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obislittleone · 2 years ago

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What Once Was Mine

Chapter 12

Summary: Locked away in a house her entire life, she always dreamed of exploring the nearby kingdom for just a day, believing it could make the rest of her days in solitude bearable. What she was unaware of, was the real reason she’d been hidden away for so long. Changes comes swift like a flying dagger when a thieving bounty hunter seeks solace in the old home.

Din Djarin Royalty!AU / Tangled!AU

Pairing: Din Djarin x Princess Kryze!Reader

A/n: okay so there’s one more part after this and then Ima start posting more indy stuff…

Warnings: Heavy fluff, angst if you squint, Bo being a little bit weird ig… Oh and smut (18+)

He was strong enough to ride a horse, that was his argument.

“I had to walk you down those steps to get to the stable,” you countered, a chuckle within your tone as you tried to reason with your mandalorian hunter. He was being so stubborn about his healing process, and even now, while strolling through the gardens, he had an arm hooked around yours for safety.

“You didn’t have to, you wanted to,” he emphasized his point by stepping away for a moment, walking on his own and without a limp in his footsteps. You could acknowledge that there was quite a bit of progress since he had been injured, but you wondered if he was fully recovered or just pretending to appease you. “See? I’m fine.”

You shook your head and rejoined your arms, linking together at the elbow as you continued your stroll. You still had to have a chaperone present on your day walks, as until you were married, it would not be appropriate for other court members and such to see you alone together. She followed behind at a close distance, but she minded her own business enough that you both felt comfortable to express yourselves freely.

“If you are in fact fine, you wouldn’t mind dancing with me in the hall this evening?” You let your voice grow softer, leaning into him a small bit when you spoke. It was innocent enough, but unfortunately something as simple as this may be looked down upon by royal standards. You were new to the life of monarchy, and still didn’t know the rules of what was tolerated and what wasn’t.

“Walking and dancing are two separate things,” he chided, trying to still seem confident about his progress while also making it known that he hadn’t quite made it that far.

“Then I will postpone the planning further.”

He huffed a sigh, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at your antics. Oh how he loved you, but sometimes you were more stubborn than he was, and that in itself was an accomplishment.

“Lady Bo Katan said the planning would take a fortnight, I’m sure I’ll be fully recovered by then,” he argued yet again, and you would admit you were getting closer to folding. He turned to you, stopping in the walkway on the cobblestones and taking your hands in his own. The look in his eyes as he took in your every feature… those eyes made you a victim, willing to comply with any request he may ever present. It’s not like he was asking anything bad of you, quite the opposite, actually. “I just want to be married to you.”

With a hand placed at the side of his face, you leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the nose. There was still a chaperone behind you, after all. “Only if you’re completely sure you can dance with me by then.”

“I promise, I will dance with you until your feet give out.”

You chuckled timidly, a blush spreading across your cheeks from the smirk forming across his.

“Then I’ll tell Bo this afternoon.” With a nod, and a sweet smile, the deal was sealed. It was all done in perfect timing, too, for the royal child nurse, Peli, came rushing up to you both with your lovely green bundle in her arms.

You reached out to take the baby into your possession, his tiny hands reaching out for you in return.

“Good morning, bright eyes,” you said, bouncing him a few times before pulling him close to your chest for a hug. “How’d he sleep?”

“Better than me, I imagine,” she chuckled, but you knew it was all in good fun. She would have the rest of the day off until the evening, now, as Din usually took the time to bond with him while you slowly integrated yourself with meetings again. Peli was only there to make sure he was comfortable during the night. She did a wonderful job as far as you were concerned, and Grogu loved having her nearby. “Ate a hefty breakfast, too.”

“Hungry little boy,” you cooed, letting him play with your fingers the way he always used to in the old house. These moments were precious, as until you’d been married and taken residence in the King suite, you all would be forced to endure separate living situations. Hopefully, since you’d finally agreed to plan the wedding, things would be easier afterwards. “Thank you, Peli. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, I know you do so well with him.”

“All part of the job, your highness,” she bowed slightly, and you gave a slight one in return, as you hated the way others lowered themselves for you. It was only right that you return the favor, a show of your respect. “I was told to pass on the message that Lady Kryze awaits you on the second balcony for tea.”

“Of course, I’ll be right on my way.”

With that, the royal nursemaid returned to her chambers, probably to get some much needed rest and sustenance.

You turned to Din with the child, whom now reached out for him with a tiny squeal of excitement. This had been the first day he was able to spend with him since the incident, other than a few minutes here and there of just a visit while he was recovering.

“I probably won’t see you until this evening, but I’ll make sure my advisor sends for you as soon as I’m through with everything,” this time you ignored the fact that there was a chaperone, and leaned upwards to peck his lips once before retreating quickly. “I love you.”

“I love you, mesh’la.”

The tea was nearly cold by the time you’d found Bo Katan. She didn’t mind, as she learned not to wait for you in these situations. You both were complete opposites, as her being the logical and precise one, and you being the free spirited and poetic one. Even still, with these differences, she considered you her closest ally, a true sister. Though you never met Satine, you believed she was probably like Bo Katan, strong and unwavering. Bo missed her other sister, but having you back was like filling an emptiness that had been there for so long.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you nearly tripped over your gown, your bare feet doing there best to recover your stance before you sat across from her. Being queen meant making your own rules. You didn’t need to wear the gaudy and dramatic outfits everyday, that was the first thing to go. Regular gowns like the ones you used to wear would do just fine for everyday life. “I was taking a stroll with Din through the courtyard.”

“I expected so,” her little slanted smile meant she hadn’t been too upset about your absence. “He seems to be well on his feet, now.”

You nodded in agreement to her statement. He was almost completely healed of his injuries, barely a scratch remained.

“He says he will feel at his best in a fortnight,” you knew she wouldn’t catch on immediately, though you didn’t want to sound too brash… perhaps you should just tell her of your plans. “I remember you said it would take that long to plan-“

“A wedding?” Her brows raised as she turned to you, not truly surprised, but a bit intrigued by the fact that it was the hunter’s suggestion. “I assumed your marriage would not take place for at least a month’s time.”

“We wished it could have been sooner, actually.”

“I see,” she responded, giving you a sideways look over her cup of tea when she took a long sip. You didn’t understand the meaning in those strange glances she would sometimes give you, but she usually explained her thoughts after giving them. “I dare to ask if consummation is the main priority?”

“Pardon?” You didn’t understand that word, and she recognized your confusion immediately, feeling the need to go further in her questioning.

“I know I could perhaps be wrong, but I figured you’d have already laid with him before.” Her glance shifted away from yours for only a moment, knowing that even though you were very different from the proper royalty she’d been raised to speak with, it may still have been a forbidden topic.

“I don’t understand your meaning,” you paused, furrowing your brows as you racked your brain for what she could possibly be saying. You were smart, you were quick on your feet, but sometimes your innocence was too much for your own good. “I laid with him at night when we slept, or I did until he had to return to his room. I don’t understand what that has to do with marriage?”

The dumbfounded look on her face would have been funny, had anyone else seen it but you. It was unassuming to you and honestly made you feel like the butt of a cruel joke. Was she really so surprised? You’d grown up in a hidden part of the forrest, living mainly on your own for eighteen years… it was bound that you weren’t going to know of all the things other children were taught of.

“You can’t be serious,” she all but muttered, trying to hold her reaction to a minimum while still being in disbelief. Never in all her years had she encountered someone so untouched by the world and yet so formed by it. You had brutally killed a man, taking his head from his shoulders and not even batting an eye… but you didn’t know what sex was? “You really don’t know?”

“Pardon me, sister… but I didn’t have the most well rounded education,” you tried to keep your anger inside, for you knew it was hard for others to come to terms with the way your mind worked, or rather, the lack of information it held sometimes. You tried your best to absorb everything at all times, but there were some things that hadn’t ever been introduced.

“I apologize, I don’t mean to mock you… I’m only surprised,” she paused again, taking a sip of her tea and gathering her thoughts. “Has you hunter not made more physical advances to you before?”

You shook your head, unsure of the full context in what she was asking, but knowing he’d never do anything to you physically or otherwise, that you were not certain of.

“He’s a good man, whatever this act is that I’m unaware of, I know he would never force it upon me.”

You spoke with such diction, with such poise. Of all the books you’d read in your lifetime, with all the fancy and refined words that were used… never had they described something known as consummation. Perhaps your kidnapper was opposed to you knowing such things. It would have made sense.

“He’s one of few, I’m afraid,” she acknowledged, heaving a deep breath and then finally meeting your eyes again. “I will not speak of this, now… but you will need to know what you’re going into before it happens.”

“I understand.”

“As for now, I need to speak with a few people, first of all Mayfeld. He will begin preparations as soon as the order is given,” she stood from her seat, her navy gown falling in billows around her feet and making her look like a goddess. “You will meet with the dress maker, a design will likely take the most time of anything.”

You followed her to the entranceway of the hall, careful not to trip again on your skirt that was flowing around you.

“I know that it’s your decision to set in stone old and new traditions for Mandalore… but in the past, the wedding gowns have always been blue, so if you’re open to suggestions, that one would be at the top of the list.”

You’d always read that wedding gowns were white in your stories… once in your favorite fairy book, there was a golden gown, worn by the fairy queen herself. You never pictured yourself in a wedding gown before you met Din, but now it was all that filled your mind. Something beautiful and romantic, and… blue. Like the sky, and the ocean, and the stunning sapphire stones on the exterior of the castle. You were sure that a blue dress would look stunning, and it went rather well with your complexion.

“I would love to wear a blue dress.”

Bo Katan had spoken with Mayfeld, along with a few of the other castle staff, before making a beeline for the library. She knew Din liked to take the child there and read most afternoons, since you weren’t able to do it with him as much these days. He was such a good father figure to the little one, as you were a good mother. Bo was certain neither of you would have any issues in raising an heir. The problem would be conceiving one, as you were so unfortunately uneducated to the point that it could hurt you.

She entered the place with a smile, greeting all those who passed her by, acknowledging them with a nod for every bow she received. She couldn’t reach her destination soon enough, as she ventured though all the booths as well as the rows and rows of books.

The hunter and the child were both sat in the very back of the library, leanings against the ornate walls while turning though the pages of a Mandalorian history book. It had years of knowledge dating all the way back to the first King of Mandalore, Tarre Vizsla. She would admit she saw the effort he was putting in to learn everything about this place. She nearly admired the way he took the time to read something of the sort. All for you, no doubt.

She cleared her throat once, causing them to both look up in unison. Din placed the child down, along with the book, and stood to his feet. His bow of respect was cut short by the hand she held out to stop him.

“I need to speak with you, alone,” she gestured to the child. He was none the wiser anyways, but still she insisted, as the subject would be rather mature for little ears to hear.

“I’m not supposed to leave him by h-“

“He will be fine, I only request a few minutes of your time.” Her voice was firm but gentle, as it most times was. Din looked back to Grogu, who had already busied himself with the task of turning to another page of the book. As far as anyone could tell, the child couldn’t even read, but enjoyed books nonetheless. Probably a result of spending hours with you while you read.

He nodded in response to her, following after her footsteps and turning into an aisle a few rows down. It was further away from any other occupants, so hopefully no one else would be listening to the conversation.

“You seem tense,” he noticed, leaning against the book case and crossing his arms. He hadn’t gotten to know the Lady Bo Katan as well as he meant to, and he had hoped he could trust her, she was after all going to be his sister in law.

“This matter is unconventional, I would rather not speak of it.” Her voice didn’t waiver, however, she made a distinct point to avoid his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he should take it as a slight or if she was genuinely uncomfortable by the subject.

“Then don’t.”

She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh, opening them and finally giving him a single glare as she began speaking again.

“Unfortunately, it is a matter of importance concerning the one person we both care about,” she uttered, completely and totally set on telling him. She wished she could have just checked out a book about human anatomy and given it to you, that would be far less painless… these were but mitigating circumstances. “I suggest you let me finish and do not interrupt me.” Then came another pause, and he nodded in understanding. His face seemed more softened towards her, now. Only after hearing this pertained to his fiancé, of course. “She doesn’t understand the process of consummation. I’m not even sure she knows how her own body works. She’s well aware of her cycle, but other than that, she seems completely in the dark.”

She looked to him for a reaction, but he did not have one. She thought he might be surprised or even a little peeved about the situation, but he stood still with the same dulled expression.

“Did you hear what I sai-?”

“Yes,” he stopped her, rolling his eyes and chuckling lowly under his breath. “And I know.”

“You know?” She puzzled curiously, her brows lifted as her head shifted to view him from a side angle. This man was truly a contradiction to the others she’d met in her lifetime. As far as she was aware, men were only after a woman’s virtue, her most intimate offerings and her body as well. It did not make sense that the hunter know about this innocence and keep it intact… much less try and preserve it. You were young, you were naive, and though you were smart you were also a hopeless romantic… he could have easily tricked you into letting him have his way with you, but he didn’t. He instead pushed away the thoughts of his own mind and kept you as pure as he’d found you. “How long?”

“Since the beginning,” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t something to make a big deal over. He was more relaxed now that he knew he wasn’t in trouble, and that you weren’t in any danger. “When I found her, she’d never seen a man in her life… you could just look at her, and know.”

Once she gathered her bearings, and moved past the fact that he was more than aware, she stood straighter, coming up with a new topic that still related to the old and needed discussing.

“Even still… she must learn what is to happen if you ever plan on laying with her.”

Of course he did, and he’d thought about it several times before. That being said, if you weren’t ready to take that step of intimacy even on your wedding night, he would wait, and ease you into it for however long you needed. Since that first day in the woods, and then the second day in the kingdom, he knew the way with you was always going to involve baby steps. He’d never complain, nor would he try and speed the process along. Anything he had with you was worth it, even the first kiss, though clumsy and short, made him feel more than he’d ever felt for a woman he’d been with. It was because you were of pure intentions, and always were. He wanted you, badly, but whatever you chose to do with him would suffice.

