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weepingvoidpenguin · 3 years

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Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to.

Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face.

You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

Scum. All of them.

You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

“Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

“When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

“I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them.

Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

“Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled.

“There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

Like a moth to a flame.

“How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine.

A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line.

Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,”

Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here.

Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you.

The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business.

“Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup.

Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse.

Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose.

You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out.

Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you.

This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

“Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though.

You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features.

“You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

“Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

“Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

“I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

“I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short.

It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone.

You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop.

You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited.

You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped.

“You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it.

You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,”

“You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

“Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

“Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

“Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

“Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself.

“Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

“You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute.

“Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail.

He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness.

Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

“No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

“No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation.

You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

“No,”

“Yes,”

Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark.

“I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,”

You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

“What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Couldn’t,”

A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

“Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

“I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

“Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

“Yes,”

“Then what?”

“I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

“Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It doesn’t,”

“Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee.

“Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

“I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

“I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

“I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

“Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

“Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

“Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

Then his lips crashed against yours.

You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you.

“So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning.

You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

“Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily.

Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands.

The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him.

You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts.

His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

“I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

The light went off.

You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,”

Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,”

He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

“Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

“Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line.

Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

“Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God.

“Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

“Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area.

Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face.

A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

“Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

“That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

“But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t.

“Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears.

He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard.

He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold.

At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

“Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

You nodded again.

“I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

“This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

“Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

“Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

“Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself.

So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

“There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

“Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time.

You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body.

“Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy.

He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him.

He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

“What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core.

“What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

“Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

“Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

“Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

“What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

“’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

“Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

“Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

“Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?”

He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

“Then cum,”

He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind.

“Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him.

You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word.

And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

“Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

“Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course.

After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

“I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after.

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whorkn33 · 2 years

Text

blanket ghost breakdown

genre: angst words: 3139 warnings: mentions of death, being told to die, severe illness, vague themes of issues with abandonment and helplessness summary: Komaeda has the despair disease, and suddenly it's like he's not the same person. You're just trying to help, to keep him in bed and watch over him in case his condition tanks again, but he seems dead set on making that as difficult for you as possible. a/n: i wrote this on a bad day where i just wanted to get what i was feeling out of my brain, so here it is lol. im fine btw, just needed an outlet and decided to post it bc i like the final product

☆~☆

You’re exhausted. You haven’t slept in two days now, mostly out of worry, but partially because he won’t shut up.

Komaeda is laying in his hospital bed, rambling on and on about how much he just fucking hates you, about how he thinks you’re a worthless piece of shit and he wishes you died instead of anyone else. He’s cackling in between his words, talking so much he’s constantly out of breath.

He isn’t even looking at you anymore, tossing his head side to side as he giggles manically to himself. Every so often he’ll get a burst of energy and thrash about, screaming at you until his throat is raw to just leave him alone, get your ugly face out of his room before he vomits on his bedsheets.

You know logically he doesn’t mean any of it - that’s the nature of the despair disease, after all. But it still hurts. Komaeda had always treated you with nothing short of respect, even when you had your more clumsy moments. He had a weird, messed up way of communicating it, but you knew he cared for and respected you just as much as anyone else on the island.

Even after his breakdown during the first trial, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him. You wanted to believe he was just scared, like everyone else, and acting out because of it. You knew the others judged you for it, and you couldn’t exactly blame them. He’d done some pretty messed up shit.

Maybe you were just too empathetic. Or maybe Komaeda was just pretty enough for you to willingly put on a pair of rose-colored glasses.

Whatever your motivation, selfish or not, it landed you here. You’d been stationed with Komaeda, since you were the only one who could stand being around him for longer than two minutes, and your job was to make sure he didn’t do anything to hurt himself or anyone else, and call Tsumiki if his condition worsened.

You gave this job to yourself willingly, and while you don’t necessarily regret it, your patience is certainly beginning to wear thin.

You sat on a cool metal chair next to his bed and watched his lips form all the venomous words he spat at you, his face red and sweaty from his ridiculously high fever. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and though he usually seemed to be a bit colder than you, now you could feel the heat emanating from his body.

You knew he must have felt horrible. You had to try four times before he would finally drink some water, and even then he kept a bit in his mouth to spit at you. But the look of relief on his face when he felt the cool glass against his burning skin and sipped told you everything.

You kept a glass of water on the small table beside his hospital bed now, along with a blood pressure cuff he had nearly thrown at Tsumiki last time she tried to use it. You’d just barely managed to wrench it out of his sweaty hands - for how skinny he is, you didn’t expect his grip to be that strong, especially while sick.

He coughs suddenly, a rough and scratchy sound that erupts from deep within his chest. His brow furrows and his eyes squeeze shut, his whole face twisting into a pained expression that makes your heart ache. You stand and move behind him to rub his back until it passes; it’s the only time you can touch him without him trying to shove you away.

The moment he can draw a breath again, he’s back to talking. Back to insulting you, your talent, your friends, your entire existence. You sit back down in your chair and watch him lay back, fidgeting with the edge of the thin hospital blanket you’d thrown over him.

Tuning out his insults, you remember how scared you were when Komaeda collapsed in the restaurant. He’d let out such a choked noise, gasping for breath like he was being strangled, and his head collided with the hard wood floor before you could catch him. You remembered the panic that settled in your chest while you ran behind Hinata towards the hospital. That panic had simmered down over time, as you sat by Komaeda’s side, waiting for him to wake up. Eventually it pooled into your stomach, having concentrated itself into a feeling you could only describe as dread.

There was a scare for a moment, where you left for a drink and returned to find he had stopped breathing. You had helplessly pressed down on his chest, your knowledge of CPR very limited, as you screamed for someone, anyone to come help.

And then a few hours later, he opened his eyes, and for the first time in over 24 hours you felt hope.

It lit up your chest as you watched his eyelids flutter open, his pupils darting around the room for a moment before they landed on you. As you locked gazes, that hope died when you caught the look in his eye, unlike anything you’d seen from him before. It was like the boy you met on the beach that day had vanished, replaced by a stranger. His eyes were dark swirls of emotions you couldn’t place, unfolding onto each other and mixing into a whole new person. And then he had cackled at you, maybe your expression gave away your agony, but he saw it and he could do nothing but laugh.

“Hey! Aren’t you listening?!” He snaps you out of your reminiscing, and you realize you’ve been crying. You turn your head so he won’t see you wipe away the tears, but he’s smart even when he’s sick, so he catches on. Laughter bubbles up out of him. “You’re crying?! Seriously?! That’s pathetic! Weeping into your hands like a child who got their candy stolen!”

You rest your elbows on your knees and hide your face with your palms, covering your tired eyes so the sunlight pouring through the window doesn’t hurt as much. He only cackles louder, and you’re sure everyone on this floor of the building can hear it, but can’t bring yourself to care. If you have to hear him berate you like this, if you have to be kept awake by his never ending babbling, maybe everyone else should be too.

‘That’s not fair.’ You think to yourself. ‘You’re just cranky from lack of sleep and this headache you’ve got, don’t take it out on the others.’

Suddenly, it’s strangely silent, and your eyes snap up to him frantically. His eyes have slid shut, his chest rising and falling in time with his breathing, and you sigh in relief. He’s been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last few hours now, probably exhausting himself with all the fucking talking he’s been doing. You repress the urge to sigh, afraid that even the slightest noise could wake him.

You stare at his unconscious body and feel tears pricking your eyes again. You don’t fight them, letting them slip down your cheeks freely. You hadn’t had a moment’s sleep since this all began, and it’s weighing on you now, making you more irritable and emotional. You’ve had a headache for hours now that no over the counter painkiller could help.

Kuzuryu had brought you several drinks from the vending machine, so you would actually drink something - after the last time, you refused to leave him alone for even a moment, waiting until Tsumiki came in to check his vitals to use the restroom. You tuck a bottle of water under your shirt and open it very slowly and carefully, the fabric muffling any little sounds it makes. You take a drink and set it down on the floor beside you.

The room is a little chilly, but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest, letting your head fall back to stare at the ceiling. You kept the lights in the room off until the sun went down in an attempt to stop the pain in your eyes, but it didn’t do much. At least you didn’t have to deal with the constant buzzing of the fluorescents. The only sound in the room was Komaeda’s breathing and your own. Without thinking, you hold your breath for a split second to sync your breaths with his. You don’t even realize you’re doing it at first, and when you do notice, you’re a bit embarrassed despite nobody being around to witness it.

You’re always a bit embarrassed around Komaeda. It’s stupid, really, considering no matter what you did you’re pretty sure he’d still sing your praises unconditionally, but you’re still nervous around him. At first, you were sure it was just because of his breakdown, but as time went on and you continued hanging around him, you slowly realized it was just his presence that made your stomach flutter.

You pretended you didn’t know what it meant - now wasn’t the time for those feelings, not when lives were at stake. It was easier to accept your unease than to confront it head-on. Not the healthiest option, but certainly the easiest.

You hear a loud crash and it startles you out of your thoughts, your body lurching forward. Komaeda is on the ground next to the bed, having knocked over the small table next to his bed, sending the glass of water and the blood pressure cuff scattering across the floor. He pushes himself onto his hands and knees, grinning wildly and letting out a wheezy noise through his teeth. You notice the sun is much lower in the sky now, bathing the room in a golden light. You must have dozed off in your chair. That explains the ache in your back.

You get out of your chair and reach out to help him up, and he smacks your hands while he leans away from you, letting out a displeased grunt that you choose to ignore. You have to hook your elbows under his armpits and hoist him up from behind so you can get him back on the bed. He tries to steady his legs underneath his body, but they shake so hard it nearly throws both of you off balance.

“Fucking filthy,” Komaeda pants, clawing at the collar of his hospital gown as he lets out a wheezy, unhinged giggle that shakes his entire body. “You’re so fucking filthy, your hands have tainted me, I think I’m gonna be sick!” You ignore him, fluffing his pillow and flipping it over to the cool side before grabbing the thin hospital blanket and dragging it over him. The moment you let go, he grabs the blanket and flings it over you, and it drapes over your body and pools at your feet, turning you into a ghost before his eyes.

The sunlight can’t reach you under here, and the ache in your skull begins to subside a bit, despite his continued wheezing, babbling, and you have no choice now but to listen. He’s telling you how much he hates you, how disappointed he is in you, how he’s utterly disgusted by your presence. He laughs again and it rolls into a harsh cough. It sounds painful.

He doesn’t mean it.

“You look much prettier under there! Stay there! Don’t take it off, I might just leap out the window to get away!”

He doesn’t mean it.

“I can’t-” He burst into another fit of giggles. “I can’t believe how stupid you are! Don’t you get it?! I don’t want you here! Nobody does!”

He doesn’t mean it.

“I…” A wheeze, a cough, he’s out of breath again but he can’t silence himself long enough to fill his lungs properly. “... I hate you. I hate you so much. I wish you would just-”

Your legs wobble for a moment before you collapse to your knees on the cool tile floor. The blanket pools further around you, its warmth and weight completely enveloping your body. You’re reminded of being a child again, wandering through the house with a blanket over your head and pretending to be some kind of spooky spectre. You would bump into walls without fail every single time.

Your shoulders shake and you hold your breath to avoid sobbing, afraid of what he might say if he hears. Tears spill, but they’re hidden now. The only thing giving you away is how hard you’re trembling.

“You’re crying again?” He laughs. “At least your face is covered so I don’t have to see your pathetic face, even if your tears are soiling my blanket.”

“Shut up.” You whimper through your tears, and it sounds just as pathetic as you feel. You take a deep breath, hearing him shift around on the bed. He sounds a bit closer when he finally replies with a simple “Huh?”

“I said, shut up, Komaeda.” Your voice comes out more forceful this time, and you grip the blanket pooled on the floor around you until you’re sure your knuckles turn white. “Just shut up. Quit talking. For five minutes, please, for the love of god. I can’t…” Your voice shakes, throat tightens, and the tears start coming faster.

“Can’t what? Can’t stand to be away from me?” His tone is bitter, sarcastic, patronizing, but a sob finally escapes as you choke out a ‘Yes’ through your tears. You gasp for breath, and suddenly the dam breaks.

“When you were asleep, you quit breathing, and Komaeda I was fucking scared. I know you think everyone hates you, and some of them do, but-” You sniff, your nose is stuffy and your face is so damp with tears you’re starting to feel gross. “-but some of us actually don’t, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I thought you were going to die and I sobbed over you and I begged you to breathe again.”

He’s silent, but even if he wasn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself and listen. It spills out of you like a waterfall and you don’t have the energy to force it to stop.

“I stayed, I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten, I watched you this whole time because I can’t be away from you or else you’ll die.” You bring your hands to your face and double over, your hands the only thing separating your face from the floor. “I can’t let you die. I can’t, I won’t. But ever since you woke up, you look at me like- you don’t even look like you anymore!”

You swallow thickly. “Y-you don’t look like you, you don’t talk like you, it’s like you’re already gone. It’s like you already left.”

You’re surprised you managed to hold it together this long. You made it through two murders and two executions, watching your classmates drop like flies around you. You made it through night after night, laying in bed waiting for the next body discovery announcement. Waiting for the next motive. Waiting for a scream to rip through the quiet nighttime air, waiting to guess whose voice it was.

A barely audible squeak leaves your throat, a half-hearted attempt at continuing your rambling, but your lips can’t form the words. You press your palms over your ears, prepared to shut out another wave of harassment. You can’t handle another insult, you can’t handle hearing about how everyone hates you, about how you should be the next to die. It doesn’t matter that it’s a lie, because it’s coming from him. A boy you felt for. A boy you kept an eye on. A boy you were scared for, scared of losing.

Why did the thought of losing him hurt you more than it would - or had - for any of your other classmates?

The question echoes in your brain like a gunshot. You gasp between sobs, unable to form a coherent thought, much less answer such a loaded question. You just sat on the floor, stifling any noise as much as you could, wrapping your arms around yourself and squeezing your eyes shut, wanting to bury yourself in the thin white blanket until you disappeared into the fabric.

It takes you a good few minutes to collect yourself. When you yank the blanket off your head, your face is still stained with tears, eyes still red and puffy, breath still shaking with each inhale. Komaeda is on the floor next to you (you aren’t sure when he did that), his head hanging low between his shoulder blades, his breathing soft and steady. He’s asleep again, you think. That should make this easier.

You use the edge of the blanket to dry your cheeks, taking a deep breath before pushing yourself up off the ground. You toss the blanket over your chair and situate yourself behind Komaeda, once again hooking your elbows under his armpits and lifting him back onto the bed with a grunt. He stirs the moment you touch him, but you have him back on the bed before he can truly wake up. You toss the blanket over him, tucking it in at the sides as his tired eyes drift open and shut.

You’re about to return to your chair when a warm hand wraps around your wrist.

He looks up at you and his grin is gone, his face mostly relaxed save for a twinge in his brow. And there, for a split second, as you stand over him and mentally prepare yourself for another insult, you see it. It’s tiny, it’s fleeting, but you catch a glimpse of the boy you just got done crying over. He’s not gone forever - when he recovers, he’ll come back to you, and knowing him you’ll be enveloped in his arms. He’ll wrap his coat around your entire body and hide you away in his silhouette, spewing a constant stream of apologies, ways to make up for the things he said even if he doesn’t remember them. Something tells you he’ll remember this moment, your puffy red eyes staring down at him with a look that probably conveyed the unease and slight fear you were feeling towards him.

You sit on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, his eyes drifting shut a moment later. His long fingers hold you close to him, and you watch his chest rise and fall with his calm, sleepy breathing.

You watch over him silently as the sun finally dips below the horizon. His silence, despite his consciousness, tells you everything.

Maybe he actually gives a shit about you beyond your talent.

Or maybe he just went quiet because you told him to shut up. He’s pretty good at that.

#nagito komaeda #nagito komaeda x reader #angst #danganronpa #sdr2 #despair disease #gender neutral reader

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hmmdelicioussoup · 3 years

Text

So I just finished The Lost Book of the White and I really want to talk about Simon.

I’d tried reading this book sometime last year but didn’t really get into. Then after listening to the TMI audiobooks and TFSA I was motivated to try again since I knew it took place after Simon lost George. Second time round I absolutely loved it, Malec, baby Max, Magnus x Ragnor x Catarina friendship, all so good. But Sizzy! My god so so good. Getting to see them finally be together as a couple honestly made me so happy. But despite the happy moments, it’s also occurring during a time when Simon is grieving, and that grief is very fresh. TLBOTW takes place only 4 months after Angels Twice Descending.

So, throughout the whole book I was waiting for Simon to crack. From his first scene in the book it’s mentioned how different he seems.

Magnus says upon the TMI gang arriving at his apartment about Simon:

“…it was obvious [Simon] wasn’t doing well” pg 36

From the start I was strapping myself in for some pain. Even just a couple of pages later Magnus notes that Simon is acting ‘very unlike himself’ pg 39.

Simon has gone through a lot, they all have, but I think it’s different for Simon. Just on the basis that he kind of got dragged into the shadow world. He wasn’t raised in it like Jace, Alec, and Isabelle. It wasn’t his birthright to be a part of it like Clary. He’s had to fight stay beside Clary, to earn the respect of the Shadowhunters who even though they would eventually become his friends, didn’t think much, if anything of him, when they first met him. He had to really fight to show he was worthy of their respect. And he did. He fought beside them, lost beside them, sacrificed himself for them and all the while maintain his morals. I’m not saying he never changed, on the contrary, he developed significantly throughout the series and throughout it all always managed to be the optimistic one. Magnus says of him,

“Through all of it, Magnus had grown impressed with his morale, his willingness to persevere and keep a brave face even when the situation seemed worse than impossible” pg 40

Even knowing all Simon has been through, even Magnus who kind of seemed the least invested in Simon during TMI, expects him to have the same attitude he has always had. They’ve legit been to hell twice now and all seem pretty chill about it. They’re all making jokes, Magnus and Alec get it on basically every time they’re alone lol. I think they feel almost invulnerable. There’s very much this energy of well we’ve survived one hell dimension before, surely we can survive another. But they seem to be forgetting that they very nearly almost didn’t survive Edom. They only got out because of Simon. And I think Simon is painfully aware of this. He’s not one to brag about saving them but he understands maybe better than anyone the risk of having to make sacrifices.

Simon’s truly at his tipping point throughout TLBOTW. Despite all he went through in TMI, mainly with him losing half his memories and as a result losing important pieces of himself, he’s able to find himself again throughout TFSA or at the very least gain some idea of the type of Shadowhunter and person he wants to be. But then he loses George, once again he’s faced with unbearable loss. One as well that didn’t come from noble sacrifice or dying in battle protecting the people you love. George died drinking from the mortal cup and even though he was a good person, even though he was more than worthy, more worthy than Simon according to him, the cup didn’t want him.

“[George] was no different to me. No less worthy of Ascension. If anything, he was more worthy than me.” pg. 283

So when they all travel to Diyu and Simon is taken and tortured by Sammael, and Magnus has been stabbed by Svefnthorn and Isabelle gives herself up to demons, it’s all just reinforcing Simon’s worries about loss and how easy it is to lose what you love. Honestly I am so glad to have content where Simon is appreciated and allowed to show how much he cares and be more than just comic relief.

