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jubshead · 14 days ago

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𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

Paring: Lydia Lebasi x Reader

Summary: An unexpected visit turns your day south; Lydia is there to comfort you.

A/N: This is a request from the wonderful and talented @madamspellmans-met-tet, I’m sorry it took me more than a month to finish this, I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Implied past child abuse/neglect, Mentioned drug addiction, Mommy issues, Comfort sex, Fingering, Praise kink

Word count: 5.2k

Date: April 30, 2025

Lydia Lebasi is from SVU episode 11, season 16

Masterlist | Taglist | Read on ao3

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

The streets of New York buzz with life. The sun shines its lazy light over honking cars and warmly dressed pedestrians, unhelpful with the autumn chill. Tall buildings throw cold shades on the sidewalk and you watch smoke leave your cracked lips, tightening the scarf around yourself.

The walk from your college to the shooting address is filled with a freezing breeze and people in a hurry, the high class part of the town never taking a break. Your hard icy fingers squeeze the phone on your hand and you curse your brother for not meeting you in your usual lunch spot, just because he was part of a movie now it didn’t give him the right to make you walk twelve blocks in this weather.

The end of the semester brought with itself the usual seasonal exams and an exhaustion that weighed you down. The sleepless nights walked hand in hand with the multiple cups of coffee and the seemingly perpetual study sessions. You could be nothing but grateful that the tests had ended today, even with your moufled mind and the need to tumble over your bed and sleep for a week.

As you walk, your reflection on the buildings' glass follows you, the approaching blue dot on your screen indicating the proximity to your destination. Taking your eyes off the street for even a second seems to be the wrong choice when you bump into someone.

“Oh, I’m so-” The apology is left hanging, blood completely draining from your face when you look up.

“Hi, darling.”

The pet name is spoken anxiously, a sweet faux thing that makes you swallow the bile rising in your throat. Your mother stands in front of you, blonde burned hair tied back into a thin ponytail and yellow teeth gracing you with a rotten smile.

“What are you- How did you-” Words escape you when you come face to face with the woman who raised you.

“Oh, you know.” She laughs, trying to decrease the tension. “I saw your brother’s face on this big outdoor street and thought I should pay him a visit. I miss my munchkins.”

Her cold hand reaches and squeezes your warm cheek. The childhood nickname makes you soften and, just like always, you’re pliant in her hand when she gives you any sort of affection.

“Mom, shouldn’t you be in rehab right now?” You ask cautiously, aware of the sensitive topic.

Her palm flies away from your face and she eyes you as if betrayed.

“That horrible place? I left months ago.” She gesticulates widely. “They treated me like shit, humiliated me in front of everybody and used torture methods for abstinence. I don’t know which one of you chose that clinic, but I’m not going back there. I’m sure you understand, don’t you, darling? You wouldn’t want your mother to be hurt.”

The institution you helped your brother pick was one of utmost respect, held in a high regard of humanistic treatment and positive results. Neither one of you was saving expenses when it came to your mother’s wellbeing.

You can only hum at her statement, used to her lying.

For the first time since bumping into her, you actually take in her appearance. Her fingers tremble as she screeches her wrist, ripping the skin under her nails. Paranoia seems to grip her shoulders and bend her down, eyes shadowed by dark circles darting from left to right. She’s wearing rags, unmatching clothes that barely shield her from the weather, her large thin coach swallowing her frail figure.

The blown wide pupils can’t seem to focus when she looks back at you.

“Well, this is not what I came here to talk about.” She does a dismissive motion. “I’d like to see your brother.”

She turns in the direction of the building and you are quick to grab her arm, preventing her from walking.

Your brother’s mention is enough to make you snap out of whatever trance your mother always seems to put you in. Just imagining her appearing in his work place, embarrassing him in front of everybody, builds the resolve that you will, for once, deal with this on your own.

“What are you doing? Let me go.” Her face morphs, turns into the ugly one it did when you used to flush her drugs down the toilet, long before you learned it was of no use.

She would just buy more.

“Mom, I don’t-”

“I told you to let me go, you petulant child! Who do you think you are?” Her voice raises, hardens.

You feel the stares turning in your direction, people stopping to watch the scene unfolding as your cheeks grow warm and the bile rises in your throat once more.

“You think you can prevent me-”

“What is going on here?” Someone interrupts her, imposing timber ringing over your mother’s tantrum.

Lydia’s appearance makes you take in a breath you didn’t know you were holding, a flow of relief washes over you and you let go of the blonde, taking a step closer to the short manager, seeking her securiness.

“Who are you?” Your mother’s rage changes targets.

The brunette barely gives her the time of the day, turning to you with a questioning gaze.

“I’m alright.” You mumble, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear out of embarrassment. “Mom, look, you can’t see Josh right now, he’s working. Why don’t you and I go out to lunch?”

“You think I’m going to waste my time with you!?” She screams, her sweet facade sipling further as she steps closer. “This is an important matter, a conversation between adults. I’ve always known you were not a bright child, you never know when to mind your own business.”

Her saliva lands on your face, the instability caused by her addiction showing its ugly head. You grip Lydia’s arm, speechless as your fist closes on the black sleeves of her overcoat, shrinking into yourself and looking down, trembling chin meeting chest.

“It’s time for you to go.” Your brother’s manager says, a hard seriousness gracing her features in light of the situation.

“Ow, got yourself a little dyke dog?” Your mother taunts, completely over the line.

Her sense of superiority doesn’t last long, however, her expression turns panicked when Lydia raises her finger, calling the building’s security. From afar you can see two bulky men eye each other before following the manager’s request and moving to approach.

Your mother runs, she does like she’s been doing her whole life, like it’s her specialty. Never looking back to glance at you as she disappears between the crowd walking down the street.

Her escape doesn’t bring the consolation it should, you know it’s not over. If she had shown up in the first place it could mean only one thing; she needed money. And knowing her well, she wasn’t going to stop persuading you or your brother until she got it.

From your side vision, you can see as Lydia signals the guards again, letting them know they are no longer needed. Everything around you seems muffled, the cars sound fair away and your vision is blurred, it had escaped your notice before, but now you feel the brunette’s strong hands gripping your waist, grounding you to the present.

“Honey.” She softly calls you, her entire demeanour changing now that your mother is gone.

Breathing feels challenging and you close your eyes to focus on it, using the technique you’ve learned helps with your panic attacks. Your nails sink into the skin of your free palm and Lydia’s covered arms, and she stays there, holding, waiting for you to recover on your own time.

“Can you take me home?” You croak out.

“Of course, baby.”

The nickname makes your knees weak, you hold in a sob.

She takes you inside, barking orders left and right for people to move out of the way, ignoring whoever tries to stop her for whatever matter you couldn’t make yourself hear. Her hand rests comforting in the small of your back and you let her guide you, leading you up floors and into the garage, taking control of the situation since you were clearly in no state to do so.

“Put on your seatbelt.” She tells you and you follow her command like a devoted follower, clinging to anything she says in hope of staying under her light.

The ride is mostly silent, your head rests against the window and you watch the busy traffic of New York, noticing from time to time how the brunette throws furtive glances in your direction. The knot on your throat grows heavier as each car drives by and you swallow around it non-stop, ignoring the pricking of tears in your eyes as you do not wish to make a fool of yourself in front of the older woman.

She knows the way to your apartment by heart now, always visiting to run things over with Joshua or keep you company when you’re feeling down. Your brother likes to joke that, much like a puppy who chooses its owner, the manager he has hired for himself actually adopted you as her little project and, even though you scoff at it everytime, he can’t help but be right.

Lydia always makes time for you, you’ve lost count of the many ways she has helped you with college bureaucracy or dropped what she was doing to run an errand with you. Even though she has few clients, her plate is always full, knowing you’re at the front of her mind even with her busy schedule makes your heart warm.

Being someone’s priority is not something you’re used to.

Her hand touches your thigh, taking you out of your trance and making you realize that you’ve arrived at the garage of your building. She encouragingly squeezes the flesh under her palm.

“Thank you for bringing me home.” You force your voice out, whispering inside the car.

She gives you a tight smile, turning to open the car door before being stopped when you grab her gloved hand.

“Lydia, you don’t have to stay.” A furrow grows in her brows and you’re quick to clarify. “I know you must have a lot to do on set, it’s still the middle of the day.”

“Whatever it is that they need, they can reach me through my phone.” She responds decisively, fingers traveling up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll be staying with you. Come on.”

Her lack of doubt makes your stomach flourish, redness growing on your cheeks.

It’s good to know she’ll be there with you, at least until your brother arrives. When alone your thoughts could go into dark places and, with the events of this morning, it is inevitable that they would. Lydia’s presence would make them vanish as if they never existed in the first place.

“I texted your brother, told him I was bringing you home because you weren’t feeling too well.” She says as the elevator door closes.

No answer comes out of you, but your head moves to rest on her shoulder. You couldn’t tell the exact moment she had done that, but the feeling of being taken care of feels unusual and pleasant, alarm bells going off on your head as your body relaxes into her warmness, relieved that she had thought of explaining your disappearance to the one person you cared about, without telling him the reason behind it.

You’d like to tell him the situation yourself and she knew that.

There are no impediments in the hallway and you find your keys easily enough in the mess that is your bag, opening the door and breathing in the safe haven that is your apartment. Your gaze automatically strays to the stairs and you eye them longly, craving nothing more than a hot shower to take away all of your problems.

“Go on.” Lydia’s voice sounds from behind you. “I’ll be here when you get down.”

Unspeakingly, you softly place a kiss on her cheek, thankful for her understanding, before hurriedly making your way upstairs, not wishing to leave her alone for too long.

The relief brought by the end of the semester didn’t have a lingering presence, the encounter with your mother had, however, increased the exhaustion siping into your bones. A headache starts forming behind your eyes as you make fast work of discarding your clothes and heading straight into the bathroom box, averting the mirror at all costs.

Turning the tap, you wait, sensing the temperature of the water as it becomes steaming, hot, burning. A groan escapes on your lips when you get under it, the scalding stream meeting your shoulders as you take in a deep breath, feeling the drops running down your back and hitting the white tiles.

You tense for a second when a sob echoes, leaving you without permission and lonely enough that it could have been mistaken for something else. It is a defence mechanism that takes over you after that. Bottling up the tears and humming a random tune comes natural to you and you wash your hair as if nothing is amiss, avoiding the dark childhood memories that invade your mind.

The prevented panic attack from earlier had been a victory you intended to uphold.

If you’d normally take forever to finish your shower, this one is over in the blink of an eye. You do everything twice as fast, knowing that the comfortability of the hot stream could make you melt down in a few minutes and wishing for nothing more than to go back to the light that is Lydia’s presence.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you pass the sink, grabbing your green hairbrush from the bench and making your way into your wardrobe. Opening the drawers, you stare down. Your drenched hair drips over the clothes and your mind wanders, going everywhere and nowhere at once. You grab your comfortable pajamas; satin shorts and a matching loose tank top.

You wouldn't leave the house today.

As you make your way down the stairs, you hear Lydia moving around the kitchen. The midday sun shines through the big glass windows into the white tiles of the living room. Your brother’s career was doing well, enough for you to afford a big apartment with separate bedrooms and house supplies that your childhood had lacked, a lot more than you could have dreamed of.

Your bare feet silently carry you to the dinner table and you sit on its surface, a small habit you’ve had your entire life of placing yourself on top of desks and counters. Lacking the strength to do anything else, you observe the other woman as she opens cabinets, unaware of your appearance. Your dripping strands wet the blue material of your pajama and the brush lays discarded on your side, apathy clings to you like a leech, sucking your vitality.

Lydia turns and spots you, if she’s surprised by your presence she doesn’t let it show, her eyes barely sweep your figure before she goes back to the task at hand.

“I’ve ordered lunch.” She says, throwing you a reassuring smile. “It shouldn't take long to arrive now.”

Surprisingly, your stomach makes itself known at the idea, even though your appetite hasn’t graced you, the biological clock on your body screams for food. You hum absentmindedly, observing as the manager places herbs into a pot and boils water for tea, using the leaves you stock away in case of headaches or restless nights.

The simple things Lydia does are enough to warm your heart and make your insides flutter, a blush rises in your cheeks. Her caring attitude brings you complicated feelings and the need to be desired and nurtured. You stay seated, barely acknowledging the bubbling emotions.

She closes the kettle lid, turning her undivided attention to you as the tea rests. When she rounds the kitchen counter, you notice her hands. They are bare, her gloves discarded somewhere in the apartment, the veins are prominent and the skin is thin, covered in wrinkles. When she comes to stand before you, her palm lays on your cheek, thumb caressing your face.

Her eyes are big, brown and comforting, you feel fragile in her presence. The feeling you imagine is that of a devoted peasant who believes their God will take every problem away from them. She stares at you, taking in your features for what you imagine is a search for any type of distress. She would find none. You couldn’t feel anything besides weightless in her presence.

Her gaze strays to the damp towel by your side before sweeping the dripping locks on your forehead. There’s no hesitation in her movements as she grabs the white cloth and uses it to squeeze the excess water out of your hair, presenting a softness she seemed to reserve only for you. Her actions are slow, as if savoring your presence and your allowance for her care; she does it as if helping you brings her joy.

You can’t help the lump that rises in your throat.

Buching your hair up, she carefully places the towel over your shoulders, running its fluffy material over the wet trails in your collarbones. You feel the redness growing in your face, the prickling in the tip of your nose and the stinging in your eyes as she attentively divides your strands and grabs the hairbrush to untangle them.