“Look, I knew what I was getting myself into. I can explain it to her when-“

“No,” she cut him off immediately, as if he’d uttered a curse and she was scolding him for it. The look on her face showed her disgust, and she had to take a deep breath to help her not lash out. “That would be the most improper thing I’ve ever heard. If anyone is to tell her, it would most certainly not be you.”

He wasn’t embarrassed by the fact that she had called him out, because though he regrets a great portion of his past, he wasn’t ashamed to come from lesser circumstances, neither was he self conscious about the way he spoke so plainly. He was from a different world, but he would not be made to feel as though he didn’t belong in a place such as this, with people such as herself and you.

“Then I suppose you’ll be the one to tell her,” he sighed out, leaning forward as he stopped supporting himself on the shelf behind him. This conversation was coming to a close, and he figured the kid was probably eating the pages of that book by now, so he turned to leave, only looking back over his shoulder to give her a few last words. “Try not to make it sound like torture, alright?”

He knew that you may want to wait, or that you may not be quick to learn on what this act meant, but he sure as hell did not want you to be afraid of it, or of him. He’d never hurt you, never. The first day in your house, with your back against the wall and his arms on either side, trapping you in… he was still gentle when he touched you, unwilling to leave a mark on that lovely soft skin.

When he found the child, he was surprised to see him continuously turning the pages, landing on a space about the armor of the mandalorians. The beskar which weighed almost nothing, but was impenetrable to almost all weapons. The portrait in the book shown a tall King, one who wore the most beautiful set of silver pieces. It adorned him well, and the helmet, though confining, seemed like an honor to behold.

The child turned to him, having seen that he arrived, and pointed to the man on the page, gurgling some gibberish as Din sat back down with his small green companion.

“I gotta get me one, huh?”

Every turn you took down the halls for the next week was surrounded by preparations. All the beautiful decorations in the colors of blue and purple with hints of silver. A traditional Mandalorian wedding had not been held since your mother wed your father… that’s what everyone said, anyway.

You were sometimes sad when people mentioned your parents, only for the fact that you never knew them. You mourned over them in a different way than most did, differently than your sister did. She had told you a few stories, mostly just things her youthful mind remembered. The beautiful strawberry blonde hair of your mother, and the piercing eyes of your father. It wasn’t enough to feel a connection to them, but you tried your best to picture what they might have been like now.

Bo Katan also told you that they were brought into their marriage as an arrangement, only growing to love each other after the first year together. She explained about the expectation for rules to produce an heir, something you would have to do.

“Does this have anything to do with consummation?” You whispered until you walked through the doors of her chambers, as though you weren’t aware the contents, you figured she kept it as a hushed topic for a reason.

“It has everything to do with it, actually,” she paused, turning to her desk in which held a few books she was browsing in the past day or so. She preferred more logical books, filled with facts and reasoning, ones that could give knowledge of the useful sense. You wondered why she did not have a single story amongst them, for surely imagination kept people like her from going mad. “Speaking of which, I know you like to read. This will tell you everything you need to know.”

You received the small book with open hands, looking down to read the cover. You furrowed your brows a bit at the strange imaging they placed with the title, but kept your mind open, since you really had no idea about any of this. You would learn, though.

“Human Reproduction,” you read, raising your brows and giving a slight chuckle. She nodded, opening the cover and sifting through a few pages until she found the correct section. “Male anatomy…?”

You knew very little of this topic, but you weren’t stupid. You understood the difference between a man and a woman by all the small marble statues your kidnapper used to bring home to decorate the house in the woods. You had a very good idea of what men looked like before you ever saw one, the only problem was that Din had far exceeded your expectations… which is why you were afraid of him at first. The look you shot her made her believe that perhaps you weren’t so naive that this would all be shocking to you. It was almost a weight off her shoulders, really.

“Alright, then start here,” she flipped to another section, pointing to the page and letting you glance over it.

“Process of begetting, and the seed of life.” You would admit this was a new one. You always wondered how women came to be with child, and how you might possibly one day as well. The first page seemed filled with information, along with some helpful images to help explain. You looked back to her with a smile and a short nod before taking the book and walking towards the door.

“Oh, and one more thing?” She called to you, and you turned back around, awaiting her final words before you walked out into the castle halls once more. “I want you to know that I think greatly of your hunter, and I’m glad he found you.”

You smiled to her, unable to stop the wide spread of your grin as Din was mentioned. Someone of high status, a true royal raised and taught what was proper and what wasn’t. She thought well of him, someone whom others might see as that which is beneath them.

“Thank you, sister,” you spoke, addressing her by the title you’d taken to calling her lately. You practically skipped out of the room, turning down halls and running barefoot through the castle until you found the large window nook, with a comfortable seat and a fantastic view. Other than the beautiful couch in your quarters, this had become your favorite place to read.

The introduction was short, and this specific chapter simply dove right in to the act itself. The next page was rigidly long, and had several drawings to help your mind understand… though it was all very frightening to grasp at first. Your eyes widened and you had to drag them away from those pictures and back to the top of the page in order to read what you were supposed to.

“Sexual Intercourse is the basis for all human reproduction,” you read off the first sentence, sighing in defeat when you realized what this meant. That scary drawing on the page of a man entering a woman was something you would have to recreate if you were to get pregnant and produce an heir. It frightened you, and you started breathing heavily while thinking about it until you slammed the book closed, taking some deep breaths and focusing on looking out the window. You could even see Din on his way back from the city, walking though the gates with Grogu in his arms. They had been doing so well together, and you knew that should you ever become pregnant and have a child, Din would make an amazing father… it was only the process of conception that was making you feel eerie.

Why couldn’t Grogu just be considered the heir? You claimed him as your son, and so did Din… so why was there going to be pressure on you to have a baby when there was a perfectly good one in your possession. True, he was of a different species, and true, he aged far slower than that of a human… but in the future he could eventually learn the ways of the kingdom.

You hated that this act of sexual intimacy scared you, because the book had called it something of a miracle, a process of which could bring actual life, and yet? You wanted no part of it.

Perhaps it only seemed scary because of the way it was shown to you, and maybe if Din could tell you more, you would feel better. He had surely done this many times, and could help you come to terms with all the aspects. You wondered why you did not just go to him in the first place. He knew you were innocent, he wouldn’t have judged you or made you feel foolish for not knowing of such things. He’d always been so patient to show you everything before.

You reopened the book to the page you were on, leaning back against the window and using the light to read more. You would do all the reading just to make sure you understood it correctly, then tonight you would ask Din. You only hoped you would be able to sneak into his room, as guards in the castle have been stationed closer to your room at night than usual.

Once you finished the section, you went on about your day, trying to keep everything but the welfare of the kingdom pushed to the very back of your mind.

It was all a haze of rushed meetings, people wanting or needing to be in other places throughout the remainder of the day. You met with the dress maker, too… but she was certain you had become distracted only minutes into sitting down with her. Your eyes kept traveling about the room when she spoke, and not because you were ignoring her, far from it actually. You wished you could listen and hear of all the plans she was making for the gown you both had discussed. The beautiful design had been sketched onto parchment for you to view, and looked exquisite, but she could tell your mind was elsewhere when you complimented her work, normally you were much more enthusiastic and excited.

“What troubles you, your highness?”

You looked up at her from the page to see her concerned gaze. You weren’t sure if this was a topic you should share with just anyone, as Bo Katan had been so hushed about it prior to giving you the book.

“I’m just nervous, I suppose,” you began, an anxious smile forming to try and deflect from your actual stress over the matter. “I’ve never been married before.”

She chuckled, nodding along as she realized what you must have meant.

“Being a young bride such as yourself, it’s perfectly normal to experience cold feet.”

“Cold feet?” You slanted a brow, tilting your head to convey that you didn’t understand.

“It’s just an expression, darling. It simply means that you are frightened about something before it happens… but have no worries,” she took your hand, giving it a small squeeze of encouragement before letting it go. “I can tell you are in love with your intended, it’s that special shine in your eyes.”

You breathed out a soft laugh, smiling with a red glow on your cheeks. Oh, did you love him, but that was not the problem in all of this. You could not wait for your duties to be completed, the anxiety was built in the pit of your stomach.

“I am in love with him,” you responded gently, handing her back her sketches to pin up on the board beside her. It also had a few fabric swatches, and tiny gems that you assumed would be attached to the dress in some way.

“Then all will be well.”

You certainly hoped so, it was circling your mind on a loop that never seemed to end, even later that evening after everything had been completed, and the royals parted off to their rooms. You were sat at your vanity, whilst your favorite handmaiden Elise tended to your hair, raking through it with a comb to rid it of all the tangles provided by the long day. She sensed your tense nature, and you could tell, as she gave you slightly concerned glances in the mirror from time to time. You were only happy that she did not ask about anything, for that would only make it worse. Every person who tried to make you feel better about this upcoming union had inadvertently stirred the pot of your emotions further.

Once she left you to your bed chambers, you waited as many minutes as you could, for though you knew it was risky to leave early, you couldn’t help yourself but leave. You wrapped yourself in a thin dressing gown, tucking the book under your arm before carefully heading out into the halls. You were never heard upon the marble floors, as you were the only royal who refused to wear shoes all hours of the day. It made for an easy journey, uninterrupted by curious guards or even others who heard racket outside of their rooms.

The moon was high in the sky, shining through the stain glass windows and creating brilliant colors to be painted upon the ground. The ambience of the castle late at night was something so pleasing, so soothing, and the cold marble beneath your feet helped to cool off whatever heat you’d retained from your overwhelming stress. You reached the door quickly, laying two soft knocks on the wood and backing up to wait.

Din had been with Grogu until nightfall, handing him off to Peli before heading back to his living space. It was well known by now that he had been the thief to steal the darksaber, and though it now rested in the hands of the rightful ruler by his doing, he still got quite a few stingy looks here and there by staff and other court members. There were a lot of people that had come to love you as Queen, but they were very weary of your choice for a partner. Some couldn’t even bare to think that he was actually going to receive a consort title.

He bore all the hateful glares within the castle willingly, because to him, things hadn’t changed much since when he was only a commoner. People passing him by on the streets, seeing the infamous masked figure roaming about their town, they would send the same looks his way as these pristine upperclass living castle dwellers.

He hoped that it might wear off eventually. It never bothered him, but he didn’t want to live his whole life as an outcast. He had every right to be here, just like all the othe just like you. You’d told him so time and time again, that he was as princely as it could possibly get. He was so handsome, with a rugged charm that could get him out of anything. His eyes were like entire galaxies, darkness in the irises, but with hints of light reflecting off them as stars. These were the descriptions of him from your eyes, and he’d like to believe they were true. He loved to know that even if he didn’t see himself this way, someone did, and loved him all the same.

He sat back onto his bed, his back hurting suddenly as these thoughts racked through his brain. He wanted to seem perfectly fine, like his healing was complete and this wedding could happen even sooner, but he could not lie. His bones still ached, and his muscles felt weaker than before. He reached up behind his head, yanking his shirt off before standing again and going to the mirror in the corner of his room. He never had a mirror like this. Never was he concerned with his looks or even how others perceived him. He had always worn a mask, anyway. Now that he had a looking glass in his room, he always felt more self-conscious about what stared back at him. In comparison to you, he felt he was but little. Especially now that he could see clearly all the scars on his body. Someone so tainted as himself didn’t deserve to be with someone so pure, so perfect. Your skin was untouched, clean of any altercations.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the most meek sounding knock at his door. It rung only twice, and he rushed over to answer it knowing who had come so late.

There you stood, looking so soft and angelic. Your dressing gown was almost sheer, and the nightgown made of silk left little to the imagination, but he caught the look of uncertainty in your eyes and was instantly more concerned about what you came for than how you came dressed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to send for you earlier, I skipped dinner in the great hall to meet with the dressmaker,” you explained, hoping he would understand and that all was forgiven. He didn’t even see any wrongs in what you’d done, though.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, sweet girl,” he opened the door further, allowing you to step inside. He did notice the glazed state your eyes held when you glanced down at his chest. It was much easier to see his body in this lighting than it had been in the dungeon. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You smiled, waiting for him to shut the door and meet you on the bed, where you so conveniently took your place up by his pillows. He had yet to notice the book you came accompanied by, and now that you were here, you were worried to even bring it up.

“Din?”

He nodded in response, letting you know he was listening to every word, and sat beside you atop the duvet. His skin looked so warm and inviting in this light, it was almost straining you to keep from laying a finger upon his shoulder and dragging it down the expanse of his chest.

“I just,” you couldn’t find the right words, and also had a bit of trouble in meeting his eyes. It was only when he brought his thumb to your chin, lifting your face until you met his eyeline. “I have a few things to ask you, about this book.”

He furrowed his brows, finally realizing what you’d clutched tightly to your body this whole time. He held his hands out to take it, and you willingly handed it over, feeling good to be rid of it for once this day.

He read the cover and immediately let out a sigh. Bo Katan had taken the easy route, not even trying to sit you down and explain it in her own words. No wonder you looked so scared, the words in this book had probably already planted a bad image in your mind about what this act was, and how it was to be done. He was quite furious at the fact that Lady Kryze had one job to do, and she shoved it off on a book.

“How much did you read?” He turned back to you with a soft gaze, unsure how he should go about this. There weren’t exactly instructions for this conversation.

“Almost all of it,” you admitted, your voice was unsure, and the inflections told him you didn’t like what you read. It was clear on your face, you despised the book he held. “I came to you because I wondered if perhaps you could tell me more… like if it will be painful, or if I need to do anything to-“

“Slow down, mesh’la…” he trailed off, bringing his hands to your shoulders and trying to help you calm yourself. You hadn’t realized how much you breathing had changed in only a second.