When they are in the Cathedral and Simons calm finally wavers I was so keen for it. And boi was I not disappointed. We get to really see how Simon is coping, how the loss that made him stronger is now what’s making him fall apart. Everyone else is so shocked and confused by his reaction:

“[Clary] looked wary…“This isn’t like you,”” pg. 282

“….“This isn’t even your first trip to a hell dimension,” Jace pointed out” pg. 282

It really shows how no one expected Simon of all people to be the one to break. It gives the others the chance to crumble a bit too. Isabelle who has always been very noble, always ready to fight, doesn’t know how to answer Simon when he asks how they all keep risking their and their loved ones lives. Before this book we never really got to see how they coped with the trauma they gained from TMI. We saw them in TDA but that was about four (I think?) years later, in the midst of someone else’s story and another fight. (As someone who very much prefers character over plot being able to read moments like this with some of my all time favourite characters really is my favourite thing. Like yes it’s sad as hell but oh isn’t it the best kind?)

Simon needs this moment. They all do. The desperation in Simon’s voice, everyone else’s inability to give him an answer. Because he has a point.

“How do you risk yourself and everyone you love, over and over again?” pg. 284

The Shadowhunter motto is just as much ‘we often die young’, as it is ‘facilus descensus averno’ and George’s death made this painfully clear to Simon. I think that Simon is definitely prepared to risk his own life, we’ve seen him do so many times before, but it’s the risk to the lives of the people he loves that he cannot deal with. The others kind of accept it, they definitely don’t love the idea of it but they know it’s a dangerous job. Both Jace and Alec literally say so.

It’s a moment that makes everyone grateful for their love.

- Clary tells Simon and Isabelle she loves them.

- Jace wraps his arms around her ‘drawing her close’.

- Alec reflects on the choice to love someone.

Writing this is really making me realise that maybe that’s what the whole story is about. Love. They’ve all found their epic loves, their families, they should all be happy. And they are, you don’t go through what they went through and not come out of it happy to still have the people you care about. But with the presence of love now it’s apparent, especially for Simon, that fear of losing it. And while it’s a hard thing to cope with, as Alec and Simon put it:

“That’s being a Shadowhunter,” said Alec.

Simon shook his head, “No, that’s being a person,”

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disenchantedif · 3 years

Note

Either 27 (fluff) or 17 (general) for Cameron? Whichever you think fits best, sorry I couldn't choose lol.

"Are you blushing?" and "Are you jealous?" for Cameron.

Early relationship and M!Cameron. Also, AU where MC's university experience doesn't immediately go to shit.

This probably got way too long so I broke it up some, read the rest under the cut.

The university cafeteria is packed as always. You're certain it looks the same as most like it around the country except this one...well, one table is full of Nephilim lounging with their wings out and another has Basilisks partaking in a venom shooting competition.

Maybe it's a bit unique.

You're sat in the back corner with your laptop propped open, a document on magical politics open on one side of the screen. Your homework for Advanced Lightning Manipulation occupies the other side, though it's more doodles than any actual work so far.

You absentmindedly begin to pick at your sandwich when-

"Hells!" You jump, feeling a hand on your shoulder.

You twist around to see none other than Cameron with his hands up in surrender, smiling sheepishly. You also notice that all eyes are now on your previously secluded corner, and the whispers are already beginning.

They say kids are vicious, and you can attest to that better than anyone. Everybody always fails to mention that a shit ton of young adults crammed into a cafeteria can feel like facing down a pack of hyenas, though. They thrive on gossip, and what's juicier than a fling between the Chosen One and the Unchosen One?

Nothing. Nothing is the answer. Or it appears to be, at least, when every pair of eyes follow you both around every corner. You had just started to fade into obscurity, then Cameron had to come along and fuck it all up.

Again.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He says, keeping his voice down and out of range of prying ears.

"I wasn't scared." You huff, pushing your plate away.

You had already lost your appetite.

"It's no good?" His nose scrunches sympathetically as he sits beside you, "If you want, we can go grab dinner-"

"I don't have any money." You interrupt him, "Besides, it's fine. I'll take it back to my dorm."

"It probably tastes like cardboard." He jokes, but you see the way his eyes dart around, making sure no one approaches.

"Maybe, but it's food." You shrug, "I need to finish this anyway."

You nod at your assignment and his eyes light up when he recognizes it, "For Professor Karlin's class, right? I'm in another section of it, and the assignment is super easy. I can help if you want?"

You almost snap, say no and tell him to get lost. It's your gut instinct when it comes to Cameron; just get him to leave you the hell alone. Except you don't really want that anymore.

Which is the absolute weirdest feeling ever, to want Cameron Fletcher around. Theo would be laughing his ass off at you right now, and you're sure Viktor would give you his patented disappointed eyebrows.

"If you want." You say instead, still stiff but slowly relaxing as people grow bored of your apparently normal conversation.

If they wanted to see you throw a glass of Sprite in Cameron's face, they're about six months too late.

He twiddles his thumbs for a bit as you work, occasionally piping up in assistance, but his nervous energy is overwhelming.

"Is there something you're wanting to talk about?" You say, pretending to be uninterested as you read the same question five times over to look busy.

"Oh." He startles, "Um. Yes, actually."

It's silent for a moment, so you continue to prompt him, "About?"

"Um, this weekend." He glances down at his hands, "A bunch of the freshmen are going to Inferno."

You know Inferno well. Every supernatural person with even a slight social life in New York knows Inferno well. It's the only club around town that's hidden from mortal eyes; you have to be supernatural to get in...and twenty-one.

"Most of them aren't even old enough." You say, "They get fakes?"

"Yeah. Apparently, Theo knows someone." His face sours as he says his name, "That's actually what I wanted to ask you about."

"What? Inferno?" You raise an eyebrow, "I'm not going, if that's what you're wondering."

He gets what you're saying without you having to actually say it. You might enjoy parties or clubbing, getting a fake ID, living it up with friends.

You'll never know, though.

Your presence is like a sedative to any social gathering you attend. Usually, things just end up awkward and you leave early to go home and cry in the shower. At worst, someone mentions your reputation that so often proceeds you and you have to beat off a panic attack with a stick.

"I know." He says quickly, "I'm not asking you to go. I was actually going to suggest a movie night."

"Movie night?" You say, more than a little shocked, "You're that nervous about suggesting a movie night?"

"No." He twists the edge of his shirt between his hands and you almost feel sorry for the cotton, "I was going to ask if anyone else asked you to go?"

You blink at him, incredulous for a moment, "Cam, who the hell would ever ask me out?"

He frowns momentarily, "Off-topic, but you're a catch."

"I'm a walking bad luck charm." You scoff, "The question remains."

"I overheard Theo and Penelope talking in Alchemy." He explains, "Apparently they were both going to ask you to go."

His face lights up like a stoplight, the dark flush hard to spot against his tan but certainly there.

"Are you blushing?" You ask, eyes wide, "Cameron-"

"I just wanted to know if they did ask you." He frowns.

"They know we're...a thing." You say, unable to call it dating, "They knew you were listening and wanted to fuck with you."

His mouth drops open slightly before he closes it, lips pursed. He doesn't say anything for a moment, leading you to draw your own conclusions.

"Hold on, are you jealous?" You question, "Why would you be jealous?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He responds, catching you off guard, "Barely a year ago you couldn't tolerate me and everyone thought you and Theo were already dating."

"So?" You ask, "I never dated Theo. I've never wanted to date Theo. And, don't get me wrong, Penelope is gorgeous-"

"You're not helping."

"Like, drop-dead stunning-"

"Now you're just being an asshole."

"I would totally let her step on me kind of hot-"

Cameron groans and you finally take mercy on him.

"But she hasn't asked me either." You confirm, "As of now, I have movie plans with this annoying kid I used to go to school with."

He smiles hesitantly, "If they did ask you, would you rather go with one of them? I mean, I guess I'd understand."

Your brows furrow, studying the weight of the words before you respond, "If I wanted to be with someone else, I would. I want to be with you, though, so that's where I am."

He grins now, a full-on beam of sunshine glowing on his face, "I want to be with you, too."

"I hope so." You say, "I spent a lot of time convincing Viktor and Theo not to break your kneecaps. I'd hate to have that hard work go to waste."

He just sighs in response.

#disenchantedif #cameron fletcher #short story

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 3 years

Text

The idea of Moon and Monty becoming genuine friends is really cool to me, because they are so incredibly different. It would be so interesting!! One being coded to be a hot head, rock and roll bad boy esque character with a temper and the other being an animatronic meant to put children to sleep, strict, and soft spoken. There’s so much that could be done with their friendship! If I get better at drawing Monty I definitely want to elaborate on it with some doodles lol.

I like to think that Monty knew Moon before the virus incident, and met him when Moon had wandered into rockstar row. I like this idea far better then previous ones, honestly, because it makes a lot of sense. Moon follows the rules of course, but passing by the entrance every night the temptation was there. He knows he isn’t aloud back in rockstar row, but... it’s not like anyone is around to see him, right? And besides, if he uses the wire he can go in and out quickly without getting noticed by the other animatronics either, so it’s a win win!

Though he almost immediately regrets it when he gets bombarded with bright neon lights the moment he enters. Still, they aren’t everywhere, and his curiosity was not entirely detered by the light as it had been in the past. Call it stupidity or wanting to talk to someone other then his brother. Still though, the lights would be a problem, so he snuck into the closest room to get away from the majority of the neon lights and ended up stumbling right into Monty’s room... while he was in a rage.

Now Moon has dealt with deescalating situations before with children, but clearly it is far different with an eight foot tall gator. Still, his programming immediately kicked in and registered it as “throwing a tantrum” and responded accordingly. For his part, Monty wasn’t very pleased to see this little jester come into his room, and expected him to leave when he saw what Monty was doing. Instead, he folded his hands infront of him casually and with his low, soft voice told Monty that he was acting foul and destroying company property, which immediately pissed Monty off. He told Moon that it was his room, and he can break shit if he wants to, and then threw the table he had been holding at him. Moon jumped above it with ease, much to the astonishment of the gator. He tried a bit of a different approach, trying to talk to the gator about what was causing him this stress. He knew that he wouldn’t like being talked to like a child, so he used some of the lines he had been programmed to use on the older children who were rowdier and harder to please. Stuff like “Is there something bothering you?”, “You don’t have to tell me if you wouldn’t like to, though it may make you feel better.”, “You’re heating up, maybe you should turn on your internal fans...” all the while Monty continously tried to push him out, throw things at him, etc only for him to dodge with ease and continue. Eventually doing this burned off enough energy for him to stop trying to attack him, and really realize what was going on.

Monty heard from the kids about the daycare attendant, but barely. So when he finally stopped raging, it dawned on him that he had never seen Moon before. He was annoyed by the robot, but a bit impressed that he had managed to survive one of Monty’s episodes. Everyone usually avoids him, rightfully so, when he gets destructive, but this bot was either too naive to do that or just didn’t care. Not to mention how quiet he was: from what he had heard, Sun was quite energetic, and yelled constantly. He didn’t expect for Moon to be so soft spoken. Moon wasn’t sure he would be able to successfully calm down Monty, either, and seeing the band member up close he couldn’t help but feel a bit excited. Sun was definitely more into the band then he was, but it doesn’t mean that he didn’t hold the other bots as some sort of celebrity. So when Monty calmed down, Moon could barely contain how happy it made him.

... Until he noticed how much of a mess the room was, and his programming kicked into high gear as he darted around the room, picking up broken pieces of furniture, straightening the decorations hanging on the walls, fixing what he could along the way. The sudden change of pace was jarring to Monty, and he was a bit annoyed to be honest. It’s his room, he doesn’t need any help cleaning it up. Not that he wasn’t doing a damn good job at it, he noted somewhat begrudginly. But he is probably used to cleaning up messes, being in the daycare. He decided to try and help, even if just to ease the awkwardness of the situation, and asked for his name. He replied “Moon, and your Monty, right?” and quickly elaborated when the gator gave him a suspicious look.

He explained that the children talked about them all the time, and the show they would put on. Discussing it made Moon a bit more nervous, as it almost felt like he had been doing something wrong by gathering this intel from the children instead of the gator himself. But Monty brushed it off, unbothered by the obvious idea that the children would tell the daycare attendant about the show. That’s just how kids are, and he is pretty awesome. But this brought on the next question, which was why he hadn’t seen him or Sun around before.

Moons disposition changed immediately, as it once again dawned on him that “oh right, I’m breaking the rules being here”. He checked the clock and, yup, the lights were back on in the building meaning his patrol time was supposed to be over. When Monty saw this sudden change in behavior, he raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, which after another moment or so Moon reluctantly gave. He explained that he isn’t supposed to be here right now, but got curious and wanted to explore. That Sun wasn’t allowed outside of the daycare, and Moon could explore within a certain range as long as the lights were off but had to go back at the end of his patrol. Monty laughed, much to the shock of Moon. “Dude, you don’t have to follow the rules when the building is closed.”

This idea was a shock to Moon. “Of course you do! The rules always apply, no matter who is there!” and Monty replied by rolling his eyes and stating “You are breaking the rules right now, aren’t you?” to which Moon sputtered indignantly in response. Monty laughed, quickly brushing it off by saying that it’s fine, and that he doesn’t really care and wouldn’t tell anyone. It only calmed down Moon a bit, which Monty noticed. Moon quickly excused himself, apologizing for coming into his room unannounced, and then walked off while Monty called out after him.

...He didn’t get very far, and immediately ran into something, cursing his stupid night vision. Monty stepped out of the room and laughed hysterically at the fact that Moon tripped over the rope fence right outside the door. Moon pulled his hat over his face out of embarrassment, and despite wanting to tease him about it Monty decided that now wasn’t the time and offered to walk him back to the daycare. Moon just appreciated that he didn’t ask why he was so blind: he didn’t want to explain his night vision on the first time meeting him. He was reluctant about accepting the gators assistance, but Monty pointed out that if the security guard found him out of his area alone it would look way more suspicious then if Monty was with him, and that he could just use the excuse that he had held back Moon because he needed help from him. Moon objected because then it would be pinning the blame on Monty, but Monty once again dismissed the concern stating that “They really don’t care where I go during the night, as long as I keep property destruction to the minimum.” Moon didn’t find it very funny, but agreed reluctantly to the offer.

While they walked, they asked each other questions and got to know each other. Moon rambled passionately about his brother, his job, the children, his brother again, Monty figured out very quickly that Moon REALLY loves his brother, and couldn’t help but find that sweet. Monty talked about the perfomances and Monty golf, finding out that Moon has never been to like half the pizza plex which felt wrong on so many levels. He doesn’t know where half the things in the place he LIVES are! He decided to address that with him later though, and when they finally got to the daycare Monty was fairly impressed by the size. It definitely wasn’t some cheap room with a box of toys that he was expecting, it was decked out. Moon thanked Monty for the assistance before heading down, and Moon made a note to come back later. As he walked away he heard the boisterous voice of Sun he could guess, the words clear as day as he walked out of the doors.

“YOU DID WHAT??”

#fnaf security breach #fnaf monty #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #moondrop #sundrop #sunrise #daycare attendant #I actually really like this writing #proud as hell of it

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

Could you write something where reader has a nightmare about port mafia Dazai going after her, when Dazai wakes up to her freaking out in her sleep he tries waking her up and when she does she still thinks she’s dreaming? Eventually she calms down but feels really bad picturing Dazai like that :(( angst to comfort

I'm back from the dead! I didn't use fem pronouns because I didn't have to, but since u requested it, the reader is fem .. I feel that this is more of a comfort fic if the reader is Dazai himself, lol.. Sorry it took so long..

Osamu Dazai x Fem! Reader||Warnings: violence, nightmare.|| Angst to comfort|| Word count: 1482.

Nightmare

You had known Dazai since his mafia days. You were a friend of Nakahara Chuuya, and had bumped into Dazai when the you and Chuuya were meeting up after your school. You knew that Chuuya was involved in gangs and probably violence, but he was your friend, and you trusted him.

"So, how was school?"

He asked you, hands in his pockets. It had been a few weeks since he had contacted you. He looked different, almost as if these past few weeks have scarred him. His clothes were more expensive. You could tell by their fancy look and glimmer. His jacket was probably genuine leather. He adorned a strange but cute hat too.

"It was okay. Where have you been?"

He glanced at you, raising a bow.

"You must have robbed a bank or something to afford that jacket. It looks really dope, by the way."

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze.

Sighing, he began talking as you two made your way to the park.

...

Sitting down on the swing, you gave the ground a light kick, enough to rock you slightly.

Chuuya sat on the swing adjacent to yours.

"So you joined the mafia. Interesting. "

He was confused as to why you weren't alarmed about his revelation.

"And you're okay with that?"

You shrugged.

"As long as you don't get me killed, or anyone I care about is hurt, I'm cool. Besides, you always find a way to fall into trouble. This isn't new."

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Great."

You heard shuffling behind you. Without turning back, you said,

"You can join us, you know. You don't have to keep hiding. You're doing a really bad job anyways."

"Who're you talking to?"

"The spy in the bushes."

Chuuya swiftly turns around, ready to attack, when Dazai peeps out of the green mesh.

"Dazai, what the hell are you doing here?!"

And that's how you had met your boyfriend. You had seen him in action a couple of times too. It scared you, but you were able to appreciate the human in him.

...

It was pitch black. You couldn't see a thing. Your hands were probably tied behind your back. You could feel the rough threads of the rope dig into your wrists. It hurt. You tried maneuvering your way out of the knots, only for them to grow tighter. Wincing at the pain, you tried to sit up. You were lying on the cold, hard floor of some abandoned building. Your captor was yet to reveal himself.

Pushing yourself up, you quickly got a hold over yourself. Trying to maintain balance, you tried your best to peer through the dark. Soon enough, your eyes adjusted, and you could see that you were in a small room. You could spot the door. Nothing sharp resided near you. You couldn't cut off the rope. Well, you just have to run out of here then. As you were about to reach the door, it flew open.

You gasped, taking a few steps back.

"Thought you could escape? How cute."

Dazai stood at the door. You felt relieved. Maybe he was here to help you! But the look on his face and the sneer at his lips said otherwise.

"Dazai! Thank God you're here. Help me out of these ropes-"

You were cut short as you were suddenly slammed into a wall. The impact and the sudden movement made you gasp.

Dazai stood in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly, and his knuckles had turned white from the pressure he was applying.

You were sure his fingers would break through the cloth of your shirt and draw blood from your shoulders.

One of his eyes was covered in bandages, while the other was glaring down at you. His entire aura was different.

No. Rather, it was something you hadn't sensed in a long time.

His long black trench coat hung loosely over his shoulders as he towered over your shaking form.

"In case I haven't made it clear; You're not getting out of here. Not alive, that is."

He threw you forcefully to the side. You banged into a wooden desk. The edge hit the right side of your torso. You winced in pain before dropping to the ground. You felt a kick on your stomach. Your entire body lurched forward at the impact.

"Hah! Stop! Please..."

Your words were futile. He kept carelessly plunging his hard boot into your torso. You were sure that you'd broken a few ribs. They had probably pierced your lungs. You could feel blood rise up your throat.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. what.. did I do..?"

You kept repeating these words, trying to get him to stop. Somewhere along the process your ropes had loosened, but didn't have the energy to free yourself. It would be in vain anyways, since he won't let you step foot outside the door.

After a few more kicks, he finally stopped, crouching down to your eye level.

