#but maker I WILL also do that' as he drapes a blanket over them. and maybe strokes their hair. don't look at me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

valhallaas · 2 years ago

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Play to Win

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Ghost is good at the silent game. Even better when you don’t know that you’re playing.

A/N: This is is something new. I just wanted to dabble in it. It leaves you wanting more which is the whole point. As always, feedback is appreciated, and enjoy! Also! Shoutout to @charnelhouse the ghost queen.

He’s been here two weeks and the only reason you know that is by the empty coffee pot that greets you every morning. He truly lives up to his name. Ghost. A name you’ve heard, a reputation that lives beyond him. He may be a ghost, it’s still pretty shitty of him to leave no coffee for you at all. You run a tight ship, have a set schedule. Your routine only differs when someone drops by. Which is rare. Normally it’s just you and the silence. You don’t mind. It is a simple, boring life. But you’d rather be bored than dead.

You’re not lonely. Twice a month you go to town. You get the occasional phone call from Sargent Mactavish (I call you when I can, Val. Y’know how it is) There’s also the farm. Two horses, two cows, one goat and three cats. You’ve got your hands busy.

Feet banging on the mat outside, you can’t help the sigh of irritation that slips. You glare at the snow as it falls. The air was chilly, freezing you down to your bones. It’s a beautiful wonderland until you have to go muck around in it. Finally peeling the boots from your feet you pad your way to the kitchen as the door slammed behind you.

Your fingers twitch. It’s empty. Again. He has to be doing it on purpose. You’d adjusted the settings so there’d be enough for the both of you. You need your coffee. The familiar cup sits beside the coffee maker waiting to be filled. It was 6:20 am and murder was on your mind. You could get away with it. You knew these mountains. Your rifle was a limb forged by war. You’ve never missed a shot. Maybe another day. You’re running on fumes. You blow on your hands, flexing your fingers, you move to the cabinet and grab the coffee container. It’s another twenty minutes and a steaming cup of coffee rests next to you. You’re curled up in the reading nook, fingers gripping the book like your life depends on it. They haven’t quite got any feeling back in them yet. Sometimes you wonder how you ended up here. You hate the fucking cold. Snorting softly, you open your book and get lost in the pages.

There’s a loud bang. Like a distant gunshot. Like a door slamming. Boots pounding against hardwood. The book you had been reading earlier clattered to the floor as you shot up. It’s bright, sunlight glaring off fresh snow; squinting you throw your feet to the floor, hands searching for your gun. What you find is a blanket. The one that normally stays draped over the couch. Frowning, you stare down at the soft material. As your breathing calms and your thoughts become clearer, you relax and slump against the seat. You had fallen asleep. Your dream had shocked you, taken a turn from a memory and made it seem real. It had been at one point, but that was a long time ago. You’re safe now.

The sudden sound of vibrations startle you, causing you to jump. Now more than ever were you glad to be alone. You know how to take care of yourself. You’ve been doing it for a long time. Nobody needed to be questioning that. Standing, you go to the counter where your cell phone sits. An eyebrow ticks at the caller I.D.

“What do you want?”

“Is that how you answer all your calls?”

“I don’t get very many of them. Sorry if my etiquette is lacking. Why are you calling me?”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Your eyes narrow. “Either you know I have a guest, or you think I’ve been compromised. Which, if it’s the latter, I’m deeply offended.”

“Come on, Val. Y’know I have the utmost faith in you. Is he there?”

“Been here two weeks.”

Soap hums. “We haven’t had any contact. But I figured he’d go far to get a break. The farthest safe house is you.”

He wants peace. They normally do when they come out this far. You offer solace.

“Has he spoken to you?”

You snort. “That’s a negative.”

“Are you at least getting along?”

You look behind you at the blanket spilled on the floor. You think about your empty coffee cup. The first day he came to the house comes to mind.

You hadn’t even seen him. Hadn’t noticed one of the coffee cups was missing from the counter. Hadn’t noticed the sugar not right where you had left it. It had been the coffee pot. It was empty. Brows furrowed, your hand hovered over the handle of the pot. There’s a little at the bottom. You knew that you made some. You hadn’t drank it. Right?

Turning to grab your cup, you froze. A squeak lodged into your throat, hand flying to your back where your gun rested. A large man sat at the counter, an almost empty cup rested in front of him. His gaze was lazy as he stared at you. Unaffected. Black smudge was marked around his eyes making the whites stand out. The mask, you knew the mask. Had heard of it hundreds of times. You didn’t have to ask his name. Huffing out a sigh, you relaxed. Hand dropping back to your side. He watched you a moment more before leaning down to pick up his duffle bag and headed down the hall. You didn’t move again until you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

The silence that lingers between the both of you, though, might just kill you. He hasn’t said a word. You haven’t attempted to either. More so out of pettiness.

“Could be better. Could be worse.”

“Valkyrie,”

“He keeps drinking my coffee, Johnny. I don’t know how to function.”

He hummed again. “Expect a care package soon.”

It’s two days later when the helicopter lands in the middle of the open field. You lean in the doorway watching as packages are being tossed out. Who knew you were this special? You perk up when a familiar face starts heading your way. Heart pounding you push from the house and run. Seconds passed and you were pressed into him. Strong arms wrap tightly around you. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip when it begins to wobble. You didn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. He’d just laugh at you. Though, maybe not. It’s been over a year since you’d last seen him. He’d never know, but you locked yourself in your bathroom after he called you and bawled for twenty minutes. Being alone was hard. Being away from those you cared about, those you loved, that was even harder.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Came to see my favorite girl,”

“Gross.” Your nose crinkles.

The small moment is cut short by the flurry coming through the trees. Your breath caught, hand grabbing for your gun. Soap steps in front of you, already armed, gun pointing towards the unknown danger. You sigh when the figure comes barreling out of the brush. The familiar white of his mask is drastic compared to the lush, green backdrop. Shaking your head you turn back to Soap.

“This should be fun.” Leaving the men outside you amble inside, setting up the coffee maker for the company you’d have for the day.

Soap didn’t stay long. He and Ghost brought the packages up to the house, shared a few words, kissed you on the cheek, and he was off. You don’t like the feeling he left behind. Don’t like how your chest tightens, your heart aches. It would never get easier.

You’re surprised to see Ghost sitting at the counter. Arms crossed across his chest, eyes raking over the packages. It’s rare for him to be at the house. He leaves early in the morning and comes back late at night. Circumstances were different today. He probably spotted the chopper and instantly ran. That thought makes you slightly lightheaded. He doesn’t know you—knew absolutely nothing, but he still came for you anyway.

“I’ve never known Soap to make house calls.” He doesn’t sound like you thought he would. His accent lilts his words, his voice rough like it’s been dragged through gravel. It gives you goosebumps.

“Guess I’m just special.”

“You’ve got history.”

Your lips twitch. “I’ve known Johnny a very long time.”

He hums, dark eyes on you. You meet his gaze head on. For as long as he stared, you met the dark abyss of his eyes right back. No twitching, no flinching. You took in what he gave you. Which wasn’t a lot. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing a tattoo sleeve on his left forearm. His hands are bare of the gloves he often wore. They’re large, scarred, veins running through them and up his arms. It’s the most exposed you'd ever seen him.

“Who are you?”

You raise a brow, leaning forward to rest your arms on the counter across from him. “You haven’t found that out already?”

“It’s like you don’t bloody exist.”

“You should know all about that, Ghost.”

His gaze lights up at his name. His call sign. His being. He’s like a black hole. But you know there’s stars, hidden galaxies. Every soldier has their well kept secrets. If he’s going to call you out on yours, might as well call the kettle black.

“Have you fucked him?”

You only snort. “He wishes.”

***

Pop. You sit in the living room, your rifle torn apart. After setting your alarm even earlier last night, you were able to get the chores done, drink your coffee while leaving some for your guest. Pop. There’s no biting back your smirk when you see his muscles twitch. You want to twirl the bubblegum around your finger like some lovesick school girl. It’s the oldest trick in the book, and you couldn’t be more thankful for Soap Mactavish. Looking away because you know he can feel you staring, you go back to cleaning your gun. You were a trained professional at one time. You’d like to keep it that way. It’s one of the reasons you ran the safe house. You didn’t like having to rely on people.

Pop. There were always exceptions, though.

An hour later you’re trekking through the woods. Snow crunches underneath your feet, your breath hot puffs of air clouding in front of your face. The cold air prickled in your lungs with every inhale. You were not made for a place like this. Perhaps California. Mexico maybe. Somewhere you can get a tan. You like solitude, though. You like the silence. Maybe it came from years of doing just this.

The wind was not in your favor. You’ve had to adjust three times. This is the clearest your head has been in weeks. Since that man has come into your house. There's something about him that puts you on edge. It’s more than the mask. You haven’t spent a lot of time with him. You can’t pass judgment. But maybe that’s just it. There was a real live ghost in your presence.

Focus. Breathing in only to cough against the burning cold. You lean forward, eye peering through the scope. You can see your targets. Five of them. Each one ten yards farther away from the last. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Finger on the trigger.

You’ve never missed a shot.

A clean hole through the fifth target and you see movement. Heart rate skyrocketing, you’re not nervous. Whoever it is, they couldn’t know where the shot came from. Instinct is telling you to get up and head home, but you're curious. Who the hell else is out here? Who the hell is insane enough to be out this far in this weather?

He appeared out of thin air. His mask blended in with the snow while his gear isa stark contrast. He favors black, much like you do. With your eye still watching through the scope, you see him check each target. Each hit through the center. Not a hair off. You swallow down the anxiety building in you. Slowly he moved away from the target, his gaze taking in the mountain range.

Your heart falls into your ass when his gaze lands on you. Only for a few seconds, but long enough that you know. You can feel it. He knew exactly where you were. The moment passes, and he’s disappearing back into the woods again.

***

“Valkyrie. You were a sniper in the army.”

Oil popped in the pan as you stood over the stove. You had been so sure he’d meet you back at the house. Seems like he had gone and done a little research. Turning the chicken, you peeked at him. He was in the kitchen with you, his back against the counter. He has the plastic skull piece off. Your breath catches when you meet his gaze. His lashes were so long. His eyes were piercing, yet sad. You don’t think he’s perpetually sad, that it’s only the way he looks. It almost feels like you’re seeing him naked. Tearing your eyes from him you go back to cooking.

“How many?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I didn’t count.” “No?”

“No. It didn’t matter how many, it mattered that I took the shot and it hit.”

“And you never miss.”

He was closer now, breath hitting the back of your neck. Goosebumps break out across your skin.

“No, I never miss.”

He hums before stepping away. Your legs feel like jelly. You never knew a man could do that to you. Flipping the burner off, you ran a hand over your face. It’s been a long day and you were ready for bed.

Later, when you’re getting ready for bed you do the usual lockdown. Blow out any candles, Check that all the doors were locked for the third time. Your eyesight is bleary, eyes begging to close. Socked feet pad as you make your way back to your room. A graveled voice stops you in your tracks.

“When I want something, I never miss either.” Ghost appears in his doorway. “I’d never forget to make more coffee.”

Your lips twitch. It’s been a game, and he was winning.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mwii #cod mw22 #cod fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #cod mw2

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capsironunderoos · 4 years ago

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Nap, Interrupted

Sergeant Hunter x Reader

Summary: Hunter retires to his room for his usual nap, but is surprised to see you already in his bed.

Word Count: 1,595

Warnings: None!

Author’s Note: This definitely takes place in a timeline where they rescue Omega and Crosshair isn’t being used by the Empire. I hope you enjoy!

Here’s a link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

You heard from the doorway of Hunter’s room onboard the Havoc Marauder and you jumped, almost dropping the datapad you held above your head onto your face.

The lights were clicked on without warning, and you flinched again, eyes squeezing shut as you finally dropped the datapad onto the bed beside you. Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a playful groan, draping your arm across your forehead as if you were in distress before letting out another groan.

“You’re getting good at that. Keep it up and you can take it on the road, charge good money for a show.”

You laughed quietly as you moved your arms and opened your eyes, shifting to sit up and against the wall behind Hunter’s bed.

You finally looked over to the doorway, smiling at Hunter as he leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest and dressed in his blacks. It was obvious that he had come to his room to get some much needed rest as the Havoc Marauder travelled through hyperspace, but it was less obvious that he was surprised to find you, not only in his room, but in his bed.

Hunter was good at many things, but hiding his emotions was at the top of that list.

After a brief moment of the two of you staring at each other in silence, he smiled and moved away from the door frame, allowing the door to close with a soft whoosh. He clicked the lights back off as you reached over to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and as you returned to your spot he stopped at the foot of his bed.

“Wrecker was looking for you.” He offered, and you nodded, still not offering an answer to his earlier question.

“Okay kid seriously. What are you doing in here?”

It was an honest question, a good question, with multiple answers that each held their own repercussions.

“Umm…” You started, hands idly lacing and unlacing themselves together in your lap. Hunter smiled and laughed softly as he moved again, this time to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Well, your room is the furthest away from everyone else’s on the ship,” you started, and Hunter nodded, arms crossing over his chest and his eyebrows furrowing.

He looked like he was conducting an investigation into something much more serious than finding you in his bed, with his back straight and arms crossed, mouth set in a serious line.

But maybe finding you in his bed was serious, if the longing glances on missions and soft touches as wounds were cared for were any indication to the answer for his questions.

“I’m aware. S’why I picked it.” He countered, and you nodded.

“And I needed some place quiet to read over the notes for my mission report.” He considered this briefly, and you could see him thinking it over.

“Could have done that in your nook.”

The boys knew how much you coveted quiet time, and had cleaned out a random supply closet for you to use as a work area.

You considered his answer as well before countering with: “Tech was already in it.”

Unfortunately, the boys also sought out any chance for a moment of peace and silence to work, and you were rarely able to actually use the nook they had created for you.

Another beat of silence passed.

“Still not a good answer,” Hunter prodded once more, and you sighed loudly again.

“Oh here we go,” he mumbled, eyes rolling playfully as he uncrossed his arms to lean back on them, still sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Fine, fine. I know this is right around the time you like to take naps on the days we can afford to do so, and I’m sure you’ve noticed but I haven’t been sleeping very well lately. So I was hoping that sleeping with you would solve that problem.” You rushed out the last part of your explanation in a whisper, but Hunter heard it all the same.

“I have noticed. Was actually getting worried about you.” Hunter offered in response to your declaration, and you felt your heart rate pick up.

There was something between you and Hunter, you weren’t blind to it and the effects it had on the both of you, but it was never addressed, left to fleeting glances and lingering touches, and one stolen kiss when you’d challenged Wrecker to a drinking game.

Again, these instances were left untouched, small memories that harbored large pieces of your daily thought process.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt the bed shifting, watching as Hunter moved to sit next to you, grabbing the datapad and placing it on the nightstand beside his bed, turning off the lamp there and enveloping the room in a deep blue darkness, save for the small light emitting from blue stars speeding by outside the window.

He lifted up the covers and slid down onto his pillow, which you were partially resting against. You looked down at him, frozen in place as you waited to follow his lead.

You felt electric having him so close, feeling his arm brushing against your leg as he got comfortable. When he finally stilled, he let out a quick laugh before looking up at you.

“Are you gonna nap or what?” His words jerked you into action, and you were scrambling to get under the covers, as if you were an excited loth cat who couldn’t quite sit still.

“Maker,” Hunter huffed as you finally settled, a face-splitting grin that he couldn’t see resting on your lips. You felt the bed shift once more, and froze completely when you felt his right arm wrap around your waist before pulling you to him. He was warm, and he smelled clean, as if he’d just had his turn in the refresher.

“Is this-”

“Yes,” you cut him off before he could finish the question, and he let out a breath of air that you took as a laugh.

It was your turn to surprise him now, and you turned in his grasp to face his chest before planting a small kiss to the area where his shirt met the skin of his neck.

His breathing faltered for a second, his chest freezing as you moved your head to rest in the crook of his left shoulder.

A moment passed before you felt his warm lips against your forehead. The kiss lingered, and you felt his right arm moving from your waist to grab your chin and tilt it up to look at him.

He kissed your nose this time, a quick peck that made you giggle.

You both spent another moment quietly staring into each other’s eyes, his hand still grasping your chin, your hands enclosed between the two of you, resting against his chest.

You nodded slowly, urging him to do what you both wanted to, what you’d wanted to do since you’d met him, since he’d met you.

His eyes darted to your lips before looking into your own once more, and you let out a small groan as your patience began to wear thin. He smirked and pulled your chin closer to him, his lips meeting yours, finally.

They ghosted over your own, not fully meeting as he peppered feather-light kisses to your lips. An ache settled in your stomach and it took everything in you to restrain yourself from kissing him with everything in you, from straddling him and finally having your way with him.

He continued to press small kisses to your lips as you felt his legs tangle with your own, and just as you were taking matters into your own hands, the door to his room opened with a whoosh, and the two of you froze. Hunter slowly pulled the blankets up, trying unsuccessfully to hide you from the intruder.

“Hunter! I’ve been looking for- oh. Nevermind.” Omega stood in the doorway now, adorned in one of Wrecker’s shirts, which stopped at her ankles.

“For me?” You called, and she nodded, her cheeks turning a sweet shade of red. You laughed quietly and beckoned for her to enter.

“I won’t tell anyone okay? I mean, it’s pretty obvious how you two feel about each other anyways, but I won’t tell the others.” She started to ramble and you and Hunter shared a warm look of fondness before you sat up, opening your arms in her direction.

She stopped as she saw the movement, analyzing the gesture.

“C’mon kiddo, offers not gonna last forever,” you teased, and she didn’t hesitate to crawl onto the bed and into your arms.

She was attached to each of the boys in her own way, but when it came to you, she was always by your side, never far from you, never long without you. You had teased her one time, calling her your shadow for an entire day.

You slid back under the covers with her in your arms as she wrapped her own around your torso, her head coming to rest on your chest.

When you had settled and stilled, Hunter caught your eye and you both shared a small smile before he was moving too, wrapping his arms around the both of you and pulling you into him. Your legs tangled with his, and you sighed as an overwhelming feeling of contentment washed over you.

Silence filled the room before Hunter spoke in a whisper: “No one mention this to Cross.”

#hunter x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #omega #star wars x reader #star wars #em writes

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kuroos-babie · 4 years ago

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falling in love with a single mom hcs

INCLUDES: nishinoya, tsukishima, yaku

you spent a good part of your childhood with nishinoya, chasing away the dogs that had a penchant of scaring your best friend shitless, climbing trees and playing treasure hunt

it was funny, to say the least, seeing how he grew from such a scaredy-cat to the energetic and confident noya everyone knows

throughout highschool you watched him chase girl after girl and he watched you turn down guy after guy

the dynamic you two had was that of a feral gremlin child and its chill owner holding the leash and everyone, including you two, thought you would always be together

everyday was fun with nishinoya's energy hanging around you, no doubt

but when he asked you to travel the world with him right after graduation, he was met with a hesitant refusal

"i'm planning to go to college, yuu"

"it'll be fun, y/n! like going on an adventure!!"

"visit me once in a while"

his heart clenched at the way you smiled at him with teary eyes, "i can't change your mind can i?"

with a soft shake of your head, he sighed

he leaves in three days

the first few months of him being away were filled with calls and pictures of his trips, smile seemingly wider and brighter than before and a part of you regretted not coming with him

but college starts in a week, and with that came missed calls and ignored messages

at some point, neither of you just remembered to hit the other up, caught up with the stresses of your own life and before either of you knew it, 5 years have passed

he came to visit home for the first time in years, no longer the boyish noya you knew but he still had that warm aura around him

you were the first thought to come to mind the moment he step foot in town, his whole body buzzing with excitement at the mere thought of seeing you again

so of course he went straight to your house, feet taking step after memorized step and hands clutching bags of things he got from his travels

"Y/N!!!!!", he calls out as he enters your house which was answered with a harsh shushing

turning a corner he saw you in the living room, lovely as ever-- he thought, and with a baby sleeping soundly in your arms, "the baby's sleeping, yuu"

"whose...?"

you laughed at the cracking in his voice, "mine, who else's?"

man, he looked like he was about to cry

he quietly approached you, careful as to not wake the baby

"for you", he mumbled while handing you the bag of snacks and stuff

the room was filled with silence after you hummed a short thanks

he was looking at the child's face, it looked like you, he thinks

he asked when you got married, "you didn't tell me, didn't even invite your best friend to your wedding", he whined

"i didn't, i'm not married"

his eyes were wide as they looked at you

you told him about getting pregnant shortly after college graduation and getting ditched

he thought of himself selfish as he heaved a sigh of relief

"it's fine though, my parents are helping me a lot", he notes how you looked at your baby with such fond eyes and his heart swelled, he felt like crying

you chuckled at the look on his face, "hey don't look so sorry for me, can't be happier to have her"

"what's her name?"

you looked at your daughter's face and pet at her cheek with a finger, "yui"

nishinoya couldn't hold it in anymore and so he let himself cry and pulled you close

and for the nth time since the day of your college graduation he asked you again, "come with me, y/n, let's travel the world" but you have a child "i'll stay with you here until she's old enough", he said while kissing the tears that slipped down your cheeks

"then we can all go travel the world together"

he liked working at the museum, he really does

at least that's what he tries to tell himself as he led the group of preschoolers through the sendai museum

they were cute, yeah, but also very chatty

especially this one little boy with the frog hat

"what's this called?"

