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stevenbasic · 3 months

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Growing into the Job, Post 389: Snooping

Yeah, this is weird, I’m weirded out, I thought to myself, looking at what she now had on her shelf in her bedroom, I should be worried about this, right?

Okay, deep breath, let me back up a bit. The day had started strangely enough, with me waking up in my office. First there was the photoshoot, the lawyer attack, and then - after I’d seen a few afternoon patients with Lakshmi, running late after we’d normally close - I got dragged out of the office, nearly by my collar, by Melissa. We were going home, I guess. Her home. No arguments.

“Heh heh wh-what’s going on?” I had asked with a nervous laugh, having been unceremoniously thrown into the passenger seat of her beemer. She was speeding out of the parking lot, an unhinged look in her eyes. “Is this about the lawyers?” I asked. All she could tell me was that she’d seen something about Cici, heard something about Angie, and needed to get me home where I’d be safe.

“The lawyers are being dealt with,” she’d finished, cryptically, speeding breakneck down the highway, “I’m dealing with the lawyers.”

My knuckles had gone white, gripping the edge of my seat as we zoomed through traffic. Melissa was on edge, worked up, angry and anxious and yet more quiet than I’d seen her in some time, maybe ever. The nervous energy crackled off her; I could almost taste it. “Is everything okay?” I’d asked.

“Yeah,” she’d answered dismissively, glancing up into the rearview at someone she’d just cut off, “I just really need to work out.”

And so, when we got to her place, it was with few words that she’d ushered me inside, checked all the door locks and darkened the windows, ensuring we were safe. “I don’t really want to leave you alone but I really need to do this, get stronger,” she said, plainly - strange as the sentiment was. She made me promise I wouldn't go anywhere before heading downstairs to the home gym her mother had set up in the basement.

Okay, yes, I knew exercise was important to Melissa. Lots of people use it as therapy, to relax, or as an outlet. So I understood that after what must have been a trying day she needed to go hit the weights. I clambered myself up onto a stool at the kitchen bar as Melissa was working out downstairs. She’d poured me a quick glass of milk and thrown an unopened bag of chips onto the counter, in case I was hungry. I really wasn’t, but I tried to nibble, after struggling to open the bag. Yuck, these chips are terrible, tasted stale. I checked the expiration date. Fine. But still..blech. I pushed them away, swallowed some milk, and looked around.

For the moment, all was quiet. Had I been here, in this house, all by myself? Ever? Not really, I guess. I admired, again, the modern simplicity of this beautiful place. All whites and neutrals and natural materials. The kitchen was well-appointed, understated but with the latest in appliances. I hopped off my stool and drifted into the living room, with its soaring ceilings and attached indoor pool. I shivered as recovered memories of the weekend came back to me again: the girls, the sex, the - uh - near-drowning. Looking out to the attached, indoor pool, I decided I was going to stay away from the water.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but as I strolled into the hallway to glance at some more family photos. A small collection had been hung on the wall…

(Melissa had been a figure competitor as a teen? In Europe? She tended to be evasive about her childhood, growing up. But I’ve got to ask her about this)

I started thinking about what I saw in Amelia’s video, the girls growing bigger after I orgasmed. It still felt like a dream…or maybe a nightmare. Or a too-real fantasy. I don’t think I’d fully processed it all yet. I'd been telling myself it was impossible, but I figured it was time for me to start accepting all this weirdness. I needed to acknowledge the truth - and not just what happened with the girls. There was a whole list, a long litany of strange events: my divorce, my own shrinking, my new, implausible relationship with my young Office Manager, the too-perfect Melissa.

God, her growth, the abilities she was developing. The changes at the office, the expansion. The study and what the product we were trialing was doing to women. It was only fueling what I’d already seen, how women were becoming the dominant sex. Speaking of - what was happening to the government? To society? Not to mention to me? It was a lot, right? I wasn’t nuts to think so?

<CLANG!> I heard the sound of weights being lifted and dropped, noises coming up from downstairs. Lots, by the sound of it, lots of weight. How much was she lifting?

The noises shuck me out of my reverie, and that's when I decided that -. Despite my history of avoiding conflict and, well, reality, I couldn’t help but think that all these oddities were somehow related. So though I knew it would be easier to just hide my head and let shit happen, I decided it was time to investigate some of this weirdness myself. Was I at the center of some huge conspiracy, like I sometimes got the feeling, or was I just being crazy and paranoid? I figured I needed to look deeper, to confirm my own sanity and take back some agency in my life. I realized I’d recently just been a passenger as life spiraled out of control and into a tailspin. Besides,maybe everything was fine, right? I had to get to the bottom of this, get some answers - and prepare myself for what I’d find.

As I looked around I started to notice some things. Take, for example, these pamphlets. There was a small pile of them spread out on the table at the base of the stairs in the front atrium. It looked like they'd been tossed there by Melissa, maybe recently. I felt a tug. Something inside me told me I shouldn't read through them - I was definitely snooping - but I did. Now I can’t unread them.

Melissa had apparently been going to meetings here and there, along with some of the other girls. Had I known that? I think I’d known that. Similar to the ones Sheryl had been attending with Olivia for months, these women’s political support groups were super popular. I used to think they were harmless. Not anymore.

These pamphlets and hand-outs looked like take-aways from those nights, some slickly produced, others just stapled-together photocopies. I started to glance through them. Even just the titles: some of it was quite scary stuff. "Becoming Gynarchy: A Consultation on Future Policy Proposals" one of them was titled. They all seemed to have been produced by some think tank or marketing company, probably some fringe groups. An MLM or maybe a cult? These couldn’t be official, or mainstream, right? Like, this one titled "Looking at the Future: Males at Home" It was crazy. I browsed through the rest: "Economic Impact of Restricting Male Involvement in the Workplace", "Legislation and Leverage for a Better Tomorrow" and “Getting Bigger than Him: Nutrition, Exercise and High Heels”.

A little excerpt from “The Good Wife’s Guide to Taking Charge” : “He is experiencing feelings of insecurity and inadequacy because he is not the breadwinner. He feels like he is not contributing as much, and he is worried about how this will affect their relationship. He is starting to feel like he is not good enough, and he is not sure how to cope with these feelings.”

Sound familiar? In fact, here’s the whole next page:

But, yeah. There was a whole pile, and I couldn’t bring myself to really read them all. I skimmed through most though and god help me it was kind of arousing. But scary. Did women these days actually think this way? Did Melissa?? The thought made me shudder. If she had, even at the back of her mind, hopes for changes in the world like this propaganda promised, if she had plans for us derived from some of these pamphlets, what would the future hold for us? Was it healthy for me to stay with her? I know she loved me, and I loved her too. If the world did really change, maybe I actually would want someone like Melissa at my side, protecting me. Maybe I nee-

Suddenly I heard something, from the downstairs gym, below my feet. What the F was that?? It was primal, a loud bellow, and it made my eyes go wide. Was that Melissa…roaring?? And then - <<CLANG!!>>. Metal weights hitting the floor, shaking the house. What was she doing down there?? She’d wanted to work out some aggressions? Yikes.

I shuddered, suddenly aware of what I was doing and put down the pamphlet. Fuck, I was erect. I tried to ignore it. Maybe I’ll, uh, head upstairs.

I took each step of the staircase slowly. Did I really want to look around anymore? Should I quit while I was ahead? My fingers traced themselves up the bannister.

Wouldn’t it be easier if I just sat down, maybe on the couch, and waited for her to be done with her workout? When I got to the first landing, I heard that weird clock chime again. Was it seven PM already?

My feet kept moving up the stairs. I guess I’m doing this. More snooping. I found myself at the door to her bedroom, switching on the gentle, overhead can lights. Without her with me, and with the intent I had, I felt a little like an intruder. Even though she and I had spent the last number of nights together here (or had I slept in my office last night? I couldn’t recall), it still felt like I shouldn’t be here right now, doing what I was doing. I felt, in fact, a bit nauseous, and blamed it on the guilt. But nonetheless, here I was. I promised myself I’d only look around for a few minutes.

Of course, I have to admit my first instinct was to look through her underwear drawer. I was, though, able to resist my natural perviness - plus, her old teddy bear was sitting there watching me with its beady black eyes, from over on that chair, and it creeped me out. Instead, I glanced around the room.

On first inspection, it looked like a normal bedroom. Maybe decorated a little young, being set up by her mom with memoirs from Melissa’s earlier years. More pictures of Melissa as a teen. More stuffed animals. Those cheerleading pom-poms. Stuff I’d seen before. I went into the en-suite bathroom.

I’d wanted - call it the physician in me, my medical curiosity - to know what meds Melissa was taking. I know she went to this clinic at Evolution; did they have her on anything? Could she have been prescribed anything - despite what she’d been telling me - to stimulate her recent growth? Maybe there was something I didn’t know, that would explain things. So I opened her mirrored medicine cabinet, a built-in above a sophisticated sink of slick ceramic and natural wood.

Oh, jeez, I immediately lamented, poor Melissa. What I’d found - besides the huge array of cosmetics, creams and lotions - hadn’t been growth hormones or steroids or anything that would explain any growth. There were medicine bottles, yes, a bunch of them. Aripiprazole, Quetiapine, Clozapine, Iloperidone, Fluphenazine, Haloperidol. Antipsychotics, most of them. Big doses, too. I’d known, of course, that Melissa had some struggles with anger issues, and that her clinic visits involved some therapy sessions. But I hadn’t expected anything as extreme as-

I shut the medicine cabinet. I felt flushed. I might have overstepped.

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.

I went back into the bedroom. A green dress lay across the end of the bed, possibly something she’d considered wearing today. A small pile of shoes sat over by the door. There, uh, was a yellow bra folded up on her dresser, and another white one on the floor, looking recently used. The temptation to pick it up and breathe her in was strong. I thought, weirdly, that it might clear my nausea, and though it was tempting to try, with a little struggle I resisted. Her bed was unmade. A small garbage can sat overflowing with tissues. Hm. I never really noticed before but Melissa is kind of a mess, huh?

As I stood next to her curio shelves, her “Jay Shelves”, I couldn’t help but take a look. It was her collection of mementos, of me, of our relationship. I’d noticed this stuff before, and it still struck me as strange. Without her here to distract me and smooth things over it felt, in fact, a bit…creepy. Yes, there was the framed picture of me - cute, that she had that here - but there were also the candles. And the movie stubs, the lipstick-smeared t-shirt of mine. There were briefs, and tissues (ewww, those were…). I’d let her have a pair of socks; they were up there. The whole thing struck me as really odd. Like a kind of shrine, something a teenage girl might put together for a school crush or a celebrity. I should maybe have been worried, but goddamn me I couldn’t help but find it flattering, even if it seemed more than a bit obsessive. Looking back, I don’t know what was wrong with me. Why did I not see the signs? Honestly it was probably already too late.