"You're so pathetic. Goodbye, Y/N."

He pulled out a gun and shot you in the face.

...

You jerked awake, sweat glistening on your forehead and your breaths were shaky and uneven. Dazai woke up from the sudden movement, trying to guage the situation.

"What's wrong?"

His voice sent shivers down your spine, and you scurried off the bed. You placed a hand over your torso, trying to find the bruises that he had probably left.

"Y/N?"

Dazai asks as he slowly makes his way over to you. When you notice him coming tour way, you panic.

"No! Don't come closer! Please! I'm sorry!"

Dazai froze in his place. He knew you were having a nightmare, he just didn't know he was the one making it scary.

"Okay, I won't. Tell me what's wrong."

You stood shaking, back to the wall as you tried making sense of your surroundings. You were able to make out the bed and the bedroom. The room that the two of you shared. It was dark. Probably nighttime. You were just having a bad dream. That wasn't real. This is. Dazai won't hurt you. He isn't in the mafia anymore.

"Y-you won't.. hurt me?"

Your frightened stare and broken whispers broke Dazai's heart. What did you dream? Did you see him as a monster? Is he being a monster to you? Dreams are only reflections of our subconscious minds. So do you fear him?

"No, I won't hurt you."

He says, trying to calm you down.

"Promise?"

You whispered.

"I promise. I won't ever hurt you. Ever."

You gulped down your fear and slowly inched over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He stool completely still, fearing that if he moved even a little, he might scare you. You placed your cheek on his chest, inhaling his scent. It really was him. It was your Dazai.

When you realized what had just happened, tears began flowing down your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry.."

You managed to say between sobs.

Dazai hesitantly placed his arms over you, gently rocking you.

"Shh.. Don't cry. It's okay now."

"I'm so sorry.."

"Why are you sorry, sweetheart? It was just a dream, right."

You nodded against his chest.

"But I made you the villain. You're not a bad guy. You're amazing. I don't know why... I can't think of a reason why I saw you.. like that.."

Dazai's heart broke a little more.

"Maybe I am a monster. I'm just too good at hiding it."

His ominous tone wasn't meant to warn you. It was a result of his own self hate. He hated that he used to be a monster. If he hadn't known you, then maybe a couple of years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice before hurting you.

"No, you're not. You're a child hiding under a strong façade. "

Dazai's eyes widened at that.

"What?"

You pulled back, wiping your tears off your face.

"I saw it the first time we met. You were just a child who was asked to grow up too fast. You hadn't lived your childhood. Under all the threats, jests, murders and plans, you're but a scared child."

He just stared at you.

"That's part of the reason why I trust you. I know you didn't mean to harm. You were just told to. Now that you have a chance to do what you truly want to do, you choose to not harm. I really admire that about you."

You caressed his cheek in your palm.

"I don't know why I dreamt what I just did, but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that you would never hurt me. I trust you."

Those three words.

'I trust you'.

They were enough for Dazai. They meant so much to him.

With a shaky whisper, he muttered.

"Thank you."

You smiled, pulling him in an embrace.

272 notes · View notes

ilydenji · 4 years

Note

Bro I need some relationship hc with the miya twins and a male reader

a relationship with the miya twins

includes — miya atsumu , miya osamu

note — i’m so sorry this took so long- i couldn’t get around to this until a day ago cause of school. either way, I hope you like this <3

-you were the manager for the inarizaki volleyball club, and you so happened to catch the attention of a certain setter

-he just thought you were a pretty boy-

-before even dating you, atsumu would constantly tease you to no end.

-he just wants your attention— give it to him. he won't leave you alone but, he’ll be happy

-he was the first to make a move and asked for your number when they were on break

-you, barely knowing him was just like ????

-atsumu is always awake at 3am for some unholy reason and he a l w a y s lets you know. sir go to sleep you have practice wtf are you doing

-“hey bae lol”

-“it’s 3:49am. wtf do u want”

-“lonely </3”

-he texts like a fuckboy and he doesn’t even mean to

-but besides that, he always texts you a sweet goodnight message. his good mornings are ass though

-“gm” mf where did the energy go???

-that aside; once he actually gets with you, everybody already knows before you even tell them

-first; he won't shut up about you

-“aint my boyfriend the cutest?”

-“y/n looks so good today— did ya see him ‘samu?”

-osamu is one second away from committing a murder

-he’s also really touchy. PDA is his thing.

-atsumu either has an arm wrapped

around your waist or is holding your hand, no in-between

-he loves to show you off im sorry </3

-despite how annoying he can be, he genuinely loves you

-the small smile he always has when

looking at you do anything just proves it

-literally, anyone can tell how in love with you he is— and he’s not afraid to show you it either.

-you were just another boy in his class

-you didn't try to stand out but yet, you still manage to catch the attention of a certain twin.

-unlike atsumu, he won't try to annoy you to get your attention

-he asks if you want to study with him during free time and you agreed to it, needing to anyway

-from then on, it just became a thing between the two of you. you two would study whenever osamu didn’t have practice.

-through these little study dates, he learned some things about you. once he learned your favorite food, his plan was set into action

-osamu would bring you your favorite snack during lunch every day

-he doesn’t mean to but he sometimes stares when you eat because he thinks the way you eat is so cute

-this just became another thing between the two of you

-and once you’ve gotten to know him enough, osamu could tell you were starting to enjoy his company a little too much

-eventually, osamu confessed to you. it was really straight forward

-“y/n”, I like you. would you like to be my boyfriend?”

how could one say no to such a romantic gesture 🙄

-his nicknames for you are sweet yet so stupid

-he’ll call you food names lol

- “my little onigiri <3”

-he knows they sound ridiculous, but he still says it anyway

-if you attend his games and cheer you on, osamu will feel a little more confident

-he’ll wave to you from the court with a small smile on his face ,,, ):

-he loves !! to cook for you !! he’ll make you taste test almost everything and atsumu gets jealous bc he used to do that

-not because osamu wanted him to, atsumu just did that .... 😭😭

- “samu, ya ain't gonna feed your brother who loves ya dearly ??? ❤️”

- osamu never looked so disgusted before LMFOSFIF

-osamu like cuddling you, he doesn’t have a preference but he’s usually big spoon.

-when he’s spooning you, your back will be against his chest while his hands draw light circles on your exposed stomach

-but when you’re spooning him, he likes to have his head on your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist.

-either way, it’ll just be a soft quiet night where the two of you bask in the comfort of each other.

-unlike atsumu, osamu gets protective, not jealous.

-if the other person was persistent osamu would intimidate them with his presence, he wouldn’t waste energy

-though, afterward, he won't be as outwardly touchy with you as atsumu but he will be around you a lot more

-no matter how long you’ve been with him, the honeymoon phase doesn't seem to end for him.

-every time he looks at you, his eyes are full of love

536 notes · View notes

incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

Note

Comte’s One More Wedding Event (full release)that should have just came out in Japanese Version. Could you translate it or summarize it, please? Thank you for your time.

I can't believe you want to give me this kind of power, but if you insist 😂💛

That being said, because my translation skills are rough at best, I'll be summarizing and selecting specific parts to discuss if I feel a need to quote directly.

If you don't want spoilers for Comte ES, run!

Y'all. Y'ALL. REEEEEEEEE I LOVE HIM. NOBODY LOOK AT ME I'VE BEEN CRYING ON AND OFF FOR DAYS

ANYWAY

So this particular event begins with MC bringing Comte a letter as he thanks her. One glance at the return address tells him that it's a pureblood gathering invitation, and upon opening it he's right. He shrugs it off and says he'll reply to it later, setting it aside.

MC, perceptive as ever, asks if he's declining the invitation. Comte explains the nature of the party and how only purebloods are allowed to end. Furthermore, the gathering takes place on their first wedding anniversary--and he would much prefer to spend the day with her.

Comte: “MC, any gorgeous evening party–no matter how beautiful–means nothing to me without my wife at my side. The place I belong is with you.”

MC: “Er…”

His gold eyes are steady and unwavering as he looks at me, and my heart skips a beat.

Comte: “Anywho I have no intention of attending this party, as it also overlaps with the date of our anniversary. Our first wedding anniversary is an important day, and I want to spend it with my beloved wife.”

Comte smiles winningly, all while staring straight at me.

MC, however, finds herself conflicted. Given how little she knows about purebloods, she wishes she could attend the party to better understand him and the community he's a part of. She admits this, to Comte's great surprise, but feels bad about it because she doesn't mean to ask something impossible of him. (One of the requirements of the party is that you have to be a pureblood vampire to be invited. ON WEDNESDAYS WE WEAR PINK) Comte clarifies that--because she's his wife--she's welcome to attend alongside him. He offers to take her with him if that's what she wants.

MC: “Are you really sure it’s okay for me to go, though?”

Comte: “Certainly. But I would never force you if you were uncomfortable, of course.”

MC: “No, I don’t hate the idea!”

Comte: “But I’d understand if being surrounded by purebloods would be rather nerve-wracking for you…And so many of them have a superiority complex a mile wide; they’re a prideful bunch. While it may not be all of us, there are enough that it might be stifling for you to be around them.”

Comte: “In light of all that, are you certain you still wish to go?”

[I know he’s just doing his best to prepare me for what I might face at a party like this--he doesn’t want me going in with the wrong idea. It’s very likely he had intended to decline the invitation to spare me the discomfort, and the burden of making a choice that would affect/limit him too. The concern in his features makes me melt.]

The part I love most about this scene is that this is just the beginning of so many attempts on his part to prepare her realistically, but also support her decision. As much as he wants to go with her he's never going to put her in the position of deciding for the both of them. He knows there's a great deal of pressure to face among such a forbidding/traditional society, and if she needs more time to prepare for that--he wants to give her the space to get used to something so unfamiliar. In truth, I don't see him ever asking her to go if she didn't want to--even if it stung to have that part of him rejected...

MC considers for a moment, but she's resolved to understand him and his people better. She explains as much, and Comte brightens at the confession.

MC: “I’m sorry if it’s a bit much to ask of you, but thank you…!”

Comte: “I should be the one thanking you, now I look forward to the gathering.”

MC: “You’re…looking forward to it?”

When I tilt my head quizzically, le Comte draws me close with a faint smile on his lips.

Comte: “I’m excited to introduce you as my wife.” (SCREAMS AND CRIES)

This gets INSANELY cute because he gathers her close to him and she just gets very bashful about it. She apologizes--saying she knows she should be more used to it given they've already been married a year now, but his response is so sweet: “Why apologize? I’ve always thought my wife is the cutest.”

They both think back to their wedding ceremony at the mention of how long they've been together, and MC's eyes find the flower pins she gifted him on top of his hourglass (which fking one he has like 300).

Some background for anyone unaware: when Comte and MC got married, MC gifted him these flower pins--they were flowers that were preserved (in metal I think? idk exactly how it works they just look metallic in his outfit art). She explains that they're an attempt to symbolize her love for him, in that she intends to remain unchanging in her feelings forever. I find it's also an apt metaphor for MC herself; it's not unlike her agreement to become a vampire to stay with him.

MC: “You’ve been taking good care of the flowers I gave you.”

Right next to the hourglass lie the preserved flowers I gave him. They gleam in the light with ease, clearly polished and looked after–not a speck of dust on them.

Comte: “With those you swore your love to me. Isn’t it only natural that I’d take good care of them?” (LISTEN COMTE YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THE REALITY OF THE MALE SPECIES QUIT PLAYIN)

After that scene there's a timeskip to the night of the party--and after everyone celebrates their anniversary in the mansion all day--they hop in a carriage. MC is a little lost in thought, preparing herself for what's to come. When he asks if she's nervous she fully admits to it, but with a caveat. She's nervous because she doesn't know what to expect and she's concerned about committing a social faux pas, but she's not afraid or anxious.

Before I came to this time I had absolutely no concept of what an elaborate dinner party looked like–and besides which, this time it’s going to be a room full of purebloods. I’m nervous, sure, because I’ve never done this before--but it’s not quite anxiety or fear.

MC: “As long as you’re beside me, I’m invincible–anytime, anywhere.”

I can navigate anything: unfamiliar social circles, even an entirely new era of time. Because Comte is always so steady and reliable, always there for me, my anxiety ebbs and I can shine–be the very best I can be.

Comte: “MC…”

Comte looks absolutely moved by what I have to say, directing a gentle, tender look at me.

Comte reiterates his previous warning, that they might be weirdos and/or rude because they're stuck in their ways. He knows their discriminatory nature is wrong, but he believes in her ability to overcome those things--and fully intends to support her. He also lets her know what to expect in terms of the schedule: mostly mingling, and dancing is reserved for the very end of the party only.

Gatsby hour begins and MC marvels at the enormous venue sparsely populated by people dressed to the nines (I can only imagine how Comte dressed her up for this event in light of that LMFAO). Comte tells her he's going to get some drinks, and MC agrees to wait for him. In a classic lowkey queen move, she retreats against a nearby wall to take in her surroundings. She feels a certain intensity to be surrounded by people who look so young and beautiful, and yet carry the experience of lifetimes within them. She also notes the slightest permeating scent of blood in the air, assuming most of the people in attendance are drinking Rouge in their wine glasses.

When Comte returns to her, he offers her a glass of red wine, and she takes it with a smile.

MEAN GIRLS TIME!!!!!

So these two ladies approach le Comte yelling about how long it's been since they've seen him, and about the rumors that he got married. Without missing a beat he confirms it's true, and introduces MC to them as his wife. MC offers a greeting and a curtsy, but the women openly spurn her because she's not a vampire lmao. ("Who put you on the planet" energy, essentially). I still can't tell if they were acting like insane mother-in-laws on Comte's behalf, or out of jealousy--or weirdly both.

All casual dismissal, the women sashay away from us, dresses swishing.

[It seems like I really won’t be accepted as Comte’s life partner so long as I remain human…]

Comte: “…I’m sorry. I’m afraid that is the usual attitude of pureblood vampires. Not all of us are like that, but they still made you feel uncomfortable ;;;;”

MC: “That’s not something to apologize for. I’m happy to attend such a lovely party as your wife.”

I don’t want to ruin the occasion for him, so I beam at him.

Comte: “MC…” His lips descend close to my ear, pressing the lightest kiss against it.

Comte: “Thank you, MC…I’m happy, too.”

While Comte is full of uwus and love for his wife, she notes he stops there--likely because it's a public venue. (And I'd wager respectability politics, given a lot of old school people tend to say horrible things at the slightest sign of PDA lol. It would give them all the more reason to be nasty to MC.) MC notes that no matter how small the gesture or how often he extends his affection, it always sets her heart racing (what a damn mood) and they both gear up to greet everyone else. They're both like ganbatte!!! at each other and it's really cute, haha.

[No matter how many times he does things like this, I’m always caught off guard. I imagine we’ll be this way forever…]

Comte: “Here we go, the party’s only just begun. Let’s get to it and enjoy ourselves. No need to hesitate, it’s our wedding anniversary after all–this is a time for you to smile.”

MC: “Haha, thank you very much! Then I’ll definitely enjoy it to the fullest!”

We continue to greet and chat with other purebloods, the night goes on while I sample some of their food–

At some point MC separates from Comte to use the restroom. When she exits to rejoin the crowd, she hears the voices of those two women that openly rejected her earlier. They basically talk about how Comte and MC will never last or have a meaningful relationship, and that Comte is wasting his time not breeding more master race pureblood babies for the community's future. (Not remotely surprised Leonardo does not like them at this juncture lmao)

While MC was well aware she'd face some level of disdain, she admits that it still hurts to hear--and doesn't want Comte to see her upset. So she walks out to a nearby balcony to look at the stars and cool off before returning to his side.

Comte: “MC.”

MC: “Eh…? Comte, when did you get here?”

Comte: “You hadn’t returned for a while, so I went looking for you.”

MC: “Ah, I’m sorry to worry you. The stars were so lovely I couldn’t help but linger a bit to enjoy the sight of them.”

When I try to hide my gloomy feelings, he stares at me.

Comte: “You seem upset all of a sudden. Did something happen? Did someone…say something to you, by any chance?”

MC: “Ah, I can’t hide from you it seems. I guess I am a little upset.”

Comte: “…”

Comte: “MC, do you regret marrying me?”

MC: “!”

MC: “That’s not the case at all. No matter what finds us in the future, I’ll never regret having married you. I’m glad I met you, Abel–that will never change…”

When I tell him my heartfelt feelings, he gently wraps his arms around me.

Comte: “…Me too, MC.” The voice that murmurs at my ear is filled with such ardor that my heart melts.

Comte: “It might have been too much to ask of you to come here. But no matter how difficult the truth may be, it’s an undeniable fact that I’m a pureblood.”

Comte: “I was so happy that you wanted to know more about me–to know me better–that I was spoiled by your words. And yet, as a result of that indulgence, I hurt you…”

MC: “…No. That’s not it. Abel, I’m not familiar with vampires. But this last year, I was with a pureblood who’s kinder than anyone else I know.”

I have no innate fear or dislike of purebloods–because the person I love more than anyone else in the world is a pureblood vampire.

MC: “That’s why I’m not afraid, or dreading any of this.” It might seem outlandish, but his presence was like magic; it was enough to give me the strength to have courage and find kindness for the people around me.

MC: “No matter who stands in my way in the future, I will do my best to be recognized as your partner someday. Didn't I tell you before? I'm invincible anytime, anywhere, as long as you're there with me!”

Upon hearing her resolve to stay with him, he feels the need to renew his vow to her too--telling her that he'll always love her as well, and that his feelings have only grown since then. One important bit to note in his confession is that he fully admits he had a hard time coming to term with what he was, he's only a little more accepting of being a pureblood because her existence redefines what an eternity means to him. He explains that, while no end of time used to be an upsetting and hollow concept to him, the fact that his long life will be spent cultivating his love for her gives him the strength to face his reality.

They kiss and MC acknowledges that life--no matter how long--always has its ups and downs. Sometimes there will be rough times, like when those Mean Girls women were actively nasty and unfair to her. And sometimes there will be joyous times, like how Comte just repeated his vow to her so sweetly. But more than anything, it's important to live in the present moment as fully as possible, and she deepens her kiss with Comte accordingly.

After what I assume to be an excellent make out, they return to the venue and rejoin the group of vampires. Now then, because it's Comte and Comte refuses to take any shit he reveals his ace in the hand. Premeditated and all cunning expectation, the show begins:

After reaffirming our feelings for the other, we return to the hall. When we wandered around to greet people today, there were also vampires who were kind to me. For those that remain perturbed by my presence, they continue to sneer at me as though I were an eyesore.

[I don’t care. Comte’s by my side…]

Comte: “…That’s right, MC. There was one thing I forgot to mention.”

MC: “Huh?”

Comte: “A short while ago, you said something about doing your best to earn their approval. I wouldn’t even worry about it, you’re perfect just as you are. Everyone here just doesn’t have the slightest inkling as to your charms yet. For those with the ability to see, feel free to show them as many times as you like.”

MC: “Comte…”

At that very moment, a waltz begins to flow into the hall.

Comte: “Oh, is it time to dance already? MC, shall we?” (Oh Is It TiMe To DaNcE aLrEaDy, damn clown)

MC: “Yes.”

In time with the melody, we begin to waltz together. When I'd first arrived to this era, the steps and the dance itself were unfamiliar to me. Now when I dance with Comte it’s nearly effortless–natural as breathing.

