!Todoroki x Smuggler!reader appearance, Monoma bestie supremacy, exploration of mandalorian lore and customs, inexperienced Bakugo and the endearing fluff that comes with him

wc: 7.6k

a/n: here it is…the cultivation of all my other snippets and ficlets that have led to this moment, you don’t necessarily need to read them before to understand this but I think it would just add to the goodness of reaching this point, biggest and dearest thank you to @willowser & @ofmermaidstories always being my mando bakugo squad, also the title of this piece comes from the always lovely Florence + the machine & her song ‘cosmic love’ - thank you for reading!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

It’s been a galactic month since your entire world collapsed.

A month has passed since the Jedi temple was attacked. A month since you woke up and found yourself in the bedroom of the mandalorian that conquered your heart.

And a month since you…

The thought of what you did has you flinching in pain like you just touched an exposed live wire.

Someone calls out your name. When you turn there stands Shouto along with his intriguing friend - the scavenger pickpocket who could speak seven and maybe even more languages.

“We plan to explore Tatooine tomorrow.” Todoroki is patient and calm, a true honor to his Jedi title. “You’re more than welcomed to join us.”

Even his friend, the pickpocketing smuggler who still does not seem trustworthy, wears a rather understanding look mirroring Shouto’s.

You think of the heat on Tatooine, the blistering mirage of the sand and the change of scenery it might bring.

So you agree to go.

Shouto smiles a reassuring grin that whispers of how proud he is for you to take this step.

His smuggler friend grins wider. “Sweet, guess that means I get to steal a bigger means of transport for us.”

“No.” Shouto flat out swiftly shuts the idea down.

Something hollow, the echo of a laugh leaves you but you hope even this is the start of returning back to yourself.

You send Monoma a private message over your jailbroken data pad about your upcoming trip. He immediately calls as you pack.

“Sure Tatooine is boring but...” Neito begins, a bit bored himself. “You can go snag me one of those nice satchels the vendors there sell.”

The truth is easy to find under his words.

I’m glad you’re getting out, I’m glad you’re trying to move forward.

You ask if the Jedi council has anything new to stay and just thinking about it draws a deep ache in your soul.

“Nah. They’re mainly keeping busy overseeing the rebuilding process and there’s been no update on the hunt for the culprit.”

You sigh. There had been no leads or luck on your side of the search either.

“I’m not surprised. Leads are going cold. Even with Sir disgusting picture perfect Jedi knight Deku still on Naboo, we got nothing.”

Oddly enough you missed hearing Monoma complain about the shining star that emerged from your academy class.

“Let’s hope Tatooine has something.” You hope.

“Well now with you on the investigation team I know we’ll get shit done. And if not, I’m getting so close to blowing something up myself.”

“Hey now.” You playfully chide Monoma. “No threats of violence now, Jedi Knight.”

Monoma chuckles weakly but the comment draws blood at a barely healing wound.

A silence settles between you and your dear friend. Its heaviness over the call clogs your senses and painfully crawls over your skin.

“Miss you dummy.” Nieto coughs out through tears and you furiously blink back your own.

“Miss you too, you annoying ass.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Tatooine’s heat bears down unforgivingly.

The planet’s two suns stings your eyes. There’s even sand in places you didn’t think it could reach. But the liveliness of Mos Eisley, the commotion of the markets, comfort you and raise your spirits.

Under the dry air it feels as if you are resurfacing, emerging from a fog you have existed in for an entire month.

It’s invigorating, has you strolling through the markets with a relaxed ease.

Shouto and his smuggler, who is notoriously friendly with the Jawas, decide to check the junkyards first for any new information and leads. You instead head to the city to hopefully pick up any chatter about the temple.

After all, you are no longer in your Jedi robes.

So any fear of someone not speaking about the temple around you is gone.

Among the bustling marketplace in the heart of the city, a stall with shimmering jewels and trinkets twinkling under the two suns snags your attention. Specifically a beautiful iridescent gem like pendant immediately catches your eye. The jewel hangs off a simple sturdy leather thread and allows the stunning crystal to be center focus. Your fingers trace over it gingerly and fondly.

“Oh, are you planning to propose soon?”

The vendor suddenly asks intrigued and brightly curious. Her words make you choke out a wild dry cough.

“Excuse me?” You politely and weakly laugh.

“That’s an engagement pendant!” The older twi’lek woman beams excitedly with a twinkle in her eyes almost rivaling her jewelry.

“You have someone special in mind?”

The image of who you have in mind flashes fast. His striking black beskar armor, the electric orange and green trimming… his loud voice…

Your heart starts crumbling in your chest.

“No.” Your reply is rather hollow. “Just thought it looked beautiful.”

Whatever else the woman hears in your voice is enough to quiet any more questions she might have. You return to browsing the other jewels offered on the stand. But even with the beautiful craftsmanship before you, a slow poison seeps into your mouth and you try swallowing it back. But your heart remains an open wound thinking of that mandalorian.

And you think it always might be now.

The stall vendor who went silent now gasps so sharply it spooks you. You snap your gaze up to her.

Her eyes staring beyond you are wide and hypnotized.

“A mandalorian.” She whispers.

A terrifying dread runs up your spine. The rational voice screaming inside your head argues it could be any mandalorian, that you shouldn’t be getting this worked up.

You decide to see and prove to yourself that it is not the mandalorian haunting your existence.

When you turn off to the side -

You discover striking obsidian beskar armor, a beautiful ink dot against the shimmering sands.

Your heart collapses. Your legs almost buckle.

The familiar beskar helmet stares straight at you.

“Shitty Jedi!”

Then the mandalorian screams so gutturally loud that half of the market turns towards him.

You turn the other way and run.

Your heart races wildly loud in your ears, a horrifying war like drumbeat.

It can’t be him.

But in your heart of hearts you know it is. You would know it’s him in every lifetime, in any other reality.

In such a wild panic you can’t fully comprehend your focus. You even forget to use the force to run away.

A dead end hallway stops you in your tracks. Before you can bolt in another direction, a mandalorian descends down from the sky. He lands before you a fiery man of myth immortalized straight from his people’s creed.

“What the fuck?!” Bakugo screams at you raw and demanding.

“Stop screaming!” You hiss back but your voice already begins cracking.

“No!” He snarls back.

“You’re going to cause a scene.” You snap back harder and glare fierce at him.

“I don’t fucking care!” He punches out every word not wavering once. Standing across from you, Bakugo is an intimidating force so broad and filling up the space with his armor.

It’s a simple staring contest. No words are spoken for what feels like hours. A part of you wonders if maybe this is all just a heat mirage illusion brought on by your sad heart.

You end up sighing defeated.

You weren’t going to have this discussion, this reunion, here in an alleyway of the city. You and him deserved better than that.

So with a silent nudge of your face beckoning him to you, the mandalorian wordlessly follows you back to the hostel Shouto’s smuggler booked.

A rapid nostalgic haze tugs at you. This feeling of him so close to you, walking through a crowded planet is as if not a day has gone by.

Yet, an entire month hangs between you and him.

Thankfully your two travel companions are still out when you return to the suite. In the eerie stillness of the cramped room, you turn to the tense warrior.

“What are you doing here?” You don’t even have the energy to yell at him.

Out of all the planets in this grand universe, how did you have the luck of stumbling into this man here?

“That annoying fuckin’ blonde Jedi friend of yours.” Bakugo replies gruffly and his words rattle your brain.

“Wait, Monoma?!” You’re the one shrieking now.

The helmeted warrior nods.

“He told me you’d be here…” Bakugo’s voice trails off.

Even with the rabid confusion consuming your brain, you remember Neito was planned to be sent back to Mandalore. However, he never spoke about it with you. So you began to wonder if he ever did go. Now it makes sense and only confirms your suspicions.

“Why did he tell you?” Your voice wavers frustrated.

The mandalorian’s fist clenches. “Because I told him I needed to talk to you, shitty Jedi.”

The term claws at your soul.

“I’m not a Jedi anymore.” You flat out tell him.

A moment passes.

“Yeah…blondie told me about that too.”

Your heart drops. Of course Monoma told him. He always was a damn gossip.

All you can do is shakily exhale.

The memory still stings so raw.

Leaving your lightsaber at the ruins of the temple, crying with Neito over your decision, sitting with a thick confusion that had you in a daze for days…

“Why?” Bakugo asks, confused, dare you even say genuinely concerned.

“Why did you leave the order?” He clarifies.

The question you knew was coming.

The weight of its answer still feels too grand, too out of reach even for you. It’s like your heart and mind can’t fully comprehend into words the complicated sticky reason.

You tried to justify that your confusion mainly stemmed from the trauma of the temple attack and that you needed time to mediate, to heal. But the truth, your answer, is that you wanted more.

You wanted to yank off the shackles keeping you from reaching for him, that kept you from embracing every aspect of your heart.

So you half heartedly lie.

“I couldn’t wholeheartedly serve the order anymore.” Even stripped of the title of Jedi knight, your answer surprises you. So noble and composed as ever, a hard habit you think you might never fully be rid of.

“What’s that supposed to fuckin’ mean?” Of course Bakugo sees through your words, tries digging through them.

“It means what it means.” You reply back sharply. “I couldn’t stay in the order. I had too much on my mind and I knew…”

You knew that everything in you ache to break everything you were raised with. Because after you faced ruin and destruction, you ached to step forward into a future full of life without anything holding you back, without worrying if you were disappointing anyone or even yourself.

“I knew I couldn’t honor the Jedi.” You finish simply.

You were thankful those like Shouto and Monoma especially understood and helped guide you. They supported you even after your path diverged from theirs.

It’s why you would continue to still help look for the culprit who attacked the temple. You might not see yourself as a Jedi anymore but that didn’t mean you would truly abandon them.

So absorbed in your thoughts you don’t realize how quiet the room has gotten until Bakugo suddenly breaks it.

“Sorry…Knew how much it meant to you.”

It did. But you realized there are things that might mean more.

All you can do is weakly thank him.

You sigh again as the weight of this moment slowly curls over your shoulders and tries to dig past your skin.

“Is that why you left without saying shit? Without even saying goodbye?” His voice gradually fluctuates with tension and hurt. It shreds apart your heart with a jagged edge.

After you had woken up in Bakugo’s room, you stayed in a pretend sleep whenever he returned, not ready to face him yet. You couldn’t continue to keep bringing him into your path of trouble. Even after meditating, even after deciding to leave the Jedi order, you came to the same conclusion. You needed to leave this mandalorian.

For his sake and maybe mainly yours.

So you tell him how you managed to leave like a wordless ghost.

In your first true selfish act, in your first step at shattering your sense of self as a Jedi, you used the force to sense when Bakugo left. Once he was far away enough, you slipped out of the hut. Using the force to cause diversions, you bolted straight to the planet’s port of entry. After that you slipped away onto the next transportation shop.

You cried the entire time on the way back to Coruscant.

You do not tell him this.

Now the consequence of all these actions, your actions, stands before you hurt and anger forged in a man of beskar armor.

“You didn’t even tell me.” His voice cracks and your eyes blink through cloudy tears to stare at him.

You ache to see his eyes, to know what this man looks like.

“I have my reasons, and I’m sorry. I really am.” You apologize, wiping your tears away.

“Yeah? Those reasons better be real fucking good!” He snarls and you glare furious at this mandalorian.

“You wouldn’t understand.” You snap back like a cornered loth cat. You’re tired. You’re emotionally drained and the heat of the planet is catching up to you. You wearily move to sit on the creaky dusty couch.

“To have something control your life that keeps you away from someone…from somethings-”

You quickly correct yourself, but your voice continues wavering more and more with the frustrated tears threatening to spill.

“You’re so loyal to your own creed and I…I couldn’t face you.”

You don’t tell him the whole truth.

You don’t utter the truth that you loved him so much that it alerted your entire world. You wanted to let yourself love him against all odds. But, you wonder if this myth of a man could even possibly hold the same feelings towards you.

Every emotion tears you apart all over again. Inside of you rages a storm ripping apart every safe harbor you had built. All you can do is close your eyes to stop the tears from the storm raging.

“You said it kept you away from someone.” Keen as ever, Bakugo catches your comment.

That’s when you also notice his voice is closer.

Your eyes snap open and your heart drops into your stomach. The explosive mandalorian kneels before you.

“Who?” He asks calm, firm and surprisingly low.

You can’t even say his name and instead stare at him, stubborn and your tongue locked up tight

Bakugo says your name in the same direct tone except now with an undercurrent of urgency.

“Who?” He repeats again.

Out of frustration or maybe finally the weight of your emotions cracks you. Angrily shove away tears until you eventually cry into one of your hands not even able to look at him.

“I knew we could never be together.” You croak out a whisper. “You’re engaged. And with your creed, even when I stopped being a Jedi I just…”

The words escape you on another sob.

Large gloved hands suddenly rest gently on your thighs. Panic snaps your eyes open and there his striking black helmet stares unwaveringly at you.

Bakugo firmly says your name and you wait for the heartbreak that’s about to come.

“Marry me.”

It doesn’t.

“What!?” You ask through tears and snot.

“Marry me.” Bakugo repeats as unflinching and true as he did the first time.

“You… you’re engaged!” You stammer out.

“Obviously not! I’m in love with you but I’m not a fucking asshole! I wouldn’t have asked you if I was still engaged!”

His words knock you breathless, throw you out of orbit and you’re surprised your body has not floated away.

“You love me.” The words don’t sound real even from your mouth.

He coughs out a watery sound and moves forward. His bodily slots between your legs effortlessly. He curls against you and presses his helmeted forehead to yours.

“More than you know, shitty jedi.” He croaks while his strong arms wrap you in his embrace.

“Not a Jedi anymore.” You mutter watery as you clutch onto him.

“You’re not.” Bakugo confirms as he moves to rest his helm against your face.

“Be my riduur instead.”

During your time in Mandalore you picked up on plenty of Mando’a phrases and words. You even flirted with the idea of trying to learn the language fully.

You did learn some mandalorian words held a sacredness that set them apart because of their layered holy weight.

Riduur is one of those words.

It translates to wife, husband, spouse. But riduur held the weight of a partner forged in such a deep love that the basic term of spouse couldn’t capture the bond a mandalorian marriage would bring.

Your eyes widen and a storm of tears blur your vision. This time however, it’s the overwhelming overflow of emotion filling your heart and spilling over.

Nodding you holding onto him tighter.

You try joking about wanting to be the only one who gets to annoy him for the rest of his life. But your voice comes out a ridiculous sob.

Bakugo barks a wild chuckle and his arms tighten around you as well.

“S’why I asked you. Couldn’t put up with any other extra.”

Your eyes close right as you now hold onto your fiancé, and the thought of that makes your brain trip over itself.

“We’re getting married.” You mutter out mainly to yourself still not believing it.

“Damn right.” Bakugo growls low and proud.

“Congratulations.”

Your eyes snap open wide and horrified at hearing Todoroki’s simple flat comment.

Your mandalorian scrambles away from your embrace to instead lean in front of you, as if to shield you.

Standing in the door’s entryway is Todoroki and his smuggler friend who smacks your once fellow Jedi knight.

“I told you to keep quiet!” The smuggler cries out horrified at being caught.

You’re embarrassed. Bakugo is screaming obscenities but for some reason, you laugh. It’s a buyout laugh filling you bright and beautiful. That’s when the force suddenly surges through you warm and celebratory.

Earlier this month you thought it had slipped away. That even the force itself began to pull away because of your decisions.

But now it hums beautifully in and around your body, exhilarated and electric. You think you could power an entire planet.

You laugh and simply lean against your fiancé who continues to threaten to blast poor Todoroki out the window. But his hand suddenly reaches out to your knee and he squeezes it tight, reassuring as if to say I am here.

You came to Tatooine simply looking for a lead on the temple attack.

Now would be leaving it engaged with a mandalorian by your side.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Come back to my ship with me.” He mutters softly after you manage to drag him away to a local cantina to grab something to eat.

You don’t hesitate to follow him.

The inside of his grand sleek starship, modified to fit a whole room compartment, greets you like the warmest old friend. You even take a stroll around trying to see if he added anything new.

“So you wanna to get married now or what?” Bakugo simply asks.

Your mind feels as if he just set off one of his explosives inside.

“Now?!” You shriek shrill and chaotic.

“Yes now.” You’ve been with him long enough to know this tone suggests he’s rolling his eyes.

Trying to process this your mind sputters in a spiral like a broken speeder bike.

You understood mandalorians held certain courting rituals that you vaguely heard of. You voice this concern to your mandalorian who crosses his hands over his chest in a pouting type manner.

“That’s for potential marriage partners. We’re already engaged aren’t we?” Bakugo challenges.

“So we just skipped an entire courting process?” He seemed like such a traditionalist and would be upset over this. You even sound more upset than he does.

Especially when your fiancé simply shrugs.

“You’re not mad?” Now you have to ask and he shakes his head a casual no.

“Didn’t need to court anyone else.” He gruffy asserts confident and true.

So that meant jumping straight into marriage?

Whatever lies on your face, whatever is clouding your heart, your fiancé notices it and sighs.

He explains how Mandalorians typically didn’t have long engagements. When someone proposes marriage it’s with the acknowledgment they would be wedded moments or at the latest days after.

It mirrored the same direct quickness the first mandalorian vows were rumored to have been said in the creed’s legend.

“Look,” Bakugo continues with all the conviction a warrior pursuing victory holds.

“I know that’s my culture and shit but…We can wait whenever you’re ready.” He reassures you.

“I’ll wait for as long as you need because I know the ending s’always going to be the same. And that’s me as your husband. So if we do it today or fuck a year from now, I’ll wait.”

Love crashes into you in waves and you cannot fight the current any longer.

“So whenever you’re ready.” Bakugo’s beautiful beskar helmet nudges towards you. “You let me know.”

Now, you want to marry him now.

“Bakugo-” You are about to say your answer when he cuts you off.

“Katsuki.” He corrects you, a gentle firmness that speaks of his kind understanding.

His first name.

The most precious of gifts he can give to you and now here it is ready for yours to hold.

“Katsuki.” And you find to tastes like the most reverent prayer.

Mandalorian weddings, from what you remembered, were quick and privately intimate ceremonies. Here in his ship, away from his home planet and far away from yours on Coruscant, it’s as if this space is carved out just for you and him.

You don’t care about how long it’s been since you last saw him or that you only have been engaged for less than a day.

You want this, to be married to him, for him to be your husband.

And maybe it’s the shackles of the Jedi order being released from you but you want to be selfish. You want to grab at anything you want and greedily say yes it is okay to want without any guilt. It is beautiful to embrace it.

“Guess you’ll be the one having to call me Bakugo then huh?” You tease light but adoration coats your voice thick.

His shoulders tense. You can almost sense, almost see the suspended hope hanging on by a thread.

“So…you saying yes?” He tentatively ask.

You nod repeatedly and firmly.

“I want to marry you now.”

Katsuki walks closer to you, gently holding your hand in his.

“There’s this saying…” he begins low as if someone outside the ship might hear him.

He says a phrase and you can’t process what it is. You barely even pick up a word of Mando’a

“It’s a way we say I love you.” Katsuki explains. “But translate into basic it means something like… I’ll know you forever.”

To know is to love and to love is to know a person.

“That’s beautiful.” You admire and he nods silently.

“You know me, more than anyone else has.” Your mandalorian tells you. “And I know you. And even when I think I didn’t want to. I wanna keep knowing you for as long as I live.”

You swallow back a sob threatening to escape as you nod. You want that too.

He squeezes your hand.

“You ready?”

You squeeze his hand back. “I am.”

For a moment you think of the oath you took when you became a Jedi knight. How you swore to consecrate yourself to the universe, to a grand idea that would tie you to preserving an ideal and cause until your last breath.

Here you are now taking another vow, another oath, that you swear to honor for the rest of your days.

“Repeat after me.” Katsuki says and you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice.

“We are one when we are together or apart.” He declares and you repeat.

We are one when we are together or apart.

“We will share everything.”

We will share everything.

“And…” he pauses for a moment, but quickly gathers himself.

“We will raise warriors.”

The implications are not lost on you. You knew how open the mandalorians were about adoption, about raising children communally. This was a topic you would have to deeply discuss with him.

But the idea of simply guiding and watching over any young ones, even if they were not your own, even if you and him decide to not have children, shifts your world. Because just being by his side to help guide the next generation as you grow old with him is more than you can ever imagine.

We will raise warriors.

Once the words leave your mouth suddenly a shaky modulated exhale escapes your mandalorian.

Katsuki breathes out your name.

His bare hands move to cradle your face and a wide range of beautiful emotions begin to bubble in you.

“You shitty Bakugo.” Your husband, your husband, croaks to you tear soaked. You laugh loud and just as watery as he sounds.

That was going to take some time to adjust to. But this, in every way, is better than hearing him call you a shitty Jedi. Because you are Jedi no more. And now you exist as a Bakugo.

The excitement and giddiness bubbles over, illuminates you from the inside out. Katsuki presses his helmeted face against yours as you embrace him tight.

“I love you.” You breathe out to your husband.

