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mewo-cressei · 7 months

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Welp, I dug my own grave, I suppose.

@julieisasimp @the-arcade-doctor @a-moths-privacy

uhhh idk who else to tag

Note's:

Y/N is a freak. Think what you will.

and stutters, but not in a "i-i-i-im so sorry! I-i-i-i-it won't happen again!" type of way but more of a "i-im sorry! It w-wont happen again!" Type of way.

JOTA is more flirtatious. NOT IN A "you're so cute i could eat you up" type of way but more like "you're mine. Got it?~" type of way (I'M SORRY IM UNSURE HOW TO WRITE HIM I'VE NEVER WRITTEN BEFORE WAAAA-)

(Also this is very suggestive 😳)

The arcade doctor x abused run away reader

TW's: abusive parents, running away from home

Your mother had yelled at you, once again.

She never heard what you had to say, never even turned her head when you told her that your brother snuck out again.

she always favored him over you, making you clean dishes, cook dinner and have the highest grades.

Even if you got a mere A- she'd yell at you. Yet, your brother, who never got a grade above C-, never got punished in his life.

So, you decided to run away.

You've been planning this for weeks.

Your plan was to leave to go "hang out with friends" because she'd let you if you did everything she asked you to, on top of getting an A+ on every assignment you had that week.

You only took your water bottle and phone, seeing as she would yell at you if she noticed your backpack looked "stuffed full of condoms/alcohol/cigarettes". you never understood her logic.

You approach the exit, before telling her:

"mom! I'm gonna go hang out with my friends!"

You then hear your chainsmoker-mother's hoarse voice yell back:

"you actually have friends?!"

She laughed.

"Alright, fine, but only today. No more going out for the rest of the month, got it?! And be back BEFORE 5."

But you knew you wouldn't be back. You yell back, making sure not to be too loud, as she'd take it as 'disrespectful':

"alright, bye, mom"

And then you leave.

And you ran. And ran. You ran for so long, you had no idea where you were. Your mom never let you go so far away from the house, and yet...

This place felt more like home than anywhere else.

And then...

You fell... Through the ground?

This can't be right, can it?

You felt... Pixel-y? Glitchy? You felt... Unnatural.

EVERYTHING felt unnatural.

...and then you saw.. violet skies?

'What is this place?'

You thought to yourself.

Then, the violet ended.

You saw many places flash before your eyes, as well as your life, you saw a pumpkin patch, a graveyard, a circus tent, (continue) ... and then everything got so blurry you couldn't even make out colors.

you felt like you were falling for eternity, and then..

you fell right onto your back.

Your entire body had no sensation for a few moments, possibly from the adrenaline rush, and when you did get it back, everything hurt.

It was dull, not sharp at all, But it hurt like hell.

Your mind was foggy from all of the pain.

But you could conjure up one thought as you were recovering:

'Good thing I'm used to it, since I was beat by my mother. At least that's an up side.'

You knew it wasn't a good thing at all, but you had to view things in a positive light, considering your circumstances.

You didn't know how you were still even alive, but thanked whatever deity or guardian angel saved you.

After what felt like hours, the pain was finally gone.

You tried to get up, and it worked! You once again thanked whatever deity or guardian angel saved you from breaking all your bones.

Your entire body hurt though.

It was less then before, but it still lingered.

You then looked around, and to your right you saw...

'An... Arcade? Here?!'

You thought to yourself, not believing you eyes, rubbing them.

You read the sign above the door...

'JOTAS ARCADE where fun spreads like the plague'

'...what a strange name for someone...'

You thought

'Surely it's just a mascot, and isn't real... right?'

The slogan seemed fitting, though, seeing as the mascot looks like a plague doctor.

You decide to come inside...

The first thing you notice is....

Everything is an eye-gouging neon green. Your head hurt from it.

You close your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the pain, putting your hands over them.

You then hear a voice..

"[ J:\\ WELCOME TO JOTA'S ARCADE, WHERE FUN SPREADS LIKE THE PLAGUE! ...CAN I HELP YOU? ]"

You're surprised that there's anyone even here, from the glimpses you could catch of the place, it looked run down, wires hanging from the ceiling, something goo-like on the walls, arcade cabinets with no buttons...

"[ J:\\ EXCUSE ME? ARE YOU JUST GONNA STAND THERE? ]

you then reply with:

"J-just give me a second.. my head hurts..."

You make sure the last part is silent, stumbling over your words a little from the confusion.

You then notice you've finally acclimated to the neon greens of the arcade, realizing only after opening your eyes and not feeling any pain.

You take away your hands from your eyes, looking around, noticing the voice you had heard came from a plague doctor behind the prize counter, he looked just like who you had seen on the sign, assuming that was 'JOTA'

He was a green so neon, he was almost glowing... Wait, was he?

'...it could be weirder. at least I'm okay...'

You think, thankful you're even alive.

You see the plague doctor was now speaking to a hooded figure...

You decide to not think about that, and investigate the arcade cabinet which you had seen, walking over to it.

'surely I'm just seeing things, right?'

You think to yourself.

After You had come over to the arcade cabinet, you then see your eyes hadn't deceived you, it really had no buttons.

'thats... Why would an arcade not have any buttons? How would you even play...'

You cut yourself off, trying to stop yourself from panicking.

'...this isn't the weirdest thing I had seen, it could be worse.'

You look back, seeing the plague doctor was still speaking to the hooded figure, you now notice that the figure had eyes nearly glowing green, though, you wouldn't be surprised if they really did.

and then, you finally noticed.. the plague doctor.. his right arm seemed... Off.

It was.. corrupted? You just decided to ignore it, this was already more abnormal than you'd like it to be, so it's probably better to just ignore it.

You decided to walk around, look for any sign of someone else who understood what's happening..

yet all you found were corpses.

Your mom had forced you to witness horrible things in movies, so you were mostly unbothered.

But still afraid of the idea of someone being able to hurt you.

After you had seen that nobody, well, living was here, except for that hooded figure and the plague doctor, you decide to ask one of them.

You look back, noticing the hooded figure walk away.

