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bellajackson200 · 1 year

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Pocket Boy. The Anual Feast, edition

There is a tradition among people who "owns" tiny people. Boys in particular as they can endure more. I have found by personal experience, that tiny people are gluttonous by nature, and this tendency is being abused by a certain competitive and possesive type of people. The so-called self proclaimed owners of these poor tiny boys. The boys were taken in as strays and groomed in a way where they can't leave. They were made dependent on their owners. They are better off in their abusive relationship than to fend for them selves on the streets.

This abuse i'm talking about happens once a year but for several months in a row. The tiny boys are fed huge fatty, greasy, filling amounts of food without a break for several months. From they wake up til they go to sleep "if they can even sleep due to massive belly aches and indigestion" The boys agreeingly devour huge amounts in the beginning until they start to hurt and wants to leave. Then they are tied to small recliners specially made for tiny boys with huge growing bellies. The recliners have a hole in the seat where the boys can do their business when needed. There they lie in pain and agony being fed. Sometimes with a tube if they refuse to obey.

The owners will "in their own twisted way" take care of the boys and rub their swollen bellies to help them digest and to soothe the pain to get them to eat more. The owners don't want to wreck the boys tiny systems because then they can't use them next year. This procedure is practiced night and day for several months to stretch and prepare the poor boys bellies, and all this is leading up to one big event. The Anual Tiny Boy Feast.

It is an eating competition for tinys and their owners. The prize... is the skill. The skill to make your tiny boy eat so much that he is just seconds away from bursting "literally" I've heard about it happening but i've never seen it and i hope i never will.

Each owner has a camera connected to a website 24/7. The camera is pointing at the poor boys where curios viewers, in general and other competitors can watch the progress of the growing bellies sitting heavily and painfully on the abused boys.

A panel of judges can also tune in and watch the swollen belly boys and disqualify on the spot if they see any cheating going on. When there's a week left for the actual competition day, the judges will pick out 10 of the most promising boys to enter the competition. Making their owners proud. The poor boys have been force fed for several months. Getting their poor bellies stretched and ready. The last week before the big day, will be spent on starving the boys, deflating their swollen, sore bellies. They need to enter the competion with equal measure and a flat belly so the audience can visually see their bellies growing as they eat. Their stomach lining is still stretched inside with nothing to fill it out and the boys will suffer from terrible hungerpains.

Still with a camera pointing on them, the poor boys will be untied. They will frantically scour around for food while crying in pain to the viewers amusement. The aching boys will be fed one tiny meal a day to deflate their huge bellies. The boys will undoubtedly be starving when they enter the competition and their owners are counting on that.

The 10 boys have been picked and me and my boy are tuned into the website, watching the poor things searching for food, crying, clutching their hungry, aching bellies. My boy is eating potato chips while staring at the screen with a haunted look on his face. He opens his tiny mouth to take a bite of the chip. Then stops, looks at the chip and then at me. With tears in his eyes, he reaches out his little hand holding the chip, towards the screen. My heart breaks. I pick him up and cuddle him into me. He's hugging my hand, letting out a little sob.

He turns his head and looks at the screen with a sad face. I close my tablet.

One week later. Competition day. I have to watch it. Even though it's messed up, i've been watching it for years and i've seen tiny boys return to compete so maybe i'll see some familiar faces this year.

I turn on the tv at excact 6pm. The actual event will go down an hour later but i like to see the opening act such as the owners and boys arriving at the venue. The state of the boys. Some anxious, some excited, some with no clue as to what's going to happen. They interview the owners who will talk about their methods while squeezing and pushing the boys belly. Show & tell, kinda. The boys are completely naked as noting can be restraining on their soon-to-be swollen aching bellies.

There's a market with different food and candy and games for the kids. One popular game is a pop-the-balloon game. you shoot darts at balloons shaped like tiny boys with swollen bellies. Every balloon contains a small gadget that falls out when popped. Kids love it. Morbid.

45 minutes in and the owners are getting their boys ready. They strap them in chairs lined up with a long table in front. They tie their hands behind their backs so the aching, starving boys can't start until the judge says GO. 10 bowls of greasy pasta with heavy sauce are placed in front of the desperate boys. The boys shift and rocks and moans in the chairs trying to reach the food with their little mouths and tongues. The smell makes them drool and smack their tiny lips.

The owners are only allowed to help their boy once during the competition. The competition is over when a boy finishes the whole bowl and don't get sick. If a boy can't finish a bowl, he doesn't win. Simple as that.

My boy was sitting on my lap watching the freakshow. Not quite sure how to react.

The owners all stood behind the boys each with a pair of scissors, ready to cut the rope tying the boys hands together as soon as the judge said GO.

Everybody was quiet. anticipating. The only sound heard was 10 growling, starving bellies.

GO. Scissors cut through the tension and the boys arms flung out to grab the saucy pasta. The poor starving boys were stuffing them selves uncontrolably. They were so hungry, so starved. Their eyes were big and round as they shamelessly munched through the greasy, heavy pasta. Their bellies were starting to swell slightly but they kept stuffing their tiny faces.

Sauce and pasta were flung about as the gluttonous boys shoved handful after handful of messy pasta down their throats. Their bodies were covered with red, chunky sauce. One boy belched loudly but kept stuffing. One more belched and the rest followed. Shoving, belching, farting boys. Bellies growing exponentially larger. Swollen, extended, growling tummies.

One particular boys tummy was growling really loud and with a hurtful belch the boy vomited a good amount of pasta all over himself and back into the bowl. This action made 3 other boys sick and they also vomited all over them selves. Then there was 6 swollen belly boys left. The owners of the 4 crying, still vomiting, boys, Picked them up and left the competition.

As i sat there watching the show, i heard a raspy belch and looked down on my lap. My tiny boy had also gotten sick all over him self. The vomiting boys had affecting him and he had puked up some potato chips. I lifted up the crying cutie, wiped him off and cuddled him into my chest.

The remaining 6 boys was starting to slow down and was looking pretty done and painfully full. One was close to having an empty bowl and his owner went to him and massaged his huge swollen aching belly. The boy whined in pain as his owner tried to forcefully handfeed him. The boys sick belly let out a hurtful, deep growl and a waterfall of liquid diarrhea splattered from his hole onto the ground below him. The sudden forceful push also made the boy sick and he vomited on him self and the disgusted owner. The horrible odor and sight made 2 other boys wretch and vomit. Their owners picked the boys up and left.

The 3 remaining boys was so full and so achy. They were crying and writhing in their chairs. Belies so swollen they couldn't walk or even try to move. They were begging their owners to help them, Give them soothing belly rubs. One lost it and vomited. His owner picked him up and started massaging his swollen aching belly. Praising the tiny boy for making it this far. They left.

The 2 remaining boys sat with 5 chairs between them. They felt so sick and their bellies hurt them so much. Both their owners were providing comfort by rubbing and massaging their extended swollen bellies. One owner started to slowly force the rest of the greasy pasta into his sick boys tiny mouth. The boy got pale and stuck his little tongue out. He vomited but the owned stuck his finger in his mouth to stop the vomit from spilling out. This disqualified them. The owner got frustrated and stuck his thick finger down the poor boys throat while pushing on his swollen belly, making him vomit painfully. Then they took off.

1 swollen, aching, sick belly boy left. His owner was gently massaging his poor bloated belly. The boy was in so much pain and his belly was so enlarged and stuffed to the max. His skin was stretched so thin it had a shine to it. The tiny poor boy was crying. every movement, every breath and sob hurt. The owner reached into the bowl and picked up the last bits of pasta. He held it next to the poor boys mouth. The boy looked at the food, then the owner and with a pathetic look, he shook his tiny head. Pleading. The owner pushed on the poor boys mouth with the food, forcing him to open up. The poor boy slowly chewed his way through the last greasy, saucy mouthful of cold, sticky pasta. He swallowed hard and moaned in pain.

The boy had to keep the food in for 5 minutes to win the competition. The clock started. The audience watched intensely as the poor aching boy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 3 minutes left. The owner held his breath and stared at the boy who was now feeling the full effect of the event. His poor belly was so swollen and so achy like he had never felt it before. He wanted to cry so hard but it hurt too much. He could just sit there, not move and take shallow breaths.

My tiny boy had been watching the show from the safety of my hair. Peeking out once in a while. Hiding his face when scared. This must be like a horror show to him.

WINNER. The judge snapped everybody out of the hypnotic state. Everybody clapped and cheered the remaining poor boy. This sudden outburst startled the sick boy and he expelled all the pasta in hurtful, continous waves of vomit. His owner took pity on the choking, wailing, sick boy and picked him up. He tried to calm his convulsing, aching, swollen belly down by rubbing it gently but the boy couldn't stop vomiting. One heave triggered the next until the boy had nothing more to expell. He then curled up in his owners hands and cried in pain. Belly flattened a bit. They left the event with a medal of honor.

My own little cutie had fallen a sleep on my chest, still hiding in my hair. Never would i ever.

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you

#bnha 325 #midoriya izuku #u.a. clown mob #class 1-a #aizawa shouta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Love You or Lose You (Alpha Soran x Omega Reader)

Request: This is the first part to the Prequel for Playing with Fire. Its right after the 2016 Olympics, and R missed the PK instead of Christen. Things have been rough with her Alphas and she just needs a fresh Start. Barca might be the start she was after, but her mates might not like that too much... Especially when she leaves in the middle of the night.

Basically 4000 words of Lindsey and Emily being idiots, R being sad and Preath and Kellex being worried.

The air was heavy in the locker room, pressing into you like an anvil settled on your soul. You could remember a time when you had felt at home here. Like you belonged here.

A time when Lindsey and Emily had actually loved you, and you didn’t feel like an unneeded (or wanted) burden on the national team (more like your family).

You shook your head, tucking your frame tighter into the small locker that belonged to your most dominant alpha, pulling a leftover sweater tighter against your face.

No. The locker that belonged to Lindsey. She wasn’t your alpha anymore, she had said so herself, but your inner omega still cried out for her and Emily nonetheless. A fight didn’t change the marks on your neck, or what your inner animal knew to be true.

Yet it changed everything if the unbearable pain ripping through your chest was anything to go by.

Another sob left your lips, muffled only slightly by the heavy material of Lindsey’s sweatshirt that smelled distinctly like both her and Emily. It did little to ease your instincts, but you would take whatever you could get right now.

There was no reason to hold back your tears, there was no one else there to see them anyway. No one who would come looking for the source of the distressed pheromones you were emitting. No one to care that you were falling apart. It didn’t matter that you were all in the same city.

They were all too busy trying to process their own issues from the loss. The loss you knew fell squarely on your shoulder. If only you had made that PK, none of this would have happened.

You shuttered at the mix of emotions trickling down your mating bond. Lindsey’s anger and Emily’s clear frustration. You gulped pushing against their emotions with an overwhelming wave of your own. You willed as much calm as you could muster down the bond-forming a little barrier between your omega and their alphas, and shoved your own despair as far away from it as you could.

The block wouldn’t hold forever, but it would do the job for now. Bonds were a bitch to shut down completely, and a permanent block was going to have to be something you figured out later.

Your inner omega growled, digging her claws into your brain. While the human side of your head got why you were doing this, your animal side was loath to deny your alphas the privilege of your deepest emotions. Especially when she thought they could fix it if they knew.

You let out a little whimper at the sound of the door, tucking yourself tighter into a ball as footsteps approached.

“Hey, Kid just thought I’d let you know your Uber is here,”

You peeked out at the kind voice, semi soothing scent, and worried eyes of the athletic. You tried to smile at the woman, but you knew she wasn’t fooled. She knew you too well for that.

“Thanks Bailey,” You sniffled, easing into a sitting position and turning to fully face the woman, and running a hand through your wild hair (only making it messier than it was before).

“I’m gonna miss you kid,” She said, and you could tell that she wanted to say more. But both of you knew it wouldn’t change anything. The deal was done and you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret it.

“I’m gonna miss you too, but you know I can’t stay,”

She nodded, she would have left too if she was in your shoes. Barça was making lemonade out of rotten lemons.

You took another gulping breath into Lindsey’s sweatshirt before shoving it into your backpack, and standing. Your eyes strayed towards the other lockers around you, landing on several items of clothing left by your friends.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” She grumbled under her breath as she headed towards the door.

“No, it doesn’t,” You breathed out, heading towards the various lockers instead of the door.

Leaving here would be like leaving a part of your soul behind. Your fingers traced over the wooden panels that outlined each locker. You only paused twice. Once outside Emily’s locker to steal a coveted Virginia soccer t-shirt and again at Tobin’s taking a re-inc sweater that you knew Christen wore more than Tobin and a LFG t-shirt that smelled distinctly like Kellex.

The quad (as the national team called them) were your team moms, and their scents all comforted you. They would make whatever apartment you ended up in in Barça feel like home.

Bailey raised her eyebrow at you as you stuffed the items into your backpack. You just shrugged. “they won’t miss them anyway,”

It was true, and even if it wasn’t you were sure Chris would still back you up when she found out exactly why you left.

You paused at the door, taking one last glance around the room, looking for some sign to stay. You rubbed your chest when another wave of negative emotions from your mates passed through your bond.

You cleared your throat and shook your head at Bailey’s raised eyebrows. The weight in your chest told you that you were making exactly the right move.

She sighed, leading you towards the loading bay where your Uber was waiting.

“Thank you… for everything,” You said softly, pulling the older omega into a tight hug. She knew you meant more than walking you to the car park. She was there for you when no one else was, and you would be eternally grateful for all she had done for you.

She held you for a long moment, rocking you side to side before pulling back to hold you at arm's length. “You got it, kid. Be safe and text me when you land alright?”

You gave her a nod and a tight smile. “Look after them?”

She rolled her eyes. If those two idiots had done anything even close to what they had done to you to her, she wouldn’t have been nearly as forgiving as you seemed to be.

Then again you were also moving to Spain.

“Of course,” She said, shoeing you towards the car.

She would make sure they were very informed on how you were doing.

****

Christen knew that there was something wrong. Very wrong. Before her phone even dinged. She could feel it in her bond with you. The torrent of emotions that had suddenly shifted into a calm she had never felt from you before.

The bond the two of you shared was a special one, forged the moment she had laid eyes on you (even more special than the one you shared with her mates). The second your small, skittish form had entered the dining hall (tucked carefully under Emily's arm) her omega had claimed you as its pup, and you latched onto her quiet calm nature without a second thought.

She knew you almost as well as your mates knew you, and the bond you shared (while different) was nearly as strong. And therefore your bond with the rest of the quad was also relatively strong.

For an unknown reason, it was keeping her awake. It was like her omega was waiting for a sign, something to tell her that you were safe and sound.

She practically jumped out of her skin at the ding of her phone, fumbling to unlock the screen and find the message you had sent her.

She froze when her alpha shifted against her, inadvertently jostling the two omega’s attached to her other side.

“Wha- appened?” Tobin mumbled, nuzzling into her stomach. Christen sighed at the wave of soothing scents that Tobin let off, trying to calm her nerves even in sleep.

“Shh, baby bear is texting me. Go back to sleep,” Christen said, scratching the alphas scalp gently with one hand and pulling up the text with the other.

She blinked at the bright screen once, twice, three times.

It was five words, cold and emotionless. It reminded her of the call marines made to their parents when they went to boot camp.

Landed in Spain. I’m fine.

She couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath at the singular line, or the anxiety that suddenly engulfed her heart (immediately jolting all 3 of her mates awake).

Before she could even blink she was moved onto Tobin’s lap, and Alex and Kelley cuddled tightly into either side of her. She could feel their concern flowing down their bond, and their efforts to comfort even though they had no idea what had caused such a strong response.

“What’s up with baby bear?” Tobin said, gently rocking from side to side.

Christen’s mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to parse out what emotions were hers, what emotions were coming from her mating bond, and the irritating calm that was coming from her bond with you.

“I…-I don’t,” She stuttered, unable to skate the feeling that there was something very bad behind the steadfast wall you had thrown up in your bond.

“Give me that,” Kelley half growled, pulling the phone out from Christen’s loose grip.

She didn’t like to be woken up in the middle of the night, and she would kill your mates if you were texting Christen because of something stupid they did. You had sent them way too many texts like that already if she was honest.

“What the fuck?” She breathed out when her eyes landed on the words. This was so much worse than Soran being dumbasses.

“What?” Alex asked, yanking the phone away from Kelley.

Be nice,” Tobin chastised lightly, leaning over to read the words that had sent her most dominant omega mate into a tailspin.

She frowned at the bright screen, trying to remember the last time the two of you had really talked. Had you mentioned moving to Spain in passing? Had she just blown it off?

A charged silence hung between them. They all knew you were taking the loss hard, and that you and your mates were struggling to work your way through the slew of emotions that came with it. But they never imagined it would come to this. That you would literally flee the country.

“This is a joke right?” Kelley asked, her voice cracking.

“It’s gotta be,” Alex mumbled in disbelief. You were her cuddle buddy, her baby bear. You couldn’t have left the country without saying goodbye first.

“I’m going to find out,” Christen said finally, taking back her phone.

She bit her lip, pressing your contact picture and holding the phone to her ear. It rang once and then went voicemail. She frowned, shaking her head at her mates, ending the call. Maybe you accidentally pressed the wrong button.

She pressed your contact photo a second time.

Again it rang once and went to voicemail. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence this time, and she would bet anything that the boring automated greeting that came on instead of your goofy one wasn’t a coincidence either.

She sighed, waiting for the beep. “Hey kiddo, um I got your text and I thought we could have a check-in maybe? Call me back when you can,” She paused, unsure of how to finish. She didn’t think anything she said would ease the ache in her chest. “we love you,”

“Call Lindsey,” Tobin said firmly, an order lurking just below the words. If you weren’t going to give them answers, then your alphas better be ready to explain what the fuck was going on.

*****

Lindsey didn’t quite know what she expected when she picked up the phone, but it wasn’t a very annoyed Christen Press on the other side.

Well, maybe she expected it a little bit (she knew you would go to the quad after the argument. You always went to the quad), but she never imagined the words that would come out of your team mom’s mouth.

“Whoa, slow down. She said she’s where?” Lindsey said, sitting up off of Emily’s shoulder where she had been leaning.

“Spain, she said she landed in Spain,” Emily could barely make out Christen’s worried voice through the phone over Lindsey’s low growl.

“There’s no way!” The more dominant alpha barked, baring her teeth just slightly.

Maybe she had said some things she shouldn’t have, but you wouldn’t just run off to another country without telling them. She pushed down her hurt and settled for frustration instead.

Emily scooched away from Lindsey slightly, rubbing her ear. “Babe, if you’re going to be this loud at 3 am, at least turn on speakerphone.” She felt odd, her bond unusually unbalanced. She could feel the torrent of emotions running through Lindsey, but your side of the bond was silent. It had never been silent before.

The two of you had known each other since you were in diapers, and your bond reflected that. She should have felt something. While you weren’t always outwardly expressive, you felt everything deeply, and vividly. You were the fire to Lindsey’s flood, and for your usual smoldering flame of emotions to just be snuffed out felt wrong.

The two alphas shared a look before Lindsey gave in and gave a short nod, pressing the little button. Emily had just as much a right to know what was happening as she did, but she still didn’t like being ordered around.

“You’re on speaker Chris,” Lindsey grumbled. She wrapped an arm around Emily and pulled her closer.

“What did you two idiots do to our baby bear?” Christen’s voice came out in a growl, the sound low and dangerous.