Katsuki squeezes you firmer. You simply exist in this moment in his arms soaking in the quiet but powerful conviction of this new existence. You are someone’s spouse. You are his, just as irrevocably he is yours.

Katsuki mutters out your name.

“There’s…still one thing we gotta do.” He adds.

Oh?

Slowly Katsuki untangles himself from you and you already miss his warmth. His shoulders slightly curl over and his helmet can’t even face you.

A tinge of fear bubbles in you fast and threatens to poison the barely moments old wedding bliss.

“I’m going to have to fight your ex fiancé for stealing you away, aren't I?” The idea that pops into your head so fast and quick you can’t even stop it.

The beskar helmet turns back to you.

Then, Katsuki bursts out laughing. A true warm gruff cackle that shakes his shoulders and makes you want to smack him.

“What?! That’s it, isn’t it!?” You shriek. You immediately dreadfully think of having to go hand to hand against the red and white armored mandalorian of Yui Kodai, who you only met once.

Katsuki continues to laugh even after you begin pouting. He even shakes his helmeted head a solid no.

“Fuckin’ love your ridiculous ass so much.” He breathes out a wonderful modulated sigh.

His hands move up towards his helmet.

And then he begins to raise it.

The action clicks instantly in your mind. In many cultures and customs a kissing vow is exchanged after weddings. You wondered if that was a secret only known by mandalorians.

So out of respect for your new husband you naturally close your eyes.

The hissing sound of his helmet being removed fills the small space of his ship. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the quiet but electrifying sound.

You wait for the pressure of his lips against yours.

Nothing comes.

The force even retreats away from you so softly like a loth cat returning to its bed to nap and you feel a chill in the air.

Katsuki sighs slightly shaken and heavy.

You’re about to ask if he’s okay, want to comfort him already when he speaks up first.

His voice crystal clear calls out your name.

“Open your eyes.”

The words clutch your throat and ignite an electric wave throughout your body.

“What?” You ask a bit confused because maybe you had misheard.

“You heard me.” Katsuki urges gruffly but gentle, so truly like him. “Open your eyes.”

You couldn’t.

It was against the code, against everything he stood for, everything his people stood for.

The surprise brush of his fingers against yours provides a solid stability.

“What?” He teases light. “Afraid of what you might see?”

No. That wasn’t it at all.

You even shake your head a furious stubborn no that makes him chuckle.

You know without even seeing him that he’s beautiful, probably one of the most striking forces to ever be seen in this galaxy.

“You know I can’t.” A fervent urgency leaks into your voice as if you want to remind both him and yourself of the danger behind this act.

Defiance, banishment, excommunication.

The words sting you fierce.

Like the solid lifeline he is, the back of Katsuki’s bare hand tenderly running across your cheek floats you out of your hectic thoughts.

“We’re married now, idiot.” His voice wavers. “Clan members are allowed to see our faces.”

Something deep inside of you shifts so effortlessly.

You are a clan member now. The answer hangs so truthfully and effortlessly in the air you almost can sense the force itself giggling at you.

You want to see him. You’ve wanted nothing more than this, to know him and know the face of your husband.

So you open your eyes.

The first week after you left the Jedi order, Shouto’s smuggler friend took you out for a drink. There on the sips of alcohol and the freedom it tasted of, you spilled your heartache.

“In love with a mandalorain.” The scavenger had sighed almost a bit apologetic. “And you have no idea what he looks like?”

You shook your head no.

“I have imagined it though,” you instead added boldly because you had.

At first you couldn’t picture what this man of fire and beskar, who would fight a galaxy with his bare hands, would look like. But for some reason you always pictured his eyes bright, like the fiercest force that could never be dimmed because that’s the type of man he is. You believed his eyes would reflect that.

And now you find they do.

The most stunning crimson eyes stare at you so openly, honest, hesitant and guarded slightly. The bold red color is beautiful. You don’t even think you’ve seen eyes so gemlike.

You think of how red for a Jedi is aligned with the sith. It’s not a color one wants to encounter in a lightsaber. There was even a legend that spoke of how the first red kyber crystal was created when a sith held a white crystal in their hand until they bled and let the color soak into the gem.

The color that was once a warning sign now stares at you as a promise of your future, wonderful and warm like the red sky in the evening.

It fits him too.

The color of war, blood and passion so vividly mixing with the color strongly associated with love…

You think you fall in love all over again with this mandalorian.

Then you finally soak in his entire face and feel your soul leave your body.

He’s handsome. Of course he’s handsome you knew he would be. But he’s stunning in a way that has your thoughts clustering together in a collision.

A strong sharp manly jaw, high cheekbones, and the softest spikes of blonde hair -

You can’t believe it. He’s a blonde. He’s gorgeous.

And he’s yours.

“You’re beautiful.” You croak out freely and tear soaked.

You get to see his emotions flash across his face now, see how his eyes shimmer so glossy as his eyebrows furrow.

“Shitty riduur, that’s my line.” Katsuki replies back just as thick and his hand now simply cradles your face once again.

What did the vows say? That you and him were now one whether together or apart?

That already seems to be so true. Or maybe it always was.

The way you and Kastuki seemed to both mirror and repel each other like planets trying to fight a gravity bigger than your orbits. Now here you are.

You can’t help it.

You laugh a watery jubilant thing and clutch onto his hand still resting on your face. You happily burrow closer into his hold.

Slowly but so firmly Katsuki draws you into him. His bare face goes to rest against yours. His nose even burrows against your forehead as he towers over you.

Shakily your mandalorian exhales, relieved and gentle and you melting into him more.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him. “For showing me…for letting me know you.”

Katsuki’s arms wiggle out to now wrap you in a true warm embrace.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mutters back and your heart jumps at his lips tickling against your skin.

“You smell s’good.” His molten syrupy voice seeps into the very core of your being.

Your mind feels cloudy but in the best way so much that you can only hum back a quiet thanks as you press your cheek against his warm face more.

He says your name and your eyes, which had closed in pure content bliss, open wearily.

“There’s…there's somethin’ else…”

What elses could there be?

Begrudgingly you draw back from his warmth and glance up at him a bit curious now.

It’s so interesting and even a bit funny to see how expressive your husband truly is now. His crimson eyes are averted from you. His pretty blonde brows furrow so hard and faintly a hint of pink begins to color his cheeks.

Embarrassed, he seems embarrassed.

You’re about to ask what he means when suddenly those gemstone eyes of his snap back to you quickly and fierce.

“I wanna kiss you.”

He flat out says it but with unwavering solid sharpness.

The thought almost makes your body buckle. You even almost choke on the sharp inhale you take.

“O-oh.” You stammer out.

“Yeah.” Katsuki mutters out low and slightly bashful.

At just the thought your eyes immediately flicker to his lips. You noticed them earlier of course when you first saw his face but didn’t want to stare. Now you find they are soft, plush and you want to press your lips against his more than ever.

“I haven’t…” your mandalorian begins then his voice trails off.

He hasn’t kissed anyone.

It makes sense. He’s so abstinent in his loyalty that he would never remove his helmet for a simple kiss.

And, for some reason that truth licks a dangerously warm heat up your throat that also seizes your heart. To know you’d be the first and only one to kiss him awakens something clawed and pleased inside of you.

Katsuki swallows hard.

He’s hesitant, embarrassed, maybe even worried. It paints his handsome face so easily.

Very cautiously your hand rises up to his face.

After having his face covered for most of his life out of instinct Katsuki immediately snaps his attention to your hand with a hard cautious scowl. You freeze, wondering if this is all too much.

But then realizing what you are trying to do, your mandalorain’s scarlet eyes soften instantly. When your hand softly rests against his face, mainly against his sturdy jaw, Kastuki exhales heavily as he closes his eyes.

The weight of this force of a warrior melts against your hand as he leans against it fully.

“You’re considered the best of the clans,” you begin. “The best out of all the others.”

“Damn straight.” He mutters out still looking like a blissful lothcat against your hand.

You hold back a chuckle that still manages to trickle your lips.

“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” You reassure him. “You’re a natural and the best for a reason.”

But you also realize that yes, even though he said he wants to do this, this does not have to be done right now.

“Plus, there’s no rush…We can wait whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait as long as you need.” You repeat the same words he told you, feel their weight and devotion, patience and love, weave deep into your bones.

You even feel a smile tug your lips.

Hazily, almost sleepily, his eyes halfway open to stare out at you with such an intense warmth you feel as if you are staring into his heart's core.

He’s so unbearably gorgeous you almost can’t stand it.

Then without any warning, Katsuki leans forward and presses his lips against yours.

The surprise of him acting so quickly mixes with the surprise of finally getting to kiss him that you wonder if your heart is going to give out from the rush of emotions. But then your mind melts to simply solidify into this moment.

You’re kissing him, your husband, your mandalorian. You’re kissing Katsuki.

His lips are so soft, warm and the faintest smell of his herbal soap suddenly fills your senses.

Slowly his lips begin to pull back ever the slightest before you jump back at him with the same energy of acting without hesitation.

Your eyes close as pure bliss fills you to the brim.

Your lips meet his once, twice in sweet simple kisses but each time he presses closer and closer to you.

Katsuki’s lips now chase yours as if to ask for another kiss every time as if he wants to slowly kiss you again and again until he can’t any more.

You almost want to snicker, but you believe if you do your secretly tender hearted husband might storm away in embarrassment. But it’s not out of humor why you want to laugh. It’s out of a giddiness you can’t describe.

Until you realize the giddiness is simply love.

It is a love stitched into your bones and so overjoyed to finally be free, to finally be in this moment with the man with crimson sunset eyes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You came to Tatooine with Todoroki and his scavenger. You now would be leaving the planet with your husband.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just come back with us?” Shouto asks with the most intense sincerity in his dual colored eyes. He stares so directly into you wanting to gauge if you give him a secret sign saying otherwise.

“My ex jedi is coming home with me!” Bakugo barks back angrily at Shouto who ignores him flat out.

You laugh and even the scavenger who you now feel is slowly actually becoming a friend, laughs too.

You can’t thank this pair enough for what they have done for you. They gave you shelter when you were lost and aimless and a home when you had nowhere go. They became almost your strongest support system besides Monoma. Your heart would hold them tight together.

And when you bid them goodbye you hug the two of them just as right. You vow to contact them when you return to Mandalore.

Just because you are married now did not mean you would abandon any of your friends or the task of finding who attacked the temple.

As you watch them take a speeder bike to head out to the other city here on Tatooine you say a silent blessing to the force to keep them safe.

“When we get back home,” Katsuki mutters. “We’ll start figuring out what leads we can track.”

Seems like you would not be alone in your search.

Then the word hits you gently.

Home.

Mandalore would be your new home. Or mainly, Katsuki is your new home now.

Overwhelmed with emotions you turn back to stare at your husband.

Katsuki wears his helmet now but you can so clearly picture his handsome face composed with determination. You even itch to lean forward to just kiss the side of his curved helmet cheek. Instead you playfully nudge your armored husband who stiffens at your playful action. Then he nudges you back harder.

You snicker amused at how childish he can be.

“Damn weirdo.” He even mumbles out annoyed.

But his fingers continue to brush against yours as if to simply chase after your presence or simply remind him

how close you are.

The markets once again liven up the streets of Mos Eisely. You wanted to do one final look through the shops and vendors before your trip back. You even mention finding something for Monoma, specifically maybe that satchel he hinted about wanting.

“Fuck you and him are gonna be damn headaches together.” Katsuki even sounds as if the thought stabbed his side.

“Oh hush.” You chide him gently as you scan the market place.

That’s when you spot the familiar jewelry stand. The same elderly twi’lek woman is there working. Her eyes grow wide seeing you and then they eagerly flicker to the mandalorian with you.

Naturally you walk back to the stall.

“I’m thinking you might need that necklace now huh?” She grins wide and your face heats up.

“I was worried when I saw him chase after you but I should’ve known it was a lovers quarrel.” She adds and the thought of her being worried is endearing.

“Ha?” Your mandalorian asks so rudely and you lightly shush him as you buy the necklace.

The sweet elderly twi’lek giggles the entire time. Especially when Bakugou swoops in to hand the vendor credits.

“I could’ve paid for it.” You huff.

“No, cause that’s my job now.” He bluntly tells you like it’s the most obvious thing in this galaxy and you don’t even want to argue with him.

“Besides, s’nice.” He admires low, only for your ears.

“It’s an engagement pendant.” You explain. You even add how you’re just holding on to it until you can give it to him later.

“To mark our engagement and all that.” You casually and a bit cheekily say.

“We’re married!” He snaps back insulted and horrified that you’d even make the mistake of even forgetting.

“Oh you’re married?!” You’re not that far from the stall for the vendor to catch that. Or it could be that Katsuki is just that loud.

Either way you and him turn back to her. Her warm eyes shine with excitement.

You sleepy grin back to her. “So he says.”

“We are!” Your poor husband cries back furious.

You think this is it. This is the true blessing of getting to be married to this mandalorian for the rest of your life and that is getting to tease and annoy him.

You can’t help but snort. Then the rush of footsteps on the sandy gravel come towards you. When you and Katsuki turn back your dear vendor approaches with something in hand.

“Here, the companion piece!” She warmly hands you the twin of your necklace.

“Once someone gets married the spouse is meant to come back to retrieve the matching necklace so that the two are now together forever.”

It’s a sweet tradition and you happily hold the two necklaces together as you ask how much for both.

“Oh no young one, it’s fine.” The vendor waves you off warmly. “Think of it as a wedding gift from me and the city.”

You’re overwhelmed by the gesture, the pure genuine sweetness of it and the force even dances beautifully in the air.

“You’re too kind please let us-”

Before you can finish Katsuki moves beside you and places down two solid gold credits on the stall’s counter. That’s triple the amount that you paid and you’re pleased at your husband’s action.

The vendor exclaims in huttese and almost looks petrified seeing the money on her stand. She tries to sputter out something but you simply give her a warm thankful nod.

“Think of it as our thank you for the gift.” You tell her earnestly and even Katsuki beside you nods in quiet agreement.

With her heartfelt thanks you find yourself already walking back to the ship. Monoma’s satchel would have to wait for another day. Your eyes are focused on the two necklaces sitting in your grasp.

“I’m counting this as my wedding gift to you.” You say matter of factly to your husband.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup, deal with it.”

He chuckles low at your reply.

“Moron.” Is all he says but you hear the truth happily buried beneath it.

Thank you, it’s wonderful. I'll cherish it forever…

You glance down again to look at the two necklaces with a fondness before you move to place them in your bag

“You’ll get your gift when we get back home.”

Then his words almost make you trip and drop your precious jewelry pieces.

“What wedding gift?” You ask again as worry leaks into your voice.

Even with the helmet on you know he’s staring dryly at you.

“What? You can get me somethin’ and I can’t get you shit?”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You reply back huffy.

He stays quiet.

“What did you get me?”

Again he stays silent and doesn’t answer.

“Katsuki.” You hiss out and you believe this ridiculous mandalorian is now grinning at you victorious.

“It’s meant to be a surprise, shitty Jedi!” He barks back and you’re too wrapped up in this conversation to even correct him.

“Shit…thinking about it, it won’t be a surprise when you gotta get measured.” He mutters mainly to himself as if he realized this fact.

The words stop you dead in your tracks.

You stare at him a bit petrified and confused. So all you can do is ask him again, low and even a bit serious about what he got you.

You’re thankful to have made it to the edge of the market and it is mainly vacant.

Because your spirit leaves you the moment you see Katsuki move to tap at his beskar shoulder pauldron.

And it clicks.

Armor.

He means to give you beskar armor.

#I am… seriously so nervous about posting this I’m not even joking 🤡#what’s keeping me solid is knowing that about five people will read this and that’s what matters #across the stars: mandalorian bakugo #mandalorian bakugo or aka erika stop talking about Star Wars #in a galaxy far far away: a sw mha universe #Katsuki 🧡

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sunnydazeofyore · 3 months

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Butterflies at Twilight [Honkai Star Rail Fanfiction]

Stelle and Firefly stood shoulder to shoulder on the rooftop in the dreamscape, watching shooting stars pass by like distant wishes in the perpetual twilight of the Golden Hour. No more words needed to pass between them in the comfortable silence, their pinkies a breath apart that could be broken in an instant. With Robin’s yearning song echoing in the background, the Trailblazer was trying to not be so conscious of the girl by her side. Firefly had this innocent beauty to her that was reminiscent of a childhood friend who you had just realized had grown into a gorgeous young woman. Of course, it was not as if Stelle could understand what a childhood friend actually was, nor could really anyone on the Express help elucidate that for her. So she was trapped, floundering alone in these budding feelings as her sideways staring was met with the other girl's twilight eyes.

"Is something the matter?" the younger girl shyly asked, brushing aside her cloudy bangs and fidgeting slightly with the tips. "You've been quiet for a while, do you not like it here?"

Stelle shook her head vigorously and protested, "Nonono, I love it out here. I just. I've not seen anything like this and I was taking it all in and..." Fishing for excuses to mask her yearning thoughts, she scratched the back of her head and gave an awkward smile.

It seemed to be enough, as Firefly smiled back warmly. "I'm so glad that I got to show you this spot. I agree, there's really nothing else like this." With that she turned to gaze upon the theater in the distance, that warm smile still firmly upon her lips. Her lips... Stelle couldn't help but stare at them, how soft and inviting they suddenly looked. Heat crept onto her cheeks without warning, prompting her to rip away her hungering eyes. While Stelle had checked out and even yearned for other women in the recent weeks of being a Trailblazer, there was something different about the fluttering in her stomach now. Was this too soon and too sudden? Is this love at first sight? She brought up her hand to her mouth and absent mindedly tapped her index finger against her own lips, suddenly deep in thought about this conundrum...though perhaps the thinking could wait. Stelle was a woman of action, after all! However, the galactic baseballer didn't have an easy target to swing her bat at to pave the way forward. So, she had to consult the next best thing: What would March do in this situation?

"Do you want to take a picture?" Stelle blurted out, startling her poor companion, who let out a noise like a small kitten. "Cutecutecutecute" rang out the thoughts in the Trailblazer's head as she continued, "Sorry, I just really thought it would be good to take one to remember this moment and...yeah." she awkwardly finished, again rubbing the back of her head.

Firefly regained her composure, giggling at her new friend's desperate attempt to connect. Clasping her hands together, she replied softly, "I think that's a wonderful idea! I've never actually taken a picture here, despite how many times I've come here. How funny is that?" she giggled again, Stelle freezing at this adorable creature's every mannerism. "I'd be honored to commemorate this moment with a selfie with you."

The gray haired girl's nonexistent tail was wagging at full force by this point, beaming as she scrambled for her phone. After setting up the front facing camera, she made a peace sign with her other hand. "Okay, scooch in and we'll..." Stelle started, her breath catching as Firefly did so, the two's shoulders touching and causing her poor heart to nearly explode on the spot. Okay, she was really down bad for this girl. If only she'd gotten more advice from March, or even Himeko, about what to do here, she wouldn’t be such a mess at this critical moment.

The twilight-eyed girl turned up to look at Stelle, still smiling warmly. "Are you ready?" Stelle gulped and nodded, trying to put on a natural smile as the two made matching peace signs and she clicked down on the shutter. An eternal moment caught in a camera's lens in the midst of a dream, it almost felt like a miracle to Stelle as she reviewed it. Firefly was still shoulder to shoulder with her, beaming happily. "Ah, you caught a shooting star! Did you happen to-" she turned to the Trailblazer as she noticed this fortuitous detail, only for her mind to see shooting stars as Stelle pressed their lips together.

Stelle, for her part, felt her mind go completely blank as her heart exploded into fireworks. Firefly's lips were just as soft as they looked, and was kissing supposed to feel this good? It felt like cotton candy and marshmallows and everything saccharine sweet and pillowy at once. After a moment she retreated, suddenly aware of what she'd done. "I, um, well, I just- that is..." she started stuttering out the start of several half apologies and excuses as her face flushed crimson. Firefly herself was in a state of shock, reaching up to her lips with a blank stare into the night. When realization caught up with her, her face exploded with heat and she squeaked as she buried her face in her hands, crouching down onto the rooftop and hiding away from Stelle.

"Ah, Firefly, I'm so sorry I just-" Stelle stammered out and kneeled next to her friend. She wasn't recognizing the situation for what it was, feeling her heart sink icily into her stomach. She tried desperately to find the words to fix this and see that warm smile again.

"...-rst." murmured out the cloudy haired girl.

"...huh?" inquired Stelle, the brakes being put on now in her racing mind.

"That was my first kiss" whispered Firefly, now turning up her head to face Stelle, their flushed gazes meeting again after those agonizing moments. "...and it was...really nice..." She continued in the softest tone Stelle had ever heard, reaching out to clasp Stelle's pinky with her own. The two would continue to sit in flustered silence for a while longer, while the false stars above twinkled on.

