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animeomegas · 4 years

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Omega!Kaidou Headcanons

Anon: Ooooh can you do omega kaido hcs?

(Aww, I love Kaidou, he is baby. I just finished all my uni work for the week so I jumped to write this! Enjoy!)

Warnings: N-sfw under cut, mpreg, talk of insecurities.

General:

Kaidou is quite an insecure omega. Especially as a teenager.

Honestly, he has probably tried to masquerade as a beta before, and wished many times that he was an alpha like his younger brother and sister.

A lot of his façade as the ‘Jet Black Wings’ is a defence mechanism because of his insecurities and him being an omega fuels that.

Kaidou can be wary around alphas he doesn’t know, so it’s likely that you were friends first and romantic a long time afterwards.

When you are finally mates/almost mates, you see a completely different side to Kaidou.

He is incredibly touch starved. He loves cuddles and pets. He’ll take any affection you dish out. He especially loves resting his head on your lap or on your shoulder.

Kaidou wants to be an author when he’s older, and he has never had anyone support his dream. When you offer your support for him, he falls in love with you right then and there. That’s when he knew he wanted you to be his alpha.

His scent is light and flowery, with a hint of citrus.

Kaidou purrs a lot without realising and it always embarrasses him when you point it out. He purrs everytime you scent him, croon, cuddle him, etc.

Kaidou is a very sweet omega who is a dedicated and loving mate and parent.

Nesting:

As a teenager, Kaidou never gets to the point where he likes his nest.

He wants a super cool nest! A combo between a ‘secret lair’ style and a ‘pinterest’ style nest.

He wants a room dedicated to his nest, preferably with a hidden entrance. He wants a super powerful colour scheme with cool posters but he also wants fairy lights and pastel blankets.

Kaidou has lots of cuddly toys but he gets embarrassed about it and won’t admit it.

In fact, cuddly toys are his favourite courting gifts to receive, but he will always pretend that he think toys are for little kids, but you can see how tightly he cradles the toy, and if you scent the teddy first, you can even hear him purring.

As an adult, Kaidou really wants his dream nest, but he feels guilty spending so much money on it. It’s up to his alpha to encourage him.

When he has pups, they think his nest is the coolest thing ever, and they tell all the other kids at school because it has a hidden door! And beanbags! And a mini fridge! And it’s way better than your omega parent’s nest!!

Kaidou is very protective of his nest. He only lets you and his pups inside. No one else. He doesn’t even like when someone figures out where it is in his home.

This causes some conflict because he would love to give birth in his nest, but he would never be able to invite a midwife or doctor inside.

You clutched a small bat plushie in you hands as you walked into your classroom. You had bought it for Kaidou on a whim yesterday on your way home from school. This was hardly the first time you had given him a courting gift, but this was the first one that had your scent on it.

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself. “You can do this, don’t be nervous.”

You saw Kaidou immediately. He was sitting on top of his desk, chatting with Hairo and Nendou. You huffed. You would have preferred him to be alone but you guess that couldn’t be helped now.

“Hey, Shun...” You started, awkwardly sliding up beside him.

He startled slightly, a blush settling on his cheeks.

“Oh! Hey... Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I, um.” You pulled the bat toy out of your pocket, shoving it vaguely in his direction. “This is for you.”

Kaidou gently took it from your hands, eyes wide. He turned it over, running a finger over the fake fangs. You saw the moment he realised you had scented it. He looked up at you in shock before turning and sniffing absentmindedly at the toy, purrs beginning to sneak out.

You puffed up in pride. Watching your intended mate accept and enjoy your gift with such fervour filled your heart with joy.

“HA HA!” Interrupted Nedou. “Kaidou’s purring!”

The purrs stopped immediately, Kaidou turned bright red, shoving the toy into his bag.

“I AM NOT! Shut up!”

The two began to bicker, Nedou laughing over Kaidou’s agressive denial.

You were vaguely embarrassed that Kaidou’s friends had seen you give him a courting gift, but mostly you were pleased by his acceptance of your first serious courting gift. Giving someone your scent to put in their nest was a big deal after all.