You decide to ask the plague doctor what was happening.

'his name was JOTA, right?'

You were quite forgetful, so you weren't sure of yourself.

You walked over to the prize counter, repeating what you going to say over and over in your head, not wanting to mess up.

Once you get there, you had finally conjured up the courage to speak.

"u-um excuse me, your n-name is 'JOTA' right?"

"[ J:\\ THE ONE AND ONLY! ]"

"I uhm.. w-where exactly a-am I? I-I mean I know I'm in your arcade! I'm just... Lost.."

"[ J:\\ LOST? SO, YOU MEAN TO SAY YOU GOT HERE ON ACCIDENT? ]"

"Y-yes.."

"[ J:\\ WELL, YOU'RE OUT OF LUCK. ]"

"w-..what?!"

"[ J:\\ THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO, KID! I'D RECOMMEND GETTING USED TO SEEING GREEN! ]"

You sigh, and start walking away, thinking.

'at least it's better than before..'

"[ J:\\ HOLD ON. ]"

you stop dead in your tracks, turning around, and walking back to the prize counter.

"[ J:\\ HOW ABOUT A DEAL? YOU HELP ME AROUND THE ARCADE, AND I KEEP YOU ALIVE. ]"

He reaches out his right hand, seemingly grinning, though you couldn't tell if he was actually grinning, because of the mask, you could hear it in his voice.

"[ J:\\ WHAT DO YOU SAY, KID? ]"

You hesitate, knowing you might be making a bad decision, but you've seen the corpses, and have no other choices.

You shake his hand.

"d-deal.."

You say, hesitantly.

"[ J:\\ JEHEHE! ANOTHER ONE TO THE SLAUGHTER~ ]"

You shudder. It was frightening, but the way he said that last part made you a little giddy.

He let's go, you immediately retract your hand.

"[ J:\\ SO, WHAT'S YOUR NAME? ]"

"m-my name is Y/N.."

"[ J:\\ WHAT A GREAT NAME FOR MY NEW LITTLE PUPPET~ ]"

You blushed.

He left the prize counter, walking over to you... But he didn't stop once he was in front of you. You walked backwards, him backing you into a wall. He pinned you against it.

You were afraid, but very flustered.

"[ J:\\ WELL, AREN'T YOU CUTE FOR A TOY~ ]"

He said, cupping your chin with his clawed hand, inspecting his new doll.

He then let go, running his claws against your neck roughly. It hadn't drawn blood, it just hurt. but.. it felt good. It made you let out a breathy sigh.

"[ J:\\ JEHE~ SUCH A SUBMISSIVE LITTLE PLAYTHING~ ]"

He said, a flirtatious lace in his voice.

[ J:\\ NOW, HOW ABOUT WE RAISE THE STAKES A BIT, DEAR?~ YOU COULD EITHER PUT ON A "SHOW" FOR ME HERE AND NOW, OOOR YOU COME BACK TO MY OFFICE, AT THE COST OF YOU WALKING PROPERLY FOR A FEW WEEKS~ ]

He said, making sure you heard the last part.

You were sure that you would've blushed harder by now, if you could.

"I-I uh pick the latter"

You said, unable to stop yourself from saying that.

"[ J:\\ GOOD~ ]"

He said, before picking you up and carrying you to his office. You were a flustered mess.

Once you two were in his office, he set you down onto his desk, putting his hands on either side of you, pinning you against it.

Then... I'll leave it up to your imagination -v•

(basically, I CANT WRITE EROTICA YOU DO IT)

#tw abuse #tw abusive parents #tw running away #tw corpse mention #tw death mention #suggestive #the fic i promised #i can't write. sorry :[

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anti-endo-haven · 1 month

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Tws:, gaslighting and manipulation, emotional incest (?), online grooming (Im so sorry if there's more I forgot, pls stay safe <3)

today's been a very stressful day so far, our step mother messaged the body's younger sister telling her how depressed our bio father was because we (us and our siblings) haven't seen/talked to him in a while, so the drama with my bio father has triggered a lot of memories that I hate, tbh almost any mention of him does, especially bc then we started talking about how my therapist thinks our bio father is a pedo, it doesn't help that I'm already a trauma holder for similar trauma, like it's brought up memories of the time our bio father would randomly just squeeze our hips, or the times he would grab us by our hips and pull us against him while we were cuddling, as well as the time he made me put on my bathing suit and basically model it for him to make sure it was "appropriate" it was a two piece and I had already tried it on, he made me do this in front of our siblings, it doesn't help that this happened around the time the trauma I hold happened, I hold our online grooming trauma, it happened from when we were around 10 until about 13, it doesn't help that because of this trauma ive been hypersexual since I was 10, I feel so disgusting and gross, I feel tainted, I want to rip my skin off but there's nothing I can do about it now, I'm sorry this was so long, I just needed to vent and get this off my chest

(💊 from the rainbow system)

It isn’t your fault that you’re not talking to an abuser. Your step-mother is in the wrong completely for trying to weaponize depression against you. He dug his grave, he can lay in it. He is disgusting and has hurt kids that he was supposed to care for.

Try and find some things that can help you destress and provide some happiness. I know it might not be much, but even a little help can do some wonders.

It’s vile behavior that he did and you didn’t deserve that. None of that was your fault. His actions are his own and you were trying to live and survive.

I’m sorry you went through all of that so young, the internet can be terrible and there’s so many people that will harm others. You don’t deserve to be hurt like that, you didn’t deserve to be hurt like that.

You’re not disgusting or gross, it’s sad that it’s a product of what happened, but you’re doing an excellent job. I’m proud of you. You’re good enough. You’re not a disappointment, you’re not a mistake, you’re not a failure. You’re a survivor and we will always stick together. If you need to cut your stepmother out of your life to be able to do better mentally, do so if you’re able.

If you’re able, see if a luke warm or preferred temperature bath can help. Add some music in the background. Bath bomb if you have one, use some body wash for bubbles, small things to make it a little better. Just to relax. This is completely optional and I know it doesn’t work for everyone. We use these as a more serene thing, saying that the water is washing away what we don’t want to be there, the bubbles are a form of soap which is helping wash it away. The music is to help ground us. Again, it’s completely optional and it might not help so 100% try and find something that can help ground you when you’re able to.