#honkai star rail #fanfic #firefly #stelle #trailblazer #spoilers #yuri #hsr #hsr fanfic #stelle x firefly #penacony #wlw fanfic #wlw #my fics

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tilebytiles · 2 months

Text

Star Treatment (Alex Turner x Reader) - Part 5

summary: there’s a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: none

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Your time on the moon was almost over.

With the close of your galactic journey came a bittersweet feeling; you’d had a lot of fun at the hotel. Although you neglected the casino aspect (you’d never been much of a gambler and didn’t intend to start), you took multiple dips in the pool, perused the library countless times, and even ventured into the gym once or twice. The fitness jungle was intimidating, so you only really used the treadmill, but it was still something. You’d gotten to talk to Alexa and Miles a lot more, and they both agreed to keep in touch with you once you were all back on Earth.

The person you’d miss the most, though, was Alex.

You hadn’t seen much of him over the last few days, despite your stay being extended; James had been sent back to Earth prematurely, and a round trip for the rocket was at least six days, so you were more or less stuck up there until further notice. Although Alex’s glances towards you had become more tender, his touches more like caresses, his words spoken in a soft tone he didn’t use with anyone else, you hadn’t spoken much to each other since your impromptu sleepover. You were hesitant to ask him about it; you yearned for his attention, but you also understood how it might look if he was suddenly doting on you every hour of every day. You’d be proving James right, more or less. You would rather step out the airlock than do that.

You also knew talking to each other once you got back home wouldn’t really be an option; he told you once that he’d open the hotel to the public within the next month, meaning his attention would be entirely consumed by his project. You would return to your regular job, and he would remain an unfinished canvas, a story never to be completed. Would he even come to the café anymore? Would he want anything to do with you?

"What's got you all worked up?" You jumped at the sound of Miles' voice and whipped around. He was leaning against the doorway of your room, his arms crossed over his chest and his left eyebrow cocked up.

Your own eyebrow rose at his question. "I'm not worked up. I'm just standing here."

"You get worked up in your own ways," he said with a shrug. "You tend to zone out. In this case, I've been here for nearly three minutes trying to get your attention, and you've just been starin' at the clothes you've got on the bed."

You cringed at the mental image his words painted in your head. "Sorry. I'm just thinking."

"About what?" When you didn't answer and instead looked back down at the clothes- the tee, joggers and socks you hadn't worked up the courage to give back to Alex yet- realisation seemed to hit Miles like a truck. "Oh. About Al?"

Miles was the only one that had approached you directly about whether or not there was anything between you and Alex. Alexa had taken a more subtle approach, nudging you with her elbow and winking whenever Alex smiled at you in passing, but Miles had been much more direct, his curiosity regarding your relationship coming in the form of an abrupt "Are you shaggin' him?" over lunch one day. You told him no repeatedly, probably so much so that it could be read as yes. You didn't dare allude to what had really happened between the two of you, but you were honest with him in admitting there was something there. Something you both felt.

"Why don't you just talk to him?" His words dragged you back to the present.

You sighed. "I wish it was that easy," you mumbled. "But what am I supposed to say? For all I know, I might just be some fling of his."

Miles barked out a laugh at that. "You're kiddin', right? He's bloody obsessed with you."

"He could just be playing it up."

"Y/N," he said, his voice taking on a much more serious tone, "if Alex was fuckin' around with you this whole time, I would seriously harm him. That's a major 'if', though. I've never known him to be that kind of person, and neither has Alexa. He isn't the type to toy with someone else's feelings."

A voice rang out from somewhere down the hall. "Hey, Miles, have you seen my camera?" It was Alexa.

Miles sighed and offered you one final sympathetic glance. "I mean it," he said softly. "Right now, I doubt you're the last person he'd think of leavin' behind." And with that, he left your room, shouting down the hall about how he hadn't seen Alexa's "bloody fuckin' camera".

You looked back down on the clothes you'd neatly laid out on top of the bed. You'd been planning to give them back that day, actually, but every time you finally worked up the courage to do it, you quickly convinced yourself it would be a bad idea. You hated how insecure you suddenly felt; you were positive that even if Alex was obsessed with you, someone better would come along. Someone more deserving of his obsession and unwavering affection. The more desperate side of you wanted to believe Miles, but the more rational side of you knew that whatever existed between you and Alex right now would be gone as soon as you set foot back on Earth and returned to your routine lives.

Your time on the moon was almost over, and you hated it.

•••••

Miles had delivered the clothes in your stead. Now that they were finally out of sight, out of mind, you found yourself laying face-up in the pool, staring at the vast expanse of stars above you. The water was cold, uncomfortably so, but you didn't care; you just needed to think. You needed something else to focus on, something that wasn't the man with the heavenly Northern accent and the well-kept goatee and the shoulder-length hair that was always an elegant mess and the crisp suits and the smile that could charm God. You felt a little pathetic, if you were being honest with yourself- this time, you didn't do that as reluctantly. Maybe self-degradation came to you a little too naturally. Technically, you'd known Alex for months, but it was mostly his existence you knew of, not who he really was. Well, that and his favourite kind of coffee. Still, that didn't really tell you much about the kind of person he was. Knowing he liked his coffee burning hot didn't tell you his favourite colour or favourite food. Knowing his surprising disdain for pumpkin spice lattes didn't tell you his favourite book or his hobbies. Knowing the only pastry in the display case that he ever ordered (on the rare occasion he did order something besides coffee) was the pain au chocolat didn't tell you his middle name, his hometown, his favourite music, his dreams as a child, the things he was nitpicky about, his favourite animal, his greatest fear, how he wanted his body to be dealt with when he died, or whether or not he'd seen Blade Runner.

You would be lying if you said you hadn't imagined his response to all of those things before. You guessed his favourite colour might have been something like orange or yellow. His favourite food was something savoury, no doubt; he never struck you as the type to have much of a sweet tooth. His favourite book was definitely one of the classics. His hobbies had to be reading (that was an easy one), perhaps writing, maybe even playing an instrument. His middle name was something prim and proper, his hometown was somewhere like Newcastle, his favourite music was the oldies, his dreams as a child were to be an astronaut in space, he was nitpicky about his appearance and having everything in perfect order, his favourite animal was something predictable like a dog, his greatest fear was being forgotten, he wanted to be cremated upon death, and he had most certainly seen Blade Runner and would consider it criminal for anyone else not to have. Those were all just guesses, though, and you knew some of them were probably painfully inaccurate. But you didn't think you would ever get the answers.

Somewhere nearby, you heard a door open and then close, and for a brief moment, it dragged you out of the monotonous trance you'd placed yourself in. You quickly slipped back into your lull, though, continuing to stargaze and letting the water around you prick at your skin, giving you goosebumps. You didn't notice the door to the changing room shut, nor did you notice the small splash that accompanied the unidentified individual lowering themselves into the water. You were beginning to think you were perfectly content with staying in that pool forever when the water around you began to rock and bob, bouncing you with it. A figure came into your periphery, and the small glimpse you got made you turn your head, water instantly flooding into your right ear. Alex was wading beside you, casting small ripples into the pool water as he stroked his arms across the surface, keeping himself afloat. You slowly turned your head back to its previous position, feeling the water dribble out of your ear as you continued stargazing.

He was the first to speak, and you hated how your heart lurched at the sound of his voice, as if it would burst from your chest and wait for him to take it. "You've been avoiding me."

His voice remained neutral, but the underlying hurt in his words was glaringly obvious. "I wasn't trying to," you said quietly. "There just haven't been chances for us to talk."

"That's bullshit, Y/N, and you know it."

You shifted and struggled in the water for just a moment before assuming the same wading position he was in. For a few seconds, ones that suddenly felt uncomfortably long, all you could do was stare at him. His expression was neutral, too, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. They always had. You were reminded of the quote about the eye being the window to the soul. "I'm sorry," you finally said.

He let out a small scoff and looked down at the water between you. "At least tell me why."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll think it's stupid."

"What's stupid is thinking I'll think it's stupid." His gaze darted back up to meet yours, and you could tell he was having a difficult time keeping himself contained. You were reminded of the look of anger he'd had the night of the party, and how horribly it contrasted with his features. You didn't think he was built to be angry, and you hated the thought you were making him feel anything close to that.

You sighed and tilted your head back to look up at the stars again. Not looking him directly in the eye made it easier to confess what had been weighing you down so much recently. "I'm scared you'll forget me, Alex."

Silence followed, then, "What?"

"You're going to get famous because of this hotel. You have to know that. You won't have time for me anymore, which is fine because I'm just the girl that made your coffee, anyway. Even if you did have time, there's a chance some other girl will come along that's way better than me in every aspect. She'll be prettier, nicer, more successful, more important. I won't even be jealous of her, because I'll know she'll be far more deserving of you attention than I am. You'll fall in love with her and forget about me and I'll force myself to move on and maybe, eventually, I'll fall in love with someone else, too."

More silence punctuated your words, but this time, Alex didn't fill it with objections or utterances of confusion. Although you were staring up into space, from the very bottom of your line of sight, you could tell he was still staring at you. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, as if he was struggling to think of exactly what to say. You didn't blame him; how could you? You'd just dumped an absolute boatload on him.

It felt like an eternity had passed before he tried to form an answer for you. “I could never forget you, even if I wanted to.”

Slowly, your head lowered again, and you stared at him, unsure of what to say in response. Now it was your turn to be stunned into silence. You looked off to the side, then at the edge of the pool behind him, then back at him. “Why?”

He sighed and ran a wet hand through his hair. “The first time I saw you,” he began slowly, “I was ready to worship the ground you stood on. You might think yourself to be plain, Y/N, but in less than a few weeks, you became my whole world, only leaving enough space for …” He gestured around the two of you, his eyes widening a bit, much as they always did when he wanted to emphasise something.

Your brows knitted together at his confession. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I was well aware I’d sound mental,” he said bluntly, dropping his arms back into the water with a small splash. “Because I knew you’d think I was a creep. I was obsessed, and I felt guilty for that, even if I wasn’t tryin’ to stalk you or anything.”

You considered his words. Although you wanted to deny it to make him feel better, you knew he was right; you probably would’ve told your manager if one of the customers tried to confess his undying love to you. “But …” You trailed off, trying to think of what to say next. Your gaze dropped to the water again. “Who’s to say you still feel that way, now that you know me?”

He let out a short laugh. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. You’re quite stubborn, aren’t you?” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “When I told you how I felt the night of the party, I meant it,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t lying to you or trying to comfort you. I’ve always had feelings for you, and as far as I’m concerned, I always will. Nothing will change that.”

You didn’t say anything and looked away a little shamefully. You felt a bit silly for being so doubtful up to this point; it was clear Alex liked you, a lot. He called it an obsession, but you didn’t know if it really was as dramatic as he was making it out to be or if he was so inexperienced that having feelings for anyone qualified as being madly in love. Then again, he’d never struck you as the inexperienced type … quite the opposite, really, especially when you considered the ease with which he’d eaten you out.

Alex seemed to pick up on your remorse. He let out another sigh before saying, “Let’s get out of here, yeah? I don’t know about you, but I’m fuckin’ freezing.”

The two of you clambered out of the pool, heading into one of the changing rooms to dry off as best you could and wrapping yourselves up in robes. You’d have to shower later, you thought to yourself. You wondered if you could shower with Alex, and the mere thought tinted your cheeks a light shade of pink. Although you didn’t vocalise any of your thoughts, he seemed to be thinking the same thing as you, for he entwined his hand with yours and said, “Shall we go to my room?” All you could do was nod.

Inside his room, things were the same as they’d been the last time you were in there. You followed him into the bathroom, watching as he gently shut and locked the door before turning to face you. He offered you a small smile, a gesture that made you feel comfortable enough to shed your robe and strip out of your bikini. He followed suit, letting his robe and his swim trunks hit the floor in a circle of damp fabric around him. You refused to let your gaze wander to any part of his body that wasn’t his face, and at the sheer effort that seemed to take on your part, he couldn’t help but laugh.

One of the things that scared you the most about taking a shower with another person was the possibilities. As Alex turned on the water and tested it a couple of times, making sure it was warm enough before stepping inside with you following suit, your mind immediately jumped to the possibility of Alex rearranging your insides against the shower wall. Did that idea come into your head a bit too eagerly? Yes. Were you embarrassed by it? 100%. Would you ever tell Alex you had that idea? Fuck no. Were you a little scared of it happening because Alex was the only man that had ever touched you and you weren’t even sure if you’d like having sex? Absolutely.

To your surprise (and perhaps relief), though, nothing of the sort happened. Alex let you shampoo his hair first, letting out small sounds of contentment as you massaged his scalp. You worked slowly, not wanting this moment between the two of you to end anytime soon. Once his hair was adequately shampooed, he washed the suds out of his hair, then grabbed the bottle off the shelf and squeezed some into his hand. He snapped it shut on his wrist, set it back down, then began massaging the apple-scented shampoo into your own hair. You didn’t have to lean down like he did, considering you were shorter than him and he could access your scalp much easier than you could his.

You two had been in a rather comfortable silence, and he was the first to break it, although not jarringly so. “D’you like cookies?”

A small laugh erupted from you. “Who doesn’t?”

“Fair point,” he mumbled. “I was just askin’ because the café made too many yesterday, and I was gonna steal some for you.”

“Well, what kind are they?”

“Chocolate chip. Close your eyes.” Alex seized the shower head, and you quickly did as you were told, feeling the water and shampoo rush down against your head. Every so often, the water would hit your hairline, and it tickled. As he worked, he continued talking, although the torrent made it a bit harder to hear him. “I might steal a dozen, then we can split ‘em.”

When he finally pulled the shower head away from you, you reached up to dry your eyes. “Bold of you to assume I would share.”

“Ah, well …” He looked off to the side, then back down at you, his hands settling on his hips. “You’re talking to the hotel owner, so I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

“It’s a bit cruel of you to use your position against me.”

He merely hummed in response, unable to hide the smile your words generated, and grabbed the bottle of conditioner.

The rest of the shower went smoothly, and you were a little sad when it ended. It was, arguably, the most intimate you’d ever gotten with him. You two had helped each other wash, and gradually, you became less shy about touching each other. It made you realise something; you’d been viewing this kind of physical contact as sexual for an embarrassingly long time, but now that it was happening, it wasn’t sexual at all. You regretted the lewd circumstances your mind had tried to frame a shared shower in.

You’d gotten dressed following your shower, and now you found yourself back in Alex’s bed. This time, he was laying with his cheek pressed against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat. On occasion, his fingers would begin to tap out the rhythm against your sides, although they’d stop a few seconds later. Your own fingers worked absentmindedly through his hair, and at some point, you’d begun to work on a small braid. You didn’t think he could feel it; if he did, he didn’t say anything. It would be amusing to see him discover it later.

His voice was a low rumble, and you got the idea he was more tired than he let on. “Thank you.”

Your fingers halted their movements. “For what?”

“For existing.”

Those two words made you want to cry, and you had to force yourself to blink back tears. You worked more urgently on his braid, trying to keep yourself distracted, but this meant he could feel you tugging at his hair now. His head lifted from your chest, and his expression softened into one of understanding as he shifted his body upwards and pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, catching tears that weren’t there. “I mean it,” he murmured. “And … thank you for giving me a chance.”

That brought out the waterworks, and the tears, hot and heavy, poured from your eyes before you could stop them. His hands left your sides and came up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and then your lips, lingering there longer than the rest. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “Stay with me.”

Your eyes widened a little. “What?”

“Stay with me,” he repeated. “Help me manage the hotel. Or … hell, if you don’t want a thing to do with this, I understand, just-” He sighed and screwed his eyes shut. “Stay in my life,” he whispered. “Please.”

He didn’t have to ask that of you. The answer would always be yes. In a million universes, a million more lifetimes, the endless aisles of circumstances that were lined up neatly in the library of what could have been, you would always follow him. Maybe in one world, you would meet as a biker / florist duo. In another, he’d be a dazzling musician, and you’d be an awestruck photographer. In another, he might be a damn vampire, trying to navigate the world without being killed and while shunning the daylight and wearing sunglasses positively everywhere. He could be some eldritch horror, and you would still follow him to the ends of the earth. You knew that even if you were under a horribly strong curse, he would always find a way to break it. He would always find a way to make sure you could follow him. “Of course I will,” you whispered in reply. “Always.”

His eyes slowly peeled open, and he managed a soft smile at you, kissing you once more. “The day after you stole my heart,” he murmured against your lips, “everything I touched told me it’d be better shared with you.”

•••••

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @not-a-big-slay

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #tranquility base hotel and casino #tbhc era #arctic monkeys #fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n

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dameronscopilot · 2 years

Note

It’s not Saturday in my time zone but I’m ✨ pretending ✨

Would you be willing to do some Cassian forbidden relationship head canons? I want to see him yearn.

I really enjoy your writing and Cassian is under appreciated 😭

Honestly, I'm here for any and all Sleepover Saturday inquiries, thots, and comments any day of week. Keep 'em coming<3 (& as a side note for headcanon requests, i have Jealous Cassian + Husband Poe Dameron in the works as well!) Anyway, hoo boy, the SOUND that came out of my mouth when I read this 😂. I'm so glad you asked, because my brain immediately went into overdrive. And thank you for enjoying my work!

I'm clearly incapable of not going overboard with these things! But hey, here we go:

Cassian Andor - Forbidden Relationship

Cassian Andor x Imperial Officer!reader

When you enlisted in the Imperial Military, the decision was made solely out of your innate need to survive. Your family’s extensive ties to the Galactic Empire made it virtually impossible for you to escape a life raised under their fascist ideals.

As the years went on, you worked your way up to the rank of a captain, and you lost far too much of yourself along the way. You became complacent to the horrors of the Empire.

Everything changes the day that a roguishly handsome new lieutenant is assigned to your unit.

It’s purely by chance that you catch the lieutenant when he’s covertly attempting to send a transmission to the Rebel Alliance one evening. Prior to that, he’d given you no reason to be suspicious of him. You were certainly intrigued by him, but you’d had no doubts about his supposed loyalty to the Empire’s cause.

He’s like a feral, cornered animal when you catch him, and you’re half certain that he’s on the verge of singlehandedly blasting his way off of the Star Destroyer. While your instinct is to immediately apprehend him for his crimes against the Empire, a small voice in your head—one that’s been left forgotten for many, many years—halts your hand’s path to the blaster holstered at your hip. You suddenly feel more awake than you have in a very long time. Your help could be crucial to the Alliance’s cause. You could help destroy this wretched place from within.

He’s suspicious of your intentions at first, which is to be expected. But when you eventually funnel the spy enough valuable information pilfered from the Empire to convince him otherwise, he finally offers you his name—Cassian Andor.

Somewhere along the way, Cassian begins to worry about your safety as the two of you secretly work side-by-side—captain and lieutenant by day, purveyors of Imperial secrets by night.

Cassian Andor doesn’t form attachments. He really fucking doesn’t. He can’t. It’s too dangerous. But thoughts of the embers of hope his words awaken in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips keep him awake at night in the confines of his sterile, modest quarters on the ship.

He tries so fucking hard to ignore the heat that licks through his veins whenever you meet his gaze (and his complete and total inability to break eye contact with you first).

Cassian Andor has never been a weak man, not once in his entire life. That is, until he met you.

He knows that the complicated, all-consuming feelings that he's developed for you in the months that you've been working together are more dangerous than any suicide mission he's ever gone on as a Rebel spy. And yet despite all of his training and every single fiber of his being screaming for him to fucking focus on the mission, he can't. He doesn't.

After carefully making his way through the ship unseen, he arrives at your quarters one night with the intention of discussing the logistics of his upcoming escape. The thought of leaving you behind has left him pathetically retching over the fresher more than once, but it must be done. Both of you know it.

All of Cassian's carefully laid plans and practiced words of avoidance blow up in his goddamn face when the door to your quarters slides open, and you stand there tiredly rubbing at your eyes. He's never seen you without the cap that's an integral part of your uniform, and his heart traitorously stutters in his chest at the odd intimacy of it all. He's not sure if he wants to laugh or cry that the sight of your hair has nearly sent him to his knees.

Cassian tosses everything to the damn wind and, against his better judgement, asks you to come with him.

Perhaps it's the undeniable fear of the unknown written all over your face mixed with the brief spark of hope that flares in your eyes, warring with your uncertainty. Or maybe it's the way your gaze flicks to his lips for the briefest of moments after he asks. Whatever it is, something compels him to slowly crowd you against the wall.

"We shouldn't do this," you remark, your voice wavering. And he chuckles darkly at the irony of it all. That for all that he's left his heart tucked away and forgotten for years on end in the midst of this endless battle against tyrants, he’s suddenly no longer able to ignore how fucking loudly and desperately it now beats in your presence.

"We shouldn't," he agrees, his voice a hoarse whisper as he cups your face and leans in, brushing his lips against yours.

You really shouldn't. But as he deepens the kiss, as you run your hands through his hair, as his hands grip your waist, as your fingers fumble with the buttons on his uniform, as he slowly backs you up across the room until your knees hit the edge of your mattress—Cassian can't bring himself to care.