Family + pups

When you decide to court Kaidou, he will try and keep you as far away from his mother as he can. Unfortunately, this doesn’t last long, because his mother just orders him to bring you over and he can’t say no to his terrifying alpha mother.

Kaidou is unbelievably nervous throughout the whole meeting. He knows his mother will order him to end the courtship if she doesn’t approve.

His mother’s opinion depends a lot of how well spoken, intelligent and ambitious Kaidou’s intended alpha is.

If you have good grades, can match her successfully in conversation, and are preparing to apply to a good university, she will adore you.

(it’s best just to lie if you aren’t those things).

Kaidou’s mother is a very hands on grandparent when the time comes. She always take your pup(s) when Kaidou is in heat and you in rut. She also helps pay for tutors and arranges academic help for all her grandchildren.

Kaidou wants at least one pup but no more than three pups.

He is such a sweet parent.

He never, ever makes fun of his pups. He always treats their problems seriously and loves them for who they are.

He’s the kind of parent who jumps at the opportunity to support his kids hobbies. Writing, martial arts, painting, cooking, whatever they love, he makes sure they can do it.

Kaidou makes an excellent stay-at-home parent. He loves spending time with his pup(s) and working on writing the book he wants to write.

Family cuddles are a scheduled weekly event. He is distraught if, when his pups get older, they don’t partake in the family cuddles every week.

It took Kaidou quite a few tries to get pregnant, and he ended up getting very stressed about it, thinking something was wrong with him. Luckily, it eventually happened for you both.

When he was pregnant, Kaidou didn’t have many symptoms, but he was very tired and hungry all the time.

He needed help to do most things because he was so tired, but he felt like a burden, so didn’t ask for help. This changes in his second pregnancy (if he has one). He needs to have help with your other pup(s) when he’s pregnant because he’s too tired to look after them fulltime.

It would make more sense for you to wait until your first pup was in school before trying for a second one, just to take the pressure off of Kaidou somewhat.

The night’s peace was broken by a tentative knock at your bedroom door. You startled slightly, starting to sit up, Kaidou also stirring in your arms. The door handle turned slowly, the silhouette of you oldest son was revealed, along with the quiet sound of sniffling.

Before you could even process what you were seeing, Kaidou had yanked himself out of your arms and thrown himself towards your crying pup.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Kaidou panicked, hands flitting over your pup as if to check for injuries.

“Nightmare.” Your pup whined, beginning to sob and he held his arms out for a hug.

Kaidou whined with him, quickly and firmly pulling him into his embrace. Kaidou then stood up, cradling your pup in his arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Why don’t you sleep with us tonight, pup?” You said, voice still heavy with sleep, gesturing for Kaidou to get back into bed. It was freezing after all.

Kaidou didn’t need any more prompting and slipped back under the covers you were holding up for him. As he settled down, your pup quickly grabbed at your shirt, holding it tightly in his fist. You brushed your hand over his tiny one before settling your hand on his back, rubbing up and down to help soothe him. You could no longer see his face (it was buried in your mate’s chest), but you could still hear his sniffling.

“What was your nightmare about, sweetheart? Must have been scary, huh?” You asked as Kaidou began scenting the top of your son’s head.

“Yeah. W’s scary.” Came the muffled voice of your pup.

In lieu of a reply, you pulled both him and Kaidou more closely against your chest.

“Nothing can happen while you’re here with us, okay. You’re safe.” You kept rubbing his back as he finally started to settle. Eventually, his breathing evened out and he relaxed fully against you and Kaidou, his grip on your shirt loosening.

“I feel so useless when he has nightmares.” Kaidou admitted, breaking the hush. “I can’t protect him from them.”

You shifted slightly to look him in the eye.

“You’re protecting him right now, my love. This is what he needs from you and you’re so good at it. You’re such a good parent, Shun.” Kaidou blushed faintly. “I fall in love with you all over again everytime I see you with our pups.”

Kaidou smiled slightly, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I just want him to be happy.”

“I know.” You replied, placing a kiss on his head. “Me too.”

You started to drift off to sleep as silence descended on the room.

“Thanks.” Kaidou murmured.