My eyes caught on to a small scrapbook crammed full of papers. I slid it off the shelf. It was bound in red leather and had my name written across the front of it. As I opened it several scraps fell to the floor. I cursed as I squatted to pick them up. There were a few new photos of me: with her, candid, laughing. Another just of me. Another one. Another just of me, this one with a lurid red lipstick mark across it. There were papers, too, and another one of those pamphlets. The papers caught my attention first. She had, on the top of a piece of lined paper, written “Melissa + Jay” inside a bubbly heart. And then, underneath, she’d written a name…over and over and over. I gulped. She was like a school girl picturing us married and she wrote a name over and over again:

‘Jay Monroe’. It was scribbled on every square inch of that notebook paper.

She imagined I’d take her name. And she’d written it a hundred times, maybe more.

“Oh jeez,” I muttered aloud.

Next there was a chart of sorts, also in her handwriting. It had been done over time, the ink was different between many of the entries. It was a list of dates, and a list of my heights. She was charting how much I’d lost and - Jesus - the numbers were striking. The first entry was from back in August just three months ago, when she’d been hired. I’d been 5’11” and she’d logged it in. But then, a series of maybe a dozen dated measurements listed off my gradual decrease in height. The latest entry was - wait, what? Yesterday? When had I been measured yesterday? Had she done it in my sleep?? It said…

…4’9”. Oh my god. What’s wrong with me?

It was shocking, arresting. I mean, I guess I’d known I was under five feet by now, but seeing it all laid out like that, seeing in pen and ink that I’d lost more than a foot in a little under three months made it all too clear. I had a problem, and it was a big one.

She’d actually drawn a little smiley face next to a couple entries. Like here when I’d first dropped under five feet? My blood, which was already running cold, began to curdle. Yes, it was kinda the style these days for women to be attracted to shorter, weaker, more helpless men. The whole “vulni” thing and all, but this seemed downright…pathological. Yeah, this is weird, I’m weirded out, I thought to myself.

Did she want me to keep shrinking? Yes, I can understand how it could be sexy to her. I mean, dammit, it was a dark, secret, long-standing fantasy of mine, too, but…did she understand the health implications? Did she understand what it all really meant? Did she really want this to continue? Until I was…until I was..?

Well, let me show you this…

I picked up something else that had fallen out of her scrapbook. Another pamphlet, similar to the ones from downstairs. It seemed like something somewhere between a missive for a shady, unnamed, overseas self-help company, describing a “Program”, and a medical technology advertisement for products in development. It was labeled, on its cover, “TOP SEKRET!!” Much of it was actually in Cyrillic but the pictures were disturbing. Women, tall, some of them muscular. All impossibly busty. A few photos were of couples, with the men looking shriveled and tiny next to their Amazon-class partners. Some standing, seated or - good lord - held in their partner’s hands. Jesus this can’t be real, they had to be doctored. It was one of the final photos, though, that made me shiver.

Ewugh…okay, this was too much. This was too much reality. This was bizarre and terrifying. The pamphlet fell out of my hands as I suddenly became weak in the knees. My vision was swimming and a strong wave of nausea overtook me. If I didn’t do something I might…I might…

wait…

Where’s that bra?

With barely a thought I’d stepped forward towards the bras of hers I’d seen, the yellow one and the white. My world was spinning, and instinctively I was reaching for them. Instead of the neatly-folded yellow one on the dresser, I grabbed the white underwire from the floor. She’d just used that one, my racing, raving thoughts came, It’ll smell more like her.

In an instant I had it up, the huge cup of it over my face, and, with a big gulp of air - Ahhhhhhhh…! - I breathed it in. Her perfume, the scent of her skin, the now-familiar smell of her breast. The world was dark around me, the slick satin of the white bra cup plastered to my face. My eyes covered and flittering shut, I used both hands to hold it there, and I breathed her in some more. Immediately my stomach settled, and I felt so much better. Ahhhh… I’d barely registered it but at some point my cock had grown huge and hard in my pants and as a deep pleasure overtook me one hand drifted down to-

“What do we have here?” I heard the voice, deep and loud and only several yards away. It startled me and I jumped. My heart skipped a beat as I heard her voice:

“Is someone up here snooping?”

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Inspiration for the pamphlets came from Freddieclegg’s awesome story “Year One”, and of course thanks to RiF for editing

Post 390 on Patreon:

#growingintothejob

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artandshid · 6 months

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Family Matters Part 4

~Damn it’s been awhile yall, i’m sorry. I found this in my drafts and decided to finish this part, time can only tell when the next part will be. Life is crazy and I’m busy, and as much as I love writing, I sometimes forget that I do and I take a little break. But I hope people can still enjoy my writing and if you haven’t read the other parts, they’re in my masterlist.

“You’re just letting him waltz back into your life like nothing happened?” Steve exclaimed loudly.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You know deep down you’re doing the right thing. Maggie deserves to know her father. And she deserves to grow up with her father in her life. But you don’t appreciate people in your life making you second guess what so best for your daughter.

“I’m letting him into her life. Because this isn’t about me or you or Eddie. It’s about my daughter. Five years from now, I don’t want people teasing her about her father and her having questions that no child should have. He’s a good guy, we both know this, deep down he’s a good guy. And maybe he wont be as present in her life as other kids father, but he could be another person to love her.” You scream, defending yourself and your decision, you see Steve soften up. Because he does know that deep down Eddie is a good guy, but he’s finding it hard to forgive for what he did to you and Maggie. “And not sure if you noticed Steve, but I don’t have much family. Sure I have my friends and you guys are wonderful, but Maggie doesn’t have grandparents in her life right now. At least if Eddie is present then she could have Uncle Wayne. I don’t appreciate you making me feel like an idiot for doing this when all I’ve been doing for the past 4 days is kicking myself in the ass for possibly making a mistake”

You take a seat on the couch and put your head in your heads, already feeling a migraine coming along. Steve comes over and wraps his arm around you and draws circles on your shoulder.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re like a sister to me and that little girl is my first niece and I don’t want her to grow an attachment to him that his lifestyle can’t cooperate with.” He tells you his fears.

“Steve I appreciate that and everything you’ve done for me and for her, but I have to give her a chance at having a relationship with him. And if she gets hurt then I’m happy to know that you’ll be here to help her stand again. And worst case scenario, he leaves her and she still has the support system she did before him. Best case scenario, he lives up to promise and she has two father figures.”

“If you think this is best for her than I support this decision the whole way.” He says and kisses the top of her head. “Also next Friday, I have a date” Your heart drops next Friday is your overnight shift at the hospital, “but I already asked Robin, she said she will watch her.” Your heart slows down to a normal pace again.

“Thank you.” She says before Steve heads out the door.

————————————————————————————

Eddie sits across from y/n at the Denny’s in the town over from Hawkins. They wanted absolute peace for this conversation. They didn’t want any interruptions from anybody they knew.

“So when can I meet her y/n?” He asks you giving you puppy dog eyes.

“I haven’t decided yet, Eddie. I feel like I need to know what your plans are and what role you plan on having in her life.” She explains quietly.

“I plan on playing the role of her father.” He tells you seriously and you scoff.

“That’s not for you to decide, that’s up to me right now, thank you.”

“I’m not trying to argue with you y/n, but I plan on being there for her the same way a father would and should be.”

You sigh, “I’m happy to hear that, but what about when another tour opportunity comes up? How are you going to juggle being a father and being a rockstar? It was too much before what makes it any different now?”

“Honestly I’ve thought about this already. For the time being me and the boys could just do gigs on the east coast or even just in Indiana, that way I’m always close. And Maggie would come before any gig.” He tells you and grabs your hand.

“Eddie, I’m so happy to hear that.” You say and squeeze his hand. “And, even though me and him are just friends, Steve is a part of her life and a big part of her life. That isn’t going to change just because you want to be a part of her life now.”

“I understand, I love that she has such a huge support system, I just wish I got my head out of ass earlier. I could’ve been here the whole time.” He says and you watch as a tear falls down his face.

You reach over and wipe it off, “Me too Eddie, me too.”

“I want to do anything I could to make it up to you and especially to my daughter. I love you so much and I hate that I was stupid enough to forget about all of that.” He says basically sobbing now and you can tell that he’s sorry, but you’re still hurt. You still have cuts from your past relationship with him that can’t be healed by just an apology from him. You need action and even then that may not be enough.

“Eddie, I don’t think I’m ready to hear that right now, I’m sorry, but we can work out the details about visitation and everything at a later time. I’m willing to let you back in her life because she deserves to know you and have a relationship with you, but as of right now, our relationship is limited to learning how to coparent and make a strong support system for Maggie.”

He looks slightly wounded at the fact that you guys can’t even be friends right now, but he truly understands that this is all his fault. His gratefulness towards you for allowing him to fix his mistakes is enough for him right now.

“Y/n I completely understand, and now that we’ve set the boundaries and everything, I’m ready to make this right. Thank you so much.”

You smile at him as the waitress sets your food down on the table. The rest of the night was pleasant, a little awkward because where you guys stand right now isn’t ever what your relationship was, so neither one of you know what topics to bring up and what topics are appropriate so small talk was taking over the booth. Both of you hated it.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x you

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mariaofdoranelle · 2 years

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Silver Fox

AO3 link

Hi. I’ve got terrible flu and decided to heal myself with some self-indulgent Rowaelin (mostly) fluff. If you end up hating this, I’m totally blaming the meds lol who would’ve thought one of its side effects was poor editing?

I’d also like to thank @leiawritesstories for letting me use her professor’s Einstein joke. Absolutely priceless.

Word count: 6,2k

CW: swear words, drinking, mentions of cheating.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

That’s it. I’m going to fuck his dad.

That was Aelin’s first thought when she saw the picture Lysandra sent of Chaol in a club with his hand under a girl’s skirt. With an attached message saying they left the party together.

At that point, Aelin was truly and thoroughly pissed. Their relationship wasn’t very fulfilling and she didn’t love him, but he had been a comfortable constant in her life for the past few months, specially since dating could be a handful when one’s not in a serious relationship already, with all the games, bad experiences and walking on eggshells. She couldn’t afford this now, getting through college was her main goal. But Chaol and her were supposed to be partners. Aelin could deal with a lot of things, but betrayal wasn’t one of them.

It was Saturday, so she woke up late to find the picture, and stayed a lot of time frozen in place, just reeling. To then start pacing around the house. Her third reaction to the betrayal was to forward her cheating (ex) boyfriend the picture and text “Don’t you dare trying to fix this.” when he started to apologize and request a conversation. Immediately after, she calmly laid in her bathtub, used her finest oils and lavender soap, put on a black lacy lingerie, black dress that was flirty but not too revealing, and red lipstick. She wasn’t getting ready to fuck Chaol’s dad, no. She was getting ready to have her revenge.