"it's a fossilized remain of--"

"how about this one?"

"it's--", and before he could answer, the child was already running to the other side of the exhibit

he just sighs

the tour ended and he was getting ready for his lunch break, proceeding to the cafe by the entrance as he always does

his eyes almost caught the flurry of green that passed beside him but he chose to ignore it

but of course it wasn't long after he sat down with his order when he heard a familiar bubbly voice

"mama that's the dinosaur guy!", he heard the little boy whisper loudly, "he's so tall, like a brachiosaurus!"

he couldn't supress the chuckle at the child's remark and he turned in his seat, "so you were listening, i thought you were just bouncing all around the place"

"oh sorry, did he give you a hard time?"

your voice drew his attention and he smiled at the sight of your worried face, something that surprised even him, "not really, no"

he invited you two to sit and eat with him and he listened to your son ramble all about dinosaurs and prehistoric animals

"a smart one, i like him"

your son really liked him too and asked you to take him to the museum again and see tsukishima

and so it became a habit for you to visit the museum every friday with the little boy, waiting for the tall blonde to get off work so you three could grab something to eat

and every time he sees you in the little cafe by the entrancne with your son, tsukishima couldn't help but smile a little and pat at his chest to calm the subtle fluttering as he push the door open

it was a weird feeling he never knew would come so naturally at the mere sight of you two

he bought your son picture books and and figurines and copies of the "walking with dinosaurs" documentary

"we should watch it this weekend..." his eyebrows shot up for a moment at your meek suggestion

of course the little boy was elated, excited to have him over at your house "yes! let's go now! i wanna watch it with tsukki now!!!"

tsukishima returned his gaze on you, "if it's not too much trouble then i'd love to go now"

and so the rest of the friday night was spent on your couch with all the lights turned off and a narration of al the allosaurus' life

you looked over at the other side of the couch to see your son laying on tsukishima, eyes fluttering shut with the man passed out and lightly snoring

he must've been tired

you draped a blanket over the two of them and waited for sleep to visit you too and it soon did

morning came and you woke up to the smell of coffee

"i borrowed your coffee maker, i hope you don't mind", his voice was still low, trying not to wake the little boy

"yeah, sorry i didn't wake you up last night... you looked tired"

he chuckled as you walked over to the kitchen to take out two mugs and prepared some toast, "i don't mind, it was the best sleep i've gotten in a while. i hope it wasn't too much of a bother for you though"

you leaned on the kitchen counter as you took in his appearance; hair ruffled and eyes puffy with sleep, "i don't mind it one bit"

he huffed a laugh and looked over to the sofa where your son still laid

"he likes you a lot"

"so it seems, i hope you do too", his face was smug but you didn't miss the red that tinted his cheeks when you told him "of course i do, in fact i was thinking maybe we should do this more often"

his smirk grew, "just say you want to wake up everyday to the sight of me and leave it at that"

you rolled your eyes at his comment but smiled nonetheless, "oh shut up"

he had just come back from the nekoma volleyball team reunion, head lightly buzzing from the few bottles of alcohol kuroo forced down his throat

making his way through the carpeted hotel hall, he could barely make out the sound of little feet hurriedly padding on the floor and quiet sniffles

taking out the keycard to his room with the blissful thoughts of finally sinking into the soft mattress was interrupted by a soft bump on his thigh, a muffled thud and a small "ow..."

it took a few moments before the sight of the little boy on the hotel floor registered properly in his brain

it was well past 2 am... why the hell is there a child running around the halls

"uh... hi?"

big bright eyes looked up at him and he can't help but sigh at the sniffles increasingly growing louder

"where's your mama, little guy?", yaku crouched to the little boy's level, careful to keep his balance as the booze and exhaustion was catching up to him

however, at the mention of his mother, the little boy's eye filled up with more tears and was ready to burst anytime, "mama..."

"oh no no no no"

yaku's too tired for this

so with a sigh and a groan, he took the boy in his arms and entered his room

"let's look for her in the morning, okay? i think i still have some cookies in my room, would like some?"

the little boy nods his head, earning a relieved sigh from yaku

the rest of the night was spent with cartoons playing on the large hotel room tv, yaku leaning against the headboard with the little boy snoozing away while being tucked in his arm, cookie on his hand and crumbs all around

morning came and panic surged through your body the moment you realized your 3 year-old son was nowhere inside your hotel room

your hurried to the security desk to report and hopefully make an announcement, head reeling and aching with the sudden rush of adrenaline first thing in the morning

with your head in your hands, you let out a groan while trying not to cry at all the possibilites flashing through your mind

your wallowing was cut short with an "excuse me, i found this child last night"

turning your head back to the security desk, you see a man in his pajamas and slippers, hair ruffled from sleep and a sleepy little boy laying on his shoulder

"oh my god"

the whole conlict ended when you came up to them and introduced yourself, the little boy quickly recognizing your voice and whipped his head over to you, "mama!"

your son reached out for you and yaku couldn't help but notice how pretty your glossy eyes were despite how disheveled you looked

"mama, yakkun gave me cookies and we watched cartoons aaaaall night!"

yaku's eyes widened at the little boy's words and let out a nervous chuckle, "you make me sound so suspicious"

he turned to you and explained how your son bumped into him at 2 am and he was just too tired to bring him down to the security desk

"my tired tipsy brain thought it was a better idea to just let him sleep in my room and look for mama in the morning", he ended with the tips of his ears tinged red

you laughed at his nervousness, "well we can talk more about it over breakfast, what do you say yakkun? my treat"

with the way you were smiling at him, how could he even refuse?

the rest of the morning was spent with coffee and waffles, juice and fruits and chatter

he learned you and your son were in town for a few days, "i wanted to go see the fishies in the aquarium!", the little boy quips

with the new volleyball season just around the corner, yaku knew he'd have practices but he offered to tour you two around tokyo

he wanted to see you two again

briefly taking care of the toddler last night and having breakfast with you, he realized, were very much a welcomed change of pace in his hectic pro volleyball life

"are you my dad? mama told me daddy was working in tokyo" he remembered your son quietly mumbling last night, "i haven't seen him though, not ever"

the rest of your stay in tokyo was spent hanging out with yaku, your son growing more and more attached to him and slept over at his room every night

as promised, he took you and your son on a tokyo tour and even brought you to practice, introducing you to the national team and teaching your child receives

of course your trip eventually reached its end, promises of meeting again drowned in the little boy's tears as he tried to reach out to yaku

"we'll meet again, little guy", he says while ruffling the boy's hair, "i'll even go visit you and we'll play lots, okay?

of course he made a point of contacting you frequently, often video chatting during meal times and bedtime and a few more hours after, relishing in the time he could spend talking alone with you

"i can't wait to see you two again", he always says right after "good night"

taglist: @churochuu @bakarinnie @faithieeee @strawberriimilkshake @paulazockt @pattys-got-cakes @hidden-otaku-stuff @haikyuubabie @sachirou-senpai @your-local-abyss @stcrryskies @toosaltyforacookie @mrs-kuroojinguji @shawkneecaps @miyastrology @galacticstxrdust @wakaushi @boosyboo9206 @sugawara-sweetheart @threeconsecutivefs @chichibia @diyosku @curiouslilbeast @cowbeboppy @tsukkaria @yyvveess @kirakirasaku

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nirikeehan · 2 years ago

Note

For the DADWC: Friolero (Spanish): Somebody who is very sensitive to the cold, a character study for the character of your choice!

Thank you for this prompt! I immediately thought of Dorian, and decided to combine this prompt with one from @fatale-distraction, who simply asked for some Thalia & Dorian fake dating shenanigans. Hope you enjoy!

For @dadrunkwriting

Word Count: 969

---

Outside the leaded glass windows, the snow fell in torrents of icy pinpricks. Thalia had never seen snow like it: so unlike the early-spring squalls of Haven, in which thick snowflakes floated lazily on the air like pollen. It was already a foot deep on the ground, the roads up into the frigid mountain pass barely dug out, causing treacherous conditions for their mounts. Approaching midday, a new storm had blown up, and continued unabated ever since.

Thalia pulled her shawl closer around her and thanked the Maker for the stone keep that had emerged from the white-tipped pines. Their horses had a stable, and she and Dorian had a shelter, curious as it was. She had ducked into a nook near the common room’s fireplace, been offered a blanket and a steaming cup of tea by a servant, and spread out their research documents while Dorian negotiated with the proprietor.

Thalia sat up on the sofa, stretching stiff arms surreptitiously over her head. Her prosthetic chafed and bruised more often than not. She often wished she didn’t have to wear it at all, but news had spread like wildfire throughout Thedas that the Inquisitor had lost her arm at the Exalted Council. Without a prosthetic, traveling incognito through the realm would be all but impossible. Thankfully, the other guests had excused themselves some time ago, and no one would notice the limbs under her shawl did not match in length.

Just as Thalia debated reattaching her false arm and seeking out Dorian, her companion strolled into the room wearing a disgusted expression and several layers of the thickest traveling furs she had ever seen.

“What’s this?” she teased as he draped himself over the sofa opposite her. “Is there some sort of masquerade ball tonight, and you’re going as a bear?”

“Oh, you are exquisitely funny, my dear,” Dorian retorted sourly. “Return to Emprise du Lion, Dorian, she said. It will be fun this time, she said. I’ll have you know, if the Fade were ever to freeze over, I’ve already felt its icy depths on mine fairest cheeks.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad,” Thalia said, stifling a giggle.

Dorian sat up, so that he might inch himself closer to the fire. “Well, the blizzard is due to last days, according to the gracious Comte LaPubelle. But we are welcome to stay here and wait out the storm — as long as we pay a hefty premium, of course. As we do not have reservations.”

“Reservations?” Thalia blinked. “You mean this isn’t his home, but rather some sort of, what, sanatorium?”

“The term he used was ‘ski resort.’ Apparently, it’s the latest Orlesian fad to trek into the mountains to experience snow by strapping boards to your feet and going out in it — on purpose!”

“Oh,” Thalia said, perplexed. “So the other people we saw before…?”

“Are lunatics for doing this in their leisure time? Oh, yes. They are also paying guests, and quite nosy. As I was waiting to speak to the Comte, one young lady was eager to learn why we were here.”

Thalia’s eyes dropped to the table between them, strewn with their collected tomes, scrolls and notes — a constellation of clues they hoped would lead them to a forgotten temple at the mountain’s summit. She bit her lip. “What did you tell her?”

Dorian shot her a devilish grin. “Oh, just that we were travelers out looking for adventure… to celebrate our recent wedding.”

Thalia’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I certainly did. That set her all a-titter, and then the good Comte emerged, and I was able to convince him to rent us the honeymoon suite. Water from some underground hot spring is pumped right into the privy, I hear. I intend to soak in a tub of it directly after dinner.”

“Dorian,” Thalia said carefully, “one of these days I worry this ruse is going to go too far.”

“Why? They’ve taken our coin; the rest is of no consequence to them. It’s not like they’ll be standing outside the door and listening to determine if we’ve consummated our vows.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, it’s excellent cover. Once the storm subsides, these eager ‘skiiers’ will want to go out onto the wilderness, yes? They even have a guide that leads them along the mountain trails. What better opportunity is there than for us to get to where we need to go?”

Thalia furrowed her brow. “That would work, but only up to a point. Then what? We get conveniently ‘lost’ from the group and are— presumed dead?”

“Goodness, let’s hope not. Only if we don’t come back alive, I suppose.” Dorian’s tone was light, but his words reminded her that the charming accommodations aside, there was no guarantee the temple would be where they thought it was, nor that it would be safe to traverse if it was. “No, we can guiltily tell them we stopped for amorous relations to warm ourselves up, or some such. Idiotic nobles can get away with almost anything, you know that as well as I.”

“True enough.” The plan might be slightly harebrained, but it was probably the best option they had. Thalia paused, watching the fire as it leapt and crackled. “Can’t wait to see you tie one of these planks to your feet and go falling face-first into the snow, though.”

Dorian let out a barking laugh. “Oh, do not get too smug, my dear. The honeymoon suite has only the one bed, and I’m not gentleman enough to offer to take the floor.”

Thalia snorted. “I’m sure there’ll be enough room for both of us. Maybe this time I’ll even let you be the big spoon.”

“Not on your life.”

Outside the window, the snow continued to fall.

#thalia trevelyan #dorian pavus #thalia & dorian fake dating shenanigans #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

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fromthedeskoftheraven · 4 years ago

Text

Always kiss me goodnight

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Content: Pining, kissing, mention of food, oh no there’s only one bed, helmetless Din (but it’s dark), baby Yoda is an adorable tiny terror

Word count: ~2200

Note: I swear I was only going to write one Pedro character fic. Has this kind of thing been done a million times? Yes. Am I doing it once more? Also yes. It’s self-indulgent hours and this little love letter to our favorite space dad and his green baby has been nagging at my mind since I first watched the show.

Tagging the people who asked (If anyone wants to be tagged or un-tagged in any future fics since it seems I’m well and truly back on my bs just say the word): @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @beccaplaying

———————————————

Fatigue has caught up with the little green child now that his belly is full, and crankiness along with it. The Mandalorian has been known to lovingly call his adopted son a womp rat, but when the baby gets overtired, a rancor is more like it.

This time, you can hardly blame him. The three of you have spent the better part of the day traveling, finally landing on this backwater planet late in the evening. With some searching and a small fortune in credits, Din managed to find a safe, out-of-the-way place to stay, leaving you and the child to eat and settle in while he went to scout the bounty’s location for the next day’s work.

As the child’s fussing gains momentum, you hustle to the small sink in the corner of the room.

“We’ll wash your face and go straight to bed,” you promise him, letting the water warm before wetting a cloth and wringing it out thoroughly.

In the mirror, your own face looks as exhausted as he obviously feels. The bed in question is little more than a pallet with a mattress and some blankets, but it might as well be a royal welcome at this stage of the game.

Despite your gentleness, the baby erupts in an indignant whine as you wipe the cloth over his face and ears. “I know, little love,” you soothe while he struggles in protest. “Almost done.”

He quiets when you scoop him up into your arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy head. You hum bits of a song from your childhood, rocking him from side to side, and his little face crumples with a yawn. His tiny fingers curl into the fabric of your tunic and his head goes heavy on your shoulder, but still he fidgets, making pathetic little sounds in the direction of the door.

“I know,” you murmur again, still swaying on the spot. “He’ll be back soon.”

You’ve grown to love the child and you know he’s fond of you, but as far as he’s concerned Din is the one who hangs the stars in the sky. He’s always a little agitated when his father is out of sight, and truth be told, so are you.

“I know what we can do,” you say. “Let’s make a plate for your buir for when he comes back. Don’t you think that’ll be nice for him?”

Neither you nor Din are sure how much the child actually understands, but you don’t let it stop you talking to him. If nothing else it makes you feel a little less alone in the long hours when Din is hunting his quarries.

His drooping ears twitch upward with this suggestion. He watches with interest as you lay a plate with some of the fresh fruit, bread, and stewed meat Din bought from the innkeeper for your supper.

“There we go. Now then, bedtime for little ones.”

You turn to survey the sleeping area with a stab of nerves. The minuscule size of the room isn’t a challenge -- the Razor Crest has made you an expert in living in small spaces -- but the lone bed is a wrinkle you hadn’t expected.

Din, ever pragmatic, had been quick to point out that it was plenty big enough for the three of you, and it was only one night. He was right, of course.

Still, you’d never been so grateful for dim lighting, sure that your secret longing for the Mandalorian was written plainly on your flustered face.

You couldn’t have said exactly when your feelings for Din Djarin had strayed into dangerous territory. Somewhere in the months of traveling with him, caring for his child, helping maintain his ship, reminding him to eat, and tending the worst of his wounds your initial wariness turned to admiration, admiration to fondness, and fondness to something alarmingly like love.

It’s a fool’s errand.

For all his kindness to you Din is an island of a man, set apart from the world in his shell of beskar and the even more unyielding armor of his creed. Even if his heart is big enough to encompass the child, you don’t dare to hope there’s room for you too.

And now this bed -- this one kriffing bed -- sits there mocking you and all your silly fantasies of you and Din and the child being a real family, bound together by love instead of convenience.

You turn off the light overhead, leaving only the small, sickly lamp at the table to light Din’s way to his supper.

The mattress is clean and the blankets are a bit threadbare but soft, and the baby only has the energy to grumble a little when you lay him down on the side closest to the wall and tuck the thickest of them around him. Yawning widely, he stretches out a hand toward you, fingers grabbing at the air.

The gesture warms your weary heart.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lie down beside him and face away from the table, mindful that Din will need privacy to eat. The little body shuffles closer to you, curling into your shoulder, and a surge of fierce affection pricks your eyes with tears. You wrap your arm around the baby to hold him close as the full brunt of the long day overtakes you.

“Good night, little love,” you say around a yawn, just as your eyes fall closed.

***

You wake with a start. The windowless room is pitch black, and in the absence of any landmarks your brain races to orient itself.

At your back, the child’s soft, snuffling breaths. A well-worn blanket draped over you and a slightly lumpy mattress beneath.

The inn, you remember in a flash.

At your front...something warm and broad and solid. You’ve nestled into it in your sleep, one arm thrown over it, your hand grasping soft fabric. A familiar, comforting scent surrounds you, a scent you cherish from laundry days and the cramped quarters of a small ship.

Oh, Maker.

You clearly slept through Din coming back and getting into bed, and now you’re wrapped around him like a second set of clothes. The rush of blood into your cheeks flames so hot you worry he must feel it through the base layers he’s wearing to sleep.

Shrinking into yourself, you begin to pull away, as stealthily as you can. If you can just get back to your own side of the bed and brazen it out in the morning, maybe he’ll never be the wiser.

Slowly, so slowly, you release the handful of his shirt you’re holding and move your arm from where it’s resting across his chest...

In the darkness, a hand encircles your wrist.

Oh, Maker.

You’ve watched Din wrestle enough uncooperative bounties into the carbonite chamber to know you’re not getting away from him if he doesn’t want you to. But his grip on your wrist is light, gentle. His thumb rests on the place where your pulse is fluttering like a trapped bird, whether from embarrassment or his closeness you’re not entirely sure.

“Din.” It comes out barely a whisper, sabotaged by the sudden dryness of your mouth. You swallow hard and try again. “Din, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s all right.”

His voice is a revelation. Free of the modulator’s rasp, it’s warmer, richer, somehow softer and more resonant at the same time. You’ve never even been in the same room with him when he has his helmet off, and the realization that he’s right there, a breath away, is dizzying.

Silence stretches before he speaks again, more quietly. “It’s...nice.”

Your brain fails you entirely. “Oh.”

You search desperately for something more intelligent to say, but his thumb is drawing feather-light circles over the soft skin of your wrist and your pulse is thundering in your ears. Those touches, so delicate from a man so strong, blur your thoughts like liquor and drag a confession from your lips before you can bite it back. “I’ve always wanted to hold you.”

You wait, blessing the darkness that swallows your shame, and hope he’s not going to tell you to pack your things and find a job in this bleak little skug hole for when he leaves you behind.

Instead, you feel the mattress shift and know he’s turned toward you.