“I’m afraid of it,” you let out, being able to take slow breaths now and focus on the way he held you steady, keeping you grounded.

This was what he had been scared of in the beginning. If only he had just ignored Bo Katan’s wishes and told you after she approached him, you probably would view everything differently.

“It’s okay,” he nodded, acknowledging your fear before scooting closer to you and doing his best to fix what has been done. “I know it looks scary, and you don’t need to feel pressured to do anything until you’re ready to do it, I promise.”

“But I have obligations, we have to produce an heir.”

This sentence worried him. Not only were you so scared of having sex that you didn’t even want to do it for the reason it was intended, but you already felt pressured by others to conform and go through with it. You already felt like you would be a disappointment if you didn’t.

“We don’t need to worry about that right now. Listen to me, alright? It’s up to you to set boundaries, and it’s up to me to make sure those boundaries are upheld, understand?” His hand had found its way to your cheek, and your nod gave him a bit of peace, knowing there was still more work to do. “And I know that it seems like torture, I’ve seen books like this, they take all the good parts out and only leave the stuff that scares people.”

“It just seems like a horribly painful thing to do,” you opened the book, unashamedly showing him the drawings you’d been flipping to all day. The page was well worn by now, and easy to find. He wasn’t surprised by your openness to look upon such things with him, because he knew you were unaware of the proper standards of them.

“Yes, well I can understand why you would think that,” he gave a face of disgust to the poorly done drawing, the basic positioning of the people in it and the awkward way they were entangled. The look on the woman’s face didn’t help, either.

“You’ve done this many times, haven’t you?” You weren’t concerned with the other women who may have been in this position with him, only because you knew that he was no longer in connection with them, only you.

“Not like that, no.”

You furrowed your brows, waiting for him to explain. He seemed to have a much different view, and you hoped you would have a chance to see it his way.

“I won’t lie to you, sweet girl… it might hurt the first time.” He avoided your eyes, because just thinking about causing you pain, even inadvertently, didn’t feel right to him. It twisted his stomach, to think that in order to pleasure you, he would first have to hurt you. “But it can feel really good, too.”

“It can feel good?” You almost looked shocked. You glanced back to the book and then to his face, almost cringing at the drawing that was forever burned in your mind. “I just… don’t know how it could. Even the precautions taken for my monthly cycles are painful.”

He nodded, trying to ease this idea into your mind as gently as possible. He cursed Bo Katan for ever giving you that book. She knew you liked to read, but this wasn’t information that should have been passed along through pages.

“I know, but there are ways that I can help you relax. I can even go down on you, if you want,” he said, but knew as soon as the words left his lips that you would have no idea what he was talking about. Your tilted head while looking at him with slanted eyes told him to try again, in different words. “It’s something else that I can do to make you feel good.”

You wondered if since this wasn’t technically part of the sexual reproduction process, that he might be able to show you.

“Can we try it now?”

His brows raised and he dropped his jaw momentarily before shaking off his initial shock and looking back to your innocent expression. He took your hand in his, holding it tightly and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m not sure if we should, mesh’la.”

He wasn’t repulsed by the idea, and he knew that since everyone was in bed this was the perfect opportunity. He was however afraid of what volumes may be heard from the room.

“Please?” You practically begged, looking at him with the purest expression on your face. “If there’s something I can do for you, too, I’ll do it. I want to learn how…”

Several months ago this would have been like a dream to him, having a willing girl who wanted him to show her all that sex had to offer. Now, though… in this very room where you both sat so close together on his bed, he was nervous. He’d never been nervous to have intimate relations with someone before, and he realized it was because he cared so much. He didn’t want to do anything wrong and make you resent him. He loved you to the moon and back, and though he longed to please you, he was hesitant.

“We’ll be married in a few days, I promise I’ll show you then, alright?”

“Alright.”

You flipped up the covers on his bed, sliding in on the side you most preferred, looking at him to do the same. Sleeping beside you was one thing he’d never object to, and he knew that since the death of Gideon, there was no need to hide the fact that you were together in the night. You were queen, and could do as you wished. He pulled your body close to his once he’d gotten settled, and kissed the crown of your head. The best thing that had ever happened to him was you, and of course, the kid. He can’t even imagine having a life without you in it, because it would probably only be more hunting and thievery, his old ways that he hoped to forget. You were his everything, you had saved him from an eventual death sentence, rather it be by Gideon or others, he knew if you hadn’t been there, he would have at some point been killed.

He let these thoughts circle his mind as you both drifted off into slumber, forgetting all about the horrid book that fell on the floor.

The afternoon of your wedding, you paced back and forth around the room, complaining about the rules that had been set in place ahead of time. You wore a chemise and corset, waiting for the rest of your dress to be brought to the room. Your hair and face were done earlier, and having to wait long periods of time in between made you even more nervous.

“I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to see him,” you ranted on towards Bo Katan, sitting in the corner of the room, already wearing her silver gown and trying to take a sip of her tea. “Only a few minutes would help.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to keep them on the small tray of good brought to the room a few minutes prior. You hadn’t stopped moving the entire day, a relentless ball of energy that bounced like rubber.

“It’s a tradition to keep the bride away from the groom until the wedding. You yourself thought it would be a good idea as of yesterday,” she reminded, noting the conversation of how everything would go. Yesterday was the last of the preparations, and this morning you awoke with nothing to do… that was part of the problem. You didn’t have any way to keep busy and now your feet were getting cold… literally. The marble beneath your bare feet felt like ice at the moment, hence your constant movement. “It’s only going to be another hour or two, so sit down and breath. You’re giving me a headache.”

She wanted to act like your behavior annoyed her, but even you caught the slight smirk on her face when she spoke to you. She was enjoying these moments, together as sisters, but more importantly, as friends.

“He’s probably doing the same thing I am, and Grogu won’t exactly help him calm down.”

She set her tea cup down on the small circular table, and stood up from the seat. She wanted to keep everyone’s composure, but you seemed to be falling apart right now, as it were.

“Do you love him?”

You furrowed your brow, unsure of what she was getting at, before nodding rapidly. “Yes, of course I do.”

“And do you want to marry him?” Her next question made you even more confused. What did this have to do with your nerves?

“More than anything.”

“Then keep your mind on that. Keep thinking about how excited you are to see him when you walk down that aisle.”

It was sound advice, and while thinking about it, you noticed you’d finally stopped pacing around the room, stood in one place. A knock sounding on the door brought you out of your thoughts, and you raced to open in, mindless of who might be standing there.

“Your highness, I was-“ Advisor Mayfeld stopped his words short upon seeing your current state of dress, eyes widening and wandering before he snapped out of it and lowered his gaze to the ground. It was widely known around the castle that you did not carry a sense of modesty when it came to things such as this. You thought of it as silly that a woman need cover up even more than you were now, unless she really wanted to. If you didn’t love galavanting through the castle halls in the flowing skirts and dresses, you would probably live life in your undergarments, or they were really all you needed. Mayfeld took in a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of what he’d seen. “The dressmaker is brining your garments, I told her I would make sure you’d been prepped… and as I’ve already seen, you are in fact prepped.”

You chuckled, taking the dressing robe from off the chair and wrapping it around your body for his sake. He was rather shy until you did so, and now that he saw the fabric swinging by your feet, he was able to finally look up.

“Thank you, Miggs… I have appreciated all your service today. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” you told him, a sweet smile appearing on your cheeks. He was so kind to do so many of the things he did for you, and you felt in his debt for it all.

“For me? I couldn’t ask for anything, your highness. Only that you are happy on this day.”

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, pulling away for see a blush spread across his face. He looked as if he wasn’t sure what to do, now. You thought you would spare him from having to figure it out himself.

“How is Din? Has he been anxious like me?” Your tone was rather playful, but you were very serious. You hoped he was alright, that there was no chance of him backing out. Truly, you knew he would never do that… but the doubtful part of you remembered his past, free of commitments and with the ability to go wherever he wanted.

You watched as Mayfeld’s face turned comical, and he almost laughed if it weren’t for the fact that he had an answer on the tip of his tongue.

“Anxious is not a good enough word, I’m afraid,” he bit his lip between sentences to keep hold of the laughter. “I’ve never seen the poor man so high strung.”

You understood now that Din was not nervous about commitment, or being with you, but about the anticipation of it all. Just as you were having to reel yourself into reality one moment at a time, you thought that maybe Din would have to do the same. You only hoped that Grogu was being helpful and not a tiny terror for him to deal with additionally.

Since the door was already open, the team of dress handlers and the maker herself walked through and into the room. They all marveled at you for a few moments before shooing Mayfeld into the hall and closing the door. The dress was in so many pieces, it was hard to keep up with what they were showing you.

You tried to nod along as if you understood half of what they were saying, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. Bo tried to keep her giggles of amusement to herself, but even she couldn’t help it… it was too happy of a day to keep everything inside for once.

The order of the dress layers went as follows: A small crinoline with scalloped ruffles hanging off the ends, a giant elliptical caged hoop-skirt, three layers of floor length petticoats that featured over two hundred yards of gathered flounces, two white underskirts, a mystical pearlized skirt layer, a lilac silk layer, a teal silk layer, and a soft transparent blue layer, topped with the shiniest, smallest gemstones you could ever imagine. Lastly came the beautiful bodice, of which had a narrow waistline, and a beautiful soft bertha across the shoulders to broaden your frame. It had tiny butterflies hand sewn into each tuck of fabric, and looked absolutely exquisite.

They ushered you towards the mirror, making you to look at yourself in the full wedding day glory they had achieved. You were speechless. You grew up reading fairytales about princesses and fairies, magical beings with dresses unlike no other. They always seemed like radiant angels when you read about them, you pictured them that way, too. Now, you couldn’t even believe your eyes. You had become a real life fairytale, in every way. This would be your magical wedding day, and the prince on the other side was your dream come true. He was beautiful, and held so much gentility in his large and capable body. You’d never know the things he was capable of by watching him, for his acts of sweetness were like that of a young school boy. You loved him so, and hoped he would like this dress as much as you did.

“I’ve never felt more beautiful in all my life,” you nearly cried, a small bit of fogginess coming to your eyes. “I am certain I will wear this dress until the last possible second.”

“We are so glad you’re pleased, dearest,” the dress maker came to you and took your hand into her own. “Your hunter is sure to be astonished.”

You smiled at her statement, and otherly at the way she mentioned Din as the hunter. Everyone still called him that, even though after today he was a prince consort. He would wear the title of royalty, and be your right hand at the throne. He would help you through all the trials of being a monarch, and he would do good for the people of this kingdom, you were sure of it.

You took a trial spin around the room, catching the beauty of the dress in the mirror. It sparkled like diamonds and moved like a watercolor painting.

“Your highness, we must be leaving soon, your carriage has arrived.”

You turned to the woman with a smile, nodding and beginning to follow her along with everyone else down the halls. It took two people to load you into the carriage once you got to it. The only other person allowed in was your sister, and even that was frowned upon, but by no means were you going to arrive by your lonesome. You were already as nervous as one can possibly be, and being alone on the journey to the grand church would have been all too much.

Looking out the window, you could have sworn you saw the outline of another carriage identical to this one, which was parked in place outside the grand entrance. Din was already here, and would be waiting at the altar for your arrival. Given the amount of other transportation outside, you were positive that the number of guests was rather large…. But the anticipation of finally being here, so close to seeing your love. It was as exciting as it was calming, and you prepared to disembark from the carriage as the doors were opened. “Watch the step, your majesty,” Mayfeld came to your side and met you by the opening, giving you a hand as the dress came spilling out of the carriage. He hadn’t seen the dress until now, and with you wearing it, he was entranced for a moment. “You look lovely…”

“Thank you, I feel lovely,” you spoke through a wide grin, feeling as though it was going to be a regular occurrence throughout the night. He had a red tint to his cheeks while interacting with you, and you weren’t sure why, but he seemed happy to be in your presence at least.

“It’s just right this way,” he offered his arm, but Bo Katan jumped in front of you, and you realized you’d forgotten something.

“Our florist would be in shambles if you left these in the carriage.”

Of course, your bouquet of white roses, the tips of the petals dyed blue to match your dress. Everything had been orchestrated so well, and you were in awe of everyone’s wonderful talents.

“Good luck,” she murmured, going on ahead of you and entering first.

Walking up the steps to the door, you heard the music begin to play. It was melodious and welcoming, and the second you were to be seen, everyone rose from their seats. It was intimidating as first, and made your blood run cold… until you saw him. Standing at the end of the pathway, all decked out in princely garb. He was stunning, but in your eyes, he always was. You locked eyes and from that moment, everything melted away. The people were gone from the room, and the music was only a faint echo in your mind. There was nothing now that could separate the two of you, and as you reached the end of the aisle you understood why. Your connection was strong, stronger than the force you held, and stronger than the past that kept you apart for so long.

He had tears in his eyes, and tried to blink them away as he took your hands in his. You handed your flowers to Bo, who’d stood beside you to your left.

“You’re so beautiful, sweet girl…”

You tried your best to keep yourself composed, as tears would surely ruin the hard work that was put into your face today… but you should have known you couldn’t help it when it came to him.

“And you look so handsome, my love,” you responded with, though it turned into a whisper at the end. He gave your hand a squeeze and and raised it to his lips for a kiss.

You both turned to face the front, and the minister began his long spiel.

“Marriage! Marriage is what brings us together today…”

After the service, everyone returned to the castle to retire for the evening. As per Mandalorian tradition, it was custom for the reception of the wedding to happen the day after the ceremony. It would then last a duration of two entire days while the newlyweds accepted gifts from neighboring kingdoms. Though tired from the day, you excitedly dragged Din by the hand through the halls to your new living quarters.

