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bluebeary-jay · 6 months

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Face to face

Din Djarin x f!Mandalorian!Reader

Summary: as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment

Tags: just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Din and Reader being insecure, they're sweethearts though and so in love, Din being a supporting husband <3, mandalorian customs are probably half-accurate but i did my best in research 😌

Word count: 3K

A/N: haiii guys!! long time no see 🤗 i had this idea ever since i watched s2 of the mandalorian almost a month ago and i'm finally done! thank you to all who stick around and i really hope you'll enjoy my first attempt at writing din (feel free to let me know what you think 🤭)! i love all of you darlings 🥰 and as always, happy reading!! 💕

Din Djarin wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he always wanted a family. The memories of his parents were hazy, but he remembered how much they loved each other and in the depths of his soul longed for a connection like this someday. Being the bounty hunter didn’t give many opportunities to look for a relationship, however, and with time he abandoned the hope for a place and people he could call home. He convinced himself that he was content being on his own.

But then the Child came along, and with it everything has changed. This little wrinkly womp rat became the most precious being in his life and Din was ready to die to protect Grogu – but he never expected that he’d also meet his future riduur because of the kid.

He did. You, a fellow Mandalorian Din spoke to only a couple of times in the hideout on Nevarro, decided to help him on his quest, and from this moment on he didn’t stand a chance. You were everything Djarin admired – brave, compassionate, skillful and kind – and though you both respected the Way of the Mandalore and never removed your helmets in each other’s presence, he knew in his soul that you were beautiful as well.

It was a long road to come to terms with what he felt for you and gather the courage to actually let you know it. But it was all worth it just for this moment when you exchanged your vows and he officially became yours, and you his. Now you were his riduur and he finally had every right to admire and cherish you like you deserved.

And most importantly, he could finally see you. The pair of you talked about this moment a lot during the nights spent on the Crest, tangling your fingers together when the ship was flooded with pitch-black darkness. Din used to whisper to you of his dreams, how he longed to run his eyes over your uncovered body, taking his time to commit to memory every little detail of your physique and expressions. You, with a giddy and wistful tone, told him how impatient you were to at last find out how his lips would feel on yours and what color his eyes were. Even when you both knew you were going to marry, you didn’t rush things and never removed your helmets until your union became official.

But you did see each other’s faces, once, though not in a conventional way. Din remembered it clearly as a day, though his eyes – as well as yours – were covered by a piece of a material the entire time. Both of you were desperate for each other that night, the tension hanging above your heads straining the resolve about waiting. And then came the moment when you didn’t fight it anymore. Instead, you both sat down on Din’s cot and without your sense of sight spent the next hour talking and trailing fingertips down each other’s faces.

Din reminisced about this moment a lot of times. He tried to remember the shape of your features to create a full picture of you in his mind while he laid alone in his bed, longing for your vicinity. Even if your bodies were separated only by the layers of beskar, it was still too far for him.

He didn’t have to wait any longer now.

It was the day of your wedding and Din Djarin never felt happier than in that moment when you recited Mandalorian vows and he got to touch your bare hand again, not covered by a glove, to put a custom-made ring on your finger. It wasn’t a necessary but he wanted to make this day memorable and meaningful for you. A few tears of joy were shed, but his face was still concealed by the helmet, allowing his emotions to take hold of him.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since the small ceremony (if one could even call it that) ended, and you squeezed his palm every few steps as you walked toward a house that was going to be your home for the next couple of days. The Child was being taken care of by other Mandalorians so that you could be completely alone for this special moment.

You were buzzing with excited energy for the whole week prior to your wedding, but now Din could sense his partner’s nervousness. He wasn’t exactly surprised – after all, it has been years for both of you since anyone saw you without your helmet on. But with every moment that you neared the bedroom, you seemed more insular, more withdrawn and hesitant, and Din started to really worry.

“Are you okay, cyar’ika (darling)?”