Her mind was on fire as she started driving to Anielle. Was she sure about that? Almost. Mr. Westfall never really liked her, but he and her parents were all politicians, and at least she was respected for the weight of her last name and her family’s legacy. Besides, even though they disagreed on everything, she had incredible assets. Aelin was confident enough to admit her looks made her hard to refuse. When added to the fact that Mr. Westfall didn’t care enough about his son to have this kind of loyalty to him, her mission was almost too easy. She didn’t care if Chaol’s dad was one of the most hateful people she ever met, getting revenge was enough to get her off. Her friends were always trying to warn her about him.

Aelin, his looks don’t make up for his personality.

Aelin, he’s too boring for you.

Aelin, he’s not a boyfriend, he’s a charity case.

And what did she gain from dating Chaol? Exac—

“What the fuck?”

When she looked up, there was a car in front of hers. One she just hit. Fuck. And it also wasn’t looking good. Aelin was starting to panic when she saw Rowan Whitethorn getting out of the car she just hit. Great. Her ex’s roommate. He was actually a sore spot on Chaol’s life, but she never figured it out besides not making it into the hockey team which Whitethorn was captain. Still, she wanted nothing to do with the people in Chaol’s life. Besides his dad, for one night. And the two friends they had in common. She was shutting the bastard out.

She left the car, looking intently at the damage until Rowan’s snap at her became impossible not to notice. “Seriously, Aelin? How fast were you going?”

“Oh, please. It’s not my fault you drive like an old lady.” Aelin couldn’t help the snarky comment. Without a car, her avenge was ten times more difficult to achieve now.

She watched Rowan close his eyes and breathe in and out a few times, deeply. Then he ran a hand through his silvery-blonde hair and asked “Are you injured? I’m fine so I’m just going to call insurance if you’re good as well.” It would be a jerk move to be sassy now, so she just told him to go ahead and make the call, and they decided to wait on the sidewalk while someone came to pick up their cars. They really were lucky no one got hurt. Both of the cars looked like a raisin where they crashed.

She was also really lucky Rowan wasn’t pressing charges. Actually, he didn’t even seem overly pissed, just mildly so. She knew him very little, but as Rowan was definitely the quiet type, he was never rude to her, which made her try harder to understand Chaol’s spite toward him. She looked sideways and saw her crashmate look up, breathe deep and think hard on something. Probably trying not to be pissed at her, the person who wasn’t looking where she was going and bumped into his car. Which now looked like the outside of a passion fruit. By now, she was actually thinking he was too nice.

At first, they didn’t say a thing. Just stayed sat on the sidewalk, slowly breathing while waiting for someone from the insurance company to come. At some point, Rowan silently offered her his water bottle, which she gladly took and then cleaned the lipstick smudge left there. She didn’t really know Rowan, but his steady presence was soothing. People watching on the street, with a breeze cooling her down, and breathing evenly for the first time since she found out she was being cheated on, Rowan probably had no idea how much this was calming her down. She was still mad at Chaol, but it was good to clear her head a little. Aelin wasn’t even counting the time, she was just happy to see it pass by her. At this moment, she didn’t feel like controlling anything.

A while later, Rowan broke the silence. “So, where were you going in such a hurry?” Even though his question was snarky, he kept a gentle tone.

Aelin wasn’t a very open person, and she didn’t feel ready yet to talk to any of her friends about the downfall of her relationship, but something about Rowan made him seem approachable. Safe, even. So she told him the truth.

“I was driving to fuck Mr. Westfall”.

Rowan’s cheeks flushed a little, but he kept his gaze intent on her. “You call your own boyfriend by his last name?”

“No, I mean his dad.”

At that, Rowan just gaped and stared at her, as if waiting for the clarification that it was a joke. Except that it wasn’t. She just raised one eyebrow at him and waited for his brain to start working again.

“I met him only once and he’s one of the most unpleasant people I know. You can’t be serious.”

“I never thought of him that way. In fact, I kind of always hated him, but Chaol and I broke up and I’m so mad at him I just feel like sleeping with his dad out of spite.”

He looked up a little and asked quietly “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

He watched her a little and uttered with a small crooked smile “I always thought you were dating down by being with him.” Sounds like this was everyone’s opinion on her relationship. “Ugh, I know. My friends told me this at least a thousand times, but I didn’t really listen. You and my cousin Aedion are teammates, right?”

He peered at her, unsure where she was going. “Sure.”

“You know his girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Alyssa?”

For the first time that day, Aelin laughed. “Lysandra, yes.” Then she remembered where the conversation was going and the mood sobered. “So, she sent me last night a picture of him with another girl at a club, and told me they left together. I saw it this morning, forwarded to him and he didn’t even deny he cheated, just tried to mend our relationship. The rest you already know.”

Rowan looked thoughtful while processing the information, then asked “and you think sleeping with someone you dislike with help you somehow? I’d prefer to go for Dorian if I were in your shoes.”

“I’m really just doing it out of spite, and Mr. Westfall is the person Chaol has the strongest feelings, even though it’s hate. Besides, I had a quick fling with Dorian before dating Chaol and the three of us dealt well with it, it wouldn’t make that big impact.”

Rowan still looked quizzically at her, but he seemed amused. “I’m still not sure your big impact makes up for sleeping with someone that repulsing, but I’m sorry my slowness delayed your revenge. I would never purposefully come between a girl and her evil masterplans.”

Aelin just laughed, but didn’t want to stop the conversation. So they started to tentatively ask each other about college, which developed to an exchanging of funny stories. The pink tones of the sunset were reflected on Rowan’s face as Aelin did an impression of her professor. “And he said” —she took a moment as trying not to laugh— “Einstein. Yeah, sure, do the Einstein thing: grossly irresponsible research that’s gonna kill us all,” and then she lost it, both of them laughing so much they had to take gulps of air after.

In fact, they were having such a good time they missed when the crew came to take their cars. Not wanting their little encounter to be over, they decided on going to eat a burger together nearby. Casually. As two new friends who liked spending time together. Aelin was definitely not thinking about the way Rowan’s body made his shirt stretch, or how his scent of pine and snow hit her when he held the door for her, and it reminded her of home. When they sat on the table, she was decided to toss these thoughts aside. She should go with the basics. And fast, since he was looking intently at her silent figure as if trying to figure her out.

“What’s your favorite color?”

He looked surprised, but quickly answered. “Green.”

“Fitting.”

“How so?”

“You smell like pine.” So much for her ability to shove dangerous thoughts aside.

“Oh.” —he still had that dumbfounded expression on his gorgeous gorgeous face— “It’s probably from my shampoo or something. I hadn’t really noticed it before.”

Genuinely curious, Aelin couldn’t seem to shut up. “Is your hair naturally that color? It’s like you were born a Benjamin Button except that your hair stayed that way,” Rowan looked at a loss of words, so she added, “But I mean it in a good way! It’s quite cute, actually.”

Ignoring completely everything besides the last phrase, he just blushed and sheepishly asked “You think I’m cute?” Great. Aelin had her mouth opened as she tried to come up with an appropriate answer and they both were blushing now. With a much appreciated intervention, Rowan’s phone starting to vibrate endlessly and he rolled his eyes at whatever was happening on his screen.

“That would be Fenrys. He refuses to call me, but keeps sending a thread of meaningless texts until he has my attention.” He seemed fondly exasperated at his friend, which just made Aelin cackle more.

“But is it serious?”

Still texting this Fenrys guy, he replied “Of course not. He just want us to go clubbing with him.”

Her eyes widened. “Us?”

“Yeah, I told him I’m already busy and he told me to bring whoever I’m with. In my defense, he would invite my mom if it meant he would get his way. And he’d totally own it because he’s that kind of social butterfly.” The way he talked about Fenrys kind of reminded Aelin about her relationship with Aedion, like he was fondly exasperated of his annoying little brother. That only piked her interest even more.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Rowan looked at her as if trying to understand. “Clubbing with Fenrys?”

“Sure, why not? I’m already dressed like I was going to, anyway.” She was laughing at her own joke while Rowan’s eyes roamed through her. Aelin didn’t know exactly what it meant, but the heat in his eyes burned on her skin, and the feeling was exhilarating because it had been a while since she last felt desired. Her thing with Chaol had been mundane, driven by routine. Hot team captain that looked at her like this? Aelin could deal with that.

When the food came, Aelin realized she was starving. She didn’t remember eating anything the whole day, probably forgetting to do so since finding out about being cheated on. And that burger was so good it should be illegal.

“That good, huh?” Rowan mused.

Oh, fuck. She was blushing now. Had she been eating too greedily? Did she forget to clean something off her face? Aelin was about to apologize when she noticed Rowan wasn’t reprimanding her, he actually looked amused. Wow. That was a new one. Still feeling shy and without knowing what to do, she just gave him a small smile. And received a full grin back.

“So… Were you going to see your friends when I slammed into your car?”

“Actually, I was going to my dad’s birthday. It’s only tomorrow, but I like to talk to my parents a little before the very chaotic part of the family arrives.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that came. “I don’t have a big family, but I’m very familiar with the ‘chaotic’ part. By the way, sorry for the crash. I hope you still make it tomorrow.”

“My cousin already offered to give me a ride tomorrow, don’t worry. I’m not half as mad as I should be about that crash. In fact, I’m not mad at all.” He tilted his head and seemed to be confused at himself, but both of them looked pleased. Good. She was liking this evening far too much for Rowan to have normal feelings about an accident that was totally her fault.

Talking to Rowan was easy. She didn’t know how to describe it. Aelin had been on so many dates —was that a date?— where she had to scramble her mind to find something to keep conversation going at least for another hour or so. Honestly, she didn’t know if she could do this after such a long day, but keeping a conversation with Rowan wasn’t an effort at all. They just jumped from one topic to another without even realizing it. It felt like they were in sync.

When the time came, they requested a car ride that dropped them in a place that definitely didn’t look like a club. Not the ones she frequented, at least. It was a big house that didn’t look like a frat, with a mechanical bull out front and a lot of drunk people. Rowan just said they should look for Fenrys and whoever was with him and held her hand. It was probably a meaningless thing, just trying not to lose each other in the crowd, but the moment his calloused hand gripped hers, Aelin could feel her whole body set alight just by that small act. She felt like an early teen getting noticed by her school crush. They only stopped walking when reached a table with two guys that looked a lot alike and… Elide and Lorcan? What the hell?

It turns out that Fenrys was a blonde guy with a brunette twin that left Aelin dying to ask if one of them painted their hair. They had been friends with Lorcan and Rowan forever, and even though Elide had only been seeing Lorcan for a few months, they acted like an old married couple so she already knew everyone in his life. After they were sat, Rowan carefully scooped closer to her, but didn’t go further because Lorcan suddenly snapped at her.