The sudden fear of breaking Din’s creed is overwhelming, even in the dark. Instinct has you squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that white specks float behind your eyelids.

“I can’t see you,” you say quickly. “I promise.”

“I know.”

His thumb moves from your wrist across your palm, uncurling your fingers to map each one in turn, trailing up to the tips and back down again. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone’s bare skin.

He sighs, which is nothing new, but this one doesn’t sound exasperated. It sounds almost...content. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs. “Beautiful girl. I thought so the first time I saw you.”

You’re overcome with a wild, childish urge to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

His praise gives you a rush of courage to ask for something you’ve only dreamed of. “Din...can I touch you? Is it allowed?”

His only answer is to cradle your hand in his, bringing it to rest on his cheek.

Stubble prickles your palm as your fingers slowly trace his scruffy jawline and the thick column of his neck, savoring the feel of him. His hair is soft, long enough to curl at its nape, and when you comb your fingers through the tousled strands he makes a low, strangled sound in the back of his throat. It reverberates through your body like a bell, making your head swim with the thrill of affecting him.

You only just resist the urge to suck a mark into the spot where his pulse races under his warm skin.

Your greedy hands move on to discover a strong brow and the curved bridge of a prominent nose. A mustache frames lips that are more plush than you imagined, a note of sensuality in an angular, warrior’s face.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are?” you ask, fingertips traveling over his cheekbone.

“Brown.”

Brown. You see them in your mind’s eye, soft and dark, expressing all the things he doesn’t say out loud. Stroking his lower lip, you repeat his own word back to him: “Mesh’la.”

Din’s mouth twitches under your fingers. “You can’t see me.”

He has no idea. His body warming yours and the sweetness of his voice calling you beautiful is everything you’ve ever wanted and thought yourself unworthy of having, and he thinks you’re only talking about his face.

You cup his cheek, smile at him, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t need to, Din. I just know it. I always have.”

“You’re so good to me.” His hand catches yours in his large one, his voice rough with some nameless emotion. “To me, and the baby. All the time.”

“You deserve everything good,” you whisper past the lump in your throat.

He’s caressing your hand again, holding it in place to press his lips to the pad of your thumb. “I want to kiss you, cyare.”

Your exhale is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please.”

His hand moves to cradle your head as he closes the distance between you. If you were expecting him to pounce, you’re completely unprepared for him to linger, breath hovering over your lips for a long, agonizing moment as he brushes his nose over yours.

You’re almost startled by the first touch of his lips, a little chapped but warm and lush. His mustache is softer than you thought it would be, and so are his kisses, a series of slow, gentle presses of his mouth. Like he wants to do with his lips what you’ve done with your hands, sketching and learning.

It’s only when you slide your hand into his hair again that something inside him breaks. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you to the refuge of his broad chest as he slants his mouth over yours, claiming you in earnest. He’s possessive and tender in equal measure and the tease of his tongue against yours, his teeth nipping your lower lip, the span of his hand on your back has you drunk on him and whispering his name between kisses like a prayer.

...Apparently not quietly enough.

A little hand scrabbling at your shoulder blade brings you out of your haze. As you pull away from Din the baby is climbing over you as quickly as his short limbs will let him. He wedges himself between the two of you with a delighted coo at Din, hands flailing to find his father’s face.

Din heaves a sigh, but there’s no malice in it. “I’m here, ad’ika,” he says, with unmistakable fondness. “We’re all here.”

You can’t stifle a breathless laugh as the baby snuggles into Din’s arms, making himself comfortable for the night.

Your Mandalorian surrenders good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around you with the child tucked safely in the middle. He presses a kiss to your forehead before settling on the pillow beside you. “Sleep, cyare.”

Drowsiness is already fuzzing the edges of your mind again, but it catches on the word he’s said twice now. “What does that mean?” you murmur. “Cyare?”

You feel him smile against your temple, one last brush of his lips. “Share my bunk tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 2: That’s Not Exactly Folgers In Your Cup

Warnings: Smut (Oral) and Bad Language Words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N- Hello! I hope y’all are as excited about this holiday special collaboration made with @what-is-your-plan-today and @jennmurawski13 as I am. It all blossomed from early morning (for me) ramblings and we decided to do it. 2020 has been a hell of a year and we all needed a little something to smile about. And come on, whats funnier then imagining Ransom Drysdale trying to be domestic? Plus it gives some feels. There will be smut written in occasionally, so please heed the warnings to each individual fic.

Also, we are alternating, but will reblog on our accounts, if you don’t want to miss any, send a message and we will get you added to the tag list. Happy Reading.

Series Masterlist

Ransom woke before you, the early morning light streaming through the window cut right across his face and he swore into the pillow while rolling to his back to sling his arm over his eyes to cut off the annoyance. He was almost there, back in that blissful state of unconsciousness when his body took over and insisted he get up. Any further attempt to return to sleep was now disrupted when natural morning urges overtook him and he sighed while lifting his arm to let the light return, blinking rapidly to adjust to the the most inconvenient thing to plague him at this hour.

Next to him you were still asleep, soundly, peacefully which made him scowl at you for being so blissfully unconscious. He envied you in this moment as he rolled up from bed and trudged into the bathroom to take care of himself. Afterwards once he came back out, he grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and slipped them on. You would be waking up soon, and there was one thing you always wanted before anything else, even before you were pregnant, it was a must have or else. Now you valued this all that much more since his child seemed to just suck all the energy from you, savored it more then he savored his biscoff cookies.

Your coffee. And hell be damned if you didn't get your coffee.

Now typically you make it, liking a certain amount of scoops to get you through the morning, touch of cream and a little sprinkle of sugar just to take the bite out of it. Ransom has seen you make it countless times in the morning, your over sized tee hanging around your thighs and hair piled atop your head. Your eyes would be closed while you measured, you just knew it down to the action how you wanted it. He never tried to mess with your perfection. In fact he learned early on to stay out of your way the first twenty minutes in the morning unless he was taking care of you between the sheets. That was the only equivalent you were accepting of in the morning.

This morning Ransom felt a twinge of affection now that he was awake, seeing you shift into the middle of the bed and pull his pillow into your chest like you were hugging it. Gently he leaned over and brushed the flyaway hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss there before leaving the bedroom to head downstairs.

Typically you just made Ransom a coffee too, it became almost a habit for him to want it, although he didn't need it, not like you did. But yea, he craved it and decided that this morning, since he was already up, he would just do it himself. Regardless of the fact that you had forbidden him to touch the coffee maker for some reason. Which fuck it was in his kitchen, if he wanted to use it he was going to.

“Can't be that hard, dump some grounds in, put in the fucking water.” He flipped off the top of the coffee maker to see if you pre-filled it the night before, sometimes you did. Last night was not the case though. Reached into the cupboard for the precious Starbucks coffee and opened the bag to breathe in the strong coffee bean aroma. Okay, he had to admit it was a pleasant smell, and already he could feel himself feel a bit more upbeat. He ended up setting it aside and searched everywhere for the measuring spoon, leaving a slight kitchen destruction in his path of open drawers and stuff piled on top of the kitchen counter, he just eyeballed dumping the coffee in. Completely forgetting the filter in the process.

Impatiently he waited, fingers tapping on the counter as the drip drip drip started. “It would be faster just to have someone deliver.” He muttered to himself, contemplating how much you would protest possibly hiring a housekeeper. Fran was decent… enough. He thought to himself. Aside from her being the most annoying woman his grandfather had hired. Of course she could be useful when the occasion called for it. Like now, how fucking easy would it be if someone was just delivering you two the coffee in bed.

Already he knew you probably weren't going to go for it, it was fine for Harlan according to you because he needed the help. In fact when he brought it up, your eyes rolled and you scoffed at him. “You are kidding right Ransom? You are a grown ass man, do it yourself.”

When the coffee maker finally gave the last spurt, and sounded exhausted, Ransom shook his head from the memory and turned to pull down two mugs and proceeded to pour into each. It was black, blacker than usual. He sniffed it, and needless to say it was STRONG.

Ransom just kept going, grabbing your half and half, as well as the small bit of sugar you like, he stirred it all together and brought it back up the stairs.

You were just waking up when he reentered the bedroom. Your arms lifting up to hit lightly against the headboard and your wiggling fingers while giving a yawn, you inhaled the strong scent of coffee and immediately pushed to sit.

“What is that? Is that what I think it is?” Your eyes widened as Ransom set the mug down on your nightstand with a roll of his eyes.

“Well good morning to you to Princess.” he stated as you grinned at him, reaching over for the mug while he sat on the end of the bed. You didn't dare take a sniff as if to check, not with the way Ransom was watching you intently and you just took a sip.

It hit your mouth with a ferocity that brought tears to brim to your eyes, and your taste buds screamed in protest at the gritty black death you were forcing yourself to swallow, doing everything you could to keep from spitting it out. You were just thankful that this morning you were dealing with morning sickness, yet. Somehow you forced the bitter liquid down your throat and tried to keep a straight face, as you were touched with Ransom’s act of kindness, something he was still working on. But there was no hiding your expression, as hard as you tried to keep it from Ransom.

His head dropped when he saw your face. “Fucking terrible isn’t it? See this is why you should let me hire a housekeeper.”

“Ransom, it tastes just fine. And we don’t need a housekeeper. This house isn't all that big.” You rolled your eyes as you showed him you were right by taking another sip of his coffee, forcing a smile on your face.

“I always had a housekeeper, and I turned out fine.” Ransom rebutted while moving to a stand. “Put that cup down. You can make some later.” He instructed and you were quick to set it aside, relieved not to have to pretend anymore. Ransom yanked the blankets away, making you tumble a bit in bed with a yelp.

“Ransom! What are you doing?” You looked down at him as he grasped your ankles, sliding you down the bed while he moved to kneel at the end of the bed, smirking at you.

“Cant make coffee worth shit. But I can do this, and I know you like this just as much.”

He was right, the man had a mouth on him that you had a hard time resisting, even when he was pissing you off.

Fingers delved under the band of your sleep shorts and slipped them off before draping your legs over his shoulders and pressing hungry kisses along the inside of your thigh. “Okay, you have me there, maybe I do. I'm a little scared to see what you did down in the kitchen now.”

“Nothing that can't be cleaned up.” He looked up at you, and you opened your mouth to say something about how you were going to have to clean it when he let his mouth press against your cunt and his tongue bury between the folds.

That effectively distracted you, making your words stutter from the tip of your tongue into a moan while he lapped at you, shifting between quick flicks to flattening his tongue and dragging through your folds to suck at that bundle of nerves that made you gasp his name in a needy way. Your hands shoot down to twist into his hair, holding onto his scalp while he takes you apart with his mouth. Toes curled into his upper back when he teased you further, your hips starting to rock to meet the darts of his tongue in your clenching channel. You let yourself fall back into the pillows and quit trying to reason with him or make him feel better. You just let yourself experience this new attempt at treating you.

“Please Ransom, I want to come now.” You whined out while his fingers flexed on your hips, keeping you mostly pinned in place although your body was rippling to arch and grind into him. Your heels firmly pressing into his back in an attempt to lever yourself although he was firm in his hold. Unwilling to let you move just yet. Ransom sucked folds of flesh into his mouth, the lower part of his face slick when he lifted to smirk at you, and shifted a heavy forearm across your hips, careful not to press against your stomach.

“How badly do you want to come, Princess?” He licked at his lips, brighter pink with use then normal and you glared at him down your body.

“Considering I am growing you spawn in me, you think you would treat me better.” Trying your hand at using guilt to get him into giving you your orgasm, he let his fingers stretch your open, pressing into your warmth.

“You know I love you, and only treat you fucking good.” His fingers curled to stroke your fluttering walls, enticing you to come for him with every stroke against your sweet spot. “Come on Beautiful, come undone for me so we can start our day.”

You pressed to arch but he was sure to keep you held down. You started to see stars peppering your eyesight and your mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as you came for him, that rush enveloped you to send tingles all along your nerves, and your voice finally broke out in a soft cry of his name while your toes dug into his flexing back, and fingers twisted in the sheets in a weak attempt to stay grounded.

It didn't stop him, he kept lapping at your sensitive bud, sucking and driving you to another with steady strokes of his finger. “That was just one... you know we are not stopping Princess until you have had a couple more.”

Ransom couldn't make coffee to save his life, but he certainly knew how to make you come more than just the one time.

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #amber writes #sweater writes #ransom drysdale au #knives out #knives out au #knives out fic

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stardustdiaries · 4 years ago

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Frozen over - Dincember day7: Cold

☆ @dindjarindiaries ☆

Pairing: Madalorian x reader

Summary: The reader's body is intolerant to the cold and all sense of self-preservation is tossed out the window when the Crest crashes and Mando is out cold.

Warnings: Descriptions of the effects of extremely cold weather, soft!Mando, fluff aaaand I think that's it!

Word count: 2,553

A/N: I can't believe I actually wrote this- aH! I ♡shamefully♡ dropped writing a few years back, so I'm a bit rusty, but feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!

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After months of travelling with the beskar-cladded Mandalorian as a mechanic, there are many things about said armored man that you picked up on rather quickly. Like how his actions we’re cautious, calculated and precise, or how he seemed to be a tad bit more protective than usual whenever you were out on a supply-run as he was after a bounty.

You also noticed how quick he was to pick up on your own quirks and needs as well.

It all began on one of your first bounty hunts with him, finding yourselves in a slightly-colder-than-normal planet as you followed the beeping of the tracking fob that was clutched in Mando's gloved hand. It wasn’t until the job was done that he took notice of your shivering figure next to him- even when you were wearing layers upon layers of clothing. His heart then dropped at the sight of the bright shade of blue that painted your fingertips.

He had then ushered you back to the Crest and did everything in his power to warm you up, even going as far as wrapping his cape around your shoulders in hopes that your trembling body would soon come to a rest. That’s when he found out about your body’s intolerance to the cold. Mando would then make sure to stock up on gloves, scarves and, he won’t admit this out loud, but he also made sure to buy you a cape of your own simply because he absolutely adored how his looked on you. That, and he loved matching with you, but that’s his own little secret.

Fast forward a few months of the Crest breaking down, run-ins with bounty hunters, late-night talks and hints of flirting, and here you are, stumbling through the hull of the fallen Crest. How you ended up in this situation was hard for you to remember, but the memory of the distress in Mando's modulated voice was enough to make you scramble up the ladder to the cockpit where you last saw him.

Rushing into the cockpit, your breath caught itself in your throat at the sight of Mando’s slumped figure- completely unmoving. Immediately, you fell to your knees by his side, your bare hands reaching up to his shoulders to give him a soft shake. “Mando?” The concern lacing your words was hard to hide when he didn’t respond to your voice. “Dank farrik, Mando please stay with me. Please.” you begged, noticing the icy coating that began to spread over the surface of his armor. With a sigh and a grunt of effort, you straightened his limp figure on the pilot seat and pulled down the cloth around his neck just enough to press your fingers against his skin. Once making contact and feeling his pulse, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but shoot, he was freezing.

You must have crashed on an ice planet.

Without much thinking, you tumbled down back into the hull and grabbed all of your blankets, scarves and capes after pulling on your gloves. Holding the bundle close to your chest, you sped to where the Child was put to rest on his little compartment. Upon seeing him, you ran through the same process of checking for a pulse and then proceeded to wrap him up with some of your blankets and scarves. Once you were done making sure the Child was safe from the bitter cold that seeped through the metal walls, you ran up to do the same with Mando. You finished wrapping the last of the bundle around his shoulders before your tried working the controls of the ship.

What happened? Zip, zero, nada.

The ship’s dead and considering that you had no clue what was wrong with it, you would have to do a full inspection as you waited for Mando to wake up.

You packed up your tools and quickly got to work, running checkups on the ship's inner systems and mechanisms, not being able to tell what was keeping the Crest from functioning the way it should. There seemed to be nothing you could do inside until you managed to fix the lights and you would need some of Mando’s help with that. Right now, all you could do was find out if something had gotten damaged on the outer side of the ship. Summoning all of your strength, you trudged through the deep blanket of white powder that surrounded, well- everything.

You have no idea where in the galaxy the Crest had crashed, but the snowfall was strong.

Quickly, you inspected the radiators, turbines and whatever could’ve been damaged before the ship even crashed.

And then you saw it. Dank farrik, this wasn’t good.

The left engine was royally messed up, looking as if it was mere seconds away from giving way right before the crash. It could take weeks to get it up to its usual functionality if you found the right parts for the full repair. However, you might just get it running long enough for you to fly the Crest to some nearby workshop- if there was even one on the planet.

After minutes of fumbling with your tools and hitting the wrong part for the hundredth time in a row, a string of curses flew past your lips, your breath being caught in the cold air before vanishing. To say you were cold was a complete and total understatement; you were sure you were mere seconds away from freezing to death. Your body shook violently as the frigid air pricked and attacked your skin mercilessly.

But you were stubborn- sometimes too stubborn for your own good.

With annoyance etched onto your features, you ripped your gloves off and tossed them to the side. After that, you were on autopilot, getting a better grip on your tools and doing the best you could even as your bones began to ache due to the weather around you.

Time apparently went by faster than you thought as the rapid sounds of footsteps clambering around the insides of the ship fell into your ears.

“Cyare!”

Your head snapped up, your nose stinging when you scrunched it in confusion. Shakily, you dropped your tools, wrapping your arms tightly around your torso as a sad attempt to warm yourself in any way possible. Maker, you’re pretty sure your fingers lost feeling a few minutes ago.

“Dank farrik- Cyare!”

You pushed yourself up to your knees with trembling arms, peering over the edge of the Crest and down to where the calls seemed to come from. There, you saw Mando, who frantically looked for you as he now held in his hands the bundle of capes and blankets you had previously draped over him.

“I-I'm up he-here, M-Mando!” you called, cursing your teeth for clattering so much. Gosh, your chest was tight.

At the sound of your voice, Mando whipped around, tilting his head up in your direction.

Maker, his heart dropped at the sight of you. Your nose, and fingers were a bright shade of blue and your hair was greatly dusted and soaked with the snow that got caught in it. Your skin was flushed, drained of its usual color. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you were frozen solid.

“Cyar’ika,” he sighed, his modulator doing nothing to mask the concern that heavily dripped from his words. “Why would you- why would you leave without any protection?” His arms stretched out to show the bundle you had left him with for emphasis.

You forced a lazy smile, but you’re sure it came out more like a grimace. “I di-didn’t leave c-complet-tely unprotect-ted.” You started, “M-my gloves a-are, um,” you looked around, trying to find your discarded gloves. “s-somewhere around h-here.” At that, you clenched and unclenched your fists, trying to get some feeling back to your fingers.

Mando shook his head, tilting his helmet sympathetically at you. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer to the ship, his visor not looking away from your shivering figure. “Can you…are you able to climb down?”

Your heart warmed at his concern and you managed to give him a nod through all of your shivering. Slowly, you tried climbing onto your feet, only to trip back down and land on your frozen rear. With a weak grunt falling past your lips, you looked down at your feet, sighing in realization.

“Cyar'ika?”

“I, u-um, I ca-can't feel my f-feet.”

Mando cursed under his breath, with words travelling through the modulator as a simple crackle that’s whisked away by the cold winds. His voice is strained, almost as if he’s struggling to get the words out when he parts his lips. “Do you trust me?”

Almost instantly, a laugh erupted from your pale lips, the sound so soft and warm that he swore it could melt this entire planet in seconds. His heart fluttered as you looked at him with gleaming eyes, even if he could tell you were struggling against the cold to keep them open. “W-what kind o-of question is th-that?” You breathed shallowly; your lungs tired after your burst of laughter. “Of co-course I do.”

Was that what he wanted to hear? Yes. But…something about hearing those words tumble out of your mouth pulled heavily at his heartstrings. He smiled under the helmet, fully knowing that you weren’t able to see it.

Dropping your capes and blankets somewhere inside the ship, he walked back out and stretched out his arms to you. You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head rapidly.

“I thought you said you trusted me?” he tilted his head at you, arms still stretched out.

“I-I do, I j-just—”

Mando chuckled softly, “I’ll catch you,” he spoke up, watching how your freezing figure curled up into itself. “I won’t let you fall, cyar'ika.”

“P-promise?”

“Promise.”