Too tired to reply, you squeezed him lightly with your arms. It saddened you that your amazing parent of a mate still felt insecure four years into parenthood, but you were just going to have to keep telling him otherwise until he started to see himself as you saw him.

N-SFW under cut (ft. Slightly!Older!Kaidou)

Kaidou always, always needs after sex cuddles. It helps relax him, quiet his insecurities and is equally as enjoyable as the sex in his opinion.

Kaidou is a big subby baby, and he needs cuddles for his aftercare or he can feel very rejected.

Do you remember the episode where Kaidou came last in every event of the physical fitness test, but came first in flexibility? Kaidou is extremely flexible and he loves to show it off in bed. He’s very proud of all the positions he can bend into.

Kaidou loves dressing up in lingerie. He feels pretty and confident when he’s wearing lace lingerie. He looks best in pastel blue (it matches his hair), but honestly, he pulls off all pastel shades very well.

Along a similar vein, Kaidou finds it very embarrasing but very hot to look at himself in the mirror while you have sex. It requires a lot of praise though, as he can be quite insecure.

In heat, Kaidou is absolutely shameless. He will beg and plead and whine and nuzzle you to get you into his nest with him.

Kaidou is weak to hickeys on his neck, especially around his scent glands. He doesn’t give many hickeys, but he is prone to leaving scratch marks on your back and shoulders.

This man is very sensitive in a lot of areas. His nipples and the inside of his thighs are very soft and particularly sensitive.

He hates pain though. He is neither a masochist nor a sadist and thinks that pain has no place in love making.

Kaidou likes a little bit of roleplay but he’s way to embarrassed to bring it up. You have to wait until you’ve been in a relationship with him for years before he feels comfortable enough to bring it up. He is interested in teacher/student and master/slave style roleplays. He enjoys playing the part of someone else, because it makes him feel more comfortable in embracing his sexuality outside his heat.

“I’m-I’m coming out now. Don’t laugh, okay?”

You shook you head fondly.

“I’m not going to laugh at you, baby. You always look gorgeous, don’t forget that.”

The bathroom door opened and Kaidou shuffled out, clad in the new pastel blue lingerie set you had ordered for him last week.

You lost your breath just looking at him.

He was wearing sheer knee socks with little bows, held up by the garter belt sitting snugly on his waist. On top, he was wearing a lacy bralette, completely see through of course. Your favourite piece however, was undoubtedly the little blue panties. You could see the fabric bulging, straining against his erection. Looking a little closer, you noticed a small damp spot. You grinned. For all his complaining, he certainly enjoyed this a lot. You haven’t even touched him yet.

Kaidou shifted under your hungry gaze, feeling a little like your prey. He shivered at the thought.

You moved to kneel on the ground before him, pressing wet, open mouth kisses over his thighs and tummy. Kaidou steadied himself by gripping onto your shoulders. You could feel his nails making small grooves in your skin.

When you reached his chest, you began to suck and bite at his nipples through the lacey fabric, delighting in his moans and whimpers. He was always so sensitive for you.

“So beautiful.” You panted, breathing heavily against him.

“M’ not. Not beautiful.” Kaidou denied, eyes clenched shut.

You growled in response, biting him lightly on the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare. You’re breath-taking, Shun. Stunning. Gorgeous. Perfect.” You emphasised every word with a suck or a bit on his neck. You wouldn’t stop until he learnt to love himself as much as you loved him.

“Okay, baby, get on the bed. We have a long night ahead.” You made a point to crash your hips into his. “I’m going to show you how beautiful you are.”

#saiki k #disastrous life of saiki k #kaido shun #shun kaidou #omega kaidou #omega!Kaidou #alpha reader #Alpha!Reader #imagine #reader insert #x reader #headcanon #n-sfw #abo #omegaverse #male omega #gn alpha #female alpha #male alpha

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mxvladdy · 4 years

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What do you think would happen if MC (in an attempt to keep it away from him) tucked Goldie under their boob?