You slowed down, not answering right away, which caused Din to furrow his brows with confusion. Maybe you didn’t want to do it after all? Maybe it was too sudden for you? Or maybe he came off as too eager?

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated softly, wanting to put you at ease – but it didn’t seem to meet the target. “If you’re not ready…”

“No. No, I’m ready. I just…”

You trailed off. Din wordlessly guided you to the edge of the bed, cradling your hands in his – one gloved one and one not. The light of the setting sun flowed in through the small window and reflected off the hard beskar you both wore, bathing your figure in a beautiful golden light.

He was already so in love with you. What could possibly be the cause of your hesitation?

“I’m just nervous,” you murmured at last with your head bowed, looking at your joined hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” the Mandalorian repeated before he could think, and shook his head slightly. “What are you… What are you talking about? Why would I ever be?”

You lifted your gaze, and though Din couldn’t see your eyes, he could almost feel the weight of your fears on his own shoulders. The modulator in your helmet was hiding any trace of it, but he knew you long enough to recognize the tiniest shift in your body language.

“Ner kar’ta (my heart). I could never be disappointed with you.” He laced his fingers with yours, once again admiring how perfectly they fit together, and lifted them to his chest. “You own my heart and soul now, and nothing will change that.”

He hoped to soothe your nerves, but you were still silent. It wasn’t at all what Mando was expecting from this evening and he was at a loss for what to do to fix it.

“Would it help if I showed you my face first?” he asked after some time, and your head snapped up.

“No.” Even with the modulator, your voice clearly sounded broken and regretful, and it was wounding Din more than anything else could. “We were supposed to do it together.”

“We can,” he assured quietly, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “But the most important thing to me… is for you to feel comfortable during it. If you want to wait–”

“I don’t.” You untangled your hands from his hold and instead brought them to his chest, placing them on the beskar breastplate. He couldn’t wait to take it off and feel your touch on his skin. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t marry you and make you my riduur.”

You leaned forward and lightly bonked your helmets together, a sweet gesture Din loved since the first time you did it.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum or’atu an mayen. (I love you more than anything.) More than life itself.”

“I know,” he answered simply and delicately brought your hands to the edges of his helmet. It was obvious what he was offering you. “That’s why I’m willing to do it for you.”

You were still, not daring to move, and Din nodded slightly to show you that he’s certain of his decision. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, though, and he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Showing your face to others was one of the worst crimes in Mandalorian culture, but doing it with your riduur was the highest honor that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. But Din Djarin was among the lucky ones. Even though it was not in a way he always imagined, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.

You gripped the edges of his helmet tighter and a high hiss sounded, a telltale sign that the metal piece was ready to be removed. And slowly – so very slowly – you did. Din felt a flow of cooler air on his hot skin: first his chin, then his cheeks, finally his forehead…

And lastly, he inhaled shakily before lifting his head to look into the void of your visor.

A second passed by. Then two. Then ten, though Din felt like it must’ve been a full minute now. And still you didn’t move, just watched him silently, motionless as a statue.

The Mandalorian swallowed with difficulty, starting to feel very self-conscious. The crisp air cooled the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he had to use all his self-control not to fiddle his fingers nervously. He felt so naked and exposed under your gaze, though he absolutely shouldn’t – you were his riduur and there was no reason to feel ashamed or insecure with you. But he couldn’t help worrying: what if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you didn’t find him attractive at all?

Then a movement of your hands drew his attention and he watched, transfixed, as you slowly started to take off your glove, tugging one finger off at a time. Once your hand was freed from the confines of the protective material, you flexed your fingers before lifting both of your palms to his face.

Even though Din was acutely aware of your every move, he still somehow flinched in surprise at your touch, causing you to freeze and search his eyes with the air of concern around you. He quickly gave you a small nod, silently begging you to proceed, and, thankfully, you did. Your fingertips traced his cheeks, so delicately it almost tickled, brushing down the path to his stubble, and then back up to the arch of his nose and eyebrows. Djarin’s eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a shaky breath, giving in to the most amazing sensation that your touch was.