The strokes make you melt, if you were worried about the hot stream of the shower lowering your emotional barriers, it doesn’t even come close to Lydia’s ministrations. You stare at her, catching every wrinkle and details on her face, the close proximity making your breath hitch. She doesn’t seem to mind your observing gaze, runs the hair brush over your scalp and makes you shiver, focused on her task.

The tears are no surprise, they streak down your cheeks silently.

The tea boils on the stove, the air around you filling with the smell of lemon grass and ginger. The midday sun comes through the window, washing over the older woman and making her shine, brunette locks glowing like a halo.

Her eyes snap back to yours when a sob escapes you, worry clouding her brown orbs when she sees you crying.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She whispers, settling the green object down and circling your head with her palm, pressing you against her chest.

The hiccups come out freely now, shaking your body as you clutch her black blouse. Her nails run down your scalp as she lets out light shushes.

“You’re safe now, baby.” She reassures, resting her chin over your wet hair. “It’s alright, I won’t let her anywhere near you.”

Her presence surrounds you like a blanket, her warmth disarming your defences as your walls crumble, the rich smell of her perfume making you soft on her embrace. The older woman envelops all your senses until you can’t think or feel anything else besides her.

Her breasts are a cushion, your cheek pressed against them as your arms circle her middle, holding onto her like your life depends on it. Your breath is uneven, the sobs die down but the tears are persistent as you sniffle to contain them. She doesn’t let go of you as you calm yourself down.

The hug stretches on, the manager’s comforting words filling the room as you pull yourself together. It isn’t until you dislodge yourself from her that she moves.

“My beautiful girl.” Her sigh ghosts your face, her thumbs wiping the wet paths on your cheek.

You stare at her in what you imagine is a pitiful position, she’s centimeters away from you, her expression showing nothing but understandment and tenderness. The way your eyes stray to her mouth is automatic, the support she’s showing you bubbling the feelings you’ve been trying to suppress for months now, afraid of a rejection.

There’s no doubt you’re the first to make the move, but it is oh so carefully done, hitching closer and closer as you analyze her features, in search of hesitation before gaping the space between you in an encounter of soft lips.

The peck is gentle, insecurity gripping your guts at your show of vulnerability. It isn’t until you feel her fingers holding your jaw and angling your face that you relax, pressing your fronts together as your palms travel up, gripping her nape and groaning when her tongue meets yours.

Much like a dance, the kiss is in perfect sync, you follow each other's movements as if you had done it a thousand times before. There barely is any time spared to breath, beneath the sweetness of it there’s an urgency, a hungriness for this moment. Her nails rank over your neck and your legs encircle her in their own accord.

Time stands still, your perception of it slipping as you lose yourself in the woman in front of you. Dying in this instant is something you’d heartily agree too as long as you were able to keep the other woman’s lips on yours. The brunette, however, doesn’t seem to want your downfall anytime soon. She separates to take in a breath.

The air between you is shared as your foreheads touch, your eyes closing to take in what had just happened. Reciprocation was never something you expected from her and, now that you had a taste of it, of her, you could feel addiction clawing on your insides.

It did run in the family after all.

“Lydia.” You mumble.

“Yes, baby?” She responds, fingertips playing with the tip of your wet strands.

Your palms slowly run down the side of her body before grasping her waist, you hesitate.

“Tell me what you want.” The manager says, sensing your uncertainty.

“I want- I need you.”

She takes a step back, hands falling to your covered shoulder to watch your face. You can only imagine the way you look, wide eyed and pathetic, wearing thin pajamas and mustering all your strength into a pleading expression.

Whatever it is that she is searching for, she seems to find it in no time.

“I’m yours, baby.”

The simple answer is enough for the air to get stuck in your throat, arousal building up at the promise of what is to come.

She is the one that kisses you this time, guiding it into the same slow rhythm as before. There is no hurry in her movements, she savors you as one does their favorite meal, prolonging the taste on their tongue as much as they can.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” You whisper against her lips, afraid she would think this was just a distraction to you.

This seems to build her resolve, her hands discard the towel on your back as her mouth unhurriedly descends into your neck, planting small pecks and sucking. One of her palms falls to the small of your back, holding you up as your head falls back. She reads you like a book, observing your reactions and the quiet sounds you let out, goosebumps growing on your skin at being touched in a sensitive place.

A gasp escapes you when she finds your pulse point, lightly running her lips over before softly biting the skin and hearing you moan. Her free hand travels up your body, from waist to collarbones before slowly taking off the blue strap of your pajamas. The thin material falls easily down your shoulder, exposing part of your right breast. You shiver as her nails run down your chest, squirming under her caress when she reaches her destination.

She squeezes your soft mound, stroking her thumb over your hard nipple and feeling you involuntarily buckle. Your own fingers take care of the other strap, letting the satin fall down your arm and bunch in your hip, eager for her touch on your fervent skin. She smiles softly against your neck before pulling back once again to look at you. This time, though, her pupils are dilated, she’s not searching your face, but drinking in as much as she can of the view in front of her. Your spine curves at the attention and your lower half shifts forward, seeking her touch on your wet folds.

“You’re so good for me, honey.” She says, mouth dropping to suck the upper side of your left chest.

The praise makes you pudge on her embrace, tears showing themselves once again as you let them fall freely, cascading down your cheeks.

“Please, don’t stop.” You beg her, afraid she’d notice your crying and take it the wrong way.

Her big brown eyes meet your wet ones, she gently places a peck on your lips as if to show you that you’re safe.

Her ministrations don’t meet your urgentness, she tends to you as if polishing a porcelain doll and, as much as your desperation grows in scale, you can be nothing but grateful for the care. Her fingers descend down your curves, landing in your thighs and squeezing them.

The whine that escapes you is pathetic.

She plays with the material of your shorts as she sucks a purple spot into your pulse point, marking you as hers. That finally seems to quench her thirst for your neck and her lips brush down to your chest, teeth grazing a path on your skin as she bends your back slightly to close her mouth around a nipple.

A hiccup rocks your body as it's filled with buzzing anticipation, your fingers tangle in her short brunette hair and your palm rests behind you to hold your own weight. Your hips move on their own, making small circular motions against the desk as her hands reach up to grope them.

“Lydia.” You breathe, drawing her closer.

She softly bites the underside of your chest as a response, her digits travel down your waistband and a groan reverberates against your skin when she meets your wet curls.

“Oh honey.” She says simply, your cheeks burn.

As if sensing your embarrassment, her eyes find yours. She places a gente peck against your lips, free hand moving up to cup your jaw as she mutters.

“You are so beautiful.”

Her thumb caresses your cheekbone, her lower fingers stroke your soaked slit. The praise and delicacy combined with the need inside you makes you pull her in for another kiss, legs squeezing her midsection in an encouragement for her to continue.

She moans against your lips, the salty taste of tears growing on your tongues. Your bottom buckles against her hand when she nears your entrance, only for her fingers to gather your wetness and move up to circle your clit.

“Please, don’t tease me.” You beg, separating yourself and holding her by the lapel of her shirt. “I can’t take it.”

The weak timber of your voice makes her shush you softly, wiping the falling tears.

“Oh baby, no. I’m not teasing you, I’m just making sure you are ready.”

The concern is sweet, you couldn’t have asked for anyone better at your side in such a sensitive moment, but as much as it warms you, it doesn’t prevent you from pathetically speaking.

“I’m ready! Please, I just- I need you inside me.”

She kisses the wet trails on your cheeks, her digits enter you oh so gently, as if afraid you could break in her arms at any given moment.

As if you weren’t broken already.

Her palm meets your damp curls, her fingers fill you up and you close your eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of having Lydia inside you. When she doesn’t move, though, you undulate against her hold, gasping when your clit meets her skin.

She smiles softly at your eagerness, before drawing her finger out and dipping them in again, startling a slow, torturous rhythm. Your head falls forward, resting against her covered collarbone as your hips urge her thrusting, trying and failing to make her move faster.

“Relax, baby.” Her breath ghosts your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Giving in for someone else, letting go of your control, is not something you are used to, the idea usually leaves a bitter taste on your tongue and a sourness in your stomach, but now, you do so naturally. Trust a foreign notion that leaves you lightheaded.

You relax against her hold, rests your temple on her shoulder and stops to feel the slow build pleasure washing over you. It envelops you calmly, as if out of grasp, working on its own time even if your body screams for it, for release, for the bliss of becoming unthinking for a minute.

The fingers curl, your breath hitches. Lydia’s free hand takes hold of the back of your knee and pulls you closer, digits plugging deeper and making you shudder. The puffs of air that leave your mouth hit the brunette’s wrinkled neck and return to you, sweat growing on your brows as your body heats up.

“That’s it, baby.” She encourages, thumb drawing random circles around your clit. “You are doing so good.”

A whine escapes you at the praise, her black blouse bunching in your hold. Her finger finds the soft patch inside you and the calm thrusting is enough to have your eyes stinging with pleasure, the gentle approach of an orgasm alien to you.

This type of intimacy is not something you are familiar with - to be coached, unhurriedly and attentively, through the waves growing in your body as it becomes rigid with pent up release. You shift with anxiety at the slow pace, but don't force Lydia to abide by your desires, only sink your nails into her covered shoulders and shiver when her free hand runs up to caress your hard nipple.

The pinch makes you jump, a chain reaction following the electrical shot up your spine that, even with the unhurried rhythm, has you losing track of the world around you. Lydia applies pressure into your clit as you seize, the circling motion making you groan loudly and unrestrained, your out of reach orgasm approaching all at once as you become rigid.

She speeds up now, just a little, just enough to have your toes curling and your eyes rolling, white flourishing behind your lids as she hits the perfect spot to have you trembling in seconds. It’s overwhelming and it feels sudden when your peak washes over you.

The movement of your hip you’ve been trying to contain comes back at once, you meet her palm as you lose control of yourself, goosebumps rising in your skin as your hands squeeze the clothing beneath them. The gasps that leave your lips make you breathless and your vision swims in front of you, blurred by tears of pleasure. Your climax brings in the relief of body and mind as your thoughts are completely clouded by emptiness, the only thing you can do is feel.

And just as unexpected as it started, it's over.

The air in your lungs insufficient from the exertion and rush of emotions, you puff against Lydia’s collarbones, forehead resting on her shoulder. The smell of her rich perfume invading your senses as you weakly shift in her embrace, nodding as a signal and whining when she takes her fingers from inside you, cleaning them in the towel, never letting go of you.

There’s a calming stillness in the ambient, the tea still boils on the stove, the sun shines over you and Lydia as you come back to yourself.

And, like she had done many times before, the brunette waits, calmly holding you as you breathe, nails stroking your wet strands.

“Take you time, honey.”

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Tag list: @awlwgeneraldinosaur @im-a-carnivorous-plant @kenzdawinz @thoroughly--confused @weemswife @justartever @littlemspurrfect @czl4t @greek-freak101 @multixfan @filmedbyharkness @cabbage2000 @theogonia @liliastriangle @sweetcheeksschemmenti @bravewithacapitalb @purple-alien-ufo @cinnamongirlblogsworld @writerspirit @live-laugh-love-lupone @womankissersworld @im-tired-24-7

#lydia lebasi #lydia lebasi x reader #law and order svu #patti lupone #patti lupone x reader #patti lupone fanfic #jubshead fics

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biibini · 4 months ago

Text

steady eyes ‧ ♡*.✧

instances of mizu staring at you

tags: modern!mizu x f!reader, nsfw, more brat/teasing reader, eye contact, taigen frat bro makes another appearance, public teasing, sweet talk + dirtyyyy talk, neck kisses, mizu strapped asf

a/n: got inspired by this post analyzing her smiles… but like in a more silly way :P reqs coming out soon once im back home from break!

18+ content ahead!

modern!mizu loves to stare at you, whether its intentional or not

a quick glance or a longing, enamored gaze

during the first few dates with you, she would end up looking at you, her eyes slowly flicking up & down, a few times throughout the night

ima be honest she does the triangle method without even realizing it: look at left eye, lips, and then right eye

with the nerves and all, you ended up pointing it out and asked

“Is there something on my face?”

Mizu’s eyes met yours across the dining table, now alert and somewhat confused.

“What?”

“I asked if there’s something on my face.”, you repeated.

“Oh… um… there’s nothing.”, she responded with uncertainty.

Mizu looked down again, as her cheeks began to warm up. Thankfully, the flickering table candles shielded her flushed face.

“You just…look so beautiful.”

after that, you start to notice how long she stares at your lips without her even realizing it

modern!mizu has gotten caught staring at you when you change

not in a creepy way but more in a ‘wow my girlfriend looks so good’ way

when you pass by, she loves to place her hand around your hip, pulling you just a little closer to her

“Mizu! I need to go to class.”

“Mmhmm.”, she says, lazily reaching out, barely pulling your hips closer to her.

It just so happened that the space between the closet and the bathroom was close to Mizu’s side of the bed.

“Let goooo, or I’ll be late.”, you playfully argued as the feeling of her grip loosened.

You hear her groan, slowly stirring away. As nice it would be to sleep in and cuddle with Mizu until the late morning, you unfortunately needed to lock into this class.

And unfortunately leave Mizu behind.

While doing your skincare, you feel a pair of eyes staring at you from your side. You wipe your face with a towel, hoping to find that it was nothing but an after thought.

Nope. Not at all.

You find Mizu half awake, lazily watching you get ready. You smile, ushering her to go back to sleep.

“Honey, I’m just getting ready. Just stay in bed.”

She nods in response, yet still continues to watch you prepare for the day. Today’s class was more formal than usual due to the 2 guests speakers. That meant looking somewhat put together and somewhat professional.

With some combing and styling and face beating, you were able to leave your hair looking put together, almost ready for a professional interview. The last part was putting on your clothes.