Much love from us! You’re doing everything you can and you’re doing great. ❤️

Have a cookie!

🍪

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anonymous-dentist · 1 year

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okay im catching up and from what im reading- oh the Federation never trusted this catboy for a second... Cellbit, THE fucking puzzle guys, first task leading him to the password being 'feelps'... like it was such bait... and he took it- and of course that password just happens to lead him to a secret room revealing what happened to his best friend Felps... of course it would- and when he finally dropped the facade and ran to try to tell his son, they reeled him in. Sorry buddy, you signed the contract- you are a member of the qsmp census bureau, Cellbit. you did this all for nothing!

Okay so this goes to a theory that I've quietly had for the past couple of days since this plot started, and the theory is as such: Cucurucho went along with this because Cellbit said that joining the Federation and getting revenge would make him happy. Because that's Cucurucho's job! It makes people happy so that they stay on the island.

(I personally believe that it had something to do with the Brazilians and the French arriving because, right before the Brazilians crashed, Roier told Cucurucho that having more friends would make him happy again [this is right after q!Spreen basically went into self-imposed exile.])

So Cucurucho does its job. It knows that Cellbit likes playing detective and he likes being mysterious, so it gives him little jobs where he has to sneak around and lie to his friends. It knows that Cellbit likes Roier, so it asks him to check on him. It knows that Cellbit wants to see secrets, so it lets him see some secrets. But in the end, he wasn't happy, because the puzzles Cucurucho gave him led to a really depressing thing!!!

So now that Cellbit is in deep, he's part of the Federation. That means he isn't part of the island anymore. That means that Cucurucho doesn't have to keep him happy anymore. It gave him what he wanted, but then it told him, oops! You dug your own grave, My Literal Worst Enemy! :) Disfruta La Isla!

#asks!#friends tm #yeah no sorry i've been sitting on this for DAYS

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nabtime · 10 months

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Our Empty Graves I

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 1: im sorry mom ive got to go (I dug this grave I call my home)

Chapter Notes: title from Lonely by Palaye Royale Links: AO3 // Chapter 2

Danny stared down the barrel of his mother’s gun.

“How dare you,” she said, voice hoarse and barely there. Her hands were shaking. He knew, though, as he looked into the toxic green of the blaster, that her aim would hold true regardless.

He said nothing. Even if he was physically capable of speech in this form he would have nothing to say. He was exhausted, on all levels. He couldn’t do this anymore. His parents were the last of the stubborn Amity Parkers that refused to leave and there was no avoiding them when he was trying to defend what was left of his haunt, trying to defend the portal so that any ghosts causing mischief would steer clear. For their sake and his. The GIW had been in rare form lately and he wasn’t ready to find more ghosts strapped to a table.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the town was pulled into the Realms, stuck after he’d defeated Pariah with no way of sending everyone back to the material plane. But it felt like a long time now. He’d lost track of the exact date since he’d given up on being human.

“Where is he,” she snarled, shoving the gun closer, feet away from his face. “What did you do with my son?”

He could give nothing but a rattling echoey sigh, distorted and piercing. A smaller version of his ghostly wail and about the only sound he could make without mass destruction.

He was tired. Exhausted from his latest fight with Skulker. The hunter would not rest until he’d gained the rarest pelt of them all. Phantom’s. The child ghost. The Halfa. The Fetch. The ultimate prize. He didn’t have anything left in him after getting Skulker to leave, fighting for what was left of his life and winning by a hair. He couldn’t just dump the ghosts in the Ghost Zone anymore, not when he also lived there. They were either put in time out in the thermos or fought off. Everything within his body ached. Everything within his soul ached. He didn’t think he could survive this confrontation with his mother and he almost felt like… he didn’t want to.

He lay limp where he’d fallen after battle, resting against his own empty grave. His dad and Jazz had insisted on having the funeral after his first full year of being missing. His mom had gone off the deep end and refused to believe he was dead. She was only half right.

“You’re sitting on his grave,” she yelled, voice cracking with tears. “Where is he?”

He shook his head. He’d long since given up on returning to his family. On ever being human again. He died in that accident and pretending otherwise, no matter that he somehow wasn’t a full ghost, would only hurt everyone in the long run. He’d already hurt them so, so much.

His mom and dad were the last ones left in Amity and they needed to let go. They were already reduced to staying at a hotel for a good majority of the time, unable to stay within the Realms with their puny human bodies for long. They needed to move out, permanently. He couldn’t bare to see them waste away here. One Fenton haunting the Zone was enough.

After a few good beats of silence she drew closer- her gun drew closer. Her steps crunched in the dead grass around them, cast a sickly green from the glow of the neon sky.

“You wear the same HazMat my husband and I designed,” she said quietly. “You showed up the same time Danny had his accident.” The barrel of the gun made contact with the tinted shield that hid his face. “I need answers!” she screamed.

He knew his mother wasn’t dumb, however willfully ignorant his parents seemed at times. She was so close to connecting the impossible dots, but knew she would never make them. She didn’t want to. She wanted her son back and all that was left was a monster.

He could see his reflection in her goggles. The bright green pin-pricks that counted as eyes. The inhuman shape of the suit swallowing him. The face shield blocking any recognizable features and the entire ghostly glow that surrounded him. Maddie’s own face was hidden behind the face shield of her suit, but if he looked close enough he could see the fear and denial within her once familiar lilac eyes.

He pulled the gun closer and held it to his head. He was so, so tired.

“I watched your fight with Pariah, you know,” she whispered. “I saw how you Ended him.”

A jolt of surprise and fear flooded down his spine, his grip on the gun tightening. He hated being reminded of what he’d had to do to Pariah. Hated the blood on his hands and the feeling of the core he’d crushed within them. But this was another level. She saw him End another. His mother had witnessed him become a murderer.

“I could End you too, you know,” she said, a deep sadness in her tone. The fear within him spiked. She reached out a gentle hand and cradled his head. “End my little boy’s pain.”