Even with the tightness and stiffness of the air around you, your muscles somehow managed to relax and loosen up at the sound of his voice.

Or maybe it was how lightheaded you were starting to feel?

You crawled to the edge of the Crest, taking one last look down at Mando before squeezing your eyes shut.

Call it a trust fall of sorts.

With one final breath, you pushed yourself off the top of Crest and let yourself fall.

What were you expecting? Probably to gently fall into his arms in the most romantic way ever. But the truth? Let’s say that you somehow ended up lying on his beskar-platted chest as his back was pressed to the powdery ground.

Maybe it was the shock or your lack of feeling, but you hadn’t noticed how his arms were tightly wrapped around you. His chest lifted you up and dropped you softly as he breathed and you couldn’t help but laugh at what just happened.

“H-how graceful of u-us,” you breathed, a smile curling the corners of your mouth. “Too b-bad we couldn’t re-record it.”

Once Mando noticed how your body relaxed on top of him, he spoke up softly. “Cyar'ika, don’t close your eyes,” he pushed himself up with one arm and held you close to his chest with his other tightly wrapped around you. “Stay with me a little longer, okay?”

“Y-you're warmer t-than I’d thought yo-you'd be.” You smiled lazily, visibly struggling to keep your eyes opened and focused on his visor.

Carrying you bridal-style into the Crest, he gently placed you on the ground before taking off his gloves and cupping your face in his hands. He sucked in a sharp breath, frowning under the helmet. “You’re freezing.”

You snickered under your breath, letting your head rest against the metal walls of the hull as your eyes fluttered a few times.

“Hey, hey, stay awake, cyar'ika. I need to warm you up before you go under, okay?” Modulator and all, you could still hear the concern that laced his words tightly. “Can you stay awake for me?”

You hummed softly, the sound barely loud enough to reach Mando’s ears. Immediately, Mando ran off to the makeshift kitchenette that he somehow managed to fit into the ship. He grabbed a clean bucket from a corner and filled it with water hot enough to warm you up.

When he came back, he gently picked you up before placing you on top of a crate, lifting your feet just enough to dip them into the bucket. He then proceeded to grab a new pair of gloves from your compartment and slip them onto your hands. As he worked, he could see your body loosen up from the shivering slightly.

Draping your blankets over your shoulders, he dared release the question that dangled from the tip of his tongue.

“Why did you do it?”

“Why d-did I do what?”

He sighed, lowering himself onto his knees to be at eye level with you. There, he took in your appearance- flushed skin, blue nose, pale lips. You knew conditions like these could harm you more than they should- more than they would harm him.

“Why did you go out without your layers, cyar’ika? Why did you… why did you give them to me?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your head dropped slightly before you looked back up at him. “Your armor,” you breathed.

Mando tilted his head, urging you to continue.

“It was frosted over a-and you were out cold.” You nodded at him, making him look down at the frost that had once again began to spread over the surface of his armor. “I then gave the child my other scarves and blankets, to make sure he was okay. I needed to keep you warm if I wanted to make sure you’d wake up.”

Mando’s heart plummeted to his stomach. Your body wasn’t capable of tolerating the cold like most could and you were still concerned about keeping him and the Child warm. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of someone being so recklessly selfless.

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you so you could look at him. Without even thinking, you leaned into the warmth of his touch, sending his heart into a frenzy.

“Promise me that if this ever happens again, you’ll make sure to take care of yourself too. I can’t have you risking yourself like this for me.”

You pouted childishly, making his eyes soften as he continued to focus on you.

“Mando, I-"

“Promise me that, please, cyar’ika.” He begged, gently caressing your cheeks as he spoke.

Humming at his touch, you offered him a reassuring smile as you nodded softly.

That was enough for him.

As night creeped its way onto the sky, covering the land like a thick blanket, Mando has stripped himself of his armor- except for his helmet- and now held you in his arms. The warmth of his touch spreading through your body nurtured you back to health. Your eyes flutter a few times as he pulls you closer to his body, your heart swelling at the gentle gesture.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” his rasp is gentle, almost as if he were afraid of startling you. He pulled your blankets tighter around you, smiling at how the corners of your lips curled up. “it’s my turn to keep you warm now.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #grogu djarin #this is the way #disneyplus #starwars #dincember #mando #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader

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buyca-kovid · 4 years ago

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Warming Up

Pairing: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

Warnings/Tags: tooth rotting fluff, slight mutual pining, too much cheesiness to be realistic, possibly inaccurate info on Bogano’s seasons, Greez makes an appearance, too much softness for cal on my part

Authors Note: This is the Star Wars Secret Santa gift for @ahsokatano-thetogruta! Hope you enjoy it! Also, to anyone reading, I’m new at posting fanfic so if I missed any warnings/tags in the fic, feel free to let me know!

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A shiver tears through you for what felt like the thousandth time in the last hour. You didn’t realize that Bogano has such cold winters, and the fact that the Mantis’s heating system was down wasn’t helping. Even with the “warm” clothes you have on, you’re freezing. You decide to distract yourself by grabbing something to drink. Maybe the caf you had made earlier (when the heat was working) was still at least lukewarm?

Stepping away from the holotable and towards the kitchenette, you pass Cal knelt over an opened panel trying to fix the heating, Greez hovering near him.

“It’s usually an easy fix, I’m not sure what’s wrong this time!” He exclaims through chattering teeth. Cal keeps fiddling with the various colored wires, checking for breaks and making sure he doesn’t accidentally snap a wire from how cold the metal had become.

“I can’t tell either, everything seems fine here,” Cal replies. As you sip your (cold) caf, your gaze falls to him hunched over the mess of wires. You notice a few strands of his hair out of place because he’s so leaned over, his cheeks have a dusting of rose, and his lips somehow aren’t chapped from the cold, every breath leaving them as a cloud.

Maker, how is he so pretty?

You shake yourself out of your mini trance, set your cup of caf down and walk over to them.

“Can I see?” You ask as you lean over Cal’s left shoulder. He shifts so you can kneel down next to him, and you have to resist the urge to lean into him because of the slight warmth. You start moving the wires around and soon notice that one had snapped after all.

“The cold must be getting to you two too much,” you say jokingly as you hold the two ends of the broken wire toward them and start to reconnect them. Looking for something to cover the live metal, you notice that Cal has the electrical tape in his pocket, and without thinking you reach into his pocket and grab it yourself, grazing his leg in the process. You didn’t notice him tense up at the casual gesture, his heart picking up speed for a split second. You were too focused on taping up the wire.

“There, all fixed. Now we won’t freeze to death,” you say as lightheartedly as you can. Cal is too focused on your hand holding the tape to say anything, and Greez snaps him out of his thoughts:

“Thanks! I don’t know how I managed to miss that... But we’re not done yet. It’s gonna take a few hours for the heater to get going since it’s basically frozen.”

You let out a soft groan at that, realizing you’re going to have to fall asleep somehow in this cold.

“At least it’s working now,” Cal shrugs after a beat. You give him a soft smile before a shiver and a yawn go through you simultaneously.

“It’s getting late, I’m gonna try and sleep.” you say, standing up from your spot.

“I should too,” Cal says hesitatingly.

You both head to the quarters you had to share (since the ship was small). Neither of you seemed to mind though, you still had your own beds, so what more could you need?

Cal lets you enter first before closing the door behind him, and you two slowly climb into your beds, saying your good nights before turning the light off.

You can’t stop shivering. Now that the sun had completely set, it had gotten even colder and no matter how wrapped up in your blanket you were, you couldn’t seem to warm up.

“You okay?” You hear Cal ask quietly from his bunk.

“Could be better, honestly. You’re not cold?”

“I am.”

Then you both lay in silence for a moment.

“I think I’ve got an idea if you’re okay with it,” Cal says carefully.

“Hm? What’s that?”

Cal gets up from his bunk and stretches out his hand to you. You take it to get up and he pulls you to the end of the room and turns you toward his workbench. You let out a quick shiver, then feel a blanket drape over your shoulders. Except it’s not a blanket, it’s the poncho Cal was wearing. You feel a tiny bit of warmth for the first time tonight, and the smell of the soap Cal uses fills your senses. His hands linger over your shoulders after he lets go of the poncho, and you push away the desire to take them in your own.

“Thanks Cal,” you say, crossing your arms under the poncho.

“Don’t look till I say, okay?” He asks.

“Okay... what are you doing anyway?”

“You’ll see.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he walks back over to the bunks, but you also hear a tinge of nervousness. What was he about to do? You hear the rustling of the mattresses and blankets, then he taps your shoulder and you turn around.

He had spread both of your thin mattresses on the ground and layered all the blankets and pillows you two had on top of them. You look over to him and he has a nervous, boyish smile on his face. A smile spreads across your face too as you look back at the new bed.

“If this is okay, now we’ll be able to warm each other up. But if you’re not comfortable with it I ca-“

You cut him off with a kiss to his cheek. His face flushes even redder than it had from the cold. You take his hand and pull him to the bed, both your hearts pounding now. As you lay down, you stretch your arms out to him and he excitedly lays down next to you, you both immediately tangling together under the blankets.

You can’t help but giggle as you both wrap your arms around each other, your bodies closer than they had ever been. You’re finally starting to warm up. You bury your head under his chin and he pulls you as close as possible by the waist and runs a hand through your hair. Cal lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t even realize he was holding in, and you move to look at him, your faces only inches away from each other.

“This is perfect,” you say slowly.

“So are you,” Cal says without even thinking. Your stomach flips and you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you two. You can feel his heart pounding as he kisses you back, and you can’t help but grin into the kiss. You feel a whole new warmth spread through you, one that you want to feel forever now that you’ve gotten a taste. When you finally pull away, Cal rests his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes.

“...’So are you’?” you ask sarcastically.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Cal retorts with a grin on his face.

You can’t help the grin that spreads on your face as you kiss him again, feeling that warmth again and not caring if the heater starts working. You didn’t need it anymore.

#star wars secret santa 2020 #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis rec #arden’s writing #ahsokatano-thetogruta #star wars x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x gn!reader #star wars x you #star wars x gn!reader #cal kestis fanfic #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order fanfic #hope you like it!#also it's not late i swear

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shadowheartoffaith · 4 years ago

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Her hands curl over the headboard, her head falling back against the pillows as a low moan tears its way from her throat. Cullen’s head is buried between her legs, his hands wrapped gently around her thighs, keeping her spread open for him as his tongue passes over her folds in a way that has her swearing she is going to die from pleasure.

She had woken to his fingers trailing featherlight down the bare skin of her side, the room still warm from the fire and the down of the lavish blankets draped over the bed. The entirety of Chateau Desjardins is stunning and decadently over-the-top with its marble floors and foreign art lining the walls. Elodie had been enraptured despite her exhaustion the night before when they had arrived. Though she is now accustomed to long haul treks through Thedas with Inquisitor Trevelyan and his party, five days of traveling on horseback had left her tired and a bit sore.

They had arrived late in the evening, the Inquisitor and his Inner Circle and Advisors being led to the formal dining room for a warm meal and then shown to their rooms throughout the winding estate. The soldiers had made camp on the grounds and Leliana’s agents had gone on ahead to Halamshiral to find places to smuggle Inquisition troops into the Winter Palace during Empress Celene’s peace talks.

The evening had been long with talk of dress code and etiquette and protocol. The list of nobles in attendance had been chattered about between Vivienne and Josephine and Leliana. Vivienne had even arranged for gilded carriages to take them to the palace and mercilessly questioned the Inquisitor about the famed Council of Heralds for the majority of the meal, leaving Elodie’s head spinning with the intricacies of the Game.

Her head spins for another reason now. Her back arches off of the mattress and Cullen’s hands slip higher to pin her hips down. Light dances behind her eyelids, his name escaping her in a sigh and he slows his ministrations but does not stop. Her fingers dig into his curls, urging him closer.

A sharp rap at the door has her eyes flying open.

She bites down on another moan. A leftover habit from their days in the Circle; she fears being caught. She tugs at Cullen’s hair and he chuckles against her, his nose bumping against her clit. She hisses out a breath at the sensation.

“They’ll leave,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

Another sharp knock sounds before a heavily Orlesian-accented voice informs them that breakfast is being served in the dining room. A heartbeat later her ears twitch at the sound of footsteps receding down the hall.

“We should go,” she grouses.

Cullen hums against her, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses up her bare leg. “Do you wish for me to stop?”

His voice is so low, so roughened with lust. She trembles at the thick edge of his Fereldan accent as it creeps into his voice. He lifts his head to look at her. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes are nearly black and she watches as he licks his lips clean of her.

Her toes curl.

“No,” she breathes and he is back to the pressing task of making her see stars.

He strokes her leg as he circles a particularly sensitive spot with his wicked tongue and a cry catches in her throat. All of her nerve endings are alight with fire and she feels her muscles coiling tighter and tighter before she falls limp and boneless against the mattress. Another soft kiss is pressed to her hip and then Cullen is hovering over her, those amber eyes tender and amused. “Good morning,” he murmurs, bringing his mouth down to hers.

She cannot speak, she can hardly move, but she returns his kiss.

An even sharper knock at the door has Cullen growling down into her throat in frustration. He pulls away to call “What?” over his shoulder.

“If you two are quite finished,” comes Josephine’s haughty voice, “There are preparations to begin! We have much to do!”

Elodie lets out a quiet laugh and Cullen grumbles something about privacy.

“It is time to greet the day, Commander!” Josephine sing-songs from outside before she proceeds down the hall to break down another door.

Elodie traces her fingertips from Cullen’s jaw up and over the shell of his ear. He leans into her touch, his stormy expression softening. “Duty calls,” she murmurs.

He drops his head down to nuzzle at her neck. “I had no idea this party was going to take up so much of our time. Or become an all day event.”

“From what I’ve gathered Orlesian parties are some sort of national pastime.” She strokes the back of his head soothingly. “I may be even less excited than you are,” she admits. “But this is important. And once it’s over we can do this again.”

“I will be holding you to that,” he informs her, his breath warm against her skin.

She grins.

“Dorian Pavus! Open this door!” comes Josephine’s shout from down the hall.

Elodie shakes her head. “I hope they locked that door or Josephine is about to get an eye full.”

Cullen peers up at her questioningly.

“If you’d ever been camping with Dorian and Bull, you’d understand. Apparently qunari have very lax views on public decency.”

His cheeks flush at her implication. “Have you...have you ever seen-?”

“A time or two, yes.” She tries not to think too long on the few times she had been sitting at the cook fire and Iron Bull had come wandering from his shared tent without a stitch on him, Dorian shouting from inside.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen grumbles, mortified, and pulls himself out of bed.

She watches him gather up his clothing from the floor and splash water on his face. Something about watching him prepare for the day has always left her somewhat speechless. It is such a domestic and commonplace thing but it is also something so horribly intimate. She had never dared dream that a day would come when she would be the first to see him in the morning. His golden hair curled and bed-tousled before he tames it into submission, his amber eyes soft and still slightly glazed.

He is lacing up his breeches when he glances back at her, still lounging in bed. He follows her gaze and can’t seem to help glancing down at himself self consciously. “What is it?”

Another smile spreads her lips and she shakes her head. “Nothing, vhen’an. I just cannot seem to move my legs yet, is all. You were very...thorough.”

His ears burn scarlet and he coughs to clear his throat.

“For Maker’s sake! This is not a circus,” cries Josephine. “Find yourself a decent pair of trousers!”

The day is a flurry of orders and reports and dresses and shoes.

The Inner Circle flits through the chateau as they prepare, sharing jokes and jabs in passing. Servants come through with trays of figs and roasted nuts and glasses of sparkling wine.

Elodie is sat in front of a vanity mirror while one of the household servant’s carefully tends to her hair. Her long red tresses are carefully pulled atop her head in a coronet, a few loose strands curled into tight tendrils that frame her face. She has had no one to tend to her hair since Ormaline left the Circle.

The girl is young, her brow furrowed in concentration as she threads diamond crusted combs into Elodie’s hair. She bobs her head with a satisfied smile which Elodie watches in the mirror’s reflection. “What do you think, my lady?”

“It is very beautiful, thank you,” Elodie tells her.

The girl’s smile widens. “What color is your gown, my lady?”

Vivienne glides into the parlor with Josephine and Cassandra trailing behind her. “You look marvelous, darling!” she praises, motioning with a hand. Two more servants enter, holding aloft the heavy dress boxes from Val Royeaux. Vivienne leaves them to arrange the gowns and comes up to Elodie’s side, studying her.

“Madame de Fer?”

Vivienne purses her lips before turning to the servant girl. “Her face has such fine angles, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course,” the girl says instantly.

“I think some rouge along her cheekbones will do well to accentuate that. And perhaps some coal for her eyes, yes?” Vivienne recommends and Elodie feels as if she has become one with the furniture. She has never worn cosmetics on her face. Has only worn a gown two other times in her life.

She feels frighteningly out of her depth and cannot help but wonder what Cullen will think when he sees her dressed up like some sort of showy bird.

“Now, now, darling,” tuts Vivienne. “Do not frown! You will thank me.”

Vivienne had been present at all of Elodie’s dress fittings in Val Royeaux, offering her opinion on fabrics and colors she felt would suit Elodie’s skin and hair and eyes. Things that had been entirely lost on the healer.

She takes a steadying breath and allows the girl to do as Vivienne has instructed, keeping her eyes downcast throughout the process of brightening her cheeks and lining her eyes and coloring her lips.

There is rustling behind her as Cassandra and Josephine ready themselves.

Vivienne is humming in approval behind Elodie. “Stunning, dear.”

“You will draw many eyes this evening, my lady,” the servant adds in agreement.

Elodie dares a glance at her reflection and her lips part in surprise. Her grey eyes sparkle like starlight, a thin line of coal smudge beneath to make them even brighter. Her lips are full and pouty and the color of flower petals. And the light rouge sweeping high up on her cheekbones makes her face appear even sharper, a bit more exotic.

“Fashion is a type of magic as well, my dear,” Vivienne informs her, her tone as gentle as Elodie as ever heard her. “I daresay our dear Commander will be unable to keep his eyes off of you tonight.”

That thought sits warmly in her belly. She wishes this were the sort of party where that sort of thing could be afforded. Where Cullen could simply look his fill and perhaps ask her to dance, sweep her away from the crowd and kiss her soundly. But she knows that these peace talks cannot fail and that Cullen cannot be distracted. Not by her, not by anything.

The Enchanter excuses herself to dress and Josephine takes up her place when the servant girl moves to retrieve Elodie’s gown. The ambassador is a vision in a soft dandelion yellow, her dark hair swept up into an elaborate updo of curls finished with shimmering ribbon. Long satin gloves cover her arms up to the elbow.

Cassandra is in a pair of fitted trousers of black velvet, a purple doublet with the Inquisition’s insignia finishing off the look. The Seeker’s boots are polished to perfection and the entire ensemble fits her so perfectly that Elodie smiles.

“You both look amazing,” she says earnestly. “Masen is not going to know what to do with himself,” she adds to Josephine.

The ambassador waves away the compliment, clearly flustered. “Oh, you flatter me much too much. He will have so much else to occupy his time this evening, I doubt he will even notice.”

Elodie doubts that very much and Cassandra says as much.

“Here we are, my lady.” The servant girl holds up Elodie’s dress and she rises from her seat and stares back at the emerald skirts of her ballgown.

Now or never, she thinks to herself. She is suddenly nervous she will step on her trailing skirts and rip them. Or that she will trip in front of the nobility. Or-

The heavy fabric pools on the floor and she steps into the puddle of green tulle and satin. She holds out her arms to slip them through the thin cap sleeves that rest below her shoulders. The neckline ends just above her cleavage and the bodice is a masterpiece of embroidered leaves and flowers and the back dips into an elegant V baring her shoulder blades and the first few notches of the bar of her spine. She sucks in a breath as the servant girl laces up the corseting before stepping away to admire her work.

Elodie resists the urge to bite at her lip to avoid smudging the paint there. She sways in an anxious half-twirl, looking to Josephine and Cassandra for validation. “Well?” she asks nervously, bunching her hands in her skirts. “How is it?”

“Madame de Fer is correct,” Josephine says, eyes sparkling. “Cullen will not be able to keep his eyes off you. That is certain.”

“Perhaps it will be enough to distract him from how much he detests these affairs,” Cassandra laughs.