The King’s suite was even more magnificent than you imagined it would be, with the elaborate decor that well reflected the culture of this kingdom while also being comfortable and sooting. It was a beautiful blue and gold combination, the contrast in color was strong but it suited the beauty of the room.

Your dress was chasing behind you as you ran to the center of the suite and tossed yourself onto your back, sprawling out across the feather soft bed. You barely took up a quarter of the mattress, even with your monumentally sized gown. Your fit of giggles and love-crazy sighs were heard echoing across the room, and as Din closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but smile at his beautiful, happy girl.

“You look comfortable,” he chided, sitting down onto the bed beside you and leaning over to stroke his fingers through your hair. You beamed up at him, your husband, the man whom at first had just stumbled into the worst possible hiding place in the entire world. Now he calls you his wife, and there’s nothing else you’d rather be.

“I would be if I could get this dress off. It’s gorgeous, but I don’t think it’s the best attire for bed.”

You sat up and reached behind you to start taking off the layers, but your hands couldn’t even reach the hooks on the back of the bodice. Damn be the beautiful, puffy bertha, which stood in the way of your shoulder’s full movement.

“Can you help me?” You turned to him, his face was hiding a smirk, and you could tell he found your struggle amusing.

“I think you almost had it,” he chided, a chuckle evident in his tone. You stopped what you were doing and faced him, moving the layers of your dress aside to sit partially on his lap. His expression changed almost immediately when you took his hands in yours, placing them on the back of your bodice. You looked him straight in the eyes, wanting him to understand your meaning in ridding yourself of the dress.

“Take it off.”

He hesitated… he’s never done that before.

“Mesh’la, are you sure?” He was so unsure of himself, afraid to make a wrong move or to scare you somehow.

“I am, I promise,” you whispered, leaning close to him and capturing his lips with your own, just like you’d done a hundred times before.

It was passionate, but it was easy after that… he slowly and expertly stripped away each layer, going back and forth and allowing you to do the same for him every time to make sure everything was comfortable for you. You misunderstood why you’d been so nervous in the days before, as now this act of love felt like it would be the best part of your life together… and oh how simple it was coming to you, the feel of him was something foreign but somehow familiar. Like you’d done it before, although you never had. Once you were bare of everything but your corset and chemise, he took his time in gently unlacing the material at your back, loosing it enough to unclasp the busk at your front. He tossed the corset to the ground with everything else, and one by one slid the straps of your chemise over your shoulders. He’s seen you in multiple states of undress before, but nothing could have prepared him for what you body looked like in its purest form.

He laid you back against the bed, being careful to maneuver himself around you as he removed his final undergarment. You spared only one glance downwards, trying to keep your eyes with his. They calmed you, and made you feel at peace.

“Can we try what you mentioned before?” You asked curiously, your mind wandering back to the conversation of a few nights prior. It was something he’d not soon forgotten, and it would be his pleasure to give you what you wanted.

“Of course, my love,” he leaned down and stole a quick kiss, before trailing his lips down the expanse of your body, the touch ever so ghostly and light. “Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop.”

You wondered why there could possibly be a reason to stop. Everything he’d done so far has given you the best feelings in the world.

Lowering his head closer to your heat, he exhaled, the warm wind of his breath shooting a tingling sensation through you. You instinctually wove your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to keep on. He went on to slowly lick a stripe up your center, and instantly you were on cloud nine. You were helpless to stop any sound that escaped you from now on.

He held a gentle hand over your hips, to stop them from bucking unintentionally, then he went back again, more ferociously this time. He used his mouth and tongue to further your pleasure, using his other hand to introduce a finger to your entrance.

“Din,” your sigh of his name was like a melody in his mind, and he used it as motivation.

You were so sensitive, it was unreal.

“Tell me how it feels, mesh’la..”

“Feels..” you momentarily trailed off, trying to grab ahold of any words that you could still speak. “Feels amazing.”

When he felt you begin to clench around his finger, he continued faster with his pace, ready to see what it was like when you let it all go. He was addicted to hearing you, and feeling you in this state. So angelic, so perfect, and all for him.

You squeezed the fistful of his hair in your fingers, feeling it all become undone within your body, with a wave of relief and a sensation of bliss washing over you.

Immediately he was back over you, watching with intent and helping you to ride out that luxurious feeling. It was something you felt like chasing again, but this time you needed him to feel that same ecstasy, needed to see him in this blissed out state you felt surround you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back for a kiss that tasted ever so slightly like salt.

His hold on you was so gentle, so delicate. He knew for a fact that you were not made of glass, but his subconscious may have lead his hands to believe that you were. He handled you with such care and utter devotion. This was his way of showing your effect on him… the way you made him lose his aggression and rough exterior, call it weakness, or call it true strength.

He positioned you in a way that he thought would be the most secure, your head resting on his forearm which he’d slipped beneath. He kept the other hand against the bed to brace himself, finally resting his hips between your spread legs. He was careful not to make any sudden movements, as now when you got close to the act itself, you seemed to show how anxious you really were over it. He wasn’t by any means a small man, and that fact alone was scary to think about. Your arms, though still wrapped around his neck for warmth, had nearly begun trembling against him.

“Tell me to stop, Mesh’la…”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I need this… need to do this with you.”

He wasn’t sure if there was a pressure you felt, and he wanted to know if perhaps that was the case. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to him in this sense. This was something he craved for you to enjoy, and if you couldn’t, then he didn’t want any part in it.

“You don’t need to,” he paused, taking a breath and trying to calm himself down from the daze you’d put him into only moments ago. “Not if you don’t want you.”

Without missing a beat, you used one of your hands to make him look at you, to have him focus all of his attention on your eyes.

“I do want this, only with you.”

He saw that glint of sincerity in your eyes, it told him you were in this the whole way, and you were only nervous of how it would go. Truth be told, he was, too. He wanted nothing more than to make love to you all through the night and into the morning, but the speed of which it would have to take place could not be rushed.

He nodded, looking back down to where your bodies were almost joined, using his hand to guide himself towards your heat. You had ached for him by now, but once he stretched you open even the slightest bit, you squeezed your eyes closed, letting one hand befall the bed to clench the sheets in your fist. Of all the physical pain you bore in your life, you didn’t expect this to be as bad as it was.

Din stopped his movements and whispered soft words to you.

“Hey, open those eyes.” His voice was quiet, and soothing, “just look at me, alright? Keep those pretty eyes on me, sweet girl.”

You forced your gaze to his, focusing on the dark brown pools of bliss you’d fallen so deeply in love with. You were able to even your breathing, though it wasn’t until now that you realized it had been out of sorts. You reached the hand that had fallen, placing it at the side of his face. It was a grounding action, and helped to numb the slight pain that still pulsed. He turned his head to kiss your palm, his eyes closing as he savored the small and seemingly insignificant moment in all of this.

“Take a deep breath in,” he instructed quietly. He was so good to help you find the best way of experiencing such a thing. Though he regrets all of the meaningless conquests of his past, you were quite thankful for them, now. It was through his years of experience that you were now being well taken care of. “Breath out.”

As soon as you exhaled, he gently slid in further, nearly bottoming out within the pit of your stomach. He was restraining every muscle in his body from giving even the slightest thrust, because you just weren’t ready yet. He had to bury his face into your neck, softly biting the flesh to try and keep a sense of control. You whimpered at the feeling of his lips on your skin again, as well as the feeling of fullness you’d yet to experience until this moment.

“Keep breathing, love,” he staggered out into the spot behind your ear. He was well on his way by now, and the little sounds you made while he simply laid here with you like this, not even moving yet… it was driving him crazy. He’d had dozens of women in his chambers late at night, but never did he love them, and that was the difference. That was the reason he was so hellbent on making you feel everything good, and to hell with whatever he got out of it.

“Kiss me?” You asked him sweetly, eyes trying to meet his, though his face was still nestled into the confines of you shoulder and neck. He did not let your request go unanswered. Kissing you was one of the things he liked doing best. His lips were so swollen, but then again, yours must have been, too.

He couldn’t help the small movement of his hips retreating and sinking back in, it was too natural of a movement, and you felt so good around him. He was a victim of remaining still for too long.

You tensed up, slightly unsure of the unexpected movement, and he backed away several inches from you in fear that he may have caused some pain unintentionally.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking aside and holding himself still once more for a time indefinite. This was supposed to be slow, and he felt that even just rushing one part of it could ruin everything. He wanted it to be perfect, because you were perfect… damn him if he should tarnish that.

“Do it again.” Your whispered command hit his ears like music. He focused back on your face, seeing the lust form in your eyes. He’d never seen that glaze before, but it looked good on you.

Who was he to deny you? He slowly withdrew once before he gave a slight thrust this time, testing the waters of what you could handle. If your heavy breathing was any indication, only being interrupted by little noises of pleasure, he’d say you were taking it very well. After a few more slow movements, he found a rhythm that seemed to have just fallen over his hips naturally. He had never known pleasure like this before, where all he had to do was look at you and it spread through him like wildfire.

He escalated his pace only slightly, taking note of every expression change on your face. When he noticed the blissed out look wash over you, he understood how good he was making you feel, and that drove him closer to a high he had been building up to for weeks, now. He captured your lips in a kiss that lasted only a second, and pressed his forehead to yours thereafter.

“You’re doing so good f’me, mesh’la,” he choked out, leaning on his one arm while moving the other down by your hip. He massaged the skin slowly, kneading it and letting it slightly redden beneath his fingers. He wanted to touch you everywhere, all at once… to feel your entire being and to worship it in its entirety.

He didn’t even realize how fast his speed picked up until he could hear the sound of his hips repeatedly hitting yours. It wasn’t rough, and it wasn’t hard, but it was fast, and getting faster. Your cries of needing release were left from your lips, though you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the sounds you made, only the grunts and groans and whispers falling from the mouth of your lover.

“Taking me so good, sweet girl… so good.”

“Din…” You were like putty in his hands, and the knot in your stomach that was closer to unraveling was making you feel like you were at the edge of another release. You wanted it, needed it, badly.

“I know you’re close, my love.”

He was on the verge of his own high, but chased yours first. He gathered your knee into his hand that straggled down by your hip, hoisting it up and over his back in order to give you a new sensation, the angle he thrusted into now caused a shaky whimper to leave your parted lips. Your lower half started shaking, and your hips involuntarily bucked into him for more. You weren’t even sure you had control over it, but it helped to get you even further towards the release.

It was like fire burning in the pit of your core, aching and begging to be extinguished. He leaned back down towards your ear, and you could hear every little sound he made. Every little grunt or gasp or breath was right there, and it caused something in you to snap.

All at once you felt a relief in your body, washing over you in the most pleasure you felt you could ever know. It was euphoric, and purely bliss. You clung to Din, digging your fingertips into his back and shoulders while you breathed shakily on the way down from the elation. Not long after did he jerk his hips forward once more, spilling out a warmth within you that felt heavenly. He held you like you were his lifeline, the very air that he breathed.

He’d never been so satisfied before. This was everything he ever needed and more.

“You’re amazing, y’know?”

You looked to see his smile, and by chain reaction, you began to smile as well. He was so pretty like this, his tan skin all covered with a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was messy and curls hung down in his face. He was a vision of loveliness, and he was all for you. Your husband, the wonderful treasure of your life.

”I love you, Din Djarin,” you spoke with just a breath, removing a curl from his eyes.

“And I love you… the most beautiful girl in all the world.”

Tags:

@i-ameri-cant@littlemisspascal@fanfics-toread@icanbeyourjedi@castleallherown@mysticalgalaxysalad @princess-prettyy @67impalagirl13@agingerindenial@childrenofthewatch@insomniac-nerd-posts-things@marjoherbo@juletheghoul-main@tiredbuthappy@themand0lorian@janebby@goldielocks2004@yuiopiklmn @oh-no-who-am-i @appleejuice @luxmundee @belovedadam @seninjakitey @harriedandharassed @notsosecretspy

#din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin royalty!au #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x princess!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #grogu

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jasmariswonderland · 27 days ago

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The Promise in the Cradle (Silver x OC)

Hey everyone!

This is the first of several excerpts I’m sharing of Vidaria’s overblot au, To the Shadows She Draws Near. Because book 7 is still going on (and progressing WAY differently than I expected), it might be a while before I can complete this story in full. But these dive a little deeper into Vidi’s backstory with this first one chronicling her first meeting with Silver!