Breath he didn’t need caught in his throat, a strangled sound erupting from his core. Inhuman and full of terror. He’d already been willing to let his mother shoot him, to let her take out her pain on his aching body. But she could actually End him here. She could End him knowing he was her son.

Pain like nothing else ripped through him, his emotions growing erratic and effecting his form. Everything warped and he dropped the gun like it burned as he scrambled back against his headstone, trying in vain to gather enough energy to fly. To get away.

“Hold still for me, won’t you, dear?”

Panic built within his chest, his core (his fragile, tiny core) rattling against his ribs. His arms and legs felt impossibly heavy as he clawed at the dirt to move away, digging and digging as he tried to hoist himself up over the headstone.

Here Lies Daniel J. Fenton Beloved Son and Brother Gone Before His Time June 13th 19XX – August 16th 20XX

And wasn’t it funny, somehow? That he’d be dying, forever and fully, over his own empty grave?

He could feel the heat of the blaster warming up for the killing blow. Sense the necrotic scent of rancid ectoplasm building behind him. It would take more than one shot to End him, to cleave him open enough for her to snatch his core. To crush it.

“It won’t hurt too bad, baby,” his mom cooed. An edge to her voice he couldn’t identify. “Just like getting a shot at the pediatrician’s all over again.”

He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He was tired but he didn’t want to End. Not here, not now. Not at the hands of his mother. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t let her shoulder that awful, awful guilt. He needed to get away. He needed so, so desperately to leave. Amity had long since emptied. There was no one left to protect within his Haunt. He needed to leave.

Something gave way beneath his leg, dirt folding into empty space with a horrific lurch. His face smashed into the ground as he unbalanced.

She shot him in the leg first. The one not buried in the dirt and hanging into nothingness.

A shattered wail was building in his core, as close to a scream as he could get. He was trying to gasp in as much air as he could through the clumps of dirt and fetid rot that surrounded all graves. He could feel the leak of warm ectoplasm leaving his burning limb. The more he lost the more it would take to recover. And the more it would take to get away.

She caught an arm next. It felt like she was toying with him. Pinning him down like yet another specimen to examine on the table. He could feel bone crack with the point blank range shot, his skin partially melting with the heat and bleeding even more toxic green ooze. He used his other arm to claw further into the depths. He didn’t know what was beyond this, but if he dug in enough maybe he could fall through. His hand hit something solid and he cried, desperate to break through and escape. It was his only option. He kicked at it with his leg, steel toe of his boot just barely scratching its surface. His hands were closer to whatever shape it made under the dirt. He punched instead.

She shot the base of his spine and he could feel his nerves twitch and writhe uselessly. She shot him again in the same spot and they fell still. He couldn’t feel them anymore. His digging and punching grew more frantic. He used his broken arm despite the pain, just needing to get away, away, away.

Cuts and bruises from his fight with Skulker were making themselves known in the frenzy, screaming and burning with his hurried movements. The knock to the head he’d gotten wasn’t helping things either. Everything was going blurry with panic and it hurt, hurt, hurt. He was sobbing without sound and the shaking of his core was constricting his lungs and making his chest heave. He was an animal caught in a trap, eating away at its own flesh in order to flee. To live.

Bright green broke through the ground in jagged lines, crackling with power as he felt his bleeding knuckles shatter whatever barrier had lain under the empty space. Everything gave way and the last thing he could hear was his mother’s screaming as he plummeted. Sweet relief overcame the dread as black filled his vision.

═════ ◈ ═════

He woke, sometime later, on another man’s grave.

Here Lies Jason P. Todd Beloved Son and Brother Gone Before His Time August 16th 19XX – June 13th 20XX

#naps fics #dp x dc #Our Empty Graves #dpxdc

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imvriix · 2 years

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could I get guts, griffith, and casca hcs for them with an autistic reader? stuff they do include avoiding eye contact frequently, SO MUCH info dumping, seeming blunt/rude without meaning to, buffering/standing still for a few minutes sometimes, reliance on rules, pacing/walking aimlessly a lot, mimicking others behaviors to seem ‘normal’, being very sympathetic towards animals/people, no sense of direction, and bringing up the most random things during any situation? also maybe even something about swords being their special interest ɷ◡ɷ berserk is set in European medieval times I think so perhaps they would be considered an oddball or weird.

──────────────────────

" 𝔦𝔣 𝔦𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭𝔰 . . . "

contains + featuring ;; — griffith, guts, casca x autistic! gn! reader [ seperate, golden age arc ]

a/n ;; — took me ages to start this since im in a bad authors block atm, sorry. hope the actual headcannons make up for it though.

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⋆*･ﾟ: :✧*⋆ ･ﾟ

guts —

i think he'd just sit, very very confused, as you ramble on about different things that caught your eye during the day.

he kind of nods along but he really can't process anything, hes mostly all big muscle man rather than brains but he lets you go on about the ' exact angle he should polish his sword from ' because it seems to make you happy somehow.

" if it helps, you should probably tilt the sword by holding the hilt like this, and then you start polishing from this end to this, but in this direction instead. "

" .. yeah, okay. "

he tries to keep up, he really does, but he just can't.

if you get flustered due to making eye contact, i think he'd feel so much proud about causing that and being the reason.

i also think he'd find it so funny when you outright insult corkus without even knowing you had, he'd probably even mock him about it afterwards.

but if it was towards him he'd just sigh and ruffle your hair.

he'd find it weird if you dose off and just stand in one position in dead silence and stillness right after pacing around, he'd probably try snap you out of it and bring you back to the real world.

although he doesn't even bother asking what it was about because he'd know he wouldn't understand either way.

he'd try and keep you happy as well as he can, but he will beat the ass of anyone that calls you weird. i don't think anyone would really even dare to when they see he has a particular liking for you, but if they did, they'd have dug their own grave.