“Aren’t you dating that Kale guy?” No wonder why he had looked more annoyed than usual since she appeared holding hands with Rowan.

“Kale guy and I broke up.”

With an almost imperceptible smirk, he prompted “Good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

A bit after that, Elide asked Aelin to go get new drinks with her. When Lorcan and Rowan offered to do it, she shot daggers at both of them, leading to an apprehensive retreat. She meant business, them. After they had their Mojitos ready, Elide carefully stopped her from going back and whispered “Are you sure you’re okay? Lys told Aedion and I what happened, we were worried about you.”

“No need to fuss, losing my mind over that breakup is very six hours ago Aelin. I’m a new person now.” Aelin said that as a joke, but it was kind of true. She did feel different. Lighter. Anyway, she didn’t know what Elide saw in her at that moment, but it was enough to leave it alone for now. “Just don’t drink too much alcohol, you know the reactions it gives you.”

Aelin was genuinely confused now. “What reactions?”

“It makes your legs spread.” Elide wiggled her eyebrows and it was enough to make both of them crack up. The laughter had subsided a little when they reached the table, but Connall still asked what they were laughing about.

“We” —a brief pause. She couldn’t possibly tell the joke in front of Rowan now— “were wondering what exactly is this party.”

“A graduation party” Fenrys proudly answered.

“Cool. Who’s graduating?”

“I don’t know.”

The whole table seemed to stop a that. “What?”

“I’ve been going out with someone. Casually. She invited me to come to her friend’s graduation party but I asked her if I could bring a friend, since I’m only going to see her later.” A slow smirk. “So here y’all are. Enjoy the party.”

The whole crew still looked ashen a few beats later, when Rowan asked “So your version of ‘a friend’ is five people that girl doesn’t know?”

Fenrys looked completely confident when he smiled and answered “No need to fake outrage, you’re loving the free drinks.”

Honestly? She was. The drinks were flowing and Rowan’s friend group was really fun to be around. Except for Dorian and Nehemia, Chaol’s friends were always looking down on her for her life choices or political opinions. This change of scenario was refreshing.

Aelin couldn’t remember how many drinks she had, but she did remember promising Fenrys she’d ride the mechanical bull later. Apparently, ‘later’ was now. At first, she couldn’t get up on the bull, so Rowan went to her rescue and propped his hands so she could step on them to get her right leg on the other side of it. But they probably had the same idea on getting her momentum, because when Aelin jumped to ride the bull, Rowan also pushed her feet up, which sent her airborne until she landed on the other side of the air mattress. Aelin could barely distinguish Rowan’s voice asking if she was okay from all the laughter in the room, and it turns out she was laughing too. In fact, she really hoped Elide had it on camera.

On their second try she managed to land properly on the bull, and she felt glorious until that thing started moving. Aelin had no idea how much time she managed to stay sat on the bull, the only thing she knew was that she managed a few seconds before lying on it and holding on its neck with both arms like her life depended on it. She was really grateful for the spandex shorts Elide had brought for the occasion and ended up lending her, because otherwise she would be flashing everyone now. It probably wasn’t a long time after, but it certainly felt like a lifetime when the bull made a particularly sharp move and she finally fell. She would be grateful if her thigh didn’t hit one of the bull’s horns on her way down, which was likely to bruise soon.

Aelin had only a few seconds to lie down and reevaluate all her life choices that led to this mechanical bull until Rowan appeared before her. “Hey, you okay?” He looked concerned. Adorable. Little did he know she felt like she had died and came back by divine intervention. He checked her up and decided she was fine enough to go on, but the party started to fade away before she finished applying the ice pack that seemed to materialize on Rowan’s hand. The only thing he said to stop her complaining was “You’re injured, it’s absolutely necessary.” She wasn’t actually minding the hovering, but it was fun to tease him.

Elide, Lorcan and Fenrys already had plans that didn’t include them, but Connall was meeting his boyfriend Vaughan at another party and invited them along. Before making a decision, she quietly whispered to Rowan, “I don’t want to go to another party, but I really don’t want tonight to be over.”

“I live close by, we could go to my place if you feel like it,” Rowan suggested tentatively, but then quickly started to rectify his intentions “and I don’t mean anything by it, you know? We could just talk. Or not talk, really. Shit. I didn’t mean it like that.” —his cheeks reddened more each sentence— “What I’m trying to say is that whatever you want to do, I’ll be happy to oblige.” Rowan look positively ill by the end of his babble. She wondered if she’d ever see him that flustered without the booze.

The fact that Aelin would be going to her ex’s house was just a fleeting afterthought when she accepted the invitation.

They were very close to the exit of the house when a girl wearing a mortarboard hat and a bodycon dress bumped into them. Her shoulder slammed against Aelin’s, but she could smell a heavy scent of beer in her. The hostess, then. She looked confused to see both of them, but perked up again when Aelin started cheering her on. “Congratulations! And thank you for having us, we’re heading out now”

The girl sent Rowan a glance that didn’t hide she liked what she saw, then winked at Aelin before saying “You go ride that bull, girl.” The only answer she received was Aelin’s bark of laughter and Rowan’s mortified face.

Aelin decided his place was close enough to go by foot, but Rowan only agreed to it before checking how bad her bruises were looking and lending her his jacket so she wouldn’t catch a cold. She didn’t have the heart to tell him his jacket wasn’t going to stop a virus from entering her body.

Aelin looked up and sighed. “God, I could use a snack now.”

“There’s a 24-hour store nearby, wanna grab some food?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What are you craving?”

She weighted her options a little before answering firmly “Cake.”

“Please don’t tell me you make those boxed cakes.” He looked horrified.

“Wrong. I don’t make any cakes. I’m very good at eating them, though.”

Rowan’s eyes glistened when he replied “Good to know. I’m very good at baking from scratch, but I’m not good at eating them.”

Aelin’s jaw was on the floor. She couldn’t have heard it right. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

He was laughing at her disbelief, which made her even more confused. How dare he. “I like to cook basically anything, but I find baking particularly relaxing when I’m stressed out, so I do it and then give it to someone else. I don’t like sweets.”

Oh my God. Was he even real? One person who only liked to bake, and another who only liked to eat. It was like they were meant to be. Aelin would never consider dating someone who didn’t like sweets, but this scenario turned out to be the best one she could imagine.

Inside the store, they settled for popcorn and also some booze.

“What do you want to drink?” Rowan asked her while reading the labels.

“Impress me.”

“Are you okay with red wine?”

“Red wine?” She tilted her head. “Are you trying to seduce me, Whitethorn?”

He had the gall to look sheepishly at her. “Only if you want me to.”

That made Aelin’s grin become predatory. “So you should know I’m a Pinot Noir kind of girl.” They only stared at each other for a while, the air heavy with the meaning of the words left unsaid. Then Rowan cleared his throat and chose some bottles.

When they finally got to the place he shared with Chaol and other two students, everything was dark and deadly quiet. Once in the kitchen, Aelin quickly settled into the role of sous chef. Except that this sous chef only helped when separating the ingredients and by giving moral support, but neither of them were calling her out on this. After baking, they happily sat on the kitchen floor with one bowl of popcorn and two glasses of wine while waiting for the chocolate cake to be ready —the one Rowan made from scratch, specially for her. She couldn’t get over this part—.

“So, don’t get me wrong, but your parents are those two big names in Terrasen’s politics. What made you go to med school?” People meddling in her career was a bit of a sour spot in her life, but he didn’t sound judgy, only curious. That was probably why she managed to give him a real answer, without being snarky.

“Honestly? I don’t know. The idea of healing people excited me, so I told my parents I wanted to be a doctor when I was eight years old. That never changed, and they were surprisingly cool about it. I’ve never felt like a rebel because I always had a choice.” Rowan looked proudly at her, so she prompted. “You?”

“I’ve never felt a huge calling for any profession. When the time came, I chose International Relations because it felt right. I wanted to be a bird when I was a kid.”

Aelin cackled hard at that. “Yes! How is this so fitting? You hover like an old Buzzard.”

He looked confused, until he was laughing along with her. If Aelin was sober, she’d worry about enjoying Rowan’s company way too much. She settled with the thought that it was just refreshing to spend time with someone who actually laughed at her jokes, that was all. When she came back to the moment, he was looking thoughtfully at her and running his thumb along her hand. She used her free hand to caress his cheek and he broke the silence a beat later.

“Are you still going after your ex’s dad?” Seriously? That was what he was thinking about?

Aelin’s hand that was resting on Rowan’s cheeks traveled to his silvery-blonde hair while she answered “I could really go for a silver fox now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Mr. Westfall’s hair is not silver.”

“I know.” She was just glad he didn’t notice how terrible that pick up line was. Rowan just blinked as his whole face flushed. His mind was probably scrambling to something to say or do when they were interrupted.

“What. The. Fuck?” Said a very familiar voice.

She immediately noticed a smell of vodka and women’s perfume. When they looked up, Chaol was fuming on the kitchen entrance.

Rowan decided to start things peacefully. “Hey. I didn’t know you’d be here, you never stay in on the weekends.”

This was news to Aelin. “What does he mean you never stay home on the weekends?” Was she really that stupid?

“Get the fuck out of my relationship, Whitethorn—“

“Um, we broke up” Apparently, she still had to remind Chaol of this slight detail.

But he detected the smell of cake and continued. “Are you fucking baking for her? This is trying too hard to get in a girl’s pants, even for you.” Right now, Aelin’s only concern was on the oven. Was the cake ready? It smelled ready. She needed Chaol out of the kitchen soon. She was going to summon Rowan when she glanced at him and noticed he looked positively murderous.

“Seriously? You and the guys are the ones who eat my stuff the most. In fact, I’m practically the only one who cooks in this house. I saw you eat half a cake by yourself the other month, but you only tolerate me when it’s handy for you.”

“Can you blame me for not tolerating you when you’re foreplaying my girlfriend with chocolate cake? How long have you been planning this?” Aelin really couldn’t tell if Chaol was more pissed about her being with Rowan, or about her being fed by Rowan. But she decided to sort that out later, not wanting the cake to burn. She helped Rowan do it, it felt like it was her baby. Their baby. Whoa, too soon. She had too much to drink tonight. But then something clicked.

“Are you telling me you had access to half a cake and didn’t care to share with me, Chaol?”