Lindsey stiffened, her alpha bristling more than it normally would at the tone. “We didn’t do anything.”

Emily nuzzled into her neck, trying to help her settle the mix of anger, pain and shock flowing through their bond. Just because she couldn’t feel you, didn’t mean that you couldn’t feel them.

You were not some innocent party here. Lindsey hadn’t meant all the things she said, but then you had said some pretty hurtful things too.

Tobin’s voice through the phone was low and clear, holding an air of dominance she rarely let out. “Watch who you’re growling at.”

Lindsey gulped. She was never very good at controlling her emotions, especially when things went wrong. It was easier to respond with anger than to admit she was vulnerable sometimes. But she really didn’t want to have a fight with Tobin, not when they both knew she would lose.

“And don’t give us that bullshit!” Both alphas winced at Kelley’s tone. The Omega had the parental tone of disapproval down to an art. She could have been one of their parents, scolding their irresponsibility for mating you before any of you were older than 21 (Emily’s mom had been angry enough to make up for your parents’ lack of care). Emily was sure her mother had used the exact same tone.

“We had a fight,” Emily sighed, leaning deeper into Lindsey. It was more than a fight. It was an explosion of stubborn communication that had ended in you walking out.

“A stupid fight. We’ll call her and have it all patched up by tomorrow,” Lindsey added, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why were omegas so frustrating?

“She left the fucking country. I don’t think getting her back is going to be so easy,” Alex said, and both women could practically hear her eye roll.

All six of them knew how stubborn you were, and getting you to listen was going to be far from a cakewalk.

Lindsey huffed. “Camp is in like 2 days. If worst comes to worst, we’ll just talk to her there.” If you wouldn’t answer their phone calls, then they would just corner you at camp. You weren’t good at maintaining the silent treatment when they were both in front of you. And Lindsey still wasn’t convinced this wasn't more than an overblown tantrum.

“She put a block in our bond Linds,” Christen said sternly, trying to break through the more dominant alphas shell.

Sure the three of you had had arguments before, but whatever this was, it was fundamentally different.

Lindsey frowned. You would never do that to Christen. The two of you were too close for that. At least that’s what she thought.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it. We promise,” Emily said softly, already pulling out her phone. Now hopefully she would be able to get you to answer on the other side.

“Good luck, you’re going to need it,” Tobin grumbled, hanging up.

If those two idiots didn’t fix it, she was going to let Kelley unleash her wrath on them.

Emily bit her lip as she pressed your contact picture (a photo of the two of you with bright 4-year-old smiles covered in brownie batter). It rang 4 times before going to voicemail.

Emily could imagine you staring at the screen, debating on whether or not you should answer. It hurt a little that you had declined instead.

She swallowed down her tears, glancing sideways at her still frozen mate.

“Hey babe, um I know we’re not really talking right now, but um. Christen called and we’re worried. Please call me or Linds back,” she worried her bottom lip, wondering if she should add more, but the time ran out before she could.

“Damn it,” she huffed, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. She hadn’t told you she loved you.

Lindsey smiled sadly at her, rubbing her back soothingly, and pulling out her own phone.

Her thumb hovered over a photo of the two of you cuddled up in one of your famous nests. She smiled wistfully down at it. How had this gotten out of hand so quickly?

She pressed the button, holding the phone up to her ear. It didn’t even ring before it went to the robotic voicemail. What happened to the one that had you giggling because they wouldn’t stop kissing your neck?

She didn’t have time to think it through before the beep sounded. She cleared her throat.

“Hey, um I heard you were in Spain. What’s that about? Call me back,” she too tossed her phone down.

“I can’t feel her,” Emily mumbled after a few minutes. Lindsey sighed.

She closed her eyes tightly with a sigh and began to feel for your presence in the bond. If you weren’t going to answer them, then she was going to make sure you knew how unhappy with this situation she was.

Her eyebrows furrowed when she was met with a wall of unsteady calm. It was like it was pulsing like your inner omega was pacing behind it trying to get through. She focused on the wall you had created and gave it a little push.

She smirked when it bent a little bit to her will. “I think I got it,”

She pushed back harder, the wall you creating molding around her alpha as she tried to reach your omega. She was almost there, she could almost touch your omega. One last push was all she needed.

But just as she went to give it, a blast of calm shoved her backward.

Her eyes blinked open at the ping of her phone and she scrambled to pick up the device.

It was two words. No caps, no punctuation. A simple “fuck off” that they could practically hear reverberating in their heads.

“What do we do now?” Emily asked softly.

Lindsy’s smirk widened.

“We call her until she answers us again.”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #soran x reader #soran imagine #Chapter 1 #Love you or lose you

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quillquiver · 3 years

Text

On SPN, Burying Your Gays, and Being Heard

I am shaking, I feel sick, I feel like I’m insane. And did I run a little wild with the theories? You bet. But you know what didn’t help? The botched clusterfuck that was this entire goddamn finale debacle. How was I supposed to believe anything they said in panels when M&G dialogue would leak saying the exact opposite? How was I supposed to grieve and move on when there was nothing from the cast and crew? Nobody said anything! And any info leaked just destabilized what we already knew or directly contradicted what we’d been told. In light of that, how was I supposed to trust anything anyone said? One rogue translator reciprocated the love confession and I was practically sold, because there were so many questions surrounding the English text that this was something good, something that logically fit, and something I wanted to hold onto.

Because they hurt me. This is about so much more than one episode or a ship; for years queer fans have seen ourselves in these characters and been told that we were crazy. That we were reading too much into it. I’m not sure how people get upset and offended when a storyline that doesn’t exist... doesn’t exist! said Guy Bee (2013). And then, after all of that, they turned around and said magnanimously, you have your version, I have mine... and that’s okay. But it’s not okay. It’s not okay, because that doesn’t erase what came before - that doesn’t erase the baiting and the gaslighting, and that invalidates everything we felt in the time leading up to that episode. It gave them an open window for all the subtext that came after. It allowed them to brush us off.

And then we got Cas’s love confession. I watched that scene about 500 times. Added to the rest of the season - to the fandom avatar being presented as successful and intelligent, to arc being the death of the author - I felt seen. Really seen, by a show that made it its mission to erase me. I had been okay with Cas dying at first because I had been sure the romance arc would carry through. I had been convinced that after everything, there was no way they would give that to us and then take it away.

But they did, because this is Supernatural. To anyone saying this is not bury your gays, I implore you to read up on the Hays Code. This link is to an amazing queer history podcast and the episode that covers it. In short, the Hays Code was a legal document that came about in 20th Century Hollywood during the puritanical war on the American entertainment industry, and it stipulated what was not allowed on screen. Not all of it was queer - there’s a whole section about kissing - but what the Code is most remembered for is that queerness was not allowed on screen. But queer people are resilient, and so they started testing the waters... and it turned out that you could in fact code queerness into a narrative, as long as it was subtextual, or as long as the queer character died/was punished, or both. The point is that the character is not allowed to live their truth openly. They are buried, either in the ground or punished in the narrative. The former is normally what we refer to these days, because the latter just doesn’t really happen anymore.

Until Supernatural.

Castiel is immediately punished for speaking his truth - and please don’t tell me he leveraged that punishment and so he had agency. Literally the only thing that could make him happy was confessing his feelings, and so the Empty deal was directly related to this idea of queerness-as-punishment. That being said, Bobo wrote a beautiful scene. Cas’s confession was a love letter to queerness and coming out... but everything that came after buried him. Castiel may have ended the series alive but he was effectively written out of the last two episodes, and that means that he actually never really got to live his truth. He was silenced by the narrative - that is punishment.

Dean is a whole other can of worms. Does one rogue translator confirm canon bi!Dean? Or do we have to read our own version of the text? The fact that we even have to ask these questions firmly places us in the realm of queerbaiting. Were the writers trying to get bi!Dean approved but were unable to? I have no idea, but queerbaiting requires proof that the writers encouraged a reading they had no intent of following through on, and we certainly don’t lack in evidence of that. Not from this writers room, but from those of previous eras. Did these writers try? They might have, but the funny thing about queerbaiting discourse is that there has never been a show to bait this long, and I’m making the call that even if you tried at the end, you baited me with half the ship and all the years that came before.

Of course, the narrative leaves open the possibility of bi!Dean so if you do read the show that way, that means Dean also falls into the bury your gays category; if you read the show this way - which many of us do - the mere suggestion that Dean Winchester was bisexual was enough to punish him. And he was punished. We’ve all written extensively on this, but he was given a random death, on a case his father never finished. All that growth, all that time spent having him accept himself, love himself, that was all taken away. He died the way he always thought he would: as a tool, in service of his father, protecting his brother. He had always believed he’d been a body to throw on the sword and in the end that’s all he was. And when he gets to Heaven? He’s also silenced. He barely speaks in the episode except to monologue during his death, and that is 100% Sam-centric. He is scared.

It was horrific to watch. I sobbed so hard my roommate was seriously concerned.

I had been fully prepared for Supernatural to end disappointingly. I had figured everything would end with a huge heaven reunion because white, straight, cis-male S&F writers love the idea of death as a reward, but instead of being disappointed I felt like I had witnessed a slaughter. Every single one of the queer themes intrinsic to the show: found family, resilience, speaking your truth... were gone. And I know we’ve talked about this too, but it bears repeating, because in doing this, in writing the queerness out of its narrative, Supernatural effectively looked every one of us queer folx in the eye and said: you are not important. You don’t matter. All of that stuff that came before is all good and well, but what really matters at the end of all things is blood family. It’s two brothers in a car. Life sucks but at least we get to die and go to paradise - real paradise, that your angel buddy died for and then made for you and who we never hear from again.

I felt insane. I felt cheated. I felt humiliated. I felt devastated. I still feel all those things, but listen to me. You have been heard. Not by Misha Collins, who is a great guy, but doesn’t get it. Not by Jensen Ackles, who is a similarly great guy, but also just doesn’t understand. And not by anyone else who worked on this show.

You know who heard you? Me. The people who follow me. The people who follow you. We saw each other, and heard each other, and we gave each other a leg up. We made memes. We wrote fic. We drew fanart. We made gifs. All for ourselves and all for each other. We broke Tumblr multiple times. We donated over $60,000 USD to multiple different causes. We got multiple hashtags trending at multiple different points, and today kept it up because we demanded answers and then we got them. There were at least 5 articles written about the show today. We made that happen. We made people listen.

Supernatural didn’t deserve me, and it didn’t deserve you. It didn’t deserve Dean. It didn’t deserve Cas. It didn’t deserve Misha and Jensen. But this show ended with a bleak, awful message and we turned around and showed them that love is loud. So what about all of this is real?

We are.

#alex talks #spngate #archived #this was very therapeutic #and i honestly don't know if i will ever be able to love something like this again #because i have been burned oh man #but this fandom is amazing #and i am proud to be a part of it #and i am not going anywhere #journaling #15x18 #15x19 #15x20 #castiel #dean winchester #destiel

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mettywiththenotes · 3 years

Text

Izuku’s Emotional Neglect

Hi so I’m not okay because I keep thinking about Izuku

This kid has been emotionally neglected since he was little. Izuku has had NOBODY to rely on emotionally

He didn’t have Inko, or his classmates, or All Might. Actually, All Might is borderline the only one he’s confided in [since they talk briefly about their connection of being quirkless], but he still holds back

Inko is trying her best and no parent is perfect, I see that, but what she said to Izuku that fateful night damaged that boy and the way he saw himself.

He asks her if he can be a hero, and she cries and says she’s sorry. Not only does this imply that Izuku’s quirklessness is bad, it also implies that she was lying.

And by the way, I don’t mean that Inko ACTUALLY lied that Izuku could be a hero, nor do I think that she meant to mean his quirklessness was bad.

But I need, NEED, to stress that this is how Izuku sees it. This is how he would perceive it, subconciously.

If you’re a child and you think that you can be a hero, your parent encourages it because it makes you happy. But then suddenly you can’t be a hero, and you ask them one more time if it’s possible, hoping that those little wishes you made weren’t fruitless, that maybe somehow this is some kind of dream and she’ll wake you up from it with her smile and her warmth, promising that even with this newfound “disability” you can still be a hero, but instead she cries and apologises to you? That’s going to make you think. It’s going to make you think “Was she lying? if she truly believed in me, why would she cry and say she’s sorry? why isn’t she encouraging me, like she always does? what is happening?”

It’s not the truth, and Inko DIDN’T lie, but subconsciously I feel like it’s something that betrayed Izuku a great deal.

And with the quirklessness. He hates it, he hates feeling useless, and he saw himself as useless when he was quirkless, therefore -> quirkless is something weak and awful.

Time and time again, we see this evidence of the emotional neglect he was subjected to. It’s like actively ongoing and the effects of it are seen even now

We’ll start with the Inko one. I just mentioned it, but here are the panels. It’s really just the language that she uses

“You mean there’s something wrong?”

Apologizing over and over again, like not being normal was a bad thing. Moreso, I think this just meant that she knew how hard Izuku’s life was going to be as a quirkless person, but the way she says it makes it sound like what happened to Izuku was wrong and bad and incredibly awful

Then we have All Might disregarding his feelings and telling him straight up that he couldn’t be a hero

Which then leads to this commentary

“Don’t cry! Let it sink in!!” “Just block it out, just block it all out, just-”

*pats Izuku on head* You Can Fit So Much Denial And Repression Into This Kid!

Then further along, Izuku is seen, and he gets the quirk. He is then surrounded by people that love him, that want to help him, but it’s almost like even the narrative won’t let him have emotional closure.

In most emotional closure scenes (Tsuyu crying, Kirishima vs Rappa, Iieda in the hospital with Shouto and Izuku, Kacchan vs Deku 2), there is an end to it. The character is emotional, crying or upset, and thinking back on their regrets, spilling their guts as they scream, sob, or give solemn expressions. The other characters then cheer/hype them up, reaching some sort of conclusion to the character’s pain, and the situation is more or less resolved.

But that’s not the case with Izuku. He’s always left sorta hanging there, or his hurt and anger get sidetracked by something else. One example of this is the Running With All Might scene in the UA grounds

Izuku is incredibly upset that All Might chose to withhold information on Sir Nighteye and Mirio, and he speaks about how he can’t make sense of it. He’s voicing all his worries to All Might as they run, because he can’t stand the thought of All Might keeping something like this a secret from him.

And then All Might tells him why he kept it a secret, that he didn’t feel it was necessary to let Izuku know about Nighteye’s bias, and then it divulges into him telling Izuku he’s gonna die, and Izuku focuses on that instead.

I am NOT saying that All Might did this purposefully. He didn’t try and steer Izuku’s anger away from him, it was just that it all got revealed so suddenly, so the subject changed.

The narrative tosses Izuku’s feelings of anger aside, and instead Izuku gets emotional over All Might’s potential death. Idk man, to go from angry and upset about withheld information and then immediately shoved into the knowledge that your mentor-father figure is gonna die? That’s the narrative playing with Izuku’s feelings.

Obviously, All Might’s communication skills are awful and he just kinda unloaded all this stuff on Izuku cuz he didn’t think to tell him in the first place, but I still think Izuku’s feelings got pushed around here. He had no time to process any of it

Another example is the cafeteria scene with Shouto and Iieda

The scene goes that Izuku is visibly depressed by the Eri situation and Iieda and Shouto notice. They tell him that he can talk to them when everything gets too much [a parallel to the Stain fight], and Izuku cries. Izuku insists he shouldn’t cry, and Shouto tells him that, actually, Heroes cry too sometimes, and they offer him their food in an attempt to comfort him.

But the thing is, this scene doesn’t offer closure. Closure would be Izuku seeing that he could rely on his friends and telling them how he feels [he wouldn’t have to necessarily tell them about Eri - maybe just phrase it in another way that doesn’t reveal the mission]. Closure would be Izuku accepting that Heroes can cry too, and admitting he’s not okay. Instead, we have this

The scene feels... incomplete? Like there’s no knot at the end of the rope. Izuku is being comforted, but he’s not acknowledging his own feelings of sadness.

In fact, he’s shoveling food into his mouth to stop himself from crying, to shut himself up, to try and move forward and get past his little outburst.

I would go as far as to say this is self hatred eating, trying to quell that vulnerable part inside

I wouldn’t say Izuku HATES himself now. Rather, he just makes connections to his past quirkless self in his mind. It’s the negative emotion connection

Feeling weak? Well, you’re still like your quirkless self before! You’re still not good enough and useless!

Not strong enough? Sounds like back when you were quirkless! All weak and helpless! You can’t help anyone, which is why you need to get stronger, so you can move on from your past self!

Crying? Just like when you were quirkless! You always cried back then, like a helpless kid! You can’t be like that anymore, since you are now All Might’s Successor and A Hero, so stop crying! You’re not allowed to cry anymore!

Do you see what I’m getting at here? Izuku continuously represses these emotions as he gets stronger because he connects them to when he was quirkless. If you associate certain behaviors and emotions with how you were during a vulnerable and traumatic time in your life, you’re going to want to shove those emotions down so you don’t repeat what happened back then [in this case, Izuku sees himself being vulnerable as weak, and he saw himself as weak when he was quirkless, so he’s trying not to be vulnerable anymore].

And the scary thing is, now, we can even see the hatred in real time. I’m sure there are other examples in the manga, but one scene is very prominent in my mind, and it’s this one

Izuku is so incredibly strong now, he has saved many people, but he still can’t view himself as anything other than “useless” or “helpless” unless he powers through death itself just to break himself more. He almost feels like he HAS to do that in order to be seen as worthy, for himself and others. When he’s struggling, bleeding and heavily injured, he yells at himself as if it’s all his fault.

It’s not about whether he’s aware he’s actively dying or not. To him, being worthless and useless is infinitely worse than dying.

Actually, the way Izuku practically yells at himself in this panel reminds me of when he was walking home in chapter 1 after his chat with All Might [shown above when talking about All Might’s impact]

There are two translated versions of this actually that ring alarm bells in my head. There is the panel already pictured above, but I chose this panel too because I simply think it hits harder

“Don’t cry! You knew already, right?! This is reality...”

In either translation, he’s chiding himself. For crying. For being emotional.

And once again, I totally think this stems from emotional neglect. Trying not to get too personal here, but I know what this feels like, and I know the effect it has had on me. I can’t be vulnerable or spill my feelings in front of people, it just feels illegal or smthg. Like it shouldn’t be done. And like... if you’re taught from an early age that, one way or another, your feelings don’t matter and that nobody is going to pay attention to you, why try, right?

Then you just begin to Not Feel Properly, and you become incapable of expressing your feelings in a healthy manner

Current examples of this?

Izuku literally not giving himself time to process anything, like worry, grief, sadness. If anything, the only emotion he gives time for is anger. And he specifically directs it at All For One, cause that’s his target. [we saw little bits of this in War Arc but it also applies to the current arc]

He can’t cry. He feels emotional, sure. But he never lets his tears shed.

And one last bit of evidence

I’d say most if not all of these sound about right

In conclusion I wanna hug Izuku

#istg i really don't mean to make long posts #i just have many thoughts #all the time #and once i get going on a post there's no stopping me #ahhhhh i wish i could not go on rants #but alas i have the power to and so i must #uhhhhh lmao i didn't mean to get personal in this post but here we are #bnha #bnha 321 #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #tw eating disorder mention #tw eating disorder #idk if it actually is #but i looked it up and it seems connected #please i IMPLORE you if any of the info i gave seems a bit off #like the psychology stuff and eating mention #don't hesitate to message me so i can fix it #i encourage corrections #after all i'm not an expert in the field but i know what i've gone through #and it feels the same as what izuku has been through too #so yh #rambling #ramblings #the way this post jumps from ranting to analysis #PARKOUR!