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casca —

she'd be happy to listen to whatever you say, she'd just be glad you were able to talk to her so freely about whatevers on your mind.

she'd be so proud about it too, thinking about little things you seem to enjoy or do by habit.

if you ever locked eyes with her just to quickly look away, she wouldn't say anything about it but she'd smile warmly as if to tell you that you could trust her.

she'd always lecture you about not getting lost, she'd be so worried about you not being there and she'd look around for you the entire day.

it gets to the point that she makes you hold her hand so you dont wander off as easily.

athough it was partly so that she'd get to hold your hand, but she left that out.

she'd find it adorable how you seem to be fond of and care for animals. she doesn't get why you like them as much as you do, but she'd much rather you like them than be cruel towards them.

she also listens to your recommendations about using her sword and the types of weapons, as she always aims to become stronger due to her leaving womanhood behind.

she also likes it when you put your hands on hers while she clutches the hilt of her sword so you can try help with how she's holding it.

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griffith —

loves loves loves when you ramble on about your interests.

he properly discusses whatever your talking about with you, he just loves learning more and more about you and memorising every little detail you provide.

he just doesn't get bored talking to you, and its so much more different compared to many others talking to him with jealousy and fake superiority.

lots of the time, he already knows everything about what your conversation topic is, but he still lets you talk to him about it because there's no bigger reward than seeing you all happy and excited.

" hey, griffith? did you know dolphins sleep with one eye open? "

he probably did because he read it somewhere, but he stills smiles and says no as you begin to talk, visibly giddy.

we all know griffith seems to like being in charge and listened to, so he'd be happy with you relying on whatever he tells you to do.

he'd also find your interest in swords really interesting, and it wouldn't hurt to take note of the things you tell him about the different fighting techniques you could use with them either.

he gets to improve his skills and listen to you talk to him, two birds with one stone.

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#anime #berserk #berserk manga #berserk anime #berserk headcannons #berserk guts #berserk casca #berserk griffith #berserk x gender neutral reader #griffith x reader #casca x reader #guts x reader

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kocherry · 1 year

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Hiii i was just wondering when you will post the interlude and epilogue of your pierro x reader fanfic... i am just really curious by how it ends. Although I guess the fanfic did end but i feel like there is more to the stor shshhs im sorry if i sound so demanding btwww i hope i dont sound so rude...

I just really like how you twisted the isekai story into princess reader having problems with the Fatui to the point she deleted her memory just to live in ignorance since she technically couldn't die because of the immortality curse... which also brings me to another question... aside from falling into the abyss, is erosion also part of the reason why she's pushed to her limits?

Cuz you're a prophet if that's the case since base on the recent archon quest, Clothar Alberich definitely has lost his marbles. So there's just parallels to his mindset with Reader's. The only difference between them is that Reader and Pierro were just implied to just want to topple the Heavenly Principles.

Sorry if this is too long xD

Hi anon to answer your question if I'm going to finish my Pierro x Reader fanfic... hehe...

HAHAHAHAHAHA fckkk im so sorry if the interlude and epilogue hasn't been published yet.

I dug my own grave because I made the reader having relations with Khaenri'ah and I did play the archon quest just so I could learn more lore about the fallen nation. That's why it took so long so now I'm profusely editing the Interlude chapter just so the minor details can be lore accurate.

And yes I'm glad you pointed out the erosion of immortality because that was definitely the case as to why Reader often loses her mind during the flashbacks.

As for the Fatui and the Abyss, I honestly don't know if they are working together but I just have a theory that they aren't. From what we know so far the Fatui is having a rebellion against the Heavenly Principles with the leadership of the Tsaritsa. Aaaand the Abyss wants to destroy Teyvat itself.

So their principles are already different but I really don't know if they are working together. Altho Scaramouche said that Pierro is fascinated with the Abyss because he gets sent there often.

Thank you anon for reading and appreciating my first published works! And anyways if I missed something feel free to send me another ask or comment below!

You guys can read my Pierro x Reader fanfic titled as Truthful Adoration in False Illusions here! Part 1 and Part 2 (seperate links) or you guys can read in AO3 ♡

#pierro #pierro x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin theories #my personal speculations base on lore #again im so sorry for the delay HAHAHAHAH #answering your questions :>

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mantaphase · 2 years

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(for the ship ask thijg) u dug ur own grave w this one 😼

Chelley (chell x wheatley) (your answer may impact our friendship) (also i recognize that chell x glados is superior but y’know.)

im sorry baby but this is not it

this post took me so long to write i.e. i started as soon as the ask came in and im only posting it now. this is because chelley, for no sensible reason, reads as crack to me. after some consideration i realize that this is because i struggle to see wheatley as a person. i want to say its bc he was never human (unlike my two favorite ais which are glados and hal) but honestly i think it's just his personality. hes just like that. absolutely off the wall do you even have emotions type beat. his demeanor and thought patterns and worldview are so alien to me that it activates a neural signal which my brain has no idea how to interpret so it just returns "?????" like when someone sends an emoji you don't have and it's just that box. thats why ive never written anything abt him i just cant imitate that level of []. hes incomprehensible to me - which makes for a GREAT character (especially an antagonist) and a perfect blorbo but not very good shipping material :/

HOWEVER you have brought to mind the idea of UNREQUITED chelley which.........ohoho. Thats Some Potential. it is kind of what happens in canon anyway but. ok. listen the fact is i can't see chell being into him. like i can't imitate wheatley, ok sure, but i know what hes like! i cant do that with chelley my brain is just turning a blank. i have no clue how she would act or think if she liked him romantically and its weirding me out JAJDJXBX

all that to say the idea of wheatley finding his humanity through his love for/obsession with chell while she thinks of him as a funny little guy who follows her around....... thats poetry honestly. catch me writing this dynamic later. not with wheatley though i was being serious abt not being able to write him :(

i do love their dynamic in canon but its kinda tied to the story i guess? you can take the characters out of the game but actually no you cant. chassis!wheatley is very important to me BECAUSE of how he changes in response to his new role. in my mind his relationship with chell is defined by the progression from "okay no that's jumping" to the button bomb. idk. i want to study him and also this ship under a microscope but whenever i try my eyes stop working. at some point you will have to help me break this strange mental block but that point is not this point because its almost 2:30 haha goodnighg

#phaseposting #phaseanswering #ask game #honest to god i try to think about them like i would any other ship and my brain just short circuits. goes blank. nothing here #like when ur hand falls asleep and you can see it and poke it but it feels like youre poking someone elses hand. no feeling. thats chelley.#LOVE THEM AS FRIENDS THOUGH i need to go find those fics where he escaped w her bc that was good shit and i miss it #anyway i love you goodnight<>

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thebrideoftiffany · 1 year

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okay idk much about horror stuff bc I am a pansy but I do know a lot about being very deadpanned and odd as a child so imagine its kind of like the scene with steve and dustin where they’re walking through the woods but instead of baiting an eldritch monster, hes getting dragged to a graveyard to dig up someone’s dead pet

hes awakened by the feeling of eyes on him.

sam is standing not too far from the end of his side of the bed, knocking his foot off the bed when he notices that steve is up.