“Pardon me, ladies!” Dorian sing-songs as he strides into the room. “Ah!” He makes a beeline for the vanity, snatching up the stick of coal that had been used to line Elodie’s eyes before repeating the process on himself with practiced efficiency. He catches sight of her in the mirror and spins around. “Elodie?”

She laughs nervously, dipping her head.

The servant softly excuses herself, collecting the dress box and departing.

Josephine smooths down her skirts before announcing she is off to see to the rest of the party, her concern seeming to center around Sera. Cassandra offers Elodie a nod and follows the ambassador out.

“Is it so bad that you did not even recognize me?” Elodie teases Dorian once they are alone.

“You must be joking,” he scoffs, drawing closer. “You are positively stunning.” He takes her hand and leads her into a twirl. “The color suits you. You will draw the eyes of the entire court.”

Elodie rolls her eyes. “Ah, yes. A rabbit in a ballgown. Simply magnificent.”

Dorian waves off her words. “We will look quite the menagerie, I am certain. You will be in good company with a Tevinter Altus, a Qunari spy and whatever Cole happens to be. And that’s not to mention Varric and his fan club and Blackwall’s beard. You just worry about wearing that dress as brilliantly as you are now.”

“Elodie, are you-Maker’s breath.”

She and Dorian turn to see Cullen standing in the doorway, obviously gobsmacked with his mouth hanging open. He stares at her, eyes roving from the diamond combs in her hair down to the embroidery of her bodice, trailing the length of her skirts. He blinks.

“Do you feel better about it now?” Dorian teases her. “I believe our Commander’s reaction says it all.”

“You look...that gown...it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,” Cullen manages to stammer out.

He paces into the parlor, his fitted coat a deep grey with the adornments afforded to his military position shining against the fabric.

Dorian smirks. “It does look rather good, doesn’t it?” He gives her another once over, a

mischievous glint in his eyes. “I do, however, think it would look even better on Cullen’s floor.”

Cullen pauses his advance, seeming to choke on his tongue. “Are you...are you flirting with her for me?”

Dorian shrugs. “I supposed I would get your evening off to as decent a start as your morning.” He holds up a hand before Cullen or Elodie can argue. “This house may be exquisite but the walls are not that thick.” He offers them a salacious wink before sauntering from the room.

Cullen watches him go, at a loss for words.

“You look very handsome, vhen’an,” Elodie whispers.

And he does. His coat hugs him perfectly, his trousers well pressed and flattering. And, of course, his boots are as immaculate as Cassandra’s. Thankfully his collar is high enough to hide the love bite she had left him with the night before.

Cullen turns back to her, holding out a hand.

She takes it, their fingers lacing together as he draws her closer.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on,” he whispers reverently. His lips press to the side of her jaw, lingering.

She trails her fingers over the Inquisition insignia emblazoned on the breast of his coat. “Cullen, I-”

“Come now, everyone!” Josephine calls from the vestibule. “We must be on our way! Has anyone seen Cole?”

Cullen offers Elodie a wry smile. “Duty calls,” he murmurs her earlier words back to her. “Shall we?”

She takes his arm, feeling as if this is all some sort of fever dream and she will wake alone in her bed in Kinloch Hold. She tightens her grip and draws herself up to her full height as Cullen leads her from the parlor and into the vestibule where the others are already waiting.

#dragon age au #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #commander cullen #cullen rutherford #cullen rutherford romance #cullenmance #cullen x mage #cullen x elodie #romance #smut #halamshiral #winter palace #wicked eyes and wicked hearts #fluff #wingman dorian

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nanagoswife · 4 years ago

Text

Please, Don't Go. - Chapter 6

Summary: Flashbacks come back, but with a twist for Obi-Wan. An encounter happens...

W/C: 3.6k

Warnings: Where do I begin? Descriptions of a man burned alive, angst, murder, mention of blood and burned skin, injuries, suffocation, dark thoughts, I think that's it? (There's a reason I posted a heads up)

A/N: This does have a reference to Karen Miller’s Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Wild Space. I don’t mention the character’s name in this because it may be considered a spoiler? I don’t know. But, it’s a legends book anyways😅 anyways, the reaction Obi-Wan has is actually the same as it is with a little spice added. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.

- - -

As he held you, you eventually fell asleep in his arms. You more than deserved it. So, he took the time to admire your sleeping form.

Obi-Wan was determined to commit every detail to his memory. The slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair fell around you, how warm you were against him. Most of all, he wanted to memorize how peaceful you looked despite recent events. A small smile was on your lips as you were in the comfort of his arms. It was a smile that he didn’t think he would see for a while before he came to talk with you.

That’s when he began to think about what you had shown him. There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for that. Your worries ran way deeper than just your personal situation. You were worried more about your planet, your people, rather than your family. It was truly selfless, yet he still dreaded the fact that you were carrying that burden this whole time.

At first, he started to think of situations that he may have seen that were similar. In truth, there was not much. He’d seen slavery and torture, even been a victim of torture, and there was only one scene that he had seen from you that he had once witnessed. A truly horrid image, let alone witnessed experience. It made him glad that it was only an image for you.

Pained screams filled the air. A pang of guilt pulled on Obi-Wan as he looked to his master. Their eyes met with a mutual feeling. They had both failed to keep the man safe. The two of them still advanced as they could possibly still save him.

That thought was wiped away quicker than a varactyl finishing a hundred meter race. His eyes first settled on the flames licking at the grassy ground. There must’ve been fuel around the small area before catching onto the stake where the man was. He was suspended on this stake and Obi-Wan had no time to try and see how. Instead, the man’s restarted screams broke this thought. The young man watched in horror as the flames quickly consumed the man attached. The agony filled screams, the sight of fire burning a blistering skin, and Maker, the smell.

He wanted to find the people had done this, but he wasn’t able to. The feelings he was having were against the Jedi Code. That wasn’t the only thing stopping him, though. What he was witnessing had frozen him to place and he thought about how that could be him if they captured him. No, it’d be worse. This man was only speaking against working people to death, whereas Obi-Wan would not only be defending this stance, but he’d be trying to send them to jail at the very least.

After that day, he had been plagued by the sight. Everytime he tried to sleep, he was constantly visited by the scene over and over. It had gotten so bad that he refused to sleep at a point. He was nineteen when he had seen this and nothing he had seen before this had shaken him so badly.

If he were being honest, he still was visited by these dreams every now and then. The only difference was that now he had come to terms with it and it wasn’t as horrifying anymore. Not when it was something he constantly re-lived for many years. Thank the Force that Qui-Gon helped him then, and still occasionally does.

Momentarily, he was broken from his thoughts as you shifted the slightest bit, making yourself more comfortable and burying even further into his chest. A smile crept across his lips as he watched your still peaceful expression. He pulled the blanket higher and draped them around your shoulders so that it would provide further comfort in the chilly room.

Then, he started to think about that moment again. Only, this time, it wasn’t the man. In fact, the person wasn’t a man at all. The person now on the stake was you. Accompanying the rest of the vivid details, he was now imagining your agonizing screams as the flames consumed you. He imagined how he watched you die and had no other choice but to stay in place as he was also constrained; held by two guards who forced his eyes to meet yours.

As he watched, something in him snapped as your screams had ceased. The connections, the bond the two of you shared was broken. You were gone. An unbearable pain filled him as he realized that he couldn’t even hold you one last time. You didn’t deserve the excruciating death that you had been subject to.

An anger bubbled in his chest as he thought about how those men had done that to you. They didn’t even let him say goodbye. Instead of being afraid, his anger took over him. He was determined to find the two culprits and make them suffer. Nothing but revenge filled his mind as he knew they were not far away.

In an act of blind rage, he broke the restraints that bound his hands with the force and easily fought off the two that had held him in place. Neither of them had his lightsaber, but that wasn’t a problem.

He made his way to where the two fiends were surely enjoying their recent endeavors. When he opened the doors to the building they were in, the inside was suddenly an entirely different place. The surroundings looked like some sort of hallway with multiple red shields on the way to the end. There was a glance of someone in front of him behind one of the red barriers but it quickly dissipated and the entire inside of the building changed once again.

Though he was confused as the building was once again the actual one, his eyes landed on the two men. They were quivering in terror as he advanced. There was something about it that actually pleased him.

Then, everything was a blur. All he could catch glimpses of were moments where his knuckles were bloodied, some point he had his lightsaber, and then one where he was force choking one of them.

When it was over, the two were in an unrecognizable heap in front of him. His breathing was heavy as he stared at it, lightsaber still ignited.

An overwhelming sense of grief and dread for his own actions overcame him. He crumpled to his knees and started to cry. What had he done that led you to your fate? What took over him that played out this moment? He held his face in his hands as so much conflict flooded through him.

“Obi,” he heard your soft voice accompanied with a gentle shaking motion. Opening his eyes, he looked into your eyes that were filled with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Your words confused him until he noticed his rapid breathing. Not only that, but you brought a hand up and wiped tears away from his face. When had he even fallen asleep?

“Was it what I showed you? Because, if it was, I’m so sorry that-”

“Shh, no it wasn’t that,” he reassured you as he brought a hand to your cheek and rubbed comforting circles into your cheek. “I… I just had an old nightmare.”

You met his eyes and you immediately knew he wasn’t telling you the full truth. The two of you had spent so much time together that you could each read the other well. So, he knew he wasn’t going to get by this.

“Obi-Wan, you were making sounds. It sounded like you were in pain.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. There was no way he could keep this secret. “There was something that you showed me that I once witnessed,” he said as you gently traced patterns on his chest to comfort him. Then, he told you everything. That mission on Antar 4, then how it all shifted to how it was you instead of the man he had witnessed. The only thing he left out was what he saw when he first opened the door to the building. He would bring that to Qui-Gon.

You listened intently and continued your subtle actions that soothed Obi-Wan’s painful retelling. After he finished the dream, you pulled him to you and caressed the back of his head as his face went into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, Obi. It was only a nightmare.”

“What if this is a way the force is showing me that I’d give in? I don’t know what I would do. Y/N, I’m scared,” he blurted out, still pressed against you.

The admission almost shocked you. At the same time, you understood because it also scared you. “Obi-Wan, it’s alright. It wasn’t real and I won’t leave you in life, or in death. I’ll still be with you.”

This seemed to calm him down. His breathing became more even and he began to relax.

“I do want to ask you one thing.”

He brought his head from its spot against your neck and moved so that he met yours, “Of course.”

“Please, don’t go to the Dark Side because of me. Promise me that you won’t seek revenge or act on it if anything like that happens. I want to be your strength to continue on, not your weakness.”

Obi-Wan’s beautiful blue eyes looked into yours with immense adoration and care. Slowly, he nodded.

“I promise.”

Months had gone by and nothing happened. The most dangerous situations they had gone through was occasionally tripping over something. It made the two Jedi more suspicious rather than relieved.

You were also suspicious of it all. Just before this being sent into hiding, you had been attacked by bounty hunters. So why weren’t they trying to find you. It couldn’t be because you all had actually found a planet that good to hide on.

At the moment, Qui-Gon was out trying to contact your brother to find out what was going on. On top of the suspicious quiet, there had been a message saying that conflict was quelled enough that it was safe again.

“Shouldn’t this be good news,” you asked more warily as you watched Qui-Gon disappear into the bushes.

“We need to make sure it isn’t a trick. This could be someone else that would put your life more in danger for their own gain,” Obi-Wan replied. He was waiting very patiently for Qui-Gon to fade far enough to know it was safe.

You were thinking the same thing when you turned around to face Obi-Wan. For a few moments, the two of you stood and waited until he finally nodded the all clear.

Quickly, you made your way into his arms. It was simply a hug, but the two of you felt like it would give something away to Qui-Gon. The two of you were sure that he was catching on to a few changes, like sitting next to each other closely or going out to watch the stars often, but that was all.

Mainly, the two of you would wait until Qui-Gon was gone, or Obi-Wan would sneak into your room after his master was asleep.

The most unforgettable night was only a week ago. It was one of the nights that Obi-Wan didn’t have to go out to get supplies and Qui-Gon went due to contacting your planet as well.

That night, the moon was high and full and positioned perfectly in the clearing of trees that it shed just the right amount of light. That night was already special, as it was the day that your father had been coronated and married your mother.

You were celebrating on your own as you looked up at the stars. Obi-Wan was currently repairing something so he couldn’t come out. So, you sat in the usual spot against the rock, singing songs written in honour of your parents and of the events. They were played every year and were joined in a planet wide celebration. People from around the planet were allowed into the castle’s entrance yard and in the surrounding city for the whole thing.

It was a beautiful demonstration of unity. What went wrong?

“Y/N?”

You jumped as you didn’t notice that Obi-Wan was standing right beside you. You were so swept up in your memories along with humming the songs that you were unaware that he had joined you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright.”

For a moment, the two of you were silent. Obi-Wan stayed standing and looked up at the same patch of stars that you were currently studying.

“What song was that?” His question took you slightly by surprise. Embarrassment filled you as well as you had never sung in front of, well, anyone. Maybe in front of your family and Kenth, but no one else.

“It’s one of the many songs played to celebrate this day. To celebrate my parents. This particular one was for them to dance to. A waltz of sorts.”

You went silent as you remembered watching your parents dance to this. It was a tradition that they would dance to this alone. No one else joined in. It was just the two of them and sometimes you and Davin would join. Only really when you were very young though. That’s when you had an idea.

“Do you dance Obi-Wan?”

“Not often.”

“Would you like to?”

The two of you met the other’s gaze. His face softened as you looked at you and he couldn’t help but nod his head. “Only if you tell me about this celebration.”

At that, you smiled largely. Obi-Wan offered you his hand and helped you stand. He easily brought you to his chest and placed a hand on your waist. You rested your hand on his shoulder and couldn’t help but trace little patterns.

“I didn’t know Jedi could dance,” you said jokingly.

Obi-Wan chuckled, “Well, we do have to mingle during social events often enough.”

“Fair point,” you chuckled.

Then, the two of you started to dance, Obi-Wan leading you to a rhythm only he knew. Like promised, you told him about the celebrations that were always held. You told him how the whole week was a holiday and how it was a festival of sorts. The whole time, you described everything from the food to the decorations. You even told some stories about how you forced Captain Baize to dance with you.

Forcing Kenth to dance wasn’t the only thing you would drag him into, though. There were games, puppet shows, and so many people who came with beautifully decorated pots, clothing, tapestries, and so, so many sweets and deserts. Since you always needed a guard, you dragged Captain Baize everywhere. Sure, he did enjoy coming with you, but he was always hesitant to start. In the end, he knew that you wouldn’t take no as an answer and that he also really wanted to see what was brought in.

As you regaled Obi-Wan with every detail, his smile never dropped and he never broke eye contact with you. He was enjoying how bright you were while recalling these memories. Seeing you like this, he committed the moment to memory. Your smile made you even more beautiful than you already were.

A snap in the distance took his attention from you. You also looked in the direction it came from. Obi-Wan separated from you and guided you behind him. His hand moved to hover over his lightsaber.

“Obi?” you whispered.

“It’s not Qui-Gon. If something goes wrong, be prepared to run.”

For many offputting, silent moments, Obi-Wan was on high alert. Occasionally he would shift you around to a position to better protect you as he sensed the movement of a being. He tried to search for more. Dread filled him as there were two more that he sensed.

Before anything could happen, Obi-Wan sent a message to Qui-Gon through the force. It wasn’t of words, but it conveyed the danger that was rapidly approaching.

“Well, well, well,” said one of the bounty hunters as he emerged from the brush. “Come on out boys. It’s only the padawan.”

You heard the others laugh maniacally as they all followed into the clearing. Immediately, you recognized them all. They were the men who had been after you all those months ago when you first met the Jedi. Their leader was Zacrick Moorlin.

Obi-Wan instinctually guided you further behind you so that his full body blocked you. If it were the last thing he did, he was going to make sure that they wouldn’t get to you. He consciously used the ship’s ramp as protection as well as he could. He wasn’t taking the chance of someone sneaking up from behind.

“Look at how protective he is. Is she really that important?”

“She’s more important than you think,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Oh you won’t? Oh we’re so sorry. We’ll just pack up and leave then,” Zacrick replied scornfully. “No. We’re leaving with her dead or alive.”

You saw as Obi-Wan’s shoulders tense at the remark. Carefully, you placed a hand on his back to try and calm him. If anything were to happen, being that tense would not allow him to properly fend them off.

Your gesture worked. You could feel as he loosened and even became more attentive.

“Now, padawan, I would suggest stepping aside before we force you to.”

“That’s not happening as long as I’m alive.”

“Then we’ll change that.”

Zacrick made a gesture and the other bounty hunters pulled out their blasters, Obi-Wan igniting his saber, and they started firing shots that were easily deflected. The shots didn’t last long, but it was long enough for Obi-Wan to not notice that Zacrick had disappeared.

Before Obi-Wan could search for his energy, the other two began firing again.

“Y/N, ru-” he was cut off as he turned to see that Zacrick had you, an arm around your neck.

There was a knife in the bounty hunter’s other hand and fear pulsed through Obi-Wan. That knife was too close to your stomach.

“Let her go,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Obi, it’s okay,” you said, your breath being squeezed out of you as the arm around your neck tightened.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but let his face soften when he looked at you. He wanted to comfort you as much as you were trying to comfort him. Zacrick looked between the two of you and was hit with a realization.

“Oh, so the two of you care for each other, do you? Isn’t this perfect.”

Panic rose in Obi-Wan’s heart as the knife was brought up to your arm and was placed just under the sleeve of your short sleeved shirt.

“In that case, you get to watch.”

The whimper you made as the knife dug into your arm sent a pang of pain through him. He was about to do something until he felt an electric pulse shoot through his body.

“Like he said,” one of the other bounty hunters said, “you’re going to watch.”

His head was forced up by his hair and he had no choice but to watch as your blood began to spill around the knife. He saw as Zacrick tightened his arm around your neck, cutting off all air.

Moments later, your eyelids fluttered closed. Once you lost consciousness, the bounty hunter carelessly let you fall to the ground in a heap.

Obi-Wan didn’t care, he was going to get to you. Surprisingly, they let him go to your unconscious form. He took you in his arms and immediately examined the cut on your arm after checking your pulse. Relief flooded him as the cut wasn’t too deep and your pulse was still even. The relief only lasted a second as anger overtook him. They could’ve killed you. They could have cost you your arm.

After placing a brief kiss to your forehead, he carefully laid you to the ground before standing. His breaths became quickened as only anger filled him. How dare they do this? How could they be so careless? Why did they force him to watch?

As he turned towards the three bounty hunters, fear filled their eyes. Suddenly, he used the force and lifted Zacrick in the air as he crushed his windpipes. It felt amazing. The force seemed to have a new electric flow through him. It rippled in him and made him feel stronger.

“Obi-Wan!”

The voice startled him. Qui-Gon was running out of the forest but stopped a few feet away from his padawan.

“Control your feelings, padawan. Let him go,” Qui-Gon said sternly.

That’s when Obi-Wan snapped back to reality. What was he doing? Revenge was never something he should’ve acted on. No matter what this man had done, this was not the course of action. The worst part was that he liked it until Qui-Gon snapped him from it.

As the bounty hunter was let down to the ground, all three of them quickly ran. If that was how only one would act, they didn’t want to see what both of them could do together.

Obi-Wan was breathing heavily, almost as if he were choking himself and not the bounty hunter.

“I- I don’t know…”

“We’ll discuss it later. For now let’s make sure the princess is alright.”

Obi-Wan nodded, he was almost distraught. The thought of making sure you were still alright brought him out of it.

This was not going to be an easy conversation.

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003

#obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan fluff #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x y/n #obi wan star wars #padawan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #qui gon/obi wan #qui gon jinn #Please Don't Go #obi wan angst

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wizardofrozz · 3 years ago

Text

Young Guiding the Young

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Jira, mention of Shmi Skywalker

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: mention of violence, slavery, grief

AU Masterlist

The door closing behind Obi-Wan felt like a rock settling in his stomach. The only thing keeping him from hyperventilating was the fear of waking the cranky 3-year-old resting against his shoulder. Everything had happened so fast that Obi-Wan was still reeling, the tear tracks on his face barely dried from their heartbreaking goodbye. Thankfully Anakin tired himself out before he made himself sick; Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he could handle more wailing yet.