[A bra is the best wallet but underneath even a C-cup boob is damn near Fort Knox (or the tower of London, I.e. Impenatrable fortresses)]

lmaooo. Let’s us gather round and pray for Mammon’s remaining sanity. What little remands. The himbo never saw it coming. I’m weak and got a little spicy at the end, apologies if that’s not what you wanted my heart was thirsty for ONE greed man;.;

A/N I originally called this work Tiity prison bc I have a sense of humor lol.

Hope ya like!

To say he is conflicted is an understatement. Depending on when and where you do the titty lockdown will change how he reacts.

If it's at school, he is a mess. I’m talking about the works. He’s red in the face, can’t focus, and sweating the whole rest of the school day. He is definitely torn between fighting his goldie withdrawals and making a pass at your chest.

He won’t do the latter, as much as he threatens it. He may be scummy but he has a code of conduct (most of the time). You get a kick out of watching him try not to stare at your chest and getting smacked by Lucifer when caught.

If it’s on Lucifer’s orders to keep his card away from him he’ll have a bit more control but will bitch the WHOLE day. Honestly, you might give it back just to shut him up.

He won’t outright grab your chest or physically try to snatch it. He’ll try to be sneaky about it. Dropping stuff and making you bend over to grab it. “I swear I ain’t try nothin’”. Right.

If desperate enough he’ll just downright pick you up off your feet and jiggle you like a piggy bank. Like I said, he has a code of conduct. It’s just kinda flexible sometimes.

“C-come on! Give ‘er back.” Mammon pleads, pulling off his classic bagger’s pout. Good thing you were immune. His toned arms cage you in, your back resting on one of the school’s marble walls. “How am I going to buy lunch?”

“I made you lunch.” You laugh. Ducking under his arms you make your way to the dining hall ignoring his flustered shouts. He’ll follow soon enough. The promise of your cooking and potentially nabbing goldie back was too great for him to ignore. Sure enough, he slinks in a few minutes after you. His shades now out and perched on his nose. Even hidden under the tinted glasses, you could see his flushed cheeks and darting eyes. “Better eat now, Beel is going to join us today.” You say around a mouthful of food. He whines but forces himself to focus on his quickly cooling food.

He follows you even closer than before after lunch, barely a hair’s breadth from your back. His clever fingers pinching and pulling at the bottom of your shirt in the crowded hallway. “Please~” He whimpers through his teeth after your swat his hands away again. “I swear I won’t use her.”

You plop down at your desk. “If you’re not going to use her, then she is safe where she is.” You stick your tongue out and give the boob hiding goldie a lovely squeeze. Mammon groans as if stabbed, teeth bared and fangs growing in a mix of frustration and want. “Babe come on. Ya’ killing me.” His eyes are glued to where your hand rests.

Before you can respond a leather-clad hand smacks Mammon across the back of his head. Mammon yips in fright. “I will kill you first if you don’t keep your eyes up at the board.” The cold warning from Lucifer was enough to shut you both up for the rest of the class. You watch him disappear when the bell chimes. His next period was across campus while you were stuck here for another hour. Your phone buzzes the moment his designer boots disappear out the door.

Pretty Boy: what did you do to Mammon?

You: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

You catch Asmo’s eye from his seat a few rows back from you. He winks at you, thumbs flying across his lit screen.

Pretty Boy: Bull- tell me your secrets. I haven’t seen him that flustered in eons, not since Helen paid a visit.

You: Got “asked” by Lucifer to keep Goldie away from Mammon for the day. A limited edition car he wants just got released. Luci is still paying off Mammon’s last shopping spree, so he’s on ice till tomorrow afternoon.

Pretty Boy: Ouch- you not telling him where it is?

You: Oh no. He knows exactly where it is. He is just too nervous to go for it.

You hear Asmo’s scandalous gasp behind you earning you both a glare from the professor. You bite your tongue to hide a chuckle. The professor turns with a huff, and Asmo starts up all over again.

Pretty Boy: Is it in your pants! Can I take a look ;*

You: No and No.

Pretty Boy: Ah- he was always a chest man. Good luck with that, he can hold out for only so long :)

What does that mean? You whip your head around waiting for an explanation text. Asmo has the gall to ignore you, busy reapplying his lip gloss. Even if he wasn’t looking at you, you knew that impish smile was for you. Turning back around in your seat you shiver, now you weren’t sure if you should be scared or excited.