---

More Cassian:

Jealous Cassian Andor

Jealous Cassian Andor (NSFW) 🌶️

#Cassian Andor #Andor #Rogue One #Star Wars fanfiction #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars headcanons #Cassian Andor fanfiction #Diego Luna fanfiction #Cassian Andor headcanons #Cassian Andor imagines #Cassian Andor x reader

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am-i-obsessed---maybe · 2 years

Note

Hello

Can I please request a mando( din djarin ) x male reader fic

A male reader who used to be a medic and tends to dins wounds and din confesses that he loves him

Hell ya! First Star Wars Request!

If you wanna request something go ahead though it might take me a bit

(Also I love this idea so much)

Word Count: 2.3k

Main Masterlist

I tried to describe the reader's body as little as possible so it's accessible to more people :)

To The Outer Rim And Back

For the last five years your life had been a mess.

For years your only goal was to destroy the empire and now that the empire was no more you had no idea what to do.

You'd been a field medic in the rebellion, you'd never thought about what you'd do once the empire was actually gone but here you were. Both deathstars were destroyed, the emperor was dead, a new galactic republic was established and you had to figure out what to do with your life.

You traveled for a time, seeing the sights and exploring the galaxy on your own terms for the first time in your life.

You even helped establish a few free medbay clinics in the outer rim with the help of the new republic but it wasn't the same. you still yearned for adventure. The adrenaline rush of a fight is something you almost felt ashamed of missing, after all you fought to bring peace back to the galaxy.

Although things weren't all bad, your clinics were the reason you first met Din. Although you didn't know his name then.

He came into your clinic on Nevarro because what you assumed was his foster son- Grogu was acting off.

He immediately stood out with is mandalorian armour among the uniformed staff and dully dressed villagers.

One of the nurses you'd trained- Alma- tried to help him but she was out of her depth and had no idea what to do so she came to get you.

You put on a fresh pair of gloves and smiled at Grogu.

"Hello there little guy" You told him as you approached him and he cooed.

"What seems to be the problem?" You asked the nervous man, you couldn't read his expressions through his helmet but you weren't the least bit intimidated.

That was the first thing he noticed about you. Your confidence never waivered. Most people were terrified to see him for the first time (including the nurse who'd tried to help him earlier) but not you.

"He hasn't been feeling well, he's not eating as much as he normally does" He said and you nodded asking Grogu to open his mouth so you could examine his throat.

"Well I've never seen a being like him but the computer should be able to identify the problem, he doesn't seem violently sick so it's probably just a stomach bug" You told the mandalorian calmly as you scanned Grogu.

"Well it's not a bug" You told him while looking at the results of the scan on your data pad.

"Is it worse?" He asked and you laughed. He decided he liked your laugh.

"No, he probably ate something that didn't sit right with him- didn't you little one" You said, turning to Grogu and petting him.

"Developmentally he's a toddler and most species have a stage where they put practically anything they can get your hands on in their mouths" You explained and the mandalorian nodded.

"But besides that he's perfectly healthy, you should be proud" You told him and you couldn't see his smile from under his helmet but it was there.

"I am" He told you.

"It'll probably pass on it's own in a few days, if it doesn't come back here and ask for Y/N L/N" You told him.

"Who's that?" He asked and you chuckled. He liked when you did that.

"That's my name" You told him as you handed him your data pad.

"Now just sign here please so we can log this visit in our system Mr. Mandalorian" You said and he nodded.

As he walked out with Grogu in his arms as the child played with the small toy you gave young kids after their appointments at the clinic.

you looked down at the data pad he signed. You weren't expecting him to write his actual name there, after all he didn't even take his helmet off to talk to you but you smiled when you saw he wrote Din Djarin. You had no way of knowing if it was his real name but it was good enough for you.

Several days later he came back to tell you Grogu was feeling much better but when he came into the clinic you were nowhere in sight. One of your colleagues pointed him in the direction of an office in the back of the clinic when he asked for you.

He carefully opened the door and was surprised to see you applying bacta spray to an area on your stomach. He stayed still in the doorway, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment but he couldn't look away.

You were shirtless sitting on a cot in the side of the room and he could see a plethora of healed scars littering your torso.

"You can come in you know" You said, still not looking up from what you were doing.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself before coming in.

"I didn't mean to intrude" He said and you could hear the embarrassment even through his modulated voice.

"Don't worry about it, it's good to see you again Din" You told him, still not looking up from your work. It was the first time you'd addressed him by his name, he liked hearing you say his name.

"How can I help you?" You asked him.

"I uh- I came to say thank you. The kid's feeling a lot better now" He said and you smiled.

"That's great" You told him finally done with your task. You put your shirt back on and looked at him.

"Is that all?" You asked, he was looking at you- you weren't sure why.

"Those scars..." He said, trailing off and you smiled understandingly.

"I was a field medic with the rebellion for a long time" You explained.

"I'm sure you have your fair share as well" You said, trying to steer away the conversation. He nodded.

"I guess I just- You don't seem like a soldier" He said and you smirked.

"What can I say, I'm full of surprises" You joked.

----

Din stopped by quite a few times after that. Sometimes because his allies were injured and sometimes because he himself was (though not often).

You saw him around town besides that and you learned more about him. He told you he was a foundling and you learned more about his creed.

"You know, I've met a few mandalorians before but I've never met one like you" You told him once as you patched up a minor burn he got while he was out on a hunt.

He liked you. A lot. But even more than that he trusted you. And when he found out from Cara that you were leaving he immediately went to talk to you.

"Hey Din-" You greeted him when he came into the clinic but he simply stared you down from behind his helmet.

"You're leaving?" He asked and you sighed.

"Hey Alma! Can you cover me for a few minutes?" You asked one of the other workers as you led Din to your office.

He followed you silently.

"Yes" You finally answered him once you were both inside the room.

"Why?" He asked and you sighed again, sitting down on the cot in your office. A few months ago you would have told him a joke about being a free spirit but you knew him too well not to explain yourself now.

"When we won- and the empire fell, it was the first time in my life that I wasn't fighting. When I was a kid it was the clone wars, then the empire and the rebellion and now- I don't know" You explained, leaning against the wall, your legs crossed on the cot.

"I've never not been fighting, I don't know how to manage it" You told him and looked at him. "I've never stayed in one place so long" You continued.

"If it's the fighting you miss you can come with us" Din finally said and you looked at him, confused.

"You can come with me and the kid, it would be nice to have someone else with us, especially a medic" He explained and you took a moment to think about it.

"You'd let me join you on bounties?" You asked and Din nodded.

"You look like you can make yourself useful" He said and you scoffed.

"Gee thanks" You said. You couldn't see the shift in Din's face but it was there. He didn't mean to offend you.

"That's not what I- I didn't mean" He tried to explain but you laughed.

"It's fine Din, I'd love to" You told him, putting your hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

----

You traveled with him for a while after that and stayed with him after Grogu left with Luke Skywalker to continue his jedi training.

You were camping out on in a forest one day, passing the time until a shuttle would arrive to take you to Din's next job. You loved these calm moments with Din. He was a few feet away from you training with his recently acquired dark saber while you went through the few supplies you had left. Since the Razor Crest was destroyed you had to travel significantly lighter.

Suddenly you heard a hiss and a thud. When you looked up you saw Din was limping back to you with a cut on his thigh.

"Din!" You exclaimed, running over to help him walk.

"I look away for a second" You scold him but stop when he groans.

"Sorry" He says and you sigh and you sit him down and take out a med kit.

"It's fine, you should be more careful, that thing's dangerous" You tell him, referring to the darksaber.

"I'll be fine, you always fix me up just fine" He says and you scoff.

"You're lucky this is just a graze and lightsabers cauterize their cuts on impact" You told him as you applied a bacta spray as well as a numbing cream to lessen the pain.

"I'm serious though, you have to be more careful with that thing. You don't have the training to handle it" You told him as you wrapped his leg.

"That's why I'm training with it, it just gets heavier ever time" He said and you looked through his vizor at this eyes.

"It isn't just a sword Din. It's a lightsaber, they have specific forms and techniques specifically so that you don't accidentally hurt yourself" You told him.

"You're speaking from experience" Din pointed out and you nodded, moving to sit beside him.

"I knew someone who wielded it once" You explained and he looked at you waiting for you to continue.

"Sabine Wren. She was part of the rebellion. She won it in combat from Gar Saxon and I saw her fight with it a few times she was- well she was amazing. The darksaber was practically an extension of herself, but she only got there because she was taught by a jedi" You explained and Din nodded.

"Well I don't have a jedi" Din said and looked at you, he could see you were worried.

"I'll be fine. I have you" He said and you smiled.

"You better be" You told him and smiled. He loved seeing your smile. He's always loved it but since it's been just the two of you it's been different. A good different. He enjoyed this time with you and hoped you did as well.

"Din?" You asked, he was awfully quiet and practically staring at you. You wouldn't have noticed it when you first met but you spent so much time with him by now that you could read him even without seeing his face.

"I'm fine" He said but you looked unconvinced.

"You were staring" You told him. It was moments like these that he was glad for his helmet, he was glad you couldn't see the blush that spread over his cheeks. Unfortunately for him you didn't need to see him blush to know he was embarrassed.

"You've been doing that a lot lately...You like what you see?" You teased and you could practically hear Din sputtering. You chuckled and adjusted yourself against him. You'd already become accustomed to his armour, the harshness of it didn't bother you anymore.

"Yes" He finally says and you smile, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I stare at you sometimes too" You tell him and Din smiled bellow his helmet.

"I know" He says and you smile as well.

"Y/n-" He starts to say and you just nod.

"I know Din" You tell him, knowing exactly what he was going to say. After the months of caring for each other and the being who had become a son to the both of them You knew exactly what Din wanted to express.

He loved you.

Just like you love him. You'd never felt either of you had to say it until know but Grogu no longer being there changed a lot for you both.

"I love you" Din said anyway and you smiled, leaning closer to the bounty hunter who'd wormed his way into your life, who'd helped you feel whole again and loved you even with your strange longing for front line life.

"I've loved you for a long time" He says and you nod once again so he knows you heard him.

"I love you too Din, to the farthest planet in the Outer Rim and back" You told him and he chuckled.

He took your hand in his, guiding your fingers into his as you looked out at the forest. He brought your hand to his face, raising his helmet slightly and kissing your hand.

"To the farthest planet of the Outer Rim and back" He repeated.

#star wars x reader #reader insert #star wars #star wars imagine #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #din djarin x male reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mando #grogu #the child #male reader #star wars x male reader #medic reader

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starlightkun · 1 year

Text

❧ word count: 20.1k

❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of death/dead people but as a moral quandary, definitely more legal jargon than there should be i am so sorry (if it doesn’t make sense then it wasn’t important), oh there’s a short scene with a weirdly graphic depiction of eating fruit sorry if that gives you the ick, it gets very existential and kind of angsty at some points in this one in terms of morality around death and reader’s job

❧ genre: fluff, no literally so fluffy it probably should have been in the warnings actually, established relationship, greek gods/goddesses au, hades jaemin, human reader, nades au, paralegal reader, bit of a ham-fisted persephone allegory, inspired by the gods/goddesses assigned to the work it unit in 2020 for this video, appearances by aphrodite johnny, bestie jeno, coworkers kun and sicheng, and galactic-threat level menace yangyang

❧ extra info: this is the sequel to obsidian black, it cannot be read as a standalone!!!

❧ spotify playlist

⤷ series masterlist

Your fingers were still caressing his cheek, softly, he was still holding you with a hand on your back, and he was beholding you with a yearning that made your heart lurch against your ribcage; and you knew in that moment if you asked him for his own heart he would have reached his hand into his chest and given it to you, the organ still beating and dripping crimson.

“Hi, honey, how was work?”

Jaemin was already in your apartment when you got home that night, sitting in his favorite spot in your armchair, book in hand. As you walked around in front of him, you saw that this time his pick was Dracula by Bram Stoker.

“It was alright, lots of revising briefs,” you stretched your neck out. “And what exactly do you do all day while I’m at work anyway?”

“I do own a business, you know.”

“The Underworld is an LLP?” You joked as you stretched your shoulders next.

“An LLC actually,” he quipped back as he flipped to the next page. “But I meant one on Earth.”

“Glad you’ve got something to keep you busy aside from dead people,” you twisted around to crack your back, letting out a groan when you heard a satisfying pop. “Dinner?”

“I know a place nearby.”

And just under forty-five minutes later you were sat beside Jaemin in a private booth at a nice restaurant, drink in hand and food on the table.

“By ‘know a place’ you meant you had surprise reservations,” you declared, affectionately bumping his knee with yours.

“Maybe so,” he grinned, resting an arm over the back of the booth. “Did it work?”

“Depends, what were you hoping it would do?”

“Oh you know, woo you, make you fall madly in love with me, the usual.”

“Hmm,” you pretended to scrutinize your surroundings. “I guess I’m feeling mildly wooed.”

Jaemin suddenly leaned in, and you watched him, breathless, eagerly awaiting his next move. You always enjoyed your back-and-forth, the seamless way you two went around each other, the mutual pushing and pulling. With him this close you reveled in the smell of cedar, cinnamon, and bergamot wafting around you, drawing you in even closer.

“Well then how…” his arm that had been resting on the back of the booth now wrapped around your shoulders, the fingers of that hand gently gracing over the shell of your ear “…about…” his cool fingertips brushed over the back of your neck, raising goosebumps in their wake to then caress over your other ear, “…now?”

Suppressing a giddy smile, you lifted your own hands to feel at your earlobes. You hadn’t been wearing any earrings when you got to the restaurant, but now you could feel jewelry there.

“And what are these?” You asked as you felt over the smooth gems dangling from your ears.

“Opal.”

Your enamored grin finally took over your face, “Okay, I’m officially wooed. The magically appearing earrings got me. Thank you, Jaemin.”

“Success,” he murmured before giving you a fond peck.

His hand stroked up and down your back as you leaned against him, enjoying the quiet that the private booth afforded you.

“You looked tired when you came home, Y/N,” Jaemin commented, and you could hear the hint of worry coloring his tone. “More tired than just proofing briefs.”

You sighed, reaching for your glass to take a sip of your drink, “It was the content of the briefs. I’m usually pretty ambivalent about the morality of the stuff we do at Kim & Moon. But the one that Ms. Haseul had written on this medical malpractice case…”

Your date didn’t speak as he let you find your words.

“The argument she constructed… it was the first time I genuinely just felt… gross about the work I was doing, and all I was doing was proof-reading the thing! I didn’t even write it! And I know Ms. Haseul doesn’t actually believe in what’s in that brief, it’s just a legal argument, it’s all putting together precedent and logic and interpreting the facts of the case. She doesn’t even think it’ll work; she just has a responsibility to try every avenue she can for her client. But… I don’t know. Someone died in this case, Jaemin.”

“They did?”

“Yeah, and I can’t say for sure whether it was because of anything our client did or didn’t do. But the crux of Ms. Haseul’s argument is that our client, as this patient’s medical provider, didn’t owe a duty of care to the patient because the provider wasn’t technically an employee of the hospital due to a bunch of legal stuff, even though our client directly treated them. She said our motion will definitely be denied at the hearing but… it’s scary.”

“Death?”

“Hm?” His question threw off your train of thought for a moment.

“Death is scary?”

“I meant that Ms. Haseul’s duty to her clients involves arguing that medical providers don’t have a duty of care to ensure that their patients don’t die. And that my job involves helping her do that. But yeah, I guess that involves a want to not die. I don’t think not wanting to die and being afraid of dying are the same thing, though.”

“Are you afraid of dying?”

“I… don’t know,” you frowned thoughtfully as you looked down into the mouth of your glass. “I think most people who are, are usually afraid because they don’t how they’ll die or because they don’t know what happens after they die. They’re afraid of the unknown. Which is a pretty good thing to be afraid of. But I’ve been to the Underworld with you, I’m dating Hades himself, for fuck’s sake. I’ve got a fairly good idea of what’ll happen to me after I die. And… I don’t know if I’m afraid of dying.”

“That’s fair. You know more about it than most humans do, but not enough about what your specific experience of dying will be like to make a determination.”

“Really though, I just couldn’t stop imagining living in a world where I could go to a doctor who doesn’t owe me any duty of care, who doesn’t legally have to give a shit if I lived or died,” you sighed, then took a long swig of your drink, well aware that it was mostly diluted by the melted ice by now. “And I don’t want to contribute at all to making that world a reality. I don’t want any part of that, big or small. Even just proof-reading a legal brief. It just… grossed me out.”

You set your glass down on the table a little too harshly, the garish bang making you jump a little.

Looking up to meet the dark eyes that you could feel watching you, you searched them for something, “Jaemin, do you think I’m a hypocrite? I-I have all these opinions, but when it comes down to it, I’m at this job, helping attorneys to write briefs that say all this horrible stuff.”

His gaze was steady as he answered, “I think that if you had to find a new job every time your boss asked you to do something that went against your morals in the slightest way, you’d be spending so much of your time trying to find new jobs that you’d never have the time to actually impact the world in any meaningful way.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“That’s a ‘you proof-reading one brief isn’t going to bring about the end of The Hippocratic Oath and all morality is relative anyway.’”

“Damn, moral relativism…” you clicked your tongue. “Intro to Philosophy flashbacks aside, you might be making some points, Jaemin.”

“Thanks, I try,” he chuckled. Tilting his head to the side, he brought a hand up to grace over your new earrings again, tender but contemplative gaze in his obsidian eyes, “Y/N, do you think I’m a monster?”

His voice wasn’t sad or forlorn, just curious, inquisitive. You took his hand in yours—the one that was looking over the jewelry he’d just gifted you—and squeezed it. It was really more self-soothing than anything else, and he ran his thumb over your bejeweled knuckles in response.

“And where’s this coming from?”

“Humans have a lot of monstrous ideas about death and the dead. I want to know what you think.”

“In my ghost lit class, one of the concepts we discussed was the difference between the monstrous and the divine. I argued that there is no line between the two, that it’s up to how one chooses to interpret what they’re seeing or experiencing.” You brushed the back of your fingers over his cadaverous cheeks, taking comfort in the familiar cold against your skin. “So no, Jaemin, you’re not a monster. Not to me.”

You finally found what you’d been searching for in his eyes, that warmth of evanescing embers that compelled you to keep looking lest you miss the moment the ephemeral glow finally died. Your fingers were still caressing his cheek, softly, he was still holding you with a hand on your back, and he was beholding you with a yearning that made your heart lurch against your ribcage; and you knew in that moment if you asked him for his own heart he would have reached his hand into his chest and given it to you, the organ still beating and dripping crimson. Surging forward, you claimed his lips with your own. He reciprocated your kiss with one that made your head spin and your very bones ache and burn with a craving to both embower him and be consumed by him. Jaemin, god of the Underworld, your Hades.

“Hey, Y/N, I need you to draft a—”

“I’m going on lunch, Sicheng. I can in sixty minutes.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Y/N, will you please help me research this—”

“Qian Kun, the clock just struck 5:00 p.m., the work day is over. I’m going home and you should too.”

“God, sorry, I didn’t even realize. Yes, go home. I still have so much to—”

“I say this with the best intentions and all the platonic, workplace appropriate, and professional love in the world: Don’t make me go into your office and turn your computer off without saving your files.”

“…5:30?”

“Fine. And you know I can check your billing logs in the system, right? I’ll be able to see if you’re here even a minute past 5:30.”

“I know that now.”

“Uh-huh. Goodnight, Kun.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And so went your days at Kim & Moon, helping to conduct the three-ring circus that was Kun, Sicheng, and Yangyang. Despite the legal assistant initially seeming like a trustworthy and responsible ally on your first day, you soon found that he was an accomplice to the madness, or more often than not, the instigator. He was good at his job, and you could rely on him to make sure things got done by deadlines. But when it came to making the workplace itself run smoothly and ensuring your day-to-day lives were stress-free? Absolutely not. He knew exactly how to make his attorneys tick in the worst ways.

Dong “dumber than a box of rocks” Sicheng was the current victim of Yangyang’s boredom today. How he could even get bored with your workload was just a testament to his efficiency, but it irked you that instead of using this free time for good he instead used it to be the menace of the millennium.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N?” Yangyang’s voice suddenly cut into the recording of Ms. Haseul’s voice that was playing into your headphones. His tone clearly begged for you to agree with him.

“Hm?” You took the headphones off and paused the dictation.

Sicheng was standing at Yangyang’s desk, a stapler in his hands. You raised an eyebrow to look between them. This seemed somewhat normal so far.

“All the new staplers now have a safety mechanism so that they won’t staple fingers because a kid stapled all the way through his finger and his parents sued the stapler company for like millions of dollars,” the assistant said with the right amount of casualness, sincerity, and almost disbelief that Sicheng didn’t know this ‘common piece of knowledge.’ “They rolled out the new ones what—ten years ago?”

“You seriously interrupted my transcription for this?” You rolled your eyes. You were about to put your headphones back in when you saw Sicheng tentatively reaching his index finger towards the mouth of the stapler. “No, Sicheng!”