“I knew you had to be the most beautiful being in the galaxy,” you whispered from under your helmet with a voice filled with a plethora of raw emotions. Din regretted not being able to see your face at that moment, but if it would help you feel more comfortable in such a memorable and important situation, he was ready to do anything for you.

“I’m sure you’re a million times more radiant, cyar’ika,” he said back. His voice was weirdly weak and raspy, sounding strangely to him – probably because he knew there was another person hearing him without his helmet on. “Even if I don’t see your face, mesh’la (beautiful), today or ever… The love I have for you will never change or waver. That I promise.”

“It won’t exactly be fair to the Creed if I don’t remove my helmet in front of my husband,” you answered, half-teasing, but Din knew there was a real worry behind your words.

“You know very well there’s nothing said about it in the Creed.” He opened his eyes, offering you a small smile. “And I don’t remember our vows mentioning it, either.”

You clicked your tongue with exasperation, but Din also saw your shoulders relaxing, a sign that some of your nerves ebbed away.

“Gev bic (stop it),” you laughed, letting your hand fall down – but before it could happen, Din caught your wrist and lifted it back to his face. He slowly kissed the inside of your palm, down to the veins disappearing under your sleeve, his eyes fixated on your visor the entire time. His smile grew slightly when he felt a shiver run through you.

“I love you, ner kar’ta,” he whispered. “Even if you’re a half-Hutt under your armor.”

“Don’t push it.”

You let go of his hand and Din’s face fell, fearing that he really went too far. He reached for you but stopped when you straightened up and took a deep breath, your hands going to the last thing that separated you from him – your helmet.

He held his breath and his heart beat erratically as he watched you. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss the moment when he finally got to see your face. Just the fact that you were willing to do this meant so much to him, but…

Slowly, you took your helmet off and placed it down on the mattress right next to his. Then, a pair of irises gazed into the depths of Din Djarin’s heart.

…you were wrong.

Oh, how wrong you were.

There was no mistaking it that you were by far the most breathtaking sight the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on.

The Maker must’ve been overly generous, or maybe favored you, for looking at you… it felt like coming home.

You stared at him with gentle, tentative eyes of the most beautiful color in the world, and Din would’ve gladly lost himself in them. Your lips, so tempting and soft-looking, were parted slightly as you awaited his reaction, but he couldn’t move. He just watched, spellbound, and wondered if this truly is reality and not some cruel, elusive dream.

He hadn’t felt such awe even when he saw Grogu doing his magic for the first time. Hadn’t felt such elation even when a new skin made of beskar was forged just for him. Had never before felt such love in his life.

You were a wonder. A miracle.

“Cyare?”

Your voice sounded almost fearful to your ears, but you couldn’t help it – Din seemed unable to utter even a word, and panic started to flood your veins when you noticed tears gathering in his dark, beautiful eyes. “Din–”

But before you could move away, he slipped off the bed and knelt by your feet. You were so taken aback by this action that you didn’t even react when he cradled both of your hands in his and pressed lingering kisses to your fingers, one after another.

“If I could, I’d marry you all over again,” he rasped, meeting your gaze with so much love and adoration in his brown eyes that it took your breath away. “How did I get so lucky…?”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you let out a breathless laugh of relief, your pupils darting across the lines and grooves of his face. “You… you’re not just saying that, right?”

“Cyar’ika, look at me.” He gently tilted your chin up, making your eyes meet his. For a second he faltered, parting his lips in wonder at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, before he swallowed and gazed at you again. “Do you doubt my words?”

No. There was really no questioning his motives. You knew Din was as honest as one could be and there were only your own insecurities at play here. But the longer you looked at him, his expression so full of love and devotion, the less relevant your own doubts were becoming.

You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you whispered instead of answering, and his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. “Can I–?”