“come on” sam harshly whispered , “i need you to take me to the graveyard”

“TO THE GRAVE-“ a shush from sam and groan from henry shuts him quickly. steve points to the door and sam understands immediately

“why do you need to go to a graveyard in the middle of the night!” steve whisper yells.

“he’s up” sam offers nothing else. nothing but a quick pace to the doorway sliding into his boots he never ties and picking up steve’s keys. looking between the bedroom door and the front door left open steve makes a decision to follow after sam and ask questions later. he doesnt need henry waking up panicking about his kid running off in the middle of the night, especially to a graveyard.

with a huff, begrudgingly stuffing his feet into his slippers (house shoes be damned).

sam already parked himself in the front passenger seat, his music playing way too loud, as if its a regular day and not the middle of the night.

“finally! hes probably dead again already”

it all feels like really weird dream. hes driving on a shitty dirt road through the woods to go to a graveyard because his boyfriend’s son told him to. steve’s waiting for the faceless monsters to come out to fully commit to the strangeness.

and sam… Sam is not saying a goddamn thing. no explanation, no slips of information. just telling steve where to turn.

“can i at least ask…” steve trailed off when fixed sam’s sharp gaze on him

“you get one question”

“who is ‘he’?”

“binx” he said it like it was common sense. ahh yeah we’re going to see binx at the graveyard @ 3am what else would we be doing

“you have your shovel right?”

“my shovel?”

“you used all your questions. yes or no?”

“i never had a shovel…i have a bat?”

“great steve! gonna beat a hole in the ground.”

“im sorry, i didnt know i would grave digging anytime soon. i’ll be better prepared for next time”

“see look a quick learner too! and they say youre just a pretty face” sam said with a sarcastic smile “it should be fine he doesnt feel that big so maybe hes not that deep in. nothing a big stick and rock cant do” he continued, mumbling mostly to himself

sam walks off on his own analyzing every stick and stonehenge, steve following close behind him (its one thing to take sam in the middle of the night but to lose him too, he might as well stay at the yard)

“what are we looking for?”

“i answered that already” walking closer to the end of the graveyard, where it started to bleed into the woods. steve was starting to regret not having a flashlight

it wasnt until sam stopped by some loose dirt that looked like it was breathing. “fuck fuck fuck i got you little buddy dont worry” it came out rushed a worried. the most empathetic steve has ever heard sam sound. it worried him the usually quiet and deadpanned teen sounded on the edge of tears. wordlessly, steve rushed off to help dig up the dirt with his bare hands.

they had dug until steve saw a small black paw. moving more frantically when a weak cry was heard, sam tried moving the dirt from around the animal to give more space to move around. few minutes of waiting and the cat was crawling its way up. slowly and gently, sam had coaxed the whimpering cat onto his laps, laying calming pets on its head.

the cat was small and all black, had a weird face; missing left eye and tattered ear, the left side of his face was furless in general. The cat was shaking but not frightened, “hey uh..” breaking the tense silence “i have a sweater in the backseat of the car, do you uh…do you think he’s cold” steve had offered, just wanting to help.

there was a beat of silence, before sam attempted to stand up without disturbing the the cat, “that’ll be great actually” he said softly, all of his attention focused on the cat.

a quiet walk back to the car, steve opens the front door to help sam in and then goes through the back to grab his hoodie from the backseat. “do you need anything else while we’re out?”

“i dont think anything is open right now… but binx will need some food soon” another duration of silence before steve piped up again.

“can i at least know what just happened?” before sam could respond steve interrupted with, “and no more evading answers. you woke me up to go get a dead cat. i at least should know what is happening”

“…binx wasnt on his last life. i felt him come back alive again and needed to make sure he was okay.” the cat was now asleep, bundled up in the sweater and in sam’s arms.

“does henry know about this…cat resurrection thing youre doing”

“of course. he usually helps nurse them back to health and we take them to shelters so they can find families again” the smallest but most genuine smile steve has ever seen flashed on sam’s face before it was back to his usual stony, impassive state. “do we have eggs at home binx will need some protein”

“yeah yeah sure…” steve was unsure how to take the answer. on one hand it still felt like a weird dream and the other he was still too tired to tired to question whether sam was bullshitting him or not. what truly outdid him for the night was when he heard sam start to coo at the cat.

sam softly baby talking to the cat, “and maybe some bread, you came back from the dead you deserve a little special treat” bewildered but not entirely sure hes surprised by the turn this night had taken steve pulled into his parking spot.

“im going to take him to my room, can you get started on boiling like 2 eggs” not taking his eyes off the cat he walked up to the door and waited for steve to open it.

steve went into the bathroom to wash the dirt off his hands before going back to the kitchen to grab a pot and eggs and got that started. the need for sleep started to settle in but if he stayed in the kitchen. sam came back looking in the cabinet for a bowl, choosing some tupperware and filling it with water, he wordlessly went back to his room

this turned out way longer than i thought it was going to be sorry and sorry for any mistakes.

oh my god anon i Love it thank you for sharing

bonding with your boyfriend's son through his hobby of resurrecting pets. also you mentioned sam just standing over them while they sleep, and i've always thought of that as a staple of the horror-ish aus, where steve wakes up to this creepy kid just Staring at him in the middle of the night and jumps a foot in the air while henry is like "aw. hey baby. you wanna sleep in here?"

the next morning, after their little impromptu fieldtrip, steve's pretty groggy, sipping what he knows will be the first of multiple coffees. sam isn't paying him any more attention than he usually does (which is none) and he'd be convinced it was all a strange dream if it weren't for the cat purring in his lap.