The rest of the day passes quietly. Too quietly. It gives you the jitters. Every corner of the school could be a potential hiding spot for one conniving demon. You weren’t expecting him to attack you, not outright. Yet, you were expecting some sort of retaliation. The last bell of the day came sooner than you expected and it was time for afterschool activities. Packing your bag you wave off Beel and Satan, assuring them you would be fine to walk to the music and arts wing by yourself. They had their own clubs to get to anyway.

Making your way to your activity you feel the hair on the back of your neck began to rise. Something wasn’t sitting right with you. You look up and around. No one was in the corridors, not even a stray teacher rushing to the breakroom. Odd. You peak over your shoulder and frown. Even the air was still. Chalking it up to a probably very haunted school, you pick up the pace. Even if you didn’t believe in the ghost stories like Luke, it was best to just never find out. No matter what hallway you took or how fast you walked the feeling of being watched only intensified. Your flight or fight instinct kicked in.

Who could you call if you need help? Where in the hells was Mam- was that your pencil case? You skid to a halt bemused. There, in the middle of the floor was your favorite case. The calico kitty design stares up at you innocently from the floor. You open your bag to double-check. You could have sworn you had thrown it in there after last period. Did it fall out? Had you taken this path before? You approached it cautiously, bending down to grab it.

Strong arms wrap around your waist locking around you like a spring trap. They lift you up and up and up. It was so sudden you could do nothing but squeak in surprise, pencil case clutched tightly to your chest. Were you really going to die here? Caught in such a childish trap...wait. “Seriously Mammon!” The fear disappears, replaced now with exasperation. He grunts ignoring your words to shake you slightly. You yelp feeling goldie and your bra shift. “Oh, my Gods. Mammon! I know you can do better than this.”

“Shut up! I’m desperate.”

Unbelievable. "That's the best you got? Really, I’m kinda insulted." Mammon stops shaking you, his arms loosening enough for you to turn around to face him. He looks up at you batting his long lashes. “Put me down.” It wasn’t a pact order, but firm. He pouts but sets you back on the ground gently. Not before giving you a hearty squeeze. You catch his hand sneaking up the side of your shirt with a raised brow. "Why didn't you just make a grab for it in the first place?"

He scoffs turning pink. "'M allowed ta just cop a feel whenever I want now?"

"Absolutely not, not in public at least. I like you breathing."

“Could have fooled me,” Mammon chuckles. He glances around the empty hallway then back to you. A slow rolling purr starts deep in his throat. "Though, there is no one here now." Slowly his dexterous fingers glide back over your sides. His touch is searing on your shirt. You could feel goldie pulsing underneath the cotton of your bra. The plastic seemingly growing warmer than your skin as his hand travels closer. You do nothing, watching his face grow hungrier with each passing centimeter as he gets close to his prize. “What’s stopping me now?”

“Just you.” He stops at the side of your chest, eye wide and greedy. You could feel him trying to temper himself. His adrenaline, fear, lust, and his raw cardinal desire thicking the air around you. It all pulsed red hot in his veins and travels down to yours. He wanted more than just goldie now. His natural magnetism pulling you in closer. You wanted him, you wanted him to just take it- take everything. The pact mark slams shut, its heat snuffed out like a candle. "Mammon?" Had your teasing gone too far?

"Hold tight to her till tonight." He growls tapping your chest possessively. His many gold rings resemble talons as he drags his fingers across the stitching of your school uniform. "I'll come for her tonight," He leans in, smoke and leather clouds your sense. "and I'll be taking a tithe for all the trouble you caused me too." His husky promise sends a shiver down your spine, gut twisting in anticipation. Mammon's bright blue eyes jump over your shoulder, a frown grows on his beautiful face, he could hear footsteps approaching from your club room. Probably the angels looking for you. Brushing his lips across your cheek he parts, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Be ready. You know I always come to collect."