[Comte has taken me to so many evening parties at this point. Thanks to his impeccable leading any uncertainty in my step is elegantly disguised.]

Comte: “MC.”

As we danced, he called my name--crooned it softly.

Comte: “…Have you noticed? Everyone is watching us.”

At the sound of this new information, I look around.

[Oh, it’s true–everyone really is looking at us…]

And it’s not like before, tinged with displeasure and contempt. It’s like they can’t look away from us now, dazzled and intrigued.

MC: “Makes sense–you’ve always been a very graceful dancer, Comte, it’s impossible not to find it captivating.”

Comte: “No. Without you as my partner, I can’t enjoy it nearly as much as I do now.”

He grins as he says so, the sentiment reflected in his buoyant step. Beautiful, noble…and above all, lively. Even though I’m always by his side, I remain endlessly captivated by that smile and movement.

Comte: “We are more in tune with each other than every other pair here, don’t you think?”

MC: “Haha, that’s right!”

I think le Comte is lovely no matter who he’s dancing with, but I’m sure I’m the one who gets along with him best–I think so, because his golden eyes reflect no one else but me.

[No matter what anyone says…I won’t give up this position to anyone else.]

When the song is over, and the dance is finished, the hall is filled with the raucous sound of applause and cheering. All these people are looking at us and their eyes are shining.

[I wonder…if maybe our feelings for each other were transmitted more clearly after that dance? The mere thought of it makes me feel ticklish and delighted.]

After their lovely display, the Mean Girls ladies approach MC to apologize as everybody is leaving for the night. MC accepts their apologies and says she wants to find a way to get along with them moving forward, though they're still pretty reluctant (probably only apologized to save face).

Differences in lifestyle and family tradition...I think there are many reasons why they can’t accept me. I don’t think it’s easy to understand the breadth of the gap between us; I’m sure I’ll need more time to be able to bridge those differences.

[I don’t know the way of life or struggle of the pureblood people yet. But…I want to understand.]

Even if we are endlessly different, I don’t want to give up on finding some sort of compromise. Next to me, le Comte smiles silently. For the foreseeable future--as long as it may take--I want to prove that I can make this person happy.

I deadass can't stop laughing at the fact of Comte standing next to MC all :)))))) (y'all he is emitting BOSS M U S I C)

After that, Comte and MC also head into their carriage and head home:

Comte: “MC, thank you.”

Le Comte remarks on the way home in the carriage.

MC: “…? I haven’t done anything worth thanks.”

Comte: “For today, for coming with me. And--up until now and from now on--for being by my side. I wanted to thank you again.”

He leans over from where he sits next to me and entwines our fingers together.

MC: “…Abel?”

Comte: “…Today is not just the day of the party, but our wedding anniversary too, right? From here on out, it’s time for only us two to be together.”

This is essentially where the premium story ends, and then it moves into the epilogue. I'll give some tidbits from the epilogue, just because it was so endlessly gratifying. Other than them having the smash of the century, it's mostly Comte going overstimulation feral service top. But there are so many really romantic moments during the shameless fking ;-;

The more he kisses me, the more my need for him spirals out of control. As if to entice him I twist my tongue with his deeper and deeper.

Comte: “MC…”

He exhales my name on a single heated syllable, and I can tell by the way he’s looking at me precisely what it is he wants.

Comte: “MC, what do you want to do…? I want to make you happy tonight. Do you want me to be kind? Or take you with reckless abandon?”

MC: “Abel…please do as you like. That’s what would make me happiest. :>”

Comte: “…I see. So you want to be made a mess of, is what you mean.”

MC: “Mn, aah–”

When his hands trace my sides seductively, my sensitive body reacts on it’s own.

Comte: “…You’re really cute, MC. Tonight, I’ll remind you the joy of being mine again.”

---

Comte: “Always so sensitive. Just the slightest touch, and you cry out with such a sweet voice…”

MC: “Well, it is your fault…”

[Because if Abel touches me like that…He spoils me and leaves me in an endless sea of pleasure, building up to that crest–fading–and building up again…because he loves me so dearly.]

Comte: “My fault, is it?…I like the sound of that.”

With a bewitching smile, he makes short work of his tie and button down. Even the most casual gestures like this are done with such grace that it becomes sensual. I’m drawn to the sight of him revealing more and more of his skin, thinking he’s far too much of a tease.

Comte: “…If you look at me with such desirous, greedy eyes, I’m going to lose control myself, MC.”

----

MC: “I…all I do is take from you…” I’m embarrassed because I’m so inexperienced that all I do is drown in the pleasure he gives me.

Comte: “…If you really think so, then you’re too unaware.”

MC: “Mn–ah, hah…”

Comte: “I’m the one who can’t stop wanting you…MC.”

When he leans over to murmur in my ear, his voice is suffused with desire–breathing shallow. From the gap between his lips, I can see the fangs which have never broken my skin…

MC: “Abel…do you want to bite me?”

If the answer is yes, then I’d be delighted. A vampire’s hunger for blood is often tied to romantic feeling. If he wants to suck my blood, then that’s all the more evidence that he loves me.

Comte: “That’s right. I want to sink my fangs into your soft skin…To taste your blood, to know your body and soul--I want to make every part of you mine.”

MC: “Mn…”

He drops a kiss to my throat, tickled by his tongue as he licks there–as if to taste me.

Comte: “But…”

Only I am reflected in his eyes.

Comte: “The only thing I want more than biting you is to take good care of you. I don’t want to impulsively take anything from you.”

MC: “Abel…”

....

Comte: “Someday…I will make you into a vampire. But, right now, I want you to stay exactly as you are.”

The heat of him coupled by that serious look...my heart is swept away.

Comte: “So…can you bear with my hesitation for just a little while longer?”

MC: “Yes…forever. I’ll always be yours.” I replied, wrapping my arms around his back. He squinted, as if he were staring at something dazzling.

Comte: “I’m always hesitating, but…MC. I will absolutely never let you go. I swear my love to you forever, my dear wife.”

----

The last part of the epilogue is confusing because I'm not sure if it's intended to be an actual dream or Comte just messing with her, but here goes:

[Morning already…?]

At the sensation of sunlight, I open my eyes.

MC: “Eh!?”

Comte: “Are you up, MC? The defenseless face you make when you’re asleep is adorable, but when you open your eyes and look at me that’s also lovely.”

He was lying in bed, unlike last night, wearing the same outfit he had on for our wedding.

[Ah, I’m most likely dreaming.] When I realize it, I get a ticklish feeling in my chest and can’t help the smile that finds my face.

MC: “Haha…”

Comte: “MC? What’s wrong?”

MC: “No, I was just thinking you really will always be by my side. I’m glad to see you in my dreams like this…I’m happy.”

Comte: “…Haha, that’s right. I’m happy too. But…it’s not always a dream right?”

MC: “Er…”

His voice easily makes my heart flutter, like sweet sake.

Comte: “Would you like to see if it’s a dream? …Once again, with your body.”

My heart thunders under his sultry gaze, covetous gold eyes beckoning me closer. (COME HITHER FUCK)

MC: “Yes, Abel. As many times as you like…take me.”

I know dream-like, impossibly happy days will continue as long as I stay by his side–

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

There is so much going on here that I don't even know how to encompass all my feelings other than to say MARRIED COUPLE G O A L S. AAAAAAAAA I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE'S SUCH A DOTING HUSBAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PUT A RING ON ME S I R

I really love the endless reciprocity coming from MC, lmao. She very openly wants to respond to his efforts, wants to make him happy too, is just as desirous in their coupling. I also love how much personality and spunk she has??? I was fucking d y i n g when she was like:

MC: "Aren't the stars so nice." Comte: "Adorable that you'd try to out-fake the king faker. What really happened." MC: "Damn it."

It's been a long time since I've gotten this much serotonin from a story m a nnnnnn

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp jpn spoilers #can't believe mc defeated pureblood regina george #what a time to be alive folks #god this event is going to give me cavities #im so fucking softe #the way he just loves and supports her in such a steadfast and lowkey way #though i will admit it was a little hilarious watching this event because i was so like 'lmao is that the best you got'#i grew up with rich suburban white girls what do i care im too busy eating shrimp #GOD and the fangy part #swear to god every single time he gets fangy i just ascend #fingers crossed his fifth bday event will be him turning her IM BEGGING CRYBIRD #thanks for this request!!! hope this all makes sense #always welcome <3 #at this point i have to wonder if there is a different writer for some of comte's stories bc yeesh #h e l p comte is too powerful...#rambles #not incorrect quotes #yall when he asks if mc regrets marrying him i swear to god my heart just stopped in my chest #BABY NO?????? MY GOD?????? YOU ARE LITERALLY MY DREAM HUSBAND?????? STOP???????

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 5: Peace of Mind

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

I've decided that when I get to a point where the "choice" is made between Liu and Lao, the stories name will change to help avoid confusion. That way you can follow either path or both. Then I will try to update those as much as I can. I know where both are going for the most part. God, I'm such a cock-tease lol.

This bit is a bit shorter than usual but I plan on updating AGAIN tomorrow! Surprise: Kung Lao will be back tomorrow. Side note: should I draw MC? Anyone into that? And as always, open to suggestions and will include any I like.

Part 4 Part 6 Chapter Index

You jumped upright in bed, the breeze from the window making your sweat covered body shiver. Wiping your face, you searched the room and found that you were utterly alone. In your mind’s eyes you could see the writhing of bodies that had woken you.

It had been a dream.

A wildly inappropriate dream.

Hands trembling, you held your head in your hands. Your face was red and hot and when you closed your eyes, you could see Liu Kang’s strong body over yours and feel his familiar hands. You blinked your eyes and kept them open wide. “Oh boy.” You laughed at yourself and then flopped back against the bed with a frustrated whine. It had been miserably difficult not to let your imagination run wild the day before but apparently all your self-control disappeared when you slept. After the day you’d had and the tension that had built like static when you were fighting, how could you be upset with yourself?

You knew Liu Kang well at this point. Well enough that his touch was familiar. It was cruel and unnecessary of your imagination to do that to you during your sleep. How were you supposed to find your arcana when your brain was made of Liu Kang spaghetti? The attractive, confident, and kind Liu Kang was your teacher and you had to find a way to set a boundary between that and whatever this was. “Calm down, Y/N.” With that you took slow and deep breaths.

Adjusting yourself on the bed you crossed your legs and closed your eyes to meditate. But your imagination betrayed you, and you could feel his breath on your neck and hear his voice in your head. Pinching the bridge of your nose you laughed at yourself but flopped again on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

This was a natural thing. To be attracted to someone you were forming a new relationship with. You were finding your footing as friends and the draw between you would change with time. Deep down you were certain it was more than that and you were dismissing a very obvious attraction between them.

No matter what it was, there was no chance you would trust your imagination to let you sleep. You would have to clear your thoughts and find some peace before you could rest again. Getting up, you changed into the red and black flowing hanfu and decided to take a walk. That would get your mind off the day before and erase the memory of Liu’s, well, everything.

There were very few others walking through the temple that late at night. You decided that you hadn’t slept for long before your dream had woken you. Not dwelling on the memory of it, you kept walking until you were utterly lost and honestly nothing had felt quite as good or wondrous in some time. Raiden’s Temple was beautiful and ancient. Exploring it made you feel like a curious child, which in your opinion, was better than a frustrated adult.

There were many sprawling hallways and you felt that this one was particularly high within the ravine. You caught sight of the night sky through an archway and leaned against the stone. A monk walked behind you with a polite bow carrying a heavy pot filled with water. You nodded in greeting and then stepped onto the platform. At the end of the short platform was a huge statue of Raiden, seated cross legged in meditation.

The sky was radiant, and you wished to be closer to it and considered the roof but instead you set your eyes on the hat of the statue. You carefully climbed up with a few skilled jumps and then sat atop the edge of the hat, overlooking the ravine. Below you could see the fight pit, but it appeared small from there.

Seated atop the statues wide brimmed hat, you got comfortable and admired the brilliance of the night sky. The glassy moon filled the night around it with brilliance, dimming the stars in its halo. Wisps of pale clouds traversed the sky as if carried by invisible birds. You could see the milky way and the sparkling of stars that you had never seen before. You couldn’t remember ever thinking that the sky was this magnificent. In those moments you felt lucky to be alive and privileged to see the world in such a way.

It seemed funny then that your home popped into mind. There had been times where you’d sat on the roof of your apartment above the dojo and watched the sky, but it had never felt like this. That life felt so foreign now that you were oddly detached from it. Hopefully, your sister was okay. Your mother had passed away years ago and your father had stayed with your sister while you took care of the dojo in his honor.

Did they think that you died in the fire? What had become of the dojo? Had any of it survived? Did they think you’d done it and murdered those men? Were you a wanted criminal now? Had Kung Lao told anyone what had become of you? You had a thousand questions for your childhood friend, but you weren’t sure that you were ready for the answers either.

“Y/N?” You sat upright and turned in search of the voice. Liu Kang was staring up at the statue curiously. You peeked over the edge and offered him a wave despite your stomach doing a flip at the sight of him. With a confident grace, he leapt atop the statue and joined you. You returned to your spot, sitting comfortably on the hat and he sat next to you. Together you stared into the starry night, admiring the beauty of Raiden’s Temple. Every so often you heard the footsteps of another monk making their way but there was little else besides Liu’s controlled breathing and the occasional shifting of his prayer beads from his hand to his wrist. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You decided to be honest. You weren’t a big fan of lying but telling Liu the absolute truth of your dream was a level of embarrassment and honesty you weren’t prepared for. “My mind and heart were all jumbled up, so I came to find some peace.”

“Did you find the peace you were looking for?”

“I did.” You decided with a smile. What you were feeling toward him wasn’t a bad thing, you’d decided. It was a conflict in your mind still, but not all conflict was bad.

“Seated atop a dangerously tall and ancient statue overlooking the most perilous of pits?”

“The view can’t be beat. And it’s private.”

“And yet I invaded your privacy as I often seem to do.” Liu turned to face you, his arm rested against one knee.

“It’s only an invasion if it’s not welcome, Liu.” You reassured him. Silence fell again but it wasn’t the warm and comforting silence you’d become accustomed to with Liu Kang. He radiated with both fire and uncertainty. “Are you okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He brushed his fingers again over the prayer beads. “I decided I would check on you and as I made my way, I felt that someone was up here.”

“Oh?”

“Your energy is tangible,” he said all while avoiding your eyes. Your eyebrows shot straight up your forehead.

“So, you knew it was me?” The butterflies were back. He was good at that. Liu nodded. “That’s remarkable.” So much for peace of mind. Were you ever going to manage sleep again without your renegade thoughts getting carried away? “I’m glad that you found me.”

“Your energy reminds of a shadow flickering beneath the lamplight. I’m curious. Can you sense my energy, as well?” The confidence had returned to him. There was still something beneath his confident exterior that you couldn’t decipher, and you watched his thumb carefully brush over each of the beads in his hand. “I think it could be common to sense others with a dragon marking.”

“Yes, I can.” You chose your words carefully. “I always thought that your presence was fiery, but I didn’t realize that was literal until earlier.” Liu turned to face the edge of the statue again and his brief smile faded. You adjusted to face him better, careful of your footing. “What’s on your mind, Liu?”

“You were in my dreams.” He seemed sad. Inwardly, you panicked. He’d been in your dreams too, but something about his demeanor made you feel as though it were in a quite different context. How were you supposed to process any of this? “I lost you.”

You made sure not to let the sigh of relief be audible. “You lost me?”

“Not the best phrasing but no less the same. You died.” Liu said this with such finality that it shook you, and a chill ran down your spine. “I couldn’t go back to sleep with that image of you in my head. Selfishly, I needed to see your living and breathing self.”

“Liu…”

“I know that you’re capable, Y/N. I can see why Kung Lao values you so highly. I suppose that it is natural to fear for someone that you’ve bonded with. And we have bonded, haven’t we?” You were at a complete loss for words. He’d said a lot without saying much at all and you were left to interpret it as you would. What terrible timing. Your heart was so confused. “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong. We’ve bonded.” You decided then to confess at least part of what was keeping you awake that night. No details, just a small bit of truth. “I dreamt about you too. It woke me up and when I couldn’t find the peace to return to sleep, I wound up here.” You smiled weakly and turned back to face the sky. “I tried to meditate the stress away but in truth I’m used to meditating with you, so it brought me no peace.” Liu seemed oddly relieved by your confession. If only he knew the truth. You weren’t sure how he would react. In fact, your face burned just thinking about it.

“I assure you that I’m capable, Y/N. I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” You said nothing else on the matter. He hadn’t been in danger in your dream, in fact, quite the opposite. You sat in silence again and much to your surprise, he shifted, scooted closer and slipped his arm around you shoulder. His hands were warm even through your sleeves.

“Until you’ve mastered your arcana and healed then you are the one that we should worry about. There’s still time before the tournament, but it doesn’t mean that we will be entirely without danger.” Liu gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “The sooner you can control your arcana, the better.”

“I know that with your help I’ll manage sooner rather than later.”

“That’s a lot of faith in me.”

“In us both.” You smiled at him. He adjusted, arm falling away from your shoulder. You missed it instantly. His arms were warm and strong. “This is a hurdle we will conquer.” You turned to watch the stars again and pulled your knees closer to your chest, resting one arm over them, the other resting between you and Liu. Liu’s eyes were on you. You could feel them watching you rather than the sky. He needed to see that you were okay and that his dream was just that. Whatever came next, you were ready for it. One way or another, you would fight. Still, he did not turn his gaze and you were distracted by him. “You’re staring.” You let your gaze flitter to him out of the corner of your eye.

“You get this look on your face while you’re thinking. It’s fascinating to watch your expression shift and change even minutely.” The fondness of his voice was overwhelming. To be spoken of with such reverence made you feel better than anything ever had. “You feel your emotions very deeply. It is a gift.” He turned his gaze back to the night sky, right arm rested on his knee. His left hand then found yours between them and rested atop it.

You swore you might be blushing for the rest of your days at this rate. The fondness of his voice and the gentleness of his hand made your heart race. You supposed that when you thought about it, you had flirted on and off. At the very least you had grown fond of each other. There’d been plenty of close calls the last few days, but you hadn’t been sure if you were overthinking or not. But this moment was far more transparent. An arm around you. His hand over yours. Deliberate displays of intimacy.

You weren’t sure you could sit still much longer thinking like this, so you turned to ask him if he wished to study. Instead, you clammed up and found him far closer to you than you had anticipated. You could feel his breath, the warmth radiating from his energy, surrounding you like a distant and welcome flame. He admired your face, stopping at each of your features with his dark eyes, and then brushed your hair away. This was an intimacy that you had grown quite fond of but also it was different than before. His fingers left a ghost of a touch against your forehead and your cheek, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. The fear in his eyes had gone, the nerves and uncertainty had gone with them. All that was left to his stare was warmth and admiration.

His hand brushed against your jaw softly and then rested against your cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye. He tilted you closer. Your heart stopped in your chest and you didn’t breathe for fear that it would stop him. It was a moment you never wanted to end. Eyes half-lidded you caught a glance of his lips, parted ever so slightly and nearing yours. Then a horrid crash echoed from behind the statue.