He stood silently in the empty hovel, scanning the unfamiliar layout, and tried to breathe through the emotions trying to rip him apart from the inside out. Obi-Wan stood there for a long time, mindlessly hushing Anakin if he started to whine, but putting off venturing further as long as he could. Finally, something inside him snapped and Obi-Wan took a hesitant step forward, his burning eyes trailing over the large stone table in the middle of the room.

It took him a long time to finally force himself into the first bedroom but he immediately decided it would be Anakin’s. The boy was still sleeping fitfully against his shoulder and he thanked the Maker their new home was already equipped with the bare necessities. Obi-Wan cautiously pried the sleeping child from around his neck, resting his head against the worn pillow, and draping the thin blanket over his small body. He perched on the edge of the mattress and just stared down at Anakin’s calm, sleeping face, gently brushing his fingers through the boy’s short hair.

A tear dropped onto the blanket between them but Obi-Wan couldn’t take his eyes off Anakin. He had promised Shmi he’d protect Anakin at all costs and he meant it, but he had no idea how he was supposed to do it. How was he supposed to teach and nurture a small child when he was barely an adult himself? A violent sob pitched him forward and Obi-Wan pressed the back of his hand against his lips to hold back the sound. Obi-Wan sat at Anakin’s side, crying softly until Tatooine’s twin suns started to disappear below the horizon, blanketing the baron hovel in darkness.

2 weeks later

Mos Espa was crowded, as usual, and the writhing horde of bodies threatened to swallow Obi-Wan and Anakin whole. The blinding suns overhead made Obi-Wan squint, reminding him of the fresh bruise discoloring the ridge of his cheek and his gasp hissed through his teeth. Anakin snapped to attention, shifting forward in Obi-Wan’s arms to lightly rest his tiny hand on his jaw.

“It still hurt?” Anakin asked softly, carefully petting Obi-Wan’s face. He turned his head to look at the young boy, forcing a half-smile in hopes of reassuring the boy.

“A little but I’ll be okay,” Obi-Wan sighed, reaching up with his free hand to rub Anakin’s back.

“I sorry,” Anakin whimpered, his fingers still lightly running over Obi-Wan’s face.

“I know, my dear,” Obi-Wan whispered, patting his back as he turned his attention back to the dusty streets around them. Their Toydarian Master, Watto, was easily aggravated and Obi-Wan couldn’t for the life of him understand why he’d agree to take two slaves, one being a child, when he had such little patience. Anakin was a smart boy but he was also energetic and wild, meaning he had a knack for getting into trouble. Obi-Wan’s new shiner was proof of that.

“Hello, boys!” Obi-Wan snapped out of his head, darting his eyes in the direction of the voice, and immediately relaxed. Obi-Wan smiled softly as they approached the fruit stand, Jira’s kind smile lighting up their otherwise dreary day. They had met Jira within the first few days with Watto when Anakin had run off, nearly sending Obi-Wan off the deep end, and stopped at her fruit stand.

“Hi, Jira. How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan asked as he set Anakin on his feet, smiling when the boy hurried to hug the older woman.

“Warm,” she teased, ruffling Anakin’s hair.

“I thought that was a given here,” Obi-Wan chuckled, ducking under the canopy to hide from the scorching heat. Jira shook her head, finally looking up at Obi-Wan and her smile slowly fell away; Obi-Wan ducked his head, knowing what she was looking at.

“Oh, my dear boy, look at your face,” Jira breathed, her brows pinching together and Obi-Wan could feel her turmoil rippling through the Force.

“I’m alright,” Obi-Wan sighed, tenderly cupping the side of his face. Anakin had gone still, looking down at the sand under his feet, drawing a confused look from Jira. She continued to look between the two boys as realization slowly set in and she let out a long breath, reaching for Anakin’s hand.

“It doesn’t look too bad. The bruise should fade quickly,” she assured, training her gaze on Anakin’s guilty face. Obi-Wan sent her a thankful look before glancing over his shoulder to scan the surrounding market absently. “Now tell me, little one, how has your new home been?”

Obi-Wan let his mind wander as Jira and Anakin spoke softly in the background, ignoring the ache in the side of his face. Usually pushing his mind away from the physical world helped him recenter himself but the last few weeks had taken a toll. He was responsible for keeping Anakin fed, loved, and safe but it made him feel like he was carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. And on top of that, Anakin wasn’t making it any easier. He was wound so tight he felt his control starting to fray and no matter how hard he tried, Obi-Wan couldn’t seem to find balance. Obi-Wan didn’t blame Anakin for Watto’s short temper but sometimes he wished Anakin would take a break from testing every single one of his limits.

The hovel was quiet as the suns started their descent and Obi-Wan reached out in the Force, searching for Anakin as he prepared dinner. He could feel Anakin in his bedroom, his mind preoccupied with something and for some reason, that sent a jolt of terror through Obi-Wan. He stumbled into the doorframe, his wild eyes darting around the room until he found Anakin sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner. A pile of metal and wires sat in front of the boy as he tinkered with something so mangled Obi-Wan couldn’t tell what it originally was anymore. He didn’t regret the evenings they spent at his workbench; Obi-Wan enjoyed passing down the knowledge Shmi had gifted him to Anakin as well as the chance to bond with the boy. But Anakin was pushing the boundaries.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan snapped, scaring the boy so bad he threw whatever was in his hands.

“Uh, playin’,” Anakin stuttered, his vibrant blue eyes open wide, anxiety swirling below the surface.

“No, you weren’t,” Obi-Wan countered, darting his eyes to the pile in front of the boy. “Damnit, Anakin, I told you not to touch that stuff without me.”

“But ‘m bored,” Anakin whined, rolling his head back.

“You could’ve hurt yourself!” It wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had yelled at Anakin but this time felt different; there wasn’t a buffer between them anymore.

“I didn’t!” Anakin shouted, his features twisting in a scowl as he crossed his arms. Obi-Wan threw his hands in the air, spinning in place as if to leave but stopping himself.

“Just…” Obi-Wan started, pinching the bridge of his nose, “go wash up for dinner. Now.” Anakin didn’t move, continuing to glare at him and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his fingers hovering just over his nose as his features hardened. “I said, now, Anakin.” Obi-Wan could see the defiance in the boy’s eyes and already anticipated it would hurt, but he knew this was coming.

“No. You’re not my mom,” Anakin snapped, narrowing his eyes. It didn’t matter that Obi-Wan tried to prepare for it, Anakin’s words hit him like a punch to the chest. He already missed Shmi and felt inadequate but hearing it from Anakin’s mouth cut him deeper than his own self-doubt.

“Fine,” was all Obi-Wan could force out before he pushed away from the door. He felt the jolt of surprise in the Force but ignored it, returning to the kitchen and fighting to keep his expression neutral. His emotions felt like a tsunami crashing against the walls keeping him together as he finished the simple dinner with shaky hands. Obi-Wan set the bowl of porridge on the table, knowing Anakin needed to eat, and walked towards his bedroom in a daze. The mattress gave under his weight and he sat staring at the stone floor, waiting for the door to glide shut.

As soon as the door closed, the damn broke. Obi-Wan cradled his head in his hands, choking on relentless sobs as the weight of the galaxy crushed him. He’d never felt so alone.

Anakin faintly heard Obi-Wan moving around in the kitchen and he expected to see his guardian appear in his doorway again. The clanking in the kitchen stopped and Anakin’s eyebrows shot up his forehead when he heard the soft hiss of Obi-Wan’s door. He slowly got to his feet, tiptoeing to the doorway, and peaking into the front room, surprised to see a bowl on the table. Anakin quietly crossed the room, standing on his toes to look at the single bowl before furrowing his brow again, shifting his gaze to the closed bedroom door.

Anakin glanced back and forth between the bowl and Obi-Wan’s door, eventually wandering closer, only to stop short at the muffled sounds from inside. He’d heard Obi-Wan cry before, admittedly it was only once or twice, but it felt different this time; it made Anakin’s chest feel funny. He inched closer, gently nudging the door open a hair, shuffling closer to peer in, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gleaming rays of the setting suns. Anakin lingered on how much lighter Obi-Wan’s hair looked in the sunlight but a ragged, muffled sob jolted him out of his wandering thoughts.

Obi-Wan was hunched over, looking so small and broken that the sight made Anakin’s heart twinge. He couldn’t see his guardian’s face but the crackling stuttered sounds bleeding out from behind the barrier of Obi-Wan’s hands were enough to confirm Anakin’s suspicions. Obi-Wan was crying harder than Anakin had ever heard, his entire body shuddering with each choked inhale. Obi-Wan looked defeated and it finally hit Anakin that it was his fault. He hurt Obi-Wan’s feelings. Anakin didn’t really mean what he said, but he just missed his mom so much. He hadn’t wanted to leave her in the first place; it broke his heart when they were shuttled away from Gardulla’s palace. Anakin could still remember the way the Force swelled around Obi-Wan when he looked at Shmi, the love for his mother that was comparable to Anakin’s. Obi-Wan was just as much Shmi’s son as Anakin and he felt even worse about his careless words the longer he thought about it. Obi-Wan was doing his best to fill the void left by his mother and Anakin loved him a little more for trying.

Anakin nudged the door open a little wider, moving as silently as possible as he slipped into the room. Obi-Wan must not have noticed his presence because he stayed hunched over, his broken sobs growing softer. Anakin stopped a few paces away, dragging his blurry eyes over the side of his guardian’s face, chewing on his lower lip. Obi-Wan jumped and his head snapped up when Anakin’s small hand rested on his trembling shoulder and he almost regretted drawing the young man’s attention. Bright red blood vessels spiderwebbed over the whites of his eyes, making the blue seem more vibrant. The skin around his eyes was puffy and glistening trails covered his cheeks; tears collected on his chin when he lifted his head, sending a stab of pain into Anakin’s heart. Obi-Wan was frozen, only blinking a few times as Anakin shuffled closer.

“Obi,” he whispered, hesitantly wrapping a hand around Obi-Wan’s fingers and tugging them away from his face. “I-I sorry, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it.” Anakin’s voice pitched up desperately as he squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand tighter, his eyes opening wide as tears threatened to fall.

“Ani,” he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his shoulders slump. “I…it’s alright.”

“No,” Anakin cried, violently shaking his head and wedging himself between Obi-Wan’s knees. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it. I promise.”

“Sh, sh, I know, it’s alright,” Obi-Wan whispered hoarsely, cupping the back of his head, and swiping his thumb over the skin behind Anakin’s ear. “I-I’ve been upset recently and it just…it pushed me over the edge.”

“Why?” Anakin sniffled, leaning into the hand on his head and holding Obi-Wan’s gaze.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, his breath hitching with the remnants of his sobs, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this.” He cut off his next sentence, seeming to suddenly realize he was talking to a child, his eyes widened briefly. “I-I didn’t mean to say that.” Anakin gently rested his hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek, flinching when his guardian’s eyes closed, a pinched, sorrowful expression creasing his face.

“It okay to be scared, Obi.” The strangled laugh caught him off guard and when Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open, they looked a bit softer, some of the redness fading.

“I feel like I should be telling you that,” he laughed dryly, sniffling quietly and shifting his weight to sit up straighter. “I only want what’s best for you, Ani, and I’m worried I’m not enough.”

“You are,” Anakin whispered, mindlessly running his fingers over the ridge of Obi-Wan’s bruised cheek. At a loss for words, Anakin reached for Obi-Wan’s life force, pressing against it with his own, pushing his complicated emotions at the young man in an indiscriminate rush. He cherished, idolized, and cared for Obi-Wan more than he could ever articulate.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, tugging Anakin closer, enveloping the boy in a physical and spiritual hug. “Thank you. I-I needed to know that.” Anakin nestled into Obi-Wan’s chest, their Force signatures curling together, strengthening their bond. Obi-Wan let out a stuttering breath and rested his chin on the boy’s head but Anakin wasn’t sure if the closeness was for his sake or Obi-Wan’s. Neither one tried to pull away, losing themselves in the blurred space between the Force and their physical bodies.

If they had nothing else, they at least had each other.

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi #anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars au #young!obi wan #young!anakin #star wars #star wars prequels

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vercopaanir · 5 years ago

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Of the Mudhorn

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 16

Masterlist Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: While Kuiil takes care to save the life of the wounded fathier, you and the Mandalorian care for the foundlings in the desert, and you learn the secret of the child.

Words: 5.1k

Rating/Warnings: T, maybe for some romantic themes? I don’t know, man.

Notes: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read and left comments. I cannot believe how this story has grown so exponentially! It could not have happened without your support. I am currently planning another PP character story. I’m not sure when it’ll be published, but I may be posting a preview of it sometime in the near future!

Please check out the newest artwork for this story here!

AO3

Recovering from your injuries has kept you asleep for a day and a half, so you’re not remotely tired when Kuiil offers you, once again, the use of his sleeping quarters. He had prepared a humble meal for you and the two children, and the Mandalorian sat quietly across from the table, one boot resting on his knee as he helps the petal eared infant in his lap drink bantha milk from a small clay cup. The Ugnaught speaks of the peace that had come to the valley, the steady work of his moisture farm, and the temperament of the blurrgs while you fill yourself on warm food and safety.

You stand to clean the table, grateful that he has lit several lanterns in the spacious living quarters so you can see better. When you gather the dishes, you don’t miss the way the two siblings yawn, sinking their elbows onto the table, but what surprises you most is the sudden jerk of the Mandalorian’s helmet when his head begins to nosedive forward.

Rounding the table, you gently extract the baby from his arms and smile softly when his visor tilts up toward you. Laying a cloth over your shoulder, you pat the child’s back with firm thumps and whisper, “Why don’t you take the bed? I’m not going to sleep for a time.”

When he doesn’t even put up an argument, you know he’s exhausted his physical limitations. He pushes himself to stand with a weary exhale from deep within his chest, and he practically drags himself to the back of the tent. He pauses as you turn away, and you hear his deep baritone rumble, “Come on.”

Corde and Venka slip from their seats at the table, gratefully falling in line behind the bounty hunter and rubbing their eyes with chubby fists. You smile when their familiar shadows disappear behind the thick curtain partition, and you smother a laugh to hear the baby on your shoulder belch and giggle triumphantly.

“I will tend the fathier, now. You are welcome to join me,” Kuiil says with a shrewd look, and you slide the baby comfortably into the crook of your arm, letting your free hand rest upon the Uganaught’s shoulder. He leads you outside, across the small yard to the blurrg’s pen. He shows you the stool by his workbench, and you set the child on the ground to toddle near your feet, enjoying the cool desert breeze while Kuiil begins sorting through husbandry supplies. “Will you tell me where this creature came from, and the children, or will I be left to guess?”

“I would be surprised if you couldn’t,” you say, smiling when he snorts and sets himself to work. The animal seems too spent to be able to fight or fuss under the handling of the Uganaught’s care, and you begin to tell the tale of everything that had happened after your last visit to Avarla-7.

Kuiil is an adept listener, sharing that quality with the Mandalorian. He doesn’t interrupt you, and he only makes affirming noises to assure you he is listening while he washes, tends, and treats the animal’s wounds. When you get to the story of Canto Bight, of your time in the stables, he returns to the workbench to remove his gloves and sit across from you.

“The children have burns on their hands, from what I suspect are brands. This is not uncommon in slave trade,” Kuiil says, and if he sees your face drain of color, if he notices the trembling that takes over your hands, he is too polite to comment on it. “I suspect, had the Mandalorian not come, you would wear a matching set.”

“Part of me will never let go of the guilt that he came back,” you confess, lowering your voice, and your chin to look down at your hands that were pristine beneath the lamplight. “So much could have gone wrong.”

“And do you think the small comfort you might have achieved would compare to the loss the Mandalorian would have taken?”

Kuiil has never spoken to you unkindly, but the terse, unforgiving growl makes you feel rather sick. You turn your eyes toward the child that is currently hopping after a toad that is nearly as big as he is, and you bite your lip. “I-I don’t know.”

“I do. And I suspect he does, as well.”

You watch the dim shape of the child at play, his world once again tilted decidedly in his favor without any knowledge of the hungry eyes following him from every corner of the galaxy. For something so small, so pure of heart, it overwhelms you, this knowledge that there is evil in the universe searching to snuff his little life out. Your hands curl in your lap, and you only realize you are gritting your teeth when your jaw begins to ache.

“I thought, when I first came here, that I was being traded a life of servitude for honest work,” you whisper, your voice beginning to choke with the tightness of contrition. A tear pearls in your eye, and when it falls to land upon your dress, the little child turns to look up at you as if he heard its descent. “I feel as if I somehow unwittingly cheated the universe. That one day the Maker will look down, see the excess of my happiness, and take it all back.”

The sounds of the frogs and insects and the quiet stream of the wind in the air is all there is to hear between two former slaves, for you know that Kuiil knows your fear first hand. There is nothing he can say, wise or brazen, that will ever quell the haunting in your heart of being a stranger without the yolk of servitude.

“Perhaps, your reward is great because you have saved two more souls from the worries you yourself now carry,” Kuiil grouses, looking down at his workbench and beginning again the task of organizing it. You turn your pale eyes towards him as he begins sorting through parts, fishing out a dirty rag to wipe the workspace down with. “And should the Maker find fault in that, I would no longer wish to know them.”

The child toddles up to you, gently hugging your ankle and pressing his face into the fabric of your dress. You lift him up into your arms, kissing his nose before pressing your brow to his. Six little fingers touch your cheeks, and you sniffle and smile. You stand slowly, the Ugnaught’s words going round and round in your head.

“Thank you, Kuiil. For everything.”

He says nothing, and you sit quietly until the sky nearly begins to lighten on the horizon. You turn towards the tent, the child nuzzling against your chest and yawning sweetly. You step quietly, slipping your boots off near the door and hunching down as you part the partition back. Upon the bed, the Mandalorian is flat on his back dressed in full armor, snoring quietly through his helmet, which weighs his neck down at an odd angle. Corde is asleep beneath his arm, hugging his middle and burying her face into the fabric of his shirt. Venka is curled at the foot of the bed, and you cover your lips to keep from laughing at the sight. Tucking the child into his pram, you gently nudge it so it floats silently beside the bed, and turn to the mess of bodies you now face.

You gently begin to situate the small boy, lifting his head to slip a folded blanket beneath his cheek to serve as a pillow. Next, you remove the Mandalorian’s boots, taking care with every buckle and tie so you can set them quietly on the ground. Just as you brush Corde’s hair from her warm cheek, a gloved hand grabs your wrist on instinct.

“It’s still early,” you murmur, lowering yourself so you perch on the edge of the bed by his hip, feeling the strength give in his fingers where he holds you. “Go back to sleep.”

His hand falls back onto the bed, and just like that, he’s out once again. You smile, gently laying down beside him, heat flushing your face at being so close. You’re on the edge of the cot itself, and you can’t help but remember his words from the hotel room when he took the space nearest the door. Your head pillows on his bicep, but you can’t be more comfortable than you are in that moment. You expect to be by yourself when you wake up, as is common with the bounty hunter you’ve grown to know and share your space with, but when next you open your eyes, there is an early morning light streaming through the hut’s meshing that catches on the beskar vambrace draping over your abdomen.

Quiet breathing through the vocoder is nestled in your hair that’s strewn across the pillow, and when you shift just slightly, you realize that someone has covered both of you with a blanket. The light is enough for you to see that neither child that had been asleep the night before remains where you left them, and when you look at the pram and the open shutters, it also sits empty.

Raising a hand to your forehead, you slowly sit up, fighting a yawn, before gently moving the dead weight of the arm pinning you down. There’s a muffled snort from under the helmet sinking back into the pillow, and his hand flexes on top of the blanket.

“Mphf-what’re you doing?” His voice is a rasp, scratchy and rough with sleep, and you wonder if he rested at all while you were recovering. You lay a hand on his arm soothingly, rubbing your thumb in circles. His voice is almost a plea, “Lay…lay back down.”

A smile dances at the corners of your mouth, and you whisper, “All the children are gone.” The utterly unimpressed grunt from under the helmet tells you exactly what the Mandalorian thinks of that, and your grin widens. “Sleep more if you like, but I would feel guilty leaving our host alone to mind all three of them.”