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pray4jensen · 3 years

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Are you hopeful about Misha being back and Dean returning Cas' feelings? I don't know what to think anymore but I'm not feeling hopeful and it makes me sad. I'm just having a hard time, I want to believe!

Hi anon! I can see how one could be skeptical because they’ve tried so hard to convince us that he wasn’t there for filming, not to mention that they really went all out with the call backs during Cas’ death scene. There was the hand print, the “wings” as the Empty takes him, and of course what definitely sounded like a deathbed one-sided love confession, but hey, they’ve also dropped a lot of clues to suggest otherwise, too!

1) In 15.09, when Chuck shows Sam the future, it is one where Cas is dead. Cas’ death is shown directly to be the reason why Dean is hopeless in the future. He gives up completely and when he finally agrees to hunt with Sam, they fail because Dean’s unable to give it his best shot. The consequence of that hopelessness is that they get turned into vampires. A future without Cas means a future where Dean becomes the monster at the end of the book and dies, which means it is a future where Chuck wins. That doesn’t really sound like a show about free will, does it?

2) To follow this, in 15.04, Becky specifically tells the audience that an ending with Sam and Dean dying and Cas absent is a bad ending. Becky is a fan of Supernatural, just like us, and all season, we’ve been told by the cast and crew that we’re going to get an ending that will please the fans. Chuck’s bad ending definitely wouldn’t fly with any fan of the show.

3) All of the above stresses the importance of Cas in the story. They can’t have a happy ending if he’s dead. Fifteen seasons have gone by, and we know one of the main themes of this show is free will. In 15.17, Chuck tells us that Cas is the only one who’s ever had true free will, who’s the only one who’s ever been able to influence Chuck’s story and break free of his control. By that same logic, Cas is the only one who can finally free Sam and Dean. He is the bringer of true free will and he is the only one who can hand it to humanity.

4) And just beyond narrative reasons foreshadowing Cas’ return, there’s also what the cast has said. Misha’s confirmed Cas is queer, and if Cas died after coming out, we’d be stuck with the Bury Your Gays trope, a mistake that the writers made with Charlie in 10.21. And anon, fans have literally never let them live it down. I don’t think they’d make the same mistake twice; they were booed at Comic Con that year and the cast all saw the backlash. Misha said in his latest panel that he could see Cas’ death as Bury Your Gays, but that he felt this scene meant something more. If Cas came back and got a happy ending, it wouldn’t be Bury Your Gays anymore

5) Misha is also like...a really bad liar. He also fumbled a lot when asked about whether it was his last episode. He emphasized that that had been the last scene he shot for 15.18, not the last scene of the season. Not to mention the cast put on a little celebration for him when he ended his tenure on the show and we know it couldn’t have happened on the same night as 15.18 because when they wrapped for the episode, Misha talked about nearly dying in a plane crash that same night. This is...what truly makes me believe...it’s Misha’s nervous babbling during the interview...

As for whether I think Dean will also return Cas’ feelings with a love confession, there’s evidence for that, too:

1) In 15.09, when Dean loses Cas in purgatory, Dean tells Cas that he has something to say. Cas tells him he heard his prayer, but the look on Dean’s face strongly suggests otherwise. Whatever he has to say, it isn’t in the prayer we heard. It’s a loose end and a very important one at that. All season they’ve stressed the consequences of Dean’s anger and Dean’s prayer was all about anger and release. Bottling up his feelings and leaving that bit of whatever Dean wanted to say unsaid wouldn’t resolve this storyline in a satisfactory way.

2) Even during the confession itself, Dean wanted to say things. He wanted more time, he told Cas not to do this, and he sobbed when Cas got pulled away. If we don’t hear anything more about Dean’s feelings and what he was going to say, it would be HIGHWAY ROBBERY, and again, an unsatisfactory resolution to his story

3) Not to mention during the same episode as the confession, Charlie and Sam both had their girlfriends taken from them. Dean had his friend taken? Um. Try boyfriend. If Dean never confesses and lets the audience know that Cas is his romantic partner, this would be very strange writing...

4) My last piece of evidence is literally the last 12 years. The mixtape, people asking him if he had a break-up whenever he fights with Cas, people asking him who he’s pining for, people asking him if he can imagine having a romantic partner who understands the life and like, just the fact that he literally loses his will to live whenever anyone tries to take Cas away from him. Like listen, I watched the last seven years of this story unfold week by week. In that manner, it’s actually harder to see how much Dean longs for him. But recently, I’ve been rewatching the show with my roommate. When you’re binging it, Dean’s incessant about it. He’s always asking about Cas when Cas is gone. He’s always hopeless, always broken without him. Sam spends like every episode comforting him about it. It would be incredibly foolish for the writers to not address Dean’s side when they went ahead with Cas’ side. Also, I’ll like literally show up at their houses with a pitchfork.

Will it be anything like Cas’ confession? Will there be a kiss? Frankly, I don’t know, but never in my life did I ever imagine something as textual as Cas’ confession either so I’m HOPEFUL, more hopeful than I’ve been in years. I do think 100% Dean will return Cas’ feelings, but whether it will be as obvious as Cas’ confession and whether the show will depict an actual romantic relationship in the finale remains to be seen.

#boredombabbles #spn spoilers #15x18 #destiel #ask #anon #I hope this helped!#ofc we don't know what's going to happen #but i have so much renewed hope after the last episode #i just...literally never thought they would go there #like listen i have been a super salty bitter and negative fan for seven years #i always stayed positive on this blog because i didn't want to get anyone down #but like literally if you had asked me in private about it #i wouldve been like NAH cas will never confess his feelings #and that cas will never come out as queer #but like WHAT THE HECK THEY ACTUALLY WENT THERE?????#and i'm never going to be the same #and i am so so HOPEFUL now #i still remain skeptical but guys i just....#for the first time i believe and i think a lot of us are going through this same thing #and i think the last episode has shown us that having faith is not a bad thing after all #this ending is for us #and it specifically it seems to be an ending for destiel fans

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xlysaaa · 3 years

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Ahhhhhh

Ok, so this might become a bit of a long post. After reading the latest Kono oto Tomare! chapter, i just have to get these feelings off my chest. It'll be random & full ramblings.

i put some panels of chapter 105 but also from 99.5 in this post.

-> lot of spoilers, so read at your own risk <-

this wont be a review or something. I just want to ramble and scream.

First of all, Chikas father . . .

I have literally no fucking words for this sorry excuse of a father! seeing this flashback made me wanna puke my fucking guts out on the floor.

how much do you have to sink as a human being to make YOUR VERY OWN CHILD think this?

What kind of human scum do you have become to tell to YOUR VERY OWN SON " It's hell. Ever since you were born, Its always been hell." ?! What kind of heartless huge shit being do you have to be to treat your very own son like he's the worst, like he isnt worth of human affection or care?!

While Chika was scared & uncomfortable, because he punched someone for the first time to defend himself, instead of talking about it the father looked at him like he was dirt.

When Chika went to the Takaokas that day in Chapter 99.5, he brought back come of the selfmade cake from Tetsukis mum, because he wanted to share it with his father, he thought he could make him happy.

look at this adorable sweet baby bean? how dare you make him cry. ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

Imagine a little smiling chika hoping his father would come back early from work to share this delicious cake with him. . . and THEN! imagine the father telling chika in his drunk state all those horrible things, while chika still cares for his father and put a blanket on him to keep him warm. Only for the faher to say ".. I cant bringt myself to love you."

We read in the latest chapter that his mother left with another man, chika cant even remember her face, because he was 2 years old. If its because of the dad, why wouldnt she take chika with her? i dont care whatever her business is, she is as much to blame as this human trash called father. There were so many moments were i had to pause for a bit cause these scenes were too heartbreaking.

Of course Chika would never treasure himself when never once did his father! How should he know how to hold himself dear, when his father never did?

I cant find even the words to describe, what i'm feeling. I feel so sick to my stomach.

I'm so glad that he had his grandpa who cherished him and gave Chika affection. He always encouraged Chika. "Hey, Chika. Dont give up on yourself" & showed him the Koto. He & Tetsuki literally pulled Chika out of the deep darkness & showed him light.

Look Chika, they're all waiting for you! T____T

- - - - - - -- - - - - - -

When Tetsuki transfered into Chikas class, a boy told him that he shouldnt get involved with chika because he's a loner & he's trouble. He said "Instead you can be friend with us" to which Tetsuki replied "Thanks. But no thanks." IN YO FACE YOU SHITTY BULLY CHILD.

Anyways, after school the boy & his friends planed to isolate Tetsuki & bully him . . welp, these boys forget chika "LAME. You guys are super lame." and off they go :'D thank to these shitty children ⬇️

a wonderful unbreakable friendship started! They became best friends who were inseparable. /chikas adorable blush q.q sweet baby bean!!!

When Chika had an argument with his father & left the house, he was bullied by middles schoolers & fought. . . it was then when they started to slowly fall apart.. Chika started to avoid Tetsuki & isolated himself again. Even when Tetsuki tried to ask what happened or tried to help him, Chika would only say "Its got nothing to do with you, do dont butt in." Tetsuki blamed himself "If only I had been there the first time Chika had fought. Maybe we could've run. Maybe we could've feigned defeat. Anything so he didnt have to deal with their attention. Any maybe he would still be . . ." He missed his best friend & was worried what would happen to Chika if he keeps going on like this..

Tetsuki was told by the teacher that his mother had an accident & needs surgery. He's waiting anxious in the hospital, hoping for the best, trying to keep the worst case thoughts away . . thats when Chika comes running into the hospital he was worried!

NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS SIMPLY PERFECTION, I CANT!!! ૮₍ ꒦꒳꒦ ₎ა❤

When Tetsukis dad said to Chika that he heard a lot about him from his wife & thanked him for supporting Tetsuki, he asked about his wounds & if they hurt. . thats when Tetsuki learns the reason, why chika kept his distance from him. He didnt want to involve him or put him in danger. "E-Everything's fine! I'm not hanging out with Tetsuki anymore, nobody's seen us together, nobody knows we're friends or anything. I would never drag him into my problems. Never."

Takaoka-papa is as wonderful as Takaoka-mama, jesus the Takaoka family is a bunch of lovely human beings, help me!!!

BONUS:

WHY ARE THEY SO DAMN WONDERFUL??/Tetsuki is so happy for chika *ugly sobbing deluxe*

I'm so glad that that he had Tetsuki right beside him, i dont wanna imagine what would have happened to Chika without his support & affection.

For me, they have one of the most wonderful & most strongest bond ever. I love their friendship so much, seriously i could probably write an essay about them & would never be able go stop. 🥺❤❤❤

Chika went through so much already, he fought his way through life, suffered, so NOW! Let him finally become happy!

Ufff, i didnt mean to make it THIS long.. but there's so much to say about this manga & the relationships chika made or the persons met.ヾ( இ⌓இ)ﾉﾞ

#kono oto tomare!#kono oto tomare #KoT #KoT 105 #Kono oto Tomare 105 #Kono oto Tomare spoiler

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

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Ret'urcye Mhi - Rogue, Chapter 7 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (F)

Summary: Can things go back to normal after the Mandalorian saw you break down? Or have walls been torn down that can’t be replaced?

Warnings: Light swearing, I don’t want to give it away but no smut but… a ‘moment’ with some certainly hot thoughts and pining but nothing heavy though, reader has a back tattoo, let me know if I forgot anything!

AN: I have brought in Cara Dune in this, and she will be a frequent character. I by no means condone what Gina Carano did, and I am pleased and relieved that she is gone. However, I do like her character, as many others do. She IS only mentioned in this one briefly but will be a main character in a few future chapters.

Also, Readers tattoo is loosely based on this design!(link) I’m not sure who the exact creator is, but it was posted by Urban Threads on Pinterest, but if you know, please tell me! ❤️

Word Count: 8231

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs

Mando’a Translation: Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye

Neither of you mentioned that afternoon.

It hadn’t come up in the 3 days since, and it hadn’t come up today. You made sure of it.

Every time Mando looked at you, and you just felt he was going to mention it, you’d change the subject. Or just walk away. You didn’t need to have that conversation with him. You couldn’t have that conversation with him. Or anyone.

The Mandalorian had sat there, holding you for the hours it took for you to cry yourself out. When the shuddering sobs had given way to hitched breaths and a numb stare, he’d still sat there. Rubbing your back in gentle circles, in time with Duru’s tail gently swaying over your arm. He hadn’t uttered a single word either, just letting you break down in his arms.

When the quiet ambiance of the ship and the pressure of his hand had lulled you into sleep, he’d carried you to his bed – well, the narrow cot that jutted out from the wall in what was supposed to be the medical area. He’d given up his sleeping compartment to Grogu a long time ago, to keep the little creature warm and safe.

He’d laid you in, covering you with the blanket and then one more that he pulled out from a unit.

You were asleep, so you hadn’t seen the way his gloved fingers gently brushed back the hair from your tear flushed cheeks, the way they’d lingered for a moment as he’d looked down at the soft strands gliding over his fingers. You hadn’t felt the way he’d frozen when a sudden want crashed through him, to yank off his gloves and run his bare hands through your hair, feel the silkiness and the texture for himself.

And you also wouldn’t have noticed the way his breathing went ragged for a moment and he’d lurched back, stumbling away so quickly he nearly overturned a box on his way out of the door.

Your sleep hadn’t remained easy. Only a few hours later, you had woken up screaming, unsure of where you were, why you were on a thin cot that smelled like metal and smoke and something distinctly unique and almost like sandalwood. It was somehow comforting, soothing. You had inhaled the scent, trying to calm down your pounding heard and regain control of your breathing.

It was only when you could suck in a full breath that you realised where you were, who’s bed this was.

A feeling of gratefulness had crashed over you, only to be immediately wiped out by shame. You had broken down in front of him, spat such awful, awful things to his face.

And when you heard footsteps outside the compartment door, the husky baritone of his voice as he called out your name softly, you’d gone still. Like you were back on the run, mere inches away from a hunter and one move would mean disaster.

He’d lingered, you could see by the shadows of his feet under the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. A wild thought had come to you, that he had his hand pressed to the door and you could just.. open it. Open it and let him come in, let him carry the burden of your nightmares and your feelings even If it was just for a little while. You could share some of those plaguing thoughts that you’d unleashed today. And he would listen. You didn’t know him that well, but you knew him enough to be confident he would sit there, let you talk. He knew what it was like to be alone, to have emotions and worries that you had no choice to bear yourself.

The temptation was so strong, you craved that contact and connection so much that you were halfway across the room before your snarling argument came back in full technicolour. The things you’d said to him. The appalling way you’d acted.

No.

You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t face him after that. After what you had said and the way you had cracked. You shook your head firmly, waiting until you heard a sigh so soft you might have imagined it and retreating footsteps.

It was only then you that you returned to the bed, pulling the twin blankets up high over your shoulders.

You’d deal with seeing him in the morning, but for now, all you could do was bury your face in the thin pillow and try not to notice how it smelt like him.

Something had changed between the two of you since that afternoon. He had glimpsed a part of you that you normally kept perfectly hidden, even from yourself.

…

You were on your way to another bounty, one of the last couple of pucks that Mando had left.

Mando had mentioned it was a hot, desert planet and he’d prefer it if you stayed in the ship with Grogu. It’d be far too hot for the little guy out there. You had obliged happily, more than fine to stay in. You didn’t like to be too hot, it made you uncomfortable and agitated.

The cockpit was quiet, a peaceful silence had descended upon it as Mando flew the ship.

You’d found yourself drawn to watching his hands lately. There was something… oddly soothing about it. Watching him work the controls, hold Grogu, clean his weapons.

You wondered if he missed the sensation of touch, and then wondered if yours and the kids presence here made it harder for him. Meant he had less chances to take off his armour and be free of it.

Of course, that had then led you onto the thought of wondering if he slept naked when he was alone.

The thought of him lying there, nothing hiding him, separating him from the world.

The thin blankets sliding over the body you knew was toned, yet soft enough in all the right places.

It made your mouth a little dry, your cheeks a little pink and you struggled to find something else to think about.

Your eyes drifted to his hands again, remembering the sound of the gloves being drawn off the other night.

They were mesmerising, agile, and you couldn’t stop thinking about them in your hair, on your skin.

Stars above, get a grip, girl.

You mentally scolded yourself for these thoughts, trying to steer your damned imagination onto something more appropriate.

Luckily, your saviour came in the form of Mando himself. He tilted his head back slightly, enough for you to know he was talking to you, “What’s your favourite planet? Or one you’d like to visit?”

The question surprised you, you had to admit. You weren’t used to people asking about your likes and dislikes. You smiled though, perhaps this was his gentle way to break any tension left over. “Hmm… I think… I’d have to say the planet I’d like to visit most... either Hoth or Coruscant.”

Mando laughed, that gorgeous rough, honey laugh, “Okay, Coruscant I can understand, but Hoth? Really?”

You pouted at the back of his head, “Yes!! It sounds beautiful.”

The Mandalorian laughed more, “Beautiful? Sweetheart, it’s covered in ice. It’s freezing there. All you would see is ice and snow… and more ice and more snow.”

You scowled at him now, throwing the leftover wrapper of Grogu’s cookies at his helmet, “And? Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled… Besides, I like the cold.”

Little did you know, Mando was grinning like an idiot under his helmet, adoring the way you defend it to him, the way you describe something as simple as ice and snow. “You like the cold, huh? Then why are you always grumbling that the heating is broken?” The teasing lilt to his voice was evident, so animated and content, compared to his usual cooler, calm silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “That is… completely irrelevant.” You looked at the back of his head, “What about you? If my choices are so hilarious.”

The Mandalorian made a thoughtful noise, “I wouldn’t say there’s one place in particular… But… there’s a few sanctuary planets dotted around. Places with really pretty, dense forests where you could walk for days and not spot anyone else. They’re protected and safe, no dangerous animals or anything allowed… literally sanctuaries. I’d like to take Grogu there… let him wander and have fun and eat things he shouldn’t without having to look over my shoulder.”

It was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go, and there was a tenderness in his voice that brought tears to your eyes. This man truly loved his little green adoptive son and would do anything for him. “That sounds... stunning. I’ve heard of those planets and always wondered what they were like...”

He made a hum of agreement, fingers working over the control panel as he put it in autopilot. “One day…” He turned around in his chair, “What about your favourite colour?”

You moved to sit cross-legged in the seat, defying the concept of a chair. “Blue. Darker blues, like a midnight blue.” You swayed your chair from side to side slightly, “Actually, the same colour as the cloak you got me. So well done, kudo’s for you.”

Mando leant back in his own chair, tapping the side of his helmet before resting his hands on his thighs again. “This thing lets me read minds; you know.”

You began pulling the pins from your hair, “Mmhm, and I can fly.” You raise an eyebrow at him, grinning.

He chuckled, watching you intently behind the helmet though you wouldn’t know that, watching every pin get removed from holding up your hair, “It wouldn’t surprise me at this point, princess.” He tapped his thighs absently, “You wanna know the real secret?”