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me headcanons #this was fun lol #requests

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hunter-imagines · 3 years

Note

Adult trio with a yandere s/o hcs?

hi there and thank you for the ask, i sincerely hope you enjoy these headcanons. :)

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💕 Hisoka 💕

• Hisoka wasn’t one to fall for tricks, manipulation, or games. more importantly, he wouldn’t ever find himself in a situation where he could be physically overpowered. so, you had to be very deliberate with your actions.

• you knew that Hisoka had been drawn to you for your apparent potential, as well as your superficial charm. you led him on with this performance, until you felt that he was with you in the long run. it was easy to slip in your repressed feelings, starting with a nervous breakdown, telling him that you were so grateful for him and that he couldn’t ever leave you.

• Hisoka responded with reassurance and a promise, a promise that you’d soon hold against him. more of your underlying self broke through, the unhinged episodes becoming more constant.

• “you’re going to leave me, aren’t you...? the promise you made was bound to break one day, Hisoka... i know.” you wept, clutching his cropped shirt.

“my darling... i’m still here with you, aren’t i?” he coos, stroking the top of your hair. Hisoka lifts your chin with his free hand, making you gaze up into his honey-hued eyes. crocodile tears spilled from your eyes, before you squeeze them shut and push your head into his warm chest, craving the comfort of his heartbeat.

• Hisoka simply smirks, finding your behavior endearing rather than manipulative, and pulls your waist in to his body. your mind swirled with thoughts of your next ploy, deeming this one a success. your lover may be the notoriously cunning one, but he wasn’t the only one with cards up his sleeves. no matter what extravagant act you had to pull, you’d keep him here with you forever.

🖤 Illumi 🖤

• “i’m tired of this, Illumi! i never have enough time with you anymore, you’re always off somewhere else! i thought we were more important to you, but apparently not!” you snarled, your eyes piercing his form like freshly-sharpened knives. he sat there on the couch, taking every attack that you send his way.

• you wished for more of a rise out of him, but you were well-aware of what you were getting into when you had first started dating Illumi. this didn’t stop you from taking it up a notch, though. yelling in feigned frustration, you swiftly charge up to the end table next to Illumi, before recklessly punching the lamp so hard that it flies into the nearest wall.

• Illumi finally takes action, standing up from his resting place on the couch, and calmly approaches you. he places a hand on your left shoulder, staring down at you.

“y/n. it’s time to calm down. stop, okay?” he states, never losing eye contact.

“are you going to do better for us, Illumi? i can’t take being away from you for so long, i don’t know if you still care about me!” you cry out, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“i care for you. i don’t want to see you act like this again. i won’t be away so often anymore.” he explains, enveloping your fists with his palms.

• after that, you felt reassured that your control on him was secure. Illumi did come home to you in a more timely manner, as he wanted to avoid another one of your outbursts, but you’d find something new to nitpick soon.

💜 Chrollo 💜

• escaping the scene before the Phantom Troupe wrapped up their gathering, you rehearsed your contingent lies about your whereabouts that night. Chrollo wasn’t too gullible, you had simply mastered the art of deceit. making your way back into your shared home, you perfected the fake scene of your presence there the entire evening.

• just as expected, Chrollo walks through the door, and you greet him with a quick peck on the lips, your arms wrapped around his neck.

“good evening, y/n. what have you been up to tonight?” he queries, a soft smirk adorning his face.

“nothing much, my love, just waiting to see your pretty face again~” you half-lie, as you truly did think of him as pretty, and you stroke the fur neck of his coat. he hums in acknowledgement before entering further into your home.

• Chrollo takes a seat at the kitchen table and you lean next to him, propping an elbow on the surface to rest your cheek.

“Chrollo? do you have feelings for anyone in the Phantom Troupe?” you ask, anticipating his usual response when you grilled him about potential affairs.

“no, my love. i only have eyes for you. have i not made that clear?”

• confusion filled his senses when you acted like this, as he couldn’t understand why you’d be insecure or even jealous about his ‘relations’. he’d always appease you, telling you both the truth and what you liked to hear. Chrollo hoped the situation didn’t reach the point where he’d have to prove himself. how would he? Phantom Troupe and its members reserved a place deep in his heart, but he wouldn’t let you start to think that it rivaled his affections for you.