In an instant, you were apart and both sliding to the other side of the statue in search of the sound. Liu leapt from the statue gracefully and you peered over the side, catching your breath. Below you could see a monk there, speaking with Liu. There were pieces of something shattered on the ground. You carefully climbed from the statue to join them.

The monk muttered his apologies. Liu had bent down to clean up the shards of the pot that had been dropped. Water was spread over the stone floor. Your fingers were numb and the action of helping clean up the shattered pot felt surreal. Honestly, the entire night had felt surreal. From waking up from an inappropriate dream, to staring at the stars with Liu. The monk bowed his head and took the shards with him as he made his way to wherever he was meant to. You stood upright and fixed your hair. You could feel that Liu’s eyes were on you again. Even though you were no longer seated close together or even touching, the tension hadn’t faded.

“We should rest.” The fog of the moment had at least cleared, and you knew that if you didn’t go to bed now then you’d likely wind up doing something irresponsible with Liu Kang. Why were you resisting this obvious tug? It seemed oddly taboo, though you couldn’t place your finger on the reasons why. You were both consenting adults, so why shouldn’t you embrace this? Oddly enough, you felt guilty even at the thought.

These emotions were far too complex for the middle of the night.

“I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Thank you, Liu.” Together you walked through the hall of the temple and you were suddenly grateful to have him guiding you. You’d wandered so far and so aimlessly that you had no idea where you’d wound up. It would have taken you ages to find your way back. You opened the door to your room and leaned against it with a smile. “Try and get some rest, will you?”

“You too, Y/N.” He peered behind you into the room, and you followed his gaze to where the book laid on your desk.

“…did you want to read?” You were sure sleep wouldn’t come easily and Liu seemed reluctant to leave. You were reluctant to let him go.

“Are you sure? It’s late.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Liu didn’t ask twice and so you opened the door the rest of the way and allowed him inside with you. You sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, and Liu picked up the book and joined you at your side. His familiar voice was like a lullaby and only a few minutes past before you were drifting in and out of sleep with your head on his shoulder. If Liu noticed, he didn’t say anything or move you. He kept reading. Before you knew it, you were out cold.

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joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

Righting The Wrongs

Chapter Eight of We Are One When Together

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17k (yes, I know, I’m sorry)

Summary: Reader must face her past, and also deal with something they weren’t prepared to do... be without Mando.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex (like... almost causing bruising so read with caution), oral sex (both female and male receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, shower sex, hair pulling, aftercare, a little bit of violence, angst (as per usual),

A/N: I make shit up about using the force lol. also, my knowledge of coruscant is based off tcw and the prequels so if there’s something in here that doesn’t fit with the books or whatever, be nice :)

“Who are we meeting here?”

“Someone I used to work with.”

As you make your way through the streets of Level 1313, you’re almost trembling with nerves. It’s a little over a year since you’ve been on this planet and you had been avoiding coming back ever since.

Firstly, Coruscant is way too populated for your liking. The streets are always filled with people, no matter the time of day. Crime lords, spice lords, rookies trying to make a living—legally or illegally, families seeking refuge; nearly every single person from all walks of life eventually made their way to Coruscant, overcrowding the streets and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Secondly, the lower levels of Coruscant basically have their own crime empire. Every illegal thing you could possibly think of existed here. The black market thrived, and the smuggling business was always booming. Despite your old profession being one of the very empires that fueled this economy, you didn’t like the idea of living and breathing that life. There was always a need to get away, forget about the job for a couple weeks and then, when you were itching for the thrill, you’d eventually return. Unlike you, your crew would live out their days here, getting high and drinking more than their own body weight in alcohol.

Thirdly, the last time you were here… didn’t really end well. In your defense, it wasn’t your fault that a shootout ensued—you were just trying to get the right amount of payment for the right amount of work. It’s not your fault they disagreed and resorted to shooting their way out of the deal, and it’s definitely not your fault a few of them died…

Needless to say, Coruscant was just another planet that you ended up leaving on rough terms.

Mando stays by your side as you walk together, so close in fact that your arms keep brushing against each other as you trek through the lower levels of the city. Even during the day, there’s very little light down here. You’ve ever only known what it’s like to live so deep underground and sometimes you’d daydream about what a life in the upper levels looked like. Do they live as extravagant as you imagine they do? You were told by a few drunk strangers in cantinas that the people who lived in the upper levels lived in huge apartments, way bigger than they ever needed to. Was that true? The idea of someone living in a home that actually overlooks the Coruscant skyline is something you can’t even wrap your head around. You’re convinced anyone who lives up there sold their soul for it. There can’t be another reason for it.

Upon arriving, Mando thought it was best to leave the kid on the ship. You—on the other hand, noted that the safest place for him is with you two. Besides, trusting that Grogu wouldn’t get himself into trouble while you’re both gone is a risk neither of you should be willing to take. Reluctantly, he gave in and now the kid is sitting in the makeshift pouch Mando made for him.

“Mando, I don’t like this,” you mumble under your breath.

“Neither do I, but we don’t really have a choice,” he replies, keeping his visor fixated on what’s in front of him. “You can go back to the ship with the kid, if you want.”

“And leave you here alone? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Realistically, you’re both aware Mando can handle his own in whatever could happen, but over your time together, you two have become somewhat of a unit. One doesn’t leave without the other. It’s an unspoken thing—no one bothered to mention it but also, neither of you have denied the company.

Ever since Mando’s confession, there’s definitely been a shift in your relationship.

The biggest change is that he’s become much more vocal. He shares his opinions more openly, he engages in conversation a lot more, and he’s not shy about showing you small displays of affection whenever he wants. When he moves passed you on the Crest, his hand always touches the small of your back or your hand if it’s within reach.

He’s also been a lot more engaging with Grogu. You can’t help but notice that whenever he holds him, Mando flexes his finger so that the kid can wrap his little claws around it. He speaks to Grogu a lot more and in turn, the kid mumbles incoherently back at him, as if Mando can understand him.

It’s probably only been two days since Mando’s opened up to you about his favorite color—although you can’t be sure because time in hyperspace tends to blend together, but there’s been a lifetime amount of change that’s happened since and seeing him become more open and giving around both you and Grogu just reminds you of that softer side to Mando that he doesn’t share with many people.

As you look around and take in your surroundings, the streets begin to look extremely familiar. On your left, you see the diner you used to frequent with your old crew. They had some of the best sliders you’ve ever had. Even thinking about it now makes your stomach rumble.

Maybe you could pop in for a quick meal. You’re about to tell Mando about it but catch yourself just before you do.

He doesn’t take the helmet off. Kriff, how could you forget something so blatantly obvious. You haven’t even seen his face yet and for just a split second you thought he’d take his helmet off in a room full of people just to eat with you?

Stupid.

Shaking the thought of your mind, you try to ignore the sudden ache you feel in your chest.

“We’re close,” you hear Mando say and your previous thought is wiped from your mind. It’s now that you realize which cantina you’ve been walking towards, and when you turn the corner and see it, your heart drops.

The cantina you’re meeting this person Mando used to work with is unfortunately the very same cantina you used to celebrate with your squad after a successful spice run. A night full of drinking that usually ended with some random typical bar fight. Words spoken, blasters drawn, and the very rare shootout. Regardless of the night outcome, you were always back in the cantina the next night like nothing happened.

As you near the door, your feet suddenly feel like durasteel, gravity pulling you into the ground, stopping you from taking another step forward. Your heart is already in your stomach, heating your body up with haste. Stars, you haven’t been here in so kriffing long, and the possibility of getting smacked in the face with your past is something you didn’t plan.

Mando seems to sense your tentativeness because he turns his body to face you, his hand catching your forearm. “Are you okay?”

Trying to reassure him, the corners of your mouth curl into what could be considered a smile, although your eyes are screaming to leave.

Wherever he goes, you go, you remind yourself.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, passing him and squaring your shoulders just as the cantina door slides up. It’s in the early evening hours, so it isn’t too populated inside—just some of the regulars you’ve noticed that are always there, no matter what time of the day it is. Trying your best not to draw any attention to yourself, you drop your head down slightly, eyes shifting around the room, hoping you won’t catch sight of anyone who might know who you are.

Your attempts to be subtle are gone with the wind once Mando enters. The energy changes straightaway. All the chatter goes deafeningly quiet as a dozen heads turn towards you and having so many eyes on you causes your cheeks to heat up. For a moment, you had forgotten that travelling with a Mandalorian causes heads to turn and voices to hush. Of course, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride whenever you see strangers make the connection that you and Mando are together, but it’s quickly followed by major anxiety. Being stealthy and trying to keep to the shadows is damn near impossible when there’s a man standing next to you covered in what is arguably the most reflective durasteel in the galaxy.

“No fucking way,” you hear someone exclaim. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you turn your head in direction of the voice and see a female Twi’lek coming right for you. “Is that really you?”

“Dank farrik,” you mumble before they’re within listening range. Mando’s helmet cranes towards you.

“I thought you were dead!” Their arms wrap around your torso before you can even process what’s happening.

“Hey, Sula.”

“Stars, is that really you?” Another voice beckons, a hand clamping down on your shoulder, “You here for a job?” The male Rodian asks.

“Nah, not this time Odas,” you answer, angling your neck in the direction of the Mandalorian standing just a few inches away from you.

“Holy shit. A Mandalorian?”

“I’ll leave you to it,” The modulator informs you, and then he’s sauntering over to the bar. It’s not lost on you that for the first time in days, he’s left without reaching out to touch you in some way. Fortunately, you don’t have time to dwell on it before someone’s talking to you again.

“Come have a drink,” Odas begins to say, “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

Your eyes drift off to look at Mando who’s in the middle of speaking to the droid behind the bar.

“Uh—” Before you can kindly decline the offer, Sula grabs onto your wrist and nearly drags you over to the table they were all previously sitting at. Already seated is Venka, a nasty piece of work. You haven’t worked with many Trandoshans, but the ones you have worked with were ruthless and dangerous. Each of them wanted blood, no matter what the situation was.

Odas pulls a chair from a nearby table and gestures for you to sit. Unenthusiastically, you slide into the seat.

“Everyone said the New Republic got your ass. Glad to see we were wrong,” Odas says with a smile, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.

“Travelling with a Mandalorian? How the hell did that happen?” Sula asks.

“I didn’t even know there were any Mandalorians left,” Venka mutters, clearly peeved about something.

“How much are you paying him to protect you?”

“What?” Eyebrows pulling closely together, you look over to Odas quizzically.

“She’s probably paying him in other ways, if you know what I mean,” Sula laughs, bumping her elbow against your arm.

“Oh, shut up, Sula. It’s not like that.”

Odas props his elbows on the table and leans in closer towards you. “Then do tell us how you managed to slip through the New Republic’s grip and then somehow get a Mandalorian by your side, because they’re like the—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard the stories. ‘Best warriors in the galaxy’. So, they say anyway,” Venka hisses through his snout.

“Still hate them, huh?” Sula jests.

“I just don’t see it. Apparently, they’re the best warriors in the galaxy yet the Empire wiped them all out.”

“If that were true, there wouldn’t be one standing just over there,” your finger points to Mando still standing at the bar.

“Oh, okay,” Sula throws her hands up in defense. “We get it, you’re with him now.”

All of a sudden, you hear Mando’s voice coming from the commlink in your ear. “Stay here. I’m going to meet them in the back.”

Your body stills, wanting to get up and join in but knowing you can’t very well just get up and leave your old friends without so much as another word. As ridiculous as it seems, you feel like you owe it to them to stick around for a bit.

“Are you all waiting for the next job?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the fact that Mando’s just gone off on his own. He can handle himself; you repeat in your head.

“Yeah, supposed to take off at first light,” Odas answers before throwing back a glass of red liquor.

“Still room on the ship, if you want to join.”

“Thanks, Sula, but I’m pretty much done with smuggling.”

Venka all but chokes on his beverage. “Kriffing hell, you’re kidding.”

Shaking your head slowly and lips pressing into a thin line, “It’s just not for me, anymore,” you say, glaring at him.

“Not for you?” He grits out.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You snap, feeling the annoyance itching inside you.

“Okay, let’s just take it down a notch, all right? We’re just a couple of old friends catching up. That’s all,” Sula interjects, in hopes to deescalate the situation.

Venka rolls his eyes before finishing his drink, swallowing it with a snarl. Why are Trandoshans so aggressive with everything that they do?

Sula clears her throat to ask, “So, what are you doing back here? Last time you were here, I believe you said, ‘I refuse to return to this shithole of a planet’.”

“I’m sure we’ve all said that about this kriffing planet at least once or twice, but we always find our way back, don’t we?” Odas says to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m not really sure why we’re here—” You start to say but are cut off by Venka.

“So, your partner doesn’t bother keeping you informed? How nice.”

“Oh, shut up, Venka. You’re so negative,” Sula scolds.

Turning your attention to him with poison in your eyes, you ask him, “What’s your problem?”

He slams his cup on the table, red liquid spilling all over the surface. It’s not uncommon for him to try and pick a fight, so you’re not entirely surprised by his behavior right now. You’ve only ever lost your temper on him once and Tye was able to pull you away before something really bad happened.

“You’re seriously going to come back here as if you did nothing wrong? Everyone—and I mean everyone here, was worried about you, and not a single fucking one of us received a hologram from you saying you weren’t in prison.

“And when Tye told us that a kriffing Mandalorian snatched you up, we thought ‘she’s a goner’. But here you are, parading him around here like a fucking trophy.”

Caught up in the moment, you almost miss what Venka’s just told you. “Wait, Tye’s alive?”

“Yeah, he’s alive,” Sula confirms.

“He managed to escape just before your ship exploded. He was pretty fucked up for a while, but he’s a lot stronger than we give him credit for,” Odas admits.

“I… didn’t know,” your voice is low, filled with guilt.

Venka laughs, answering you with derision in his voice. “No fucking shit.”

“I didn’t come here to parade him around. I didn’t even know we’d be coming here,” you explain, then angling your head to Odas, you ask, “Is Tye here?”

Before Odas can answer, Venka speaks up. “Why? So, you can finish the job?”

“Fuck you, Venka.”

Reptilian eyes glower at you, your own are all but seething in anger as you scowl back. Trandoshans—at least the one’s you’ve had the unpleasure of meeting, are always on the prowl for a fight. They purposely get under everyone’s skin in hopes to rile them up. Usually, you’ve been able to keep your anger under control but that was mostly because you had Tye to keep you in check, to bring you back down from a blind rage. Now that he’s not here, you’re sure everyone at this table doesn’t really want a fight but that they’ll happily watch if it comes down to one.

“Excuse yourself. We’re leaving. I’ll meet you outside,” Mando’s voice suddenly cuts into your ear. Thank the Maker.

“Let’s just all calm down, okay?” Odas finally interjects.

“Actually,” you start to say, taking the drink in your cup that you haven’t touched and chugging it all in one gulp, “I have to go. It was nice catching up with you guys, though.”

Once on your feet, you turn on your heel and make for the door. Just as you’re about to head out through the doorway, you hear Venka hiss at you, “Does he at least take helmet off when he fucks you?”

You should ignore him; you should just take the last two steps through the cantina door and disappear. You reallyshouldn’t turn around and punch him square in the face.

But, sometimes, they deserve it. So without another thought, you’re already stomping back over to the table, pushing chairs out of your way as you walk straight up to Venka, and punch him in the nose with so much force, he loses his footing and falls flat on his back. The cantina goes dead silent—everyone staring at you in complete shock.

“Is Tye here?” You ask, chest heaving.

“Uh… yeah, he’s at your old apartment. He’s coming with us on the job,” Sula responds, stunned that you actually just punched Venka in the nose.

“Thanks for the drink,” you say to her before whipping your body around and making your way to the door. It’s not clear, but you think you hear Venka shout something at you, something with the word ‘bitch’ in it, but you’ve already made your point. It’s not worth going back to hear what he has to say.

Looking down at the hand you used to strike him, you notice three of your knuckles are split open, little drops of blood running down your hand. In an effort to conceal this from Mando, you wipe it haphazardly along your thigh, just as you exit the doors.

Mando’s leaning against the door, his hands resting on his belt and once he sees you, he kicks himself off the duracrete wall to stand.

“What happened?” He asks, taking note of how erratic your breathing is. When the visor looks down at your hands, he grabs hold of your wrist, pulling your hand to him and inspecting the small gashes on your knuckles.

“It’s nothing,” you attempt to assume him, trying to jerk your arm out of his grip, but Mando’s much stronger than you, so he pulls your hand closer to his cuirass.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I really don’t want to get into it.”

His sigh breaks up in his helmet and you know he wants to press you again, but he ultimately doesn’t. “You took care of it?”

“I did.”

“Good,” he answers tentatively, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze and then letting go, starting to head for the hangar. You linger for a moment, staring down at your busted up hand and watching the tiny droplets of blood bead down your skin.

Fucking Trandoshans, you think to yourself.

As you stroll through the crowded streets, mulling over the conversation you had with your old friends, you quickly realize that if Tye really is here, you need to see him. You need to explain why you did what you did or didn’t do, as well as show him that you’re okay. Actually, that you’re more than okay. You’re the best you’ve ever felt which makes you feel incredibly guilty.

“Mando,” you call out because he’s a few feet ahead of you. He stops in his tracks and waits for you to catch up to him.

“There’s something I need to do before I go back.”

Grogu coos worriedly, his ears drooping.

“I’ll be okay, little guy,” you assure him, simultaneously trying to convince Mando the same.

Mando shakes his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll leave the commlink open,” you say in an effort to ease his apprehension.

“No,” he says more sternly, the modulator dangerously low.

“Two hours. That’s all I’m asking for. If in two hours I don’t check in, feel free to tear this city apart looking for me, but I need to do this and I need to do this alone.”

Mando sighs begrudgingly, the sound breaking apart through the helmet. “Fine. Two hours.”

You mouth ‘thank you’ before disappearing through a crowd of people, and then darting down a dark alley.

With your hand hovering over your blaster, you slip through various streets and alleys on your way to the apartment you and Tye shared in between jobs. Every step you take makes your heart race faster, the reality of the situation sinking in. You hadn’t even taken the time to consider that Tye might not even want to see you. The last time you spoke, you hadn’t parted on good terms and now that he probably knows you’re still alive… it’s not going to be an easy conversation.

When you turn the corner onto the street of the apartment, you’re practically quivering. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage, palms are sweating, and you think about turning around. No one would know you were here if you left. The chances of you coming back to Coruscant after this are slim to none—you could do it.

No.

You have to stop running away from things that need to be faced. You’ve been running your entire life, trying to keep yourself busy in an attempt to forget about your responsibilities. Truthfully, you’re tired of running away. It’s time to right your wrongs.

Once you reach the building, your eyes slam shut and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through your lips and head inside. Climbing up the stairs slowly, you hold onto the railing to steady yourself. The anxiety is really getting to you, now.

Was this a bad idea?

Fuck.

To your surprise, the door is open. Either it’s been abandoned, or you think he’s expecting you. Feet hovering in the doorframe, the pounding in your ears is damn near deafening but you press on, taking a step forward and then another and then another until you’re standing in the hallway of the apartment. The door hisses shut behind you, causing you to jump at the sudden sound.