At this point, Mizu was awake than ever, now sitting upright, watching her pretty girl get ready for class.

“Need help?”, Mizu asked, hoping to help with a button or two.

You come over to the bed, half naked with only underwear and a button-up on.

“Do you mind helping me button my shirt? I really need to rush out soon.”

Mizu quietly sat up on the bed, now on her knees to be able to button your top, hiding away the small marks she had made the night before. As you zipped up the long skirt, Mizu places her lips, leaving gentle kisses by the nape of your neck.

“You look…”

A soft peck.

“so good and…”

Another soft peck.

“honey, smell so good.”

Yeah, forget about going to class to find the optimal spot. You were barely late by 30 seconds, arriving in a swift rush of adrenaline from a quick pre-lecture make out session.

modern!mizu ‘s eyes tend to wander a lot too

in public, it’s mainly small glances to your face, chest, maybe behind from time to time…

she thinks she’s slick, casually checking out her girl, making sure she’s all safe and totally not glancing for something… right?

wrong!

you’re aware of this too btw.

that’s why you didn’t wear anything underneath before a party one night.

it was the usual house party hosted by taigen and his brothers: loud, obnoxious, great music to deafen everyone to the point where you need to speak into each others ears just to hear one another

typically, mizu and you would arrive a bit early with ringo, help set up, chill in the living room, and then leave when akemi got too tired or bored

this night, the living room ended up being the epicenter of the party, forcing you to sit atop of mizu’s lap with nothing but a top and a short, flowy skirt.

it wasn’t too tight or revealing. however, when sat on, it proved otherwise.

You sunk into Mizu’s lap as she lays back on the couch, sitting comfortably atop of her, letting your arm wrap behind her. As you planted yourself atop, Mizu felt something otherwise. Besides the feeling of your side wrapped by her arm, a warmth started to ignite atop of her lap.

Mizu looks down, finding your skirt lifted towards her, and a lack of a panty strap. Or any kind of strap at all.

Flustered, she immediately flipped your skirt down, shielding your hidden secret away from others. With a free hand, she pulls your leg close, caressing up and down your thigh. You feel the ridges of her hand stroke up and down your thigh, inching closer to your heated epicenter. Although her hand strokes were soft and gentle, the latter hand proved otherwise. You feel her grip on your hip tighten, sending one clear message to you: she knows and loves your little surprise.

You pull yourself closer to Mizu, staying at earshot distance as the beats thumped against the walls, the yells and noise of the crowd blended into a white noise.

“Like what you feel?”, you whispered into her ear, slyly shifting back and forth against her pants.

No one but her noticed the feeling. Everyone else was minding their own business.

Mizu’s mind can handle pressure. It has worked well countless of times on the road, at school, against Taigen, or in any other dangerous situations. It’s totally not the most ideal thing to control when her girlfriend is being a tease in public.

Her grip on your thighs now tighten, attempting to stay calm. The heat of her palm keeps your legs together, safe in her grip. Her hand by your hip pulls you close, your ears now in range of her voice.

“Do you want to test me?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”, she scoffs, playfully mocking your response, “I’m not sure that’s the right answer, honey.”

You feel her grip on your thigh inch upward, practically centimeters away from your throbbing entrance. She then pulls back, tapping on your thigh as a signal to get off.

You stand up, carefully pulling down your skirt around the others who were too deep into n their own conversations, or too deep in each others throats. Right behind you stood Mizu, one casually placed hand by your hip, and the other more carefully gripping your ass check, giving it a firm squeeze before the leaving the party.

“Let’s figure it out back at home, hmm?”

after getting fucked out all night, i think you’ve learned your lesson with her

from getting fingered in the backseat to filled on the bed to moaning out her name as she ate you out, you promised yourself to never tease her that much ever again

unless you wanted to see god

modern!mizu ‘s eye contact during sex is intense

especially when you’re below her, taking her all in, she’s focused on observing your reaction

she can’t help but stare

and maybe the way your boobs jiggle is another factor too

You feel her eyes glaze down your body, ocean blue eyes taking in the sight of you getting fucked out by none other than a strap of hers. She easily penetrates you again, swiftly entering, lubricated by your liquids. She fills you up, her grip on your waist tightening from how wet you are, your cum smeared all over her thighs.

You groan out her name, grasping onto the sheets with every thrust. Looking up, you meet her gaze, orbs shimmering a light blue against the moonlight. She swiftly enters you again, fully enveloping in your throbbing mess, making your back arch in response. You feel her eyes stay glued to your body, as she rapidly sped up each thrust, further exploring every inch of your insides.

“M-Mizu…”, you moan as she continued to drill your insides.

“Mm, hon, you’re doing so well”, she cooed, cupping one of your boobs with your hands, her grip now loosening on your waist.

You feel her thrusts slow a little, as she gently began to squeeze the softness, her palm warming up against your hardened nipple. Her thumb caresses it, softening the surrounding skin with a circular motion. She enters you deeply, every thrust making the boob in her hand bounce without any handiwork.

Mizu curses to herself, still in awe of how beautiful you are as she watches your reaction, listening to every groan and moan hoping to milk out of you throughout the night.

modern!mizu enjoys waking up earlier than you

everything is at peace when you’re asleep

if you’re more of a heavy sleeper, she doesn’t mind watching over you while quietly sipping some morning tea

if you’re more of a light sleeper, she’ll attempt to slip away with without waking u up. if u do end up stirring awake, she’d tell u to go back to sleep, promising to come back soon

no matter how messy you may look, she likes the peace and quiet whenever she gets the chance to buy breakfast in bed for you two

either way, she’ll be quietly watching over you until you arise :)

#bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #modern au mizu #modern mizu headcanons #mizu x fem!reader #mizu x y/n smut #modern mizu smut #blue eye samurai smut #neck kisses #i just have a soft heart for mizu i miss her #well more like im hard iyk what i mean hehe #ok stop reading tags and go read ab mizu

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skyward-floored · 1 year ago

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Swapped (part 2)

Incredibles au power swap pt. 2! Checking in on some of the other boys, who are... struggling lol.

Part 1 | Next

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Hyrule woke up feeling cold.

A shiver went through him as he slowly came back to awareness, the cold feeling sinking into his very bones, and he wondered why whatever he was lying on was so hard and uncomfortable.

Why did his chest hurt? Why was he so cold? He hadn’t woken up like this since...

Since...

Panic smacked into him, and Hyrule‘s eyes flew open, his heart thudding as he looked around. He took in the unfamiliar walls around him, piles of rubble and dirt, and right as his heart began to pound with fear, he saw Time waking up, a hand held to his chest.

Hyrule sighed in relief, and carefully sat up himself, immediately feeling better. If dad was here, he wasn’t back on the streets, or... worse.

But... that didn’t really answer the question of where he actually was.

Before Hyrule could try and figure it out though, someone let out a panicked gasp. Hyrule jumped and turned around, and saw Wild sitting on the ground a few feet away, looking on the verge of hysterical.

“I’m— I’m slow,” Wild choked out, and Hyrule blinked in confusion as he watched Twilight stumble to his feet beside him, a hand held to his head.

“Wild, it’s all right,” Twilight said, taking a step, then yelped as he somehow went running across the room and straight into a wall. “Ow!”

“You took my speed!” Wild wailed, and Hyrule stared, watching as Twilight tried to get to his feet, but fell over again when his legs went too fast for him. He did a quick glance around the hallway, not seeing anyone else apart from his two brothers and dad. If he had to guess, the rest of his family was probably blocked off by the wall that had collapsed.

...Which had collapsed because of a weird explosion that had also knocked them all out. Right. Now he remembered.

Time properly sat up and looked at Wild and Twilight, his face creased with concern... and a little pain, Hyrule thought. Wild stopped yelling when he saw their dad move, but he still looked panicked, and it seemed like Twilight was afraid to move, his expression confused and fearful.

“Boys what is going on?” Time asked, and Twilight wrapped his arms around himself.

“I don’t know, I woke up and couldn’t hear barely anything and then Wild started yelling and somehow I have his speed and I can’t turn into a wolf,” he said rapidly, clutching at his hair.

“And now I don’t have anything!” Wild added, looking on the verge of tears.

Hyrule blinked, and an even colder feeling ran through him as he digested that. It looked like the explosion had done more than just collapse the wall and knock them out... it had also messed up Wild and Twilight’s powers.

...were they the only ones?

Hyrule quickly drew on his own powers, just to reassure himself nothing was wrong with them. He tried healing first, summoning a blue glow to his hands, but then the icy feeling that had been with him even since he’d woken up suddenly intensified, and Hyrule‘s stomach lurched.

The blue glow was the wrong color.

He tried again, more frantically, but the blue continued to be the wrong color, cold instead of the usual warm, and ice began to spread out from where Hyrule sat, only increasing his panic. Trying to shield brought up no results either, and Hyrule drew desperately on the strange cold power he could feel inside of him, trying to make it heal, to make it shield, do anything it was supposed to be doing.

All he could produce was ice.

Hyrule gasped, trying to stay calm, but not succeeding in the slightest at keeping back the wave of panic that was crashing over him.

What was happening? Anything he tried just kept turning into ice, shielding didn’t work, healing didn’t work, his...

His powers were gone.

The one thing he’d been able to rely on his entire life.

Hyrule felt his breath pick up, his heart pounding as more ice spread out from him. He wouldn’t be able to shield people anymore, protect himself and others from danger, he couldn’t heal, he wouldn’t be able to do anything if he or anyone else got hurt, all he could make was ice and ice and ice—

“Hyrule,” a voice said, and Hyrule looked up and saw his father had joined his side, a worried look on his face.

“Dad— I can’t— I can’t get my shield up,” Hyrule managed to choke out, clutching at his hair. “And my healing, it’s not working, it’s just ice—”

“Hyrule calm down,” Time reassured, holding out a hand.

“Why— why is it doing this, I— wait, don’t touch me! I’ll freeze you!” Hyrule choked as his father kneeled beside him, and Time ignored his words, taking his hands in his own.

They felt... warm.

“Hyrule, I’ve dealt with Warriors’ powers more times than I can count, you won’t freeze me. Calm down,” Time continued, and Hyrule’s brain stuck for a second on the phrasing. Warriors’ powers? “Focus on reining them in. It should be like your own powers, just a little different. Relax.”

Hyrule sucked in a deep breath, thinking slowly through Time’s words and trying to do what he said. He carefully pulled on the strange powers he had, trying to make the cold ease back and stop escaping from him like a leaky faucet, and the ice began to slow in its spread.

Encouraged by the results, he focused a littler harder, and the ice stalled as he took in more deep breaths, finally tamping his panic down to something more manageable. The ice had stopped, and he felt a little less cold as his hands stopped glowing.

The lack of warmth in his middle from both his powers was still terrifying, but Hyrule thought he could... work with it now.

...Maybe.

Hyrule let out one last shaky exhale, and Time squeezed his shoulder, Hyrule leaning into it and feeling much calmer.

“...thanks Dad,” he sighed, and Time nodded.

He stayed next to him for another few moments, letting him continue to calm down, but then Twilight yelped again, and Time drew back with a sigh. He pulled his hand off of Hyrule’s shoulder, but as he drew back, Hyrule let out a startled squeak.

Everything below his father’s elbow was missing.

Time jumped, a truly shocked look on his face, but before he could do anything, his fingers flickered back into view like they’d never been gone at all.

Hyrule and Time both stared at them, and Hyrule watched as Time’s arm abruptly faded out of view again, appearing and disappearing at random.

“You... have Legend’s invisibility?” he said hesitantly, beginning to get an idea of what might be going on, and his father slowly nodded, staring intensely at his hand. Whatever he was trying to do didn’t seem to work though, and he sighed, standing up and helping Hyrule stand as well.

“It looks like it. And you have Warriors’ ice, and Twilight has Wild’s speed,” Time said, and winced as Twilight tripped and landed on his face. “Twilight?”

“Fine,” his son called back weakly, and Time led Hyrule over to where Wild was still sitting in a mild panic.

He patted the both of them on the shoulder, looking into their eyes for a moment, then walked over to Twilight. Wild looked nearly as shaken as Hyrule felt, if not more, but he merely leaned against Hyrule’s arm, Hyrule leaning on him in return.

Looking at how unsettled Wild appeared, Hyrule wasn’t sure if he’d prefer having the ice he currently had, or the nothing Wild seemed to posses.

“Come on Twilight, you can stand,” Time said as he walked away, and Hyrule and Wild both watched him. Twilight was sitting up, but he still looked afraid to move, his face anxious. “You can do it.”

“I’ll just trip again! Why am I so fast all of a sudden? I don’t want Wild’s speed, I can barely hear anything like this or smell anything and I can’t turn into a wolf!” he said rapidly, and Time slowly helped him up.

“I believe our enemy decided to test something on us,” Time said, and Hyrule thought back to what the voice on the intercom had said. That would explain the test subject thing. “And if I'm right... somehow he switched around our powers.”

“But that’s not possible,” Wild spoke up as Time carefully guided Twilight over to them, “you can’t just... switch powers! That’d be like me and Hyrule randomly switching heads!”

“Well somehow he’s done it,” Twilight grimaced.

“And we’ll probably have to stop him to get our proper powers back,” Time sighed, watching as his fingers disappeared from view again.

Hyrule looked around at his family, more then half of them missing from the room, Twilight pale with anxiety, Wild still unhappy about being slow, random bits of their father occasionally disappearing from view.

This... just got a lot more complicated.

Wild looked at Time’s arms, watching as they randomly faded in and out of view, and a grin suddenly stretched across his face, wide and mischievous.