"good morning," henry says, rounding into the kitchen and immediately spotting the cat, "oh, binx is up. why didn't you get me last night?"

"you said you had a headache," sam mutters back and steve can see his boyfriend soften.

"sweet boy," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around sam and pressing his cheek against his hair (only person who's ever been allowed to do something like that), "but i don't want you going out by yourself in the middle of the night."

"i didn't," sam says, "steve was with me."

"oh, he was?" henry says, sparing a glance for his boyfriend before turning back to his son, "and did you tell him thank you?"

steve can see sam sigh a little before actually looking at him for the first time all morning.

"thank you, steve."

steve mutters back a soft welcome, more interested in watching henry smile and press a kiss against the crown of sam's head before pulling away. he's sort of convinced that he's actually still in a dream, that he never woke up and it's just ongoing, but when henry presses a kiss against his lips and murmurs his own thanks for taking care of his boy, he decides he doesn't mind.

#long post #anonymous #henry series

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frankenphetamine · 1 year

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Jabberwocky.

everyone’s tripping on tower bricks and crystal candycanes. twin bruises girl, you know what i mean pain star, call upon your saint of choice...Im tired of your perverted crush

i opened up to your wind rush and rejoiced

such a long long time ago and turned my back when i saw your muddy body in an ocean grave post-you showing

to me your truest colors and stabbed yourself face-first.

i turned the other cheek too much i told you sorry but i'm not. you were vile little alice. and twice as fucking vain. you planted seeds of jealousy in your flying monkeys trying to saddle me with blame.

you’re not a wicked witch yknow, you no longer have to play the part, my little horned flame.

they try to look and act like different masks of mine because you can't seem to replace me.

so why whine? because you broke your own damn heart with expectations and competitive childlike flaunts and you know now you’ll never beat me, yet…

i never wanted this for us and never thought of you ill that way. i loved you dearly but not queerly so you chose to run away.

it's your turn for the qliphoth now.

i've seen god and before him, in the abyss you too shall bow. your soul will mush, decay and rot. but you too shall be reborn as a babalonian jackpot

i crossed the abyss some times and i hope you cross it 3 times harder. the dark night of the soul awaits you. a punishment for repeated betrayal. betrayed me and betrayed yourself, your truest will and so did your selfish pawns.

i only screwed him because you screwed mine first. your power drill nails etched your name into my heart because you hate me. because you need me, and i loved you in a way you didn't want.

i truly tried to be your friend. not your experiment or toy. not your sidepiece or gay twin flame. not your charity accessory left gaunt

bought drugs for you and cried with you, chauffeured you and played your maid. i never wanted to compete with you but you couldn't stand the beacon in my soul and sprayed it with acidic Raid.

im a black hole now so honey try not to get sucked into the tirade.

i turned the other cheek too much and lapped up all your tears, i never tore your spirit down because the truth falls on deaf ears.

plato's cave is where you stay with your army of social elites. you all remind me of billionaires, the way our backs ache from your pairs of trust fund feet.

are the dots starting to connect yet miss alice? i know you feel ashamed. you’re only sorry for me and my struggle now because you’ve been defamed.

i’ll say it once and i’ll say it again, cus The Whore has just rode in.

i turned the other cheek too much my dear and you really love to strike when i can’t see you.

my blood dries purple. you made a martyr of me. i wear the crown, of silver lilac lavender, my three eyes bleed blue rivers clean, and my severed neck bears pearls and golden faked aquamarine, my heart pumps out green lightning. my stomach a golden meadow

of carnage under the moon, my womb a flaming holy wound. my sex an aching rushing haze of red and amethyst.

royal chrisist crucifixion, i wear my scars from you.

I strike you down girl, cus you were never friend but foe, you. dug your talons in… and i lost everything… but in the end what did you gain?

sweet alice please don’t be so vain, your fanclub’s had enough! be wiser and behave like a woman grown… i think we’ve both had enough… check your heart and like a phoenix or scorpions tail, i hope youre fit to rise.

and you, the brainless scarecrow, you’ve made me stiff like hay.

i inherit emerald city and toss your memory like a can of tin. I wear the mark of the beast and white and blue for my future munchkins.

you, april rose… bear the hat of the fool. I’ll hide you from your rabbit hole just for preying on me in high school. i am the white rabbit; see, you have to stop chasing after me. wake up my loves it’s time to say goodbye to wonderland where you’re kings and queens of swords, illuminating hell with your deceptive fabric lies and attempting me and i, my kingdom, my jabberwocky. i the queen of hearts and dorthyann and mallory, see past your pixels, hear me: your tok is tikking girl. the doctors got your medicine, on tower pills you choke. heavenly mother will always be here, for you’re entitled to instructions.

we know his manhood's tiny... and id still cut the arms right of him; if he ever put a hand on you unprompted.

i warn you that the tunnels reek of illness and destruction.

i hope he gives you all you dream of because at the end of the day ye hath deserve it.

i seal this letter with a kiss and send you off and angels lift

their wings to take your sainthood and bless you with their crown.

one more thing you should know, the crows told me your rainbow aura’s looking brown regina george.

Thoths sandy crown is now my cross to split and bear and disperse upon ye. jesus was the mushroom you hurled.

Sleep tight and dont let the bedbugs bite. You'll meet the Giant in the White Lodge where the owls gorge the flesh of THE ARM 🎖🍸🪖👽🏔☮️🕊 Y LA ZEITGEIST!