You lurched forward to take the stapler from his hand before he could test the ‘safety mechanism’ on himself. Yangyang had to bury his face in his arms on his desk to stifle his laughter.

“He was lying, wasn’t he?” Sicheng was catching on quicker to when Yangyang was teasing him these days. Not quick enough that you didn’t have to intervene every time you saw it happening, but you had to give him credit somewhere at least. Sometimes you didn’t have to explain to him afterwards the fact that he was being had.

“How did you even become a lawyer, Sicheng? How did you get through law school?” You waved the stapler at him accusatorily. “And I don’t mean grades, I’ve read some of your briefs, so I don’t doubt your 4.0 GPA. I mean how did you not die before you ever got there? How did you not stick a fork in an electrical socket, or eat candy with razorblades in it, or get kidnapped before you met me? I’m convinced you should be dead in a ditch and yet here you are.”

“It’s because he’s pretty,” Kun walked up to your desks then, setting down the papers in his hand to pinch Sicheng’s cheek, and the other attorney swatted his hand away. “People want to do stuff for him.”

Yangyang had sobered up from his laughing fit, teasing glint in his eye now focused on his other attorney, “That why you followed him to Kim & Moon, Kun? To make sure the big bad lawyers here don’t be mean to your pretty Sichengie?”

“So all sense of professionalism and decorum is just out the window right now?” Sicheng scoffed.

“That is not how it happened, Yangyang, and you know it,” Kun rolled his eyes.

“Did you two know each other before you worked at the firm?” You asked, realizing that you didn’t actually know anything about how the two associates had started at Kim & Moon, even after working at the firm for six months now.

Kun took it upon himself to explain, “We were friends in law school. I was a year ahead of Sicheng and after I graduated, I did a short stint at the prosecutor’s office. He came here straight out of law school.”

The other attorney finished the story, “When Kun figured out being a prosecutor wasn’t his thing after a couple years, he came to Kim & Moon as well.”

“That’s cute. Besties who litigate together, stay together. Right Jeno?” You tossed the last question over your shoulder at your friend who was working at his own desk. Jeno gave a thumbs up back without turning around, and you could see that his headphones were definitely in. Returning to the other three men with you, you looked to your fellow assistant, “And what about you, Yang? When did you start working here?”

“Oh you mean the worst day of my life?” Yangyang sighed melodramatically.

“One of these days I’ll record you with my dictaphone when you say that, play it for the senior partners, and you’ll be out of here you little demon,” Sicheng narrowed his eyes at his assistant.

“Anyway, I actually started out as an intern like…” Yangyang craned his neck around until he spotted a tall, lanky figure carrying probably too many boxes of copier toner into the copy room. “Like Sungchan over there. I got an internship here in undergrad because one of my professors knew Mr. Jeong, and I didn’t have anything better to do. Then once I graduated, I had no other plans and was offered a full-time legal assistant position working with Yejin. She was Ms. Haseul’s paralegal before you, Y/N. She used to do all of Ms. Haseul and Sicheng’s work by herself. They wanted to have Kun start medical malpractice too, so I came on as more support.”

“And when was that?”

“I came on full time a little before Jeno started I think?” Yangyang grabbed a pen from his desk, spinning his chair around and throwing the pen at said man. It missed Jeno’s head, thankfully, smacking against one of his monitors and clattering onto his keyboard. Your friend whipped around, immediately focusing in on your chaotic coworker as the source.

“What?”

“When was your first day at the firm?”

“I don’t know, summer like two years ago now?”

“Sounds about right. Thanks.”

“I’m keeping the pen, asshole.”

“I have more.” Yangyang shrugged, once again turning back to your conversation. “So I started full-time probably May that same year.”

“You are a galactic-threat level menace,” you shook your head. “You know that, right?”

“Don’t compliment him, Y/N,” Kun sighed.

Laid in Jaemin’s arms one night, feeling full, warm, and content, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you wanted to be in that moment. Dinner had been exceptionally delicious that night, and when you got back to your apartment you wanted nothing but to curl up with him on your couch, which he easily indulged you in. He picked a couple books off your shelf, plopped down onto your couch, and pulled you down on top of him. You nearly melted when he tucked you under his chin, and had been in a hazy state of half-consciousness since. Your eyes would occasionally flutter open or shut as you listened to his heartbeat under your ear, the sound of his fingers running along the pages as he turned them, and felt his chest rise and fall with his breaths. His arms were wrapped around you enough to read the book behind your head—The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, you’d caught a glimpse of the cover. You knew when he’d found a passage that he was exceptionally taken with or wanted to ponder, because one of his hands—the right one, specifically—would fall to the small of your back just under the hem of your shirt, his middle finger drawing mindless circles along your skin until he was ready to move on.

This particular part seemed to be stumping him, though, as his fingers ruminated on your back for much longer than they had before. Before you could comment on this, you let out an embarrassing noise at the sudden feeling of his cool fingertips working their way up your spine then along your shoulder blades, caressing your skin and pressing on your body playfully.

“Jaemin!” You coughed to cover up the squeak in your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking for wings, I know they’ve got to be around here somewhere,” his words hummed against you as you continued to wriggle away from the ticklish feeling.

His book had apparently been set aside at some point, as you felt both his hands on you. When you’d finally managed to twist yourself onto your back, albeit still on top of him, he gave up his ministrations.

You couldn’t help the tiny bursts of laughter that continued to bubble up out of you at the pure cheesiness, “After thousands of years, you still can’t get better lines than that?”

You grabbed his hand, holding your linked hands to your chest, a fond smile on your lips as you looked down at his fingers between yours. He kept you tucked under his chin, wrapping his left arm around your waist as you had already claimed his right.

“Why would I want to when they make you giggle like that?” He then splayed his right palm over your chest, and you could feel your heartbeat thrum up against it as if your heart were trying to leap into his waiting hand, “And make your heart race like this?”

Another few moments passed by of the two of you quietly listening to your heartbeat before you spoke up again; softly, absentmindedly, the words leaving your mouth as soon as you thought them, “Sometimes I feel more like Icarus with you, actually.”

“How do you mean?”

“I swear sometimes it feels like it’s just too good to be true, like I’m too happy and if I’m not careful it’ll all melt away and I’ll fall into the ocean.”

“You do remember the other part, right? Icarus was warned that if he flew too low, the seawater would weigh down his wings.”

“…You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he said, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice, annoyed that it actually kind of made you feel better. The fact that your Hades was so confident about something, it made you want to believe in it too. His right hand moved from your chest so that two of those fingers could lift your chin. Once you were looking up at him, he continued, “Besides, you don’t have beeswax wings anyway, you have angel wings, remember?”

You let out something between a scoff and a chuckle, both in disbelief that he was still on about that, and also absolutely smitten with him as usual.

Knowing that he didn’t have you convinced or cheered up enough for his liking, Jaemin’s other hand snaked to the space in between his chest and your back, fingers playing at the bones of your shoulder blades once more. “Aha! I’ve finally found them, Y/N, they’re right here! I told you you’ve got angel wings!”

The longer he went on the more his fingers drifted around to your sides to tickle you instead, and you squirmed in his grip as both his hands participated in the assault, you soon falling from your previous spot on top of him. His arms darted out to gently guide your tumble, twisting himself around to make sure that you landed on the couch cushions instead of the ground.

“Jaemin!” You yelped out as the breath was being squeezed from your lungs.

He quickly let up his tickle attack, now hovering over you, supported by a hand on either side of your head. You looked up at your Hades with a bright grin that surely mirrored his, reaching up to grab his face with both your hands and kiss that smile right off him.

“Anything else on the agenda, Y/L/N?” Ms. Haseul prompted you.

“No, ma’am,” you shook your head, having crossed off the final thing. You’d just concluded your monthly team meeting for everyone under Ms. Haseul’s purview at the office.

“Does anybody have anything to add?”

At the other three shaking their heads, Ms. Haseul dismissed everyone, already efficiently packing up her supplies in her briefcase.

“Y/L/N, don’t forget to send that memo to Mr. Moon and Lee Donghyuck,” she reminded you on her way out, referencing the managing partner and his trusted paralegal.

“Of course, Ms. Haseul.” You nodded, but she was already out the door.

The other four of you were a little slower to leave. You cracked your back as you stood, “Alright, I’m going to the break room to grab a cup of coffee, anybody coming with?”

“I have to jump on a conference call in a couple minutes, but could someone get me a cup?” Sicheng asked from the threshold of the doorway. “The orange K-cups, two sugars.”

“Sure, Sicheng, I’ll grab you one,” you nodded for him to go ahead, and he immediately disappeared down the hall.

“Y/N, what did I tell you about telling him no?” Yangyang chastised you as he tucked his pen behind his ear. “All those suffragettes didn’t chain themselves to stuff for you to give in to the patriarchy so easily.”

“Yangyang, I’m really starting to think that you’re just one of those guys who took a singular Women and Gender Studies class in college and hasn’t shut up since.”

“I think Yangyang is one of those guys who was born and hasn’t shut up since,” Kun scoffed under his breath.

But your fellow assistant wasn’t letting it go, “Y/N, seriously—”

“Liu Yangyang, it’s a cup of coffee, and I’m already going there anyway. If you asked me to make you a cup and I was already going, I’d say yes too. If Sicheng asks me to wash his car or clean his apartment, I promise I’ll say no.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, are you coming with to watch me singlehandedly take away my right to vote by making a man a cup of coffee or not?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Can we go then?” Kun asked sternly, clearly waiting by the door for the two of you to stop bickering. The twitch of his hand belied that he was itching for his caffeine fix. Presumably his fourth or fifth cup at least. He must have pulled a late night or early morning. Or both.

“Oh and we’ve even got Kun to witness the downfall of gender equality as we know it!” You cheered in mock enthusiasm.

“Do I want to know what the hell you two are talking about?”

Jeno was already in the breakroom when you got there, pouring creamer into his own cup of coffee. He stepped aside for the attorney to use the machine as you and Yangyang struck up conversation with your friend.

“Did you guys see that email Mr. Jeong sent to all the support staff this morning?” Jeno asked, shaking in some sugar.

“About the Administrative Staff Appreciation Lunch tomorrow?” You confirmed. “Yeah, I’d feel a lot more appreciated if they could get somewhere nicer than the pizza place down the street to cater.”

“Or just get an open bar,” Yangyang snorted. “No lunch necessary.”

As you and Jeno groaned out your agreement, Kun had finished making his black coffee, freeing up the machine for you to start on yours and Sicheng’s.

The attorney was on his way out but slowed to a stop in the threshold of the doorway, turning and lowering his voice to address the three of you, “You didn’t hear this from me, but all of the associates were taken out for an appreciation lunch just last week at Nobu. You all deserve much more than pizza.”

And with that, he left the break room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jeno spat out, setting his cup down and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh now I definitely need a fucking drink,” you sighed, violently snapping Sicheng’s orange K-cup into place.

“I’m going to key somebody’s Tesla,” Yangyang whispered resolutely, curling one of his hands into a fist.

“No, Yangyang.” You shook your head, grabbing the two sugar packets you’d need in a minute. “No property damage. Or no property damage in our parking garage with cameras. Lord knows I’m not paying your bail.”

Your best friend took over, “What we need is a drink, or five. Tomorrow after work?”

Yangyang grabbed a coffee stirrer and gestured around wildly as he spoke. “Oh yeah, especially after that fucking insulting pizza party they’re throwing us.”

“We can invite all the support staff. At least the ones we actually like,” Jeno suggested. “Us three, Lee Donghyuck, Osaki Shotaro in Billing, uh, Sungchan the intern…”

As he trailed off, you all looked at each other.

“And that’s it, right?” Jeno asked.

“Our coworkers kind of suck, don’t they?” Yangyang mused, chewing on the plastic stirrer.

“Or are we just assholes?” You locked your own K-cup into the coffee machine.

That night you were sprawled out on your couch, legs propped up in Jaemin’s lap as you anxiously scrolled through restaurant recommendations on your phone. Every Saturday night you and Jaemin tried a new place, and this week it was your turn to pick, but you were yet to find one, fearing that the two of you had finally ran out of restaurants in your city. Jaemin, meanwhile, was reading another book from your ghost lit syllabus, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. You swore he’s read more of those books than you ever did, and you actually paid to take the class.

A text popping up on your screen from Jeno caught your eye.

[make it double: you’re DD tomorrow, right?]

[you: i am. might have other plans though, let me double check]

[make it double: don’t make me pay for an uber please]

“Jaemin,” you called out his name softly.

“Yes?” He put his thumb in the novel to hold his place as he looked over to you attentively.

You’d think that you’d get used to this, your Hades’ full attention on you, head lolling to the side as his gaze drank you in, black hair falling into his eyes, and fingertips messing with the edges of the pages absentmindedly. But you still weren’t, your breath hitching in your throat for a moment, your question being momentarily forgotten.

After a beat, you finally regained your speech and were able to say, “Some of my coworkers want to go out for drinks after work tomorrow, but I know that’s your time that I gave you.”

“I can come a couple hours late and we’ll add an hour each to Saturday and Sunday,” Jaemin suggested.

“Here’s the thing: tomorrow is a Friday, and Jeno and I have been taking turns DD’ing whenever we go out since college, and it’s my turn.”

“You’re anticipating a late night.” He surmised.

“I’m anticipating taking care of a drunk Lee Jeno until midnight then passing out as soon as I get home. I can’t imagine I’ll be much fun to be around after.”

“And you want to go get drinks with these people?” He clarified with an eyebrow raised.

“I know I’m not making it sound appealing but yes, I promise,” you chuckled.

“Just checking that this wasn’t a cry for help.” Jaemin tucked his bookmark in the novel to fully set it aside. “How about we move those eight hours to Saturday or Sunday then? Instead of arriving at six p.m., I'll get here at ten a.m. and we can spend the day together too.”

You squinted skeptically at him, “Can you even go out during the day? Won’t the sun burn you or light you on fire or make you glitter or something?”

“I’m the god of the dead, angel, not a vampire from a teen movie.”

“I know, just teasing,” you snickered.

“And I know you were just teasing. I love to see the little smile you get on your face in the middle of one your bits. Too adorable.”

He grabbed your free hand, and you watched him fondly as he kissed your fingers before letting your linked hands rest over your stomach.

You continued your weekend planning, “I’ll need to recuperate from Friday night and run some errands on Saturday, so a Sunday date sounds perfect. For sixteen hours straight, you’re mine.”

“I’m yours all the time,” he squeezed your hand.

“You know what I meant, you sap.” You rolled your eyes despite how warm his words made you feel inside. With the daytime suddenly available to you, a destination immediately popped into your mind, “And no making big romantic plans, I’ve got it this time; I know exactly where I want to take you for our first daytime date.”

“Understood. I can’t wait.”

Sunday morning you were practically skipping through town, relishing in the warm sun on your skin and the feeling of Jaemin’s fingers laced through yours. You came to a stop at an intersection, waiting impatiently for the lights to change so you could cross. Bouncing on your heels, you could feel your Hades’ gaze on you, even through the dark sunglasses he was wearing.

“What?” You asked, taking your eyes off the crosswalk signal to look over at him.

“Nothing.” He was grinning at you, hair getting blown around by the passing cars. His shirt was made of a loose-fitting, flowy material with a deep-cut V-neckline, showing off an assortment of fine silver chains with pendants and gems. Even the leather belt around his hips betrayed a subtle expensiveness, the impression of a designer brand’s logo on the buckle.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, making a smile spread across your face in turn.

“Oh, signal’s changed,” he pointed out.

The rest of your walk didn’t take long, and finally you had arrived.

“Art museum?” Jaemin questioned as you tugged him towards the front doors.

“Yep!” You were buzzing, and fought to keep your voice down once you passed the threshold into the quiet building.

He bought your tickets, and you accepted the informational pamphlet from the worker behind the front desk that listed the exhibits, quickly tucking it into your handbag.

The first gallery was just behind the ticket counter, and was one of the largest, mostly for paintings. You stopped Jaemin at the very first one by the door.

“I brought Jeno here exactly once,” you whispered. “You see how big this gallery is? He cleared the whole thing in like two minutes then waited for me at the door literally tapping his foot.”

“There’s like a hundred paintings in here,” Jaemin pointed out in disbelief, looking around the gymnasium-sized room.

“I know. I’ve been back by myself and spent over two hours in just this gallery alone. Saw the docents switch out like four times.”

Looping your arm through his, you leaned against your Hades to look over the first painting. You liked to just absorb the piece in front of you, ruminate on it, really ground yourself in what you were looking at. Sometimes you read the small information card next to it about the artist and the piece. But mostly you looked at the subject, the brush strokes, the colors and how they blended into each other—or didn’t. It was relaxing. Sometimes the paintings made you feel things, and sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they were just pretty to look at.

Jaemin was quiet for the most part, occasionally commenting when he especially enjoyed a painting, or to respond to something you said. But generally the two of you were silent, and you were satisfied that you’d found the perfect art museum companion. He never dragged you from a painting before you were done with it and even wanted to stay with some longer than you did.

The museum had three levels, the second was split into two smaller galleries, this time with sculptures, drawings, and etchings. After you and your Hades were done with that one, you found it difficult not to practically run up the stairwell to the third and final floor, knowing exactly what was waiting for you there.

“Okay, Jaemin, so this museum has something kind of special,” you forewarned him, pressing your lips together in an attempt to fight off your excited smile. “Or, I hope it’ll be special. I think it’s special, you know, for you.”

He tilted his head curiously at you as the two of you reached the top of the stairs, “Okay. It’s up here?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on,” you took him by the hand to pull him towards the entrance door to the final gallery.

The gallery you had entered was void of other patrons; and sectioned up into several smaller areas, many stark white pedestals displaying vases, urns, trinkets, with a large marble sculpture of a woman at the center as the focal point. Your focus was entirely on Jaemin’s face as you held your breath, waiting for his reaction. His eyes widened as he scanned the contents of the room.

“It’s…”

“An Ancient Greece exhibit,” you finished his sentence, drawing his eyes back to you. You fidgeted with your ring nervously, “What… uhm— Do you like it? Like, do you want to look around? This isn’t weird, is it?”

Jaemin brushed a piece of your hair back from your face, the tenderness of his touch making your chest swell. He pulled you closer, kissing your forehead before pulling back to look you in the eye.

“This is great, angel, thank you.”

At his words, you let out an audible sigh of relief. Your Hades’ obsidian irises were twinkling in the museum fluorescents as he looked at you with pure adoration.

“I love you,” he declared simply, earnestly, for the first time. “And, I’ll never love someone exactly like this again.”

You nodded in understanding, “I love you too, Jaemin. And, I believe you.”

He was still holding you, and despite the emptiness of the exhibit you were currently in, you were aware of the fact that it was a public museum that you two were in.

“Jaemin…” you murmured, listening to the docent’s footsteps in the other room. “Don’t you want to look at all the stuff?”

“In a second,” his tender gaze roamed your face. “Right now I’m looking at something more beautiful.”

“Oh God, you’re so chee—” Your retort was cut off by Jaemin finally pressing his lips to yours.

Blearily looking around your room, you realized that it was vacant in the only way that mattered. Jaemin was gone, and you didn’t remember getting into bed last night. You were pretty sure you had fallen asleep on your couch with your Hades after getting back from your long day out. Half-sitting up against your headboard, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand to check the time. You still had five minutes until your work alarm went off. Flopping back down, you were fully intent on dozing back off, and rolled over to face the empty half of your bed.

Except it wasn’t quite empty. Atop the second pillow was a small black box. When you reached out to grab it, you felt the velvet that encased it, and pushed yourself up onto your side, held up by an elbow. It was a jewelry case of some kind. Flipping the lid open, you took a sharp breath in. Inside was a gorgeous necklace; a teardrop-shaped gemstone the size of your thumbnail in a deep red shade, surrounded by smaller white diamonds, and hanging from a dainty silver chain.

Clicking on your bedside lamp, you were able to get a better look at the center stone. It was a dark, cool red, with just the slightest tone of purple when you held it up in front of the light. Outside of direct light, it was so dark you couldn't even call it blood red. Pomegranate red, you thought to yourself. It was the color of fresh, bursting pomegranate seeds.

Unlatching the hook, you carefully clasped it back around your neck. The crystal wasn’t obnoxiously weighty, but you could feel the subtle pressure of it as it rested against your bare skin.

“Thank you, Jaemin,” you mumbled, eyes trailing over the unoccupied sheets longingly. “I love it.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Yangyang whistled lowly as you walked into work that morning, eyeing the gems adorning your fingers, ears, and now neck. “Did you get a sugar daddy or something? You’ve got an entire jewelry shop on you.”

“Oh, uhm, no,” you shook your head, warmth spreading across your face. No sugar daddy, just the god of the Underworld.

“Mind sharing with the class where all the new bling is coming from then?”

You looked up from where your fingertip had been gently gracing the pomegranate red gem that hung from your neck to stare Yangyang directly in the eyes as you scoffed, “Actually, I would mind, thanks.”

“Bet she’s moonlighting as a cat burglar,” Jeno teased from his desk.