You nodded, reaching in for a pin that had become stuck deep in your hair, the last one. “Surprise me.” Got it. You yanked the pin out, letting your hair fall down and your fingers through it. You sighed a little in relief as you rubbed your fingertips against your scalp, chasing away any tightness from the day.

Mando didn’t say anything. He was too distracted, to struck into silence by the sight of your hair.

The light from the ship and coming in through the windows turned some of the strands to gold, igniting them with that fire that blazed within you – and that he’d been on the receiving end.

His hands tightened over his thighs, because he was overtaken by a craving, a need to remove your hands and feel your hair for himself.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts.

Fuck, he’d been having these thoughts since he first saw you. He just hadn’t realised them until that night he’d nearly lost his life and woken up to you passed out on his chest.

He’d frozen, even his breathing stopping as he felt the warm weight of you, even though the armour.

He couldn’t bear to move you, to take away that pressure, the closeness of another human that he had missed for so long.

So, he hadn’t. He left you there. Spent hours watching you sleep, the warmth of your breath slightly fogging up the armour on his chest.

“Lori? Anyone in there?” You tilted your head, watching the man before you that was staring at you intently, his breathing somewhat ragged.

He startled slightly, coming back to himself, “Huh?”

You chuckled, “Where did you go? I was waiting for you to knock me off my feet with your revelation.”

He made a noise, “Uh… I.. actually can’t remember...” He tugged at his glove, an odd gesture so at odds with his usual confident demeanour.

You tilted your head, still smiling a little, “Are you okay?”

Luckily, he was saved from answering by the beeping of the controls behind him.

You’d arrived at the planet.

It was hot.

Beyond hot.

The air was warm, the water was warm, you were warm.

And already awake, having just calmed your breathing down from another nightmare, when you heard Grogu, his little coos and gurgled filtering down the hall to you.

The poor little creature had probably woken up from the heat. You had been on this desert planet for a couple of days, opting to stay in and look after the Child whilst Mando hunted down the bounty. The days here were scorching, a dry heat that sucked the life from you immediately. Even the nights were hot, unlike normal freezing desert nights.

Mando had returned this evening, panting from the heat after coming up from the carbonite chamber. “I swear it’s getting hotter out there.”

The cooling system on the Crest was just as temperamental as the heating, so it wasn’t exactly cool in here. The metal floors, which were normally always chilled, were warm underfoot. Mando had let you keep his room, and it was just as hot, being contained in with itself, so you’d been sleeping with the doors open.

Not that it made a dent. Every single closed space was like a heat trap, especially Grogu’s little compartment. So, no wonder he had woken up.

You stretched, then slipped from the cot and made your way to Grogu.

It didn’t take long to settle him, he was all tuckered out from the games you’d been playing today, so after patting his skin with a cool cloth, he had fallen back under.

You were now at the small ‘kitchen’ area in the ship, washing out the cloth. You huffed, splashing some water on your wrists and pulling out the pin that was holding up your hair, and falling out. Grogu had a habit of tugging the ends of your hair in his little fist.

You’d taken to wearing a thin floaty dress to bed, one you’d picked up in that market before it had turned into a horror show. The material was gauzy, allowing the heat to escape your body without it sticking to your clammy skin. What helped enormously was the large cut out in the back. It secured at the back of your neck, and then fell open, exposing almost your whole back before joining again at the base of your spine.

It was probably the flimsiest, most sinful thing you’d ever worn, but it was gorgeous and hey, it did the job.

You rolled your shoulders, pressing the cool cloth to your neck and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips and you could have sworn you heard a sizzle.

Footsteps behind you startled you, breaking you from your reverie, and then Mando’s voice filtered through the silence, “Are you okay?”

You turned around, smiling when you saw him because he was still in all his armour… not that you were surprised. He must have been boiling though, under all those heavy layers.

You nodded, lifting the cloth from your neck, “The kid was awake, but I settled him down, he was really warm.”

His head was covered, naturally, so you wouldn’t have seen the way his eyes followed a bead of water rolling down your neck, and the unbidden thought of his tongue catching it “Thank you for seeing to him, I didn’t hear..”

Weird. Normally he was so attuned to Grogu, hearing him before he even woke up if you were sitting together. Maybe he was tired, from his hunting.

What you didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that he had been staring at the ceiling for the 3rd night in a row. Having thoughts that he should not be having, his body yearning for things it shouldn’t.

You shook your head, still smiling and turned back to the sink area, “It’s no worries, I was awake anyway so… And you’ve been hunting. You deserve the rest.” You set down the cloth, running your hands through your hair and reaching for your pin to secure it back up. You faced him again, gathering your hair in your hands, “How was it?”

But he wasn’t listening.

He suddenly moved forward, and then he was in front of you. “Wait.” His voice was low, almost strained. There was a husk to it that hadn’t been there before, but it ignited something within you.

You froze, your hands still stuck in your hair. You looked up at him, raising your eyebrows slightly, “What..?” It was only now he was right in front of you that you could see his chest, rising and falling rapidly. “Mando, are you okay?”

He shook his head quickly, his helmet tilted down to you, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, “Let your hair down.” His voice was still that rumbly order, and it was such an odd request that you did just that, letting it tumble back down again. Your own hands trembled slightly as you lowered them.

A shudder seemed to roll through his body, and he rocked forward on his feet, lurching toward you in a movement that lacked his usual smooth elegance. It was unsteady, unsure.

He stopped when he was a mere few inches away, the closest you’d been to each other since that afternoon.

This close, you could practically feel the heat roiling off of him under his armour, and you tilted your head up to meet him, concern in your eyes, “Mando, you need to go and have a cold shower.. You sound like you’re burning up… do you feel flushed?”

He shook his head jerkily, his hands raising, “Shh… please. I just.. I need to..” He broke off, a sharp intake of air cutting his words.

Something else began to curl through the worry in your belly, like some instinct knew things you didn’t. You swallowed, your voice low when you next spoke, “You need to what..?”

The Mandalorian was shaking, his body tensing and untensing like he was fighting himself, telling himself not to do this. “I.. I need to touch your hair.”

Stars, you could feel the flush that crept up his neck and cheeks, like it burned through his helmet but you stayed completely still.

His words were whispered through gritted teeth, like he was physically trying to bite them back, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-” He sounded like he was in pain, still breathing raggedly.

Heat flared through your blood, igniting a flame within you that was irresistible. You nodded, letting him see you, “Okay.” Like you could say no to him.

The vocoder nearly didn’t pick up the huff of relief that escaped his lips and he curled his hands into fists again, “Turn around. And close your eyes.” That rough command was back and you were more than obliging to let him navigate this moment.

You turned around, facing the kitchen area, looking over the darkened surroundings before shutting your eyes. It immediately threw all your other senses into overdrive, so you could hear every single rasp of his breath as you exposed your skin to him, and the pounding of your own heart.

“You have to keep them closed. You cannot turn around or look.” There was a desperate plea in his voice, an edge to it that hurt your very soul. He was audibly torn, between his Creed… and this desire that he seemed to have given into.

You nodded again, aching to reach back and reassure him, “I won’t. I won’t open my eyes or turn around until you tell me, I swear on it, Lori.” You let every ounce of truth and understanding seep through your words, praying that it would be enough to convince him he could trust you.

Seemingly, it was, because the next noise that you heard could have struck you dead.

It was the sound of leather rubbing against skin, the friction as they were pulled off, then a soft thump of the material on the floor.

He had taken off his gloves.

He was standing behind you… with his hands bare.

You. A person he hasn’t known for very long at all, and he was partially bare, uncovered.

Your head exploded, a million thoughts racing through it once, sending your heart into overdrive and your own breathing rapid and unsteady.

There was a pause, like he was steeling himself and then… then the slightest sensation, like he was catching the ends of your hair, just brushing them.

That simple movement sent a shiver down your spine, and it was enough to get him to move more. He lifted his hands and then you felt fingers slide into your hair at the back of your head, then slowly, slowly, drag down the length.

You heard a sharp intake of breath behind you, and then a soft mutter, “It’s so soft..” You barely picked it up, even though the ship was silent. The fingers ghosted through your hair again, and his voice was bewildered, “How do you get it this soft in that tiny ‘fresher..” It was like he was talking to himself.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh, a release of tension from this whole thing, “I can’t reveal my secrets, Lori. Can’t have your hair being softer than mine. There’s only room for one on this ship.”

He chuckled, and it ran over your bones like honey, dousing them in such a sweet sensation. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another, princess.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t get the chance to speak because then his fingers were running up your scalp from the base of your head to the crown, with a light pressure and the feeling was so unbelievably good, that you couldn’t help it. Your head leant back into his touch and the faintest sigh left your lips. “Keep doing that..” Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment crashing over you. Why did you have to say that?

The Mandalorian’s hands had paused, absorbing that soft sigh of pleasure and trying to cool his body. But you had a hold over him, he couldn’t say no. He merely did it again, with a firmer press of his fingers against your scalp, a light scrape of his nails just to get you to make that noise again, to be convinced that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You didn’t stop the next sigh, this one louder, more delighted. It was like you knew what the other was thinking, could read each other that well.

He was driving you insane, rendering you speechless just from playing with your hair.

You don’t know how long you stood there for, his hands running through the soft locks.

He lifted it slightly, then made a soft noise. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

A tattoo? Oh right.

It was true, you did. It was a delicate piece, spanning from the top of your spine to just above your hips, lining your spine. It showed the phases of the moon, drawn in a minimalist style, with small stars and additional lines coming out of every other piece.

You nodded quickly, “I’ve had it for years.” Fuck, could your voice sound anymore needy?

“What does it mean?” His words were murmured and then the next thing could have had you on your knees.

You heard a sound that had haunted you since the night he nearly died, the sound of leather sliding over skin. The soft plop as it fell to the floor.

No way. Has he just..

His fingers, his bare fingers ghosted down your spine, following the line of it with a touch so fleeting it almost made you whine.

In fact, it did, a whimper rising from deep in your chest.

He was touching you.

His bare skin, skin that he had sworn by Creed to keep covered and hidden until marriage, was trailing down your spine as light as wings.

Pleasure shot straight though you, making your nerves and blood sing, making your knees shake and your belly hot.

A tug on your hair, a tug that was sharp enough to send a faint tinge of pain through your scalp had you moaning, you couldn’t help it. Your lips parted and the moan fell from them, soft, a little high and drawn.

Mando swore under his breath, his whole body twitching behind yours, “I asked you a question, sweetheart.” There was a hoarseness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a straining note like your moan had shot right through him. Which is had.

What does it mean… what does it mean? Focus!!

“Um… right. When I was on the run, initially in the beginning, I never had a place to call home. Everything I knew had been torn away, and I could never settle anywhere. Every night, I would look up into the sky and watch the moon. No matter what planet I was on, no matter where I was, or if there two moons or 4, it was always there. I only had to look up, and there was something up there to ground me, give me some sense of comfort. It might look smaller, or be a different colour, but it was still the moon. And it made me feel… safe. Like it was a… a companion in a way. I just had to look a little closer, beneath the colours or the distance and there it was. It was always in the sky, so I wanted to get it tattooed so that it would always be with me. No matter if I was outside, as free as I could be, or inside and trapped.” You flushed a little, “That probably makes no sense and sounds so stupid.”

You could sense the Mandalorian shaking his head, his voice still low and soft, “No.. I think it’s beautiful. And I get it. I move around so much too, there’s only a few things that always remain the same. So I know the value of having something familiar.” He ghosted his fingers down it again, trailing all the way down to where the cut out portion of your dress stopped and then back up again.

When his hand reached the top of the tattoo, he slid it up further, cupping the back of your neck in his broad, warm hand.

It sent electricity shooting across your skin, that blazed as he wrapped his thumb and fingers around either side of your neck, just a gentle pressure there.

You moaned again; you didn’t even try to hide it. Your head fell back, exposing your throat to him in a sign of instinctual submission, even though you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. You didn’t mind, you just needed more, more than this teasing touch, more than the faint brush of his fingertips. Your chest shuddered, knuckles white as you gripped the counter in an effort to stay still, “Lori…” You whined his name, hoping it would spark something in him, would force him to do something.

You felt him shudder again, felt his hips draw back from your body like he was trying to hide just what these noises did to him.

Fuck.

It burned you, turned your belly molten and the power that washed over you was heady. You had turned him on just from your hair, your skin and your moans.

The voice that came out was equally as tight, husky and you might have lived and died inside the low baritone “What is it, princess?”

Your fingers curled around the side of the counter in front of you, and you were glad he couldn’t see your face when you whispered, “Please..”. Your voice was low, pleading and aching.

You felt him shudder behind you, a tiny groan echoing through the helmet.

His next words nearly undid you there and then, “Like I could say no to you.”

Then his fingers pressed into your spine, caressing down your back over the tattoo with such admiration, such warmth that it arched slightly, chasing more of that sensation.

Your head was spinning, convinced you were dreaming, that this wasn’t real.

This didn’t happen between you both.

You flirted, sure. But that was harmless, playful.

This… this was real. He was letting you feel his bare skin, uncovered and unhidden.

And it was tearing you apart.

The scrape of his thumbnail on your skin tore you from those thoughts, ripped you back to the present as it ran down the curve of your back. If your eyes had been open, they would have rolled into the back of your head.

Your head fell forward, back arching completely into him and the sound that you let out was sinful. You could only concentrate on the that sharp, pleasurable hurt that you felt in your belly, the feeling of his other hand as it held your shoulder, holding you in that arch.

Heat pooled low in your belly, and every dream, every thought you’d been trying to suppress about him came blasting into full technicolour. All because of his hands.

Those damn hands you’d been pining over since saving his life.

His head was so close over your shoulder that you could hear the low pant of his breath, the coolness of his armour barely brushing your shoulders as you pressed back into him.

Fuck, did he want this as much as you did?

By the way his hand tightened, he had to. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you did.

You swallowed, licking your lips to say something, anything, spur him on but a harsh beeping suddenly broke through the thick tension on the room. A light was flashing, and by the time the fog of pleasure cleared in your head, he was gone.

Gloves picked up and yanked on, boots disappearing up the ladder into the cockpit to check on the autopilot.

The taut sensation in your body snapped, making you sink to the floor as though the strings had been cut.

You lifted shaking hands to your face, burying them in them with a low noise. Your head was a mess, you couldn’t get over it. Couldn’t stop feeling his fingers on your back, your hair. Hear the ragged pant of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against your shoulders.

It was just touch, just the simple act of touch but it had igniting something so fierce within you.

Something had changed.

What the fuck was that?

You sat there on the floor for Maker knows how long, before dragging yourself up and hurrying off in search of a very, very cold shower.

You weren’t quite sure how to face him the next morning.

You had taken your cold shower, and it had done nothing to cool the fire in your blood so you had to take the initiative, hoping the crash of the water and the fact you were biting down the back of your free hand would cover the desperate moans you made.

Little did you know, the Mandalorian was going through the exact same thing, back arched, lips biting into his lip to stop the groans.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, stop thinking about what had occurred between you.

Surely it broke some kind of rules of his Creed?

He had touched you with his bare skin. You weren’t married. You weren’t together. You didn’t even know his name.

Yet he had touched you and.. reacted to you.

Maybe that was just instinct, his body’s natural response to such things.

But he had carried on… until you were disturbed anyway.

Your head went round and round in these circles until your body had calmed down enough to sleep.

…

You rose early, wanting to be washed, dressed and ready and doing something to occupy you before you had to think too much about what you were going to say. Maybe just… Good morning?

Sure. Good morning was fine.

Normal.

It totally didn’t reveal what you’d had to do in the shower, or the thoughts you were still having about it.

You had this discussion with yourself all the way up the ladder of the cockpit, and when you rose to your height, you blurted it out in a cheery voice before you could bail, “Morning!”

Breezy. Nailed it.

The Mandalorian was sitting in the pilot’s chair, fiddling with controls and levers, gloves firmly on. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay in the heat?”

You nodded, sinking down into the pilots chair and feeding Duru a treat, “Yes, thank you. Finally.” You stroked under Duru’s chin, your eyes straying to those hands as he slide them over some switches.

The same hands that had cupped the back of your neck and trailed fire down your spine.

A flush started to creep along your cheeks, so you quickly looked away, “Did you?”

The light bounced off of his helmet as he nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Polite. His words were polite. Almost... distant.

Okay… Okay, so maybe he just feels awkward?

You bit your bottom lip, worried if you should say something.

No, leave it. He no doubt feels over-exposed and maybe shy about what happened last night. Don’t bring it up. Just act normal.

You nodded faintly to yourself and returned your attention back to Duru.

Mando was ignoring you.

You had been trying to deny it, but he most certainly was.

Yesterday, he had engaged in talking to you now and then throughout the day, but only passing comments and a few spare words.

You had spoken more when you were beating the shit out of each other.

You kept telling yourself that it was just lingering awkwardness from how to go back to normal after that night, but the gnawing in your gut told you otherwise.

It had been shouting at you this morning when he had parked the ship on a planet, announced he was going hunting and he’d be back in a few hours.

Then he’d just gone.

You had waited for him all day, mooched around the ship, played with Grogu and Duru and tried not to worry.

You sat up for hours, even when the little ones had gone to sleep, waiting to talk to him.

You’d convinced yourself that you should talk about. You should tell him you didn’t expect anything from him. That you didn’t hate him, that he didn’t hurt you or anything like that.

Just to tell him whatever you needed to stop this frostiness.

You had it all planned, had every phrase and comment worked out to stop this atmosphere.

About 15 minutes ago, you’d heard the ramp open. 3 minutes after that, the hiss and echo of the carbonite chamber.

Then you’d heard him go and check on the kid, then go to his quarters.

And now, it was his booted feet on the steps to the cockpit that held your attention.

You took a deep breath, prayed to the Maker and spun your seat to face him as he rose up.

The mere sight of that beskar-clad body set your heart thumping, but you coaxed an easy smile on your lips anyway. “Hey, how was the hunt? Cause you any trouble?”

Mando didn’t turn his head to look at you, just padded over to his seat and spun it to the control panel, “It was fine. Easy.” His words were clipped, not harsh, just… efficient. Straight to the point.

You swallowed, your courage faltering a little.

Mentally, you scolded yourself. You didn’t falter in the face of a man who’d touched you and now wouldn’t talk to you. You didn’t whimper and pander to a tense atmosphere.

You sat up a little straighter, pulling your shoulders back and you looked over at him.

Now or never.

“About the other night-”

“I’m taking you to Nevarro.”

What?

You had both spoken at the same time, your eyes now bewildered as you beheld him. “What?”

He said nothing, just fiddled with some controls.

“Mando, what do you mean?” Your voice was shocked, but steady. Did nothing to betray the shock that had just hit your chest like a punch.

You didn’t hear him swallow, only heard his words, “I’m taking you to Nevarro. We’re on the way now.” He said them softly, evenly.

Hearing it again only made your heart drop to somewhere around your waist.

He was leaving you. Dumping you on some planet. And going.

Your hand tapped your leg as sort of nervous habit, and then the words were out, “Is this because of the other night?”

It was his turn to sound bewildered, his head just turning to the side, but you knew he couldn’t see you in his peripheral, “What? What do you mean?”

Your heart was starting to beat uncomfortably in your chest, a sense of shame beginning to creep over you, “Because of what happened in the kitchen. I didn’t see you, I didn’t see your skin.”