“Dad, did you get both of Legend’s powers?” he asked, and Hyrule and Twilight both turned to look at him as well, Hyrule unable to stop his smile as he realized what he meant.

“I have no idea. And even if I did, I’m not testing it right now,” he said dryly, and Wild and Hyrule both made disappointed noises. “Sorry boys. We need to focus on fixing this mess.”

“Have you tried to contact anyone yet?” Twilight asked, and Time shook his head, pulling out his communication device.

“That’s what I was on to next. I think it’s safe to say everyone’s powers got messed up, so it’s unlikely Artemis is going to come find us.”

“Unless whoever got her powers does,” Wild pointed out, and Twilight shook his head.

“I doubt it. We can barely control the ones we got. I mean, if I’d gotten intangibility, I don’t think I would want to test it by trying to walk through a collapsed wall.”

Hyrule winced. That was a good point. It probably wouldn’t end well if whoever got Artemis’s powers couldn’t use them very well, and accidentally came back in the middle of the wall.

Time busied himself with trying to get his radio working, and Twilight did his best to help him, his leg jittering so rapidly it blurred a bit. Hyrule looked back at Wild, his brother looking miserable, then ignored the urge to shiver as he drew his knees up to his chest.

Why did Warriors’ powers have to be so cold? He thought his uncle had said that the cold didn’t even bother him, why was Hyrule so freezing?

Why couldn't they just be straight-forward like mine?

Hyrule sighed and glanced back at Wild again, frowning when he saw his expression had dimmed even further while he watched Twilight’s leg jitter rapidly in place.

“Are you alright Wild?” Hyrule asked, and Wild shrugged, making the face he made when he was trying to appear unbothered.

“Yeah. I’m fine. You’re... kinda pale though,” he said, looking over Hyrule. "You okay?"

Hyrule shrugged, trying not to look as shaken as he still felt. He knew Wild probably just wanted to help, but he was pretty sure if he thought about his switched-up-also-missing powers too long he’d cry.

Wild somehow read his expression though, and after a moments hesitation, put his arm around Hyrule’s shoulder, giving him a little squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” Wild said. “We’ll figure it out, Roolie.”

And for some reason Hyrule believed him, the words like a warm blanket on his still-shaky nerves. He near-immediately relaxed, and Wild looked at him in surprise as he leaned on him more, before realization flirted across his face.

“Oh. I got Mom’s,” he said, and Hyrule looked at him weirdly.

“Huh?”

“I got Mom’s powers. You know, she has her whole horse-soothing voice she uses, it’s really good at calming down horses and other animals. I... guess it also works on people?” Wild said hesitantly. “At least I think that’s what that was.”

Hyrule blinked, not sure how he felt about that. But for some reason the thought didn’t seem too worrying, so he shrugged, and set his head on Wild’s shoulder. He was nice and warm, and helped chase away some of the chill.

“Guess so. We’ll have to find a horse so you can test it,” Hyrule murmured, and Wild let out a quiet laugh.

A sigh caught their attentions, and the two looked over at Time and Twilight, both of their face grim.

“No luck,” Time said as he put his radio away with a frown. “It's being blocked. Looks like we’re on our own for now.”

“We should try and find the others then, right?” Twilight asked. “Because not to underestimate us right now, but uh... I don’t know if we can take on this scientist guy in the state we’re in.”

“I could,” Wild said with a bite to his voice. “I’m going to punch that jerk right in the mouth for taking my speed.”

“We were all headed for the top floor when we were ambushed, we’ll continue heading that way,” Time decided, rolling his shoulder. “The others will doubtlessly be working their way that direction as well, so we’ll try to meet up with them on the way. Are you all good to go?” he asked, looking at Twilight and Hyrule especially.

Hyrule nodded, and Twilight glared at his feet, then sighed.

“Yeah. I can walk.”

“Good. Let’s get going then,” Time said with a nod.

And as he took a step forward, he was suddenly doused in shadows.

Everyone jumped, and Hyrule stared as the shadows grew smaller, condensing most intensely by the floor. He had a brief moment of panic before he recognized what the shadows meant, and he froze, exchanging quick glances with his siblings.

The shadows faded away mere moments later, and a small, one-eyed rabbit was left sitting dazedly on the ground.

Hyrule, Wild, and Twilight stared.

Then Wild fell to the floor laughing, and Hyrule bit his lip to stop his own from escaping, the rabbit that was now their father twitching his nose in alarm. He shouldn’t laugh, he really shouldn’t, but Time was so small, and fluffy, and seeing his father as a rabbit of all things was just...

Hyrule couldn’t help his giggle, and Twilight knelt beside Time, their father swiveling his ears in his direction and giving him a wide-eyed look.

“Are you, um, okay Dad?” Twilight asked, his mouth twitching, and Time blinked once or twice, before letting out a rather squeaky sigh.

“I’m fine. Come on, the sooner we fix this the better,” he grumbled, voice slightly squeaky, and began hopping in the direction they’d planned to go in.

Wild finally stopped laughing, though it was a close thing when he saw Time hopping determinedly across the floor. Twilight followed after their father, and Hyrule and Wild trailed behind, Wild still letting out an occasional giggle.

"I guess that answers the question of whether he has both of Legend's powers," he snickered, and Hyrule shook his head in disbelief. This day couldn't get any weirder.

Twilight lifted Time up to sit on his shoulder after only a minute or two of walking, their father's face surprisingly grim for a rabbit, and Hyrule glanced at them, anxiety still churning in his stomach.

He still felt a little shaky and unsure from the shock of his powers being gone, worried for the rest of their group, and Time being a mostly-defenseless rabbit only added another layer to that. But Wild seemed confident, and Twilight and Time were both putting on brave faces, so Hyrule decided he would be too.

They could do this. They’d stop the scientist guy, and make him fix this.

Screwed up powers or not.

And Hyrule kept telling himself that, even when Twilight lost control of his legs again and smacked into a wall mere moments later.

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edosianorchids901 · 1 year ago

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Forget How To Feel

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "a silent hug"

St. James’s Park, 1860

“Ooh, and I thought perhaps we might go to the theatre soon! That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? We could go see Hamlet again.”

Crowley grunted in response to the enthusiastic chatter. His only audible contribution to their meeting so far, aside from grunts of agreement, was the tap of his new cane. The silver snake head handle wasn’t exactly comfortable to hold, and definitely not practical, but it looked cool. Very fashionable.

“Or-or-or perhaps something a bit more cheerful,” Aziraphale said with a sideways glance at Crowley. Crowley averted his gaze, studying the ducks instead. They seemed a lot happier than he was. “I know Hamlet isn’t precisely your favorite thing. I do adore it, especially because it reminds me so much of your kindness.”

Crowley hissed softly.

“Well, it was kind. And don’t argue with me, Crowley.” Aziraphale stopped, and Crowley jammed the cane down to slow himself without toppling over at the sudden change. His legs hadn’t been very reliable this week. “Actually, I would feel somewhat better if you argued with me. You haven’t said a single actual word, and I’m not sure whether it’s because something’s wrong or if I’ve simply been babbling too rapidly for you to sneak in a response.”

Aziraphale waited for him to reply. Crowley stared at the ducks and didn’t reply.

When Aziraphale just kept standing there, waiting, Crowley finally caved. “S’ not you. But nothing’s wrong.”

“Something certainly seems wrong. I-I am aware that I’m often chattier than you, but you usually at least, well. Chat.” With a little sigh, Aziraphale searched his face. Crowley found himself grateful for the new sunglasses that shielded his eyes from the side, too. “Quite frankly, I’m starting to worry.”

There it was. The phrase that would always get him to reply at least a bit, even if he masked the worst of the trouble. “You don’t need to worry, angel. I’m just… kinda down. S’ not a big deal.”

Ducks splashed in the water, totally absorbed in their own lives. It looked peaceful.

“Yes, well. You’ve been ‘kinda down’ since that whole incident in Edinburgh.” Aziraphale swallowed hard, twisting his gloved hands together. “Of course, it’s not that I can blame you, considering the trouble you were in. I merely wonder if I could be of assistance.”

After a minute, Crowley shrugged. Then he looked around nervously for observers. No one seemed to be paying any attention at all to them. “D’ya think ducks ever have a bad day? Or are they just, y’know… happy as a duck, as the saying goes?”

Aziraphale gave him a baffled look. “I’m not entirely sure that is a saying, my dear. Although I’m not always entirely on top of slang…”

That was an understatement. Normally, Crowley would have teased Aziraphale a little about that. Right now, it seemed like too much work.

When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale gave a little huff. “Well, would you rather we met up another time? If you’re having a bad day?”

“I didn’t say I was having a bad day. I was just asking about ducks,” Crowley protested despite knowing that Aziraphale would never buy it. Aziraphale gave him a look. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’m having a bad day. But I just want to…”

He snarled in annoyance, unable to admit it. He just wanted to be with Aziraphale. Not doing anything, not talking. Just together, where the world didn’t feel so bleak.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly. “Well, in that case, I’d be more than happy to stay together. We don’t have to talk, if you’d rather not. Why don’t we go sit on the bench for a bit? It’s actually quite a nice day, sun and everything.”

“Nnnh.” Crowley glanced towards their usual bench. It was usually comfortable. “My legs are killing me today. Sitting on wood doesn’t sound terrific. But I don’t really wanna walk back to the shop, either.”

“I could carry you.”

“I am not letting you carry me. That would definitely make people look at us.”

“No, I mean…” Aziraphale snuck a quick look around. “Not in this form. You could turn into a serpent. We could even sit on the bench like that, if I’d be a more comfortable place to rest.”

Biting his lip, Crowley regarded the angel beside him. Aziraphale was definitely the most comfortable place around, no question about that. “People would still look at us.”

“And then they would assume that I’m merely an eccentric, taking my pet snake out for a walk on a nice, sunny day.” Aziraphale held out his arms. “Shall we?”

Crowley snorted. “You’re not even gonna let me sit down first?”

“We can, if you feel like walking.”

Oh. He really, really didn’t feel like walking.

With a soft hiss, Crowley leaned his cane against the fence and laid his hands on Aziraphale’s forearm. “Okay. Okay. But I swear, if you let any humans pet me…”

Aziraphale beamed. “No humans petting you. I promise.”

Reassured, Crowley shifted into his rarely used snake form, coiling around Aziraphale’s arm as he did. The pain in his legs morphed too, distributing to most of his body. But at least it was different, and less intense.

He opted for a pretty big snake, big enough that he would probably scare most observers away. Aziraphale cooed and hugged him close, supporting him carefully. “Oh, my dear. You’re so adorable in this form.”

Crowley hissed his disapproval.

“My apologies. You’re… very striking. Handsome. Stunning. Also quite large.” Chuckling, Aziraphale shifted Crowley’s weight to one arm, then picked up his cane. “Shall we?”

That didn’t mandate a reply, so Crowley didn’t bother getting one. He was too busy being a snake, enjoying the way it sanded the sharp edges off his mood.

It shifted his priorities. Sure, he was still depressed and exhausted and in pain, not to mention constantly worrying about everything going wrong again. But all of that receded. All the snakey side of himself cared about was warm angel, and he definitely had warm angel.

“Here we are.” Aziraphale sank down onto the bench. He leaned the cane nearby, then wrapped both arms around Crowley’s coils. “Would you like me to talk at all, or be silent?”

Right now, talking was too much to process. Crowley hid his face under Aziraphale’s fluffy cravat thingy.

Aziraphale gave a soft chuckle and stroked his coils, then simply wrapped his arms around Crowley and lapsed into silence. Crowley emerged from under the cravat, resting his chin on Aziraphale’s arm.

The previous pileup of anxious worry faded, retreating deeper into the background as he sank into the comfortable lack of conscious thought. Right now, none of that seemed to matter much. He was with Aziraphale, being hugged to incredible warmth. Nothing could be more important than that.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #ace omens hugfest 2024 #snake crowley #disabled crowley

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bradleysass · 5 months ago

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Under the Stars - word count: 753 - Jegulas

The Black Lake stretched out before them, its dark waters rippling gently under the silver glow of the moon. The dock creaked softly beneath their weight, and the air was crisp with the bite of late autumn. Regulus Black sat beside James Potter, their feet dangling off the edge, barely grazing the water. The silence between them was not tense but fragile, like a thread that could snap if either spoke too loudly.

“You know,” James said finally, breaking the quiet, “for someone whose family is so obsessed with their name, you’d think they’d love this lake.” He gestured at the expanse of water, the stars above reflected in its surface like scattered jewels.

Regulus huffed a quiet laugh, his breath visible in the cool night air. “I doubt my family would ever appreciate something as simple as a lake, no matter how much it happens to share their name. They’re more interested in—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

James turned to look at him, his hazel eyes glinting in the starlight. “It matters to you.”

Regulus didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head back, his dark hair falling away from his pale face as he looked up at the stars. “Do you ever wonder,” he began softly, “how much of us is decided before we’re even born? Who we’re supposed to be, what we’re supposed to believe?”

James leaned back on his hands, his gaze following Regulus’s to the sky. “Not really,” he admitted. “I guess I’ve always figured it’s up to us. What we do, the choices we make—that’s who we are.”

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Regulus said, but there was no malice in his voice, only a faint, wistful envy.

“And you’re not?” James teased, nudging Regulus’s shoulder lightly. “You’re here, aren’t you? Sitting with me, breaking all kinds of unspoken Slytherin rules?”

Regulus smirked, but his expression quickly faded into something more somber. “It’s easy for you, James. You’ve always known where you stand, what you believe. You’ve never had to question it.”