I shared this a while back when the most recent twst en update first went live on jp. But I’ve recently made a few changes so I’m sharing it again. No content warnings (yet) but you might feel a little sad for Silver and Vidaria at the end. 😭

~~~

As the royal squire announced their arrival, the princess kept her gaze to the ground. Following a few steps behind her father with the importance of this first meeting weighing heavily upon her young shoulders, akin to a thick velvet mantle. She stopped briefly and raised her eyes long enough to watch her father pay homage to the Knight of Dawn, who greeted him warmly. This land, after decades of war, had finally embraced peace, forging an alliance between humans and the fae of the Seelie court. Now with the birth of the Dawn Knight’s son, the time had come to solidify this alliance and assure peace between the humans and fae for generations to come.

Upon her father’s command, the princess took a few steps forward and made a deep and respectful curtsey to the Dawn Knight and his fair queen. The feeling of countless pairs of onlooking eyes, both human and fae, tingled up her back. As approaching footsteps echoed around her, she kept her head lowered, nerves racing through her.

“At ease, child. Come closer.”

She briefly lifted her head, turning it to her father behind her. With a small kind, he urged her forward, silently encouraging her to approach the human king and queen - her future in laws.

She laid her eyes upon the Dawn Knight for the first time, draped in shimmering white with hair blessed by sunlight. He exuded a regal presence similar to her father, but his eyes held a gentle warmth. This was her first encounter with any human and despite conflicting accounts, she sensed the goodness within him. As he took her hand, guiding her toward his queen sitting on her throne, her heart eased. The queen was a beautiful woman, fair haired with a similarly regal but gentle bearing. Around her neck was a striking ring, shaped like a crown with a radiant auroral gem in the center, hanging by a delicate gold chain. And in her arms rested a bundle in white silk – the precious newborn prince.

“Vidaria, such a lovely name,” Queen Leia rose and handed her baby to a waiting nursemaid who placed him back in his cradle. She knelt down next to Vidaria, kissing her cheek with genuine affection. “Lovely, but also strong. Perfectly befitting a future queen.”

Vidaria smiled, of course a kind human king would be wed to a kind human queen who guided her to the cradle where the infant prince lay. Her smile widened, he was asleep, though how anyone, human or fae, could be asleep on such a glorious and auspicious day was beyond her. Though she had to admit he was quite adorable, appearing no different from a baby fae save for his rounded little ears. Already bearing a resemblance to his parents with his tiny patch of golden hair upon his head. And hanging from his neck was a golden crown ring identical to the one worn by his mother and father.

“Hello, little human prince,” she cooed. “I know you’re sleeping, but I’m very happy to meet you.”

With tender caution, Vidaria touched his hand and was surprised when the soft little grip encircled her finger. The prince began to open his eyes and their enchanting hue took Vidaria – the radiant color of the sky at dawn, inherited from his father. He focused his aurora gaze on Vidaria and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been aware of her presence even in his slumber. She moved her finger up and down, giggling at how he continued to hold onto it.

“How wonderful!” said the queen. “He’s already fond of you.”

Vidaria, lost in the moment, hesitated before responding. A warmth stirred within her, mingled with hope for the future. She spoke to her betrothed, her words filled with optimism.

"I hope we will be very happy together, little human prince.” As she said these words, a sweet little smile came to the infant's face, causing hers to widen as she asked, “Oh? Do you think so? Do you think we will be happy together?”

“I’m certain you will, my dear,” Queen Leia gently tapped her shoulder to get her attention, removing the ring pendant from around her neck. “And now, with your father’s blessing, I bestow this gift.”

Gently, she placed the pendant around Vidaria’s neck, explaining that the ring held a special magestone holding the power of three guardian fae sworn to protect the Dawn Knight and his family. And as she would soon join their family, it was only natural that she be bestowed this protection as well.

“For the future queen of Bladevale,” she smiled.

The ring sat perfectly at her heart and when Vidaria once again approached the prince’s cradle, their auroral magestones began to glow. The perfect symbol of the brighter path that lay ahead, not only for Vidaria and the little prince but also for their people. Sadly, little did she know, that reality would diverge from her joyful expectations. But at that moment, all Vidaria felt was the promise held in that cradle. Together, she and the little prince would forge a path toward lasting peace. And with this in mind, she believed their future marriage would be equally loving and joyous.

~~~

Diasomnia Dorm ~ Vidaria’s Room

The princess, now a young woman, stirred awake with great reluctance. Unwilling to return to reality and wishing to remain in her dreams for as long as she could. Even as she accepted the dream as being such, Vidaria’s eyes remained shut. Envisioning that day as if it were only hours ago. The ornate great hall, the kind faces of the Dawn Knight and his queen, and of course, the little human prince on whom so many had placed their hopes for the future. His sweet little face, his striking eyes, her original betrothed.

Reality had indeed diverted from her hopes. Peace did not last and the Draconias had taken back Bladevale. The Dawn Knight and his queen had perished and it was presumed that the little prince had perished as well. And Vidaria’s crown ring, her precious betrothal gift, was lost in the chaos of the Draconia siege upon the Land of Mists. Now she lived as a political prisoner, forced to soon marry the Draconia crown prince to avoid any further bloodshed between the fae nations. Though Vidaria reconciled with her fate a long time ago, when her dreams reminded her so vividly of all she had lost, her heart couldn’t help but ache a little for what could have been in a perfect world.

What kind of man would the little prince have become? No doubt he would be handsome like his father but would he be gentle like his mother? Would he be a warrior or a poet? Would he be scholarly or magically gifted? And would they indeed have grown to love each other and be happy as she had so dearly hoped? So many questions, so many possibilities, none of them she would ever know.

A gentle knock mercifully pulled Vidaria away from her melancholy. “Good morning, Your Highness. Are you awake?”

The sound of Silver’s voice momentarily soothed the bittersweet sensation in her heart. Only his voice could have such an effect on her. Forcing herself to leave the comfort of her bed, Vidaria glanced over at the clock on her nightstand, realizing the limited time she had to prepare for the day. It was just as well. A long day of lessons followed by an afternoon riding in the forest with her clubmates was exactly what she needed to distract her from her darker emotions. And the emerging fancy in her heart that perhaps if the little prince had indeed survived, he would be just like her loyal Diasomnia retainer.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #diasomnia oc #diasomnia #oc: vidaria #twst silver #silver x oc #oc x canon #otp: sildaria #to the shadows she draws near (vidaria overblot au)#things i write

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the-tragic-heroine · 2 years ago

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死鬼祭 | Shiki Matsuri

fandom: tokyo revengers

characters: kurokawa izana, kakucho, haitani ran, haitani rindou, madarame shion

pairings: tenjiku x female reader

cw: blood, violence, minor character death, supernatural elements, she/her pronouns used for reader

—✧ SUMMARY ✧—

The villagers say that you cursed them all. You believe that they were the ones who cursed you. (Or, in which the circumstances of your unfortunate birth woke a forgotten, slumbering god.)

Very vague depictions of the supernatural here, and a few cameos of specific yokai if you can spot them! Title is based off of a song by KODOKULOVE! More characters may be added as the story progresses.

Read on AO3 Read Chapter One

—✧ CHAPTER 弐 TWO ✧—

As years and decades and centuries passed, Izana watched the village lose its faith—and with it, his blessings. If he had been just a few hundred years younger, perhaps Izana could have had the strength to punish them for this crime, but even a god could not fight against the passage of time nor its fickle memories. Thus, he resigned himself to a deep slumber, along with his small following of lesser spirits.

Until the day a woman died in his abode.

When he suddenly awoke to the piercing cries of a newborn baby, he thought it to be a cruel dream, but the renewed strength in the depths of his spirit said otherwise. Together, he and his servants emerged from the darkness that shrouded the shrine, approaching the shuddering and twitching body laying crumpled on the floor.

“Gods, please hear me,” she whispered, voice so soft it was as if each breath expelled yet another part of her departing soul. “Take my life, if only to spare my child.”

Izana allowed himself to appear before her. He crouched down into the inky blackness of blood blooming beneath her body, a hand sweeping sweaty locks from her forehead. Her eyes lit up in one last, brief moment of joyful clarity, a smile spreading across her face.

“Thank you,” she said, and died.

When you too ended up in his arms, he found that you looked just like her.

—✧—

“I must thank you,” Izana murmured from where he sat by your futon. “I watched as you rebuilt my shrine, piece-by-piece, until you also rebuilt my form.”

Though he had healed your physical injuries, the mental scarring had left you confined in bed for some days. You could only nod mutely and stare at your hands, still trembling on your lap.

“I have nothing else,” you admitted. “I think it was just my way of paying respects to the mother that I never knew… and also giving myself a reason to live, in spite of everything.”

“You are strong,” he said. “Because of your strength, we have regained ours.”

“I’m glad,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“You can ask anything of me and I will grant it.” Though his voice was as soft and lilting as the day he saved you, the small smile on Izana’s face was tight-lipped and empty. “Do you perhaps wish revenge on the village who had forsaken you ever since the day of your birth?”

You froze, a myriad of thoughts swirling about in your head. Suddenly, everything hurt all over again. “I…”

Sending your distress, Izana rose to his feet and padded to the door. From over his shoulder, he said, “You do not have to decide immediately. Karma will find its way to those who have wronged you, in one way or another. In the meantime, I will continue my work to restore this place to its former glory.”

He pushed the fusama open and stepped through. “Until then, do as you like, little one.”

The door slid shut, leaving you in silence.

—✧—

Ever since that day, the strange entities that had always danced along your peripherals crawled to the surface of your vision. The spirits were everywhere, you realised, and in all shapes and sizes. Some were like a steadily creeping fog in the woods, others like tiny insects that jumped and played in your garden as you picked vegetables for dinner. None were malevolent, and it soothed your soul ever so slightly to know that though you had always thought yourself alone, it seemed that you never truly were.

“Shall I accompany you to the market?”

Kakucho, Izana’s right-hand man as you came to know him, materialized by your side at the front door where you had been putting on your sandals. It had been about a week since you finally gathered up the courage to set foot back in civilization, although it was also a byproduct of necessity, having run out of a few ingredients at home.

“Can they see you?” you asked, after a brief pause.

“Not if I want them to,” he replied, offering a reassuring smile.

“Okay. Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt, then. Where is Izana?”

“He told me he has some business to take care of. I’m to look after you in his stead today.”

You nodded. Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders, adjusting your grip on your basket. “Alright, let’s go.”

Though you had initially considered telling Kakucho to stay home—you were a big girl who could take care of herself, after all—you couldn’t have been more glad he came along. The moment you emerged from the brush and stepped within the boundaries of the village, you stopped right in your tracks. Though the morning was fairly warm, the sweat beading along your brow quickly ran cold.

“Kakucho,” you breathed out. “What is this?”

Tall and looming dark shapes draped themselves over rooftops, peered out from between houses, and crawled across the ground, trailing after giggling oblivious children. They dripped and oozed like tar as they melted in and out of walls, the sticky black gloop clinging onto any human who walked past. Unlike the spirits back at the shrine whose mere presence brought comfort—none of whom were to be seen nearby, you realised—the shadows haunting the village reeked of something truly evil.

“No one has cleansed this place in a long time,” Kakucho said, striding forward to stand in front of you. An inky blob the size of a dog was wriggling across the dirt in your direction. With one stomp, the thing screeched and dissipated. “This infestation has been growing for hundreds of years, all while Izana and the rest of us slept. If you hadn’t revived the shrine, I don’t think this village would have survived for much longer.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could think to say. Kakucho glanced over at you, expression softening.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be right by your side. None of them will touch you.”

“…Okay,” you said, but before you could even walk a few more steps into the village, a shout turned both of your heads.

“It’s the demon child,” a middle-aged woman screeched, her face white as she pointed one shaky finger at you. “She has risen from the dead!”

All of a sudden, all eyes were on you—including those of all the surrounding malevolent entities. Frozen in both shock and confusion, you barely heard Kakucho curse under his breath.

Huh?

Voices raised into a crescendo from every single direction.

“I thought she was burned!”

“How come she’s alive?”

“It’s an omen! Drive her out!”

“N-No,” you whimpered, eyes wide. “There’s been a mistake, I was never—“

The shadows were creeping closer, the villagers’ shouts growing louder. You didn’t even realize you were backing away until you hit a tree trunk. Amidst the chaos, your eyes zeroed in on the woman from before, pushing her way to the front of the crowd, angry tears streaming down her face.

“Because of you, my son won’t wake up,” she cried, shaking off those who tried to hold her back. “My son just went to visit your godforsaken shrine with his friends—and they all returned injured and near death!”

What?

“I-I,” you stammered. “That can’t be right—“

“How dare you!” she shrieked, her accusations punctuated with sobs. “My boy, my only son… Wicked girl, what did you do to them?”

What did they do?

“I didn’t,” you whispered, head spinning. “They broke in— tried to kill—“

“Enough!” The woman crouched, bending to pick up something off the ground—and when she straightened back up, a rock was clutched in her shaking hand. Everything in your mind stuttered to a halt.

A rock, tossed up and down. A flame, pressed against your eyes.

“Get out,” the woman hissed with so much venom you felt it pierce through your skin. “Get out, and don’t come back!”

The rock sailed through the air in slow motion. The spirits laughed and jeered, rushing forward. A whoosh, the rumbling of robes flying through the air, and then… silence. You dared to crack open your eyes that you hadn’t even realised you shut.

“My apologies.” Kakucho’s quiet, deep voice cut through the air. It was only then you registered the familiar loud trill of cicadas that usually buzzed right outside your window. “I should not have allowed her to go to the village today.”

You blinked a few times. When your vision stabilized, you realised that you were indeed safely inside of your own room at the shrine, laid carefully upon your futon.

“No,” Izana said smoothly, and from the tone of his voice you could tell he was smiling. “It would have happened eventually.” As he spoke, his hand glided over your hair, like one would stroke a pet. In spite of yourself, your shoulders began to relax, your heart rate slowing.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, leaning over your form. “That must have been frightening. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here from now on. If there is anything you need, I will send my men in your stead.”

“Don’t,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Don’t kill them.”

Izana’s smile dropped as a darkness appeared to pass over his purple eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, but by the time you blinked, that placid, gentle smile was back on his face.

“If you insist,” he said. “Kakucho.”

“Yes.”

“Tend to her. I have left Shion and the Haitani brothers to guard the shrine. For now, I have to return to my duties.”

“Yes.”

With that, he was gone.

“Are you alright?” Kakucho asked after a brief pause to watch Izana leave, touching your hand. His calloused fingers carefully unfolded your clenched fists, and it was only then you felt a stinging in your palms, your fingernails wet with blood from how hard they had dug into the flesh.

Instead of answering, you asked your own question. “What did you do?”

“Hm?”

“The kids,” you elaborated, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “What did you do to them?”

Kakucho’s jaw tightened a fraction and the jagged scar slashing over his face seemed to pulse. Still, he continued bandaging both of your palms. “Don’t concern yourself with them. It’s not your problem anymore.”

“It is,” you protested, sitting upright. Tears began to prickle at the corners of your eyes. “Because of me—“

“No.” He cut you off, eyes flashing. “Don’t say that. None of it was because of you.”

“I…”

He stood abruptly. “I’ll be making your dinner until your hands heal. Rest for a bit. I’ll let you know once it’s done.”