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uncertain3teeth · 9 months

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i feel so good rn like i feel happy which is rare damn i thought this situation wld fuck me up but honestly its your lost though props to cutting me off though you constantly saying yes to me when i always ask "is it ok to vent" and you'd kept saying yes like i asked you multiple times so no i didnt treat you like a doormat you literally digged your own grave and let it happen to yourself like im sorry but i gave you chances to say no of me venting so like pftt its not my fault like im sorry i hurting your feelings like i had bpd episodes together with you and you never take the shit i say personal bc you know im not rational but THIS situation of all things is different like what like dont be friends with mentally ill ppl if you are gonna act like that like im allowed to have episodes and honestly therapy friend doesnt exist if you are best friends because you are suppose to at least be somewhat there for eachother like ok fake like im allowed to show symptoms and for some reason this situation is SOOOO different from the other episoedes i have for some reason like i gave you so many chances to speak up but you pissed it away just like this friendship honestly im glad this happened bc if you act like that then forget you lmaoo though thank you for the necklace btw /gen i will say that it was very thoughtful of you i did rlly love you ya know but damn its been fun gotta say and i did take accountability bc i did know what i did wrong but the more i think abt it the more you literally dug your own grave im sorry but sheesh i mean you trying to cut off me actaually hurted bc i tried to talk after you said what you had to say but you didnt hear me out thatbhurted honestly so now i hope you hurt the same way you made me hurt its just fair i mean im sorry to say that but you did this to yourself i gave you so many chances to let you speak up but nope like how am i treating you like a doormat when you make doormat decisons like if you had something to say say it already jesus like didnt we have a talk abt this already like do you want me to get on my knees and bow down to you saying im sorry for having bpd like bruv im trying lmaoo

#bpd #bpd vent #actually bpd #bpd rant #borderline personality disorder #toxic friends #live love laugh

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theglitterypages · 3 years

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Title: Dirty Mind

Pairings: Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader

Summary: Levi came home just to hear something unpleasant.

Warnings: A little bit of 18+ scenes.

Word count: 900+

Unedited, typographical and grammatical errors ahead.

*****

To say that Levi is tired is understatement, every muscle in his body is sore, his back aches and his eyes are damn tired because of all of the paper works that he had to take care of in his office.

Now, he has to see you so he could finally lay beside you and rest but as he climb the staircase, he heard your voice. It was not that loud at first but every step he took, your voice gets louder and louder.

“Shit! That's good! Let me try that!”

His mouth gaped open, “What the hell?” he muttered as he walked faster.

The moment he stopped in front of your room he pressed his ears against the door.

“Eren! Why can't you do it?!”

“It doesn't fit!”

“Lick it first duh!”

Levi's chest tightened. There's no way you would do that to him, there's just no way you'd do it with Eren.

His whole existence was trembling, you are the best thing that happened in his life, the one who made him feel loved, the woman who stayed even though how hard it is and now, this happened and the fact that you're cheating on him with Eren, on your own bed, it was all fucked up.

He wasted no time and kicked the door down and he was frozen to see you and Eren.

“Oh, Captain.”

“Love, why did you kick the door down? You could've just knock.” you blinked.

Levi pulled Eren by his collar and pushed him against the wall, your eyes widened and you immediately tried separating the two but Levi wouldn't be called the humanity's strongest soldier if he isn't one.

“How dare you lay your hands on my woman, you brat!”

“What?! I don't know what you're talking about, Captain!”

“Levi! Let him go!” you pushed him forcefully and Levi's chest rose and fell as he breathes heavily, he raked his fingers in his jet black hair as he stared at you. his gray eyes shone as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

”I love you so damn much and this is what I would get Y/N?”

“Well, I know it's not much, I'm sorry if you don't like hand sewn scarf. I had to ask some help from Eren because I'm not an expert,” you looked at him as you nervously played with your fingers, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you met his intimidating gaze “But...seeing how you reacted you probably don't like it. Don't worry, maybe I'll just give this to Commander Erwin since his birthday is coming." Levi's jaw almost dropped on the floor when he heard your trembling voice.

“You sew a scarf for me?"

“Yeah, I thought you'll be home late so I asked Eren to come over and—”

He cut you off by pressing his lips on yours, your eyes widened when he pulled you close to him, you almost kiss him back if Eren didn't clear his throat, reminding you and Levi that he's still there.

“You won't make me clean the toilet again right, Captain? I just helped your wife!”

”Tch, fine. Off you go. Lock the main door.”

Eren happily exited the room, he's gonna brag to Connie once he saw him, that bald guy would be the one to clean shits today.

“You ruined our door.” you pouted as you encircled your arms around his neck. Levi shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

“I thought you were doing it with Eren, what was the lick thing all about? You sound erotic earlier and you're expecting me to act all cool?”

“He's just so good at sewing, I'm genuinely offended as a woman. Eren's not good at threading a needle, I told him it'd be best to lick the thread and make it stiff.”

Levi looked at you in disbelief, damn. He hates filthy things yet he couldn't clean his own mind. He wanted to slap himself for acting like an idiot earlier.

“You're humanity's cleanliest soldier with a dirty mind.”

“Wanna show me how dirty it really is?” he smirked as he lifted you up before laying you down on the bed gently, he positioned himself on top of you and his lips latched onto your neck.

You arched your back with a moan while Levi smirked against your skin, he was about to take you clothes off of you but someone interrupted him.

“I LEFT MY—OH MY GOD! IM SORRY CAPTAIN! KEEP ON GOING!”

Eren's voice faded with his footsteps and you laughed loudly when you see the annoyed look on Levi's face, if there's something that Levi loathes other than dirt and messy surroundings, he hates getting interrupted when he's having his private time with you and Eren accidentally dug his own grave for interrupting Levi.

“Stay here, I'll have to kick that brat's ass.”

He tried standing up but you held him tightly. ”I can't wait anymore captain, I've been waiting for you since forever.” you whispered seductively, Levi's gray eyes dilated with desire, it turned a shade darker as he leaned down to kiss you quickly.

“You wouldn't be able to walk for days after this, brat.”

#levi ackerman fanfiction #levi attack on titan #levi aot #levi x reader #captain levi #levi x y/n #levi x you #eren yaegar #attack on titan #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #aot x you #levi ackerman #fanfic #fanfiction

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jangofctts · 4 years

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Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

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