James was silent for a moment, studying the other boy. Regulus’s profile was sharp and elegant, but there was a vulnerability in the way his shoulders hunched slightly, as if he were trying to shield himself from an invisible weight.

“You’re not your family,” James said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re not your house, or your name, or whatever bloody expectations they’ve dumped on you. You’re… you.”

Regulus turned to look at him then, his gray eyes searching James’s face. He wanted to argue, to say that it wasn’t that simple, that it could never be that simple, but the way James was looking at him made the words catch in his throat. There was no judgment there, no pity, only quiet assurance, as if James truly believed what he was saying.

The dock creaked again as James leaned forward, pointing up at the sky. “See that one?” he said, his voice lighter now. “That’s Sirius.”

Regulus snorted. “I’m aware, Potter. It’s literally my brother’s namesake.”

“Yeah, well,” James said with a grin, “it’s a fitting star for him. Bright, hard to miss, kind of a pain in the arse because it outshines everything around it.”

Despite himself, Regulus chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

“And that one,” James continued, pointing again, “that’s Orion. Your dad, yeah? Big and imposing, but kind of empty in the middle.”

Regulus shot him a sharp look, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Careful, Potter. I might start to think you know more about my family than I do.”

“I doubt that,” James said, his grin softening into something gentler. “But stars are funny, aren’t they? They burn for ages, but what we see is the light they left behind, not what they are now. It’s like looking into the past.”

Regulus tilted his head, considering this. “So what does that make us?”

James shrugged. “Maybe we’re the in-between. What we do now shapes what people see later.” He paused, then nudged Regulus again. “Which is why I’m saying, you’ve got a choice, Black. Be the light they see later. Burn brighter than all that darkness.”

Regulus didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze drift back to the stars, his thoughts swirling like the water beneath their feet. The silence stretched between them again, but this time, it felt less fragile.

“Maybe,” Regulus said at last, so quietly that James barely heard him.

For now, it was enough.

#marauders #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #sunwater #james potter #regulus black #i've had this in my drafts for over a month lol #it's one of my older writings #microfic

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caffedrine · 8 hours ago

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Keith Howell Sequel 11 True Love Route - Fan Translation

If you trust me to know what I'm doing, then we have both made a huge mistake. I cannot guarantee accuracy for this fan translation, or even grammatical correctness.

Please support Cybird and pick up this event when it makes it to the English Server

A little rewind in time—

—There’s something I’ve been struggling with for a while, unsure whether or not to tell you.

That day… beneath a dark world cloaked in heavy clouds, I took a step toward the shadowed figure standing in the gloom.

The air between us was sharply tense, clearly different from usual.

There was an unmistakable boundary that said: Don’t step any closer.

—It’s about how you treat Emma.

Even so, I moved forward.

—I understand your desire to protect her.

—But lately, your need to shield her feels like it’s one step away from chaining her down.

—It’s too much.

Alter!Keith “…You might be right.”

—So you are aware of it?

Alter!Keith “I’m not doing it unconsciously, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Alter!Keith “But honestly, you seem abnormal to me.”

—How so?

Alter!Keith “You’re too carefree. Did you forget about how you lost your precious younger brother?”

—……

Alter!Keith “What’s lost can never come back.”

Alter!Keith “And you know that better than anyone—so how can you stay so calm?”

Alter!Keith “If I had locked her away, bound her, and kept her at my side… at least she wouldn’t have been hurt like she was.”

Alter!Keith “That’s a lot better than tasting the pain of losing her.”

The clouds thickened further, blocking out all light.

Alter!Keith “You must feel the same way deep down.”

Alter!Keith “We may be different in personality, but in the end, we’re the same.”

In the long silence, the soft sound of leaves rustling filled the gaps between us.

—…You might be right. You are me, and I am you.

—I want to keep her far away from danger, to let her spend her life in a safe, peaceful place.

—But still, I won’t do it.

Alter!Keith “…Why not?”

—I don’t want to chain her down.

—No matter the reason, taking away her freedom is never justifiable.

—Only a heartless beast would do that.

Alter!Keith “……”

—But that feeling… you have it too, don’t you?

—You and I were both drawn to her heart—untainted, free, and beautiful.

Alter!Keith “……”

—You asked me earlier how I can stay so calm…

—But I’m just pretending to be calm.

—I’ve lost someone important too. I’ve despaired so deeply that I wished for death.

—Maybe I’ve simply gotten used to it more than you have.

—But even so, I never want to lose someone again.

—I’m no longer the powerless man who could only lean on you.

—I made a vow the moment I accepted my feelings for her and came to terms with my past.

—I want to be someone who can protect everything.

The normally stoic other half stood there, stunned, like a lost child.

He said nothing. His usual resolve was gone. But his eyes were trembling.

—But this vow is not something I can fulfill alone.

—Do you remember?

~Flashback~

Alter!Keith “‘I want to keep planting beautiful flowers of happiness in this country forever.’”

Alter!Keith “That’s what I once promised my little brother… and now, as the next king, and as Emma’s lover—”

Alter!Keith “I want to fulfill that vow together with him, my other self.”

~End Flashback~

Alter!Keith “…Yeah. I do remember saying something like that.”

—Now, perhaps it’s your turn to face it.

—Just as I once had to.

There was no reply. The shadows quietly swallowed everything.

The conversation between the two ended there.

~Present time~

Alter!Keith “…”

The pounding rain drenched his entire body, chilling him to the core.

Through the heavy strands of his bangs, his golden eyes quietly gazed at the figure discarded like trash.

On the ring finger was a familiar-looking ring.

Kagari “Keith.”

Without a sound, a man with burning red hair appeared and followed Keith’s gaze.

Kagari “Did you lose something precious again?”

Kagari “Or… is this the first time?”

(Shots fired)

Alter!Keith “…You…”

Kagari “Ah, so it’s the first time, then.”

Kagari “Don’t be so down about it. On the battlefield, this is nothing unusual.”

Without a trace of emotion, he looked down at the figure lying on the ground as though it were an object.

The moment those empty words of consolation reached Alter!Keith’s ears, a blade was drawn from its sheath, slicing through the falling rain.

It clashed against Kagari’s sword, and the dry shriek of metal was swallowed by the sound of the storm.

Kagari “Taking it out on me?”

Alter!Keith “You said it’s nothing unusual on the battlefield, right?”

The surge of bloodlust rippled through the air, startling a nearby cat into leaping away and sending sheltering birds into flight.

Kagari “What do you gain from killing me?”

His question didn’t reach Alter!Keith’s ears—his golden eyes, blazing with rage, had already locked onto their target.

Like a beast baring its fangs, Alter!Keith kicked off the wet ground, his sharpened blade pursuing the demon of Kougyoku.

But Kagari, calm as if soothing a rampaging beast, dodged with graceful ease.

He blocked the trembling blade with his own, deflecting it lightly.

Kagari “Don’t lose control over something like this. Calm down.”

Alter!Keith “‘Something like this,’ huh. Maybe to you.”

Alter!Keith “But to me, it’s not.”

Kagari “I see. You're in no state to talk right now.”

Kagari had been on the defensive, simply blocking the furious strikes—but in a sudden opening, he countered with a swift kick.

The raging beast caught the leg with his arm, grabbed the collar of his prey now within reach—

But red hair swayed with intent, and with the precision of someone who had waited for just this moment, Kagari delivered a headbutt meant to snap Alter!Keith out of his frenzy.

Alter!Keith “…gh…”

Alter!Keith let go of his collar, stepping back through the mud.

But the murderous glint in his golden eyes didn’t fade. His anger only grew.

Kagari “Same hard head as always… that hurt more than it should’ve.”

Alter!Keith “You…”

Kagari “Still not coming back to your senses?”

Kagari “This isn’t like you. Why are you directing your anger at me?”

Kagari “Do you think I did this?”

Alter!Keith “…”

Kagari “Look.”

Kagari sheathed his sword and walked confidently toward the discarded figure in the forest.

He lifted the body, soaked and caked in mud, with one hand—and from beneath the long hair, a face was revealed.

In an instant, the bloodlust surged like an arrow—but it was just as quickly interrupted by something clearly unnatural.

Keith “…That’s not… Emma…”

Kagari “It’s just a wax doll.”

Kagari “They’re quite the popular souvenir in Kougyoku. Though typically they’re palm-sized.”

Perhaps because it had been exposed to the rain for so long, the surface of the "thing" had begun to melt, becoming entirely lifeless and inorganic.

Alter!Keith's sword slipped from his hand and disturbed the water in the puddle below.

Kagari “Your fiancée is safe. The real Keith asked me to protect her before going to the royal palace.”

Alter!Keith “Where is Emma?”

Kagari “She’s staying at King Kuga’s villa with the people from the Rose Kingdom.”

Kagari “She’s probably waiting for you right now.”

The moment he heard that, Alter!Keith bolted from the scene without even picking up his fallen sword.

Kagari, watching him disappear without a glance back, released his grip on the doll.

It collapsed onto the ground. From afar, it looked disturbingly human—so intricately crafted it was hard to tell it was fake.

The clothes it wore, the ring on its finger—everything was clearly modeled after a specific person.

Kagari “……”

With a sigh, a cat jumped down from the trees and landed on his shoulder.

As he stroked its small chin, it purred in satisfaction.

Kagari “...Even for them, this is seriously bad taste.”

~Later~

Kagari “Emma!”

Emma “Eh—Keith, when did you—?”

Emma “…Keith?”

Just moments ago, I had been praying for Keith’s safety as he made his way to the royal palace.

The gloomy skies only made my worry worse.

Until today—it felt like an eternity.

It had only been a few days, but as time passed, my anxiety swelled. I had even forgotten how to sleep.

That’s why when Keith suddenly appeared before me, I had wanted to greet him with a smile.

I had prepared myself for that moment…

(But… something’s off.)

Keith pulled me into a tight embrace.

So tight, it made my bones creak.

(…ugh… it hurts…)

It was as if he were checking to see that my body was truly warm, pressing himself against me without the slightest gap.

Keith’s body was wet, and the remnants of the rain began soaking into my own clothes.

Emma “…Did something happen?”

Instead of the “Welcome back” I had practiced, those words slipped out first.

Alter!Keith “No…”

Alter!Keith “I just figured you were waiting for me, so I rushed back.”

(…Keith being cheeky…?)

At last, he let go, and I could see a faint smile peek out from behind his wet hair.

But his face was far weaker than I had ever seen it before.

The breath he let out as he looked at me was laced with fatigue… and a trace of peace.

And deep in his golden eyes I saw a tremble.

(I’ve never seen Alter!Keith look this fragile before.)

(He’s always so composed, always smiling like he’s got everything under control…)

As I stood there, unable to find the right words, Alter!Keith reached out to me.

His finger gently traced under my eye and in that motion, I understood exactly what he meant.

Alter!Keith “Couldn’t sleep… because you missed me?”

Emma “…So you noticed.”

Alter!Keith “With bags under your eyes like those? They’re impossible to miss.”

Alter!Keith “Don’t worry. Nothing happened that should make you feel anxious.”

(He’s pretending everything’s normal.)

There was no sign he intended to answer the question I had just asked.

(But I don’t want to pretend not to notice the small changes anymore.)

(Even so… right now, I just want to celebrate that he came back safely.)

My thoughts finally caught up, and I wrapped my arms around Keith’s body.

As I held him, the dampness from the rain transferred to me—this time, with a trace of warmth.

Which line will you choose?

—Welcome back —I'm glad you're safe —Thank you

Emma “Thank you for coming back safely.”

Emma “But first, you should take a bath.”

Alter!Keith “You’re right. Want to join me?”

Emma “Do you want me to?”

Alter!Keith “You’re soaked too… Sorry.”

(Alter!Keith’s being so honest today—it’s throwing me off a little.)

I shook my head and forced a smile.

Emma “I wanted to hold you too… Let’s go in together.”

Alter!Keith pulled me into another hug.

The breath he had been holding escaped against my neck as if he were finally letting something go, and I felt the weight of his body lean into mine.

(Even with his large frame, he feels so small today.) (What should I do…?)

Unable to find the right words, we changed out of our wet clothes and headed to the parlor.

There, we found King Leon, Lord Licht, and even Prince Kagari all gathered.

(Something’s off.)

Leon, who usually wore a smile, had a deep furrow between his brows. Even Licht’s normally unreadable expression seemed tense.

Alter!Keith “…Kagari, you told them?”

Alter!Keith’s voice—usually kind—was now laced with tension, sounding like his more guarded, harsher side.

Kagari “It’s not something that should be kept secret.”

Kagari “It’s a desecration of your fiancée.”

Emma “…What do you mean?”

(Does this have something to do with what was bothering him earlier?)

I looked up at Alter!Keith. His golden eyes rippled again.

Alter!Keith “…Yes. Emma, you probably deserve to know.”

~Later~

Emma “So… there was a doll that looked like me, abandoned in the rainy forest?”

Kagari “Yes. As if it were a corpse.”

(That explains it…)

After I sat down and listened to the full story, what welled up inside me was a sudden, impulsive anger.

The cruel method of it… The very image of “a lifeless body left in a rainy forest”—

It must have brought back vivid, haunting memories for Keith.

(It was far too similar to how his younger brother died…) (Even if it was a coincidence… I can’t forgive it.)

I clenched my fists in my lap to keep the rage from spilling over.

Leon “The question is—who did this, and why?”

Licht “Keith, do you have any ideas?”

Alter!Keith “…I might.”

Alter!Keith “You all know I went to see Prince Shiou.”

Alter!Keith “There’s something I was told there.”

Keith looked up—his eyes fixed on Kagari.