—✧—

“He really didn’t tell you, huh?” Madarame Shion cackled, throwing his head back as he laughed. “For the big boss’s right hand man and loyal killing machine, he sure is a fuckin’ softie.”

You flinched, grip tightening on your broom only to be rewarded with a dull, throbbing reminder of what had happened a few days prior. Though the cuts on your hands had mostly healed, the phantom pain lingered.

With all men away from the shrine today, you were left in Shion’s care. Perhaps you would have appreciated it more, had you still lived alone—but having already been spoiled by a diligent, responsible man like Kakucho? You sighed heavily, glaring from the corner of your eyes at where Shion lay sprawled on the floor you had just swept. As if on cue, he let out an exaggerated yawn, one hand sweeping messy blond hair out of his eyes. Above him, shrine lanterns blinked and laughed.

“Shut up,” he snapped at them. They giggled, eyes winking shut and vanishing from sight.

“Be nice,” you chided, nudging at his torso with one foot. “And please get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” he drawled.

“If Izana makes us do more housework cuz of your lazy ass, I’ll kill ya.” A voice drifted indoors and you turned your head just in time to see Haitani Ran’s tall figure ducking inside, his brother Rindou following close behind. The two crossed the engawa in a single long stride, entering the hall and stopping in front of Shion. Ran clicked his tongue and without missing a beat, Rindou delivered a swift kick to Shion’s side.

“Ow!”

“Get up, ya fatass.”

“Who’re ya callin’ fat?!”

“I’m leaving,” you grumbled, turning around.

“No, no, come back,” Shion called, finally scrambling to his feet and stretching obscenely. “I still didn’t get to tell ya about what we did. You wanted to hear, right?”

Ran hummed in interest. “Kakucho didn’t tell her?”

“Of course he didn’t,” Rindou scoffed. “The guy’s weak to girls, whaddya expect.”

Suddenly, you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know anymore.

“Izana told us about what happened at the village,” Ran said, faux sympathy dripping from each word. He sidled up to where you stood, still pathetically gripping your broom. One large hand closed over your own, the other tearing away the broom and tossing it aside with a clatter. “How easily children can lie to adults—and how easily adults can lie to themselves.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you gritted out, but you couldn’t hide the way your voice wobbled. Ran smiled.

“We’ll tell you what happened,” he said like he were doing you a favour, index finger tracing the outline of your jaw. Behind him, Shion and Rindou laughed. “From the very beginning.”

#tokyo revengers #tkrv #tokyo revengers x reader #tenjiku x reader #kurokawa izana x reader #haitani ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #madarame shion x reader #kakucho x reader #My writing

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lemon-butters · 10 months ago

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A/N: What's supposed to be simple 500 short escaped me, all this stemmed from Malcc art. (I have more in the works)

Glynda lies nestled on a plush sofa, the contours of her form relaxed into the soft cushions. Her swollen belly asserts itself, an audacious curve interrupting the line of her body; it rises like a gentle hillock from the valley of her reclining figure. Atop this mound rests a tome, its pages splayed wide open, though the words seem to blur and dance under Glynda's half-focused gaze.

"Settle down, little one," she murmurs with a fond chuckle as if addressing a mischievous student rather than the life stirring within her. The baby responds not in obedience but with a series of gentle flutters against the inner wall of her womb, like the delicate wings of a butterfly trapped in cupped hands.

"Always so active when I try to read," she whispers, her voice tinged with both exasperation and wonder. She imagines she can almost discern patterns in the movement. A secret language of nudges and bumps that only she is privy to decipher.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Glynda's bright green eyes squint as she ponders the sensation, her thin ovular glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. With a sigh, she adjusts them back into place, yet her focus isn't on the lines of text. It's inward, attuned to the tiny dancer.

A powerful kick interrupts her reverie, drawing a gasp from her lips.

"Oh!" The fluttering evolved into more assertive taps now, commanding her full attention. Glynda places her hand gently on the epicenter of the activity,

"Easy now," Glynda murmurs.

Her tranquility fractures when she attempts to rise from the sofa, an action once simple now a feat of sheer willpower. Glynda exhales sharply, bracing herself against the cushions' soft resistance. Her muscles contract, protesting against the shift in gravity as she leans forward, seeking leverage. A pang of discomfort arcs across her lower back, drawing a tight line between her shoulder blades.

With an effort that leaves her breathless, she plants her feet firmly on the floor and pushes upward. The book that had been her companion slides off her belly and thumps onto the cushion beside her, its pages fluttering like captive birds eager for release.

Finally upright, Glynda allows herself a small smile of triumph. Her hand, still resting on her abdomen, feels the echo of the earlier kick.

Glynda's ascent begins each stair, a gentle peak to summit. She places her foot on the first step, weight shifting forward as she pulls herself up with a measured grace that belies the strain it imposes on her body. Her breath is steady, a cadence marking her progress, and her green eyes focus on the landing above.

The nursery door stands ajar, a sliver of light promising a haven. As Glynda nears the top, her gaze lifts to find James, his back to her, standing on a step ladder. Immersed in his task, the careful strokes of the brush against the ceiling painting clouds of a gentle storm grey.

Glynda's breath hitches as she crosses the threshold, her gaze sweeping over the nursery. The room is a midnight canvas, the dark walls serving as the night sky for an array of bright constellations that twinkle with vivid hues of sapphire and emerald. Each star seems to pulse with life, a cosmic dance frozen in time beneath the gentle glow of a crescent moon decal. On the lower half, a lush valley stretches across the walls, painted in verdant greens and earthen tones, a tranquil landscape under the watchful eyes of the heavens.

"James," she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips, caught between admiration and awe.

James perches precariously atop the step ladder, paintbrush in hand, as he etches the final touches on a particularly ornate cloud. The bristles dance delicately across the matte expanse, each stroke adding to the tranquil ambiance of the nursery. He steps back, his eyes scrutinizing the ceiling with an artist's critical gaze, ensuring every detail contributes to the serene tableau he envisions for their child.

"Is it too much?" he mutters.

"James, it's breathtaking," she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips, caught between admiration and awe.

A sharp jolt seizes her attention, a sudden kick from within that draws a low groan from her throat. Glynda's hand flies to her lower abdomen, pressing gently against the fabric of her blouse. The baby asserts its presence with another robust movement, shifting restlessly inside her.

"Let's sit you down," James suggests, guiding her gently toward the rocking chair nestled in the corner of the room. The celestial tapestry they've created surrounds them, stars and comets bearing witness to the quiet strength of their bond.

She breathes out, sinking into the chair with a relieved sigh. "I just need a moment."

"Stubborn, just like their father," Glynda remarks a wry smile, the tension easing from her features. Her humor, a balm to his concern, prompts a chuckle from him.

"Or their mother," he counters playfully, the warmth in his voice wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. The baby chooses that moment to kick again, a firm nudge against James' hand. His eyes widen.

Glynda leans back in the chair, her breath quickening as James' hand settles protectively on her belly. She closes her eyes and tries to focus on the feeling of his touch, the familiar warmth of his skin against hers, but it's difficult with the baby kicking so insistently. The little one seems to know exactly what it's doing; every nudge and wiggle sends a wave of joy through her body. It's like a dance between them—the baby leads, and they follow, their hearts syncing in rhythm. The rocking chair creaks softly under their weight, providing a gentle sway that matches the movements within her womb.

The celestial tapestry hangs above them, its colors shimmering in the soft light from the nearby lamp. A shooting star flashes across the fabric, leaving behind a trail of silver dust before fading away into nothingness.

---

The first light of dawn barely creeps through the curtains when Glynda shifts restlessly, her body heavy and cumbersome. The bed creaks softly as she turns, a deft hand nudging James. He stirs from his slumber with a groggy grunt, his eyes struggling against sleep's sticky tendrils.

"James," she whispers, urgency etched into her voice, a thin thread of panic weaving through it.

He blinks at her, his brain foggy, not yet catching the gravity of the moment. But then he sees it—the dampness spreading across the sheets like a silent alarm—and he's instantly awake. His heart hammers in his chest, a mix of fear and awe seizing him.

"Your water…" James murmurs, the words trailing off, his voice thick with emotion. He sits up, suddenly wide-eyed, every cell in his body on high alert.

"James," Glynda says again, this time a clear command. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, each movement deliberate, fought for against the weight of her belly. Small beads of sweat glisten on her skin, a testament to the effort and the pain that is just beginning to announce itself.

"Okay, okay," James replies, scrambling to his feet. He rushes to her side, his hands hovering over her as if he’s afraid to touch her, afraid to somehow make things worse. His mind races—hospital bag, car keys, call the doctor—but he forces himself to focus on Glynda.

"Are you alright? Can you stand?" His voice is steady now, the military man within finding his footing even amidst the chaos of impending fatherhood.

Glynda nods, grimacing slightly as she places a hand on her swollen stomach, feeling the stirrings of life within battling to greet the world. "I can stand," she asserts, though her voice betrays the rising tide of discomfort.

"Good, good." James is all efficiency now, his training kicking in, guiding him through the protocol of emergencies, even one as personal as this. He tries to steady his breathing, to match the calm he knows Glynda needs from him.

James springs into action, his military training kicking in as he retrieves clean clothes from the dresser. His hands are steady, belying the tempest of emotions inside him. Glynda, with the grace of a dancer even in her ungainly state, attempts to stand. He's at her side in an instant, guiding her gently to her feet.

"Deep breaths, love," he murmurs, slipping a soft maternity dress over her head. The fabric cascades down her body, a gentle wave of comfort. Her hands clutch at his forearms, her grip ironclad.

A contraction grips her then, fierce and unyielding. Glynda folds inward, a sharp inhalation marking the pain that etches across her features. "James…" she gasps out, and he feels the tremor in her voice.

"Right here, Glynda. I've got you." His words are a lifeline as he steadies her, his own heart pounding a relentless rhythm against his ribs. She leans into him, her body racked with the effort of birthing new life.

The world contracts to this single moment.

They reach the hospital, the early morning calm shattered by the urgency of their arrival. James' arm is firm around her waist, her fingers digging into the muscle of his back. Each step is measured, a testament to their shared determination.

"Almost there," he assures her, though it's more for his sake than hers. The pain is a live thing between them, a third presence that demands attention.

"I know," Glynda breathes out through clenched teeth, her nails leaving crescent moons imprinted on his skin. The sensation is grounding, a reminder of the here and now - of the life they're about to welcome.

The hospital room hums with the quietude of exhaustion and elation. Glynda, now a depository of tranquility, cradles the monumental bundle that is their daughter. Her eyes, twin emeralds softened by tears and fatigue, never leave the infant's face — a visage so new yet already etched into her heart.

"James," she whispers, "come meet your girl."

"Hey there, little one…" James begins, his voice a cocktail of awe and fear. He reaches out with his left hand, flesh and blood, trembling as it hovers above the child.

"James?" Glynda prompts, her brow arching in concern.

"Your hand won't hurt her," Glynda assures him, her tone gentle, yet edged with the steel that defines her. "She needs her father."

Taking a deep breath, James extends his flesh hand once more; his movements are deliberate, mindful of the precious cargo he's about to receive. The metal hand remains aloof, tucked against his side, a silent sentinel.

"Okay, okay." James’s internal mantra pulses with each heartbeat. "You can do this."

Glynda lifts the girl, guiding her towards James with practiced ease. Gossamer strands of black hair crown the baby's head, and her tiny nose, unmistakably his, scrunches in slumber. When the weight of his daughter settles into his arms, a rush of warmth floods through him, drowning all fears.

"Hi there, sweetheart," he murmurs, drinking in every detail. His thumb, cautiously, tenderly, strokes her cheek. She stirs, a small sigh escaping her lips, and James feels the seismic shift within him. This fragile being, part him, part Glynda, is theirs. Completely theirs.

"Look at you," James breathes, his throat tight, "you're perfect."

"Hello, my brave little girl," he says, vision blurring as he leans down, pressing a kiss so full of promise to her forehead. "Daddy's here."

#james ironwood #glynda goodwitch #rwby glynda #rwby #ironwitch #oneshot #Pro James ironwood

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james-is-not-here · 15 days ago

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Venting

Imagining random shit to try and fall asleep when it full on hit me that I'm an age regresser...

Like I knew I wanted to be smaller so to speak and I wanted to be like a child but it finally hit me. Not only that, it hit me that I think I'm doing it to cope.

The last few years of my teen hood weren't that great. I lost my Papaw, lost my best friend. Then we were scammed out of a house and had to move in with my grandma and during the time at my grandma's I was experimenting and while doing so I kept secrets. I hid everything from my parents and at the same time someone in my family was going down a dark path, went to a shitty hospital for it which made the dark path even darker and my secrets were apart of that too, I started to feel safer at school rather than my own home.

Then I graduated, my family finally moved out of my grandma's house and slowly but surely the tiny thread I had connected to the family member started to weave itself back together but only now am I realizing that I didn't feel like being "small" until after all this happened.

I use to feel independent and could do things on my own but now? Now I'm scared. I'm scared that my art won't get me to where I want to be, I'm scared that I'll always be by myself and my friends will forget me, I'm now scared to be independent and this all happened after a graduated. I don't have a schedule to follow, I don't have anywhere to go, I don't have a set plan to follow anymore and now all I do is sit around and do random shit on my phone.

For crying out loud, I can't even finish a fucking request or stand alone fics. I start it but then I stop and I feel so shitty for leaving all of you hanging but I also appreciate that no one has hated on me for it, that you're still waiting and I'm sorry that it's taking me so long to get things out.

This started out as me realizing I want to be cared for and held and babied but now I realize just how fucking scared I've become. How Co-Dependent I've become all because I'm not at school anymore like seriously? What happened to the person that willingly auditioned for their first solo in band? What happened to person that helped create a club for their school? What happened to the person that literally offered their skills to a teacher to make posters? What happened to the person that would give more than 100% in school projects that included drawing something?