The place is almost unrecognizable. The furniture in the sitting room is flipped upside down, shards of broken transparisteel littered around the room, and the room’s so dark, you can barely see a thing. The only light source illuminated the room is coming from the outside lamp posts, highlighting the disaster that’s displayed in front of your eyes. You begin chewing on the inside of your cheek, becoming more aware of the possible danger you’ve just walked into.

“So, you’re alive,” you hear in the darkness.

“Tye?” You ask aloud, eyes shifting around the room, trying to locate where the voice came from.

A silhouette appears from the kitchen, illuminated by the outside light fixtures. The shadow look like him, but it also doesn’t. The voice sounds like Tye, but its’ darker, rougher.

“Kriff, you’re actually here.”

You take a couple steps forward, stopping just shy of the counter that separates the kitchen from the seating area. Tye stands in the kitchen, hands pressing into the marble surface, taking you in. As his features become clearer, your breath catches in your throat.

Your best friend since you were a child. The one person that’s saved your life more times than you can count. The single person in this galaxy that has been with you through the darkest moments in your life. The person you thought you had seen die right before your eyes, standing just a few feet away from you.

There’s a darkness in his eyes that you don’t recognize. His eyes were a gentle, warm shade of green that made others gravitate towards him. They used to bring you comfort; you could be at your lowest and then when you’d look up at him, you’d feel at ease.

Now when you look at them, all you see are broken fragments of tainted memories. Like all the pain and suffering he’s endured in the last few months has been bundled up and are now locked in his eyes for everyone to see.

You want to reach out, but something’s stopping you. There’s not a single thing you recognize about him. Hair that was once blonde is gone, shaved off. His shoulders are more sunken too. He used to hold himself with such confidence, not unlike the kind of strut that Mando carries himself with. Tye’s cheekbones are more pronounced as well, and it worries you that he’s begun using spice more than he used to.

Unsurprisingly, it was somewhat normal for smugglings get high on the supply they were trafficking, and you’ve seen Tye do it from time to time. You—on the other hand, never did. You had seen what it could do to its abusers, and you knew better than to do something that foolish. It was kind of a twisted morality code. Willing to smuggle it and let others abuse it, and yet you thought you were above using it yourself.

“What happened to you?” You ask him, completely in disbelief that this is what Tye has become.

“They said you were back, but I didn’t believe them,” he murmurs, his voice so low that you barely catch what he says, his gaze fixated towards the ground.

Maker, even the way he talks is different. Tye had the bubbliest of characters. He was larger than life, his voice echoed in every room he was in, boisterous and kind. The type of intonation that was infectious. Now, his voice is rough, it’s terse—like all the joy has been sucked out of him and now there’s just a hollow sound left.

This isn’t the man you grew up with.

The thought makes you nauseous.

Did you do this to him?

Are you the reason he’s so… different?

“Why didn’t you tell me or anyone that you were okay?” He nearly croaks.

Guilt overwhelms you. “I… thought you were dead.”

Tye lets out a noise that’s similar to a laugh, but you know damn well he means anything but that. He takes a step back, rubbing the back of his head and takes a sharp breath.

“You could have sent someone a hologram. You could have come back to Kijimi. Stars, you could have come here but you didn’t.”

Your jaw hangs, trying to find the words that might justify why exactly you didn’t tell anyone that you were never arrested, but whatever reason you come up with hangs on your tongue, unable to actually speak. It all just happened so fast.

“I had to hear from fucking Sula that you were—not only alive, but that you’re actually fucking traveling with the same Mandalorian that hunt you down. The one that shot me out of the kriffing sky,” his anger grows with every word.

“All these months, I blamed myself for what happened. I thought ‘she’s probably dead by now and that’s on me. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed’.” He rambles, voice cracking.

“I fucked up, Tye and I’m sorry, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t intend for any of this happen. Everything happened so fast, I couldn’t…” Your voice trails off, too many thoughts racing to your mind, unable to sift through them and think of a coherent explanation.

“Why are you with him?”

“He… saved my life, Tye.”

Tye crosses his arms against his chest, scoffing. “What?”

And so, you tell what happened. You tell him about Nevarro, about the Empire, about what Ahsoka told you. As you explain everything, Tye’s expression changes from resentment to almost disbelief.

“A Jedi?”

“If I wanted to train… yeah.”

“Well fuck, look at you,” he mocks.

“Don’t patronize me, I’m trying to explain myself.”

Tye holds his hands out in defense. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Wringing your hands, you wait for him to say something else… but he doesn’t. He stares at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something else.

“So… what does this mean for us, now?” Your voice is soft, hoping there’s some possibility of reconciliation.

“There is no ‘us’ anymore,” he says lowly.

“Okay, I half expected that…” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck absentmindedly.

Not surprising.

“Did you really think that you could come back here and give me some bullshit excuse and expect us to be friends again? After the shit you put me through?”

“I guess not.”

Tye says nothing else, keeping the same expression on his face. Betrayal, pain, anger. It’s all staring you right in the face.

“Time’s up,” Mando’s gruff voice whispers in your ear.

Cursing to the Maker, you want more time. There has to be something else you can say to him that’ll better explain why you didn’t ask anybody if he was still alive but then you realize, you just didn’t do enough. Quite frankly, you did nothing. You should have done something, you could have done something but ultimately, you didn’t and that’s something you’ll just have to life with.

“I should head back,” you tell Tye, who just shrugs at you. Turning on your heel, you look over your shoulder to see him still standing in the kitchen. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Please say something, you say to yourself as you make for the doorway.

He doesn’t.

“Everything all right?” Mando asks you as soon as you’re walking up the ramp.

“Yeah,” is all you answer.

He doesn’t press you, taking note of the way you’re clearly not in the mood for chatter.

You prop your elbows atop one of the crates, leaning on it and staring down at the ground. Feeling guilty about bringing down the energy inside the Crest, you find yourself trying to make conversation, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“What happened with your friend at the cantina?”

“They need me to do a job, and then we’ll have enough credits to pay for the fuel we’ll need in order to get to Tython.”

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “What kind of job?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be staying here with the kid.” He answers dryly.

Stunned, you push off the crate and turn your body to him, facing Mando head on and crossing your arms across your chest.

“Is there a problem?” He asks, taking in your body language.

“What if you need help?”

“It’s a four-person job. They had three before I agreed.”

“Which means you’ll be outnumbered if something goes wrong,” you retort, eyebrow cocked.

“I need you to stay with the kid.”

You clamp down on your jaw, tapping your foot on the ground while you consider his last words. “I don’t like this, at all.”

“You don’t have to, but it isn’t up for discussion.”

“But—”

“No.”

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you know he’s right. It is safer for someone to be with the kid and it’s not exactly like you can do the job instead. Once again, you’re stuck following Mando’s orders.

“So then, when do you head out?”

“Soon. I should be back before morning,” he answers, rummaging through his armory.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Sleeping in the cockpit.”

“Mmm,” you hum in the back of your throat. Noticing Mando’s back stiffen, he takes one of the blasters off the wall, and inspects it.

As you watch him examine his weapons and take in the way he twitched hearing you purr, a cunning thought crosses your mind.

Since he refuses to let you come along, you want to give him a reason to be counting down the minutes until he’s back with you on the Crest. It’s not that you want him distracted, but the possessive side of you wants him to be constantly reminded that you’ll be waiting here—for him.

Without trying to be discrete, you saunter over to the armory, making sure to graze his arm against yours as you pass by him to pick up one of the multiple blasters hanging on the wall. Holding it your hand, you twist the gun around, in an unbashful attempt to get his attention, puffing your chest out as you stare down at the weapon in your hand. You can feel the visor on you, but you don’t look up. Instead, your gaze stays glued to what’s in your palm, knowing Mando’s studying you carefully, like he’s trying to understand what you’re trying to do.

Putting the gun back on its placeholder, you saunter passed him, the tips of your fingers hooking onto his cape, stroking the fabric between your fingers, then dropping it as you head over to the small closet where the ration packs are kept.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

Turning around to look at him, you cross your arms along your chest and with the most innocent tone you can, your tongue darts across your bottom lip and then whisper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mando tilts his head and lets out a deep breath that scratches through the modulator, but he makes no move on you. Rather, he goes back to inspecting the weapon that’s sitting on one of the higher crates.

Okay… so you’ll have to be more unsubtle. Craning your neck to either side, you let out a small groan as you hear your bones crack, but once again, Mando’s visor stays peeled to the gun. Starting to get annoyed at the lack of attention he’s giving you, you start to wonder if you should pull back, give up and wait until he comes back in the morning, but honestly? You don’t want to give up. You know you can seduce him; you just need to find the right trigger. Feeling some courage and boldness suddenly overcome you, your feet bring you over to where Mando is standing, and come up right next to him, leaning back on the crate and propping your elbows on the crate behind you, puffing your chest out even more to showcase your breasts. He glances over at you for just a moment and clears his throat. “What?”

“Nothing,” you answer with a devilish smile. You’re almost close enough for your arms to brush against each other, but you stop yourself from closing the gap.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he tells you, voice strained and tight.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“No.”

Inching yourself closer to him, your hand grazes the vambrace on his right arm. He makes no sound, but by the way his chest puffs in and out, you know you’re getting under his skin, and that makes you even bolder. With your right hand, you grab onto his vambrace and slide between him and the wooden crate, essentially pinning yourself between the two. Mando groans deeply, his head craning to the left, exposing just the smallest amount of skin as he does. Stars, even just the sight of his neck causes you to squirm, rubbing your thighs together.

“Not enough time,” he pleads, nearly fucking panting.

“Mmm,” you whine back, bringing both your hands to grab at his waist, digging your fingernails into the fabric just above his utility belt. When Mando doesn’t pull away, you slide one of your legs between his, feeling his growing erection against your knee. His visor looks down at you and you can’t help but bite your lip in an attempt to hide the smug smile from forming. His hands are on either side of your body, pressing into the wood so hard you can hear it crackling under his firm grip.

Leaning into his body, your neck cranes upwards and you’re forced to go on the tips of your toes to whisper into the side of his helmet where his ear would be, “If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

“Fuck…” is all he manages to say, and then you’re slowly dropping to your knees, your face aligning with the bulge in his pants.

Your hands fumble down to the utility belt, but through hooded lids, you continue to look into Mando’s visor. Unhooking the belt, you push his flak vest out of your way and find the waistband to his trousers. Mouth practically watering, you swallow hard, and finally tear your eyes away to look at the bulge between his legs. Your pussy gushes as one of your hands push against the waistband to cup him inside his pants. Mando jerks forward at the touch, a guttural groan etching through the vocoder.

“Stars…”

You pull his pants down just enough for his cock and balls to spring free, and your jaw fucking drops at the sight. This is the first time you’re seeing him, truly seeing him. In that alley on Tatooine, it was too dark for you to be able to observe him, but now? Fuck, he’s a goddamn sight.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how fucking big he is, it’s a shock he’s able to fit all of himself inside you. Steadying him by wrapping your hand around him at the base, you take a moment to appreciate him. Mando’s uncut with just tip of his head poking through. There’s a bead of precome forming from the tip, and you dart your tongue passed your lips to lap it up, the taste of him on your tongue makes you hum.

Your free hand settles on his thigh, while the other begins to slowly stroke up and down his length, licking up every bit of precome that oozes from the tip.

“Ah, shit… Feels so go—” He begins to say but is cut off by you engulfing his entire length in your mouth.

Mando grazes the back of your throat, and your body tenses, fighting the urge to gag. You pull away from him slowly, hallowing your cheeks as you feel every vein of his cock until he slips through your lips with a loud, wet pop. Your tongue darts along your bottom lip, coating it with saliva before taking him once again. Repeating the process a few more times, and feeling Mando writhe from your slow taunt, he unexpectedly becomes impatient. His hips grind against you, practically begging for more. He’s entirely at your mercy, being the one in control right now is making you dizzy. To see someone as strong and commanding as Mando practically mewling because of you is sending you on a power-trip.

When you take him in your mouth again, instead of pulling away, you begin bobbing your head up and down his cock, the wet sounds echoing through the Crest walls. Already, you’re getting better at taking him into your mouth without gagging as much. Because of his size, you do end up gagging a couple times, your body tensing as he grazes the back of your throat, but you press on, because hearing Mando praise you over and over is intoxicating.

“Kriff, your mouth feels so fucking good… fuck… makes me want to bend you over his crate and fuck you until you’re begging to come.”

Hearing him only spurs you on, guiding him as far as he can go, and letting him just sit in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his girth, precome dripping down your throat. It’s salty, but it’s also the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted in your life. A mixture of saliva and precome dribbles down your chin, but you continue to swallow as much of him as you possibly can, nothing’s going to stop you from making him come like this.

Your panties are fucking soaking now, pussy throbbing and damn near hurting from the lack of touch. All your concentration is being focused on making Mando feel good, and he knows it. He knows this is for him, and he’s reveling in it.

“I bet you’re so fucking wet right now, pretty girl,” he pants, placing one of his hands behind your head and cradling it gently as he begins to fuck your mouth. Just as you start to feel him twitch inside you, a faint alarm begins to ring, and you feel him still.

He has to leave.

“I-I ha-ave to go,” he whimpers, your lips still firmly wrapped around his cock.

But you don’t stop. When you feel him try to pull away, your hands grab onto his hips, digging your fingers into him and trying your hardest to keep him right where he is, and begin sucking him even faster, bobbing your head up and down his length at a quicker pace.

“Oh fuck… that feels so fucking good.”

The alarm is still ringing, but you don’t care. You’ll make damn sure he’ll come, you just need a few more minutes…

He holds your shoulders, keeping you in place and then he’s backing away from you. His cock slips through your lips, leaving a trail of spit behind that falls down your chin. Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Mando hooks his arms under yours and lifts you to your feet, only to spin you around and push you against the crate, bending you over, the gun falling to the ground.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He growls at you, grabbing the waistband of your pants and pulling them down to your knees. “I have to leave.”

Your chest is heaving, arousal making your head spin as you wait impatiently for what he’ll do next. “So, go,” you mutter breathlessly.

“You want me to leave?” He taunts. You hear something light hit the ground, and then he’s pushing your underwear to the side and cupping your sex with calloused fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, the touch already relieving some of the building pressure.

“Maker, you’re fucking soaked,” he admires, and then he’s sticking two thick fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them and hitting that spot inside you that nearly blinds you. Jerking forwards, your stomach digs into the blunt edge of the crate, but feeling Mando’s fingers fuck you overpowers the discomfort. It’s desperate, it’s rough, and hurried but that makes it all so much more exhilarating.

“I’m gonna c-come,” you pant into surface, almost surprised at how close your orgasm is.

Mando suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out of you and smearing your slick all over your entrance and clit.

The tip of his cock pokes your entrance, but he doesn’t move. He strokes himself between your folds, teasing you. “I have to go,” he groans.

You grind your hips against him, and push your ass out, arching your back in the hope that he’ll slide inside you, and to your surprise, he does. He aligns his hips with yours and slams right into you, pushing you further up the crate, fully sheathing himself between your walls.

He wastes no time fucking you, holding both your shoulders and jackhammering into you so hard, there’s no fucking air in your lungs. Your feeble whimpers are breathless and empty, jaw fully slack as he continues to wreck your cunt.

“Mando? Where the hell are you?” A voice comes from the commlink on his vambrace.

“Fuck,” he growls, somehow quickening his pace and driving you fucking insane. You don’t even know how close you are to coming until it’s ripping through you, almost making you convulse underneath him, sobbing brokenly into the air. Your fingernails are digging into the wood so violently, you hear it splinter. Knees buckling, you’re already completely spent, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re supposed to be here by now. Mando, where the fuck are you?”

Grinding his hips even more into your ass, he bends over so his cuirass is pressed against your back, his cock hitting a part inside you that only he knows how to touch. You’re so fucking full, a second orgasm is moments away if he continues to fuck you from this angle.

“Do you see what you do to me? Ah—shit, I’m supposed to be with them, but—fuck, instead I’m here,” He snarls in your ear, the side of his helmet grazing your cheek.

Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, feeling his body weight press you into the hard surface, and his cock driving you fucking wild. Your mind is blank, your throat is bone dry—unable say a fucking word. You’re helpless underneath him.

“Pretty girl, you’re going to be the death of me.”

His weight leaves you, and then he’s grabbing both your hands, crossing your arms behind your back and holding them in place with one hand. He starts a pace so mind-blowing hard, pounding his cock inside you and hitting your cervix with every thrust. It’s the most delicious pain you’ve ever experienced. If it were anyone else, you’d tell them to stop, but this is Mando. He knows what you can and can’t handle better than you do, so you let him slam into you at a grueling speed. You can hear his balls slap against your skin, and another orgasm begins to form deep in your belly.

He grinds into you a few more times and then he’s somehow burying himself even more inside you, and you snap. A second orgasm splits you apart, whatever pathetic noise comes out of you is drowned out by Mando’s guttural groan as he reaches his own climax, his cock pulsing as his seed is pumped deep inside you.

“Mando!” The male voice shouts once again through the commlink.

Even though you’re entirely spent, a laugh escapes you. He’s just completely ignored someone calling him just so he could finish fucking you.

“Coming,” he responds curtly, pulling out of you quickly and tucking himself back in his pants.

You don’t expect Mando to linger any longer than he absolutely needs to, so with the very little strength you have left and using your palms, you push yourself upright, knees shaking profusely, and to your surprise, he grabs the waistband of your pants and begins tugging them back up your legs.

“Mmm, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” you try to assure him, but he doesn’t listen. He shimmies them back up until they’re around your waist, and then he’s turning you to face him.

“I have to go,” he tells you, and you sense some regret in his voice. He doesn’t want to leave, either.

“I know,” you smile at him, sheepishly.

Mando reaches out, both of his hands cupping the sides of your face and presses the helmet against your forehead. The coolness of the beskar feels amazing against your hot skin. He lets out a deep breath, baritone dangerously low as it comes up tight through the helmet. You press back into him, closing your eyes and taking in this sweet, tender moment. Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils, the smell of beskar and Mando’s own scent—a mix of soap that you’ve grown used to smelling on yourself, as well as hints of sweetness and musk, almost drowns you but in the best fucking way possible.

“Come back in one piece, okay?”

He doesn’t respond, only continues to hold your face in his hands. Time seems to still, and for a fraction of a second, it’s just you and him. It’s somehow the most intimate moment you’ve shared. Without saying a word, you say your good-bye’s and watch him head down the ramp, waiting until he’s no longer in sight before heading the fresher.

It’s been a couple hours since Mando left, and you hate to admit it, but you miss him… like a lot. Definitely more than you should. Come to think of it, this is the first time since Kijimi that you’ve been away from each other for this long. Ever since then, you’ve been beside each other, or at the very least knew where the other was, but right now? You have no idea where he is, who he’s with or how long he’ll be gone, and you’re driving yourself crazy.

You keep commlink open—just in case anything goes wrong, he’ll be able to contact you and while you pray to the Maker that nothing does go wrong, you can’t help but wish to hear his voice through the little speaker.

A simple check-in would instantly calm your nerves, but you know better than to call him yourself. He could be hiding; he could be in the middle of a gunfight. The last thing he needs is hearing your voice asking him if everything is okay and distracting him. Needless to say, the negatives outweigh the positives, so you continue to pace anxiously up and down the galley of the ship, waiting to hear that intoxicating voice of his.