Kagari “You seem very eager to make me the culprit.”

Alter!Keith “I’m not saying that. But I can’t fully rule you out either.”

Alter!Keith “The bandits who attacked us before were apparently from Jade.”

(From Jade…?)

That single phrase triggered a flood of thoughts about Keith’s standing back home.

(The faction that once pushed Keith to the brink… the prince’s supporters…) (Even though their leader, Lord Fernand, is no longer alive, many of them are still around.) (They still hold ill will toward Keith… and now, they’ve gone as far as to try to sabotage him even here in Kougyoku?)

(But…)

Kagari “What does your problem have to do with me?”

The question I had raised was spoken aloud by Prince Kagari himself.

Alter!Keith “The bandits in question were reportedly staying within Kuga faction territory.”

Alter!Keith “If the Kuga faction was cooperating with those bandits, then there’s a hypothesis we can build.”

Alter!Keith “There are people in the faction who bear a grudge against me—and they possess a certain ‘weapon.’”

(…The 'golden cash cow.')

Alter!Keith “It’s a poison—so powerful it could change the tide of an entire war.”

Alter!Keith “They could’ve offered that weapon in exchange for cooperation in their revenge.”

Alter!Keith “Even if Jade were to grow distrustful of Kougyoku over this incident, the Kuga faction already signed the trilateral alliance.”

Alter!Keith “When weighing me against the weapon, it’s possible they chose the latter.”

(It might not be entirely impossible…)

(*Though it’s all based on the condition that ‘if the cooperation is real…’)

Leon “So, what’s the reality then?”

Kagari “Brilliant. I can only admire your remarkable deduction.”

(…)

Alter!Keith “Right? Which is why I think it’s the work of someone pretending to make it look like that.”

(Huh?)

Licht “So in other words, someone’s trying to drive a wedge between Jade and the Kuga faction?”

Alter!Keith “Exactly. There’s no other explanation.”

Emma “…Wasn’t the suspicion originally directed at Prince Kagari…?”

I spoke up quietly, and Alter!Keith, unfazed, let a sly smile curl at the corner of his mouth.

Alter!Keith “Of course he’s suspicious. It’s still smart to be cautious of Kagari.”

Kagari “That a jab from earlier?”

Alter!Keith “I don’t know what you mean. But based on the circumstantial evidence, I actually think the Kuga faction is innocent.”

Alter!Keith “Revenge usually means killing. Taking the time to craft a lifelike doll just for harassment? That’s pointless.”

(Now that he mentions it… if the prince’s faction really is behind this, their goal would likely be Keith’s assassination.)

(Spending effort on petty intimidation doesn’t fit.)

Alter!Keith “More than likely, that doll was a warning—criticizing our attendance at the Kuga faction’s goodwill event.”

Alter!Keith “It felt like a threat: ‘If you get any closer to the Kuga faction, you’ll lose your life.’”

Leon “That explanation makes more sense. Right now, the Kuga faction’s drawing massive support from other nations.”

Leon “Wanting to chip away at that power even a little would be a logical move.”

Emma “So then… the one behind the doll was someone from a different faction?”

Alter!Keith “Yes—but it’s also clear whose order it was.”

Keith’s gaze shifted toward Kagari. Without changing expression, Kagari simply shrugged.

Kagari “My brother.”

#ikemen prince #ikepri #keith howell #kagari amagase

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missingnozw · 2 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

AAAH!! So excited!! Thank you so much for thinking of me @becausedragonage and @pixiedurango!! I'm late (yesterday I couldn’t post it because I had a 24-hour shift at work and didn’t have access to my WIPs), but even if it’s not wednesday, I’m posting it anyway!!

I started working on this a few weeks ago. The idea came from a collab I'm working on with @alystrin03, and… I just wanted to explore things a bit more. Specifically, Mel and Ashur’s relationship!! This would be the first of a series of one-shots I have planned :)

Hope you like it and... more under the cut!!

______________________________________________________________

In Tevinter, nights like this were rare. The sky was clear, allowing the dim light of the waning moon—or the even fainter glow of Satina—to bathe everything in an almost ethereal sheen, making the stars shine brighter than usual. It was unusual for this time of year, even more so in Minrathous, where rain seemed like an inescapable fate for those who were lucky—or unlucky—enough to live there.

Still, Melara wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. On nights like this, she liked to climb up to a rooftop, put some distance between herself and the world, and spend hours studying the sky and its constellations: Eluvia, Fenrir, Solium… she knew them all. Her mother used to tell her about them when she was just a child, and after the worst had happened, she had kept sneaking out of the orphanage at night to watch the stars, just as she used to do with her.

She took a sip from the wine bottle resting beside her, popping a couple of almonds into her mouth—just a small snack to keep her going for the hours she planned to stay there. Lazily, she lay on her back, stretching without noticing the presence that had been watching her from across the rooftop for some time now. Acting on impulse, the man silently made his way closer from the side. She only became aware of him when he was just a few steps away, forcing her to prop herself up on her elbows as she recognized him.

"Ashur."

He kept walking toward her, his slow, deliberate steps carrying a certain predatory air—one she might have found unsettling if she didn’t know him better. His voice was deep when he finally spoke, his expression obscured by the shadow of his hat and the veil covering the lower half of his face.

"If I were an enemy, you'd be dead"

The woman let out a soft laugh, sitting up with her knees bent and nodding in acknowledgment.

"I was counting on a certain mage to be doing his usual patrol…"

He chuckled, sitting beside her, and for a few minutes, neither of them spoke. It was odd, really, how she never felt the need to fill the silence when he was around. She enjoyed those moments when she didn’t have to make the active effort of being—when she could simply exist. And Ashur never asked anything more of her. She could tell he felt comfortable in her presence as well, and over the past few months, she had noticed how he sought her out more and more. Even if it was just to sit in silence—to be.

And yet…

"You do know only an idiot wears a hat when there’s no light to shield from, right?"

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

Have a nice day!!! Mwah!!

#OC: Melara Mercar #wip wednesday #datv #dragon age: the veilguard #ashur x rook #ashur dragon age #rook mercar #shadow dragon rook

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pedropascallme · 2 years ago

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Silence the Night

Pairing: sick!Cassian x gn!Reader

Summary: “Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely.”

Warnings: None :) Comfort and fluff with sick Cass.

AN: Post-Andor S1, pre-Rogue One. Yeah this plot makes little to no sense but give a girl a break. Sometimes I need to write silly little things about my silly little babygirl.

“Let me in.”

You flipped yourself over, staring at the ceiling from the comfort of your bunk having been pulled from your admittedly light sleep by the familiar voice on the other side of the door. There was no time for idling in the rebel barracks; meals were eaten quickly, conversations were cut short, sleep was not a given, and neither was coming home at the end of the day. Suffice to say, despite the stifled urgency in Cassian’s voice, you hesitated to let him in after the rude awakening he had caused you after a day of running in every direction.

You heard a near whine of your name as Cassian continued his plea for you to open up. “I know you’re here. Come on!” He knocked on the metal that divided the two of you, then let out what you assumed was a sneeze. Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely. His sunken eyes were red around the edges and glassy. You frowned.

“See, there you go!” He pushed past you and into your room, “Not so hard to just open up.” He stripped off the tan jacket he loved so dearly and threw it onto the chair pushed into the small desk that took up the far-left corner of the room before falling backwards onto your bunk, arms spread above his head. He had gotten as comfortable in your room as you had in his; most intervals between flight patrol were spent together, most meals were eaten together, most secrets shared. He was the first person that had made you feel like you were meant to be rebelling, he had put effort into showing you that you had a place in these barracks and in this fight—and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, though he could be a pain in the ass.

“Cassian,” you closed the door, flicking on the overhead light as you turned to face him, watching him blink to get used to the brightness, “why are you here?”

“Ouch.” He moved a hand to cover his chest, shielding his heart from your words.

“Why are you here right now?”

“To hang out with you.” He rolled over on the mattress and shifted his body upwards to grab your pillow and cradle it to his chest.

“I can’t—” You hardly managed to get the words out before he was tsking you.

“You’re not on the schedule for the next 8 hours.” He chided.

“I want to use those to sleep!”

“So, sleep. I’ll stay here.” He sat up and patted the place beside him to coax you toward him. You crossed your arms.

“Cassian.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He sneezed again, trying to muffle it in his shoulder.

“Are you sick?”

“No. Allergies.” He was trying to sound confident, but the quick counter gave away his defensive attitude.

“You’re an awful liar. Get off my bed.” You walked over to him, attempting to pull him off the bunk to no avail.

He protested by going limp and falling onto his back. “Let me stay.” He looked up at you, brown eyes pleading and hair falling over his forehead. “I can be quiet.”

“No, you can’t. And I’m more worried about you getting me sick.”

“I won’t!” He sneezed, then smiled at you sheepishly.

You sighed, looking over at the clock on the desk and taking in the fact that arguing with Cassian had, per usual, taken up far more time than it was worth. You sat next to him, defeated. He hummed in content.

“I’m going to sleep.” You waved him off as he sat up to meet your gaze. “Are you just going to sit and watch me? Like some beady-eyed porg?”

“I’ll sleep, too.” He resigned to the fact that, although he had won a battle, you would not forgo the rest you so desperately wanted. You made a noise of approval, reaching for the pillow he had moved to the foot of the bed so that you could put it back in its necessary position. You crawled under the sheet and watched as Cassian took off his boots before turning off the light and coming to lie next to you. He positioned himself above the sheet, letting out a string of coughs and resting his head at a distance from yours on the other pillow.

“Don’t cough on me.” You mumbled, closing your eyes.

“I didn’t cough on you.”

“You coughed near me.”

“That’s not at all the same thing.” He turned his head to look at you, waiting to see if he could goad you into another argument. You swatted at his chest.

It wasn’t unusual to share a bed with another person on the base; between away missions and overcrowding and all the drills, you couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the times you had huddled into a cot with another rebel. It was always more welcome when that rebel was Cassian, not only because of the familiarity you felt around him, not only because of the attraction to him that you tried to keep at bay, but mostly because of the blanket of protection he seemed to offer you. He was by no means a watchdog—he slept far too deeply to offer any sort of intruder alert—but his frame felt like a sort of safe haven from the galaxy at large. You had never found the courage to admit that to him, and expected that if you ever did, the confession would be met with his usual ribbing.

Cassian made a low rumbling sound, turning his head away from you to face the wall. You groaned, turning on your side toward him. “Cough.” He did. “Don’t torture yourself on my account, Cass.” You settled back into the mattress in your new position, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t want to disturb you.” He whispered, ignoring the fact that you had addressed him at a normal volume, keeping up the front of really not wanting to get in the way of the sleep you craved. You kicked him lightly from under the sheet and he sneezed in your direction.

“Don’t be a baby,” you kicked at him again, “and get under the blanket.”

“Why?”

“You’ll sweat out whatever it is you have.” Ultimately, your true intention was to be closer to him, to have him surround you more, but the concept of him recovering from whatever it is he had caught was an appealing one if this is how he was going to act while ill. He relented, pushing himself off the bed with his shoulders and feet to shimmy the sheet down and back over his legs and torso. You remained on your side with him on his back, trying to ignore the way his profile looked and the sounds of chatter and machinery outside your room. It was hard to imagine a life beyond all the pandemonium; at this point in your life, you had gotten used to the all-encompassing cacophony of the galaxy. Having been so young when the Senate came crashing down and the Empire formed from its ashes, there were times where it felt like noise was the only constant, and there was worry that accompanied the thoughts that maybe you would only ever know the tumult of the Empire—the screams and jeers and hushed conversations over fears that, at a certain and much earlier time, would have felt so outlandish, were now just a backing score. You rubbed your eyes and went back to tracing the shape of Cassian’s nose with your eyes. He turned himself on his side to face you, opening his eyes and staring back at you.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, for some reason now genuinely feeling the need to stay hushed.

“We should see if there’s any soup tomorrow…” You murmured, trying to bury yourself into your pillow. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to have been caught staring after putting up such a fight to allow you to fall asleep, it was more so the thought of having been using him as a distraction from the doubt you were plagued with.

“You’re also a terrible liar.” He traced back of his hand over your cheek in an effort to get you to emerge from your pillow. You turned back to him, grateful for the contact he was giving you. You took his hand from your cheek and clasped it in your own.

“What if it’s all for nothing.” You managed to whisper. You didn’t need to clarify what it was you meant, he of all people knew that any effort against the Empire was a long shot.

“It isn’t.” He was blunt, and you didn’t have to look at him to know his face was painted with the same thousand-yard stare you had grown accustomed to seeing him wear. Sometimes you felt guilty when it came to burdening Cassian with your cynicism and all the dread you harbored. He had told you about his childhood, about his foray into the rebellion, detailed how he had overcome all odds—and all you had given in return was your hesitation.

“And if it is?” He examined you, his smile faded slightly, and even in the darkness of your room you could see how his eyes darted over your face.

“At least we’re doing it together.” He squeezed your hand. It wasn’t a complete answer, not that you had expected one. Nobody on the base would ever bring themselves to really contemplate the repercussions of the whole operation, of any greater failures. Still, the confidence in Cassian’s voice was enough to bring you peace of mind for now, at least. The two of you stayed like that, looking at each other, fingers intertwined and breathing in sync.

“I feel safer with you, Cassian.” You broke the silence, feeling that now was as good a time as any to disclose the information to him. He said nothing, continuing to look at you and ruminating in the quiet. For a brief moment you felt the sting of rejection, but before you could come to terms with the idea that your confession had gone unheeded, you felt Cassian wrap an arm around you. He pulled you closer to him, pushing his other arm underneath your side to fully sweep you into his embrace. You felt his legs tangle with your own and the room felt soundless; something about how you felt his breath fan the top of your head or how his hands felt spread over your back made you feel a stillness you hadn’t thought possible.