Why did I step back into my shell? Why did I go back to that shy person in the back of the class that stuttered and tripped over her words when put on the spot? Why did I go back when I was so high up?

My old ELA teacher, god I loved him. Student/Teacher love I mean. He, too, had ADHD and I didn't know that but when he told me I felt so seen. He helped me so much. He helped me understand better and he came up with "The Graph". I'm tearing up just thinking about him cause he was amazing. "The Graph" is what we referred to as my progress. I was to push to keep the graph going up, to not stop and keep it from going down.

Yeah, if I was to see that teacher again he wouldn't be happy that my graph is plummeting. He wouldn't be happy that my graph hasn't peaked in a year, almost two.

I just don't know what I'm doing wrong and I'm fucking scared. I don't know how to get back into the groove I had and I feel so left behind. I know I shouldn't compare myself to others but I feel so behind with all my friends in college or in the military. I know I work differently but I feel like I should be up there with them, I should be doing something beneficial rather than doing nothing. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I'm even starting to doubt my art which I'm also scared of cause I'm so fucking good at what I do.

I just don't know what to do anymore.

#venting

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reidsaurora · 1 year ago

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"Part Thirteen: I Have To" ~ S. Reid

Summary: Spencer shows up at Imogen's door, one thing on his mind: how he has to love her. No matter her response.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Imogen Sterren (bipolar!OC)

Word Count: 2,357

Content Warning: explicit language, small mention of church (is that a warning? idk but) small mentions of Spencer's drug addiction, tiny mention of puke, this whole chapter is mostly Spencer having a panic attack, mentions of bipolar episodes, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: Angst to Fluff, i'd say

Extra Notes: i… i may have almost cried while writing this 😀

Based On the Song: Soon You'll Get Better by Taylor Swift

Originally Written: 02/07/2023 (re-edited 03/05/2023)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

"Soon You'll Get Better" series masterlist can be found here!

"𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭? 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬?" - 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐜𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

It was nearing sunset and Spencer still hadn't found the courage to knock on Imogen's door.

Every time he even thought about stepping onto the yellow-accented front porch, knocking on the robin's egg colored door, coming face to face with brown waves and the shade of green he often found himself missing, he panicked. His hands would quiver, his airway would tighten, and his mind would start to feel so enclosed that he felt like a tiger trapped in a cage at a zoo.

After a while, he started using anything he could as a distraction, taking a particular interest in his surroundings. Sure, it was nice to smell the fresh air after being stuffed in a police precinct for two days, and the sky was a beautiful array of oranges and pinks, but Spencer knew deep down he was just doing what he always did when it came to confrontation: stalling.

It was nearing six o'clock and yet, there he sat—fiddling with the fastenings of his cardigan, taking as deep of breaths as he could manage, and only occasionally looking up to see if somehow Imogen was watching him from the doorway or the window.

At some point, he found his thumb hovering over Penelope's number in his list of emergency contacts. He glanced at the clock in the upper right corner of the screen, realizing that another fifteen minutes had already passed since the last time he checked it.

He let out a deep breath, whispered a quick, "Fuck it," and hit the call button, finding the tiniest bit of solitude in the buzzing sound that rang in his ear.

After three rings, Penelope answered, her voice as gentle as a mother holding her newborn baby. "You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" she asked, a slight tone of disappointment coating her voice.

He shook his head as if she could see him before answering, "I don't know if I can, Penelope. What if I set off another episode? What if seeing me triggers her and I undo all that progress she's made? What if-"

"Oh, boy wonder," she interrupted, her tone staying even but nurturing, "you and all your 'what ifs'."

She wished she could place a comforting hand on his shoulder while simultaneously wishing she could just slap him and say, "Can't you see?"

But Penelope, being ever the peacekeeper, simply said, "I know only a sith deals in absolutes, but who cares what Obi-Wan thinks anyway? Anakin was hotter, both figuratively and literally."

Her rambling elicited a chuckle from Spencer, and the mere sound of it made Penelope smile. She basked in it for a moment, taking in that sweet sound she hadn't heard in at least a week.

After a beat, she spoke up once again. "You shouldn't waste your life away worrying about all the what ifs. There are literally so many other things—more important things—to think about it. Like the fact that you have the ability to give Imogen the best life she could ever ask for. You can be the one to help her any time she has an episode, whether it be a manic high or a depressive down. Spencer Reid, you could be the one who helps her gain custody of August again. You can help her get better."

Spencer let out a deep breath, his fingers flying up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sat there stiffly, knowing she was right, but also believing he didn't have the strength to do it.

Spencer could also be the one to fuck up her life. Spencer could also be the one to cause a manic high or a depressive down. Spencer could also be the one to make her worse off again.

Penelope spoke up again, her voice stern yet sincere when she said, "But you are not going to accomplish a damn thing sitting on that bench and staring at her front door."

Spencer's expression change to one of confusion as he started to ask, "How did you-"

"Turn around."

He turned, and not ten feet away, there she stood—go-bag in hand, wearing an orange dress and sporting off her new red hair color that the sunset behind her only complemented, tears welling in those blue eyes that hid behind cerulean glasses.

"What are you doing here?" he managed to ask, stepping toward her with open arms.

She wrapped her arms around his sweater-vest-covered midsection, basking in his embrace. Neither Spencer nor Penelope would ever admit it to their therapists, but they were becoming quite codependent on each other.

After a moment, she pulled away and placed both her hands on either side of his face. "Spencer, I love you. You are quite possibly my favorite person ever, besides the perfect hunk of chocolate that is named Derek Morgan. So please know that I say this out of love."

He looked down at her, cracking a half-smile and finding peace in the fact that she was there. The one absolute Spencer had in life was there, standing in front of him, and doing the one thing he asked of her: being Penelope.

"Do not be an idiot. I know you think that's something impossible for you to do since you have that two thousand IQ score and all those PhDs, but if you walk away from here without at least telling her you still love her, you will officially win the Guinness World Record for biggest idiot."

He pulled her back in for another hug, leaving a soft peck on her hairline. "Where would I be if I didn't have you to keep me in check?" he chuckled, his chin settling atop her scalp.

"I love you, and this moment has been super sweet and all, but I need you to stop using me as a distraction and go get your girl," she mumbled into the fabric of his sweater.

And so, he gave her one last peck on the head before stepping away, sliding his shaking hands into the pockets of his slacks. But, before he could make it to Imogen's door, he stopped. "Hey, you didn't tell me why you came."

"I needed to be here for you," she answered, as if it were a given, as if it didn't need explaining. "I needed to drive you home and comfort you if it went badly, but I also needed to be here if it went well and we needed to go out for drinks and celebrate. Plus, you know I couldn't possibly pass up on a chance to join in on one of Emily Prentiss's sin-to-win weekends."

He chuckled, a sound Penelope just couldn't get enough of on that breezy October night, and stepped up to the wooden door that blocked him from winning back the love of his life.

He slid his hand out of his pocket before tapping on the door, unsure if he'd even hit the door loud enough for someone to hear him.

But, after about ten seconds, the shuffling of slippers could be heard on the other side of the door, and just the mere sound had Spencer on the verge of passing out.

The door opened agonizingly slow, but what hid behind was well worth the wait.

Light brown hair that used to dangle near her mid-back had been darkened to a chocolate brown and sat just under her chin. Bennington pajamas had been replaced with lounge clothes that Imogen picked out, not anyone else. And tired, misty eyes had been replaced with youthful eyes, accompanied by a sweet yet confident smile.

Imogen eyed Spencer up and down, her grin only growing as she realized he too had had a confidence makeover since their parting. Short hair had been replaced with shoulder-length curls, he'd abandoned his silly, plaid-print ties and replaced it with his new favorite brown sweater vest, and his closed-in shoulders had been replaced with assured, broad shoulders, his posture signaling that he looked much more confident than he felt at that particular moment.

"Hey, you," she sighed. A content sigh. A sigh that signaled she would be content staying just like this for the rest of her life if it meant Spencer was there and real, not a ghost visiting her dreams. "What are you doing here?"

All confidence and assurance left his body when his hands started to shake and his eyes darted down to his worn-out Converse. He racked his brain for a response, as if he didn't know the exact reason why he'd showed up at her house on a not-so-random Friday in October.

He exhaled hard before forcing himself to look back up at her. "Can I come in?" he forced himself to ask.

She gave him a closed-lip smile before moving away from the door. "Of course."

He found himself mesmerized by how she decorated a space that was hers. No one else's, Imogen's. From the pink throw pillows on the couch to the cross-stitched photo of a tulip bouquet hanging on the wall, it was clear that she'd made this place her own in the nearly three years she'd been living here.

Spencer was tempted to see if the gray, cloth couch felt as comfy as it looked, but resisted, forcing himself to speak the words that had been sitting on his mind since he arrived earlier in the day.

"Imogen," he started, his chest suddenly feeling constricted by the button-up sitting beneath his sweater, "there are so many things I need to tell you. I need to tell you how you've only grown more beautiful with each day that has passed. I need to tell you that I am so proud of you for taking the steps to get yourself better. But none of that matters until I say this."

He swallowed back every tear that had been threatening to fall that day before continuing, "I know you said that we needed to be away from each other. But I can't anymore. OK, you may have had to go away, but there is something I have to do too—love you. Wholeheartedly. I need you to know that not once in the entire 1,384 days that we've been apart have I ceased to love you. Hell, I even started going to church for you at one point. I mean, I guess that was essentially canceled out when I started taking drugs to distract myself from you-"

He stopped himself, shaking his head. "None of that's relevant. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is this: I have to love you. I just have to. And I don't care if you throw me out of here and you never wanna see me again, I will continue to love you, even if that happens."

"Spencer-"

"I don't care if you tell me you hate my guts. Truth be told, I probably deserve it after not manning up and admitting to myself that I needed to help you."

"Spence-"

"None of that matters now. All I know is that I love you. And I love every single thing about you. Every quirk, every trait. I love how you organize the condiments in the fridge by color when I can't even remember to check the expiration dates. I love that you dot your i's with open circles. I love that you somehow always smell like fresh linen, even though I'm fairly positive that's not a scent in the wide variety of women's perfumes that this world has to offer. I even love that you dog-ear your pages, even though it drives me bat shit crazy when my coworkers do it on the plane. I love you. That's all I know. That's all I've known since that night you coached me through that bad panic attack when I was literally seconds away from sobbing on the bathroom floor. And you know how much I hate touching places where people have stepped."

Imogen giggled, a real genuine giggle that Spencer hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime. A giggle that sounded like honeysuckle, and happiness, and home.

She forced back tears that welled in those perfectly teal eyes Spencer couldn't get enough of. "Can you give me just a few minutes? You can sit there on the couch. There's just… I need to give you something."

He nodded, his heart heavy with anxiety as she walked toward what was presumably her bedroom. He was tempted to shed himself of the constricting fabrics that clung to his chest and arms, but thought better of it, all things considered.

His anxiety only grew worse as he considered his tangent, thought after thought racing through his brain. What if I said too much? What if she hates me? What will she think about drug addiction? What if she comes back and shoves me right back out the front door?

But, much like a guardian angel, that beautiful, melodious voice that belonged to one Penelope Garcia rang through his ears. And suddenly, he was OK. It didn't matter if Imogen accepted him. He was there, he'd made peace, and he was purely, absolutely, wholly himself. And that was OK.

Three minutes that felt more like ten hours had passed before she came back, and with every breath Spencer took within those minutes, he felt as though he'd vomit all over her shaggy brown rug, despite the comfort in the voice that sounded through his ears.

When Imogen walked back into the room, she didn't say anything. Instead, she just placed a chestnut-colored envelope in his hand, her t's still crossed with the same curl she always used.

He didn't have to open the letter, he already knew by the smile on her face what her response would be.

Still, in the most comfortable silence he'd felt in three years, he opened the envelope, pulling out pink, floral stationery that felt just so inherently Imogen.

"Dear Spencer,

You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.

Ever again.

I mean it. - Imogen 𖤐"

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞." - 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧

Welcome one and all to what was originally the end of SYGB 🥲

The last two parts were technically the epilogue but because I just couldn't get enough of Spencogen (as i'm choosing their ship name to be), I wrote a bonus chapter which is now the finale.

But could you imagine if it ended here? Open ending, not really any closure? It's kind of sad to think about.

All that aside, I hope you guys enjoyed the second of the final three SYGB chapters. I know I had a lot of fun and a lot of emotions writing this one 💖

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @wwwonzeee @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @rexorangecouny

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ��𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

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unsanctioned-if · 1 year ago

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Snippet

Though I haven't finished the intro post yet and the demo is still very much a wip, it's been a long time since I made the intro post in the first place. Since I'd like a tiny bit more content featured on here (taking baby steps with that), I thought I'd post a small snippet of the very first scene, for now. Please keep in mind that it's not 100% edited and that I might polish it a bit more going forward.

Update-wise, I'm currently working on the character descriptions to add to the intro post and making slow but steady progress for chapter 1.

Enjoy!

"Time seemed to slow down in the silence that settled over the two lone figures facing each other in the middle of a glacial valley.

Coldness stung your palms as they dug into the white blanket beneath you, leaving a pair of messy, deep prints. Although it was your first time experiencing the rawness of winter, the sights and sensations all but escaped your notice as your focus was helplessly drawn to the man standing in front of you before all else.

Even craning your neck, you had difficulty distinguishing his features. They remained obscured by the darkness that had fallen over your surroundings.

What you could make out was the gold and red-streaked hair that fluttered in the biting gusts of wind passing by, along with the slight twitch of his mouth that bordered on a sneer and the pointed corners of his ears. A flickering wisp hovered in the air next to him, humming faintly and soothingly, though you barely paid it any mind.