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- mod connie

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the-scandalorian · 4 years

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 4

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.6k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, non-graphic description of blood and injury, cursing, alcohol consumption Summary: You and Mando choose Sorgan as your place to lay low, only to get wrangled into a risky job. Notes: I didn’t post last week, so have two chapters! Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @honey-hi @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @red-leaders @zoemariefit

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

The next few days passed in a haze of planning and training. You helped instruct the villagers in hand-to-hand combat alongside Cara and firearms training with Mando. When Cara asked why you happened to be proficient in both skills, you told her that working with the clientele you did occasionally necessitated self-defense. That was true enough.

After a day or two, however, you decided it was best to leave the blaster training up to Mando. You focused on assisting Cara, who was good company, and joined the crew that was constructing barricades and digging trenches.

It was irritating to feel a tinge of jealousy at the comfortable way Mando interacted with Omera so soon after meeting her. She was beautiful and clever, welcoming and kind. You understood her appeal. Still, despite yourself, you were annoyed by their borderline flirtatious interactions.

You could practically feel Mando’s heart drop when Omera was the only villager to raise her hand when he asked the group who knew how to shoot. He looked like he might actually be in physical pain as he watched her hit the pan she was aiming for over and over in quick succession during target practice. He was visibly tense, holding his shoulders back uncomfortably far as he regarded her, deeply impressed.

You were honestly even a little nettled by easy relationship that had developed organically between Cara and Mando. Their connection was strictly platonic, but they acted like they’d been friends for years.

Why is it so different with me?

Both of these developments were irritating, but what really drove you to avoid Mando was your frustration at yourself. This wasn’t the plan. You weren’t supposed to get invested or attached—both because you’d part ways soon enough and because you were witnessing Mando get attached to someone else.

It was easy enough to limit your interactions with him during the day. You spent what little spare time you had playing with the kid and the gaggle of children that followed him around to squeal at every adorable flap of his ears, or wandering through the forest. You always stayed closed to village, but it was relief to get some time alone. As nice as it was to have regular company—something you’d wanted for so long—you also missed some aspects of your solitary existence. It was simple and comfortable. It was what you knew best.

***

At night, you made sure to stay away from the barn as long as possible so Mando could have plenty of time to eat and do whatever else he did with his helmet off.

Each night, you would approach the barn after dark had fallen, making sure to stomp loudly up the steps. You’d stand off to the side of the doorway and knock, waiting to hear the telltale sound of beskar dragging across the wooden windowsill and the subsequent hiss as he fit the helmet back over his head.

The fourth night, however, when Mando arrived back at the barn in the early evening, he stopped at the doorway.

You had stacked every box, crate, and stray item in a line down the center of the back half of the room to make a barrier that was as high as your shoulder. You’d hung a sheet across both sides, so you each had an enclosed space.

“I know it doesn’t fix it, but I thought it might make you feel better? I promise not to get up with out warning you... I know you’ll probably keep your helmet on anyways, but I have to imagine sleeping in it is killing your neck, and since you won’t let me figure out somewhere else to sleep, this is the best I could come up with,” you stopped rambling, punctuating the end of your sentence with a decisive nod.

“Thank you,” he said.

You were relieved—and slightly surprised—when later that night, after darkness had fallen and you were tucked under your blankets, hovering on the edges of sleep, you heard a hiss and a thunk, which you registered as him removing his helmet and setting it on the floor. It was slightly harder to fall sleep knowing that Mando was only feet away from you, helmetless.

The warmth that blossomed in your chest at this display of trust stayed with you well into the next day.

***

The next night, after a long day of training, you were back in the barn, getting cleaned up before bed. Mando, having just entered, was untying the knot in his cape. The kid was standing in his crib, tiny hands gripping the bars, watching you and Mando with eager curiosity.

Seated on a crate, you pulled the necklace that was tucked under your shirt over your head, preparing to wash the sweat and grime of the day off you. You leaned over to stow it in a tiny zip pocket on the outside of your bag, when you felt a tug on the thin gold chain. You looked down at your hand, thinking the child must have tottered over when you weren’t looking. But, looking up, you saw that he wasn’t near you. He was still standing in his crib, and he whined at you, his tiny hand outstretched. He seemed concerned, his eyes squinted and forehead wrinkled in concentration.