“As if they’d slow him down,” he mutters, but you feel him sit up behind you as you let your feet drop to the floor. You let your world settle upright, your balance and wakefulness coming together as the chill of the desert is chased away by the sun.

A gentle pressure between your shoulders inclines your head to turn, finding the Mandalorian pressing his helmet ponderously against your back.

“Really, you can keep sleeping,” you whisper, your heart aching at the sound of such a deep sigh.

His helmet angles to the side, and you feel his vambrace tuck beneath your breasts as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you backwards against him. Your head falls back into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and for a moment, you let yourself go limp, enjoying being handled.

“A tempting offer,” the rough baritone rumbles quietly. “But will you make it worth my while?”

Instinctively, your legs press together at the same time your lips part to breathe. Your heart begins to pound, heavy and fervent when his other gloved hand comes up to cup the front of your throat. There’s only the barest tease of pressure, and you know he can feel how your pulse is singing beneath the leather of his glove. Your own hands fall, resting firmly on his thighs that crowd either side of you, and you swallow hard.

Your breath rattles in your throat, and you lick your lips, turning your face toward his helmet that presses gently to your temple. “I…I don’t have anything to offer.”

His hum is laced with the static of his modulator, and you feel it deep in your belly. His arm around your waist tightens, and you bite your lip near enough to bleed when he drags you back hard against his body, leaving not even air between you.

“Don’t underestimate yourself, ner Mesh’la.” His voice is a growl now, so quiet that you can only hear it from beneath the helmet, and your entire body shivers when the beskar nuzzles your jaw, just beneath your ear. “You could have me on my knees, if you wished.”

You open your mouth, whether to whisper a plea to continue or beg him to stop, but both of your attentions draw to the giggling coo near the partition of the sleeping quarters.

The child stares up at the both of you, large, dark eyes blinking sweetly, and one hand drags his stuffed bantha behind him on the ground. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, and you feel a warm flush when you can feel the Mandalorian’s own chuckle in his chest at your back. His arms fall away from you, and you push yourself from him and the bed to stand up. Immediately, the child toddles at full speed toward you, huffing excitedly and waving his free hand upward.

Leaning down, you lift the infant up into your arms, and he drops his toy in deference to being up high, immediately grabbing tiny fistfulls of your hair in his fists. The Mandalorian moves around the small space, and you blow sweet kisses into the baby’s face until he falls forward, pressing his open mouth against your chin and gurgling happily.

“He missed you,” the Mandalorian says, his voice quiet as he sits to put his boots on. You tilt your head toward the child, bumping foreheads with him and smiling when he tries to kiss your nose next. He achieves biting the tip and grinning up at you proudly. The warrior’s voice catches when he says, “I didn’t think he would stop crying.”

Your heart sinks, and your smile falls, looking down at the little one in your arms to his father who busies himself with the ties of his boots. His view changes when you step between his feet, and he looks up at you through his visor. You think you can see his throat shift when he swallows.

“You’re a good father, you know,” you murmur, one hand drifting to cup the chiseled arch of one side of his helmet. You hear him exhale, his breath shaking when you smile. “Whether I’m here or not.”

His glove comes up to cup the back of your hand. You linger a moment before you turn and duck from behind the partition, carrying the child through the modest living quarters. You know your hair is tangled and your dress is wrinkled, but you step into your boots and begin preparing a small meal for the baby that hangs in the crook of one elbow. You want to give the Mandalorian privacy to eat or drink before you take up more space and time in the tent. The sun is shining bright, and when you step outside, you can hear Corde giggling from somewhere in the distance near the blurrg pen.

You sit at the workbench on the same stool you occupied the night before, leaning the child back so he could hold the little cup full of cold bantha milk comfortably and feed in the shade. Heavy footfalls bring your face up, and you smile at the blurry shape of your host.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Kuiil greets, picking up a tool from the bench in front of you. He seems to linger over the child, who blinks owlishly at him. “He’s eating more these days.”

“He is,” you agree, patting the child’s tummy with affection. “I think he must be going through a growth spurt.”

“Perhaps it is from his power,” Kuiil ruminates, rounding the workbench to the other side.

This draws your attention, and you blink slowly. “W-What power?”

Kuiil pauses, looking across the bench at you with a hard frown, his bushy brows lowering in confusion. “You do not know? The Mandalorian did not…tell you?” he demands gruffly, and you’re left feeling not unlike a fish, your mouth opening and closing helplessly. “Did he not speak of the mudhorn?”

You wrack your brain for any detail you may have missed from the story you’ve grown so fondly of thinking about, but you can’t recall anything about the child. He had simply told you the child had been present when a mudhorn was defeated.

Kuiil seems to interpret this misinformation from your face and throws the tool down so noisily, the child jumps and nearly drops the cup he drinks from. The Uganaught storms off toward the tent, and you flush with worry, sure you’ve just opened a door that was meant to stay closed. You heave a sigh, looking down at the little one you cradle, sighing, “I think I got your father in trouble. What could he be talking about, hm?”

The baby simply blinks up at you, his eyes falling slowly with drowsiness, and you can’t help the smile on your face. Movement out of your periphery draws your eye, and you see the Mandalorian stomping out of the tent, Venka trailing meekly behind him. The bounty hunter collapses near a small fire pit, his rifle across his knees with a cloth. The little boy sits near him, and Kuiil emerges a moment later, huffing up to you.

“That man is more muscle than sense, at times,” he growls at you, to which you blush and bite down a grin. “So I shall tell you the tale.”

Just as he had listened to your story the night before, you spend the entirety of his recollection sitting quietly and attentively. You only move to set the empty cup aside when the child has finished his meal, lifting him to your shoulder to burp him. Kuiil pauses to offer you a cleaning cloth, and you grow still when he describes the Mandalorian’s experience with the mudhorn.

“I…I don’t understand,” you murmur, looking down at the little one who’s nuzzling against your neck sleepily. “How is that possible?”

“I have heard stories, myself,” Kuiil rumbles, watching the little one dozing against you. “But they are not answers. I do not know what is true, but I do know that the Mandalorian would not lie about this young one.”

You lay one hand against the child’s back, feeling him breathe softly and curl against you for warmth. It doesn’t seem real, like something out of a dream, but it begins to fall into place with what you do know.

Why would the Empire seek out such a small innocent without something to gain? Something beyond what you could ever know. What does surprise you is how you feel no difference for the little one you cradle near your heart. He is still the same, sweet being you had given your heart to, and you press a kiss to his brow.

“I’m going to lay him down,” you murmur, standing and crossing the yard to the hut. You can feel eyes on you, following your every movement, but your focus is on the child you tuck into the pram waiting inside the tent. You leave the shutters open, in case he cries or wakes up to find you, and you arrange the blanket so it keeps out any unwanted chill.

Now with the sleeping quarters free, you take a moment to undress and change your clothes, sighing in relief at the feeling of clean, unrumpled fabric against your skin. You work the tangles out of your hair with a brush from your bag, and you splash cold water on your face from the faucet, taking care not to use too much.

As you dry your face, you can hear a quiet, rasping voice just outside the tent.

“Kandosii,” the Mandalorian praises, and you step close to the edge of the tent by the door to listen. “Again.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and you frown, wondering if you perhaps can’t hear as well as you think you do. When you peek around the edge of the door, you can see Venka leaning close to the Mandalorian by the fire pit, but you can’t make out anything that they’re doing. You step outside, trying to keep your feet light, but both of them look up as you approach.

When they lean away, there is nothing you can see, save for some scratchings on the ground in the rocky sand. The rifle still rests across the Mandalorian’s knees, the barrel pointing away from the boy.

“What are you two doing?”

You kneel down beside Venka, one hand brushing the boy’s shoulder companionably. He turns his face, still round with baby fat, towards the Mandalorian who nods encouragingly to him.

Venka reaches towards you and takes your hand, and you watch him curiously as he turns your palm upward. He uses one finger and begins tapping your palm in an uneven, stilted rhythm. You blink, glancing from his blurry outline to the Mandalorian’s shadow, which looks on silently.

The tapping stops abruptly, and Venka’s hands fall to his knees, now turning back to the warrior with the eagerness of a student. The gleaming visor nods once in approval, and the boy beams.

“I…I don’t understand,” you laugh softly, curling your fingers where they still hover upwards.

“It is called Dadita,” the Mandalorian explains, standing up with a ponderous sigh and rounding the fire pit to stand beside you. He uses the pronged barrel of his rifle to begin making long dashes and shorter nicks in the earth. “Every dash and beat represents a letter in Basic Galactic. It is a code we use in battle, to disguise messages so enemies cannot decipher our intentions.”

Your furrowed brows slowly lift up with understanding, and Venka takes your hand again, quickly tapping against your palm. The look of pure joy on the little boy’s face brings tears to your eyes, watching him tap earnestly to communicate with you. To speak and to be understood after so long of having no voice

The Mandalorian takes a knee beside you, watching as the boy taps his message quickly.

“What is he saying?” you ask softly, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“‘I love my sister. We are happy.’”

Your hand not held by the child covers your mouth, more tears falling when you close your eyes. Venka holds your hand with both of his now, looking worriedly between you and the Mandalorian, and you feel a warm, gloved hand resting on your shoulder. He nods at the little boy once, and Venka stands up and wraps his arms around your neck. You gather him close, hugging him tightly, and cup the back of his head. He seems content to be held, so you embrace him until your tears dry salty tracks on your cheeks before you kiss his mop of fluffy curls.

“You will have to teach us all how to speak it,” you whisper, turning to face the Mandalorian. His visor bows silently in agreement, and you pet the boy’s hair back into place where you’d mussed it. “Go on, don’t-don’t worry about me.”

Venka hesitates, glancing between you both before running off towards Kuiil where he’s welding at his workbench. You sit beside the armored warrior silently, eyes closed and breathing deeply. You feel something shift within you that you had thought was unmovable, and now you can’t imagine what to do with yourself without those surrounding you.

“Why…why didn’t you tell me about the child?” you ask, your voice half a croak from the tears clogging your throat. You feel the Mandalorian sigh even though you can’t hear it. “About what he did? What he can do?”

The Mandalorian looks down at the rocky stand you both kneel in, resting the butt of his rifle on the ground and leaning on it. He’s quiet for such a long time, you wonder if he’s going to ignore your question, but you also know for someone who speaks so rarely, he chooses his words carefully.

Finally, he whispers, “I was…afraid you would leave, if you knew.”

Whatever you were prepared for him to say, it was not this.

“What?” you breathe, eyes widening. You hear the man beneath the armor let out a deep groan, and he lets his helmet fall forward against his rifle, as if in pain. You sit forward, grabbing the lip of his helmet and pulling his visor around to face you. He tenses immediately, and you blink the tears from your lashes. “Tell me, p-please.”

He lets out a strangled, quiet noise that’s near a whimper, and his hand not holding his rifle gently wraps around your wrist. “I was afraid you would leave if you knew how dangerous it was to…to be close to him. To us.” There’s a heavy, loaded silence for a brief moment before he whispers over the strain of his leather glove that tightens around his gun, “I-I don’t think we can go back to that, Cyare. I don’t think I can.”

With the firm grip on his helmet, you draw him down to you, pressing his helmet to your forehead, and you whisper, “You will never have to.”

The Dadita lessons begin the next day, when the sun is bright in the morning without hurting your eyes. You think he must have prepared for it, as you direct Venka how to wash the dishes from breakfast when he walks back into the hut carrying the drooling infant in one arm, asking the three of you to come outside when you’re finished.

You barely have Corde’s hair brushed before the two children are dragging you outside. The Mandalorian stands near the barn where the blurrgs are chomping upon great swaths of desert flora and vegetation, and the baby toddles after a rogue frog hopping about in the shade, giggling in its chase.

His amban rifle rests in the crook of his arm, the barrel opened at the end where it hangs from his elbow showing plain for you and anyone else that it isn’t loaded. He uses the pronged tip of the barrel to draw in the sand the markings for every letter in Galactic Basic, only stepping away when Kuiil asks for his assistance with a task or chore.

The code itself is not hard for you to master, but understanding it being spoken back to you is the true challenge. Venka picks it up with ease, tapping in your palm with rapid fire fluency. You huff, amusement and exasperation coloring your face as you shake your head.

“You are too clever by half for me,” you tell him, trapping his hand in yours and tickling his side. He wheezes, dancing away before coming back to you. “Alright, then, slower this time.”

Kuiil takes a break from farm work with you near the barn, watching as he eats a humble meal beside the Mandalorian of the children tapping various objects and upon different surfaces to speak to one another. At one point, Corde skips into the barn to tap through the wall, sharing secrets with her brother, and you move to sit beside the Ugnaught, your head beginning to ache from memorizing so many dashes and dots.

“Have you ever had to use this before?” you ask, folding your hands in your lap. Kuiil glances the way of the Mandalorian at your question, and you notice his fingers tapping along his cuirasse pause. “In battle or…otherwise?”

Venka runs from the wall of the barn around to the door to join his sister, ignoring your call to him not to touch anything inside.

“No.” He sounds like he’s frowning, thinking back to some memory he’d rather not bite into. “Though it would have been an advantage if I had.”

“There are not many Mandalorians to use it with,” Kuiil says, by way of an explanation as he gathers up the small plate he was eating from. “But now you have some to speak it with.”

The Mandalorian watches the Ugnaught amble off, and you smile after him, feeling warmth from the words. When you turn back around, you find the bounty hunter kneeling beside you, and you suck in a breath of surprise at how silent and how quick he is. He doesn’t leave you room when he cups your chin with one hand and lifts the edge of his helmet to his nose, stealing a kiss as soon as you’re both alone.

Your hands fly up to his helmet, holding the carved arches where his cheeks would be, and you can’t swallow the tiny moan that escapes you when he parts your lips beneath his. With one hand now free, he slides it to rest upon the flesh of your waist, the other drawing up your jaw to cup the back of your neck. You thought you had dreamed the sweetness you’d tasted upon the Razor Crest, and the urgency of his warm mouth leaves you floating the rest of the day.

He exploits his stealth around you more as the week passes. Stealing a kiss behind the barn or the curtain of the sleeping quarters becomes more sought after than water in the desert, always careful of his helmet or the light to protect his face. Your fingers find purchase somewhere new to titillate you-in the frothy, soft curls beneath his helm, on his slim waist beneath his cloak, even once, when the children slept in the mid-afternoon, upon the buckle of his belt to pull him closer when he crowds you behind Kuiil’s hut.

It becomes distracting in the heat, so you busy yourself with teaching the children things to keep them from idling and to keep yourself from gazing too long at the armored bounty hunter never more than a few steps behind you. Venka becomes an accomplished tailor under your patient instruction, hemming the baby’s robe while Corde assists the Mandalorian in bathing the small child. You marvel at the tenacity the little children have, following their guardian’s shadow and watching him with all the admiration of students.

One evening, they both go out with the Mandalorian so he can teach them how to look for tracks in the desert terrain, and you help Kuiil feed the blurrgs. When they return, stained with dust and dirt and their eyes brighter than crystals, you can’t help but laugh at the tired slump in the warrior’s pauldrons. When you can’t help a giggle, he grabs you around the middle with greedy hands and wipes his dirty helmet against your forehead, smearing dirt all over your face as you shriek with laughter.

You watch him lumber away, tossing Corde over his shoulder without ceremony while she screams giggles of her own, Venka trailing after him as he heads into the hut. Watching them, you hold such a pain within your chest unlike anything else you have ever felt that it brings tears to your eyes.

How could something you have never had before become all you know?

Mando’a Translations:

Ner Mesh'la - My Beauty

Kandosii - “Well done.”

Cyare - Beloved

Dadita - A code used by Mandalorians, similar to Morse code.

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#The Lovely Moons #The Mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #Din Djarin is a tired dad and lovestruck husband #i know i said tonight #but as i said #TIME DOESN'T EXIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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buckyodinson · 5 years ago

Text

A Clan of Three (Mandalorian x fem!Reader)

This is dedicated to @tlittlet (hope you don’t mind me tagging you in this) - I saw your post saying:

‘I wish I could read a mando x reader where the reader is all shy but passionate and mando craving for touch. But like, I know I can write it but I don’t want to write it, I want to read it, do you know what I mean? 😫’ and I kinda ran away with it?

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve written in about a year and a half so it may be a little rusty, and it’s based vaguely on the post mentioned above. I just love Mando a lot right now, and this is the first time in a long time I’ve actually felt compelled to write something, so I hope some people out there can enjoy this, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Feedback is appreciated!!

Word count: 2.6k

There was a lot left unspoken on the Razor Crest as of late. You’d been travelling with Din and the Child for just over a year now, and barriers had slowly broken down in that time. A lot had been shared between the two of you, but a lot had been kept under wraps on both sides, through fear of rejection. You loved both Din and the Child with every fibre of your being, and it tore you apart trying not to just lay all your cards on the table, but you were terrified the gamble was too risky.

You would often be left on the Crest while Din fetched his latest bounty, staying to watch over the Child and keep him out of harms way. You felt a true maternal instinct, and while watching over the Child while he slept or played with whatever he could get his hands on in the cockpit, your thoughts would drift to the signet on Din’s pauldron - a clan of two - and how desperately you wished to be a clan of three.

You loved Din. You knew as much. You knew from very early on, after a few weeks of settling into life with the pair of them on the Crest, you knew this was a life you could get used to. And you thanked the Maker that you could spend at least part of your life travelling the galaxy with two who you truly and genuinely loved. You wanted to let him know how you felt, but you knew The Way. And you knew you couldn’t put Din in a situation like that - partly because you didn’t want to disrespect the life he swore to uphold when he swore The Creed, and partly because you were terrified he didn’t feel the same, and he’d drop you off at the next system to avoid the awkwardness that would likely ensue.

So you kept quiet. You would often lie awake at night, thinking of endless scenarios of what life would be like if he knew. If he felt the same. If he took his helmet off, abandoning his bounty hunting life to settle down on a planet somewhere in the outer rim, just the three of you. A clan of three. There goes that thought again, and just as quickly as it enters your mind, it’s snatched away when you scold yourself for getting carried away. You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, and you know it, but you’re too far gone to care.

Unbeknownst to you, Din would also often lie awake in the safe confines of his quarters, with his helmet removed, wondering how the soft touch of your hands would feel on his face. How your lips would fit against his. How perfect your body would slot into his as you laid together, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. These ephemeral thoughts calmed him after a long day, but they also brought pangs of sadness, knowing that they were only his imagination. She’d never feel the same. After all, how could she? All she’s ever known is the cold, unforgiving glare of Beskar. She’s never seen the longing on his face when she’s idly hanging up a small decoration she bought at a market, his mind racing at the thought of a domestic life with her. Nor had she seen the soft smile he can’t seem to shake when he catches her playing or chatting away with the Child.

He craved her touch. He’s only felt it in fleeting moments. Usually when one of them is badly injured after a particularly nasty run-in with a bounty. On many occasions, he’s been badly hit with a blaster in places he can’t patch up himself, and she silently reaches for the med-kit and beckons for him to sit with her. She removes his Beskar so softly, as if it isn’t one of the toughest materials around, and it makes his heart ache. She works mostly in silence, other than to ask him if it’s okay to lift his undershirt. She always asks. She doesn’t have to, and she knows, he’s told her so many times. But still she does. And that longing creeps into his entire body every time, knowing she truly respects his way of life.

When she works, her delicate hands clean the injury with feather-light touches, using a bacta spray to help with further healing, before applying a bandage. Even these light touches cause shivers to run up Din’s spine, and he knows it’s a ridiculous reaction to have, given the circumstances, but nobody has ever been so gentle with him. Nobody has ever taken the time to make sure he is okay. Once, he was so exhausted from a fight with a bounty that ended badly, that after he’d taken all his armour off, dropped it to the floor, and let you tend to his wounds, he’d fallen asleep where he’d been sat, in the hull of the ship. When he woke, he found a blanket draped over him, and all his armour was neatly arranged on the nearby shelves, seemingly having been polished. He was speechless. It was such a sweet gesture on your behalf, he didn’t know how to react. He wished he knew how to thank you for all you did for him. But he just didn’t know how.

When you helped with his injuries, you never failed to notice the almost imperceptible hitches in his breath, and small sighs he let out as you worked. You never questioned them, but they made you wonder when the last time he was ever touched by another person. If he had been touched by another person since he swore the Creed, and vowed to live his life shielded from the world.