“Ooh, that’s a good guess,” Yangyang nodded, eyes gleaming as he continued that avenue of jibes. “Mafia boss’ daughter maybe? Y/N, what does your dad do for a living?”

The ringing of your desk phone saved you from having to respond to that. It was your boss.

“Y/L/N,” she was as monotone as ever, voice giving no indication as to her thoughts or intentions. “My office, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” you assented before placing the phone back on the receiver.

Standing from your seat, you gave Yangyang and Jeno a professionally concealed middle finger down by your thigh, earning giggles from Jeno and indignant protests from Yangyang. You coolly dropped the offending gesture to grab your company tablet, a notepad, and pencil before departing the open floor for the hallway of private offices.

You stopped in front of one partway down the hall, in the midst of the junior partners’ offices. ‘Jo Haseul’ was engraved on the nameplate in an elegant font, and you rapped your knuckles below it on the solid wood door.

“Come in,” the familiar voice of your boss called out from within.

Gently turning the handle first, you then pushed the door open.

“Good morning, Ms. Haseul,” you bowed your head politely to her.

Junior partners at the firm allowed the assistants and paralegals to address them by a formal version of their name, the associates were just addressed by their given name, but senior partners and the managing partner were of course always addressed in the most formal vernacular, Mr./Ms. Surname. Not that you really interacted with anybody higher up than Ms. Haseul anyway.

“Good morning, Y/L/N. Please, sit.” She gestured to one of the two armchairs in front of her desk.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, taking the seat she had indicated. You quickly opened up your tablet to view her calendar and readied your pencil over your notepad. Ms. Haseul typically had a sit-down meeting with you every Monday morning to discuss the upcoming week: deadlines, hearings, meetings, etc.

Ms. Haseul took a moment to click a few things on her desktop, “Looks like we have those Hwang discovery responses due Thursday. I’ll finish dictating those this morning and you can get started on transcription today. This morning I have my hearing on the Motion to Dismiss in Lee that you filed last month. Mediation on Wednesday for Alpine Products, we sent out those letters on it, right?”

“Yes, ma’am, two weeks ago,” you confirmed, scribbling down the key events. “You also have a teleconference with the insurance company for that file this afternoon.”

“Yes, I see…” she mused, a twinge of annoyance in her tone that was only discernable to the trained ear—i.e., yours. You knew she didn’t like the insurance rep assigned to that case, he tended to be a pain in the ass constantly asking for updates. “Where are we at in scheduling the expert witness depositions for Peng?”

You filled her in on all your progress in various matters, attentively writing down her directives in response to your reporting. Finally, you had finished out the calendar for the week, as well as your works in progress.

“One last thing before I let you go, Y/L/N,” she cleared her throat.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I have a new client meeting tonight.”

“You do? I don’t remember scheduling one,” you flipped through the calendar on your tablet in mild panic. You hadn’t booked a conference room or let building security know about an evening meeting.

“You didn’t schedule it, don’t worry.”

Your boss’ words immediately made you let out a short sigh of relief. It wasn’t long lasting, as you still needed to handle arrangements on your end, “How many will be in attendance? Will you want Jade Conference Room or Malachite? Would you like me to stay to scribe?”

“It’s a dinner meeting, so the conference room won’t be necessary.”

“Understood.”

“I would like you to come, though, Y/L/N.”

You felt your eyes bug out, stylus slipping from your fingers. Ms. Haseul never asked you to come to meetings outside of the office. Sure, you would act as scribe for some of her meetings in the office, but you’d never accompanied her to a lunch or dinner meeting.

She continued, “This will be a general corporate client, and I anticipate having them on for quite some time. You’re familiar with corporate matters, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, that was my concentration in my paralegal studies, and you of course have several corporate clients currently.”

“I plan on having you act as case manager for this client. This dinner will be a good way for you to be introduced.”

“Of course, I’m honored, Ms. Haseul.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up just the slightest, “Good. The meeting is at Nobu in downtown. We will leave from the office at the end of the day. Change on your lunch if you need to.”

You looked down at your outfit, your typical office wear. The office’s dress code was business formal, which you made sure to follow to a T. She wanted you to wear something else?

“A little dressier but less formal,” your boss spoke again, as if reading your thoughts. “Think office Christmas party.”

An image of a suitable outfit flashed in your mind, and you nodded, “Right, thank you. I’ll change on my break.”

“That is all I have. You’re dismissed for this morning, Y/L/N. I have to prepare for that hearing now. I'll be leaving at 9:00 a.m.”

At her dismissal of you, you got back onto your feet, bowed your head to her again and departed her office. The heavy door closed with a soft click behind you. You held the pencil, notepad, and tablet in one hand as the other reached up to play with the jewel hanging from your neck. Looks like you wouldn’t be seeing your Hades until tomorrow night.

You stepped out of the company car that Ms. Haseul had driven you there in and followed her towards the restaurant. Nobu was a high-end sushi restaurant downtown, much out of your everyday dinner price-range, but you figured she’d be paying with her firm credit card since this was a business dinner.

The hostess greeted you brightly, to which Ms. Haseul informed her of your reservation.

“Of course, right this way,” she grabbed four menus before guiding you further into the restaurant.

You two were brought to a private room, and the hostess slid the door open for you. As you sat down at the table that was within, you marveled at the aesthetics of the restaurant. It fused traditional style with modernism in a way that was effortless. The menus were set down in front of each of the four chairs at the table. Your waiter came by soon, and Ms. Haseul put in an order for four waters while you waited for the clients to arrive.

The door suddenly opened again, and two men entered the room. Your eyes were first drawn to the taller of the two, who entered ahead of his colleague. He had roughly shoulder-length wavy blonde hair that was half pulled back from his face, and he was so stunning you could hardly believe that he was anything other than a model. He was wearing an all-white suit, a bold move for a dinner. When your gaze moved from the gorgeous man to his companion, you choked on your own throat. Black hair, dark eyes, silver and gems glittering across his ears. Jaemin cocked an eyebrow at you when you made eye contact with him. He was in a similar ensemble as to when he first appeared to you: black slacks, black suit jacket, and black vest. This time, however, he did have a dress shirt underneath the vest, the top buttons buttoned up as the silver chains that hung from his neck rested atop the crisp material.

Thankfully your boss took the lead on introductions, allowing you a moment to attempt to compose yourself. She stood up from her chair to greet them, as did you.

“Thank you both very much for coming, I’m Jo Haseul,” she bowed to both of them, and you rushed to follow suit from your position beside and just behind her. Ms. Haseul then gestured for you to come forward, “Mr. Suh, Mr. Na, this is my paralegal, Ms. Y/L/N Y/N. She will be your first point of contact on all matters. She’s incredibly capable and reliable. So please, reach out to her with whatever you need.”

While the open and high praise from your boss should’ve made your chest puff out with pride, instead it practically went in one ear out the other. Jaemin, your Hades, was standing right in front of you. It took everything in you to draw your eyes from him and to the floor to once again bow appropriately to him and the other man.

“Yes, please contact me with anything at all. I will do everything I can to assist you as treasured clients,” you declared respectfully before standing back up straight.

“Thank you, Ms. Jo, and of course thank you very much too, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mr. Suh was the one who acknowledged your words. “We will be sure to contact you as needed. I’m Johnny Suh and this is my business partner, Na Jaemin.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Suh, Mr. Na.”

“Shall we eat, then?” Ms. Haseul suggested, prompting all of you to sit at the private table.

You took the same seat as you did before, a prick of disappointment in your chest as Johnny, not Jaemin, sat across from you. It took everything in you not to scoff and roll your eyes at yourself. What exactly would Jaemin sitting across from you accomplish? It’s not like you could do anything that indicated your knowing him prior to this meeting, especially not in the way that you do.

After drinks had been brought out and your appetizer orders were put in, Ms. Haseul began pushing her chair back, “Excuse me for a moment; ladies’ room.”

A few silent moments after she departed the private room, Mr. Suh had already finished off his drink and grabbed his empty glass. He shook it to make the ice inside clink, “I’m going to get a refill at the bar. Ms. Y/L/N, Jaemin, anything for you two while I’m there?”

“Oh, no thank you, Mr. Suh,” you hurriedly shook your head, nervous fingers twitching around your own half-full glass.

“Jaemin?”

He waved off his business partner, “I’m good, Johnny. But thank you.”

“‘Course,” he too, then exited the room.

Leaving just you and your Hades.

You finally spoke to Jaemin for the first time since being introduced, leaning forward to ask quietly, “Jaemin, don’t take this the wrong way but what the fuck are you doing here?”

A smirk came to his lips, “I told you I own a legitimate business.”

“You’re not expecting me to believe that this is an honest coincidence, are you?”

“No, of course not.” Any teasing immediately dropped out of his tone. “I obviously know what firm you work at, the best in the city. Why would I not hire the best firm in the city for my business? It would be irresponsible not to.”

“Did you request Ms. Haseul be your attorney?”

“No, she was recommended by the managing partner. And again, it would be irresponsible of me to not heed the recommendation to the best, most promising junior partner who specializes in corporate matters.”

With your worries somewhat placated, you relaxed back in your seat, “Fine. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“Of course,” Jaemin reached across the table to brush his fingertips over the back of your hand. His fingers sparkled even in the dim light of the restaurant from the multitude of rings across his knuckles, as did yours. “I’m sorry. Does this make you uncomfortable? I’m sure we can use another attorney at the firm if you’d like. Mr. Moon mentioned a different partner too, uh, Ms. Kang?”

“And let Lee Jeno be your case manager? Absolutely not.” You retorted.

He chuckled at that, switching to smoothing circles into your skin, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, your business partner, ‘Mr. Suh,’ is he... another god?”

“Smart, as always. Aphrodite.”

“I thought Aphrodite was a woman.”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “He seems to like this form right now. Changes it up every century or two.”

You mulled over this information in your mind. It certainly explained your initial idea that ‘Mr. Suh’ must’ve been some kind of model. And yet, as you looked over Jaemin’s features, you came to the conclusion that the goddess of beauty had nothing on your Hades and his haunting elegance.

“I see that you got the necklace,” he changed gears in the conversation, nodding towards where the jewel sat on your chest, easily seen with the top you were wearing.

You reached up to touch the jewelry in question, “Yes, thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“It looks even more stunning on you than I thought it would.”

“Jaemin...” You were supposed to have said his name in warning, but as your skin grew hot with equal parts embarrassment and giddiness, it came out as more of a whine.

The sound of heels clicking outside made you jerk your hand back from his, placing both of your own in your lap just a moment before Ms. Haseul opened the door. Your Hades nonchalantly picked up his drink again.

Ms. Haseul took stock of just you and Jaemin in the room, “Where’s Mr. Suh?”

“He went to get his drink refilled at the bar,” Jaemin explained as your boss took her seat once more. “Should be back soon.”

Right then the door opened once again, and the blonde man entered, amber brown drink in hand.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” your Hades let out a short laugh. “Were your ears burning, Johnny?”

“Oh, you all were talking about me?” The man grinned. “I hope you weren’t poisoning them against me, Jaemin.”

“Only bad things, John, you know that.”

“Why must you wound me at every opportunity?”

“Because you give me so many.”

You giggled at their banter, feeling yourself become a little more comfortable with your Hades there.

At the end of the dinner, after Mr. Suh had paid the bill at his insistence, the four of you were stood at the front of the restaurant.

“Thank you again for paying, Mr. Suh,” you bowed your head to him.

“No worries, I was happy to,” he waved off your thanks.

“It was a pleasure to meet you both, Ms. Jo, Ms. Y/L/N,” Jaemin spoke up, dazzling grin sweeping you off your feet for a moment. “We’re looking forward to working with you and your firm.”

“As are we,” Ms. Haseul said graciously. “I’m afraid we must be going. I have to take Y/L/N home before attending to something urgent.”

“Oh Ms. Haseul, you can go take care of whatever you need to, I’ll take a cab,” you assured her. “Please, you’ve done so much for me tonight, I can worry about getting myself home.”

“Very well, if you’re sure. Thank you, Y/L/N. See you in the morning,” she gave both you and the two gentlemen with you a final wave goodbye. “Goodnight, everyone.”

She hurried to the black company car that was parked just a little further down the block.

“I’ll go get the car,” Mr. Suh said to Jaemin. “Jaemin, if you could assist Ms. Y/L/N in hailing a cab.”

“Of course.”

And with that, Mr. Suh took off around the building towards the parking deck on the other side of the restaurant. And for the second time that night, you were alone with your Hades.

He stepped up towards the edge of the sidewalk, holding out a hand to passing traffic. You took the quiet moment as an opportunity to observe Jaemin, letting yourself bask in his presence. That same stubborn lock of his black hair had come out of place during dinner was now falling in his eyes. A nearby streetlight illuminated him from above, his unearthly features awash in a soft glow. Jaemin was stoically focused on the task at hand, a satisfied smile crossing his face as a taxi pulled over and stopped right in front of the two of you.

Wordlessly, he opened the back door for you.

“Thank you, Jaemin,” you stepped up to the vehicle.

“See you in a few, angel.”

“Right. See you.”

You climbed into the taxi, Jaemin’s cool hand on the small of your back as you did so. He gave you a wink before closing the door behind you.

The cab stopped in front of your apartment building, and you quickly paid the driver before getting out. Your apartment door swung closed behind you, and you locked up before making your way further into your home. Knowing that Jaemin would be arriving soon, you quickly kicked off your shoes and went to get into your pajamas.

Right as you walked back out of your bedroom, you heard your name being called from the living room. Turning the corner, you couldn’t help the smile that immediately came to your face when you saw your Hades standing there. He was in the same outfit as dinner, and your heart started thudding at the image of such a handsome man being there, in your living room.

“Jaemin,” you said his name in delight.

He’d just turned around before you got to him, catching him in a hug. Jaemin’s arms immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to him. Yours were around his neck, squeezing him tight, happy to just feel him there in your arms.

“Well, hey there,” he laughed. “Did you not just see me ten minutes ago?”

“I know, but I couldn’t do this ten minutes ago.”

“You could’ve, but your boss might’ve had a couple questions.”

“And she’d probably have a couple more if I did this.” You pulled your head back from where it was resting in the crook between his neck and shoulder, so that you could be face-to-face. With no hesitation, you threaded the fingers of one hand in the back of his hair and pulled his mouth to yours.

Your Hades smiled against your lips, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. With his grip on your waist, he could easily guide you with him down the hall towards your bedroom, mouth still locked with yours.

You were sat on your kitchen counter later that night, passing a spoon back and forth with Jaemin to polish off the last of your ice cream.

“Does Mr. Suh—? Aphrodite? What should I call him?” You cut yourself off with a thoughtful frown, stumbling over what exactly to call the god-slash-client you’d met tonight.

“Johnny is fine since it’s just you and me right now,” Jaemin accepted the spoon you held out to him.

“Does Johnny know? About me, and what we actually are?”

Your Hades swallowed the spoonful he’d just popped into his mouth, returning the utensil to you, “No, I had no reason to tell him when you and I first made our agreement and now… if I told him he’d think I made the deal for your soul, no matter what I said. He likes to think that he gives me the benefit of the doubt, but he doesn’t.”

“Mm… Alright, I trust that you know him better than I do.”

“Yeah, for thousands of years. He’s a good business partner, but he can be a condescending little bitch.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at this, “Really?”

“Yeah, Johnny usually handles the client-facing side of the company while I do the back-office stuff, because according to him I ‘give clients the heebie-jeebies.’”

“You are the god of the dead, Jaemin,” you reminded him with a giggle, wiping away a stray drop of ice cream at the corner of his pout.

“I know, and that’s what makes us great business partners. I don’t want to do client meetings, I’m not good at them, he loves them, he wants to do them. Vice versa for the back-office things. But he said that like I didn’t know that already when this whole operation was my idea anyway. I factored my heebie-jeebies into the plan. The heebie-jeebies were accounted for long before he ever came into the picture, and he gently put his hand on my shoulder like he was the first person to ever explain this to me.”

“Oh of course. The audacity, to underestimate your business acumen and foresight to calculate for heebie-jeebies.” You nodded, putting on your best serious face despite the urge to laugh.

Jaemin looked you dead in the eye, then sighed, “You can laugh, Y/N.”

You immediately let out a round of giggles, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, hearing you say heebie-jeebies so much, and so seriously I just—”

“You’re right, it’s a bit juvenile,” he shook his head, face finally cracking into a smile as he plunged the spoon back into the ice cream container.

“A warning would’ve been nice, by the way.”

“A warning?” Your Hades asked through a mouthful of ice cream. “For what?”

“That you were hiring Ms. Haseul as your attorney. I understand why you’d want to use her, but not why you chose not to give me at least a little heads-up.”

He shrugged, “I thought it’d be a fun surprise.”

“Fun for you or for me?” You scoffed.

“Would you believe me if I said you?” Jaemin dug up another big spoonful of ice cream, holding it out for you this time.

“Would you believe me if I said I believed that?” You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth for him to feed you anyway.

“No, not at all.”

A glance at your microwave clock made you sigh. It was late. You should be getting to bed, you still had two more days in your work week.

Jaemin had just turned to throw the empty ice cream carton in the trash, and thinking of work reminded you of plans you’d made with your coworkers.

Swinging your feet lightly from your perch on your countertop, you spoke up again, “Heads up, Friday is after work drinks for the support staff again. My turn DD’ing for the Terrible Two.”

“Noted.” Your Hades walked back over to you. You reached out for his forearms, dragging, pulling, and rearranging him until he was standing between your knees, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly to you, surrounded by the warm scents of cinnamon, bergamot, and cedar. Jaemin kept talking as he looped his arms around your waist, voice low, quiet, and right beside your ear, “Also, isn’t that phrase supposed to be ‘the terrible twos’ and refer to toddlers who throw tantrums?”

“Yeah, but it was one of the nicknames Jeno and I got in undergrad from a professor of ours. The full title was specifically ‘The Terrible Two of You.’” You hummed wistfully at the fond memories that cropped up, eyes fluttering shut as your muscles relaxed more and more in your comforting position. “Dr. Go, one of the best professors I’ve ever had. We ended up taking like three or four of his classes, and I had one more in grad school.”

“Sounds like you two were nuisances to the poor man for four years straight.”

“He was one of those professors that treated students like actual human beings, and you could joke around with. Hence, the nickname. I promise we were good students and the man adored us. Well, me, at least. Jeno on the other hand…”

“You always say the meanest things about that guy and he’s never around to defend himself,” Jaemin clicked his tongue teasingly. “So it sounds like I’ll be bringing bagels Saturday morning then?”

“Please?”

“Of course, angel,” he murmured, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

“Okay Jeno, here you go,” you patted your friend’s back before taking his arm off from where it had been looped around your shoulders, giving him a gentle push to deposit him face-down onto his bed.

Getting him up to the third floor of his building wasn’t so bad this time, he was able to support his own weight for the most part and needed you primarily to make sure he didn’t veer into a wall or trip over his own feet. But he did seem to think that knocking his apartment key from your hand while you tried to unlock his front door was a fun little game.

“I recommend changing into pajamas before going to sleep,” you said from where you stood at his bedside, looking down at him as he twisted around to squint up at you.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Jeno nodded, sitting up in his bed. “That’s why you… why you got that degree.”

“Of course. I got my Master of Legal Studies solely to give you sage advice when you’re drunk.”

As Jeno grabbed at the hem of his shirt, presumably to take heed of said sage advice, you quickly turned, shielding your eyes and heading for the bedroom door.

“I’ll grab you some water and medication. Let me know when you’re done.”

After filling up a water bottle and grabbing medication for the imminent nausea and future headache, you waited in the hall outside your friend’s room. He yelled out something that sounded like a ‘Ready!’ and you hesitantly tried the door handle. Opening the bedroom door again, you were relieved to see that Jeno was at least decent. Sure, his t-shirt was on backwards, but he was wearing pants, which was your main concern. No need for a repeat of Nu Kappa Theta’s Halloween party your sophomore year: plastered Jeno, DD you, and a missing pair of boxers. Needless to say, you were scarred for life, and Jeno couldn’t remember anything from that night past arriving at the NuKapp house still fully clothed. Lucky bastard.

You set the water and meds down on his nightstand to guide him back over to sit down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling on his bed behind him, you prepared to turn his shirt around the right way.

“Come on, arms up.”

He did as you asked, and you only took it off his arms, flipping it around at his neck before working on getting his arms back into the sleeves.

“Arms down.”

And his arms flopped back down obediently in his lap.

“Are you 23 or 3, dude?” You snickered.

“I can put a shirt on, Y/N!” His voice was practically a whine, but his movements had no umph to them as he let you manhandle him like changing a child.

“Apparently not, Jeno.”

He was quiet as you finally got the other arm in, and he straightened out the torso of the shirt himself.

“Alright, there you go.” You patted his shoulder before climbing off his bed to grab the water and medication once more. “You didn’t drink enough that I feel concerned about alcohol poisoning so I’m not going to make you puke your guts out tonight.”

“I ‘preciate that.”