Mando turned to face you, one hand still on the panel, his hair half turned but head rotated all the way to look at you, “No, no it’s not because of that-“

You cut him off, “You didn’t… you didn’t offend me. Or hurt me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry if.. if my reaction made you feel awkward or think something. I don’t.. I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I never have, so please don’t think that.” You flushed, the shame colouring your cheeks. You couldn’t help it. But this was the reason, right? The only reason why he would be dumping you.

He shook his head, “Stop. Stop..” His voice softened slightly, “No. It’s not because of… that. I know you didn’t see me. And I know you don’t expect anything from me.” He took a breath, “I’m taking you to Nevarro to keep you safe. That’s all. I have friends there, Cara Dune and Greef Karga. They’ll look after you. They’ve already set up accommodation for you, so you don’t need to worry about that.

They already knew?

Something like hurt flashed in your eyes, colouring your tone, “They… You already planned this..?” There was no bite in your voice like you would normally have in this situation, you were too shocked by the sudden change in direction your journey was taking.

Mando tilted his head, “I contacted them whilst I was on the hunt… I wanted it set up before we got there, so you wouldn’t stand out to anyone looking.” He still looked at you, “Is that okay?”

You sensed you wouldn’t have a choice in this. So you decided to take the high road. You wouldn’t whine about this.

You smoothed your expression over into a mask of calm, “Yes… I was just a little surprised that’s all. But thank you, really. I’ll… set about packing my things.”

He sounded confused, his head tilting back to watch you rise from your chair, “We have a couple of days yet.”

You nodded, “Oh, I know, I just want to make sure I have everything. And all the things I want to steal from you.” You laughed, even going so far as to nudge his shoulder before escaping.

You were gone to quickly, so you wouldn’t have seen the way he slumped in his chair, dropped his head into his hands. You wouldn’t have heard the pained sigh that escaped his lips at the thought have having to part with you.

The Mandalorian stood at the top of the ramp with you, staring out across the dusty, volcanic terrain of Nevarro. Your new home for… however long.

You said nothing, running your fingers along the edge of your cloak, observing the landscape and trying not to let any emotion show on your face. You had kept up natural conversation the past few days. Saying nothing of the wrenching pain that tore in your chest every time you remembered you were departing.

Mando cleared his throat, one arm holding Grogu and the other hand resting on his hip in a gesture that was becoming painfully familiar, “Cara and Greef know you’re coming. They’ll be waiting in Cara’s office for you.”

Grogu was sulking, squirming every now and then to try and get out of Mando’s grip. He had screamed the whole morning, and only calmed down when you hugged him and sung to him on the way here.

You nodded, also trying to ignore the thoughts swirling round in your mind as to why he was leaving you here. Was it because of your argument? The way you had broken down in front of him? Or was it because of the other night? The way his fingers had run through your hair, and then trailed down your spine, mapping your tattoo. His bare fingers. The things he’d whispered to you, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days..”

Had he known then that he was going to leave you here? Or was it after that, that he’d decided he had broken one too many rules and had to get rid of you.

Words floated over to you, and you realised he was talking again so you hauled your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“-safe here. No one will come looking for you. Greef has taken all the pucks that have come through with your name on them and Cara will do sweeps every couple of days to make sure.”

You looked down at your feet, a bitter feeling leeching through your veins that was getting stronger with every moment you got closer to leaving the Crest.

“Hey… look at me..”

It was that honey softness of the Mandalorian’s tone that finally had you looking up at him, your expression perfectly masked to hide every ounce of emotion in you aside from a calm neutrality.

He tilted his head a little, turning his body toward you, “Please don’t think I’m dumping you here. I had planned to bring you here since I destroyed the puck and the fob.”

Like that made you feel any better.

He must have read the flicker in your eyes, because he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your upper arm, “I want you to be safe.” You could almost feel his eyes boring into yours, “I am more than grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And the kid. More than you’ll ever know. But, travelling with me.. it only increases the target on your back. People know you’re with me. I don’t want that for you.. you deserve to be free..”

And what about what I want?

You only smiled, forcing your expression to one of a lighter one and you nudged him gently, “Hey, I get it. You have to get rid of me because I’m showing you up on hunts. Can’t have anyone destroying your infamous reputation.” You rolled your eyes, laughing even if it did send daggers into your heart.

And his.

He squeezed your shoulder playfully, then dropped his hand. “You’re hilarious. I told you, the day you beat me is the day the stars implode.” You could feel a line of humour in his voice though, and it softened your shoulders, made you relax.

He was doing this to keep you safe. He had planned this for weeks so you could have a break, a chance to rest.

So, you lifted your head a little higher, your smile becoming more real. “Thank you, Mando. For everything. I can’t ever repay you for this, for what you’ve done.” You motioned to the outside.

He nodded, his hand resting at his sides again now, “We’ll call it even.” His head remained focused on you, lingering on you and then he reached into a pouch and held out his free hand, “Here.”

You let him drop the objects in your hand, a small stack of credits.

“It’s not much, I know, but it’ll be enough to get you some food and supplies you need. You don’t need to worry about a place to stay, Cara will show you but… You can get what you want and need.” He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly.

You swallowed, closing your hand around the credits and you slipped them into the pocket inside your cloak. “Thank you..”

The Mandalorian merely nodded again, leaning back against the threshold of the ramp, his thumb absently rubbing circles on Grogu’s belly.

It seemed that there was nothing else to draw this goodbye out, so you took a breath, straightening your cloak. “Well… I guess I’ll say goodbye then.” You looked up at him, then stuck out your hand for his, realising only a few seconds later how dumb that was.

Before you could pull your hand back, he reached out and clasped your hand in his own, wrapping his fingers around your distinctly smaller hand. “Goodbye… princess.” You heard the smirk in his voice, and you couldn’t help the chuckle and the eye roll again, not failing to notice the way his hand tightened involuntarily and then withdrew.

You looked at Grogu in his other arm, who was still avoiding looking at the pair of you, wriggling in his father’s arms. You bent down to draw your face to his level and you stroked his ears, “I’ll miss you, little guy. Make sure to keep your dad on his toes, okay? You gotta make up for both of us now.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his little hand pat your cheek with a mournful noise. Tears burned the back of your eyes, so you leant back, instead picking up Duru so she could say goodbye.

Grogu cooed sadly again, stroking Duru’s cheek, looking up at her with his glossy eyes.

You let Duru but her head against him, chitter a goodbye and then you stepped back, allowing her to climb up your shoulders as you looked up at Mando.

You just watched him for a moment, his armour reflecting the light on one side and then, with a soft inhale of courage, you turned and walked down the ramp, Duru padding at your feet.

You had only just cleared the ramp, stepping onto the hard, compacted ground when Mando called out, “Wait.”

You turned quickly, hope blooming in your heart, in your expression though you tried to stop it.

He had made a step onto the ramp, body poised like it was trying to run to you but he was holding back. He hesitated, almost as if he were torn with what to say – or what not to say, but all that came out was, “Ret'urcye mhi.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that licked down your spine, the way his voice turned into dripping honey when he spoke Mando’a. “What does that mean..?” You prayed he couldn’t hear the slight hoarseness to your tone.

He tilted his head down to look at Grogu, then lifted it back up to you, “It means goodbye…. And maybe we’ll meet again..”

Your heart swelled a little, a flush of pain going through it but you smiled softer, your expression melting and you inclined your head slightly, “I would like that.. very much…”

There were a million other things that threatened to roll off your tongue, pour from you but before they could, you turned around, walking toward the town and feeling his eyes on you the entire time, burning into the back of your head like a fiery brand.

You were about 4 metres away when you heard Grogu start crying, when your own tears broke through and spilled down your cheeks. You kept walking, even when your vision began to blur and go fuzzy.

So you didn’t see the way Mando hugged Grogu closer, whispered, “I know, kid, I don’t want her to go either.”

You’d be okay. It would be fine.

So you and the Mandalorian were parting. It was no big deal. You had helped each other; you had returned each other’s debts. You owed each other nothing.

The sound of engines whirring filtered into your ears, and you waited until you heard the Crest lift from the ground before turning round.

You paused, wiping your cheeks as the ship that had become a haven of sorts lifted into the sky. It hovered for a second, as if hesitating and then shot up higher, taking with it the two people that you had come to mean more to you than you realised. It felt like the Razor Crest had taken your heart with it.

How comes you hadn’t realised before how much they meant?

Too late now.

You remained watching the sky, long after the ship had vanished into the atmosphere.

With a shuddering breath, you wiped your cheeks. You kissed Duru’s tail, and then returned to walking toward the town.

You’d be okay… right?

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin blurb #grogu #the force #star wars #rogue

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amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 6: Gravity

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: sexual innuendos and allusions! there’s also mentioning of taking off clothing while our narrator’s snoozing (consensual, i promise!)

Summary: “He’s dead.”

You sit down in the holding bay, still confused. “But—”

“I slit his throat,” he says, his voice unreadable through the modulator. “I’m not collecting anything for him.”

Suddenly, too quickly, it all comes rushing into focus. The bounty was Merle. You stifle a small sob, trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Regardless if you left the Crest in that ridiculous, half-baked runaway attempt, Mando would have brought Merle back to the ship. Either way, you would have been face to face with your past, painfully, quickly. But Mando could have gotten money for him, you realize, he could have dragged Merle alive back to the ship, to trade him into the Guild. But he didn’t. He killed him instead, to protect you.

You gasp again, trying to find the words to thank him, for protecting you even when you didn’t deserve it. Even without having to ask him. “I—thank you,” you manage. “Thank you, so much.”

You aren’t shaken awake. And you don’t wake up in Mando’s arms.

When you do slowly slide your eyes open, itchy and dry with sleep still clinging onto the corners, and stretch your arms up over your head. Eyes still closed, you feel around for the blindfold that lived there the night before, then realize there’s a breeze on your legs, and your eyes fly open.

You aren’t wearing pants. You feel around, and you realize the shirt that you’re wearing is very much not yours. The underwear you have on are considerably fancier than your normal ones, and everything around you smells like Mando’s soap. Suddenly, you’re wide awake.

You shiver, standing shakily, rubbing the goosebumps that have risen on your arms. Did the Mandalorian strip you down after you slept and redress you, willingly, in lacy underwear and his clothes?

You’re absentmindedly pinching the fabric of his shirt, trying to remember why you bought the panties you have on in the first place, because they’re lacy and slightly itchy and very much not practical, running a hand through your hair—and then you remember the events of last night and why you’re wearing something clean. When you came, you soaked everything clean through, and you were sweaty and dirty from your run-in with Merle, and now Mando—

“Mando,” you say, your voice quiet, and then, rising in volume, “Mando!”

A helmeted head pops up the hole in the floor of the cockpit. “Good morning.”

“Good—are you washing my clothes?”

His helmet turns back to where your clothes are strewn all over the floor in various states of wetness. The baby is sitting in the middle of it all, making a mess out of the ones Mando has very carefully laid out on the ground. Your heart soars. For some reason, this alone makes you want to cry, the gesture of it all swelling inside you.

“Yes,” he says slowly, and then you’re grinning and scrambling down the ladder, and he sighs from behind you, and you register the reason for the noise when he hitches his big, gloved hands around your hips to help you down the last few steps and slides a single finger under the lace of the waistband. You shudder, the memory of the last time he touched you, all the events of the night before clenching and flooding through your stomach. It flips over for him as he turns you around, gentle but intentioned, and even with the baby watching, he pulls his other hand away from where it’s tangled in your waistband to push the hair out of your face. You sigh, happily, leaning into the glove.

“And you put these clothes on me?”

He looks at you, down at his shirt and the fancy underwear, and he inhales, sharply, and then says, “Yes. But I didn’t do anything—I just wanted to get you out of the dirty clothes.”

Your cheeks flush with the memory associated with the word dirty, and you grin up at him, putting a hand on his shoulder, then on the side of his helmet to pantomime touching his face. “Thank you.” You lean in, making sure the baby is preoccupied, and then, to reassure him in his decision to strip you down after you were asleep, you whisper, “you can get me out of my dirty clothes every night if you want to.”

“Maybe I will.”

You smile again, then gesture at the lace that’s riding high on your hips, very aware that his shirt only hits just past your ass, where the bottom half of both cheeks is totally exposed. “You certainly dressed me up.”

“They were the only ones clean,” he confesses, pointing at the small quantity of rest of your clothes you had hastily rescued from the X-Wing crash, only because they were already in your bag as you were climbing out of the broken cockpit. You really hadn’t done laundry recently, because you lived on the ship and they hadn’t gotten dirty. But after last night’s events, you had a feeling you would be running clean through the small stock of clothes you did own, and you blush again.

“You didn’t just want me in the lace?” you ask, and he exhales slowly through the modulator. You can tell, even disguised through the helmet, that your question hit in the right spot. You step closer, just slightly, and press your hip and the very top part of your leg in between is, and you can feel him harden underneath your touch.

“Let’s pretend I did.”

You smile, winking at him, stepping back against the coolness of the ladder, and you shudder again. “I’m cold.”

He looks from you to the drying clothes on the floor, to the baby, who coos in agreement. You tiptoe over and pick the kid up, reveling at how quickly he latches onto you, burying his little green fuzzy head into the crook of your neck. You smile over at his dad, loose hair falling in your face again, and Mando just looks at you, and even without the read on his facial expression, you can tell he’s smiling back at you. In whatever way his smile looks like.

This is it, you think, and it’s with that bigness and sureness that you felt the first time that you met him and the baby. This is what the rest of your life looks like. You sigh happily, twirling, trying to find something dry enough to put on.

“Wear this,” Mando says, and you unfold the ball of black he’s handing you the best you can with only one hand. It’s a pair of black pants, soft but worn, sizes bigger than you typically choose for yourself.

“These will fall right off me.”

He tilts his helmet at you, silently, and you burn with the knowledge of his insinuation.

You grin. “Maybe I’ll tie them tight.”

“You can,” he offers, and you press another kiss to the baby’s forehead, and he sighs sleepily in your arms, “but that’ll just make it harder for me to get into them later.”

Your heart does a flip. “Oh yeah?”

“It’s your choice.”

You pull them on, clumsily, and when you’re standing and clothed again, Mando grabs your face with one hand and pulls you into him. “Why won’t you get into them now?”

He plucks the baby out of your grasp, sighing. “Because I have to go see Karga and collect more bounty pucks.”

The gravity of realization that that’s what you’re doing here is sobering and quick. You feel heavy with remembering that there’s a life outside of the Razor Crest, and somewhere in the back of your mind, the shame and guilt you feel from ever trying to leave it pulses. Yesterday already feels like a lifetime ago.

“Oh.”

“I don’t want to,” he allows, but his voice already sounds distant. Your heart sinks, and you know you’re being selfish, you know that you can’t get in the way of his literal job, but Maker, you want to. You want to hole away with him on this ship, impenetrable from the dangers that awaited you both outside, for as many years as you both had left.

“I don’t want you to,” you whisper, something you would have been terrified you’d scare him away with even just a few days ago, but he sighs again and lets you rest your hand in his gloved palm, just for a second.

“I’ll be fast,” he says, and then he climbs the ladder without another word.

You stand there, confused at his abruptness, and then you slip on some socks that aren’t sopping wet and you follow him. When you get up to the cockpit, you realize that the Crest is about to touch down on Nevarro. You look, dazed, at the navigation panel, and realize you must have slept twelve hours or so last night to swallow up all the distance between here and Dantooine.

You hadn’t ever slept that well. Not even on Yavin when you were a kid. Not even in your own ship, before you lost it to the smuggler. You curl into a ball on the copilot’s chair, tucking your knees up to your chest. Nevarro’s volcanic surface hisses and bubbles as Mando parks close to the same town he met you in. He’s come back here since he picked you up, but you had always slept through the quick transaction.

“Can I come with you?” The question is blurted out of your mouth, way too fast for you to catch it, and then it’s out in the air, and you’re so anxious for his response.

“No,” he says, quietly, and that same swooping, sinking feeling in your chest serves as a bitter and stubborn reminder that you’ll never get used to him rejecting your ideas. That fear of rejection had put you in orbit of last night’s events, you remember, embarrassed, especially with the memory of why last night’s events had even transpired. Because you left the ship, and you got yourself into danger.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, and then his seat is turning around, and you jut your chin onto your knee so that your loose, messy hair hangs in your face, and you don’t have to look at him or his armor head on.

He sighs, more air than anything else, and then he’s tucking your hair behind your ear again, such a small but fierce gesture, and you hum into his hand.

“Nevarro isn’t safe,” he whispers, his voice falling flat under the modulator. “It’s never been, but even with the town rebuilt and revamped…”

You nod, closing your eyes. You understand. He’s protecting you, and no matter how much you want to cling to his side everywhere he goes, you know you’re both in more danger when he has you to worry about, too. Even if you were once a Rebel and a fighter pilot, you were better at the helm than you were on your two clumsy feet, and even Nevarro’s molten surface was dangerous.

“I’ll be here,” you say, and he’s slipping the commlink around your wrist.

“Don’t take this off,” he insists, kneeling down to level his visor with your eyes. You nod, tipping your forehead against it, just for a second, just so he knows you won’t run this time. He slides his hand over your cheek before he checks on the sleeping baby in his cradle, descends the ladder, and steps out of the Crest.

You sit there, happily, trying to close your eyes and relive the memory of last night. You can’t have been there for more than a handful of minutes before the commlink buzzes and your heart flips over, sliding from your lazy position in the chair that’s become yours into the pilot’s seat, just in case he’s ran into any trouble.

“I’m fine,” he reassures, and you sigh into it.

“What happened to ‘only for emergencies’?” you tease, and when nothing but silence radiates back over the line to you, you swallow. He’s trying to talk to you, and you just made fun of him for it. You smack your forehead, lightly, and then press the button again. “I like that when I’m hearing from you, it’s not an emergency. Love it, actually.”

He sighs, and you wait with bated breath to try and decode it. “I thought I’d narrate what I’m seeing for you.”

“Oh,” you say, and fold yourself up again, in his chair, wearing his clothes. Your heart is beating fast and hard, and you realize you’re giddy with excitement. “Do tell.”

“There’s lava,” he says, and then he’s quiet for a long time, and you think that’s maybe everything he’s relaying to you. But then, “lots of it.”

“How descriptive,” you say, resting your head on your knee, raising your other leg to rest comfortably against the dashboard. “You paint quite the word picture.”

Mando chuckles, once, and it sings inside you. That’s a sound you know you’ll never get tired of. “You’re lucky it’s me out here,” he pushes back, “and not the kid. All you’d be getting from him is babbling.”

“You make a good point.” You smile, front teeth grazing over your lip, still swollen from his kisses the night before. “Wait,” you say, suddenly, bringing your leg down from the dashboard. “You had another bounty to catch—on Dantooine, you had one more before you could return them to Karga—” You pause, heart hammering wildly in the realization that his rescue from your stupid adventure yesterday prevented him from getting the bounty he was on the planet for in the first place. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, voice shaky with the weight of it.

“I got him.” Mando says it softly but intentionally. “Don’t worry.”

“But—”

He says your name, and your breath catches in your throat with the sound of it. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” you say, still wallowing in guilt. “How are you lugging the carbonite to your meeting?”

“Drag them.”

You furrow your eyebrows, get up from the chair, descend the ladder. The three blocks of carbonite that had amassed after you pushed the Twi’lek into the gas have vanished. You look back and forth between the commlink and the tiny holding bay. “You dragged them? All the way to town?”

“They’re not heavy.”