“You are safe with me.” He mumbled into your hair, and you leaned into him in an attempt to get as close as you possibly could. You felt his heart beating into you from the position you held, and you made a small sound of what was meant to be appreciation. You basked in the quiet, the calm seeping into your aching body and taking hold of your mind, settling your thoughts and insecurities. All you knew in this instant was Cassian, and his warmth, and his voice, and the way he smelled like smoke and x-wing grease and Alliance issued soap. You breathed deeply against him. He made another guttural sound.

“Cough, Cassian.” You whispered against his chest, and he did, trying not to interfere with the comfort you both felt in the newfound arrangement you had found yourselves in. “I was serious about the soup.”

“Mm,” he grunted, “like you were serious about sweating it out?” You smiled, moving your face slightly upwards so you could feel the soft skin of his neck against your nose. He kissed your forehead, his lips making gentle contact and staying pressed to you for a stretch. “Terrible liar.” He chuckled, letting his head drop comfortably on the pillow you now shared. You wriggled an arm out from between your bodies to swat at him again. He sneezed.

#cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #kassa #andor #diego luna #diego luna fanfiction #diego luna x reader #diego luna x you #andor fanfiction #andor fic #cassian andor fic #rogue one #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one fic #star wars #star wars rogue one #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic

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akehoshimystar · 7 months ago

Text

Sei SSR

A Little Break Between Work

Part 1

Ito: Hello, it’s Yashiro. I've come to deliver some documents from Shinkai-san. Sei: [Oh, thank you for coming. You may come in.] Ito: Well, pardon my intrusion.

The moment I picked up the bag with the documents and opened the door to enter their house. Something occurred.

???: GYAAAA! Ito: ! (What on earth!?)

A man's scream suddenly rang out. Without even taking off my shoes, I hurriedly dashed into the living room.

Ito: Sei-san! Are you okay!?

Sei: Huh?

Sei-san turned to face me with his usual expression. In front of me was a TV with a horror documentary playing. All I saw was a man running through the forest at night.

Ito: (No way….) Did that scream… come from the TV…? Sei: I must have startled you. I’m really sorry. Ito: It’s okay, I also jumped to conclusion… How embarrassing…. Sei: I’m very grateful for your concern, though. The fact that you rushed over right away really made me glad. Oh, the documents. I’ll take care of them. Ito: Oh, sure.

Completely forgetting about them due to the shock, I handed over the documents to Sei-san. At the same time, a paranormal phenomenon was being introduced on TV.

Ito: (Isn’t this kind of scary?) Sei: They used to broadcast it before, so this is a re-run. Are you interested?

After checking the documents, Sei-san might have noticed my stare.

Ito: Oh, not really. Sei-san has been acting calm the whole time, so I thought maybe you have a tolerance for ghost shows. Sei: I’d say yes, I do have a tolerance. In fact, I might even like it. Aside from how entertaining it is, when humans have a frightening experience, their true natures come out, don’t they? Rather than what the ghost do, I enjoy seeing the true nature of humans when they face supernatural phenomena. Ito: I see… (Maybe that’s just how Sei-san enjoy things…..)

Not long after our talk….. A strange clanging noise was heard from the second floor.

Part 2

Sei: ………. Ito: What was that sound just now? Sei: My guess is as good as yours. It sounds like someone had dropped something…

I glanced at the TV and they were talking about poltergeist phenomenon. A mysterious sound and what’s on the TV. It's only natural to make the association with this timing.

Ito: (Now that I have become aware of it, I can’t help but want to find the source of that sound…) Sei: Okoge is sleeping over there, and if it's Haruhi, the sound should be a little heavier.

Sei-san must have sensed my uneasiness, so we began our investigation.

Ito: A thief? .….Or am I just scaremongering? Sei: There’s no harm in taking that into consideration, it’s a nice thing to do actually. However, since we hold a lot of confidential information, our security is the best out there, so I dare say the possibility is low. Ito: Right… Sei: They say the scariest thing is the unknown, as long as you're okay with it, would you like to go check it out, Yashiro-san? Ito: Yes. It would be a problem if something were really to happen, so I want to make sure.

We made our way to the second floor, speaking in low voices so as not to make any noise.

Ito: (Ah….)

While I was watching the situation in the hallway, Sei-san, who was in front of me, held up one of his arms to shield me.

Ito: (….. How reliable.) Sei: There doesn't seem to be anything unusual as far as I can see. I already checked my room, but there was nothing out of order. …If there is something, it has got to be either Haruhi’s or Taiga's room. Ito: (That being said, we can't just barge in without permission.)

I'm sure they'll understand if we say there were circumstances, but let’s leave that as a last resort.

Ito: There's also the possibility that it's just our imagination, shall we go back downstairs for a bit?

Shortly after I suggested that…..

???: ……….ugh.

Part 3

Ito: ! Sei-san, just now….. Sei: Yes, I heard it. It was more like a moan than a noise… ???: ……………Ugh. Sei: From Haruhi’s room?

We stood in front of Ichikawa-kun's room and looked at each other.

Ito: (That noise from earlier…) Sei: Let's do this. Ito: Yes.

With a serious look on his face, Sei-san knocked on the door.

Sei: Haruhi, are you okay? Ito: (No reply……) Sei: If there's no response within 3 seconds, I'll barge in. 1, 2, 3…

The door was opened after the countdown. And what’s in front of our eyes is Ichikawa-kun slumping his face on the desk.

Ito: Ichikawa-kun! Haruhi: …….. Sei: He seems conscious. Are you alright? Haruhi: My head….. It hurts…. Ito: Pardon, but let me touch your forehead. ..…..No fever, either. Sei: Haruhi, we’re going to move you to the bed for now. Try not to move your head. It would be terrible if you got even worse. Ito: I'll help you.

And so, Ichikawa-kun was able to rest safely in bed. Once I felt relieved, I saw what I hadn't noticed before.

Ito: Sei-san, do you see that computer mouse? It was lying on the floor. Sei: Ghost really occupied our minds, huh. He probably dropped it when he was lying down on the desk. That must be the noise we heard.

When we returned to the living room, the TV was still on.

The horror show seems to have ended. It has now been replaced by a lively variety show.

Sei: Haruhi’s condition doesn’t seem that bad, what a relief. Ito: Yeah. That was even more nerve-wracking than ghost occurrence. (Come to think of it, "When humans have a frightening experience, their true natures come out”….. or so he said.) (In that case, perhaps our true natures were revealed earlier. Both mine and Sei-san’s) Thank you so much for earlier. For both when we were exploring the second floor, and when you dealt with Ichikawa-kun. You were very calm and reliable. Sei: Oh my, it's an honor to receive a praise from you. But I could say the same to you, Yashiro-san. Even though you were scared, you tried to go forward to confirm that everything was okay, it was such a marvelous sight. Your reaction to Haruhi lying down was also just as wonderful. Ito: That’s because Sei-san stayed calm during the whole thing. I think I would have panicked more if I had been alone. Sei: Fufu, if that was the case…. What a shame Ito: ?

Sei: Since I kind of want to see you in that state. Ito: !? Sei: Sorry, that was a joke. Ito: (I felt like you were pretty serious just now…)

But no matter how invisible some of his natures may be. After today’s event, I have an impression that Sei-san is reliable in times of need and really cares for his friends.

#break my case #buremai #joseimuke #Okiya Sei #Ichikawa Haruhi

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lemoncake64 · 24 days ago

Text

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62796466/chapters/166651816

Unexpected Hero

By lemoncake62

Undertale x Zelda crossover fic

Chapter 26 Cracks in the Wall

“Alright, alright, hold still. Lemme just—” Sans had just placed the tips of his fingers on the Hylian’s side when—

BANG.

The door slammed open so hard it nearly came off its hinges.

"NYEH-HEH-HEH! BROTHER, YOU HAVE RETURNED WITH—OH MY GOD!" Papyrus froze mid-stride, his arms raised in the classic heroic greeting pose. His expression shifted from eager joy to horrified confusion in a split second.

"Mmf?" Frisk let out a confused noise behind the Monster. Undyne, who had followed Papyrus in, blinked once… then immediately doubled over, slapping her knee with a snort.

“OH MY GOD, THIS IS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER WALKED INTO!” She bellowed.

Link, still sitting on Sans’s bed, his tunic off, bruised and breathing hard, was now very aware of how this must look. Sans, kneeling right in front of him, hands on his ribs, had realized the same. His usual lazy grin twitched slightly. Papyrus, meanwhile, had entered full Little Brother Panic Mode.

“THIS IS A SCANDAL!” The tall skeleton yelped.

“A SCANDALOUS SCANDAL!” In one dramatic motion, he lunged forward and clamped both skeletal hands over Frisk’s face.

“DO NOT LOOK, TINY HUMAN! YOUR EYES MUST REMAIN UNSCATHED BY THIS… THIS… ADULT ACTIVITY!!”

"WHAT?!" Sans choked, nearly falling over.

“NO EXCUSES! LOCK YOUR DOOR IF YOU’RE GOING TO DO ADULT FUN STUFF SANS!” Frisk, still held hostage behind Papyrus’s hand shields, started vibrating with laughter. Their muffled giggles were only making the situation worse.

“I AM SHIELDING THE CHILD’S INNOCENCE!” Papyrus declared, dramatically spinning around while dragging Frisk with him, hands still covering their eyes.

“This isnt what-”

“DO NOT DEFEND YOUR PASSIONATE ACTIONS!” The younger brother cried.

“I’M LEAVING BEFORE THIS GETS EVEN MORE GRAPHIC!” Before Sans could even get a word in, the taller skeleton had already rushed out. Frisk still in tow, their laughter trailing behind like a confetti cannon of chaos. The door slammed shut with a bang that suggested it might never open the same way again.

Silence.

"PFFFT—" Undyne cackled, clutching her stomach.

"HOLY SHIT, HYLIAN!" She stomped her foot against the floor, barely able to breathe.

"I didn't know you liked Monsters that much!" Link made a strangled noise. His entire face was burning.

"That—that’s not what this is!" Sans finally managed, throwing his hands up.

"The fuck?!" Undyne only laughed harder. Link, still frozen in place, wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.

Undyne’s laughter finally subsided when she truly looked at Link. Her grin faded, replaced by a sharp, assessing gaze as she took in the bruises scattered across his body, particularly the deep, dark one encircling his neck. Then her eyes fell to how he was holding himself, noticing how his breath hitched slightly with even the smallest movement. Her expression turned serious.

"Damn, dude." She took a step closer, crossing her arms.

"You should’ve said something sooner. That’s some serious damage." Link avoided her gaze, shifting uncomfortably where he sat on the bed. She caught sight of the way he was cradling his side and winced.

“Shit.” Her tone softened, less teasing now, more concerned.

"Broken ribs?" Link gave a single nod. She let out a low whistle.

"Yikes. No wonder you look like you’re about to keel over. Need help patching him up, Bones?" Sans still looked frazzled from the earlier misunderstanding, but he huffed, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets.

#ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #crossover #legend of zelda #fanfic #link #sans #sans undertale #twilight princess #undertale

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velidewrites · 2 years ago

Note

A prompt for Elain week (if it inspires you!) : tired/cranky Elain coming home to a surprise prepared by Lucien & baby Elucien.

Also, a duckling offering, keeping in the spirit of Elain week 🦆🌸

Elain was dying.

Her mind felt as though it had been turned into a puddle—a soggy mess deserted by all thoughts but one: sleep.

She should’ve known better than to exhaust herself like that. Still, she’d insisted—had begged Feyre to go one more time until her sister crossed her tattooed arms and firmly told her to go home.

So Elain did. Rhysand, Cauldron bless him, had winnowed her onto the large landing on the upper levels of the Day Court Palace, usually reserved for the High Lord’s Pegasi—though, as a winged beast himself, Elain thought with a small smile, her brother-in-law had fit in just right.

He rolled his eyes playfully, ever the daemati—as if, despite her mental shields sturdy and high up, he could read the thought only by looking at her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her before flying off into the night sky.

She could barely walk as she made her way inside—today’s lesson, it seemed, had managed to take its toll on her physical strength as well. Fortunately, her rooms were located on this level. She wasn’t entirely sure she would’ve survived a walk up the stairs tonight.

A thrum of a mighty, ancient magic welcomed her from a shaded corner of the hall, as it swirled around its owner like bright rays of sunlight.

Elain didn’t even bother to look in his direction—to the wide, knowing grin, no doubt blooming upon his face. She was well aware of how utterly ridiculous she looked without his insight.

“Not a word,” she muttered.

Helion’s low chuckle echoed off the golden pillars, trailing after her until she stood in front of the large, ornate doors of her quarters.

They opened before she even managed to reach for the handle, revealing a very tall and very handsome male waiting on the other side.

Lucien’s lips twitched. “You look like hell.”

Elain shot him a glare, and he laughed. “This isn’t funny,” she warned, but Lucien’s laugh only deepened, a rich, honeyed sound that seemed to wrap itself around her skin.

Cauldron damn him, but she couldn’t help but smile. “Fine. Maybe it is a little funny.”

Lucien’s auburn brows shot up with amusement. “I have never seen your hair look more like a bird’s nest.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And we’re back to not funny at all.”

Lucien’s grin turned feline. “So cranky, my mate,” he purred, reaching to brush his fingers over her cheek.