“Me too. So, pills for you to keep it all down… and pills for the bitch of a headache coming your way in the morning,” you pointed at each in turn as you held out the tablets. After he grabbed those, you gave him the bottle. “And water. Wash them down then have a few more sips before going to sleep, please.”

“You’re the best,” Jeno mumbled before putting the tabs in his mouth. He knocked them back with the water then started to lay down in bed, “He’s lucky to have you. And I’m lucky to have you, too.”

Your friend had been trying to pull the covers up over himself, except he was also on top of them. Amused, you began assisting him as you entertained his drunk ramblings, “He who?”

“Th’ guy you’re seein’, duh!” His words were slurring together at this point as he let you tuck him in. “Th’ one with all th’ rings ‘n stuff. We’re lucky t’ have you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeno.” You sat beside him on the bed to brush some of his hair out of his face as his eyes started fluttering shut.

“Even if… even if you won’ let me… meet ‘im. ‘M lucky… t’ be your bes’ friend.”

You let out a bittersweet sigh at that, your hand coming to stillness on his head as he completely fell asleep. He knew you were keeping something from him and was letting you bring it to him at your own pace, and you loved him for that. And he really was your best friend, you’d seen each other through everything of the past nearly six years. The Dynamic Duo, Trouble and Make it Double, The Terrible Two of You. You’d sign up for classes together to make sure you’d sync up your schedules as much as possible, pulled innumerable all-nighters in the library together, were roommates in your first off-campus apartment, done your undergraduate research together, you were there when he got the news of his grandfather passing, and you were certain he’d kept creepy guys off you at parties more times than you’d ever know.

“And I’m lucky to be yours, Lee Jeno,” you said quietly to his sleeping form, watching his even, shallow breaths.

Usually everything was simple with Jeno. Your friendship with Jeno was always simple, even the stuff that felt complicated or heavy at the time, the solution was simple: talk to him. When you’d dropped his phone in the street and it got ran over, absolutely shattering the screen; when you’d forgotten to pay the power bill for your shared apartment one month and your electricity was turned off for a day; when it was his turn to DD at a party, you were a little more than tipsy and ended up making out with his brother Mark. It all worked out because the two of you had talked.

But this time… you were dating a client of the firm. A client of your attorney. A client who was a god. Admittedly, you’d started your relationship before he’d become a client. But again, he was Hades. Then there was how exactly you’d met. Even just thinking about which parts to tell, how much to tell, and what you’d inevitably have to bend, twist, or straight up lie about to Jeno made your head spin.

There at least was nothing you could do tonight.

So you gave his hair one last ruffle before standing up and walking over to his dresser. Your plans had initially been to go back to your own apartment, but you didn’t want to traverse the streets all alone this late at night. Is at least what you told yourself. Really, you’d been missing your best friend. After grabbing a couple articles of clothing that could serve as pajamas, you also stole the second pillow from his bed and a spare blanket before heading out of his bedroom.

You quietly shut the door behind you, setting the bedding down on the couch and changing clothes in the bathroom. After going around to turn off all the lights in the apartment and double check the locks on the front door, you finally laid down for the night. In the low light, you found yourself looking over all the rings and things adorning your hands and wrists. They were all gorgeous, but you still favored the simple silver band, the first one Jaemin ever gave you, to seal the deal you had made the night he appeared to you.

A robotic melody took your focus away from the document on your monitor that you had been drafting. You glanced over at the screen of your office phone, the source of the ringing. ‘RECEPTION’ was emblazoned across it in all caps.

Holding the receiver to your ear with your shoulder, you grabbed for your telephone notepad and a pen, “This is Y/N.”

“Hey Y/N!” The bright voice of the firm’s receptionist, Somi, greeted you. “There’s a Mr. Johnny Suh on line 1 for you.”

“Great, I’ll take him, thank you!”

“No problem.”

You scrawled down Mr. Suh’s name and number from the caller ID on your notepad before pressing the button for his hold, “Thank you for holding, this is Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N, this is Johnny Suh, how are you?”

“I’m good, Mr. Suh, thank you. How are you?”

“Only thing that’s changed is the weather, you know?” He chuckled.

You gave a short laugh, not entirely sure what he meant by that but needing to build your rapport anyway, “And how can I help you?”

“I am looking to schedule a meeting with you for us to discuss some assets. When are you available next week?”

“Let’s see…” You pulled up your calendar. “Just myself or Ms. Haseul as well?”

“Just you, Ms. Jo has assured us of your capabilities.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Suh,” you were warmed at the indirect praise. You couldn’t believe how much Ms. Haseul had apparently talked you up to these clients. “I’m free next Monday afternoon, Tuesday until 1:00, and all day Wednesday and Thursday.”

“Wednesday should be fine. 10:00 a.m.?”

“Yes sir, I have you down for Wednesday at 10:00. Will it be just you in attendance or is Mr. Na coming as well?”

“Actually, it will just be Jaemin. I have prior arrangements that day.”

“Understood,” you made the correction on your notes. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, that is all I needed from you, Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course, sir, thank you for calling.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too, goodbye.”

With that, you hung up, immediately pressing the quick-dial button for reception.

“Hey Y/N!” Somi was as cheery as ever when she picked up.

“Hi, Somi, what do conference room bookings look like for next Wednesday at 10:00 a.m.? Just two people in attendance.”

“Obsidian is open, or—”

“Obsidian will be fine,” you immediately jumped at her words. “I have a client meeting: Mr. Na Jaemin from Olympus Investments.”

“Okay, you are all booked for 10:00 a.m. on Wednesday.”

“Thank you very much, Somi.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Is that it?”

“Yes, thanks,” you put the phone back on the receiver in order to use both hands to enter the details in your calendar.

‘Client Meeting w/ Mr. Na Jaemin; re: assets; Obsidian Conference Room’

“Oh shit,” Yangyang frowned, tossing the coffee cup he had just picked up into his trashcan. “I’m out of coffee. Anybody coming to the breakroom with me?”

Jeno pushed his chair back from his desk with a groan, “Sure, if I don’t take a lap before replying to this email I just got, somebody’s going to get their feelings hurt.”

“Y/N?”

You shook your head, eyes still on your screen as you printed off a couple copies of the documents you’d need, “Would if I could, but I’ve got a client meeting in a few minutes.”

“Who?”

“Uh, Mr. Na Jaemin, CFO of Olympus Investments. General corporate client of Ms. Haseul’s.”

“Gross, sounds boring,” Yangyang wrinkled his nose. “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

“Thanks, Yang,” you rolled your eyes.

Just then, your desk phone rang, and you grabbed it without taking your eyes off your screen as you printed a couple more things, “This is Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Hey Y/N!” It was Somi. “Mr. Na Jaemin is here for his 10:00 appointment with you. I’ve gone ahead and set up Obsidian for you two, he’s waiting in the lobby.”

“Can you let him know I’ll be there in just a couple minutes?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Somi!”

You hung up, standing and grabbing all your materials from your desk, then off the printer. Momentarily stopping to organize your papers, you then made your way to the reception area, flashing Somi a smile before your eyes landed on him, on your Hades.

Keeping a straight spine and formal bow of your head, you greeted him politely, “Good morning, Mr. Na, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Welcome to Kim & Moon.”

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you, thank you,” Jaemin bowed back, flashing you a dazzling grin once he’d stood back up. “Shall we?”

“You can’t do that.” You shook your head at the business proposal you’d just heard from Jaemin. The two of you were deep into your meeting about reviewing Olympus Investment’s plans for renegotiating assets in the next quarter.

Jaemin’s brow furrowed in confusion, shifting forward in his spot across the table from you as he pointed to some numbers on his paper, “Of course we can, there’s plenty of assets to pull from—”

“Doesn’t matter, courts say no you can’t. There was a ruling ten, fifteen years ago now that’s been used as precedent in a swath of multi-billion dollar cases since. I actually studied this particular case law quite a bit because—hey!” You cut off your own excited rambling with a snap of your fingers in the space created by the table between yours and Jaemin’s faces.

Jaemin blinked at you innocently, “What?”

“Stop admiring me with that lovestruck grin on your face and listen, this is important.”

“I’m admiring and listening, I can multitask,” he countered teasingly, picking up his pen again. “Anyway, continue.”

“I studied this particular piece of case law in depth because I had a professor who was one of the attorneys who argued the original ruling. It’s a common thing that companies looking to redistribute assets will try to do. And you can’t.”

“You’re right.” Your Hades was beaming at you.

“About this? Of course I am,” you snorted, flicking through your papers to find what you needed to review next.

“Well yes, but I meant about you being good at your job.”

A smile crept across your lips as you continued busying yourself with looking for your papers.

After your meeting had concluded, you walked Jaemin back to the lobby, giving him a final business-appropriate goodbye before turning around to make your way to your desk. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Jeno seemingly waiting for you back behind the reception area. Suppressing your lovestruck grin, you approached your friend and started meandering back to your desks with him.

“Who was that, Y/N?” He nodded back towards the lobby.

“Mr. Na, the corporate client of Ms. Haseul’s I was telling you about earlier,” you desperately tried to keep your voice level and nonchalant as you talked about Jaemin. “I said I had a client meeting this morning.”

“And I was expecting like an eighty-year-old man,” Jeno snorted. “That guy looked like he was—I don’t know maybe five, ten years older than us at the most?”

“I’m… sorry to disappoint you?”

“But like something was… off about him. Right?”

“What?”

“You know how people say that one actor looks like a haunted Victorian doll?”

“…Yeah.”

“He kind of looks like that but— what’s older than the Victorian era?”

“I don’t know? The Dark Ages?” You suggested, looking at him with a raised eyebrow as you could only imagine where the hell this conversation was going.

“Yeah!” Your friend’s eyes lit up mischievously. “He looks like a possessed doll from the Dark Ages that’s had like five unsuccessful exorcisms done on him.”

“Oh my god Jeno.”

“Oh come on, you can’t say I’m wrong!”

“I can say that this is an extremely unprofessional thing to be saying about a client.”

“Oh look at you Ms. Professional Paralegal who isn’t disagreeing with me,” he snickered. “Anyway, you seem to have good rapport with him.”

“What do you mean?” You could feel your back stiffen with alarm. How long was Jeno standing there in the lobby watching you and Jaemin? Had you done anything that belied the true nature of your relationship? If you did then Somi would have seen it too. God, you did not need to be the next topic of office gossip.

“Ms. Haseul let you have that client meeting on your own. Both she and the client must trust you lots. Congrats.”

Immediately, your shoulders relaxed, “Oh, thanks. Yeah, it’s going well.”

Monthly after-work drinks with your coworkers—the one you actually liked—had become part of your routine, one that you looked forward to. Almost as much as you looked forward to the myriad of ways Jaemin insisted you “made up” the missing time that you “owed him.” This time, he was preemptively making up the forfeited time, as he had spent the night before and was now staying the morning of.

Somewhere between starting your coffee maker and putting the last dish from breakfast away in the sink, you had been pinned between Jaemin and said sink, a warning not to mess up your work clothes breathed out in the narrowing space between your mouths. Your Hades hummed out his acknowledgement against your lips, kissing you so delicately your eyes nearly rolled out of your head. Of course he had to listen to you this time.

You pulled back from kissing Jaemin as you were about to make something between a quip and a complaint when you heard a click from your front door.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called out for you.

It all happened too quickly for you to attempt to do anything other than stare in horror at the scene unfolding before you. Lee Jeno stepped through your front door, turning around to close and lock it behind him. He was dressed for work in navy blue slacks and a light blue button up, looking down at his phone as he walked towards the kitchen. In your periphery, Jaemin looked between you and your friend with an eyebrow raised, not moving, but you couldn’t answer his unspoken question. It felt like you were outside your own body, watching a car crash about to happen and you couldn’t look away.

“I’m here! Ooh, something smells good, is that—” his words were cut short when he finally looked up from his screen just shy of the threshold to the kitchen, where you were frozen in place. Your rather lascivious place between Jaemin and the counter.

It took him an entire second to compute what was happening in front of him. Then he let out a yelp, which made you let out one of your own, a little less grating in pitch, but no less distressed. Your body was finally unpetrified, and you rushed to stand between your friend and your Hades.

“Jeno!” Your voice was half chastising and half bewildered. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

“You told me where your spare key is, said I could use it any time!” His voice was still raised and pitched up in surprise.

“I figured that’s how you got in; I’m asking why the hell you’re in my apartment right now!”

“To pick you up?” He jangled his keys that were in his hand, his car fob being on the key ring, “I’m DD for tonight.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “No, Jeno, I'm DD tonight.”

“No, I'm DD.”

“I am.”

“I’m— Wait this isn’t important, that’s Mr. Na!” He pointed behind you accusingly.

With a very visible grimace, you turned to looked behind you. Jaemin was leaning against your kitchen counter, hands resting on the edge on either side of him. With the focus now on him, he lifted one in a casual greeting, “Good morning, Jeno. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of good things, from Y/N.”

“Jeno, this is Na Jaemin. I’m seeing him,” you jumped in to do introductions, well aware that your voice was noticeably tight and tense. “Jaemin, this is Lee Jeno, my best friend since… it feels like forever at this point I guess.”

While your friend’s features did soften a little at how you had described him, when he had to reciprocate your Hades’ offer of goodwill, he turned suspicious again.

“Nice to meet you... uh, yeah, nice to meet you.” Jeno tersely nodded at Jaemin once before his eyes went back to you, serious. He wanted to talk. And clearly, you had a lot to talk about.

“Well, time to go to work,” you announced. “Uhm, let me grab my shoes and my phone, then I’ll be ready to go, Jeno. You don’t mind carpooling since you’re already here, right?”

“Of course not.”

Your Hades spoke up again then, “My tie is in your room, Y/N.”

The two of you had to shuffle by Jeno on your way out of the kitchen and into your bedroom. In your room, you groaned as you rooted through your closet for a pair of shoes.

“I am so sorry, Jaemin,” you whispered as you slipped on your shoes. “I had no clue he was going to come here this morning. I wanted the two of you to meet so differently.”

“It’s okay, angel,” Jaemin reassured you quietly as he tied his tie in your full-length mirror. “You said he’s your best friend, and that you and he have been able to talk through everything before. I think the two of you have got this. One lowly god isn’t going to come between the Terrible Two.”

You’d finished putting your shoes on and slipped your arms around his waist to watch him do the final adjustments to the black silk tie.

“You really believe that?” You murmured.

“I do,” he patted your hands. “I still need to get a tie clip. Now go, you can’t keep him waiting or he’s going to think we’re doing something more scandalous in here than what he walked in on.”

You rolled your eyes and let him go, knowing that unfortunately he was kind of right. As you went to walk away towards your door, Jaemin caught you by the hand, lifting said hand up so he could press a delicate, cool kiss to your fingers before finally letting you depart.

“Have a good day, Y/N. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jaemin.”

You grabbed a purse by the door of your bedroom and braced yourself for what was waiting on the other side.

Jeno was by the front door, arms crossed over his chest. He narrowed his eyes as he appraised that you were alone, “Where’s Mr. Na?”

“He’s not ready to go yet, he’ll lock up on his way out,” you told him.

And thus began your lying, your carefully chosen words to make Jeno come to certain conclusions, your bending of the truth, your ‘well it’s technically true’s. Truthfully, Jaemin would make sure your apartment was locked from the inside before disappearing from here and appearing wherever he needed to be with his god powers.

“He has a set of keys.” Jeno spat out as he opened your front door for you.

Your tone was resigned as you started towards the stairs, “Is there a question in there, Jeno?”

There were a silent few seconds as he mulled it over, then sighed, his voice much less harsh, “No, that was me being bitchy. Sorry.”

“Thanks.” The two of you began the descent to the ground floor as you continued, “And I’m sorry too. Like... really sorry. I know that must have been a lot to walk in on, you have every right to be shocked and hurt.”

“Right. Thanks, Y/N.” And you finally got a Lee Jeno smile again. It was only a small one, and it passed you by far too quick as he opened your car door for you to get in. But you saw your friend’s delightful little eye smile again, and it made you think that maybe, hopefully, Jaemin was right.

Jeno pulled away from the curb, and you kept talking.

“I also know that I haven’t been forthcoming at all about what’s been happening in my life, about who I’ve been seeing.”

“About Mr. Na,” Jeno’s words were blunt but there was no malice to them.

“Yes, about Jaemin,” you confirmed. “I’m sorry about that too. Please, please know before like anything else that we were dating for a while before he was ever a client. Those two things happened separate of each other.”

“Oh.” Your friend’s previously white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel softened. “That’s... better.”

“Like, I know that I’m being kind of stupid, but I’m not that stupid.”

“You said it, not me.”

“I want to talk about this with you more, but I really don’t think now, driving to work, is going to be able to provide us with the time nor the ability to process it. Can we get together some other time?”

“Good to see all the money you spent on that therapist after your last ex paid off,” he snickered.

“Hey, I’m trying to be an adult here!” You protested indignantly.

“No, no, it’s good,” he attempted to reassure you through poorly-suppressed chuckles. “Let’s see if we can pencil in our emotional friendship discussion re: your love life for 1:00 p.m. tomorrow?”

“I’ll have to check my calendar once we get into the office,” you rolled your eyes. Despite the fact that he was teasing you, you welcomed the light jesting, knowing that meant he wasn’t too upset at you in that moment. And he was legitimately trying to follow through on your offer of planning to sit down and discuss your issues with him, albeit with some jabs at you of course.

“Hey, since it’s about you fucking a client, do you think we can call it a business lunch and use the firm credit card?”

With the mood now officially lightened you joked, “Yeah, I’ll put that on Ms. Haseul’s expense sheet for the week and see how that goes down with Billing.”

“Shotaro would get a kick out of it at least.”

Your apartment was quiet and dark when you got home. Jaemin hadn’t arrived yet. Pushing down your disappointment, you changed into pajamas before going to your kitchen to browse for something to make for dinner. If Jaemin wasn’t here yet, then he probably wasn’t planning on whisking you to the Underworld tonight. Fine by you, that made getting to work in the morning easier. The first night you’d spent with him in Hades had been the perfect start to your romance and you definitely didn’t regret it, but the next morning was something straight out of a rom-com.

It was difficult for your phone alarm to go off on time when time zones didn’t really exist in the literal Underworld. So you ran into work exactly on time with unwashed hair, followed around the office all morning by nosy comments from Jeno and Yangyang about that and the blouse that you were tucking into your dress pants as you were stepping off the elevator— which Jaemin had to magically poof you into, having no time to take public transport. Oh and the embarrassingly obvious love bites on your neck that you couldn’t cover up in your haste to get ready; a combination of no time to apply makeup, and carelessly choosing a top whose neckline was cut lower than the marks.

The memory made you shake your head fondly now, months later, as you opened your fridge doors. You’d barely done so when a familiar cool breath blew over the back of your neck and shell of your ear.

“Jaemin!” You exclaimed, immediately closing the fridge again then whipping around to face the god. He had a mischievous smirk already playing on his lips. “It’s been a while since you’ve snuck up on me like that. You must be in a good mood.”

“Yes, I am,” he confirmed.

You cocked your head to the side, “And why is that?”

“Because...” he took a step forward, and you instinctually took one back, quickly pinned against one of the doors. His hips pressed against yours, holding you there as his lips found yours, then your jaw, then your throat. You hummed as he continued pressing kisses along your skin, looping your arms around his neck, your search for food entirely forgotten. His hands on your waist only drew you even closer—if that was possible—fingertips brushing under the hem of your t-shirt and leaving goosebumps along your skin.

Your Hades finally detached his mouth from where he’d been sucking and nipping a mark on your collarbone, “I’m going to take you somewhere.”

“Huh?” You couldn’t help the stupefied noise that came from you.

He was standing up straight again, so close that your noses were almost touching, and you saw yourself reflected in his deep, dark irises. You looked ravished, your own pupils blown wide, mouth parted to let the deep breaths from your heaving chest out, the collar of your shirt askew to allow Jaemin access to more of your skin.

“I’m in a good mood because we’re going somewhere. Go get changed.”

You tipped your head back as you let out a groan, shaking yourself back to reality, “Why are you literally the worst?”

He chuckled as he stepped back, allowing you to push off the appliance, “Because I can be. Now go get changed. Doesn’t have to be too nice, just better than your jammies.”

With a final roll of your eyes, you left the kitchen to do as he requested. You reemerged in the living room in casual going-out clothes, “This good enough?”

“Perfect,” Jaemin offered you his hand, which you took without hesitation.

He gently spun you around, and a giggle tumbled from your mouth as you were spun right into his arms, your back to his chest. You closed your eyes on instinct as he swayed the two of you to a non-existent melody, and you drank in the sultry notes of cedar, cinnamon, and blood orange that surrounded you. His hair tickled your cheek as he started peppering light ghosts of kisses to your skin.

“Alright, you tease, come on. You said we’re going somewhere,” you lightly elbowed whatever part of him was by your arm. His rib, maybe, or that could’ve been his arm. From where you were all wrapped up in him, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he started. And despite your words of complaint, you hadn’t yet opened your eyes or even attempted to wrangle yourself from his grasp.

“I know, we’re here.”