You balk. If three people in carbonite weren’t heavy, he could probably throw you up in the air like the baby’s little silver ball, catch you with one hand. The thought ripples through you, and you shake your head clear of the thought. “Wait, but you—now you have four of them?”

Mando’s silent for a moment, and you think that maybe he’s gotten into town and is on higher alert, but then he breathes over the commlink. Something about his silence makes you a little uneasy—you know he’s hiding something from you, and you want to know what it is.

“I only have three,” he says, finally.

“But then you’re not done,” you repeat, stupidly, completely in the dark. “Why did we leave Dantooine if you didn’t have the other bounty?” You can feel that slick, heavy guilt flooding through you again, wanting to apologize for the circumstances you put him through for years and years.

“I didn’t need him.”

“Mando,” you whisper, still not understanding, “what do you mean?”

He’s quiet, again, and you have the feeling that you should know what he’s trying to say, but you still feel waterlogged and completely lost. You try to ask him again before he interrupts you, and you shut up the second his words filter through over yours.

“He’s dead.”

You sit down in the holding bay, still confused. “But—”

“I slit his throat,” he says, his voice unreadable through the modulator. “I’m not collecting anything for him.” Suddenly, too quickly, it all comes rushing into focus. The bounty was Merle. You stifle a small sob, trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Regardless if you left the Crest in that ridiculous, half-baked runaway attempt, Mando would have brought Merle back to the ship. Either way, you would have been face to face with your past, painfully, quickly.

But Mando could have gotten money for him, you realize, he could have dragged Merle alive back to the ship, to trade him into the Guild. But he didn’t. He killed him instead, to protect you. You gasp again, trying to find the words to thank him, for protecting you even when you didn’t deserve it. Even without having to ask him.

“I—thank you,” you manage. “Thank you, so much.”

“You don’t have to,” he whispers back, “thank me. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but in any circumstance, if I saw him there, holding a knife to you, having men hold you down…” he sighs, darkly, deeply, and you curl up even tighter against the cold wall of the Crest. “He’d be dead either way,” Mando finally says, and you don’t know if you fully believe him, but you nod against the commlink.

“I have to go,” he says, and the warning is abrupt, but you’re happy he managed to give one at all.

“Be safe,” you whisper, trying to load your voice with as much gravity and gratitude as you can in the economy of those two words, and he waits a second before he clicks off. Just one minute of bated silence, but it’s a salutation, an understanding. You curl yourself up into a ball, smell his shirt against your skin, and let him go.

You love the Razor Crest. It’s a hunk of junk, and it rebels against you like a teenager whenever you try to pilot it any faster and quicker than the way Mando handles it, but in the last six weeks, it’s become more of a home to you than anywhere else has ever been. You love to sit in the dark hull as you move through space, steadily and surely, with no intentions of going anywhere ever again after so much life of solitude. But right now, it feels like a prison.

You can’t exactly pinpoint when being on the ship felt like being closed off from anything, but you know ever since you were pulled right into the Mandalorian’s orbit, ever since he touched you for the first time, any time spent without him in the hull feels like you’re trapped. Even the baby struggles to give you solace today, especially knowing that Mando’s going back to Karga with one less bounty than there is pucks, and your heart wrenches itself into the not.

The baby coos, and you startle, dropping the small insignia on your silver necklace back against Mando’s giant shirt. You pull him into your lap, pressing your forehead to him.

“What’s up, baby?” you ask, and he pulls on your necklace. It glints in the low light like his little silver ball does, and you can feel him tug at it, gently, with his little stubby fingers, and something pulls in your chest. “No, bug, you can’t have this, I’m sorry.”

His little eyes well up, and that alone is almost enough to undo the clasp and slip it over his head, but you gently use your finger to hook the line of the necklace that you know Mando gave him not too long ago. You don’t know if he can understand what you’re doing as you strain the chain over your thumb so that both silver pendants clink together, softly, so you grab his little hand with your free one.

“Your daddy gave this to you, right?”

His big eyes fill up with happiness as he coos in agreement.

“Well, my necklace is from my parents, too. I wear it every day to keep them close to me, like you wear yours to keep him close to you.” You tip your forehead into his again, gently, and then pinch the Rebel insignia between your fingers. As you lay back, he looks up at you again, with those big, bright, sad eyes, and somehow, you know what he means. You shake your head, just a little, just to answer his unspoken question. “No, bug, they’re not coming back.”

You can’t take it when his eyes well up with the truth of it, so you scrunch up your face at him. “Don’t worry,” you whisper, pulling him into your arms, “I have them right here.” You tap a circle around your pendant, around your heart like a hex. “And I have myself another family now.”

He looks at you in confusion, and you tap his pendant, then touch your finger to his tiny nose.

“You,” you say, so quietly that only his giant ears could pick it up, “both of you.”

“Hey,” comes a modulated voice, and you startle, looking wildly around to where it’s coming from until you see the red blinking of the commlink on your wrist. “I’m coming back.”

“Good,” you breathe, cuddling the baby against your chest.

“I’ve got company,” he says, darkly, and you push yourself upward in one fluid motion, setting the baby back into his cradle even as he cries out for you, picking up your dried clothes and shoving them into your pack. You flail a hand at your leg, panicked, before you realize your belt and holster aren’t on you because you’re still wearing Mando’s pants, and you yank them down and trip into your own ones instead, which are a lot less comfortable, but they still smell like him, and you slide your blaster into the holster. Your own speed impresses you.

“Should I hide?” you whisper, leftover fear from yesterday and the other close encounters you’ve had on the ship running miles through your body. “Should I hide the kid?”

He takes forever to answer, so you pull the baby’s egg closed and push him into the alcove where his dad’s bed is, and you bend down behind the armory, blaster in hand. “Hey,” you say, urgently, “Mando, what do I need to expect—”

The hiss of the disengaged gangplank cuts you off, and you click the safety off the blaster, tucking all your loose hair behind your ears, ready to shoot if you need to. You leap out from the small hiding place you were crouched under, and the man next to the Mandalorian recoils and swears at the sight of you, steps back, and then looks incredulously between you and Mando.

“You know her?” He asks, clearly affronted, but it’s barreled over by your, “You know him?”

Mando’s visor moves back and forth between the two of you, and then gives a short, curt nod. The man next to you—hefty, well-dressed, with a booming voice—sighs, slaps an arm on Mando’s stoic shoulder, and extends a gloved hand to you.

“You’ve been keeping quite the company, Mando,” he says, and the volume of his voice compared to Mando’s brooding silence is almost deafening. “Pleased to meet you, darling. I’m Greef Karga—”

“She has a name,” Mando interrupts, and your eyes widen a fraction at his blatant insistence, as if he hasn’t called you “hey” and “sweet thing” in every interaction you’ve ever had with him, save for the two times he actually wrapped his mouth around your name at all.

You introduce yourself. “I’ve heard so much about you.” You aren’t sure what Mando’s reservedness is about, especially since he lets Karga pick up the baby, who has maneuvered himself out of the alcove and is now standing with grabby hands at one of Karga’s boots, ready to be held. You furrow your eyebrows at him, and he sighs, and the sound is all noise. All annoyance.

“I haven’t heard anything about you,” Karga replies, knocking his elbow into Mando’s beskar. He is literally just standing there, as frozen as his bounties were in the carbonite. You look at him again, trying to figure out why he’s so grumpy, but Karga reaches out and points at you. “Until today, when Mando returned three bounties to me and told me that he killed the other one!”

Your gratitude and embarrassment about the whole thing ripples through you at the same time, and you have to force yourself not to wince. “That was my fault.”

“I gave him Merle Calican’s bounty puck,” Karga continuous, and you clench your teeth at the mention of his name, “as a long shot. I didn’t think anyone would be able to bring him in. Turns out,” he laughs, “I was right! I heard it through the grapevine that Mando slit his throat in the middle of Dantooine.”

“He’s worth more dead than he is alive,” comes Mando’s voice through the modulator, but you can tell how dark and furious it is, and you wrap your arms around yourself in his big shirt, pretending just for a second that it’s his arms instead.

“No question,” Karga agrees, and at this, you startle. You’d known Merle to be a hotshot on Corellia, and you knew that he had a dark and dirty reputation to double cross anyone that wasn’t in his inner circle. And you knew that once he held a grudge, it was forever—or at least, until the person the grudge was against was dead. You knew he was persistent, wily, lethal. But you’d never heard his name again after your narrow escape from him and his men back on Coruscant, after you’d accidentally killed Jacterr, after you ran for your life. Hearing him mentioned from someone else who didn’t know him up close was alarming. “I gotta tell you, Mando, I am happier he’s dead than I would be if you brought him in alive. That was one twisted son of a gundark. That whole family is cursed.”

You look nervously at Mando, again, who still hasn’t moved a muscle. The whole family? As far as you knew, Jacterr was Merle’s only brother. You bite your nails. Slowly, Mando nods. You don’t know what to say next, and you’re not sure if you want to ask Karga how he knew Merle, so you just stand there, watching the baby reach from Karga to his dad, and Mando hoists him into his own arms.

“Well, I’ll better be going,” Karga says, finally, and even though he’s much more pleasant than you would have imagined, you’re happy he’s leaving. You move closer to Mando as he steps away, finger finding your necklace again. “It was nice meeting you. Hopefully next time, you’ll come explore the town.”

“Probably won’t be anytime soon,” Mando finally says, raising a halfhearted hand at Karga, “you gave me some tough catches.”

“You’ll get them,” Karga says, easily. “And when you do, you’re both welcome on Nevarro.”

You smile at him, giving him a little wave. Mando nods at him.

“I’ll tell Cara you both said hello,” he says, and then the gangplank is engaged, and Nevarro’s molten surface disappears. Cara? Both?

The second the airlock tightens again, Mando grabs your chin gently. You sag into him, happy to see him upright, unharmed.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and an apology from him still doesn’t sound real. You furrow your eyebrows at him, trying to understand what in the world he’s sorry for.

“You came back,” you say, confused, “within a few hours and without getting hurt. Why are you sorry?”

“That was unexpected,” Mando sighs, and lets the baby down from his arms so he can toddle across the floor to a bag of food that Karga brought. Mando tucks your loose hair behind your ear, the gesture already so familiar, so warm, and you sag against him. “He wouldn’t stop talking.”

You smile up at him. “He talks less than me.”

He sighs, but it’s just air. “I like your voice better.”

You blush, trying, impossibly, to catch a glimpse of his eyes behind the visor. “I thought you were friends with him.”

“He did try to kill me once,” Mando says, and at the baby’s angry reprimand, he shakes his head, “although, I tried to kill him too, so maybe we’re even.” He pauses. “And he’s too friendly. With you.”

You squint at him, ignoring the second admission, even as it does backflips in your chest. “What in the universe happened to you before I boarded your ship?”

He brings one gloved hand to your face again, and you sigh happily. “Nothing spectacular.”

You don’t want to say it. And you’re trying not to be jealous. But her name has been written across your head since Karga said it, said that he’d tell her you both said hello, especially since he didn’t know of your existence before today. “Cara?”

At the mention of her name, the baby coos in delight, and Mando looks from him and back to you.

You don’t know what to expect, but when he says it, it still throws you off guard. “I guess she’d be the one I call a friend.”

“Oh,” you say, in a tone you think is neutral, and then he’s cupping your face in his hands again, and it feels like everything else in the atmosphere has been filtered out.

“She’s the reason you met me,” he says, softly.

“Mmm,” you say, not needing him to elaborate, “then maybe I should have told Karga to thank her instead.”

He just looks down at you, unreadable through the visor. “She made me wait to leave the planet after the battle here. I wasn’t going to, but then I saw your ship crash.” He pauses. “You’ll like her.”

You beam at him. “For that alone, I do already.”

“She’s an ex-shocktrooper.”

You gape at him, both because he’s willingly offering you information and because that is an impressive title, and when you regain your words, all you can manage is, “Wow.”

He nods, moving his hands to your waist, and you sigh happily. “Come with me.”

You follow him, silently, up the ladder, looking at the baby for a second, trying to decide if you want him to come, too, but Mando hoists you up the last two steps, and you decide you love the baby, but you’d very much like him to stay hidden away for whatever happens next.

Mando leads you over to the pilot’s seat, slowly but forcefully, and you hum when he pushes down lightly on your shoulders to make your knees buckle and get you in the chair. You love the view from here, the way the stars streak past you, the way it looks like the entire galaxy is at your fingertips.

“Don’t turn around,” Mando says, and you oblige, happily looking out at the universe around you. “Hold your hand up.”

You do, in front of you at first, and then over your shoulder when you realize he’s not moving, and he places three bounty trackers in your hand.

Your eyebrows furrow, and then you remember he can’t see you, so you ask, “What am I—supposed to do with these?”

Slowly, agonizingly, Mando’s hand moves from your shoulders to the chair, and he spins you around. You look up at him, realizing again that you’re at the perfect angle to take every inch of him down your throat, and you gulp, trying to keep your eyes on him with some semblance of focus.

“You’re going to pick which one we go after next.”

You gape at him. “But there’s—there’s an order to it, you work your way out and back again, right? Or you go for the easiest catches first?”

He nods. “Not this time.”

You bite your lip in confusion, gaze flickering back and forth between him and the flashing pucks in your hand. “This one,” you say, suddenly, grabbing the one in the middle.

He looks down at you, and then grabs your throat, just with his fingertips, a ghost of a thing, and your whole body shudders, every nerve in you pulsing and alive. “Good girl,” he says, and you gasp again.

“Which one did I pick?”

Mando lowers himself down to where he’s level with you, and your heart is about to burst out of your chest with it. You want him, you want everything about him, the blood rushing in your ears is blocking every single other thought out—and then you realize he’s speaking.

“The furthest one,” he sighs through the modulator.

“And that’s good?”

“Oh, yes,” he says, tracing his gloved hand down your body from your collarbone to your bellybutton. “It means I get to make good on that promise I made to you last night.”

You’re heaving, already, it feels like all the air in the Crest has been sucked clean out. “What promise?” you squeak out, finding it nearly impossible to focus on anything else than where his fingers moving.

“I’m going to get to take my time with you,” Mando whispers, and when his hand sinks down in between your thighs again, everything else in the entire galaxy stops.

CHAPTER 7 WILL BE UP SAME TIME SAME PLACE, 7:30PM TOMORROW, SATURDAY THE 30TH EST!!

thank you all SO MUCH for all the love!! i promise there's SO much more coming <3 it's been such a joy sharing this with y'all. can't wait to hear what you think!!! i'll be hanging around my tumblr inbox all weekend if you wanna chat about Something More at all!

xoxo, amelie

#something more #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #reader insert

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lover-of-skellies · 3 years

Text

Marked

So uhh, this isn’t off the prompt list thing and literally no one asked for it, but I decided to go back and edit a super old thing I wrote. It’s supposed to be part of something a lot bigger, but for now, the whole thing’s been discontinued

Essentially, this is an OC insert kinda thing with my girl Adrienne. She’s been trapped in Horrortale for a little while, and since Sans decided to be merciful, she’s been allowed to live in a spare room in his and Pap’s house. She has free roam of the house and can do pretty much whatever the hell she wants (as long as it doesn’t involve getting into the pantry and digging into their reserves), and in exchange for all of that and being allowed to live, he and Papyrus have some super basic rules they expect her to follow

Rule number 1 is that she is to be helpful, and try to maintain the house while they’re away. Rule number two is that she’s not to leave the house without covering her face and hands. Rule number three is that she’s never to leave the house alone, without one or both of them nearby

Out of boredom and hunger, she leaves the house one day, following the smell of food. This doesn’t seem like it’d be anything huge, but it’s a major no-no, and it doesn’t go unpunished

Papyrus is also surprisingly good at giving advice, too. He might not have much experience with dating, but he knows exactly what he's talking about

If you make it to the end, I have to give you kudos because this is a complete cringe-fest ^^"

((Gonna add some potential trigger warnings for: angst, slight violence, and public humiliation))

Pain.

Searing pain.

The once blue-nette had been exploring the town, much to her guardians’ displeasure. She’d known it wasn’t a good idea, and for what reasons, she was well aware, but she had to do something. Staying holed away in the house every moment of every day was a completely new level of boring, one that she hadn’t even known existed. Her guardian had made it very clear that she was to never leave the house unless he or his brother were to accompany her, but today… well. His brother was away, probably at the capital getting physically and verbally abused by their queen, and he himself? She wasn’t sure what he did while he was away, but she’d learned not to ask too many questions. The first few times she tried asking, he’d been quick to change the subject or dodge her questions entirely, or he’d simply laugh and make a joke which he deemed hilarious when in reality, it wasn’t. Once he got tired of her asking, his humor quickly dissipated and was replaced by anger. He didn’t even have to look at her for her to know he was upset; all it took was a few short, clipped responses, and how she could practically hear him frown when he spoke. That’s beside the point though.

At the moment, she was suspended in mid air by her throat, her legs flailing as she began clawing at her assailant’s arm, her teeth bared as she struggled to free herself. The slightly withered fire monster shrugged off her attempts to attack him as if they were nothing at all; even though his strength had been diminished and was now only half of what it used to be, he was still far tougher than she could ever hope to be. Having smelled food, she made the mistake of slipping into the bar he owned, her hood tugged as far over her face as possible. She had glanced around the establishment, taken note of the other monsters nearby, and made another mental note of where all the exits were, should she need to run. After very cautiously crossing the bar and taking a seat at the old, worn counter, the flamesman had wordlessly poured a glass of water. He nudged it in her direction, and she’d eagerly accepted it, being mindful of how much of her face was concealed as she sipped the cold beverage.

For a moment, she was relaxed, and she nearly forgot the very real danger she was in. She was snapped out of her brief feeling of serenity as the Grillby fully shifted his attention to her. He made a soft, questioning sound, and she kept her head low, speaking just barely loud enough for him to hear, “What’re ya serving, Grillby?” He grunted, well prepared to offer her a short, yet simple answer, but was cut off by another monster who seated himself beside the girl, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts before, friend… where are you from?” The teen lowered her gaze to the countertop, catching a glimpse of what looked to be faded blue fur. She didn’t know what monster could possibly want to talk to her, but she remained as calm and casual as possible in hope of not drawing any more attention to herself, “The ruins.”

With their interest now fully piqued, the monster beside her hummed incredulously, “The ruins, huh?... I take it you’ve met our former queen then. Toriel.” Upon hearing the familiar goat monster’s name, the teen saw images flicker in her mind; memories of her time in the ruins before she managed to escape. How Toriel had guided her through all the traps and puzzles that laid in waiting. How she held her close and allowed her to sob into her shoulder. How she’d convinced Adrienne to go back to her house, where there’d be a warm bed, food, and all the love and care she could ever want. Toriel had baked a cinnamon and butterscotch pie, very excited to share it with her, but not long after the teen had eaten a small slice, she’d felt her stomach turn. Her world went black, and when she awoke, she was tucked into a bed in a dimly lit room, which looked as though it had once belonged to a child. She felt incredibly ill and had almost no strength, and she could barely stand without feeling light headed. To her surprise, however, her willing ally, Flowey, had made a surprise return. Adrienne had seen Toriel had burn him alive, so she didn’t understand how he was even still alive.