Elain’s heart quickened, but she looked down—down to the pink bundle nestled in his strong arm, to the tiny face buried within, small, rosy lips parted in a gentle dream. “How long has she been asleep?” she asked, her voice a tad quieter now.

“Not long,” Lucien told her. “Come inside. We have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Elain asked, but she stepped into the room anyway.

Lucien jerked his chin to the right. “Bathroom,” he instructed.

So to the bathroom she went.

What she found inside made her sigh with delight.

The grand, marble tub, stationed in the middle of the open space, was filled with bubbles to the brim, the soft scent of warm, sparkly water filling her lungs deliciously. But it was the flowers floating atop that made her eyes burn—the roses, daisies and violets, all a lovely gift meant to raise her spirits and make the experience even more special.

“You deserve a moment to yourself,” her mate’s voice sounded quietly behind her. “You’ve been working so hard, Elain.”

She turned to him with silver lining her eyes. “Thank you.”

Lucien winked. “It was a team effort, you know,” he said, gesturing to the babe still sound asleep in his arms.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Something tightened in her chest at the sight of them. “I missed you both so much.”

His gaze softened. “My offer still stands, if you want it. I can teach you how to winnow without you ever having to leave.”

“I know, I just—” she sighed. “I feel like I hardly ever see them anymore—my sisters. We’re all always so busy—it’s nice to see them, to spend some time together. Even if Feyre’s being a pain in my ass.”

Lucien chuckled. “I can only imagine.”

“I’m getting better, I think,” she told him. “I winnowed into Rhys’s office from the hallway. He didn’t expect it, of course, though I admit, seeing him jump up in surprise was—what?” she asked, brows furrowing at the sight of a soft light, glowing gently from Lucien’s face.

“Nothing,” he said, something gleaming in his russet eye. “I’m so proud of you, Elain.”

Elain smiled. “I’m proud of myself, too,” she admitted. “And of you—for being so brave and watching over our daughter all by yourself today.”

Lucien nodded sagely. “It was quite a task, if I do say so myself.”

“Well,” Elain grinned openly now. “There’s enough space for two in that bathtub.”

Those beautiful, shining eyes slowly slid down her body—then, back to the babe, cradled in his arms.

Lucien said, “I’ll be right back.”

For @elainweekofficial

#unedited we die like men #the ducklings in the sink inspired me #thank you for sending in this prompt!!#i hope you like it #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien drabble #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #day court elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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genshin-impact-writings · 3 years ago

Note

A bit specific I hope you don't mind

Could I please request Ayato, Childe, and Zhongli headcanons for comforting their S/O who had a bad day at work, is extremely tired, and anxiety spiking through the roof please?

Thank you, hope this works

-question anon

Thank you for your request, dear! <3 I feel like this was the perfect request to work on right now because I've been really stressed from work recently. In any case, I hope you like what I came up with! Have a good day/night and stay safe. :) I tried a different format for this one btw, I hope that's okay.

Characters: Kamisato Ayato, Childe/Tartaglia, Zhongli

Comforting their s/o after a bad day at work (gn!reader)

Kamisato Ayato

“Darling, I understand how you’re feeling. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Ayato is someone who knows exactly how exhausting and overwhelming work can be sometimes. He’s no stranger to feeling stressed and anxious due to the work piling up on his desk, so it doesn’t take him long to realize what is bothering you when you come back home that day. He can relate to the tired and sad expression on your face, although it really breaks his heart to see you like this.

He immediately drops everything to be there for you, even if it means that most of the paperwork for the day will be left half-done. His work is incredibly important, yes, and he actually can’t afford to slack off but you’re his s/o and your wellbeing will always be his main priority.

Since he knows very well how it is to feel like a failure sometimes, he spends a lot of time reassuring you that you’re enough, that you’re doing incredibly well and that you don’t have to be ashamed for feeling stressed and anxious after a day like this. It’s easier said than done, he’s aware of that, but that obviously doesn’t stop him from trying to cheer you up again.

“My poor darling,” Ayato says softly as he pulls you into his arms. Your quiet sobs, muffled by the fabric of his jacket when you press your face against his shoulder, break his heart, and once again, he wishes he could find the proper words to comfort you. He rests his cheek on top of your head, cradling you in his arms. “Shh,” he whispers. “It’s alright. You’re not alone.”

Childe/Tartaglia

“If there’s anything I can do, please tell me. I’m here for you, buttercup.”

You probably get back home earlier than Childe on most days and usually, you greet him with a smile and a hug as soon as he comes through the door. So, it doesn’t take him long to realize that something is off when there’s no sign of you, and when he finds you curled up on the sofa or in your bed, it’s crystal clear that you’re upset about something.

It’s not hard to put one and one together and figure out that you most likely experienced a rough day at work, especially when you’ve been stressed out anyway recently. It pains him to see you like this because he knows he can’t really help you with these things. However, what he can and will do is to be there for you and listen if you need someone to talk.

Childe also doesn’t mind lying down next to you and holding you in his arms for a while without saying a single world. He just wishes he could make things a bit easier for you and take the burden off your shoulders. If he could, he’d even take some of your work off your hands to give you more time to rest and relax but since that’s not possibly he focuses on comforting you when you experience a bad time at work.

Childe kisses the top of your head as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay,” he whispers reassuringly and wraps his arms around you in an attempt to shield you from the world that has caused you so much stress and anxiety today. “I’m here.” And he means it – no matter what happens, you can always count on him to catch you when you fall.

Zhongli

“You don’t have to talk about it but please know that you are not alone, my love.”

Zhongli is quite an observant man, so there’s really no point in trying to hide your struggles from him. To him, it’s always so obvious when you had a rough time at work, just from seeing the tension in your posture or how your eyes don’t sparkle as they do usually. It hurts him so much to see you like this but at the same time, he feels this somewhat irrational anger that someone (or something) is causing you so much stress.

He wouldn’t ask you directly what’s wrong because he knows from experience that you’ll talk when you feel like it. Instead, he does a number of more subtle things to support you and cheer you up, like preparing your favorite food or offering you a massage because your shoulders are so tense and it surely is quite uncomfortable for you.

He makes it very clear that you can always count on him, no matter what happened. Need some help with your work? He’s there. One of your colleagues has been talking you or your efforts down? He reassures you that you’re doing your best and you shouldn’t listen to them.

“I’m sorry you had a rough day,” Zhongli says, his voice as soft and soothing as always, as he presses his thumb against a particularly tense spot right between your shoulder blades. When you let out a quiet sigh of relief, he leans down and brushes his lips against your neck in a gentle kiss. “You don’t have to go through this alone, my love. I’m by your side."

Thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed it, please consider liking, reblogging and/or leaving some feedback. I'd appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @kaeyas-beloved @genshinparty @the-gayest-sky-kid @ajaxstar

#kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato fluff #childe x reader #childe x you #childe fluff #Zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #Zhongli fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

Text

“hi everyone,” you gave your webcam a half hearted wave, noting the flood of inquisitive comments at your demeanor.

ynismymommy: omg queen r u ok??????

emilia.95: Have you been sleeping?

atsumus-leftballsack: bestie imma need you to invest in some concealer

a giggle pried it’s way up your throat, despite your attempts to stop it as you read the comments. yes, you were fully aware that you looked like shit however, you just weren’t expecting the viewers of your stream to be so... observant.

“holy shit guys, i’m okay,” you attempted to placate your vicious audience by giving them a (forced) smile and a small chuckle. “let’s just play, okay?”

you loaded up your game of choice (call of duty — you had a lot of aggression to work off) while making idle chatter with your fanbase. they seemed to have dropped conversation about your heavy eye bags and low enthusiasm in favor of more lighthearted topics.

just as you were starting to get into it, a knock sounded at your door. at first, you were tempted to ignore it but after a few moments of silence, the knocking started up again, more incessantly. your comments started to go wild, wondering who exactly was banging on your door at like 11p.

bokutos.bahamamommamilkers: tell whoever is @ the door to fuck off

shartyba3_420: damn slam me yn like [redacted] is slamming on that door

Greg_72: Hey, you can go answer that! We’ll wait <3

you apologize quickly before removing your headphones and scurrying over to the door. swinging it wide open, you’re met with bokuto.

and what a sight he is.

once bright, golden eyes were now dull and void, accompanied by dark circles that rivaled your own while his usually sunny visage was dampened by this metaphorical dark cloud that was hanging above him.

in other words, he looked like shit.

the both of you must look like quite a pair — you in your ratty, oversized hoodie and red sweats and him in his white t shirt and flannel pajama pants. after giving him another glance over, you repressed the urge to pull him into your room and into a hug, instead choosing to wrap your arms around yourself tightly.

“um, hey bo,” you started, unable to keep your eyes on his face. “i’m really sorry but i’m streaming right now. maybe we can hang out later?”

bokuto shook his head no, and your heart began to sink. you were just so tired and you didn’t have the energy to entertain or comfort the man at the moment without letting another piece of yourself crumble but you knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

resigning yourself to your fate, you stepped to the side to let him into your room, making a mental note to shield him from your webcam while you brought him to lie on your bed.

to your complete and utter surprise, bokuto did not move, shaking his head no again before moving to grab something just out of your sight behind your doorway.

you were now thoroughly intrigued, shuffling closer to peek into the hallway, only to be stopped by a box being thrusted into your hands. you looked over the colorfully painted cardboard but it gave you no indication as to what was on the inside and glancing at kotarou gave you no help whatsoever.

“what’s this?” you voiced your confusion while weighing the box in your hands, the confusion only amplifying when you discover the box is suspiciously light. you’re shaken from your investigation when bokuto throws another object in your hands, this one significantly heavier.

looking up at him, you’re taken aback by the emotion swirling in his irises, his mouth finally parting to speak. “i’m so sorry,” kotarou’s voice, while gravelly from disuse, was sincere, a slight quiver being found underlying his words. “i- i know i never said it but i just want you to know that i-i care about you and that i am so sorry for ever hurting you and making you feel like you were less than. y-you’ve helped me become myself again a-and i can never thank you enough.”

a shuddering breath left his chest as he trained his eyes on the ceiling before looking back at you with watery eyes. “you don’t have to forgive me. i-i’d understand.” you opened your mouth to respond, to rebut, but you were cut off by his strong arms, wrapping you up in a tight hug.

you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into his hold, a small ounce of stress leaving your body at his words but the bulk of it remaining. he’s just apologizing because you’re the only girl who’s shown him an ounce of kindness, the voice in the back of your head whispered.

as bokuto pulled you in tighter, you stiffened, the voice getting louder and more constant. the man holding you didn’t miss the way you tensed and hesitantly removed himself from you, his hurt written plain all over his face.

kotarou gave you a weak smile and another gentle apology before turning and leaving for his room. you already felt guilt creeping up your spine for not holding him the way you thought you should but you quickly pushed the feeling down, knowing that you wouldn’t have gotten the rest you deserved if you’d done so.

letting out a deep sigh, you shut your door and moved back to continue your stream, not before gently setting down the 2 colorfully decorated boxes on the bed, a small smile creeping across your face at the sight of the gifts.

your stream ended pretty shortly after, your mind unable to focus on the game — it was getting borderline embarrassing how often you were dying to the point you were worried your sponsors would pull out of supporting you.

with a soft smile and goodbye, you collapsed on your bed, mindful not to crush the boxes. while you were extremely exhausted, you knew you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without examining your gifts’ contents.

you decided to open the heavier box first which yielded bag after bag of your favorite chips, candies, and drinks. you knew your mouth was gaping unattractively but you couldn’t help it. this was... way too much.

at the bottom of the box was a small note, written in bokuto’s somehow endearing chicken scratch. it read, “hi yn!!!! this is for when you get hungry :) i know i didn’t let you eat any of my snacks for a long time so i thought it would be nice if i bought some for you!!!!! i hope i got these all right :( i asked atsumu for help!!!”

a choked chuckle escaped your lips and it only amplified as you continued to the end of the note. “p.s. don’t worry about not finishing it all!!! i can always help you ;) p.p.s. also you’re so pretty!!!! don’t not eat it because you don’t think so too <3”

wiping your eyes that had become suspiciously misty, you set down the slip of paper and reached for the second box.

you couldn’t keep the gasp from coming from you as the cardboard overflowed with tiny slips of paper. with shaky hands, you unfolded the first paper, the tears overflowing over your lashline before you could stop them.

you are loved :) - akaashi

“fuck,” you whispered, swiping at your face before clumsily reaching for another, and then another, each note making you cry harder than the last.

you are beautiful!!!!! never change!! - bokuto!!!

you’re really cool - kenma

you are so kind and i owe you the world - sugawara :)

you’re sympathetic, observant, and intelligent. - sakusa.

you are patient (even when we don’t deserve it) - kuroo

yer my angel <3 - tsum tsum

there were a ton more but you promised yourself you’d read them all later, your emotions getting the better of you. you’d rather not wake up with puffy, swollen eyes and a headache so you decided it would be best to close the box and finish it all later.

laying back on your bed, you expelled a deep breath of air, not realizing just how tense you were. you’d been living on edge with the guys for at least a month now and it was really starting to wear on you.

without being able to fully trust them, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you crumbled under the pressure.

you glanced at your phone before sighing again (it really was that kind of day, wasn’t it). maybe it was about time to give dr yamada a long awaited call.

℗ poker face

you are loved :)

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - ooweee first single apology down, 4 more to go!!! also the box of papers came from everyone (obv) but they still gotta give their individual apologies hehe which shall come in the future <33 sorry this took so long KSJD i hope u enjoy!!! don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

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

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

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Shit. What do you do?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink at him, frozen in place.

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

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, nobody at the table moves.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Great. Thanks.

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

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

***

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” you breathe out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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