He looked at her like she was a petulant child. “Aelin, we should go to my room and talk about this. I told you we can work things out. Going after Whitethorn just to spite me was a low blow, but I get why you’re angry. I see you, baby. It was just one mistake and honestly? It’d help a lot if your friends just stayed out of our relationship and—“

She had completely tuned him out by that point. Aelin was just nodding her head up and down, trying to distract him from Rowan and the cake. And Chaol seemed to believe her magnificent drunk acting. But then his red angry face and continuous babble —that actually meant something, but she didn’t feel like acknowledging it— reminded her of a tomato. Even better, of one of those Annoying Orange videos she used to watch a decade ago. She was trying not to laugh, but her shoulders were already shaking, and when Annoying Chaol stopped his speech and really looked at her, she couldn’t keep it together and started cracking up. Rowan sent her a confused look at first, but then started laughing too when he saw her amused expression.

Defeated, but too proud to assume so, Chaol just rolled his eyes and said “Come talk when you stop acting like a child.” before slamming the door and leaving the house. Both Rowan and Aelin managed to recompose themselves a bit before looking at the spot her ex was in and cackling again.

As she imagined, the cake was delicious. She was trying to eat as much as she could, but stopped when Rowan said she could take the whole thing home. He watched her in awe as she stood up, put both of her hands on the table and proudly announced “I’m going to take my ex’s advice and stop acting like a child. Do you want to see my last childish act, Buzzard?” Reluctantly pleased, he agreed and followed her up the stairs with two closed wine bottles.

Aelin couldn’t decide if it was a waste of Pinot Noir or not when she entered Chaol’s bedroom and painted his drawer with red wine. Shirts? Check. Underwear? Check. Very white socks? Check, check, check. Was tie dye still trending? She certainly hoped so.

She found Rowan propped against the doorframe, looking completely astonished. When she arched an eyebrow, waiting for a reproach, he just indulged her more. “You know, his bedsheets are looking awfully clean.”

“Remarkable observation, Buzzard.” Then she threw a bit more than half a bottle all over his bed, hoping it would stain not only the sheets. Two bottles of red wine spent on petty revenge, completely worth it. She hoped his other woman (or was it women?) would like the new theme. He could say he entered his new era. Finishing her abstract artwork, she schooled her face into a surprised look and said “Oh no! Now there’s only three beds! What are we going to do?”

“Do you think your ex will mind being the big spoon?” She cackled. Hard. It was difficult to picture tall, broody and brawny Rowan Whitethorn being the little spoon. He just put an offended hand on his chest and looked at Aelin in mock outrage. “Sexist much, Ace?” —Her new nickname falling like honey from his lips—, “Actually, I’m not even familiar with the wonders of little spooning. Girls always assume I’m going to be the big one.” Now, both of them were laughing, and somewhere between that and catching their breaths, Aelin held his hand and led him to his own room. He looked even more confused when she told him to lie down on his side. Rowan didn’t seem to catch up on her plans, but apparently he trusted her enough to oblige.

Their drunken mirth subsided at the same rate the tension grew. By the time Aelin laid behind Rowan, the room was deadly quiet. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, she felt… comfortable. It felt good to wrap one arm below Rowan’s neck and the other above his waist. At this point, she was certain they felt like two pieces falling into place. Aelin started using one of her arms to stroke his hair.

“Are you liking little spooning so far?”

The only answer she received was a grunt. “You are no better than a house cat.” was the only thing she said while continuing her work. She just wasn’t certain about her next step. He probably felt like this too, by the way his body shivered when she accidentally tucked her nose behind his neck and breathed right on his spine. So when he started lazily stroking her thigh from behind, the only warning she gave him was saying “Tell me if you want to stop,” before kissing down his neck.

His breathing turned heavier and she loved inhaling deeply his pine scent while kissing such a soft patch of skin. Rowan turned around, held himself up with one hand and brushed Aelin’s skin before dipping down and kissing her.

It was brief and tentative, but enough to feel the softness of his lips. For a beat they only looked at each other. She could see the gentle breeze coming from the window mess with a few wild strands of Rowan’s hair. When she focused back on his eyes, they were intent on her, its green shade even darker under the moonlight. He silently dipped his head and kissed her for real this time. And heaven didn’t get close to how she felt.

She could swear he was the oxygen that set her body on fire. She dragged her nails through the back of his scalp, making him shudder again and kiss her harder. Since Aelin had already learned his weak spots, it was only fair he learned hers. She moved them until she was straddling his thighs, grabbed a fistful of his hair and made him look into her eyes. Rowan looked completely captivated. Good enough to lead his mouth to her neck. By the time he was lavishing her collarbone, Aelin had started to move her hips against his, deepening the frenzy they were in. When she took his shirt off, she… stopped.

Sensing her hesitation, Rowan gazed at her and his eyes looked understanding. They were both drunk. This wasn’t a ‘now or never’ kind of situation, Aelin was almost certain she would still see a lot of Rowan. Soon. Besides, the little time she had before sunrise wasn’t enough to do all the things she wanted to do to him. Whatever was brewing between them, she had a feeling both of them thought it was going to be great. So she would take her time.

He kissed her forehead. The tip of her nose. Both of her cheekbones. Her chin. And then a peck on her lips. Another few ones. Until he started kissing her again for real, but this time it wasn’t essentially steamy. They were more on the soft side, and Aelin didn’t know which one she preferred. She was feeling hot as well before, but the main feeling she got now was affection. At that moment she was hit by the realization that she had never felt that much cherished by a lover before, and it felt incredible. Her connection with Rowan felt incredible. Even though they hadn’t paid attention to each other until twelve-ish hours ago.

There was some noise from the little movement on the streets, but nothing enough to burst the little bubble they created for themselves. They kissed and talked and laughed until the moonlight that gleamed on them was slowly replaced by the sunlight that was now painting their skins.

“Will you get mad if I tell you I’m actually glad I smashed your car?” Aelin was smiling as if she didn’t know she could get a law suit from this crash.

“No. In fact, I’d be offended if you were sorry at this point.” A brief kiss. “So, I don’t know when I’m getting back from my parents’s because I’m depending on Enda, but maybe I can see you tomorrow?” It was cute how hopeful he sounded.

“Weren’t you supposed to wait three days to text?”

His eyebrows rose dangerously close to his hairline. “You want me to wait three full days? That sounds like a terrible waste of time.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “Just kidding. Tomorrow is actually a slow day for me, text me when you’re free so we can figure something out.” She appeased him while saving her number on his phone. To her credit, he looked truly pleased now.

“Good. May I also send you a date suggestion? If it’s completely shit, you can make me wait three days.”

She kissed him for the last time that day.

“Tell me tomorrow.”

#rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #aelin x rowan #my writing

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notstilinski · 9 months

Text

Dead Silence Starters !

Taken from the 2022 novel by S.A. Barnes, Dead Silence! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“My crew… Their dead but I didn’t kill them.”

“It’s fine. Better if you’d shut up and let me concentrate.”

“Why are you always defending them? We’re not a real team. We all just got stuck with a shitty assignment for the last go.”

“Show some respect. You’re not in charge here.”

“I don’t believe you. Talk to me.”

“(Name). You scare the hell out of me sometimes, you know that?”

“What are you waiting for? Let’s get out of here and report it. It’s like staring at a mass grave.”

“Oh, yeah. Exactly. That’s the kind of crazy I’m talking about.”

“Has anyone ever managed to talk you out of anything?”

“Buddy system, right?”

“And, yet, somehow you managed to survive. And it’s not even the first time ‘lone survivor’ has been attached to your name. Is it?”

“You do seem particularly susceptible to… Shall we say, instability, to begin with.”

“Since when has practicality ever stopped a rich guy from doing anything?”

“Is it possible for you to be more offensive?”

“This way to fame and fortune, bitches!”

“Looks like they were barricading themselves in.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m a pragmatist. And a survivor.”

“Smart means scared. And in this case, poor.”

“Can you get to the point before (Name) kills me?”

“I don’t want to leave them behind, but I don’t want to lock myself in a tomb with them, either.”

“Why apologize to them? It’s our lives you’re ruining.”

“You’re either the bravest person I ever met or the craziest.”

“This is fun. I’m uncomfortable.”

“Enough to let them discard you when they’re done with you?”

“(Name)… (Name). Is it okay if I close my eyes?”

“Hoping I didn’t kill us all by deciding to do this.”

“No thanks, I prefer my stomach lining intact.”

“And I’m not avoiding you. I was trying to give you the space you seemed to want.”

“You’re not exactly easy to figure out sometimes, (Name).”

“Everyone you care about dies. Because of you.”

“It hurts to want things.”

“You know (Name) won’t be rolling in here until ten seconds before.”

“It’s too dangerous. I am too dangerous.”

“It doesn’t happen much anymore, not when everything’s normal. But right now? I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. Which means I am a danger. And I cannot take the risk of hurting anyone again. You need to remove me from the equation until we’re back.”

“You are so determined to blame yourself.”

“You wouldn’t hurt someone, not on purpose.”

“People died the last time I didn’t distance myself!”

“You’re not fucking suggesting the hat this place is haunted, are you?”

“Ghosts and aliens? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You’re not seriously suggesting that I fractured the back of my own skull.”

“I would have never left them.”

“Are you sure about that? Old habits die hard, too.”

“So it’s my fault no matter what?”

“I am not leading innocent people to their deaths!”

“I think it’s impossible for any of us to know what we would or would not do after experiencing what you’ve been through.”

“Surviving is nothing to be ashamed of, (Name).”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t remember it. You don’t want to.”

I made it. I survived the night.”

“Not exactly the luxury cruise you were expecting?”

“Is there any scenario in which you don’t boot my ass?”

“Look I don’t like you, but you could be useful.”

“Let me out! Let me out! I won’t hurt them again, I promise…”

“He’s not going to stop. He’s going to kill you.”

“You’re going to die, unless you kill him first…”

“Shut up! I was useful to you. That’s all.”

“Isn’t that what we all want? To be useful, valuable. For our contributions to matter. To leave a legacy that remains after we’re gone.”

“If you can’t trust yourself, can you trust me?”

“At least this way (Name)’s name will be remembered. All their names will be remembered.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #starter sentences #ask meme #ask prompts #inbox memes #inbox prompts #novel sentence starters #*holds the LINA crew gently to my chest*#i finished this book off in two days and i am Obsessed ...#but . again . if u see any mistakes here ?? no u don't !!

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mackthecheese · 10 months

Note

Mwahaha i have QUESTIONS

First of all, what's the best seating arrangement? On a couch, at a table, in bed, in a shallow hole in the park?

What's your go-to outfit if you're just doodling? Mine is high-waisted pants and something tucked in

What's your favorite wh ship?

Which jack stauber song/video creeps you out the most (Lima bean man)

Would you rather be able to only drink water, or no plain water ever again?

What do you think the worst job is?

If you're about to get up and an animal rests its head on your foot, are you legally obligated to stay there until they are ready to leave?

What's your favorite medium?