Flowey had been through this exact same situation too many times to count, as it turned out, and he’d revealed Toriel’s true intentions: make the teen weak enough to require constant care and attention, and make her stay in the ruins forever. Or at the very least, until she died. Taking advantage of a distraction provided by Flowey, she’d waited for the goat monster to disappear to another part of the house. She’d then made her way to the kitchen and began to search around the floorboards. According to Flowey, there was a panel that could be removed, and underneath it, she’d find the remedy she needed to regain her health. She’d found the vial and downed it without question, only to look up and see the crazed goat monster staring at her from the doorway. The look on her face was one that still occasionally haunted Adrienne's dreams, and she’d been trying to go as long as possible without thinking about it. It appeared as though she’d be getting no such luck today, though.

Clearing her throat and trying to force down her growing anxiety, she nodded, keeping her head down, “Yeah, I have. I’ve met her.” The blue furred stranger watched her with an unnerving amount of intensity and she fought the urge to squirm and lean away from them. As they spoke again, their voice held a curious edge, “Huh. I can only imagine how that went.” Nodding silently, the teen returned to her glass of water, more than ready for the stranger to go away. She knew what would happen if she was discovered, and she wanted no part of that whatsoever.

The monster leaned closer to her and sniffed the air, letting out a pleased sigh before mumbling, “Friend… you don’t exactly smell like one of us. Monsters have their own natural and unique scents... But you, however,” A fuzzy paw-like hand seized her arm with a vice-like grip, and the stranger's voice shifted from a mumble to what was more like a hiss, “you smell like you belong on the grill.” Adrienne began attempting to yank her arm back out of the monster’s grasp and they laughed, simply using their free hand to tug her hood down, revealing her identity to Grillby and the other bar patrons that surrounded them. Her faded grey eyes widened in fear as the monsters began to shout at the flamesman, excitedly demanding that he cook her for them. Despite how the teen shook her head in protest, the mass of living fire moved closer to her, rapidly snatching her up by the throat. She was lifted off of the ground, and he ignored her pained screams as the heat from his hand began to scorch the skin of her neck.

With adrenaline now coursing through her veins, she let out a string of expletives and pulled both of her legs up until her knees touched her chest. The flamesman took a single step toward his kitchen, and then froze as both of her deceptively weak legs shot toward him, delivering a sharp kick to the space just below his chest. She didn’t expect her little stunt to actually work, but to her pleasant surprise, he’d released his grip on her out of shock, gingerly touching the now injured part of himself. Adrienne dropped to the floor and quickly regained her balance, paying no attention to the few monsters who rushed to Grillby’s side. She proceeded to climb over the counter and sprint toward the door, the footsteps behind her a clear indicator that she was being pursued now. Not that she could blame them for any though; food was insanely hard to come by, so if you had a chance to eat but the food got up and ran, wouldn’t you go after it too?

Reaching out with a clawed hand, some unseen monster snagged a fistful of her hair and harshly pulled, causing her to yelp and almost tumble to the floor. She glanced around, surveying her surroundings and checking the exits again. Part of what looked to be a dog’s muzzle could be seen in her peripheral vision and she winced, struggling to free herself from the creature's grip. She only received an amused cackle from the monster in question, followed by him instructing some of the others to grab her and haul her back to the kitchen for Grillby. Looking around again and seeing them approaching her, she stuffed her hand into one of her pockets and fished around, searching through the various items inside for a moment before revealing a pocket knife. Unsure of what she might do, some of the monsters around her stepped back, but the one still pulling her hair only growled. Though she felt the hair on the back of her neck raise at the sound, she lifted an arm and made one single, fluid slicing motion with her hand, the blade of the pocket knife slicing through her hair. While she hated having to cut her hair and knew it’d take forever to grow back, she bared her teeth at the large dog monster, her lips curling into a smug grin as she noticed the look of surprise on his face.

Taking advantage of the moment, she darted to the nearest door, fully prepared to run out into the freezing streets and make a mad dash back to her protector’s house. Freedom and safety were so close and within her reach now, but as she whipped the door open and scrambled to get outside, she slammed face first into yet another monster. Letting out a frustrated and startled screech, she began trying to squeeze past them. They simply chuckled, wrapping an arm around her nearly size-zero waist and pulling her flush against themselves. Hearing the chuckle, realization dawned on her; this was her protector. She would be safe now.

She stole a glance up at his face and his scarlet iris flickered briefly down to her, his amused grin shifting into a taut line. Oh, she knew that expression all too well by now.

From that look alone, she knew someone would be hurt today.

Though his arm was almost uncomfortably tight around her, she said nothing, only turning her body slightly and burying her face in the front of his heavily blood stained shirt. The teen whimpered, wordlessly admitting just how scared she really was at the moment. He shifted his focus entirely to the other monsters that were now staring at both of them, and sensing their gaze, the teen whined faintly, her guardian lightly squeezing her in an effort to reassure her.

Thoroughly confused as to why she wasn’t dead yet, someone called out to her protector, “Perfect timing, Sans. Now how about you kill her so we can all eat already?” The skeleton’s normally rough voice held a bitter edge and he practically growled, “She ain’t free game, pal. I’m sorry ta say it, but I won’t be hackin’ this one ta bits for ya.” A crowd was beginning to form now and Adrienne tried to press as close to her friend as she could, wishing everyone would hurry up and leave. She already hated crowds on their own, and knowing that this particular crowd all wanted to see her get roasted alive didn’t exactly make her feel any better. Clearly taken aback, the same monster that’d addressed Sans spoke up again, “Oh really? And why’s that? You never helped the humans that fell before her, so what makes her so special?”

Curiosity piqued, she glanced up at the skeleton again, though he didn’t return the gaze. He just continued staring the other monster down, his iris nearly glowing now from the extent of his agitation, “Because she’s mine. Ya hear me? This little slab a’ meat belongs ta me.” A tiny burst of heat rushed to her face upon hearing his response; was he really claiming her right now? Claiming that she was his, and using his power over the others to coerce them into sparing her? Unbelievable.

Another monster decided to interject, countering Sans’ statement with, “Then how come you haven’t marked her yet?”

Oh boy. Of course someone would ask. Why wouldn’t they? She had no idea what she was expecting, but it clearly wasn’t that. With an annoyed huff, the skeleton spun her around, making sure everyone could see her face as he fired back with another sharp retort, “Heh, funny you should ask. I was on my way home with the intention of doin’ just that, but I guess we won’t have the privacy now. Oh well. All you fuckwits better be watchin’, because I’m only gonna do this once.”

Wait, he was going to mark her? Here? In front of everyone?

Face burning with embarrassment, she dropped her gaze to the floor, letting out a soft squeak as he grabbed the collar of her shirt and jacket and pulled them aside to reveal her shoulder. Not bothering to give any indication of what he was about to do, a faintly glowing blue tongue snaked out of his maw and traced over a very specific patch of her skin. The feeling of his tongue - which consisted solely of highly concentrated magic - on her skin was like nothing she’d experienced before. There was some warmth to it that was followed by a tingle, which was likely caused by the magic itself, and another involuntary whimper slipped past her lips. Her face grew hotter at hearing herself make that sound again, which to her horror, Sans had also heard. It earned a soft chuckle from him and his mandible shifted into a pleased grin.

And then he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

It happened so fast that she didn’t even have time to register what happened, but at the lack of the expected pain, she unconsciously fidgeted. Wasn’t this supposed to hurt?... What was preventing her from being in pain right now? She felt his tongue trace over her skin again, accompanied by more tingling and… numbness? Had he intentionally numbed her shoulder before biting her?

Seeing that he had been true to his word and had in fact marked her, the other monsters quickly grew bored, the vast majority of them also visibly disappointed as they returned to their prior activities. A sense of relief washed over her and she sighed, stealing a quick glance at her friend as he slowly released her. His tongue lingered behind momentarily and lapped up the blood that seeped from the injury, and his voice took a husky tone as he purred, “Ya taste good, kiddo. I think I could get used ta this.” Her already flushed face became a much brighter shade of red than before and she scoffed, refusing to look at him, “Don’t count on it, mister.” “Awe, c’mon Addy. Help me out here… it’s not my fault that ya taste as good as ya look.” Growling softly, Adrienne scrunched her face up into a look of annoyance in hopes of masking her embarrassment as she rolled her eyes, “Pervert.” “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.” “Uh huh, right. I definitely believe that.” He lightly jabbed her side with the tip of a phalange and she squirmed, yelping in surprise. She tried to twist her small frame away from him and he laughed softly, “Whatever. How about we ditch this place and head home now? This bar is no place for a little lady like ya.” Looking back at him over her shoulder, she flicked her tongue at him.

They’d left the bar and began to walk home in uncomfortable silence. The moment they made it back to his house and he’d set her down, she found herself being roughly shoved against the closed front door with one of his large hands catching her wrists and pinning them above her head. Her eyes widened in shock and she squirmed, “H-Hey, what the hell are you-” Meeting her gaze, the look he wore was enough to silence her, his completely dilated red iris both captivating and terrifying her all at once.

Then he spoke, his gruff voice low, “You disobeyed me, Adrienne.”

Forcing her voice out and reaching nothing louder than a whisper, she frowned, “I… I know I did. I’m really sorry, Sans. I won’t do it again, I swear.” “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I didn’t get ta you in time?” “Yes, I do! Really!” “If you knew the risks, then why’d you do it?” Feeling much smaller than before as he continued staring her down, Adrienne sheepishly looked away from him, “There’s just.... Not a lot to do here when you and Paps are gone, and I was bored. I did a bunch of cleaning and reorganizing, and I even tried to fix the TV. I dug through the hallway closet and looked through the games, but do you have any idea how hard it is to actually play a game by yourself and have fun at the same time?”

With his free hand, the skeleton cupped his face, letting a deep sigh, “You risked your life… you risked dying, because you were bored? Am I hearin’ that right?” Feeling guilty, she slowly nodded, choosing to keep her mouth shut this time. Catching her completely by surprise, what sounded like a giggle could be heard, and though it took a moment to fully register, she had a realization that made her blood run cold; the giggle came from Sans.

Nervously lifting her gaze again to look up at him, the only thing that began to pulse within her was regret. Regret that she’d disobeyed him, regret that she went against his wishes, regret that she’d upset him so badly, regret that she even opened her mouth at all to speak to him, and most of all, regret that she’d decided to look at him.

He leaned back the smallest bit, one hand still firmly pinning her wrists above her head. Her eyes widened in complete terror as his giggling began to escalate, growing louder and louder until he was roaring with laughter as blue tinted tears pricked at the rims of his sockets. Not bothering to wipe away the tears, he placed his free hand on his face. His open palm rested on his cheek as he curled his fingers, the first two settling inside his empty socket; judging by the slight movement his arm made, he’d begun lightly tugging on the rim of it. That was never a good sign. Yes, she loved it when he relaxed enough to laugh with her from time to time, but this display right now? This was the stuff of nightmares.

Then almost as quickly as it’d started, his laughter came to an abrupt halt and his wide grin vanished, leaving only a resentful scowl behind in its place. As his focus shifted back to the teen, her heart began to race. She honestly had no idea what he planned to do now. He then began to slowly tighten his grip on her wrists, a soft growl rumbling from within his chest. Paying no attention to the grimace of pain she wore as his phalanges began digging into her skin, he leaned down, the space between them reduced to almost nothing as he hissed, “You’re an idiot. Get out of my goddamn sight, human.” Adrienne opened her mouth to force an apology out but was quickly cut off, crying out in surprise and pain as the skeleton dug his phalanges even further into her wrists and began to break skin. Rolling his single eye light, he scoffed, stepping back and suddenly yanking her to the side, releasing his grip on her wrists in time to make her small body become airborne. With the sound of something cracking and collapsing beneath her, she knew she’d landed at least partially on the coffee table.