The Mandalorian didn’t even wait for you to finish – the second those words left your mouth, he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours forcefully, eliciting a surprised sound out of you, which soon turned into a needy whimper. You didn’t give him a chance to back away and instantly tangled your fingers into his hair, moving clumsily to be closer to him.

But when you attempted to climb onto his lap, your breast plates collided with a metallic clank, forcing the pair of you to put some space between you. Din huffed with frustration, while you laughed and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’re quite impatient for a bounty hunter,” you accused him playfully, nudging your nose with his. You took a deep, calming breath, wanting to surround yourself with the smell of him completely, but your riduur didn’t let you indulge for long.

He moved quickly and, without a warning, kissed you briefly again – and then one more time. It was more like a light peck, and you longed to feel his tongue inside your mouth once more, but at the same time relished in every sensation that his lips brought. Every touch he gave you was something infinitely precious.

“I’ve waited longer than you,” he murmured. His hands were already moving, taking off the beskar on his forearms and shoulders, reaching where he could without removing you from his lap just yet. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, cyar’ika.”

You smiled widely and looked up from his deft fingers to throw another teasing comment, but in one second you lost your train of thoughts.

Because Din was blushing.

The feared Mandalorian’s face – a face you were finally allowed to see whenever you desired – was sprinkled with redness across his cheeks and ears. And you were the cause of that.

The thought of it almost caused your eyes to water.

“What are you looking at, mesh’la?”

Your eyes found him again and you smiled brightly, causing Din’s heart to skip a couple of beats.

You took his stubbly chin in-between your fingers and brought his lips closer, planting a soft kiss there that had the Mandalorian melting. He covered your hand with his, feeling the band on your finger under his own.

A miracle.

“I’m looking at you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fic #this man needs to be PRAISED he needs to be LOVED and CHERISHED !!!!!#imagine having pedro pascal's face and still being insecure 😔 /j

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kirjavas · 11 months

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If you start behaving like a grown up, the spectres will get you. I'm just trying to imagine what you'll look like when you're older.

#they both grew up but will never see each other grow old...#flinging myself into the abyss #his dark materials #hdm #hdmsource #lyra x will #lyra belacqua #lyra silvertongue #will parry #bbc his dark materials #hdm spoilers #s2e1 #s2 #s3e8 #s3 #hdmedit #my edits #favourites #lyra and will

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

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cold nights // part six

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i just finished writing s1, and we're halfway through! so in case anyone was wondering, s1 will have 12 parts :) i haven't started s2 yet but i am so excited to!!

series masterlist // playlist

Days passed, no sign of Coryo. The only reason you know he isn't dead is because Sejanus came and told you he would be alright. That didn't do much to quell your worries.

Selfishly, you were scared you wouldn't get to see him again. You knew you wouldn't, actually. Now you were truly alone. Just you and his blanket, the book he gave you, and the dress your mother made. And Sejanus Plinth, you supposed. None of the surviving tributes would even talk to you- not that you really felt like talking. Just reading. You've read and re-read Romeo and Juliet no less than three times since Coriolanus passed the book through the bars to you the night before you went into the arena.

"I know you asked for this, and it's a little early, but happy birthday." Coryo whispers, smiling as the dark of night encases the two of you into your own little world.

He hands you a small box, wrapped in parcel paper and complete with a ribbon made of some kind of knitting thread. You grin, taking it from his hand and carefully untying the bow, delicately pulling the paper apart where it's taped together so as not to rip it. A copy of Romeo and Juliet. Old, tattered, falling apart; well-loved.

"Oh, Coryo, you didn't have to give me anything. That's too sweet." You grin, immediately flipping through the pages despite the dark preventing you from seeing a single word. "Thank you."

"Of course." He says, watching only you as your eyes flick over the pages. What little light falls from the moon is reflected in your eyes, and he wouldn't dare look away.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." You say softly, and at first, he thinks you're talking to yourself until you look up at him. A small, almost shy smile fit perfectly onto your lips.