The kid’s been up for the last half an hour, babbling to himself with that kriffing ball in his grip. You feel bad for him, being stuck in this hunk of metal all the time but risking both of your safeties just for a little walk around is simply not worth it. The quicker Mando gets the job done, the sooner you’ll be off Coruscant and on your way to Tython.

You could try to get some sleep, but you know damn well you’ll be tossing and turning in the cot, anxiously waiting to hear his voice on the commlink.

There has to be something you can do that’ll keep your mind occupied…

Grogu looks up at you in your lap, cocking his head to the side as his ears peak up at you, and then you get an idea.

Ahsoka had told you Grogu was trained at the Jedi Temple for years before being forced into hiding, and since you’re both bored, this could be the perfect time to practice. Albeit, you have no idea what you’re doing, but anything is better than sitting around waiting for Mando’s return.

At first, you consider staying within the Crest, but there isn’t nearly enough room, and quite frankly, you know the two of you could benefit from not being locked up in the ship. Picking Grogu up into your arms, and grabbing your blaster, you make for the ramp and descend it. The hangar is empty, now. The owner’s retreated for the night, so you don’t have to worry about being watched.

The hangar itself is much larger than Peli’s. Easily twice the size, and it’s located on a large platform that overlooks the underworld portal. It’s the perfect place for a quick getaway and doubles as a scenic view.

Sometimes between jobs, you’d come to one of these various hangars and spend hours just looking at the steady flow of traffic coming in and out of the lower levels. You’d sit on the edge of the hangar; feet dangling in the air and stare up in amazement that something this vast could exist in the galaxy. Thousands of different beings travelling through this canal, beings you’ll never know or see again, but being aware that each of them had their own life, their own struggles and triumphs, all travelling in the same place at the same time is almost hard to wrap your head around.

You settle Grogu on a nearby table and place your blaster just to his right, making sure to turn the safety on.

“Grogu,” you say softly, holding your hand out face up at him. “Give me the ball.”

He hesitates at first, pulling the ball closer to his chest, but you continue to coax him, speaking gently until he finally places it in your hand.

“Thanks, little guy,” smiling and wiggling your finger in front of him, you then take a couple steps back.

You could try to push the stone to him, but you haven’t the slightest idea how to do that, so instead you opt to get Grogu to take the ball from your hand. Holding the ball between your thumb and index, you begin to sweet-talk him into taking the ball from you.

“Okay, let’s do this, kid. Can you take the ball out of my hand?”

His head moves from side to side and his arms reach out as far as they can, cooing happily.

“Come on, you did it with Mando. I know you can do it.”

Squinting his eyes momentarily, his hands start to twist and all of a sudden, the stone flies from your hand into his. The baby squeals with excitement, showing you the sphere in his grip with pride, and then resumes sucking on the durasteel, no longer interested in what you had planned to keep you two busy.

You smile to yourself, amazed that this little creature can do things that you would have never anticipated. The thought of reuniting him with a Jedi and the possibility of having to say good-bye breaks your heart. You’ve grown such an attachment to him. Seeing him every day, feeding him, playing with him, watching his little face light up whenever you give him the ball, and even seeing the gentleness in Mando that Grogu exudes from him, it’s all things you’ll miss dearly.

Looking down at your palm, you wonder if you’ll also be able to wield the Force and carry something over into your hand. Eyes meeting the blaster that’s resting to Grogu’s left, you begin trying to clear your mind and focus only on the gun and bringing it into your grip. Extending your arm as far as it can, you take a deep breath and exhale through slightly parted lips, furrowing your eyebrows as your concentration on the blaster grows. All the white noise suddenly drowns out, hearing only the steady thumping of the blood in your ears. Your fingers are shaking but the gun doesn’t budge. It stays completely still on the table.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, your arm drops to your side. Maker, you know it’s possible, you’ve done it before during a fight, but of course the one time you actually try to do it without having the threat of death, you’re unable to get that kriffing blaster in your hand.

Squaring your shoulders, you close your eyes and once again try to clear your mind, focusing only on the Force—feeling it flow through your body, harnessing its power, and bending it to your will. In an attempt to steady your heartbeat, you take, deep, long burning inhales, feeling your lungs expand as much as they can, holding the breath for a few seconds, and ever so slowly letting exhaling through your nose, all the while keeping your eyes closed and maintaining your focus on the Force.

You crane your neck from side to side and roll your shoulders a couple times and then your arm slowly raises once again, lining up with the blaster, and transfer all the power you feel inside you to the palm of your hand, and then to the tips of your fingers. You can picture the blaster in your head. The soft curve of the handle that connects to its clip, the narrow barrel pointed in your direction. As you continue to piece the weapon together in your mind, you start to feel a strong current flow through your veins to the palm of your hand. It’s more powerful than anything you’ve felt before, and yet it doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Instead, it feels empowering and familiar. When you finally open your eyes, they shift to your hand and your jaw damn near drops.

The blaster is in your hand, fingers wrapped around the handle tightly. Bringing it closer to your chest, you examine the gun as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen it. Your eyes move between it and the table a couple feet away, completely stunned that you were actually able to do that yourself.

“Did you see that?” You call out to Grogu who’s squealing with joy. You’re not sure if he actually understands why you’re so giddy, but you’d like to think he does anyway.

Making your way over to him, you wiggle your finger in front of him and gently bop him on the nose. Not too far away, you see a piece of scrap durasteel on the floor. Peering down at Grogu, you shrug your shoulders. “Should I try it?”

He coos curiously and you take that as him saying ‘yes’. Repeating what you did previously, you raise your arm in front of you and focus on the small item and inhale through your lips, exhaling through your nostrils. Clearing your mind and only thinking of durasteel, you watch it begin to shake on the ground. Excitement sets in as it slowly lifts off the ground, hovering in the air for just a moment and then, it flies into your hand, causing you to lose your balance from the power of it.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” You exclaim.

“Holy Maker, you weren’t bullshitting me,” you hear behind you. Moving quickly, you drop the durasteel to pick Grogu up in your arms, grabbing your blaster and whipping your body around to point it at the person behind you. Tye lifts his arms, showing he’s empty handed.

“Whoa! Take it easy, I’m unarmed.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you slip the blaster back in its holster on your thigh and take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, and how the hell did you know where I was?”

“I have my ways,” he says, eyebrows darting up and down in jest. “What is that?” He asks when he sees the green baby in your arms.

“I’m not sure, really,” you answer honestly, looking down at Grogu.

“Didn’t think you had any motherly instincts.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Neither did I.”

Tye passes by you, heading for the edge of the hangar. You eye him cautiously, trying to gauge what he’s up to. When you see him sit down, feet dangling off the edge like you used to do, you walk over to him, still holding Grogu in your arms. You catch yourself just before you’re within earshot and put the kid down.

“Can I trust that you won’t tear this place apart?”

The kid mumbles something at you and begins waddling away.

“I’m keeping an eye on you, you little womp rat!” You shout at him, before strolling back over to where Tye is and sit to his right.

You’re looking at him, trying to find something recognizable about him, something that could show you he’s still the same person you knew when you were kids, but everything about him is different. He looks like an entirely new person.

“Do you remember the first time we got here?” He asks, staring at the portal’s traffic.

Your eyes leave him to look at the various ships coming in and out of the ports. “I remember thinking ‘I hate it here’.”

The corners of his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, you always hated busy places.”

“They’re just too noisy. You can barely hear yourself think down here.”

“Yeah…”

Neither of you speak for several minutes. You know he’s here for a reason. Whether it’s to forgive you or kill you, that’s probably up to what you say next.

“Tye, I’m really sorry for what I did,” you whisper, tearing your eyes away from the portal to stare at his side profile. “I was being selfish, and I didn’t take anyone’s feelings—especially yours, into consideration.”

“You know, when I got the hologram from Sula and saw Venka’s bloody nose in the background, I just knew it was you.”

Rolling your eyes, you jab him with your elbow. “You did not.”

“You’re the only person with enough nerve to punch him.”

“That’s true… It felt pretty damn good too.”

Tye chuckles, shaking his head. The sound instantly reminds you of all the moments you’d tell him a stupid pun and watch him cackle like it’s the funniest joke he’d ever heard in his life.

“Do you ever think about getting out?” You ask him.

“Getting out?”

“Yeah, putting all this smuggling shit behind you and finding a nice, quiet planet to live out the rest of your days. Meet a local girl and settle down. Maybe even have a couple kids.”

For the first time since you sat down, Tye looks over at you, and the kindness in his eyes that had seemed to disappear is looking back at you, bringing you to your younger years on Tatooine. That outgoing, carefree kid that always got you in trouble. The guy who laughed at everything, who found the silver lining in any given situation; he’s looking right at you.

“Nah, I’m not built for that kind of life.”

“Life has a way of throwing you some curveballs.”

“I see that…” he says with that smile that always brought you joy.

It suddenly dawns on you that this is Tye’s way of saying good-bye. That—after this conversation, you’ll probably never see each other again. You’ll no longer be involved in each other’s lives. There won’t be any more meetups on Kijimi or Coruscant or any other planet, and while the thought makes your chest tighten, you understand why. Honestly, you don’t know how you’d be able to forgive a friend for doing what you did, let alone have it be your oldest friend. Without even knowing it, you’ve chosen who you wanted your family to be, and to your surprise, it isn’t Tye.

Against your better judgement, you lean your head on his shoulder. At first, he stiffens, and you worry you’ve gone too far, but then he relaxes, even craning his neck to lean his head against yours, breathing you in.

“I hate to admit it, but you seem happier.” He tells you, feeling defeated.

“Hey, are you there?”

Mando’s voice in your ear makes you jump. Putting a finger up to Tye, you excuse yourself and walk back towards the Crest, just far enough so he’s no longer without earshot, all the while making the kid hasn’t gotten into any trouble. You catch him waddling around the hangar, chasing what looks to be some kind of flying insect. Womp rat.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, pressing your finger into your ear.

“The job’s taking longer than I thought. It’ll take another day or two,” he speaks low, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s talking to you.

Your heart drops. Another day? You hadn’t even considered the idea that he might be gone longer than he expected. Does he need help? Has something gone wrong? Should you ask to meet him?

“Are you still there?”

“Shit, yeah, sorry I’m here,” you answer, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Don’t let the kid out of your sight. Stay inside the Crest.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll try to check in again, but I might not be able to.” There are voices in the background, calling for him. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”

The other end goes silent. He’s gone.

Refusing to let yourself get too upset, you exhale through your lips and roll your shoulders, turning back over to Tye who’s still sitting on the ledge.

“What was that about?” He asks as you get closer, using his arms to push him back to his feet.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“So secretive,” he teases.

A sudden crash grabs your attention. Twisting your body in a panic, you see Grogu standing alongside a pile of miscellaneous scraps that have fallen over.

“Dank farrik. Kid!” You call out as you jog over to him. Once he sees you coming for him, he runs over to you, squealing in fear.

“Don’t worry, little guy. I got you,” you assure him, picking him up and holding him close to your chest. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

Grogu looks up at you and pouts, ears hanging low.

“I should get going. Gotta head out soon,” you hear Tye say to you.

“Okay.”

You stand a few feet away from each other, shifting awkwardly because neither of you know how to say good-bye.

“Well, um…” Tye says before clearing his throat, and then rubbing the nape of his neck with one hand.

“Good luck on your run.”

He looks down at the ground, kicking it absentmindedly with his foot. “Good luck with… everything.”

“Thanks,” you answer, voice barely audible.

You watch as Tye heads for the hangar door, waiting for him to look back, but he never does. You think about chasing after him, wrapping your arms around him one last time but your feet never leave the ground. They keep you firmly in place. With your chest tight, you expect tears to form in your eyes, but they never do. Not even seeing your best friend leave can bring you to tears. Does that make you a horrible person? Maybe.

The door hisses shut, leaving you and Grogu all alone in the hangar. You feel empty, like a part of you has walked away with Tye, and maybe there was.

He was your childhood, your adolescence… he was everything, and now he’s just gone, existing only in your memory.

“Hey,” you say, trying to distract youtself. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Grogu fusses in your arms and you head into the Crest, shutting the ramp behind you and going straight for the sleeping bunk. You crawl into the cot, placing him in the makeshift hammock and closing your eyes.

It’s gonna be a long couple days without Mando.

It’s been a day since you’ve last heard from Mando, which means you’ve been stuck in the Crest for a whole kriffing day, and you’re getting serious cabin fever. There aren’t any more ration packs—you and Grogu have finished the last of them a few hours ago and you’re still hungry. You both need some real food.

Remembering that diner you and Mando passed yesterday, it makes your stomach growl. It’s almost too tempting. You’ll both get some sustenance, and you’ll get time to stretch your legs. Really, it doesn’t take you much time to make up your mind. One little venture out can’t hurt, right?

Before heading out, you make sure to take your blaster and a two vibroblades from Mando’s armory. It may seem like overkill but it’s better to be safe than sorry. With Grogu tucked in the sash across your chest, you head out of the hangar.

Walking around without Mando is more dangerous, for obvious reasons. Only an idiot would pick a fight with a Mandalorian, so wherever you walked with him, you knew you’d be safe. It’s completely different walking by yourself. You know the area, you know the safer spots to walk and the areas to avoid, but you’re sure to keep your eyes open and walk with caution. Coruscant—no matter the time of day, can be dodgy. Should you have checked in with Mando that you were going out? Probably but it’s only for an hour or two and the odds of him coming back while you’re out are slim, so you take your chances. If he’s somehow able to find out that you left the hangar after he specifically told you to stay inside the Crest, you’ll just have to deal with the consequences, but until then, you’ll enjoy the little freedom you have right now.

Trekking the same route as you did with Mando, you keep your head down and navigate through various crowds of people, all the while keeping your hand just above the blaster strapped to your thigh. Even though you hate this planet, you can still appreciate its culture, and diversity.

Here, you can see every single possible being known in the galaxy. From Jawas and Wookies, to Gungans and Vodrans. Everyone eventually came to Coruscant, no matter who they were. If it wasn’t such a shithole, you’d probably enjoy living here. The best way to learn about other planets and other beings is to come to Coruscant where they had the knowledge about such things, and knowledge in abundance. It’s the metropolitan of the galaxy and if you were able to forget about all the crime and injustices that occurred here, you could probably stay just to learn.

The diner is almost full as it’s now midday. You’re lucky enough to find an empty booth near the kitchen when an older looking woman comes to greet you at your table with a datapad in hand.

“Hi there, can I get you anything?” She asks kindly.

“Can I have some broth and a plate of sliders, please?”

Looking down at the pad in her hands, she puts in your order and looks back at up at you with a wide, toothy grin, “Coming right up, sweetheart.”

As you wait for your meal, you look out the transparisteel and watch as waves of people pass you by on the street, exchanging smiles with those you make eye contact with. You wonder what kind of trouble Mando’s getting up to out there.

Is he nearby?

Is he on the other end of the planet?

More importantly, is he safe?

You wish he were with you. The idea sounds almost too domestic, sitting in a diner with you and Grogu, sharing a meal like normal people. It’s probably something you’ll never actually get to experience together but it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming about it. Never would you have guessed that you’d be longing for domesticity, for normalcy. Mando’s brought that out in you which is pretty ironic considering neither of you have experienced something close to normalcy in years but then again, it’s pretty fitting. After living such a nomadic life, moving from planet to planet, risking your life every time you stepped out on a run, it’s all led you to this, to Mando and Grogu.

“Here you go, sugar,” the waitress says suddenly, two plates of food in her hands. She gently places them in front of you and Grogu. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Perfect, thank you,” you say, all smiles.

Grogu starts to eat immediately, grabbing the spoon with his firm grip and sipping the broth. Looking down at the food in your plate, you’re practically ravenous. This is the first proper meal you’ve had in months. While living off of ration packs have satisfied you up until this point, there’s nothing quite like munching down on real food, something that didn’t come out of a pack. You make a mental note to take some food to go before heading out, for Mando. You assume it’s been even longer since he’s had a decent meal and you’re sure he’d appreciate it.

You eat quickly, just because it’s so kriffing good. The attempts to really savor it are lost on you. The juices from the patty nearly drip down your arm, you’re sure you look a hot mess right now, but you pay no mind.

The best thing about eating something other than a ration pack is that this actually tastes like nutrition. Ration packs are just enough to keep up your strength, but they’re not made to satisfy you. It’s just to keep your body up and moving.

Before you know it, you’ve cleaned your plate. The kid has also finished his broth by now and is giving you sleepy eyes, blinking up at you slowly. A proper meal is enough to make anyone tired, including you, but there’s still a few errands you want to run before heading back to the Crest. Before leaving, you had made a list of all the things you’ll need to buy on your day out.

1. New clothes

2. Ration packs

3. Soap

4. Food for Mando

It’s a short list but having only a few hundred credits, you’ll have to budget everything very carefully, even try to bargain with merchants if it comes down to it. Luckily, you think of yourself as a pretty good dealer, so you’re prepared to do it if it comes down to that.

The waitress comes back to pick up the empty saucers and you ask her to for another platter of sliders to go. She obliges, again with a smile.

While you wait, you take the opportunity to pick a sheepish Grogu and place him back in the pouch across your chest and walk over to the counter to wait. Within a few minutes, the kind woman reappears from the kitchen with a paper bag in her hands.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you answer, taking the bag from her hands, and placing a few credits in her hand.

“Safe travels, my dear.”

Offering her a smile, you turn on your heel and head out the door, back into the mayhem that is Level 1313.

Based on memory, you walk in direction of where ration packs are sold, remembering all the times you used to come to this very spot just before leaving for a job. Every building, every street sign, it’s all familiar. It’s like you’re taking a stroll through the past, almost seeing your old self in strangers you pass by, realizing how much has changed since you were last here. It’s funny to think that on a planet as vast and modern as Coruscant, you seem to be the only thing that’s actuallychanged. You’re no longer just looking out for yourself. Now, you worry about Grogu’s safety, you worry about Mando’s safety. It’s a change you couldn’t have anticipated but are so thankful for.

The merchant selling the ration packs cause you a bit of trouble, claiming the broth packs and bread packs are different prices—which you know is bullshit because you’ve been buying them for years. You’ve seen him do this before, to other women who try to buy packs. Why he thinks he could increase prices for women and not men are not unusual. Men tend to think women don’t know the actual price of packs and can therefore get away with selling them at a different price. It happens so often that most of the time now, women have their male counterparts buy the packs for them, since the exchanges usual end with them not receiving any packs at all, but you know his game. He’s been trying to hustle you for years and has never been able to get the best of you.

“This is enough for five packs, that’s all,” he says when you place some credits on the table.

“No, that’s enough for two weeks’ worth of packs,” you snarl back.

The man laughs at you. “Maybe on a smaller planet, but you’re on Coruscant, girl. It’s more expensive, here.”

“That’s such bullshit and you know it. Give me two weeks’ worth of packs and I’ll be out of your way.”

He scowls at you, his eyes glaring you down. “Have you gone deaf? I said five.”

Taking a deep breath, and craning your neck to either side, you press your palms into the table, leaning forward and stopping just inches from his face. “I’ll say it just one more time. Give me the fucking packs.”

“Hey, we’re all waiting over here!” You hear someone in line shout at you.