The day came when things left unspoken finally bubbled to the surface. Din had been out looking for a bounty, and had been gone for several days. You grew worried very quickly, as even the toughest of jobs brought him back to the Crest within a day or two. But it was four days since you’d last seen or heard from him. The Child was beginning to grow restless, being cooped up in the ship. You spent most of your time pacing the cockpit, trying to contact him, to no avail. You knew it was dangerous to leave the ship, and leave the Child unattended, so you had to settle for staying in the Crest and praying to the Maker that you’d see him emerge from the tree-line any minute.

You slept very lightly while Din was away, any and every noise rousing you, hoping it was the ramp lowering, and Din coming back. After five days of nothing, you finally heard that familiar hiss of the ramp to the Crest opening, and you all but sprinted from your cot to the ramp. You were ecstatic that he had returned, but also terrified at what state he may be in. You were right to feel this way, because once the ramp lowered and you caught a glimpse at him, you knew he was in trouble. He was leaning heavily on his left leg, and you ran down the ramp before he all but collapsed into your arms. You made quick work of dragging him into the ship and closing the ramp door.

You set him on the floor and made quick work of removing his armour, disregarding your usual tentative movements. The more armour you removed, the more blood and grime you noticed on his underclothes, and the sight made you gasp.

You spoke softly but with a sense of urgency, “Din… I’m going to take your underclothes off. Is that okay?”

You received no reply.

“Din? Can you hear me?” You tried again, but to no avail. You reached one hand under his neck to support it while you reached your other under his jaw, and could still feel a strong pulse, which calmed your nerves ever so slightly. But upon pulling your hand other hand back to rest his head on the ground, you noticed your hand was covered in blood. You began to really panic now, not knowing how to proceed with the situation. He needed serious medical attention, but you didn’t want to overstep the clear boundaries he lived by.

You knew his safety came first, but you also didn’t want to jeopardise his religion and risk him never being able to put the helmet back on again. So you removed his underclothes and got to work on all the injuries on his body first. His chest rising and falling as you worked comforted you by a fraction, but the lack of sighs and grunts made you acutely aware that his head injury needed treating soon.

You quickly disappeared to your room and ripped a strip of fabric from the bottom of your blanket before coming back and dropping onto your knees by Din’s side yet again. You gathered all the materials you needed before securing the fabric around your eyes and tying it in the back of your head. You took a deep breath before reaching for Din’s helmet. You pressed a switch, and heard the hiss as you slowly lifted it from his head and placed it softly on the ground next to you.

You lifted him slightly and stuck a leg out underneath his shoulders, so you could feel the back of his head and assess the injury. You located to wound fairly easily, and while it wasn’t large, it was bleeding a lot, so you applied a bacta spray to it after wiping his hair first. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you ran your hands through his hair. You slowly felt his face using the hand not covered in blood, checking for any smaller injuries that may be there. You found nothing, and rested your hand on his cheek while you sighed, hoping you’d done enough for the meantime. You were shocked when you felt Din’s hand cover yours, and you immediately went to pull your hand away but his grip tightened.

He cleared his throat and croaked out a small “Thank you”. You smiled at his unfiltered voice, the first time you’d ever heard it. And while it was barely there, and scratchy, after all he’d been through, it was still him, and you couldn’t help but feel lucky to have heard it in all it’s beauty.

“It’s okay… I could probably do a better job of it, but with the blindfold, there’s only so much I can-“

“Take it off..” he whispered, and you flinched back in shock, not knowing if you heard him correctly.

After a beat of silence, his hand came up to rest on your cheek, mirroring your actions, and he slowly lifted the material covering your eyes. He chuckled and coughed a little when he noticed your eyes screwed shut. He came to rest his hand on your cheek again, the unfamiliar feel of his skin warm against yours, as his thumb moved slowly across your cheekbone. “You can open your eyes, cyar’ika… it’s okay.”

You slowly obliged, and you were completely taken aback by his features. His soft brown eyes looked up at you, and despite the pain that must be coursing through his body, he was smiling at you. You took notice of his curly brown locks, some of which were stuck to his forehead. You brushed them away, before running your fingers down his hooked nose, to rest on his lips, where he lightly kissed your fingertips. Before you knew it, tears were falling from your eyes, and his face contorted into one of concern.

“I’m sorry, Din.” You breathed out as he swiped his thumb under your eye.

“What do you have to be sorry for, mesh’la?” He spoke, his voice a little stronger now.

“The Creed. I’ve seen your face. You can’t go back now. I’m so sorry.” You hung your head, and felt him slowly manoeuvre himself to sit up in front of you.

“What if I don’t want to go back?” He all but whispered, lifting your chin.

You met his gaze again and was frozen in place as he lent towards you and slowly brought your lips to his. You barely had time to react before he pulled away, your lips almost chasing his as he smiled against you.

“I’ve been thinking for a long while now, about you… about us. I get this unfamiliar feeling deep inside me when I think of you. When I see you with the Child. At first I dismissed it, thinking that was just how it felt to finally have a real friend. But then I would get worried sick when I was out looking for bounties... worried about you. Worried that something would happen to you here in the Crest and I’d be none the wiser. Then I realised. It was love.” He fell into silence, and you both sat there for what felt like an eternity, comfortable to just be there with each other, no more words needing to be exchanged.

He finally spoke up again, “I never acted on it, always telling myself ‘This is the way’. Telling myself this is the life I was born to live, it’s not fair to drag you into it. I never thought, for a second, that you could feel the same. But seeing you now, scared that I might be dying, but still blindfolding yourself to respect the Creed… that was all the confirmation I needed. Tell me I’m right?” He pulled away slightly to look in your eyes, and you saw tears brimming in his.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, before leaning in to kiss him back. Your lips touched, and in this kiss, you felt everything that had gone unspoken this past year. You broke apart and whispered against his lips, “I’ve always loved you Din.”

He whispered something back in Mando’a, and while you didn’t understand it, you’re sure you knew what he meant. You leaned back to look at him once more, and as you brushed his hair from his face, he winced slightly. His injuries dawned on you again, and you slowly rose, helping him to his cot. You fetched him a glass of water, something to dull the pain, and something to eat, and out of habit, started to leave, when he grabbed your wrist and silently pleaded with you to stay. He moved to lay on his side and you joined him in his cot, resting your back against his chest. He closed his eyes, and couldn’t quite believe you were here in his cot, laying pressed against him, like he dreamed of not long ago. He remembers a time when he would chastise himself for thinking you would ever feel this way, and yet here you were.

The door to his quarters opened with a hiss and the Child moved slowly over to the bed, looking at the pair of you with his wide eyes. You leaned down to pick him up and place him against your chest, where he promptly fell asleep. Din wrapped his arm around both you and the Child and held you both securely as he drifted off. You stayed awake a little while longer, just laying there smiling to yourself. As sleep finally consumed you, only one thought danced in your mind, you were finally a clan of three.

#the Mandalorian x reader #Mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #dyn jarren x reader #Mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #dyn jarren imagine #Mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #dyn jarren fanfic #mandalorian x fem!reader #din djarin x fem!reader #dyn jarren x fem!reader

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nahoyaglock · 4 years ago

Text

📃 AS I AM CHAPTER 3 — Discovery

SUMMARY — You knew Kageyama Tobio since you both were in diapers, being close family 'friends'. You always wanted to befriend the quiet kid but no matter your efforts, he would never crack. When you transfer schools and meet Kageyama again, what will happen to your relationship?

PAIRING — family friend!kageyama x y/n

GENRE — fluff/crack/angst

WARNINGS — kags being a bigger meanie

WORD COUNT — 2.6k

FIND THE MASTERLIST HERE

It has been about more than two weeks since your first day at Karasuno, already creating good bonds with Hinata, Nishinoya, Yamaguchi, and even Tsukishima. You were pretty close to all of them, spending alot of time together at lunch or after school, and even during the weekend. They wanted you to feel welcome, after all, you even had a little text group chat.

(Sent October 10th at 11:15 am)

Y/N: [Good morning yall, and happy birthday noya!]

Shoyo: [HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOYA!]

Tadashi: [goodmorning and happy bday!]

Tsukki: [morning, happy birthday]

Noya: [GOOD MORNING, AND THANKS GUYS!]

You smiled down at your phone before shutting it off. Since it was Noyas birthday, your mom let him and your friends come over, it also being a Saturday. You planned to have a sleepover with your new friends, Kageyama, and Tanaka of course. You had finished cleaning your living room, and despite it being small, it was big enough to fit a bunch of enthusiastic dorks, and Tsukishima.

You had begun cooking lunch, making sandwiches for you and Hinata, who was already on his way to your house. "Good morning honey," your mom spoke softly, rubbing her eyes as she walked past you to the coffee maker. "Good morning mom, Hinatas on his way here already," you smile and finish the sandwiches, putting them on a plate and walking to the living room.

"Okay, I have work today so ill be out for a little bit, tell Nishinoya I said happy birthday and Kageyama I said hello," she chuckled as she started the machine. You nodded and heard the doorbell ring, causing you to sit up and smile in excitement, placing the play down on the couch. "Thats Shoyo!"

You hop to the front door and immediately unlock the door, greeting the orange haired male with a smile that was matching his. "Hey y/n!" He greets and you let him in, closing the door behind himself. "Hi Shoyo, I made lunch," you say and lead him to the living room. "Wow, your house is really cute," he giggles and sets his bags and blanket in the corner next to the couch.

"Im glad you think so, I think Tanaka is arriving next, but i could be wrong," you say and plot down on the couch, hinata following your movements. "When is Kageyama coming?" He asks and rests his head on your shoulder, head tilted so he can look at you, but you just shrug. "He hasn't answered me since I sent him the invite yesterday," you say before handing him the plate and taking your sandwich.

"What? He answered me this morning," Hinata said and pulled his phone out of his pocket, going to his text messages with Kageyama. "Yeah, he texted me this morning, asked if i was coming to the sleepover," he said and you sae him typing on his screen. You felt hurt, Kageyama always answered you, whether it was one word, or even one letter, he always answered.

"Ah, he might've forgotten, i wont hold it against him," you smiled and decided to shake it off, it was Noyas birthday and you were ready to have fun. You and Hinata watched a bit of Netflix and ate a bit more than just the sandwhiches you made. It had been about more than an hour since the next person appeared, hearing the doorbell ring as you were in the middle of showing Hinata baby pictures of you and Kageyama.

"Ah, I bet its Tsukishima and Tadashi! Or just Tadashi!" Hinata shouts, jumping up, you following after him with a big goofy smile on your face as you both run to the door. "Its definitely Tanaka! Im calling it!" You laugh, barely able to keep up with the small male as he opens the door. As you looked at the male at the door, you and Hinata both shouted at the same time.

"Tadashi!"

"Tanaka!"

"K-kageyama?" You questioned and Hinata sighed, walking back to your room, sulking. "Its just Kageyama," he complaimed and Kageyama glared at him. "Whats that supposed to mean dumbass!" You let him in and close the door behind him as he kicks off his shoes. "Kags, you didnt bring any bags? Like, more than one?" You ask and walk to your room, seeing him hesitate to say respond.

"I'm not staying over. I just wanted to wish Nishinoya a happy birthday, i thought more people would be here by now," he nonchalantly responds, almost irritating you. "Well, you could've answered my text with a yes or no, or tell me that," you say and turn to face him, kicking his ankle softly. "Sorry," he muttered.

You entered your room with Kageyama and saw Hinata checking out your wall of pictures, filled with pictures of you and kageyama as children, you and your mom, and your friends from Nekoma. "Hey, is that Kenma?" He asked, turning his head to look at you and Kageyama with a curious face.

"Oh, yeah it is," you answer and walk over to the spot next to hinata. "Ah, Inuoka! Lev!" He exclaims with a excited expression, carefully scanning the pictures. "Is this the Nekoma volleyball club?" He asked, looking up at you with admiration as you confirm that it is.

"Thats so cool! You know Kuroo?!" He said, looking at another photo, one dear to your heart. It was the last time you saw them, you had a sleepover at Kuroos house, all the boys attending. You were wrapped in Kuroo and Inuokas arms, the 2nd years sitting on the couch in the back with the rest of the members asleep, or running around.

"Yeah, he acts like my brother sometimes. This was from our last sleepover before i came here," you state and he puts it back in his place when he hears the doorbell. "Okay, this time its DEFINITELY Tanaka!" You slap Hinatas arm and you two, once again, race to the front door. "Its gotta be Tadashi!" He once again opens the door to be met with Tanaka, causing you to shout in glory, hinata groaning.

"Uh, hello to you too," he laughs and steps over Hinata who dramatically fell to his knees. "Sorry, we were betting on who would arrive next," you laughed as he put his stuff next to Hinatas and saw Kageyama come out of your room. "Hey Tanaka," he greeted and you all sat on the couch, continuing the movie you and Hinata had started. After about 30 minutes more, there was a knock on the door.

"Thats definently Tsukishima," You say and Hinata nods as you stand up to open the door, greeting the tall blonde, noticing Tadashi and Noya behind him. "Hey Tsukki, Tadashi, and happy birthday Noya!" You greet, patting Tsukishimas arm and hugging the last two. "Everyones here, so lets get started, hmm?"

As everyone gets their stuff situated, you head to your room to get your phone and order some take out and remind your mom to get a cake before heading back out to your friends. "Noya, you ca– Noya?" You giggled softly, seeing him wrapped in a giant fluffy blanket, and he smiles. "Yes?"

"Ah, I was gonna say you can choose a movie, unless you wanna do anything else before the food arrives," you bounce before taking a seat between Tsukishima and Hinata. "Movie please, i dont want to even know what hes thinking right now," Tsukishima said, his expression was serious. You elbow him with a chuckle that follows, "its his birthday, cut him some slack."

You all decided to play a few games with an old movie playing as background noise. Truth or dare, would you rather, never have I ever, and some board games, Tsukishima winning monopoly. He was currently boasting to Kageyama with a smug look on his face as the doorbell rang.

"Food!" You shouted and jumped up to answer the door, quickly paying for the food and closing the door before bringing it to the small coffee table in your living room. "Also my mom should be home in a few minutes so call down with all the cursing Tanaka," you laughed and opened the food boxes before grabbing some plates and utensils for them to serve themselves.

You guys ate and finally put on a movie, moving the coffee table to you, Noya, Tanaka, Tadashi, and Hinata could all huddle up on the floor infront of the tv, leaving Tsukishima and Kageyama on the couch. "Hey, im home honey. Hi boys," your mom called, a big bag in hands as she slipped off her shoes. "Hi y/ns mom!" Noya called and she brought the cake over to you.

"Happy birthday Noya, and hello Kageyama, its been a while since ive seen you, you're so big," your mom patted his shoulder and he nodded. "Hello Mrs. y/l/n," he spoke politely as Tsukishima quietly laughed at him. "Behave okay? Im heading to bed. Oh, and Kageyama, your mother invited us over tomorrow so i can take you home tomorrow, " she flashed a warm smile and your face lit up as you sat up from the cuddle pile.

"I haven't been to your house in years," you exclaim and placed a hand on Kageyamas knee, giggling. He shifted a bit, causing your hand to fall and he hummed, "because Tokyo is far." You roll your eyes and lay down back between Nishinoya and Hinata. "And im not sleeping over, my moms coming in 10 minutes to pick me up."

"Ah, well either way, ill see you tomorrow Tobio," your mom waved and left to her room. It was silent as you guys kept your eyes glued to the screen. Eventually Kageyama left, so Tsukishima joined the cuddle pile until you guys got tired. Hinata and Tadashi took the couch, Tanaka and Nishinoya draped over each other near the couch, Tsukishima laying next to you on the blanket that covered the itchy carpet.

You sat up, on your phone after your friends from Nekoma decided to blow up your phone.

"You still awake?" You jumped at the voice, thinking everyone was asleep, and you turned to the voice to see the salty blonde slipping on his glasses. "Yeah, my friends texted me," you whispered before turning off your phone, the room being engulfed by darkness and you took your spot next to Tsukishima. "So you and Kageyama?" He propped his head up on his hand as he looked at you.

"Yeah, he's weird. He hasn't been talking to me that much the past few weeks." You rest your head on the pillow and pull the blanket up over you. Tsukishima hums lightly before fixing his pillow, "is he always like this? He doesnt seem that way around the team."

"I guess? Hes always been dry and stand offish since we were children, but to other people he was different." You felt tired, and Tsukishima could sense it. "Rest, worry your head tomorrow." He pats your head before taking his glasses back off and lays down, you smile. "Thanks Tsukki."

"Dont call me that."

—

Once it became morning, Tanaka and Nishinoya were the firsts to leave, followed by Tadashi. You had just come out of the shower, finding Hinata folding his blankets and cleaning up the living room, and Tsukishima talking to your mom in the kitchen as he helped wash dishes. "Good morning mom," you yawned and grabbed a key from one of the drawers. "Im gonna stop by the store, wanna come with Tsukki? Hinata?"

Tsukishima looked at your mom and she nodded, telling him it was okay and that she'd finish the dishes on her own. You left the house with the two males, taking the short walk to the store. "You're going to Kageyamas right?" Hinata asked, bouncing to keep warm in the cold air. You nod and swing the keys around your finger, "yeah, in a few hours, oh! Let me text him."

(Sent October 11th at 1:17 pm)

Y/N: [Morning Tobio!]

[I'll see you in a few hours!]

As you waited for his answer, Tsukishima spoke up. "Not to.. seem like im putting you on the spot but.. doesn't he ignore you?" He kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze forward and Hinata gasped, "Tsukki that sounds mean!" He smacked his arm, causing the taller to look down at him. "I'm just saying that its not the best way to treat someone," he rolls his eyes and Hinata scoffs. "As if you can talk."

You sigh and laugh, placing a hand on both the males arms, "calm down you two, geez." They relax in your touch and Tsukishima continues. "Seriously tho, he could be just, y'know.. being a bitch," he he spoke, putting an emphasis on bitch. "Or he could be hiding something!" Hinata gasps and you laugh at them. "Yeah yeah, but its whatever really, this is how ive always seen Tobio, it'd be weird if he was any different. Though id like it alot if he DID be a little less dry."

You remembered the talk you and Tsukishkma had before, he always brought up Kageyama and your relationship with him. Soon you started to think the same was he did. Was Kageyama really just being mean? Isnt that just how he always is? Why does he act different around others? Was it you, or was it him?

—

You kicked off your shoes as you stepped into the warm house with a bright smile, "hello Mrs. Kageyama!" You greeted as she pulled you into a hug. "Hello y/n, my you've grown! Tobio is in his room, can you take him his plate? This one is your" She said and handed you two plates. You smiled and nodded your head like a gibby child and she patted your back as you made youe way to Kageyamas room. You kicked on the door because your arms were occupied.

You heard a bed creak and a few seconds after, the door opened and was almost closed back in your face if it weren't for him catching a glimpse at the plates. "Come in," he mumbled and let you in. You walked over to his bed and put his plate down on his bed and sat on the end as he closed the door. "Wow, your room has changed alot," you smile and look around the room at his posters and pictures on the walls.

"Mhm," he plopped back down on his bed and went on his phone. You noticed this and furrowed your brows, taking a bite of your food. "You know, for someone on their phone alot, you sure do ignore my texts alot," you mainly joked, but you guessed that he didnt catch on when his expression changed and he mumbled an apology. Was that guilt on his face?

You decided to stay silent and just scroll through social media and eat your food. After a few minutes of just silence, Kageyama finished his plate and got up to take it upstairs. "Hey Kags," you called before he left and you held your plate out to him, "can you take this for me?"

"You barely ate any thing," he said and you shook the plate a little bit, causing him to grab it, scared it would fall. "I'll bring you a meatbun," he murmured and left the room. You smiled slightly at the mention of meatbuns, and stood up to stretch your legs.

You grabbed a napkin from Kageyamas bedside dresser and wiped any food off of your mouth. He had a small trash bin in the corner of his room, so you went to throw away your napkin, looking at his posters and pictures on the wall. When you opened the bin, there was a large stack of pictures atop all of the trash.

All being pictures that had you and him in them.

#as i am*series #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio au #kageyama tobio fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #hq fanfic

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