"You like it?" He asks, the answer obvious even to him.

"I love it."

You were his tribute. Not a friend, certainly not more, but as he reaches through the bars to let his fingers brush over your cheek all rational thought means nothing. He doesn't realize he's staring at your lips until you comment on it.

"Is this why you asked if I have a boyfriend?" You whisper, your natural smile returns, and he's quickly looking anywhere else. Your eyes, your hair, the spot where his fingertips meet your cheekbone just below your hairline. Anywhere else. "Because I know it wasn't on that list of questions."

He's quickly backtracking, dropping his hand. This was wrong and he knew it. "I, uh, Tigris made you some cake. It's not good, but it's the best we could do." He says, redirecting his attention to his bag as he pulls out the small paper bag.

You sit back, blushing furiously. "I'm sure it's delicious." You smile, and it comes across more nervously than you intended.

"Here." He hands it to you, and you gently place the book next to you on the ground so you don't get any crumbs on it. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

And just like that, he's gone.

You're grateful when you see Sejanus coming back with his bag of food and water. It had become some form of a routine, at this point. The citizens of the Capitol weren't allowed to bring you food anymore, he was the only one who did for you now that Coryo was gone, and now that his tribute had escaped as well.

"Sejanus." You smile, standing up as he gets closer.

"Y/N. Holding up okay?" He asks, a sad look behind his tired eyes. He looked almost as tired as you, you were sure, but you hadn't seen a mirror since you left your house before the reaping.

You sigh. "I'm holding up." You answer simply. Sejanus is the only person you feel comfortable being totally honest with, but at the same time, you don't want to because you know he already feels bad for what you're going through. He's the only one outside this cage who kind of understands. "How about you?"

"I'm alright." He shrugs, reaching into his bag and pulling out a sandwich for you. You could never get sick of these. "I also have salt, if it needs more of that." He hands you a small bag of table salt alongside it.

"Thank you." You grin, tucking the bag into your pocket incase you needed it. "Any news about Coryo?" You ask hopefully, taking a bite. You already feel your starvation-induced nausea fading away.

"Not really. He's recovering, though." Sejanus answers. "Are you ready for the interview tonight?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You grin. "I was right, I didn't need the book. I already had the whole thing memorized, but it's been so lovely to get to read it again."

"It must be." He nods. "Gives you something to do."

You hum in agreement, looking around at the other tributes. No one is even moving much anymore. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

You look down at your sandwich while you think about how you want to word this. "Is Coryo..." No, that's not it. "I got the feeling that he actually cared for me. Is that true?"

"Coryo has never been one to tell anyone what he's thinking." Sejanus says, entirely unhelpfully. That's not his fault, though. "But if I had to guess, I would say yes."

"I'm just wondering because it's nice to have friends now. Here. At the end." You smile sadly before taking another bite. "And I was worried I had upset him."

"You? No." Sejanus shakes his head. "I don't think you could if you tried."

"Why's that?"

"Well... It's hard to explain. He's always been super focused on school, on the prize, but now, when it matters most, I feel like he's more focused on you and making sure you actually win." He tells you. "But, like I said, he wouldn't talk about it even if I asked him outright."

You nod. "Thank you, Sejanus. For always being honest with me."

"Of course. It's the very least I can do, all things considered."

"Can I ask you for one more favour?" You ask hopefully. "If not I understand, you must be quite busy."

"I have the rest of my life to be busy." He shakes his head. "What do you need?"

"Will you tell Coryo thank you, for me?"

"Yes. Of course." He agrees without hesitation.

"And do you have a pencil and paper?"

Sejanus headed home for a while and then back to the hospital after his visit with you, armed with your note in his pocket to pass on to Coryo. He was hoping he would be awake right now, he had been so on and off the last few days. More grumpy than normal, and Sejanus could tell it was driving him up the wall that he couldn't go see you. But the interviews had already started, so he would get to see you soon- even if it's just through the screen.