By myself? In MY SPOT on the couch. With friends? In a vaguely menacing circle or half circle. The council has decided death to be far too merciful a punishment. TO THE BABY SHARK WITH FART REVERB CHAMBER YOU GO.

Confused by the question. If you’re asking what I, myself, am wearing while doodling, probably pajamas tbh. If you’re asking what sort of outfit I like to draw characters in, usually just their canon outfit tbh. But I’m an absolute sucker for RIDICULOUS and FABULOUS blazers and coats for my original characters. ✨✨✨

Good ol’ canon FranklyDear. They’re just so cute together!!

I wouldn’t say any of them really creepy me out, so I’ll just share my two favorites, which are The Pumpkin Song (mention of a cat + mecore fr) and Hamantha (she’s just impossible to ignore).

No plain water ever again. If I’m really craving WATER, I’ll just drink water with a liiiittle bit of lemon juice or smthn in it to make it *technically* not “just plain water”.

The worst job? For me, personally, definitely a hooker. I’m asexual- I think that speaks for itself. I also just don’t really like touching people in general yk?

I pet that critter until it’s so happy it starts headbutting my hand. I’m gonna pick it up and carry it with me to wherever I need to go. (Unless it’s outside, in which case I will make that critter the BEST, MOST COMFORTABLE little spot to snuggle EVER and I will cuddle them when I return from The Outside.)

Clay! I’m mostly a sculpture artist and clay is super great to work with because of how easy it is to shape. I’m a bit pickey with my clay though- I don’t really like air dry clays or baking clays because of how weirdly rubbery they are. You can’t make slip (equal parts clay and water-basically clay glue) with them and if you’re building a Thing in pieces, it is an absolute NIGHTMARE to try to attach them securely. Low-fire cone 05-06 white clay and mid-high-fire cone 5-6 speckled buff clay bodies are my favorites to work with because of how soft they are- they make really good slip and it’s easy to build in pieces because they attach super easily with just a little bit of scoring, slipping, and pulling. I can get a ton of detail in firing clays that air dry and baking clays just won’t allow. I also generally prefer the look of glaze to paints on my art. I like creating utilitarian items from clay too, so I need glazed stoneware to make them food safe. Like this cool sgraffito plate I made last year!

There’s also a ton of amazing decorating techniques that are possible with firing clays, but not air dry or baking clays. One of my favorites is definitely raku, which is where you fire a piece to bisque, then apply raku glaze (special glaze) and fire that. BUT here’s the important part that makes it raku- you have to fire it at an insanely high temperature (750°C) VERY QUICKLY and take it out of the kiln while it’s red-hot. Then you stick it straight into a metal container of some sort with flammable material in the bottom (shredded newspaper, dried leaves, etc.) and let it catch fire. Then you put the lid on the metal container and let it burn until it runs out of air. Now you can either let it sit in there for a while to cool or you can remove it to let it cool- it doesn’t particularly matter. Firing with this method makes the most INSANE glaze patterns and it’s also so gorgeous omg- Here have some examples:

It’s really pretty and super fun to do because it’s not often that you get to set your art on fire and have it turn gay. I’ve done exactly one raku firing and it was one of the absolute best things I’ve ever done. SO fun.

Anyway that was quite the ceramics rant there… 👀

#answering the important questions here #secret art shhhhh…

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nazuqi · 9 months

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Even If You Become a Stranger, I Will Fall In Love With You Again

— CHAPTER ONE: I AM NOT YOUR DAUGHTER, AND I AM NOT YOUR LADY

The Countess and Count are so kind. Unlike most nobles, they married for love, which helped create a healthy environment growing up. It’s nice to be complimented, spoiled, and taken care of so attentively by everyone. It makes me wonder how that had gone away through the years.

To be truthful, even though it’s been just under 10 years, I can’t get used to being “Astelle Belrose”. Even though I’m Astelle, I’m also Qian. Having the knowledge of a teenager as a baby was… quite the experience, to say the least.

“Aste~lle! Are you there? Is my baby studying?” Countess Hyacinthe Belrose knocked on the door to my study.

I grumbled. “I’m not a baby.” I knew she was affectionate that way, but I really wasn’t a baby. Seventeen and being called a baby? That was too much- although it was hard to blame her, because as Astelle, I’d only been born 10 years ago. 10 year-olds were still babies- although my case was quite odd.

Learning the basics like walking took up a lot of time and energy, and with a baby’s body, talking was hard. It was easier to go through normal things I’d be able to do as time passed, and being in a 10-year-old’s body isn’t as different as before. It’s changing, slowly.

“Oh? Them again? I always wonder who they are; I always see you drawing them, and I’ve never seen them before,” she took a closer look at them. “They look very cute~”

Of course she’d never seen them before. Ra*bits didn’t exist in the Empire, and I’m the only fan of a group that “doesn’t exist”. How could I tell her that? “They’re my characters! They like to be cute and sing and dance for everyone and they’re happy when all of their fans are happy!” I wish I could tell her that- but it wouldn’t be right to call them characters. They’re real to me, the people closest to me.

“That’s a secret, mama.” I say with a proud look on my face. They respect my privacy, and it’s easy to act when you know they won’t see through you so fast.

“Alright, I look forward to getting to know them~” she giggled. “Anyways, guess what?”

“What.”

“My best friend is moving to the capital! We’re visiting her next week,” she put her hands to her hips. Countess Hyacinthe’s best friend is Duchess Ariane Lambert- Leveret’s mother. When Duke Lambert had an affair, she’d decided to take her children with her and move to the Capital, far away from the Northern Region where the Lamberts had resided for generations.

“Oh… do I have to go?” It was risky for me. Leveret was always my favorite character; I’ll get attached far too easily.

“Of course, silly! You’re shy now? Having friends is good, I promise.”

“But I have friends in the mansion.”

“Have a friend your age! Just try it out, and if you two don’t work out well, then you don’t have to meet them again unless we both end up going to the same event. Is that okay?”

I nodded. I can’t really argue with that. I don’t want to sound like I hate Leveret; I can’t sound like someone who hates someone for no reason.

Hyacinthe got up from her seat, “We’re meeting your father in a restaurant near the palace tonight for dinner, so get ready, okay?” Oh, the restaurants in the Capital are good, it’s hard to say no to that.

She left to let me get ready with the maids. Needing them to change into a dress for dinner sucks, but the fashion is too difficult for me to get into myself. I let the maids in, and they fixed me up before dinner.

“Eat well, my lady!” I waved to them as I got into the carriage with Hyacinthe. At first, I’d hate being called “my lady”, but it was normal here. Making people bend the normal in their reality to fit my “reality” is too cruel.

I hate living a lie. If only I could tell the Countess that I wasn’t her daughter, never to begin with, the servants that I was never their lady. I have no choice but to move on; I’m stuck as Astelle as long as I am in this world.

#even if you become stronger i will fall in love with you again; nazuqi

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thisis-an-original-name · 11 months

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just saw someone say, about OFMD, that they’ve lost hope in a release date or any news. which is sad but fair. what I feel is sad and unfair, is that they followed that up by saying that because they’d lost hope, they were trying to “do their best to forget about the show.”

and. guys. come on. let’s look at the absolute worst case scenario in this situation. last year’s s2 announcement was some kind of scam and there is no second season, never was never will be. now, that’s not going to happen (probably), but even if it did, that doesn’t change the fact that season 1 existed and it was fantastic.

maybe I get too attached to tv shows, but season 1 of OFMD brings me so much happiness and comfort… I don’t want to forget about it, even if we never see those characters ever again. I hate to sound like a cliche, but don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.

that just made me so sad, the idea that artists and creatives could pour their hearts into such a meaningful project only to have it all mean nothing in the end because some giant corporation decided it had better things to do.

Here are the things that I keep telling myself about OFMD 2:

1. HBO Max is a terrible bloodsucking corporation that still licks JK Rowlings boots for money. Doesn’t care about the LGBT community, never has. Taika and David should find a way to move OFMD to Hulu with its evil, hornier cousin, WWDITS.

2. OFMD Season 2 HAS BEEN MADE. Aside from editing and final touches and stuff, It is FINISHED.

3. OFMD was ridiculously popular when it came about and continues to be ridiculously popular. Go Tumblr.

4. We really don’t know to what extent the writers strike is affecting things.

5. Ao3 exists. People have imaginations. The story will continue in one way or another.

6. Even if it doesn’t, that doesn’t change the fact that S1 was a masterpiece, and it will always exist.

Hang tight. Everything’s going to be okay.

#ofmd

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bamboo-bees · 1 year

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Lumiere of Bonds Lit in the Dim Night

What better way to commemorate chapter 5 than with a gif that I spent roughly 50 seconds making. Please enjoy 🙇‍♀️

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆Chapter 5⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Shylock: “Shino is Shino, and you have your own thoughts. I don’t think it’s childish.”

Shylock: “Instead of stifling my feelings for someone else, I choose to be open with them, though that may just be due to my nature as a Western wizard.”

Heathcliff: “……Haha, thank you Shylock.”

Black Dog: “Woof!”

Chloe: “Ahaha, he’s licking Heath’s hand. He must be really attached to you!”

Shylock: “Surely, he’s worried about you, who is depressed, and is trying to be comforting.”

Heathcliff: “………..”

Chloe: “…..I think this guy somehow resembles Shino.”

Chloe: “Not to mention his black fur and fiery red eyes…...”

Chloe: “And the way he cares so much about Heath.”

Heathcliff: “Chloe…..”

Chloe: “Furthermore…Heath is the same way in that he cares about his partner.”

Chloe: “Heath would be sad if he felt that Shino was neglecting himself precisely because he cares so much about Shino.”

Heathcliff: “…..You’re right. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to speak ill of this child.”

Heathcliff: “Because he’s a lot like Shino.”

Chloe: “In that case, you should tell Shino how you feel!”

(Dog barks)

Shylock: “Oh my, it looks like this child is also pushing at his back.”

Chloe: “Well then, I’ll have to work even harder. We have a ceremony tonight, so it’s the perfect time to make up!”

Chloe: “Even though it’s called a ritual, it’s actually something more along the lines of a festival where you can have a fun time.”

Chloe: “Straighten things out with Shino, make the ritual a success, and have fun together!”

Heathcliff: “Yeah…..! Thank you, Chloe. And you, too……”

(Dog barks)

Heathcliff: “Haha, that tickles….!”

Shylock: “….Fufu, but of course Heathcliff, Chloe came with me because he was concerned for you, but….”

Shylock: “Apparently, it just ended up being baseless worries.”

Heathcliff: “What’s the matter, Shylock? You’re looking at our faces and smiling…”

Shylock: “No, it’s nothing.”

Shylock: “Well then, let us head back shall we. There are people waiting impatiently for us after all.”

By the time I got back with Shino and the others, Heathcliff and the others had already returned.