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“I can stay here all day, and you’ll lose out on way more than just a handful of packs,” you tell him, taking a step back and crossing your arms against your chest. “Your call.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. You can tell he’s considering it by the way he continues to glare at you. It’s not worth losing out on a whole day’s worth of business just for a handful more packs.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, grabbing two handfuls of ration packs and throwing them on the table.

“Thank you,” you sneer, grabbing them all and stuffing them into your backpack.

1. New clothes

2. Ration packs

3. Soap

4. Food for Mando

The rest of the afternoon goes by smoothly. You manage to get everything you needed without overspending, and you’re pretty proud of yourself. By the time you’re back on the Crest, the kid’s fallen asleep. You bring him up to the cockpit and put him down on one of the chairs and let him sleep. Since you’ll be rummaging through the galley to put everything away, this is probably the quietest place for him to sleep. After putting him down, you descend the ladder and begin unpacking everything you bought today. Placing the ration packs where they belong, the soap in the fresher, and checking out the new clothes you got. Nothing too extravagant, just another dark colored tunic and some cargo pants but it’s perfect for you.

You look down at the commlink on your wrist, checking the time. It’s early evening, making it almost a day and a half since you’ve heard from Mando, almost two days since you’ve last seen him, not that you’re counting the days.

Okay, you are but that’s not the point.

The point is you miss him terribly. Each hour that passes is an hour closer until you see him again, but it’s also another hour that you haven’t seen him, and your body aches. Is that possible? To miss someone so much that it actually hurts your body? The only logical explanation is that he’s taken a part of you with him, leaving you with a gaping hole inside your body, waiting for his return and waiting for him to refill it. It can’t be that it’s just because you miss him so fucking much, it can’t be.

It can’t be…

You’re half-asleep in Mando’s seat in the cockpit when you hear the hangar door slide open. Eyes opening immediately, the familiar sight of shimmering beskar instantly releases all the tautness in your body that you held onto while he was gone. The relief and joy you feel seeing him after basically two days apart reminds you of something like teenage love. The inability to be away from one another even if just for a couple of days is almost embarrassing, given that you’ve tried so hard to distance yourself from the very love you have for Mando, but quite frankly, it feels fucking amazing to have someone to care for this much. The kid is still asleep in one of the passenger chairs, so you get up ever so quietly from your seat and tiptoe your way to the ladder.

Once you hit the ladder, you shut the cockpit door and then you’re racing down the ladder, jumping off of it before you reach the bottom. You heart is racing, the smile on your face is impossible to hide—not that you’re really trying to, anyway. Standing just at the end of the ladder, you watch as Mando heads up the ramp without a word, pressing a button the vambrace that shuts the ramp behind him. Once closed, the air surrounding you changes drastically. The smile disappears from your face, and all of a sudden you feel heat prick at your cheeks.

He damn near stalks towards you, only stopping momentarily to detach the jetpack from his back and then placing it on the ground lazily. It topples over, the noise making you jump but he doesn’t bother to bend over and pick it up. Mando’s got the visor planted on you, and you’re frozen in place, a pool of arousal begins to build in your lower stomach causing your jaw to slack open. Half of you wants to cower, to hide at the sight of him. A Mandalorian pursuing anyone is enough to trigger the fight or flight response but there’s something animalistic in the way he’s coming for you, and you’d be lying if your panties weren’t drenched right now.

“Close your eyes,” he says breathlessly as he draws in closer.

You obey immediately, and suddenly hear a hissing noise, followed by something heavy hitting the ground—his helmet? Before you can ask him, his hot lips crash into yours, pushing you up against the small wall that separates the refresher from his bunk. Large, gloved hands wrap themselves around the crooks of your neck, his thumbs resting on your cheeks. The yelp you let out in surprise is caught in his mouth, his tongue darting out to trail along your bottom lip before meeting yours.

The kiss is sloppy and rushed. His hands grab at your body, your waist, the small of your back, and then settle on your hips. Your own hands fly up to grab fistfuls of his hair. His locks are damp, probably due to sweat, and you pull tighter. Mando groans lowly in the back of his throat, feeling the vibrations in yours as your cunt throbs in response. He smells of gunpower residue and musk. It fills your nostrils, almost making you lightheaded from the sensation, it’s somehow the sweetest scent you’ve ever smelled.

Both of your chests are heaving, the need to pull away to catch your breaths continuously increasing. You continue to grab at each other hastily, one of his hands wrapping around your neck and craning your jaw to expose naked skin. His lips finally leave yours, although not without you trying to keep him still, and then he starts sucking at your neck. The stubble along his jaw scratching against your skin feels so fucking good.

“Thought about you… the whole… time… couldn’t… focus…” He growls into the crook of your neck between chaste kisses, already feeling the skin starting to bruise.

Maker, is it even possible to be this turned on, right now? Mando’s desperation throws you for a loop. You knew how much you missed him, but knowing he felt the same way is so comforting. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Need… need… to have you—"

“Stars… please…” You mewl back, hands dropping to his hips and pulling him closer to your body, his breastplate flush against your chest.

“Have to clean up first,” he whispers lowly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice is velvet smooth, like dripping honey. How can he be so gentle and commanding?

“Shhhh,” you tell him, before blindly grabbing at his arms in hopes to find his pauldrons and when you do find them, you start to detach them. Throwing them aimlessly on the ground and return grabbing at whatever piece of armor you can, you try to pry it off his body as he continues to lick and suck at either side of your neck.

It’s a little awkward trying to undress him while being so close to each other. You can’t even see what you’re doing so you’re sure it’s not the most elegant way of stripping him, and he seems to pick up on it because he finally pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. You feel his hot breath on your even hotter skin and the urge to open your eyes almost takes you over, wanting so desperately to look into his eyes and see him.

“Let me do it,” he coaxes, barely above a whisper.

“But—”

He presses his lips onto yours once more, and just when you try to deepen the kiss by moving closer towards his body, he breaks it off. Immediately, you begin to hear various pieces of his armor hit the floor, heart banging against your ribcage in anticipation. Stars, you want him so fucking badly. You become impatient, grabbing the hem of your tunic and beginning to lift it up your chest.

“No,” Mando orders.

Feeling his body close to yours again, his hands grab onto your wrists, placing them on his waist. Rubbing the fabric between your fingertips, you assume he’s wearing only a long-sleeved tunic now. It’s soft to the touch, just like his skin. As your fingers trail down his sides to the hem of his shirt, you hike it up just enough for your thumb to circle the v-lines of his stomach, feeling small bumps form on his skin.

Mando grunts through gritted teeth and then he’s dropping to his knees. Your hands are back in his hair, running your fingers through his wavy locks. He grabs the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them all the way down your thighs, lifting each of your legs and helping you slip out of them. Discarding them to the side, Mando’s calloused fingertips trail up your legs, kissing the very tops of your thighs as he makes his way to your underwear.

Placing a chaste kiss on the thin piece of fabric, you can’t help but tremble. Mando’s ability to be rough one minute and then gentle the next is quite literally mind-blowing. It keeps you on your toes, never knowing exactly what’s going on in his brain.

He hooks his fingers around the hem of your underwear and slowly pulls them down. You’re naked from the waist down and beginning to feel shy, being exposed and the fact that you’re unable to open your eyes and see his face or gauge his body language—it’s eating you up.

His fingers slide between your legs, tracing all the way up the apex of your thighs, forming goosebumps on your skin. Once he reaches your cunt, two fingers slip between your folds, coating them with your slick.

“So wet, pretty girl,” he admires.

All you can do is mewl when he touches you. Mando continues to massage his fingers between your folds, gathering as much of your slick as he can and then he’s pushing two digits inside you, causing you to lull your head back and accidentally hitting it against the back wall a lot harder than you expected.

“Fuck, that hurt,” you giggle, hands rubbing the back of your head.

“Are you okay? He asks, stilling his fingers inside you.

“I’m fine—ah shit,” you answer just he begins to curl them inside you, hitting that angle that only he knows how to reach.

Rubbing tight circles on your clit with his thumb, you arch your back, pushing your hips right into Mando’s face. Using his free hand, he holds the small of your back in place and darts his tongue out to lick at your bud. Your whimper echoes through the Crest’s walls, his tongue flicking your clit as he continues to finger fuck your cunt. All you can do is pull on his hair tighter, unable to move or squirm as he holds you in place.

Knees beginning to buckle, you can feel the stirring in your stomach gradually building, your orgasm bubbling up to the surface. Mando seems to catch this because he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a quicker pace, now sucking on your clit and making you fucking squirm.

“Ma-Mando, I’m g-gon-nna come soon,” you tell him, voice breaking.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flings one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your legs apart and lapping you up with even more fervor. You’re basically quivering now, climax getting closer and closer, and Mando knows it. He knows your body better than anyone else, better than you know yourself.

“Shit, ah-fuck, Mando…”

Right as you feel yourself about to release, Mando pulls his fingers out of you and his tongue leaves your clit, placing a chaste kiss on your inner thigh and then rising to his feet. It’s damn near impossible to hide your disappointment. It’s infuriating—being so fucking close to release, only to be denied at the very last second.

“Why—” You begin to ask but the rest of your question is silenced by his lips crushing onto yours. His tongue finds yours and you can taste yourself.

“Shhhh,” he whispers onto your lips, and then he’s pressing his body on yours once again, arms wrapped around your back as he carries you into the fresher.

The space is just big enough to fit you both, your bodies practically stuck together. Your eyes are still closed and that only adds to the intimacy. His hands grab onto the hem of your tunic and he instructs you to lift your arms. You do as your told and he lifts the shirt above your head, discarding it at your feet. You stand there, naked and fully at his mercy.

“You can open your eyes,” he says just after hearing the door slide shut. At first, you hesitate, unsure if the room really is pitch black or if he’s trusting you enough to look at his face. When you finally do open your eyes, you can’t see a damn thing. The light inside the fresher is off and you feel a sudden rush of relief and disappointment wash over you because of course he’d make sure the room was dark enough so you couldn’t see his features. Why would you think he’d be comfortable enough to show you his face?

You don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s already pushing you up against the wall, hands resting on the wall to either side of your face and sucking at your neck once again. The skin is tender, little bruises protruding along the sides of your neck, but Mando is mindful enough to be gentle. Then his mouth trails down your neck, giving chaste kisses along your clavicle, travelling down just above your breasts, cupping the flesh with his hands. With his thumb and index, he rolls your nipple, pinching the skin and then giving it a gentle nip with his teeth.

“Maker…” you whisper in awe. No one has ever been so tender with you. With all your previous sexual encounters, you’ve made it clear that it was purely about sex—nothing more. With Mando, everything is different. Neither of you are in a rush. You take time to understand each other’s bodies; what makes you writhe, what makes you scream, what makes you come. It’s about what will bring out the most pleasure in each other. You could both spend the rest of your lives learning everything about each other, from the curves in your skin, to each birth mark, to each scar.

He pulls away momentarily and using what little time you have; you grab only his hips and spin you both around, so he’s flush against the wall. Your fingers grab onto the bottom of his shirt once more.

“Can I?” You ask him tenderly.

Mando says nothing and you take that as him consenting. You hike up his shirt just a little bit, waiting for him to either stop you or allow you, and when he lifts his arms up so you can remove it, you throw it on the ground, somewhere close to where your own shirt is. You stand just inches apart from each other, neither of you are able to see the other. Wrapping your arms around his biceps, feeling the curve of his muscles as your fingers trace down his arms, across his chest.

His chest is covered in marks, scars from previous battles he’s fought in. Your fingers brush over his pecks, down the centre of his stomach, all the way to the small trail of hair that meets his shaft. When your hands settle on the waistband of his trousers, you unbuckle them and begin to push them down. He helps you a bit, stepping out of his pants.

In the fresher, you’re both fully exposed, completely vulnerable in a way you’ve never been before. The last time you were in here together, it was after the first time you had sex. That was different. You were both still dazed in the aftermath of what happened, neither of you fully aware of each other’s own nakedness, but now it’s so different. You’re not only aware of each other’s vulnerability but you’re relishing in it.

Mando turns the water on. A warm, steady stream cascades over your bodies. Steam from the warm water quickly fills the air, blending with each other’s body heat. Within seconds, you’re both soaked and for the first time, you’re the one who leans in for a kiss. For the first time, you’re the one with the courage to plant your lips on his, to catch him off guard. Mando groans in his throat, catching the sound in your own and swallowing it. With your hands placed on either cheek, you think this might be the first time anyone’s actually held his face and Maker, how fucking lucky you are to be the one to do this. He’s opened himself up to you; something he’s never done with another soul. You might not know what his face looks like, but you’re able to make out enough of his features by touching them. The sharp cut of his jawline where you feel his stubble, his moustache has tickles and pricks at your skin whenever he kisses you. The curve and bump of his nose as it clashes against yours, it’s enough for you to paint a picture of what you think he looks like, and if he looks anything like what you’ve made up in your mind, it’s a damn shame that the helmet covers up something so breathtaking.

You lean down to plant a kiss on one of his pecks, feeling the goosebumps form right where your lips meet his skin. There are a million things you want to tell him: how much you care for him and Grogu, how much he’s changed your life, how thankful you are to have him by your side. All these things you’ll probably never be able to tell him because expressing how you feel about someone has always been something you struggled with.

Although, you get the feeling Mando is in the same boat. Like he too is carrying the very same confessions as you that he too is unable to express. Maybe you’ll never know how he truly feels about you, just like he might never know exactly how you feel about him, but sometimes, words aren’t necessary. It’s more about the way you lean on one another, the way you touch one another. It’s your own way of communicating. Expressing yourselves through each other’s actions—that’s what draws you together.

He deepens the kiss, wrapping his large arms around your waist and pulling you to him as close as he can. Sloshing your mouths together, darting each other’s tongues, lips saturated in each other’s spit, it’s the most chaotic, desperate kiss you’ve ever had. When you finally pull away, chests are heaving, you’re both practically panting into each other’s mouths.

Mando takes a small step forward, hooking his hands under your arms and lifting you off the ground. You lock your legs around his waist, feeling his rock-hard cock grind against your stomach and then, your back’s on the wall again. His large hands cup your ass, digging half-moons into your skin as he nips at your shoulder.

“Fuck me … please,” you pant in his ear. His cock twitches, feeling drops of precome paint your stomach.

He wastes no time obliging as one of his hands lets go of you to align himself with your entrance. You wait impatiently for him to fill you up.

His head pokes at your entrance and immediately you feel your pussy gush. Bucking your hips forward, you push his head inside you, a pathetic mewl escaping your lips.

“Impatient,” he scolds and thrusts himself inside you all the way to the hilt. “Fu-u-uck,” he grits, biting back a moan.

Your head drops down to rest on his shoulder, arms crossed around his neck. Mando doesn’t move at first, letting your walls acclimate to his size. When he feels you relax around him, he begins to slowly grind his hips against yours, making sure you feel every fucking inch of him inside you. Trying to stifle your moans, you bite down on his shoulder and he whimpers at the sensation, driving himself even deeper, hitting your cervix.

“Fuck!” You cry out, head lulling back to hit the wall behind you.

Mando begins properly moving, slamming into you at a fast pace. The sound of skin slapping skin is only exacerbated by the water still pouring down over your bodies.

“Ah s-shit… fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good,” Mando says through gritted teeth. You clench your legs around his waist and feel him grind his hips in response. “Kriff…”

He stills inside you for a moment, and you start to wonder if he came prematurely. When you open your mouth to say something, he answers the question before you can ask it.

“I didn’t come, don’t worry,” he mumbles breathlessly, and then he’s pulling out of you.

It’s stupid but you feel empty. You already miss the feeling of his cock stretching your walls, the way he fills you up so perfectly, like you were made to take him.

Your feet touch the ground, and you only have a moment to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. Tongues darting out to catch each other’s; it’s a wet, sloppy kiss, but with his hands cupping your face, hands that almost cover your face entirely, it nearly throws you for a loop.

He pulls away just far enough so you can still feel his breath on your lips, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Maker, you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you just from his words. Turning you around so that you’re facing the wall, you hear him spit and then his cock is teasing your entrance again. Rubbing his length between your folds a couple times, slathering it with your slick, he lines himself up and slams into you with as much force as he can, knocking the air right out of your lungs as your cheek clashes with the durasteel wall.

His hands find their way to your hair, and he grabs as much of it as he can and pulls, forcing you to arch your back and steady yourself by holding onto the wall in front of you. The rhythm he sets is so brutal and rough, the only thing you can hear are his balls slapping against your clit. Your throat is raw, unable to make a single sound. Wrenching your eyes shut, the way his cock hits that spot inside you is making you see stars. There’s something desperate in the way he’s fucking you. The day and a half without you seemed to have really taken its toll on him, and now he’s taking it out on you. You’d let him leave without a fight if it meant you’d get fucked like this whenever he came back. Feeling your slick drip down your thighs, you know you’re so close to coming.

“Ma-ando, I’m go-o-onna c-c-come.”

“Good girl,” he praises.

When you finally come, the cries burn your throat, raw and broken. Mando fucks you all the way through it, never once relenting his rhythm, pushing as many whimpers and screams out of you as he can. Your body nearly convulses from the sheer power of your climax, exploding pleasure from every nerve-ending inside of you. Maker, you’re fucking spent. Knees barely able to keep you standing, almost going limp as you come down from your orgasm.

“Come again for me, pretty girl,” he says gently, dropping one of his hands to spread your legs and cup your sex.

“I-I can’t,” you answer with a trembling voice, making a feeble attempt to close your legs.

“Yes, you can,” he hums, forcing your legs open and using two fingers to rub your clit.

You squirm underneath him, the overstimulation really hitting you as the rhythm on your bud gets faster and faster. Your cunt is fucking worn out, you’re barely able to take any more pleasure but you refuse to let Mando down. You want to make him proud. Taking a shaky breath, you attempt to relax your trembling thighs and within seconds you’re coming again, biting down on your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ll end up breaking skin.

Mando makes a guttural noise, a purely animalistic groan as he feels you come around his cock. “Fuck, yes… good girl,” he growls with praise.

Grabbing your upper arms, he pulls you upright and flush against his chest, peppering wet, messy kisses along the nape of your neck. Your arm wraps around the back of his neck, pulling at his wet hair. His cock drives into you at a ruthless pace, and then he finally stills inside of you. Pulsing between your walls, he pumps his seed deep in your pussy, moaning your name into your ear.

When his hold on you slackens, you nearly double over and fall to the ground. He pulls out of you quickly and lifts you back up to your feet. Turning you around gingerly to face him, he leans you up against the wall.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He says with his hands on your face, a hint of guilt lingering on his lips.

You’re pretty sure your eyes are closed but you can’t be sure. Everything is so dark, your mind fuzzy. “No, ‘m okay,” you answer sheepishly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m okay, Mando.”

Feeling his forehead press yours, he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. If you had any energy left, you’d kiss him back but you’re teetering the line between consciousness and unconsciousness, too fucking exhausted to move any of your muscles.

After that, your mind goes… fuzzy.

It hits you in flashes.

You vaguely remember Mando cleaning you both up.

The water turning off.

Being guided out of the fresher.

Something being wrapped around your body—soft and warm, his cape probably.

Him slowly putting you down on the floor…

Someone warm close to you.

And then you fall asleep, the last thing you remember is feeling calloused fingertips grazing up and down your back.

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