"Tigris." He whispers, pulling back the curtain as he sees the familiar girl sitting at his friend's side. She hadn't left her cousin most of the time he'd been bedridden, she was there every time Sejanus checked in.

"Oh, hello." She whispers, smiling at him. "He's still resting, but he's feeling a bit better today I think."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." Sejanus agrees, taking the seat next to her. "I went to see Y/N. She's eaten. She doesn't look good, though."

Tigris nods, returning her gaze to her sleeping cousin and pushing his hair away from his eyes. It's not like he needs to see, but she would do it anyway. Just to make sure he wouldn't be annoyed when he woke up. "He's been worrying about her. I can tell."

"She asked me if she did something to upset him. Has he said anything to you?"

"No, nothing." She shakes her head, lip jutting out at the confusing statement. Nothing at all would indicate to her that he was upset with you, but it's entirely possible that stuck in that cage day in and day out you could quickly become paranoid about who you could trust.

"Okay, good. That's what I told her anyway." He tries to be quiet as he speaks, but the whispering wakes his friend anyway.

Coryo's eyes fly open and he gasps, eyes landing on the two of them sitting in front of him.

"Coryo," Tigris says softly, a small, worried smile on her face.

"Y/N?" He asks, his voice husky from sleep. "Is she-"

"She's alive," Tigris promises, gently rubbing his arm, landing her hand on his and squeezing it gently.

"Is she hurt?"

"Not badly." Sejanus shakes his head. "A few decent cuts and bruises, but she'll be okay. I brought her some antibiotics the other day so nothing will get infected." You won't be okay, they both know that, but you certainly wouldn't be dying from the minor injuries you sustained in the rebel bombing.

He nods, slightly, trying to sit up. "How long was I sleeping? What did I miss?"

"Another tribute died from injuries," Sejanus replies. "Everyone is still scared. No one will go see them anymore, I haven't seen any of the other mentors there either. But I've been feeding her. She's okay."

Coryo nods, wincing at the pain in his back as he moves. The burn was bad, but apparently, it was healing well.

"Marcus is still missing. I haven't heard anything about him. They're hunting him but I still think he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Coryo asks, rubbing his head with his free hand, Tigris still holding his other one. "They're still going ahead with the games?"

Sejanus just slightly shakes his head, looking away. Coryo knows that that is a yes.

"Oh no... Y/N.... She could've run," He mumbles. "But she saved me."

"I tried to convince her to. I did." Sejanus reminds him. "She wouldn't budge."

All heads turn as Lucky's voice on the TV catches their attention. "And now, our final tribute. I first met this young lady in the zoo not too long ago. From District Twelve, Y/N Y/L/N. Come on out here!"

Lucretius motions for you to step out onto the stage and you do, gently placing the book and the blanket you had brought with you on the floor in a neat pile before joining him.

"Lucretius." You smile. "It's good to see you." You're nervous in front of so many people, the audience in front of you is much larger than the small one you spoke in front of at the reaping, and being in front of a camera without Coryo by your side made you antsy.

"You as well, Darling. Now, I was told you had something you wanted to do for us so I'll just leave you to that. Charm us! Remember, the world is watching." He smiles, gently patting your shoulder before walking just out of view of the cameras. His statement was far from reassuring.

"Uhm..." You stare out at the audience, and suddenly you're scared you've forgotten the entire thing. You had to do well. For Coryo and his prize. He needed this. "I've become aware that not many people know this play." You chuckle, trying to hide your nervousness behind it. "But Romeo and Juliet has always held a special place in my heart and I want to share that with the world, before I go."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You wonder if Coryo is watching. He's not here, you're sure of that, but you do hope he gets to see. And he does.