Your attention settled on the ring adorning his leftmost finger. It gleamed and glistened in the darkness, the green and gold patterns a stark contrast to the bleak environment you found yourself in.

Even a child of nine summers such as yourself had recognized the sigil inscribed on that ring. A gold and emerald pentagon with small, red gems embedded in each corner. The shape’s middle was empty, a hollow depth where one might otherwise have expected to find a jewel.

The Ring of the Unsanctioned."

#interactive fiction #if #interactive novel #unsanctionedif #unsanctioned #snippet #sneak peek #wip #writing

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voraciousvore · 1 year ago

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The Half-Blood Giant (5/51)

***Contains mentions of vore***

Chapter 5: The Early Years

Chester was disappointed to find that the appetite suppressant gummies did not taste nearly as good as Jackie, nor were they effective at reducing his hunger. Sometimes he could suck on them or chew on them, much like a smoker trying to quit might chew gum as a distraction, but they did not satisfy in the same way.

Even so, Chester got a better handle over his cravings and didn’t lose control again. Jackie was more attentive to his needs, and Chester improved his communication with her so he didn’t reach the point where he couldn’t control himself. Therapy helped as well, since he learned better coping skills to deal with his issues. Occasionally, he even went to “Maneaters Anonymous” meetings in the alternate giant world to gain a wider network of support, where he could connect and commiserate with other giants who shared the same problem. Such meetings did not exist in the Land of Giants. With the increased support, the couple made progress and fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Their son grew quickly. After a while he was weaned off breastmilk and could eat baby food. Jackie found her energy returning as her blood magic was no longer sapped away with every feeding. She was still very busy with raising the child, but the situation with Chester’s voracious nature wasn’t quite so dire. She made time for her hungry husband, as best she could. She felt closer than ever to him, despite the difficulties, since they faced their challenges together.

Chester tried his best to keep his giant relatives away for as long as possible, but of course he couldn’t hold them off forever. Jasper, his brother, was the first to visit. He stopped by when Hunter was still a tiny baby. Jasper was charmed by how remarkably miniscule the little bean of a being was. He congratulated the new parents and teased his more serious brother about the size of his son. Jackie was relieved that he didn’t try to touch his new nephew and had no impulses to eat him. As much as she liked Jasper for his easygoing, boisterous personality, she still felt a bit uneasy around him. While it had been an accident, Jasper drank up Jackie in a beer when she first met him. He always joked to her about how good she tasted and how much he wanted to eat her again. He was a good-natured guy, but he was still a giant, and Jackie suspected the jokes weren’t entirely unfounded, judging by the hungry glint in his eye. She laughed them off, but she stayed close to Chester whenever his brother was around.

Soon after Jasper’s visit, Chester’s parents came to the house. His father made no effort to hide his disappointment when he beheld for the first time his infinitesimal grandson. The gargantuan man looked down his nose at the insignificant creature in the crib and dripped with condescension when he glanced down at Jackie. She met his glare with defiance, refusing to avert her own gaze. Chester rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not sure what to say.

While Chester’s mother harbored a similar attitude, she was more amenable. Despite her negative first impression, she had to admit the baby, so ridiculously tiny, was cute. She just didn’t want her grandson to be that small, that irrelevant. Nevertheless, her heart swayed in his favor when he clutched her fingertip with his tiny hands and giggled. She left with a warm glow, in contrast to her sullen husband.

Their son said his first words and took his first steps. Jackie tried to teach him to say his name: Hunter. She’d agreed to name their son what Chester desired. She hoped that the name would suit him, and he wouldn’t become the hunted instead. For the time being, he was safe in Chester’s giant house. He hadn’t encountered any giant strangers, and Jackie wanted to keep it that way.

Hunter continued to grow. As a toddler, he was rambunctious and fearless, full of hyperactive energy. Chester was delighted that his son, while still very small, was no longer quite so fragile. The giant father could hold the child and let him climb up his fingers and play, using the hills and valleys of his massive hands as a playground. He had to be cautious while walking around his home, lest he accidentally step on the little toddler that lacked the common sense to get out of his way. His son liked to cling to his shoelaces or climb on his boots and go for a ride as he walked. He rose to the challenge of scaling his giant dad all the way to the top (he didn’t get very far, and Chester usually had to rescue him from his pant leg).

Chester was pleased to finally play a larger role as a father. He could give Jackie more time to rest. By default, he fell into the role of the disciplinarian, whereas Jackie was more of a caregiver. He could shut down a temper tantrum in seconds by pinching Hunter between his fingers and raising him up the impossible height to his eye level. A stern stare over a terrifying drop hushed the child immediately.

Even so, Hunter was an unruly child. He had a whole giant house to run around in, so his parents didn’t see a need to rein in his wild energy or discipline him. This style of parenting backfired tremendously when Jackie decided to take him to the human world to socialize him. He was bouncing off the walls and breaking things in her parents’ comparatively cramped human-scale farmhouse. They had to throw him outside so he could explore the surrounding farmland and acquaint himself with the chickens, cows, and horses instead.

When Jackie arranged playdates for him with other human children, Hunter did not play nice. With the giant blood flowing in him, his body was hardier and more durable than a normal human’s. He was rough and aggressive and liked to wrestle and test his physical capabilities. Additionally, he was unusually large for a human child his age. It wasn’t his intent to harm anyone, but he simply didn’t know his own strength. He was used to living in a giant house with a giant father who wouldn’t even bat an eye if he punched or kicked his finger. Other children didn’t like him very much and shunned him. Hunter didn’t understand why. It made him angry sometimes, yet he learned not to care when he couldn’t make friends.

Jackie was concerned when she saw Hunter bruising and even biting other children. She scolded him but he didn’t listen to her; he was more inclined to obey his gigantic father than his puny mother. She wanted to enroll him in preschool when he reached the proper age, but she couldn’t see it happening when he couldn’t play well with others.

Unfortunately, Jackie’s parenting woes were just beginning. As Hunter aged, he began to grow in size at an exponential rate. Soon enough, he was far too big to pass for a normal human, and Jackie could no longer take him to the human world outside the privacy of her parents’ property. Enrolling him in a human school was permanently out of the question, but he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in the Land of Giants either. He smelled like a human and would be an ideal meal for a much larger, hungry giant. Homeschooling would be the only option.

Hunter swiftly exceeded Jackie’s height and continued to sprout like a beanstalk. In an unexpected twist, Chester found that he was the one who had to care for the kid, since Jackie was too small to do much. He didn’t mind, but he understood better now why Jackie was so tired all the time. Since Hunter had grown up small, he wasn’t fully aware of how his size change altered how he should interact in his environment. He was still tiny compared to Chester, but wild and rowdy enough to give him trouble. Chester had to constantly remind his son to be careful and scold him, especially around his mother. Hunter had a habit of grabbing Jackie like a toy, sometimes squeezing her too tightly. He didn’t show her the proper deference and respect, especially as he continued to expand in scale and she appeared smaller and less significant from his perspective.

When he was younger, Hunter’s whole world was Chester’s house, supplemented by his short-lived adventures in the human realm. As a miniscule human, the colossal house provided plenty of space for him to explore and run around, but this situation couldn’t last forever. He became harder and harder to contain as he grew larger and older. He was curious about the world outside, and his parents weren’t sure how to handle this new development. He was the topic of many late-night conversations between Chester and Jackie, once they put him to bed. Jackie didn’t want him to live his life in fear, but Chester believed he needed to be aware of the dangers the world presented to him. Jackie’s opinions won out, at least while their son was still young and small enough to contain in the house or yard, so they kept him sheltered in ignorance of the bleak truth.

The added stress increased Chester’s appetite and need for comfort. Now that Jackie was the one who couldn’t do much, and her magic recovered faster, she was willing to indulge his whims and allowed him to consume her on a more frequent basis. They hid this arrangement from their son. Chester lied to Hunter that his mom was “taking a nap” or “had a headache” and was resting in the bedroom, while in reality he had Jackie inside his belly. His son, with the innocent mind of a child, was none the wiser. He only noticed during those times that his dad was happier and rubbed his belly a lot. Chester could still walk around and do normal activities when he ate Jackie, so the intimate time wasn’t intrusive on their routine.

Chester couldn’t eat Jackie with meals like he used to in front of his son. Hunter’s crazy growth spurts left him with a constant hunger, so Chester was cooking all the time. Chester, being himself a glutton, was a skilled cook and didn’t mind. He was relieved to find that his son didn’t exhibit any desire to eat his mother, but he wasn’t sure if his son lacked human cravings or if he didn’t want to eat her because she was related by blood, just as Chester had no urge to eat his half-giant son. Excluding his smaller size, Hunter physically appeared to take after his father more than his mother. He inherited similar facial features to his father, including the same stunning green eyes and his sensitive nose, both in shape and function. His hair was a light brown tinted with red accents. His body had the strong durability of a giant, more resistant to fatigue and injury than a more fragile human. And that body of his continued to enlarge at a shocking pace.

Initially, Jackie had been looking forward to teaching her son magic, but as he grew bigger and harder to control, she was more averse to the idea. Having an oversized, unmanageable child that could also use magic sounded like a nightmare to her. Instead, she sought to teach him more traditional school subjects when he was old enough. He had an inquisitive mind and was a good student to her lessons, despite his uncontrollable nature. He liked to read and learn, particularly since he was confined to the house.

His intellectual curiosity led him to ask a lot of questions. Jackie often gave him a simplistic or sugarcoated answer, to prevent him from learning about the harsh reality of his existence. The truth became more difficult to obscure, though. Whenever his father went out to get groceries or run an errand, Hunter wanted to join him, but of course it wasn’t safe for him to go. Chester hurt inside when he had to reject his son’s pleas and shut the door in his face. Additionally, Jackie struggled to keep the disobedient child under control while her giant husband was away. She was sorely tempted to use her magic to administer a shock when he was being especially disruptive, but she refrained. She didn’t want him to know about magic, and she didn’t feel right punishing him in such a manner.

One day, when Hunter was begging to go places and be let out, Chester and Jackie agreed to take him to the lavish estate of his grandparents to visit. As long as they kept him in the car for the whole drive over, and he stayed on the gated property, they reasoned no harm would befall him. They couldn’t keep him cooped up in the house forever, after all. Chester buckled up his son in the backseat and drove to the estate, with Jackie riding on his shoulder. Their son was ecstatic, glued to the car window as he watched the world pass. He saw things he had only read about in books.

Chester pulled up to the massive mansion of stone and let Hunter out of the car. The child, at six years of age, had grown enough that his head reached Chester’s knee: large for a human, but undersized for a giant. He stared up in awe at the great castle and surveyed his new environment with exhilaration before squealing and running off to explore.

“Don’t go beyond the fence!” Chester yelled after him as he approached the big wooden door and knocked. Jackie huddled up next to Chester’s neck, feeling the thick cords of muscle through the skin and his steady pulse. She never knew what to expect from Chester’s parents, mostly his father, Ajax. She did her best to show no fear when in his presence, but she’d be lying if she claimed she wasn’t scared of the volatile giant. He had a hot temper and a short fuse.

Chester’s mother answered the door with a genial smile. “Chester. Jackie. Lovely to see you two.” She was soft-spoken, her voice matching her natural delicate grace. She searched Chester up and down, as well as the floor, with her pale green eyes. “And where’s my grandson?”

“He’s out playing in the garden,” Chester replied. From inside the foyer, Chester’s father came up behind her and planted his massive hand on the door, opening it wider. He looked fearsome, with his eyepatch, his scar running down his face, his burly physique, his thick hairy beard, and his intimidating height. His wife barely reached the height of his sternum.

“Let me see him,” Ajax said in a deep voice that rumbled like thunder. He stepped out, not deigning to even glance at Jackie. He pushed past Chester and lumbered over to the garden, sweeping the ground with his single good eye as he searched for his grandson. Jackie gritted her teeth as she watched him. He was so careless with his big feet as he stomped around. If Hunter had stayed at a normal human size, his grandfather could have easily crushed him under his gargantuan boots without even spotting him.

“Hunter,” he boomed when he spied his grandson running around. Hunter froze and gaped up at his grandpa. The giant man crouched down, looming over the tiny child, and picked him up in his hand. Hunter was still small enough to sit in his palm, with his legs hanging over the side of his hand. Hunter held still with the same facial expression as his grandfather examined him closely. His dark eye narrowed and his fingers wrapped tighter around the small boy.

“Hmph,” he grunted, setting Hunter back down in the grass. He stood back up and plodded back into the big stone mansion, slamming the wooden door behind him. Hunter watched him leave, but soon went back to playing. He seemed to forget the uncomfortable interaction as he frolicked and his grandma fawned over him.

They stayed for the rest of the day, leaving after sunset. Hunter had a great time and enjoyed his adventure outside the house. He was tired by the time his parents packed him back up in the car and drove away. Jackie rested in Chester’s lap this time, rolled up in his shirt against his belly. He caressed her with his free hand while he drove. It was peacefully quiet inside the car, so Chester assumed his son in the backseat had nodded off.

“Hey, Dad?” Hunter piped up.

“Hm?” Chester replied, surprised to hear his son’s voice.

“Why doesn’t Grandpa like me?”

Chester and Jackie stiffened. For a moment, Chester wasn’t sure what to say. Hunter was ignorant of the history of the Land of Giants, the divide between giants and humans, and the details of his own lineage. His parents hadn’t fully explained to him the predatory relationship between giants and humans, his place in the world, and the differences between the species beyond “Daddy is big and Mommy is small.” The answer would elicit more uncomfortable questions.

“Don’t worry about what Grandpa Ajax thinks,” he finally responded. “It’s not important.”

Chapter 6

Chapter 1

#g/t writing #g/t #giant #giant/tiny #tiny #giant tiny #size difference #g/t fluff #g/t vore #vore story #vore writing #the half-blood giant

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