Despite the pain that shot through her with even the smallest movement, the cold stare she was receiving from the skeleton was enough to make get back up, her head hung low as her eyes began to water up. Not wanting to show him this weaker, more vulnerable side of herself, she darted up the stairs, her feet padding across the slightly creaky wooden floor for only a brief moment. She then took refuge in the upstairs bathroom, slamming the door shut behind herself and flipping the latch, locking out the world. Trying to force down the very minute amount of guilt that began to bubble up within him, Sans let out an annoyed huff and glanced at the now completely busted coffee table. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining that to Papyrus later.

~~~

What seemed like a century had passed before the youngest of the two skeletons finally returned home, the sight of the smashed coffee table still lying on the floor enough to induce a sense of dread within him. Normally when he came home, his elder brother would greet him, or at the very least, be lazing about on the couch and offer him a half hearted wave that was usually followed by some sort of pun or terrible joke.

But no. Nothing. Sans was nowhere in sight, and neither was Adrienne. This only made Papyrus’ concern grow; he hoped beyond all hope that his brother hadn’t done anything to her.

The tall skeleton let out a soft sigh and crossed the living room. The exhaustion from the long day began to set in as he ascended the stairs, eager to take a shower and change into something more comfortable. He loved his battle body immensely, but sometimes his sore, tired bones made the item feel as though it weighed a thousand pounds. He wished he could simply change his clothes and climb into bed so he could go to sleep, but life wasn’t that simple for him; before he was allowed to relax, he needed to shower and make dinner for his brother and Adrienne, then the teen was to help him clean up the dishes once the three of them had finished eating. After all that, he was to take Adrienne to the backyard to test prototypes for new puzzles and traps. She was kind enough to help him make sure they worked correctly, so he was always vigilant, always watching to make sure she was never injured on any of them. Aside from being a puzzle and trap tester, his rather small human friend also delighted in helping him think of new puzzles, and she even designed some of her own. She seemed to enjoy partaking in games of pretend when they messed around with the action figures he’d collected over the years, and when Sans wasn’t around or flat out refused to do it, she didn’t mind reading to him before he fell asleep each night, either. They’d grown very close, and he cared for her almost as much as he cared for Sans. It was for all those reasons why he promised to protect her; he had to protect her. He’d become used to her presence and had grown to appreciate their friendship very much, and having her as his friend helped fill the void in his soul that was once occupied by the queen herself. He still considered Undyne a close friend, but the way she spoke and treated him now was… Execrable.

As he twisted the knob and nudged his bedroom door open, the scent of blood hit his nasal cavity and he felt his body tense. Gently pushing the door shut behind his massive frame once he’d crossed the threshold, he made his way to his desk and flicked on the small lamp that resided on its far left corner, the light illuminating his multitude of action figures and an old map.

The faint sound of movement caught Papyrus’ attention and he looked down toward the source, almost unable to believe what he was seeing; the human was in his bed, lying on her side and wrapped in his old blankets. An open first aid kit sat on the floor next to the bed, and cloth bandages were wrapped loosely around her slender neck. Her hair, which was once nearly long enough to reach her lower back, was now much shorter; it looked as though it was cut hastily by some sort of blade. While her arms were mostly concealed by the blankets, he could see that her wrists had also been wrapped in bandages, a familiar crimson threatening to seep through the material. As she shifted again in her slumber, her shirt began to slip down her shoulder and revealed another large bandage, more crimson staining the fabric. His brow bones furrowed as he took note of how the crimson staining it formed a half circle… as if the injury was because of a bite.

In his consternation, Papyrus reached out, a single gloved hand settling on her uninjured shoulder. He leaned down, his spine already aching from the awkward angle as he lowered his voice and did his best not to startle her, “Human?... Adrienne? Please, I Need You To Wake Up. Come On Human, Please.” As she slowly began to stir, he fought the urge to scoop her up into his arms and shelter her from whatever had left her in her current condition.

As her eyes fluttered open and she took notice of the skeleton towering over her, all traces of exhaustion vanished and her eyes widened, a sound of surprise slipping past her lips. In her momentary panic, she’d sat up and tried to move away from him, her chest heaving as she drew in one deep breath after another. Papyrus gently shushed her, offering her a weak, apologetic smile, “Hey, Hey, It’s Alright. It’s Just Me, Adrienne. I Didn’t Mean To Startle You, I Swear. I’m So Sorry For Scaring You.”

Registering who was with her, the teen released a deep sigh of relief. She gave Papyrus no time to prepare himself before she practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around whatever she could reach before clinging to his battle body. Though he was visibly caught off guard, he delicately encircled her with his arms, one hand finding her uninjured shoulder again before he lightly squeezed, his voice laced with concern, “Adrienne?... What’s Wrong? What Happened To You?”

The only response he received from the girl in his arms was a muffled sob and he frowned, moving his hand from her shoulder to her face. He used his index finger to tilt her head back, allowing him to see her tear stained face, and as her bottom lip twitched and another tear rolled down her cheek, he frowned; normally she was such a strong, upbeat person. To see her this way was heartbreaking.

The skeleton lowered his voice even further, reducing it to a whisper, “Adrienne, Please… Tell Me What Happened. I Want To Help You.” Her lip twitched again and she sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away with her sleeve, “I just… Papy… I just wanted to go outside... I just wanted some fresh air… I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Still frowning, Papyrus gently ran his fingers through her hair and tilted his head, his voice remaining low, “What Do You Mean?... Did Sans Do This To You?” Upon hearing the name of the older skeleton brother, Adrienne tightened her grip on Papyrus, her voice beginning to waver as more tears rolled down her face, gathering at her jaw and dripping down onto her shirt, “Papy… I was so stupid. I made him mad at me. I upset Sans.”

Papyrus’ frown deepened; he knew how his brother could be whenever he had one of his episodes, and never in a million years would he wish for anyone to become the recipient of Sans' delirium. The skeleton sighed as he gently stroked the teen’s hair, “It’ll Be Ok, I Promise. You May Stay Here Tonight If You’d Like, And I’ll Be Sure To Speak With Him About This. Do You Think You Could Tell Me Everything, Though? I Can’t Be Of Any Help To You If I Don’t Know All The Details.” With a heavy heart, she slowly nodded and looked up, meeting his gaze, “I… I went outside today... by myself. I went into town, and I went to Grillby’s. It smelled like food in there, and I was so hungry… I thought I’d find something to eat. I kept myself as covered as possible, but I was caught and got grabbed by Grillby,” she paused, visibly ashamed as she gestured to her neck, “…I got burned.”

The skeleton made a soft sound in understanding and nodded, silently asking her to continue, which she did, “Someone else grabbed my hair and I had to cut it to get away from them. Then when I opened the door and went to run outside, I ran face first into Sans. He told everyone there not to mess with me, that I wasn’t free game because I belonged to him. Then he marked me. Right there, with everyone watching. He was a little flirty afterward and he seemed happy enough, so I thought everything was ok, but when we got here, he… he had an episode.”

Papyrus didn’t know what to make of everything he’d just been told; on one hand, she suffered numerous injuries and nearly died, and on the other hand, she was marked by Sans.

Normally whenever a monster marked someone, it meant that they saw that person as their mate and that they wanted to claim them as their own. That they loved that person with every fiber of their body and soul. Being marked also served as a way to protect someone from other monsters, but there had been cases of a mark not being enough to guarantee the safety of a monster's mate.

Being marked was not only a big deal, but it was also something that every self respecting monster knew should be done in private. The fact that Sans marked her in the first place was absolutely astounding, but the fact that he had the absolute nerve to take something that was meant to be special, shared between mates and no one else, and turned it into some obscene gesture that he performed in front of a crowd, undoubtedly humiliating Adrienne in the process… It was unacceptable.

He needed to speak to Sans, and he needed to do it now.

Releasing a deep sigh, Papyrus lifted a hand to idly rub the back of his neck, “I See… I Cannot Apologize Enough On My Brother’s Behalf. I’ll See If I Can Get Anything Out Of Him That Would Explain Why He’d Behave This Way. Hopefully… Hopefully He Doesn’t Clam Up, Like He Seems To Always End Up Doing. Will You Be Alright Here While I’m Away? I Don’t Want To Leave You Alone If You’re Still Feeling A Little Too Overwhelmed And Freaked Out By Everything.” The teen sniffled, absentmindedly wiping her face with her sleeve again as she nodded, “Uh huh… I think so.” Catching the slight uncertainty in her voice, he offered her a reassuring smile, “I’ll Try To Be Back As Soon As Possible, Alright? How About You Pick Out Some Puzzles For Us To Work On When I Return? A Few Good Puzzles Always Help Me Feel Better Whenever I’m A Bit Rattled, So I’m Confident They’ll Do The Same For You, Too!” Adrienne couldn’t help the small smile that curled her lips upward at how eager he was to help her, and she nodded again, “Ok, Pap… that sounds good to me. When you get back, do you think maybe you could help me fix my bandages a little? Some of them are still too loose and I dunno if I missed any little spots anywhere.” Perking up at the request, Papyrus beamed, gently unwrapping his arms from around her and ruffling her hair, “Yes, Of Course! The Great Papyrus Would Be Happy To Assist You, Adrienne!” Letting go of the skeleton, Adrienne smiled up at him; he was such a sweet guy, and despite their circumstances, he was always so optimistic. He still maintained a sense of morality as well, unlike the other monsters. She honestly wasn’t sure what she’d do without him at times.

Reluctantly parting from his small human friend, Papyrus slipped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind himself. Once he was gone, Adrienne sighed, climbing out of his bed and making her way over to a shelf. As she looked over the various boxes and puzzle books, she came to the conclusion that it probably didn’t matter which one she chose; as long as it’d keep her and that goofball busy for a while, it was good enough for her. As she reached out to grab a thick puzzle book, she winced. Her free hand moved to gingerly touch the bandage on her shoulder; at the twinge of pain, her mind drifted to Sans. After earlier, she should’ve learned her lesson and given up on disobeying the very specific rules that her friends had established. She was a curious being by nature though, and she’d be damned if she had to go on without receiving any answers.

Her curiosity and desire to know why Sans would mark her grew even stronger. She grabbed the puzzle book and dropped it on Papyrus’ bed, before peeking out of the room and glancing around the hall. Against her better judgement, she began to search for the pair of brothers. The most logical place Sans would be at this time of night would be in his room, or downstairs on the living room sofa. If those two places weren’t it, then she’d have to check the basement. No biggie. As she tiptoed down the empty hallway, she briefly paused to look over the railing and down into the living room, and found that Sans was nowhere in sight. On her way toward the stairs, she caught the sound of a mumbled conversation through Sans’ closed bedroom door and froze; she knew better than to go into his room without knocking, so she opted to stay in the hall and eavesdrop, rather than barge in on whatever he and Papyrus were talking about at the moment.

Inside the closed off room, Sans rolled his eye light, trying his best to brush off the lecture he was receiving from his younger brother. It’s not like he did anything to Papyrus personally, so he didn’t understand why Pap thought he needed to get involved. Not in the slightest. Completely exasperated with Sans’ stubbornness, Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh, “Sans, Honestly. You Didn’t Have To Take It That Far. The Poor Girl’s Probably Traumatized And Too Ashamed To Ever Want To Leave The House Again.” Sans grunted, flopping down onto his back on his old, worn mattress, “Remind me how that’s a bad thing again, Pap. So far, I’m not seein’ any problems with it.” The taller of the two inhaled deeply, briefly closing his sockets as he tried to gather his thoughts, “Sans… Brother. I Love You, But What You Did Today Wasn’t Ok. I Don’t Understand Why You’re So Calm And Casual About It.” Gaining a very clearly agitated edge, Sans practically growled, “It’s really fuckin’ simple. If she’s too ashamed ta leave the house, then good! At least she’ll stay put then and save me a lot a’ trouble in the future.”

Not even remotely threatened by his older brother’s tone of voice, Papyrus snapped, suddenly shouting, “LANGUAGE, SANS. MAYBE SHE DIDN’T LISTEN TO YOU, BUT THAT’S NO REASON TO TREAT HER THIS WAY. IT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT A VALID REASON TO GO AND PUBLICLY HUMILIATE HER, THEN COME HOME AND SCARE HER HALF TO DEATH, EITHER. YOU ALSO BROKE THE COFFEE TABLE, SANS. SOME OF US HAVE TO PAY FOR THINGS LIKE THAT, YOU KNOW!”

From her spot in the hallway, Adrienne flinched, her eyes widening. Not once had she ever seen Papyrus so upset that he shouted like this. This was a whole new experience, and she could already say that it was both surprising and terrifying all at once.

The shorter of the two let out an exaggerated groan, beginning to absentmindedly tap the tips of his phalanges on the bed as he stared up at the ceiling, “As far as the table goes, I’ll replace the damn thing if it really means that much ta you. What am I supposed ta do about the kid though? If I really scared her as much as you’re sayin’ I did, then she won’t want anythin’ ta do with me. It’s not like I can just walk up to her and go, ‘hey, you know that day when I got mad at you? I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.’” Papyrus hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Well… A Sincere Apology Is Only Half Of What I Think You Owe Her.” “Yeah? And what’s the other half?” “To Be Completely Blunt About It, She Knows What It Means To Be Marked.”

The older skeleton brother nearly choked on air, his cheekbones dusting a soft shade of blue, “What the hell?… Ok, then… What about it? Everyone probably knows what it means.” “What I’m Saying Is That She Knows Monsters Wouldn’t Mark Anyone Unless That Person Was Tremendously Important To Them, And Unless They Saw Them As Their Mate. Not Only Is There That, But She Told Me That You Were Somewhat Flirtatious Toward Her After The Incident Today At Grillby’s. You’re Sending Some Incredibly Mixed Signals, Sans. She More Than Likely Was Under The Impression That You Have Some Very Strong Feelings For Her, But Then You Came Home And Basically Told Her To Get Lost Before Throwing Her At The Coffee Table. She Has No Idea Where She Stands Right Now. The Other Half Of What You Need To Do Is Be Honest With Her. Tell Her If You Feel Something For Her, Or Tell Her If You Don’t. Just Make It Clear To Her So She Knows What She Is To You.”

Bolting upright into a sitting position, Sans stared up at his younger brother in disbelief, “So you’re suggestin’ that I go confess my love ta her or somethin’? Is that what you’re tryna tell me right now, Papyrus?” “If You Love Her, Then Yes, That Is Exactly What I’m Trying To Tell You.” Pressing his index and middle finger to one of his temples, the older of the two narrowed his sockets, grumbling under his breath, “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me… this is so stupid…” Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Sans, Papyrus arched a brow bone and tilted his head, “Language, Brother… All Of This Might Seem Stupid To You, Maybe, But It’s A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Addressed. If You Really See Her As Your Mate, She Needs To Know. And Hey, It’s Alright To Feel Embarrassed About This Sort Of Thing. It’s Completely Natural. For Starters, Maybe You Could Try To Help Me Better Understand Your Reasons For Marking Her? I’m All Ears! In A... Manner Of Speaking.”

Sans snuck an uncertain glance up at him and let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to cover both eyes with his hands, “...Don’t make me talk about this right now, Pap. Please. I can’t do it. I just can’t, what if I-” Papyrus was quick to wrap his arms around his older brother, lightly squeezing his shoulder, “Sans, No. Stop. You’re Overthinking Again. Take A Deep Breath And Try To Relax. It’s Just Me Here, And If You Preferred That I Don’t Tell Her What You Say, Then I Won’t. You Have My Word. Just Trust Me… That’s All I’m Asking Of You Right Now. Please, Just Trust Me.”

#writing #tw angst #tw mild violence #tw humiliation #oc insert #undertale #undertale au #horrortale #horrortale au #horrortale sans #horrortale papyrus #horror sans #axe sans #crooks papyrus

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allegra-writes · 5 years

Text

Fireproof

Peter Parker x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut; Sex pollen.

The request:

This is for @idiosadeoro who wanted Virgin!Peter, hypersensitive cause of his spider sense, and the bunch of anons who wanted Sex pollen/Fuck or die. Hope this caters to your tastes. Preparing for Halloween, this is the most fucked up thing I wrote so far 😘

Also, Infinity war? Endgame?? NOT IN THIS HOUSE.

MY MASTERLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

You were so fired.

So fucking fired.

That was the only thought going through your mind, on repeat as you made your way to the med bay. You tried to focus on that, because if you were to think even for one second about what you were about to do, you'd never be able to go through with it.

With shaky fingers and your heart pounding inside your chest hard enough to break your ribs, you punched the code in the security panel and watched the light go green. This was it, your moment of truth. You squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

Peter knew it was you even before you spoke, there was a shift in the atmosphere, the stale air inside the bay was suddenly electrified, every one of his senses coming alive. He wished he could blame the god damned pollen, but he had long before memorized the cadence of your footsteps, the smell of your perfume. He could recognize your heartbeat in a room full of people. The truth was he had had the most desperate, hopeless crush on you from the very moment Tony had showed up in the lab with you in tow, and announced the two of you would be working together.

On a normal day, he had enough trouble controlling himself around you enough not to blurt out his feelings, but now, with the freaky alien sex pollen stuff in his system?..

“Peter?”

He feigned sleep where he was on the gurney, refusing to open his eyes. If he so much as saw your pretty face, his control would snap, he just knew it. You stepped closer.

“Y/n, it’s not a good idea for you to be here right now” he tried to warn you, but you kept on coming closer, he could feel the heat coming out of your body even feet away, every pore of his skin opening to soak up your warmth. You were saying something, and he should probably listen but you were way too close now, a whiff of your scent, flowery and sweet and female reaching his nose.

Before you could blink, he had you pinned against the wall, every inch of his firm, lithe but muscular body pressed against yours, hard planes against soft curves.

“I mean it, y/n, it’s extremely dangerous for you to be in the same room as me until Mr. Stark comes up with an antidote” His nose was practically touching yours, his breath hot against your face.

And you could actually see it, the danger he was talking about. It was there, in his eyes, the raw hunger, the barely contained desire. It made shivers run down your spine, cause you knew if he was to loose control, you would be powerless against his super strength.

For the first time ever, you were afraid of Spider-man.

But this was what you had come here for in the first place, wasn’t it? There was no antidote, at least none that would work with his enhanced metabolism. The same metabolism that was processing the alien substance twice as fast. Time was running out, and Steve and Tony were still up in the lab, debating the moral implications of getting Peter an escort.

So you swallowed your fear, and crushed your lips to his.

He returned the kiss right away, tongue parting your lips, forcing his way into your mouth. The sound that left his throat at the first taste of you was not unlike that of a wounded animal. You swallowed it, head spinning, grateful for being trapped between the wall and his body, your knees suddenly to weak to support your own weight.

Your fingers buried themselves in the curls at the back of his head by their own accord, tearing another moan out of him. He released your lips only to latch his to your neck, kissing, sucking, nibbling with no finesse or technique whatsoever.

“I can’t stop” He was murmuring between kisses, burying his apologies into your skin, “I can’t stop, I’m sorry”

It was the truth. He had tried to downplay the effects so as not to worry Tony even more, but ever since he had gotten covered in that weird pink dust, it had been hard to breath, his lungs, loins, skin, everything felt on fire.

The first taste of your lips, of your tongue, of your spit, had felt like a mouthful of fresh water, cooling down his insides. The first relief he had had in hours.

But it still wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed you.

He parted your knees with one of his own, thigh rocking against your center.

It made you moan. The very first sound he had coaxed out of you, and it made his blood boil inside his veins. A new scent filled his nose, almost cloyingly sweet. He reclaimed your lips with a growl when he realized he was smelling your arousal.

One of his hands made its way to the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he ravaged your mouth, the other one popped open the button of your jeans and slid inside to where the heath between your legs was beckoning him. His hands were hot, leaving scorching trails in their wake. One finger found your entrance, diving in, pumping steadily in an out until you were shamelessly moving your hips, riding his hand, chasing your release.

It was embarrassing, you had never come so fast in your life but there was no mistaking the feeling coiling up inside you, tighter and tighter until it had no choice but to explode, making you cry out into Peter’s mouth.

He could have stayed like that until his death, fingers still lazily thrusting inside you, devouring those delicious little sounds from your mouth... But he noticed your hands, a second ago tugging so good at his hair, now on his chest, trying to push him away. It teared him in half, every cell in his body screaming in pain, but he complied, taking a step back. You stumbled a little on your feet.

“Please” He breathed out, voice breaking. He needed you, he would literally die… He could have sob in relief when you got rid of your lab coat and he understood you only wanted to get undressed, but he still had enough presence of mind to stop you.

“No” You met his eyes, confusion clear in your face, “Not here” Not where there were cameras, not where he didn’t even had a proper bed to lie you down. If he was finally going to make you his, he was going to do it right, pollen or not.

A voice in the back of his head reminded him that you weren’t his, you were only doing this to save his life, but he pushed it aside, as he picked you up as if you were weightless -for him, you probably were- and took you to the little on-call room right outside the bay at breakneck speed.

He placed you softly on the bed and got rid of his clothes so quickly it had to be a record, before moving to help you out of yours. He covered your body with his perfect one, your skin was so soft, so pliant under his hands, so cool against his own feverish skin, soothing him like a balm, he wanted nothing but to bury himself into you. But he admitted, voice small and shy and so Peter it almost broke your heart.

“I- I have no idea what I’m doing…”

He felt you froze underneath him and leaned back to look at your stunned face.

“You’ve never..?”

He shook his head no.

“But, you and MJ, wasn’t she your girlfriend until like, college?

“She’s ace. I respected that.” He replied simply.

“But, back in the bay, if you've never done… anything, what was that?”

He half shrugged,

“A shot in the dark?”

He was freaking natural, then. And you? You were going to hell.

You just knew it, cause never before you had had an Innocence kink, but Peter “Perfect bubble butt” Parker was a virgin, and you were all for it, licking your lips and planning a thousand different ways to corrupt him before the night was over.

You pushed at his shoulders and he let you manhandle him until he was the one on his back on the mattress, and you were straddling his thick, gorgeous thighs.

He watched you, mesmerized, as you raked your fingernails down his torso, leaving red trails, catching on his nipples, making him hiss. His muscles rippled under your hands as you moved them over his abs, lower and lower, until you wrapped your fingers around his hard, long, angry cock. His groan went straight to your cunt, and somewhere in the back of your mind you realized this was so wrong, you weren’t like this, you shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, something really weird was going on. But this had stopped being about saving Peter’s life a long time ago.

You pumped your hand once, twice, three times, watching his head trash from side to side. You spat on your other hand and covered the head of his cock with it, caressing it with soft, circular movements that had him sobbing and cursing. It made you feel powerful, hot.

“If my hands feel this good, just imagine how it will feel when you finally get inside me…” You leaned over him to whisper dirtily in his ear, before sucking the lobe into your mouth

“Fuck!.. Yes, please, y/n… please!”

“You want it, don’t you? Want to feel me from the inside… penetrate me, break me in half with your cock…” Where was all this coming from? This was wrong, he wasn’t in his right mind, you weren’t supposed to like it.

“Yes! Please! Yes, I want it, all of it!”

You guided him to your entrance, lowering your self slowly, slowly. He was huge, and you were dripping, yes, but you needed to be careful anyway, you had never taken someone so big.

His hand went to your waist, crying out as his cock disappeared inside you, eyes fixed on the place you and him were joined. You grabbed a hold of one of his wrists, guiding his hand to one of your breasts as you started moving up and down, riding him.

“Oh God!..”

“Tell me,” you demanded, already breathing hard, he was filling you up so good, touching all the right places deep inside you, “Tell me how does it feel to be inside me”

“Hot… so wet… so tight… you feel like...” He stopped, looking up at you through half lidded eyes.

“Like what?” You urged him on, “Tell me, Peter”

“You feel like you’re mine”

Your walls contracted around him at his words, a wave of pleasure washing over you. His other hand returned to your waist and he started moving you faster up and down his cock.

“Yes, like that, show me how you like it” You were delirious, your own hand tugging at your hair, “make me yours, Peter!”

He started to buck his hips up, trying to get even deeper, his pelvis rubbing against your clit just right every time he bottomed out and your second orgasm of the night started to build.

“Gonna come inside this pretty pussy” He let out under his breath, and you didn’t know if he was talking to you or to himself, “Then, I’m going to turned you around on your hands and knees, enter your pussy from behind, not even gonna stop. Gonna make you come on my cock over and over and over…” he punctuated every word with a hard thrust, until your walls were squeezing him again, and you were screaming your release. A couple thrusts later, and you felt him coming as well, coating your insides with his hot seed.

True to his word, he flipped you over, burying his cock in your oversensitized cunt again, fucking you through the aftershocks, prolonging your pleasure until you were a moaning, trembling mess. And he wasn’t even slowing down.

“I wanted you… since the first moment I saw you” he confessed, leaning over your back to kiss your shoulder, the gesture surprisingly sweet for the way he was taking you, so raw and animalistic. “You were wearing that pink skirt… and I wanted… wanted to bend you over the lab table and have my way with you…”

Dizzily, you reached behind you to grab a handful of his hair, and turned your head to kiss him, open mouthed and sloppy. He loved it.

“This is close enough” He sighed when you broke the kiss, resting his forehead on your shoulder, hips slapping against your ass loudly.

You interrupted the steady stream of “Uh… uh…uh” leaving your throat to try and say,

“I don’t know… we could… still do it in the lab… later…”

“Fuck, you’re perfect!” He moaned against your back, before grabbing hold of your hips again, pounding into you faster than any normal boy could ever do.

…

You passed out somewhere between round five and six, not before giving him express permission to use your body as much as he needed to burn the fucking -ha- pollen out of his system.

He was running his fingers softly up and down your naked back, a barely there caress, watching you sleep, sated, relaxed and completely spent, when he heard the buzzing coming from your jeans, long forgotten on the floor near the bed. He took it out and saw Tony’s name lighting up the scream.

He slid to pick up.

“Fucking finally! Y/n, where the hell are you?!”

“Mister Stark, it’s me” He whispered his reply, as not to wake you up.

“Peter! Thank God! How are you, please tell me you didn’t-“

“Sorry, Mister Stark,” Peter interrupted him, “We kinda did…”

“Shit! Please, Peter, please tell me you kids used protection!”

“Uh…”

Tony left out another loud curse at the other side of the line.

“Where are you? Y/n did something to Friday and now it won’t tell me where you are in the tower. You still in the tower right? I need the both of you to come to the lab right now” Tony was talking a mile a minute and Peter knew something very bad, not of the good was going on.

“Why?”

“Because,” Tony’s voice was frantic as he tried to explain the gravity of the situation, “That pollen thing? That’s not an aphrodisiac like we thought, it’s a fertility treatment. It doesn’t only messes your hormones up, it messes with hers too with every fluid exchange!”

Peter turned to look at you, peacefully asleep, curling up to his side, blissfully unaware of anything and everything going on outside that bed.

And maybe it was the alien substance still fucking up his brain, but the mental image of you, round with his child, sleeping like that next to him every night? It wasn’t half as terrifying as Tony seemed to think it was.

After all, the girl of his dreams was finally his, and a baby would guarantee she would remain his, forever.

“You know what, Mister Stark? I have to go now. Talk to you tomorrow…”

“What? No, kid, don’t hang up on me! Peter Parker I swear-…”

Tony Stark heard the line go dead.

To be continued...

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#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut

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