He stands up as soon as your face first appears on the screen, declining help from both Tigris and Sejanus as he limps over to the TV, cranking up the volume. Your fate depends on this, he knows it, but he can't look past the blue tint under your eyes and the bruises that litter almost every part of your exposed skin. The cuts are what get him the most. Your knuckles are cleaned up, mostly, but red and irritated as you twist your hands together nervously in front of you. Same with the crude black stitches on your upper arm. Irritated, neglected by professionals, but at least it wasn't serious.

"Come on... You can do it." He mumbles mostly to himself, and Tigris reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder as the three of them watch.

"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Immediately, he is confused. He expected to be, of course, but he could also tell as soon as you started reciting it, after the first line, your confidence was coming back to you. This play was your safe space.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love; and I'll no longer be a Capulet." You look out at the silent audience as you speak, a smile forming on your lips. They're listening. "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: Thou art thyself, though not a Montague."

Coryo is wishing you had explained more to him about what this play is about. "What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, nor arm nor face nor any other part belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name." He should have asked. Why didn't he ask? You told him yourself that you could talk about it for hours. Why didn't he take advantage of that when he had the chance?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title." A rose. Of course a rose, was this for him? He longed to understand it better as he watched the donations tracker tick up and up toward the thousands.

"Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name, which is no part of thee," You take a deep breath for the first time since you started speaking. "Take all myself."

It was a beat or two before the audience clued in that you were done, and then the cheers started. A standing ovation, people wiping their eyes and clapping for you like you had changed their lives.

"Wow! Now wasn't that something, everyone!" Lucky laughs, coming back into the frame of Coryo's view from the camera. Tigris was in tears. The continual uptick of the donations counter was reassuring to him. As you smiled, cheeks flushing red. "The donations are just flooding in with a record high! That must feel good."

"Thank you, it does." You nod at Lucky, trying to place all your focus on him so you don't get too embarrassed in front of the crowd. At least you knew Coryo would be pleased. If you understood his prize situation as well as you thought you did, this was very good for him. "I just want to make my family and my mentor proud."

"You have a real talent. It's such a shame." The host says to you and you laugh awkwardly.

"Well, everyone loves something. I just loved books."

You continually referring to yourself in the past tense makes Coryo want to puke, looking away from the screen only briefly to take in the other nurses and patients watching too.

"We have just a few moments left, but I need to know, what is that about?"

"Oh! Well, Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy." You explain, back to yourself again. "It's about two star-crossed lovers from feuding families. So, what Juliet was talking about, to put it very simply because I could go on and on about this, was that she loved Romeo for who he was- not just his name or his family. It didn't matter to her that they came from different places. She loves him anyway, and if he couldn't let go of his family, she would give up her own life for him."

Coryo's eyes widen. So it was about him. He can't help the tug on his lips that threatens to form a smile.

"Alrighty then, that's very sweet." Lucky replies. "Now, you said it's a tragedy. What is so tragic about a love story?"

"Well," You chuckle nervously. "They both die at the end."

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teeny-tiny-revenge · 2 months

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Came across this in a fic again and I have to vent for a moment here: Ed's hair isn't unclean or not taken care of. Ever. Even at his lowest, in the first two episodes of season two, his hair is light and blows with the wind, it's got perfect waves, there is zero grime in it. Impossible Birds Ed hair has clearly been fairly recently washed, combed out and conditioned. Ed canonically loves soap, and you don't get that hair without owning a comb or brush and frequently working oil into it. He's at sea! The air is salty! It'll dry out your hair, but Ed's hair doesn't ever look dried out. The day he decides to commit suicide he puts his hair up into a lovely bun, with whispy stands framing his face. I have no idea what some people are watching, because Ed taking meticulous care (and most likely also putting pride and love) into his hair is clear, on-screen canon.