Curiosity won out and you squinted an eye open. Holy shit, this definitely wasn’t your apartment. With wide eyes, you looked around the huge living room Jaemin had brought you to. Plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows, large dining area that connected to a kitchen that was clearly built for entertaining. The entire place had an upscale mid-century modern feel to it, and you found your eyes drawn back to the huge windows.

“Where are we?” You questioned, still taking it all in.

“My place,” Jaemin said casually, and you could feel him shrug from where he was holding you.

“This isn’t the Underworld.”

“My new place on Earth. I just got it this week.” He took one of your hands to guide you over to the windows, “Come on, look at the view.”

Spread out below you was the entire city, all twinkling lights. If you unfocused your eyes they could almost be mistaken for stars in the night sky. Your Hades stood just behind you to begin pointing out landmarks, “There’s downtown, that’s the museum you took me to, your apartment should be over that way, and there’s the river way over there.”

“It’s amazing but… why did you get it?” You questioned him, turning away from the view to look him in the eye. He’d never expressed any interest in living on Earth whatsoever, any want to get a home here.

Jaemin walked back a couple steps to lean against the arm of one of the couches, bringing you with him by your hands, “Since Johnny and I have been doing more business up here, it’s good to have a home to keep up appearances.”

“And just how many business clients are you planning on inviting back to your place, Jaemin?” You raised an eyebrow, tone expressing your immediate disbelief.

He grinned up at you in your position standing between his legs, “You caught me. Just one, you.”

“I meant, why now?” You pushed on in the conversation, not so easily distracted. “Why get a place on Earth this week?”

“Jeno.”

“You got a penthouse for Jeno? How romantic, I’ll let him know.”

Your Hades let out a soft laugh at that, looking down at your hands that he was holding, his fingertips taking a moment to adjust your rings that were slightly askew. “The entire situation that happened with him really made me think about you, and about who I am to you. And I want to be more for you than I am.”

You frowned at his words, taking back one hand to cup his cheek and have him look up at you, “What do you think you are to me?”

“I’m a secret.”

“Oh, Jaemin…” You felt your heart breaking at the way he said it. Not in a fun, flirty way, but despondent, isolated. Before you could move to say more, hold him, do anything, he spoke again.

“That’s not passing any sort of judgement on you, angel,” he assured you, squeezing the hand he had in his. “I know the secrecy comes solely from who and what I am. I know there are some things that we'll never really be able to tell everyone. And I don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully understand how much I love and adore you for keeping that between us.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, afraid that if you tried to speak in that moment, you’d cry.

“But I still want to be someone that you can introduce to your friends, to your family. Someone that you don’t have to agonize over keeping secret from them. I want you to get to have at least some of that, and I want to do as much as I can to help. I figured having my own place on Earth wasn’t a bad start.”

“Oh… I understand,” you held his face between both your hands, taking a step closer to narrow the distance between you two. He now had to crane his neck up to look at you. Clearing your throat and blinking a couple tears away, you smirked down at your Hades, “You want to be shown off.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, not a hint of bashfulness in him despite the coy words.

“Gladly. Starting with a dinner party here I think.”

“I’ll cook.”

“Penthouse and you cook? Careful, it’ll turn from an honest meet-the-boyfriend into shameless bragging.”

His hands that had previously been resting in his lap now gripped the sides of your thighs, “Oh, we both know you’re as shameless as I am.”

“Maybe so. But we’re only inviting friends of mine, no coworkers other than Jeno,” you declared. “I may be shameless, but I’m not an idiot. Still need to figure out the work part.”

“Of course,” he acquiesced with a nod of his head. Apparently thinking that the conversation was over, he pulled you fully flush to him, mouth attaching to your collarbone. Seemed he wanted to finish what he’d started in your kitchen earlier.

But you couldn’t yet let yourself sink into the pleasure of your Hades’ lips, your mind was still ruminating on the previous issue, “And let me know if you have any bright ideas, by the way. It’s your fault I’m in this mess, after all.”

Jaemin pulled back from where he’d been kissing down your sternum, about to get to the neckline of your top, “I offered to work with another attorney, but you insisted we stick with you and Ms. Haseul.”

“You picked Kim & Moon in the first place.”

“I concede, my apologies,” he sighed, entirely removing his hands from you for a moment. “And I mean it.”

“Mhm.” Satisfied with his answer, you grabbed his shoulders and crashed your lips to his.

“But isn’t it just a little fun?” He teased, giving your bottom lip a playful nip. “Knowing that you’re—gasp—seeing a client? Sneaking around?”

You groaned at the interruption, attempting to tug his suit jacket off, talk, and kiss him all at once. “I was seeing you—” kiss “before you—” kiss “were—” kiss “a client.” Kiss. “But yes, maybe a little.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Suh,” you greeted the goddess brightly as you crossed the room to sit across the conference table from him. “Just you today?”

The other half of Olympus Investments had called pretty much as soon as the firm had opened that morning, requesting a meeting with you as soon as you were available, and you did happen to be able accommodate him that afternoon.

“Jaemin doesn’t know I’m here.” He shifted forward in his chair, looking you in the eye so intensely you couldn’t hold the eye contact for long.

You were a little confused as you laid out your materials in front of you, “Okay... Well, what did you wish to speak with me about? Somi emphasized that this was an urgent matter. Was there something the matter with the documents I sent for your review yesterday?”

“I am so sorry, Y/N...”

Your eyebrows shot up at his words, the forlorn tone he said them in, and at the fact that this was the first time Mr. Suh had addressed you by your first name. “For what, sir?”

“That Jaemin’s done this to you.”

“I don’t understand. What has Mr. Na done?”

“Taken your soul.”

His words made you immediately sputter out, “What are you talking about? I’m sorry, I don't underst—”

“Dinner the other night wasn’t the first time you two have met,” the goddess in front of you declared, gaze piercing you as he changed from despondent to stern. “What did you ask for, Y/N? What was worth your soul?”

“I didn’t sell Jaemin my soul!” You sighed in exasperation, fully dropping all pretenses now. “All he wanted was for me to spend some time with him.”

“And what did you want?”

“A job.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s all I asked for.”

“I’m sorry about all this, Y/N. All the jewelry... I get worried.” His gaze was still appraising you, and you could tell that you didn’t quite have him convinced.

“Oh,” you twisted the plain silver band you’d first been given around on your finger nervously. “I mean, he did give me all this too, but I didn’t ask for it.”

“Why would he...” Mr. Suh’s eyes fell to the pomegranate jewel sitting below the hollow of your throat. “Ahh... I get it.”

“Get what?” You asked cautiously, now self-consciously fidgeting with the pendant once again.

“That’s a lovely color.”

“Uhm, thank you. But I can tell you mean something else by that.”

“Ha,” he chuckled, leaning back in his seat but keeping his eyes on your necklace. “He’s courting you, isn’t he?”

“Uh that might’ve been what you called it in 300 BC or whenever, but now we call it dating.”

“No, honey. I may be… old-fashioned but I know the difference between dating and courting. Jaemin does too. Do you?”

“What?”

He nodded towards your necklace, “Ask him about the meaning of that color next time you see him.”

Your skin prickled uncomfortably; you didn’t like that Mr. Suh apparently knew more about your relationship than you did. “Did you have any actual business for me, Mr. Suh?”

“Oh, no. I’ll get out of your hair now. Sorry, hon.”

You stood up as he did, showing him out wordlessly to the lobby.

Walking into work some weeks later, you saw Jeno, Yangyang, Kun, and Sicheng gathered around yours and Yangyang’s desks. Not too unusual of a sight, especially considering the matching coffee cups they all had.

“Good morning, boys,” you greeted the four of them brightly, setting all your stuff down on your desk.

When you looked up from where your fond gaze had lingered over your keys, the shiny new one to Jaemin’s place on Earth there, you were met with silence.

“What?”

“Here, uhm, it was my turn to buy coffee this week,” Yangyang handed you a cup from the shop down the street from the firm.

You took it, a little alarmed that he wasn’t doing his usual complaining about being “forced” to buy coffee for “the bourgeois” (Kun and Sicheng) when they could definitely afford it and truly he was just being “exploited” (despite the five of you all rotating out who bought coffee for the group once a week).

“Uh, thanks,” you took a sip, not liking his wide eyes, Kun’s pained ones, Sicheng’s inquisitive gaze, and Jeno’s knowing look that usually meant the two of you needed to talk ASAP. “Okay, what, you guys?”

“Ms. Haseul wants to see you,” Yangyang was still speaking.

“Okay…”

That wasn’t unusual, you were her paralegal, you frequently were called into her office by yourself to have discussions and they never garnered reactions like this from your coworkers.

Kun rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, calmly explaining, “She told Yangyang to have you come into her office once you arrived regarding an issue on the Olympus Investments file. Said to make sure you knew it was urgent and severe.”

Your grip tightened on your coffee cup. Jeno’s jaw clenched as he gave you a very much ‘I told you so’ look.

“Then why the fuck did you guys make me play 20 questions with you if it’s that fucking serious? God, I have to go see her!” You set your cup down, briefly checking the phones to see if she was on a landline call. Her quick dial button wasn’t lit up, meaning that she wasn’t, and you grabbed a notepad and pen just in case. Maybe this was about something solely work-related, and not about you seeing a client and breaking company policy. One could only hope.

After speed-walking down the hall, you stopped outside her door to listen for a moment for any sign that she was on the phone or had someone else in her office. It was quiet, and you took another moment to inhale deeply through your nose, then exhale, composing yourself. Rapping your knuckles on her door, you waited for her reply.

“Come in.”

You opened the door, bowing your head respectfully, “Good morning, Ms. Haseul. Yangyang told me you wanted to see me regarding Olympus Investments.”

“Yes, sit, Y/L/N,” she gestured to one of the chairs across her desk from her.

You could feel her sharp eyes on you as you did so.

“I’m going to get straight to the point. Out of gratitude for the work you’ve done in your time here, I’m going to ask you only once and I of course expect the truth. Are you romantically involved with Mr. Na Jaemin?”

To your credit, your jaw didn’t drop. Part of you was expecting this, of course. You breathed in, taking a moment to think about how to phrase your response, “Yes, Ms. Haseul.”

She sighed, taking her glasses off and setting them on her desk. As your boss rubbed her brow and remained quiet, you felt anxiety creeping up through your veins.

Figuring that you were as good as fired anyway, you at least wanted to know how long you’d been made for, when and where you went wrong. “Ma’am? May I ask when— How long you’ve known?”

“Y/L/N…” She clicked her tongue and leaned back in her chair. “I’ve known the whole time. And I know you’ve been seeing him since before he became a client of ours as well.”

“I’m so sor—”

Your boss cut you off with a wave of her hand, “Don’t apologize, please. Aside from not telling me the next business day as you should have, you’ve been incredibly professional about this the entire time. Honestly, nothing about your behavior or work product is how I know.”

“Then how?” You asked, brows furrowing together.

“The first client dinner we had with Mr. Suh and Mr. Na. When we went to greet them, I caught a whiff of Mr. Na’s cologne, and it was remarkably familiar to me. Because you’d come in to the office in the mornings frequently smelling like it before that dinner.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but… why wait until now to address it?”

“Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t know how to bring it up?”

You were nearly speechless. It was hard to imagine Ms. Haseul not knowing what to do.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“Anyway, like I said, you’ve been the model of professionalism; your client relations—in the office—have been impeccable, and your work product is the same high quality I expect to see from my employees. We of course need to address that you did not inform me of this conflict the next business day as is firm policy, but I see no reason to take any further action than that nor remove you as case manager for Olympus Investments.”

“Ma’am?” Now your jaw was on the floor, your eyes practically bugging out of your head.

“Both Mr. Na and Mr. Suh report being incredibly satisfied with your work. Therefore, as long as that continues then I am fine with having you stay on as their case manager, with your conflict of interest being properly noted in the file, of course. But as soon as any issues arise or you feel as though your conflict is affecting your ability to do your job, you will report that to me. Do you understand, Y/L/N?”

“Of course, Ms. Haseul,” you bowed your head as deeply as you could from your seat. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re dismissed, Y/L/N.”

“Right. Thank you again, Ms. Haseul,” you leapt to your feet, bowing once more now that you were standing before exiting her office.

Walking back out to where your desk was, the guys were exactly where you left them, clearly pretending to be doing anything else other than waiting to see if you got fired. Jeno, however, immediately zeroed his focus in on you as you approached them, the others soon joining suit to varying degrees of shamelessness.

You gave them two covert middle fingers down by your sides, “Fuck you guys, I still work here.”

“Oh thank god,” Jeno breathed out as you fully entered the pod of desks, pulling you into a hug.

“Hell yeah!” Yangyang jumped to his feet to join in, squeezing the two of you with reckless abandon. “The Atrocious Trio lives on!”

“Did you just invite yourself into our friendship, Yangyang?” You asked incredulously as Jeno shoved him out of the group hug.

You had just finished relaying the news to Jaemin that night—that Ms. Haseul knew, and had known the whole time, about your relationship—over dinner at his place on Earth. He claimed he wanted to test out some recipes before you had your meet-the-boyfriend dinner with your friends there.

Truly, it was a relief to have this weight off your chest, but that didn’t make it any less mortifying to relive possibly the most nerve-wracking meeting of your career yet. If you never had to feel like that again for the rest of your life, it would be too soon.

“Your boss is quite astute, huh,” Jaemin commented as he picked up your empty plate to start cleaning up after dinner, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Real bloodhound, that one,” you muttered, standing up as well to grab the drained wine glasses. “And I can see that smirk, Jaemin.”

“Damn,” he clicked his tongue as he began washing the dishes, fully letting his dashing grin overtake his features. “Nothing gets past you either, angel.”

“I’d say that’s why they hired me but—” you gestured at him vaguely.

“That’s why they keep you around, even after such a scandal.”

“You are so—” You cut yourself off with a sigh, feeling how big the smile was on your face as you came to settle in beside him, dish towel in hand, knowing that your words had no punch when paired with how adoringly you were looking at him.

You dutifully dried each dish he handed you until the kitchen was cleaned up. The two of you were in a comfortable quiet, your Hades humming softly as he finished washing up, then took the towel from you and dried off his hands. With your own hands free, your fingers habitually found the pomegranate red gem hanging from your neck. Johnny’s words bounced around in your head. You hadn’t brought it up to Jaemin after, wanting to mull it over with yourself for a bit longer first. Wait until you were in the right headspace to address what the hell that conversation was even about.

“Guess that means we’ll be having more guests then?”

“Huh?” You asked lamely, not following Jaemin’s sudden question at all.

“For dinner,” your Hades clarified, walking towards the bedroom, and you followed him down the hall as he kept speaking. “You didn’t want to invite any coworkers other than Jeno before. But since Ms. Jo told you she knows, you’ll be inviting coworkers, right?”

“Oh. Uh, I guess. Maybe the ones I get drinks with,” you answered absentmindedly. “Or just the team. I don’t know.”

“Think about it, angel,” Jaemin squeezed your hand briefly before dropping it and moving over to the dresser to grab lounge clothes. “Guess I should tell Johnny, then. Funny, goddess of love is the only one who doesn’t know.”

But you most definitely weren’t thinking about the guest list for some dinner as you two did your separate nighttime routines. Your mind felt like it was in another galaxy, wrapped up in flashes of dazzling obsidian black and pomegranate red, dancing in bergamot, cedar wood, and cinnamon sticks. Courting. You’d done your obligatory dictionary reading the same day as your meeting with Johnny: to have a romantic relationship with someone one hopes to marry. Not engagement, not dating, something in between, somehow less and more.

Your eyes got caught on the necklace again in the bathroom mirror, finishing up at your sink at the dual vanity.

In the bedroom, Jaemin was sitting up against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankle and the wall sconce on his side turned on to illuminate the book he was reading—a collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories, borrowed from you.

“Jaemin,” you called out for him quietly, leaning in the threshold of the bathroom.

“Yes?” He looked up at you attentively.

You nodded to the book in his lap, “Which one are you on?”

“‘MS. Found in a Bottle.’” Your Hades patted the spot beside him, “You want me to read for you, angel?”

“In a second.” You reached for your pendant. “Gems have meanings sometimes, right? In different cultures. Other than just being an expensive status symbol.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Yes. Why?”

“What about this one? The necklace you gave me.” You held it up, watching the dark red stone gleam as it caught the light.

He tucked his bookmark into the tome and fully put it aside on the nightstand, “Johnny’s spoken with you.”

“He came to the firm the other day freaking out thinking you’d taken my soul in exchange for riches,” you admitted, feeling a little guilty. “Sorry I didn’t uh, tell you before.”

“It’s okay. Sounds like you two had an interesting conversation.”

“Yeah. I told him that I didn’t sell you my soul for the jewelry, but he didn’t seem to believe me until he saw this one. Said to ask you about the color.”

Jaemin chuckled, “Mm, of course he did. The ego.”

You walked across the bedroom, stopping by his side of the bed. Tilting your head inquisitively, you asked, “Are you going to explain or just keep making cryptic statements, Jaemin?”

“Third option: Cryptic question. What color do you think it is, Y/N?”

“To me... it looks like fresh pomegranate seeds. Pomegranate red.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking when I gave it to you,” your Hades nodded, a tender smile overtaking his more cynical one from when he was talking about his business partner. “The meaning that Johnny wanted you to ask about. According to one version of a myth, the first pomegranate tree came about from Aphrodite’s mourning of the death of a lover. Pomegranate juice came to symbolize love.”

“I already know that you love me, Jaemin,” you told him frankly, taking a step closer to the bed.

“Well good, something would be very, very wrong with me if you didn’t.”

“And I also know that we’re going in circles around the point right now.” Another step.

“We are.”

“He specifically used the word courting.” Another step. You were now directly beside him, at his nightstand, casting a shadow over his face.

Jaemin looked absolutely delighted to be cornered, both in conversation and literally. He always enjoyed your dialogues like this, as did you, or else you wouldn’t participate. The pushing and pulling, the back and forth, it was the nature of you and your Hades, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because at the end of it, everything was always out on the table, laid bare, open and honest.

“You got me, angel,” he held his hands up in defeat. “I’m all yours, now and for eternity, if you’ll have me. And I don’t need an answer about eternity right now of course, but will you let me start trying to convince you?”

You wound the necklace chain around your knuckles thoughtfully, “I want you to tell me something, Jaemin, before I answer you.”

“An answer for an answer.” He was looking up at you with a familiar fond, tender smile, “Of course, angel, anything.”

There was something itching at the back of your mind, that never quite made sense to you, as you came to know your Hades better over all this time, fell in love with him, something that just seemed… out of place. Something he said that just hasn’t sat right every time you thought of it.

“Why did you want to spend time with me in the first place? Way back, the night we met, when you came to me to make our deal, I asked you why you would give me the job for just hanging out with you. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I remember everything about that night,” he admitted freely. “I told you I was tired of spending time with dead people.”

“And that was a lie,” you stated simply, softly, no anger or hurt in your words. Instead, there was a kind commiseration underlying them.

“Yes.”

“So, why did you want my time?”

“I was lonely.”

And you reached in front of you to grab your Hades’ hand, your lonely-no-more god, and you squeezed it tight between both of yours. “I owe you an answer now. Yes.”

Jaemin tugged you closer, making you momentarily lose your balance and fall forward onto his chest, your mouths just centimeters apart. Obsidian black was all that you could see, his eyes looking at you with nothing short of absolute devotion, divine worship, insatiable hunger. You pushed back that obstinate lock of jet black hair from his forehead before twisting your fingers in the strands at the back of his head and pulling his lips to yours. In the split second before your eyes fluttered shut, they caught the glint of a pomegranate red gem on his ear.

You were sat beneath the tree of golden fruit with your shadow man, the fruit you had picked still in your hands. With no hesitation, you dug your thumbs into the golden outer husk, splitting it in half. Inside were hundreds of bright red seeds, ripe, plump, glistening like rubies. Your mouth watered. Looking to your shadow man for reassurance, you were immediately given it.

You set one half down on your lap to dig into the other with your fingers. Bringing the first couple seeds you could get out up to your mouth, your tastebuds were immediately met with the ambrosial, saccharine, tart juice. They burst in your mouth, coating your tongue and dripping down the back of your throat. You went back in for more, eating handful after handful of the fruit’s plentiful seeds. Soon that half was emptied, and you grabbed the other that had been sitting in your lap.

You wanted more. Never had you ever wanted for something more in your life. Your fingers and hands were dripping red, and you could feel beads of the scarlet nectar running down your chin to your neck and down your sternum before disappearing into your top. But you still wanted more, wanted everything the fruit could give to you.

When you had finally finished the other half, you felt your want satiated. Your skin was sticky, and the white dress you were wearing had swaths of crimson red stains all over it. And your shadow man was still there beside you, and he finally touched you. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, encouraging you to lean against him, resting your head on his chest and letting out a sigh of relief.

His name tumbled from your lips then, something you’d always known. You’d always known him. An epiphany, a rite, a blessing, a hymn, a miracle, a prayer.

“Jaemin.”

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