Both of them seemed to be feeling awkward, but we all decided to proceed with the preparations for the ritual first and foremost.

Shino: “Before the ritual begins all of the villagers will have to change their clothes, right? Are you going to be able to get them dressed in time?”

Chloe: “Yup. I’ve only got a few more to go! I’m off to take measurements for the rest of them.”

Shylock: “Thanks to Chloe, it looks like we’ll be able to get the outfits together without any problems.”

Heathcliff: “It was a considerable amount of food, yet they prepared enough for us and made it through without any difficulty. It’s amazing.”

Heathcliff: “But aren’t you tired of using magic after all this time? If it’s just a little, I can help …”

Heathcliff was about to say something, but was suddenly too taken aback to speak.

Shino: “……..”

Shino’s gaze captures Heathcliff’s profile. In that moment the voice of Chloe, who’s shaking his head gently, grew closer.

Chloe: “Thanks. But I’m good at repairing and making clothes with magic, so it’s okay!”

Chloe: “I’ll finish the costumes as they are. Heath, can I leave it to you and Shino and the others to help prepare for the ceremony?”

As if prompted by Chloe’s smiling suggestion, Heathcliff and Shino both glance at each other.

I’m sure Heathcliff didn’t say that to avoid Shino. As usual, it was simply his own way of showing that he cares.

It was Shino who stepped forward and answered.

Shino: “Yeah, of course.”

Shino: “When the ritual begins, let’s work each other to the bone. As contributors to the traditions of the village.”

Chloe: “Yeah, let’s have some fun! Heath too!”

Heathcliff: “…..You’re right. We’ve got a lot of prep work to do. Let’s all do our best together.”

As Chloe leaves, he gives Heathcliff and Shino a high five, and runs away lightly.

Shino and the others once again turn their faces away, but the air around them appears to have softened. The other wizards seem to sense this as well.

Just a little more time until the sun goes down.

The whole village is busy preparing for the night amulet ceremony.

Little by little, I began to see the villagers dressed in costumes.

Faust: “Let’s leave the costumes to Chloe and move on to the next preparations. If I remember correctly, they used to decorate the entire village with lanterns.”

Cain: “Oh. The villagers should have the lanterns ready. Nero’s on his way to check on them now.”

Just then, Nero returned with a few of the villagers.

He looked somewhat uneasy.

Akira: “What’s the matter?”

Nero: “Ah—….We have a bit of a problem.”

Nero: “I checked the lanterns decorating the village just now and found that some of them were partially damaged. It seems they can’t prepare the amount of lanterns they planned for.”

Akira & Heathcliff: “Eh…..?”

Villager: “The ones that I kept inside the warehouse were all cracked. If only I had noticed it sooner…..”

Villager: “It’s been a hectic year, so it can’t be helped. But what can we do? We can’t wrap the village in light if there aren’t enough lanterns….”

The villagers’ faces are clouded over.

Even though the ritual is already delayed, the whole village is in a state of slight impatience.

Akira: (I’m sure I can just ask everyone to fix it with magic, but….)

The reconstruction of the village and the production of costumes must have already consumed a lot of magical power. I don’t want to put more of a burden on anyone.

Just then, a couple of village children pass us by.

Child: “Brother, this pumpkin is heavy!”

Child: “Hang in there, hang in there. We’ll be home soon, so take care to carry it properly.”

Each of the children were carrying a large pumpkin, which they had probably harvested from the field. When I saw it, I had a flash of inspiration.

Akira: “That’s it…! How about making a lantern out of vegetables?”

Nero: “Eh?”

Oz: “Vegetables……?”

Akira: “In my world, we used to hollow out pumpkins to make lanterns.”

Akira: “You can make it look like the face of a person or animal, or you can carve a pattern ….”

Akira: “The hollowed out insides can be eaten, and the inedible part can be used for decoration, so it’s like killing two birds with one stone.”

The children of the village were the first to react to what I said.

Child: “Did you hear that? Pumpkin lanterns sound like fun! I wanna make one!”

Child: “Me too!”

Akira: “I’m glad!!! It seems like everyone was anxious to get ready for the ceremony this year because of all the damage from the bad weather and the delay in holding the ceremony…..”

Akira: “I hope that each of you can make a lantern of your favorite shape and greet the night with a pleasant feeling.”

Akira: “However, I’m going to need more manpower…..”

Looking at the happy children holding pumpkins, I direct my suggestion to adults in the village.

Everyone looked at eachother curiously, but erupted into pleasant laughter soon enough.

Villager: “Manpower is nothing new! If you have the means, I’d be happy to help.”

Villager: “Yeah. Thanks to you, the village has been restored so much. I have to make more lanterns and show you guys a beautiful ritual!”

Shylock: “Fufu. It seems that everyone is excited about the wonderful proposal made by the Sage. Of course, we are too.”

Cain: “Yeah! Luckily, thanks to Oz, the reconstruction of the village was completed quickly, so there’s plenty of manpower to spare.”

Cain: “Let’s work together to make a lantern! Can you tell me what other vegetables you used besides pumpkins, Master Sage?”

Akira: “Of course! Thank you, everyone!”

#mahoyaku #mahoustsukai no yakusoku #mahoyaku translation #event translation #LadyLycorisTranslates #heathcliff blanchett #shino sherwood #chloe collins #mahoyaku oz #faust lavinia #nero turner #shylock bennett #cain knightley

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blackink-onpaper · 11 months

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The Descend and the Resurface

Damian Hart (Beyblade) x OC

Summary: OC comes from a complex background, and in the midst of trying to save it all and help her family she enters a strange arrangement, which will change her life forever.

Masterlist 🖤

Tags: Beyblade, Beyblade Metal Masters, Damian Hart, Julian Konzern, Gingka Hagane, Jack, OC

A/N: (ambience suggestion) this chapter and the next few will go along with the canon storyline, for this chapter watch Beyblade Metal Masters episode 89 if you like, it’s available on youtube!

Chapter 2

At the airport, I was reliving the events of that night over and over again. I did not feel particularly sad about the breakup, but I was full of mixed and contradicting feeling made worse by my parents. My mother encouraged me to reconcile with Julian, saying he was just putting too much pressure on himself and that I should be more understanding and supportive. Although I do agree and understand her point completely, I truly believe I gave it my all: all my time, all my energy, my support, and I don’t know how much more I could actually give.

In an attempt to see if we are truly meant to be together, I bought a ticket for Excalibur’s match against the US team; after Julian satisfies his fixation on winning he will be more open for talking. As I was boarding my plane, completely and solemly lost in my thoughts and complex feelings, I was even considering if all I’m missing him for is the stable life I got used to, or if I’m even doing this for us as a couple at all.

“Wear something classy for the match” my mom instructed over speaker on my phone, I called her from my hotel room to have someone to talk to while I unpack:

“Yes mom..” I yawned “I’ll wear something light, they said it will be very warm tomorrow” Staring blankly out of the window while my mom gave me a full report on what the Italian side of my family did, I couldn’t help but wonder where I’m going with this plan. If Julian decides he wants us to get back together, I will simply re-install myself into my previous life of arrangements, but at least everyone will be happy, and if he doesn’t I am going back home to my parents lecturing me on how I shouldn’t have let such an opportunity go. Sometimes I wondered if Julian and I would’ve been better of as just friends, or one of those “could’ve been but never was” relationships. Either way, I needed to get to sleep, because tomorrow was going to be an eventful day no matter the outcome.

In front of the stadium, seemingly hundreds if not thousands of people gathered happily blowing whistles, baloons, telling each other who they think is going to win today’s battle. The American fans were particularly loud with enthusiasm, but I really can’t defend some weird statements I overheard from the European fans. Because it was a very warm and sunny day, I wore a linen jumpsuit with an attached belt at the waist, black leather bag and a black leather jacket just in case a cold gust of wind changed the feeling within the arena. Entering the stadium went much more smoothly than I’d expected, judging from the bets and proclaimations going on in front, and I was sitting on my seat in no time. It was hard to estimate what Excalibur’s warplan was for today: perhaps Julian was going to open strong for the team, scare the opponents and lower their confidence for the following two matches so Sophie, Wales and Klaus can take on, or if it would be the other way around. Or maybe they were going to change their plan according to the Americans. Come to think of it, I had never seen or heard of the American team playing. In my time with Julian, I’d been to countless matches but they were usually among European countries, and occasionally with opponents from Asia, the Middle East, Australia and South Africa.

My train of thought was broken because in the row in front of mine a boy with red hair and an unignorable high pitch voice began explaining to his two friends - a girl with brown hair and a pink vest, and two boys: one in a green top with black hair, and another with green hair - how a particular seat is his and not hers. They were an interesting bunch, as I saw them earlier discussing specifications of some Beys that are currently circulating in the championship. But then the boy with the red hair sat right in the seat right in front of mine, almost spilling his drink on my white jumpsuit:

“Wooah! Sorry about that, miss!”

I am an unbelievable idiot! How did I not recognise him immediately: “Gingka Hagane! Is that you?”

He seemed startled that someone had recognised him: “yes yes, please keep it down I don’t want to attract too much attention, heh” he smiled awkwardly.

But from his tone and facial expression, I’d relised he forgot that one time I met him while accompanying Julian to a match: “Gingka do you not remember me?”

A vibrant flush of red, separated by a single tone from the hue of his hair, covered his face: “I’m so sorry, we’ve met before? When?”

But just as I was going to answer, the loud duo of presenters started their announcements of today’s match, with an interlude of what’s happened in the last matches. Gingka gave me a sign that we will talk after the battles, and I gave him a reassuring smile completely unaware that my every move since he spoke to me had been thoroughly watched.

“This is the second stage of the final round! The first blader for Excalibur is the axe of destruction - Klaus!” The presenter announced as Excalibur made their way out of the backstage tunnel and into the view of the cheering crowd. They all looked so fit and strong, yet I could see the tension around them: a need to succeed I was so often a witness to.

“And his opponent from Starbreaker is… whatsup here?!” The presenter protested as the crowd gasped - Starbreaker showed up with only two members. Honestly, I haven’t even Googled them before coming to the match because I thought it unimportant as Julian and Excalibur would crush them either way. But they were definitely not what I’d expected. One of the two that emerged from the dark tunnel was quite tall, with long pink hair and makeup. He looked very unique and flamboyant, but then he began talking in a strange way. Something about the stadium being a canvas? I was impressed to see Excalibur members completely composed, perhaps they were tipped in advance.