Like, if you want to write about how he was neglecting himself in his depression Kraken era? There's plenty there for you on screen as well! He sobs all night, probably sleeps on the floor if he sleeps at all. He doesn't wear his knee brace. He drinks and does drugs (and admits to that being poison to Frenchie!). He's pushing everyone away, he's pushing himself hard into a role that made him passively suicidal even before the breakup depression. He doesn't watch his back during raids At All. There's so much self harm there to address. If you want to, it would probably be plausible to add him not bothering to properly care for any wounds he might obtain during a raid. But he clearly doesn't neglect bathing and hair care. They're probably the only elements of self-care he actually still does during this dark time!

Even rock bottom Ed doesn't neglect his hair. And that says things about him! It's also something I'd love to see actually addressed in fic (will probably write it myself one of these days...): Taking good care of his hair, putting on jewelry, doing his makeup, these are things that seem to bring Ed joy or relief in his darkest moments. Where's my fic about these quiet moments of self-care being a straw he clutches to when everything else is terrible?

I love a good bathing together/doing each other's hair fic. It's intimate and loving! And Stede and Ed are prime material to write a mutual caretaking and bonding over it couple! Ed canonically loves soap and taking care of his hair! And Stede brought an entire fucking bathtub on a ship, the wonderful madman. S1 Stede's hair is always carefully curled, and we know that's not its natural state (it's wavy but not in this manner) from seeing him in S2, away from his certainly plentiful bath and grooming equipment. Stede probably has an hour of daily hair routine! We know he has nice smelling, probably expensive soaps. Where's the fic where they share in this?

There's so much potential! They can show each other their favourite care products! Sometimes they'll work on each other and sometimes not at all! Ed's rich hair oils will make Stede's hair all sticky and weird! Ed will think it's hilarious and adorable, he'll try to ruffle his hair and make it stick up worse and Stede will pout! 🥺 He'll look like this, just with weird spiky hair! One ill-advised day they try putting Stede's curlers in Ed's hair and then they almost can't get them back out because Ed's hair is so long and has lots of natural wave and it'll cling to the curlers and it's awful (they laugh about it afterwards, once Ed has very carefully brushed his hair out again and it no longer pulls at his scalp).

Makeup was a thing done by men and women at the time, especially for aristocrats (as seen in Episode 5), so Stede will know his way around hoity toity makeup, meaning rouges and whites (contained lots of lead, yuck!). Meanwhile Ed does pirate costume makeup for Blackbeard endeavours, that's a whole different thing. And both of these are makeups they don't actually enjoy doing (Stede avoids heavy makeup for the party, and Ed's Kraken makeup is part of his whole Everything Is Awful And I'm Making Myself Feel That look). But we see Ed do nice makeup that seems to be him! On his supposed to be final day on Earth, he cleans away all the Kraken coal, he cleans up his cabin, he gets rid of drugs, booze, Izzy (everything that was harming him), he does up his hair really nice and in a style that's very much Not Blackbeard, and he puts on a gorgeous bit of eyeliner that really brings out his eyes. And now that they're safe and happy together, when Ed decides he wants to look pretty today, not only can Stede lose his marbles over the look, Ed can also show him how to make his own eyes pop like that. They can stand in front of their mirror together, giggling and trying not to poke anyone in the eye.

Like. This is a fancy bathroom items for fancy bathroom items couple. They will bond over their love of bubble baths and nice smelling soaps and soft oils for hair and skin! They will learn each other's routines and how to do them just right for them. Let Stede learn that Ed loves his baths scalding hot (Stede has to wait a while for it to cool before he joins him in the tub because he'll get all pink and lightheaded). Let Ed learn how to put in Stede's curlers for him if Stede wants his hair to look extra fluffy the next day. Let Ed learn to massage Stede's back and Stede learn to massage Ed's knee. There's so much potential for loving caretaking with this ship. The trope doesn't at all require Ed to not know or not want to take care of his hair and hygiene. Fuck's sake.

#okay #bye #I can't believe we're still here folks #why were we ever there?#ofmd #ofmd meta #ed teach #stede bonnet #teeny rambles #teeny rants more like #🤨

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