Just after the pink hair blader’s metaphorical announcements, the presenter announced him as Klaus’ opponent, apparently his name was Jack. “Well, that should be easy” I thought to myself. I couldn’t stop staring at Julian while Klaus and Jack approached the dome-shaped floor stadium. I wondered if he was okay. My attention was again disrupted by the bladers commencing their battle, which drew my attention to the other American: he was shorter than Jack, blue hair and a fair complexion complimented by a white and gold outfit. Strange how different these two members are from each other. Excalibur at least honoured European heritage by having their tailor make their outfits cohesive in colours, historical references, etc., but these guys look like… As if they were put together by someone else.

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genderqueerdykes · 1 year

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Aroace here again, I don’t know if I’m the only one but the one who feels lonely. I’ll call myself Q. But it just is so painful to know that I will never have someone who will comfort me during an episode or cheer me up when I am sad because I will, undoubtedly, always come second place to my friend’s various partners and therefore cannot rely on anyone but myself. There is no shoulder to cry on because in our society that is a privilege only reserved for those you are closest with. And while I am close with my friends they are not close to me, and this alone makes me want to find the part of me that makes me Aroace and rip it out, as this part dooms me to an eternity of being the odd one out

i'm very sorry you're feeling that way, Q. i get it, though, society currently teaches us that the only types of close relationships out there are romantic and sexual ones, and the only way to have someone who will ever "truly" be there for you.

i just wanted to let you know that that's not the case, and i'm so sorry you feel this way, but i've had friends who were friends and nothing more who would help me and comfort me during mental health episodes. i've had friends from a variety of experiences and identities who have comforted and held me while i cried, or just listened to me and heard me out while i went through very emotional times and let me just have my episodes. i know society teaches us that only partners can hold, comfort, soothe, and help us heal, but that's not the case. i've had friends who have drawn hot bathes for me because of how bad my pain was, friends who have brought me food, friends who have checked on my locks and windows the morning after i had a paranoid episode.

there are people out there who will be able to comfort you and love you for who you are, no romance or sex attached. i know it seems like you'll be stuck being alone, but there are people who understand. there are definitely other aroace people who understand, and other arospec, acespec, and other folks as well who get it. queerplatonic partnerships are a real thing, i don't really know why this website decided to hone in on qpps, but there really are relationships that don't fit into the "best friend" category, but also aren't romantic. i have 2 QPs that i've had for nearly a decade and they're definitely not just friends. they're my life partners, but we have never once exchanged romantic or sexual gestures toward one another. we're just dedicated to each other, and dedicated to helping us grow and heal.

i know it's hard and i know it hurts, but there are good people out there who will respect you. and it's okay to feel alone, it's okay to feel like you'll never fit in or never find someone else like you, but i promise, there are plenty of people who relate and understand. i recommend trying to find other aroace & aspec folks because we really do understand. we get that people still need comfort and love even if they aren't in it for romance or sex. take care of yourself anon, you're not alone in feeling the way you do, and you will be accepted by the right people. stay safe

#asks #answers #aroace #aromantic #asexual #acespec #aspec #arospec

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floral-elixir · 2 years

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i guess i should give a real update now that people follow me again haha.

idk. i love ryan so much. that boy really is just everything to me. i could not have asked for a better partner to be in love and do life with and i am so happy about the progress jacqi and i have made in our friendship too. polyamory is great and has made navigating my emotions and being able to self sooth so much easier. i’m able to communicate what’s going on with me and say what i need now instead of expecting my partner to pry and get the real answer. i can’t believe i went so long doing that and getting upset that the only ppl who fell for it were also (surprise) very manipulative lmao.

i know that for as much progress as i’ve made, i also still have a shit load of work to do.

i’m very much the child of narcissists and have an avoidant attachment, though i’m working on being mindful of this and doing my best to be more open and secure in my attachments. i’m trying to be more vulnerable with people i don’t know well and be secure in my reality enough to not let them sway me or make me regret it.

dating is so fucking hard, though. every time i find someone cool, there is just this glaring thing that makes me sad. it’s usually some kind of drug dependency and while i hold zero judgement on that in a friendship space, i have to prioritize myself and not let that be something i will accept in a partnership anymore. i’ve not smoked weed for over a year and only took a tiny bit of edible for geni’s bday, so i could relax and fall asleep. my drinking has gone from a few nights a week to maybe once or twice a month. my bottle of adderall has had well over half of the 90 day supply in it for months now. my muscle relaxers i got prescribed from my rib injury, i’ve only taken them to help me sleep when i move too much during the day and feel the muscle starting to cramp again. i haven’t even thought about doing any actual drug off the streets in years. actually, it’s very rare to drink more than one day a week anymore, and honestly, for the better because i was recently diagnosed with fatty liver. i will say that i still struggle with knowing my limit and like to get wasted, but i gotta pull back the reigns on that too or i risk dying like my grandpa did with liver disease.

oh. another thing. i’m so fucking overweight because i stopped drinking and smoking weed. you’d think i’d drop weight from that but nope. can’t cope with weed or drink or drug or pill? time to eat garbage and game for hours, i guess.

i’m trying to turn that into a gym and skating habit though. i miss being skinny. i want to lose the 110lbs i’ve gained the past 3 years.

anyway. if it’s not a drug/alcohol dependency, it’s an attachment style mismatch. i can’t do anxious attachment at all. i don’t have the spoons or bandwidth to text back every hour, especially when i’m working because i work with literal fucking acids and can’t put my focus anywhere else but on what i’m doing. it’s always so hard to put that boundary up too because i KNOW saying that we are incompatible in communication expectations leads to losing an otherwise cool friend but, ya know, it is what it is.

sometimes i want to leave houston. other times, i just could never leave it. it’s sweaty, it’s awful, i hate living here during the allergy seasons so bad, but i have everything i could ever ask for here. the little life i’ve built here means so much to me. i would probably do great in portland or seattle or chicago or new york. but would i like it as much? who knows.

in any case, i’ve decided that i’m going to start ivf treatments in two years with a sperm donor. i want to be a mom. i don’t have anyone in my life who i’d trust enough to be their dad and i am not letting that stop me. insane, prolly. but i make great money now and i know i could do it very easily, childcare costs in mind and all. i am starting to consider using a surrogate though. pregnancy is horrifying.

#that’s it i think #thanks ily #how are you?#gimme deets and updates #33

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no-droids · 3 years

Text

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt. You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours. But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to. You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did. Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints. Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does. Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it. But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You were worried about him—still are, actually. But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He’s been through way worse, and you know it. You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers. He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening. Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation. After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield. It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips. The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards. To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster. “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you. “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code. My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound. “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment. “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it? You blink. No, it doesn’t. You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name. You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not. “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show. Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here. Something could’ve happened. Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it. Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina. Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot. “They’re fodder. Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.” He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass. “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions. Tied specifically to Guild contracts.” Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare. “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties. Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him. “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Not sure I’d care too much if you did. It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit. Shit. What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company. He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied. Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence. Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy. It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this. Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve. Karga is a nice guy, right? He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando. And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too. How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder? You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?” You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice. Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly. You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity. “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it. “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you. If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice. If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it. You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal. “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head. “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out. “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold. It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to. It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando. You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave. You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides. He said he wants to help you? This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?” He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head. The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?” You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours. “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously. “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances. You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment. “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away. He helped you out, you’re halfway through this. Now comes the exchange. Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you. “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far. Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late? He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face. “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table. There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task. “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…” Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it. This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here. He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it. “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you. “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay. Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much. Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again. Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.” You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you. “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay. Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly…

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it. Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck. It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward. You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?” You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit. This is not at all how you expected any of this would go. You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request. There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary. Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum. “You said you’re here on his behalf. You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh. Oh, no. This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits. It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table. You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here. It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!” He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good. Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t. You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you. You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach. He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him? Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried. Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before. Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp. The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him. “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend. The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air. Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now. You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe. “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet. Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense. You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him. You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!” A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab. Right in fucking front of him. “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck. Great. Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t. You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out. Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now. You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it. Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

***

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried. You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual. You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing. Was there a confrontation, you wonder? Is he okay? He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though. As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you. Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view. The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace. He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?” He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down. “Are you alright? Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say. How are you going to tell him? He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say? You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh… I-I’m sorry, I just…” But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him. “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?” He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him. “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out. His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him. If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you. Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess. “It’s okay. You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak. He’s lying for your benefit, he must be. When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—” You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…” His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?” You have to think about it. Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already? You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility. “Um… no? I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?” He asks, taking a small step forward. “You don’t know? Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes. You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…” Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him. “I don’t know, I’m not like you. I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better. I think he was probably just being normal. He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb. This is what’s bothering him? Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work? It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played. He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them. How are you supposed to take that? Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning? You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?” You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest. It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason. He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you. Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly. Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him. “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.” His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention. “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?” You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm. In another weirdly stupid, primitive way. You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it. Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode. Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before. You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now. He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of. “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. He could’ve just been trying to be friendly. What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit. “Did he scare you?”

“For me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards. Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless. “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?” Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds. The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid. Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you. Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you. You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours. You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now. Achy. Hot. Needy. Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks you after a prolonged silence. His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained. Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you. “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice. Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards. He wants to do this here? Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word. Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?” You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck. You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought. Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to. It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker. You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it. Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long. You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you. You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?” Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner. You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him. He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss. Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this? Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?” Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you. Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull. Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment. You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you. “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet. This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest. Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling. “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need. Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point. You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?” Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him. You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing. Nothing. You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing. Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time. Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability. You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better. His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again. You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view. Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass. The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time. His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit. His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you. The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here. If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body. You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it. You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort. Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most. Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this. You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too. It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too. Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place. You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace. Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance. You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him. He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you. Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can. It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning. You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer. His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting. Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?” He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it. “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could. He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle. You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to. You could struggle. If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it. You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time. Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him. You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more. It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too. Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t. Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock. Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him. There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin. You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you. You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears. Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways. You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb. Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off. You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up. The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours. Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works. Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too. At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly. You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal. You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face. “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do. Easy. He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed. Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body. You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep. He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal. The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again. You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation. Come on, work. Move forward. Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly. Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled. Ran over by a truck. Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful. This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart. The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones. You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs. It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever. It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it. “Hey. Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know? You figured you’d be way ahead of him. You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here. The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over. You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point. It’s easy, you like it. Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back. Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway. It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin. Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine. He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin. His bar of soap, not yours. They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize. How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone. The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not. Hot water, not freezing cold. Standing upright and supporting you. Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue. You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again. Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this. Skin to skin contact. Someone to hold. Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar. Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest. You want to tell him not to leave. Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay. You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed. You don’t know. But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know. You know. From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection. But you know him. You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return. You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you. Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary. Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to. It wasn’t said so he could say it back. It just is. Some things don’t need explanations, they just are. You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it. You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word. It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels. There’s something hidden underneath. You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired. You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless. He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber. “I’m… not allowed to ask. I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense. Was that a translation? Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest. It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it. You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows. “You can.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #fanfic #reader-insert #rough day #no-droids #smut

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