You looked from the necklace in your hand to the kid and back.

“What the—?”

You glanced at Mando. He was watching you, the cape he was folding frozen in his hands. He dropped the cape and strode over to the crib to grab the child, hugging him tight to his chest. He turned to leave the barn, walking to the doorway. The child struggled against him, until his big ears and eyes appeared over Mando’s shoulder, a tiny hand stretched toward you again.

Curious, you opened your hand and straightened your arm, offering the necklace on your palm.

The baby’s face wrinkled in concentration once again. Mando was almost out the door when the necklace jerked out of your hand and flew across the room. The chain hooked on one of the kid’s tiny fingers. He grasped it, and the purple crystal at the end of it clinked distinctively when it collided with Mando’s pauldron. Mando stopped dead in his tracks.

Your jaw dropped. Mando whirled around, adjusting his grip on the child so he could see the necklace clutched in his tiny hand, the pendant swinging back and forth like a pendulum. The baby was cooing and wiggling his ears in triumph. His other hand grabbed at the crystal.

Mando’s entire demeanor shifted in the space of a second. He stopped breathing and crossed the space between you in a few long strides, raising a hand to point a threatening finger at your chest.

“You can’t tell anyone.” The anger in his voice failed to conceal the fear underneath it, even through the modulator.

“I won’t.” You were absolutely bewildered by this development, but you’d never do anything that would endanger the child.

Mando stayed frozen like that, his hand outstretched. In his arms, the child tittered and cooed, examining the object clasped in his tiny hands.

“Mando, I promise. I won’t.”

He nodded, dropping his accusing hand, and looked down to gently extricate the necklace from the three-fingered hand it was wrapped around. You could see the reflection of the baby’s huge, imploring brown eyes in Mando’s visor. The baby let out a frustrated huff in protest and began to whine in earnest when Mando successfully disentangled the necklace.

He thrust it back into your hand, turned on his heel, and left.

The Mandalorian has a baby... Jedi? And he does not want to talk about it.

***

After two weeks of preparation, the day finally arrived. Tension was high among the villagers as the final arrangements were made. The plan was reviewed, and finally, the sun began to set. You and Mando headed back to the barn to gear up.

It only took a few minutes for Mando to grab all he needed. Slinging his rifle across his back, he walked toward the doorway and paused. He turned around to face you.

“We’re headed out. You’ll make sure the kid is safe with the others?” he asked.

“Of course. Be careful out there.”

“You too.” He gave you a curt nod and swept out the door.

You gathered what you needed, delivered the child to the building that was designated for children and a couple caretakers, and took your place with the villagers behind one of the barricades. You shared words of reassurance with those around you.

The night passed in a blur of adrenaline. You had been put in charge of one of two groups of the villagers who were capable of fighting. Omera led the other. Mando and Cara attacked the raider’s camp, drawing them out of the forest. The Klatooinians rushed the village, purposefully funneled to the open space between your group and Omera’s by the barricades, and the AT-ST stuttered into view shortly after.

The villagers were roughly trained soldiers, but in the end, it was enough to scare off the Klatooinians—especially once Mando and Cara managed to lure the reluctant walker into the trap, incapacitating their largest weapon.

Halfway through the fight, your blaster jammed, so you traded it for one you took off a dead Klatooinian. It was large and awkward in your hands, but it did the job well enough.

When the walker fell and the remaining Klatooinians turned tail, the villagers began to cheer, letting their guard down immediately. Mando and Cara disappeared into the woods after the retreating raiders to clear out any stragglers.

You scanned the dark scene from where you stood behind the krill ponds to ensure that every Klatooinian had left. When you turned back toward the village, you noticed an injured raider, who had been lying on the ground, lurched to his feet. He started towards Omera, who was kneeling beside an injured villager, tending their wounds, with her back to him. As he stood, he pulled a long knife from is belt.

“Omera!” you yelled. She looked around at the sound of her name and exclaimed when she saw the man charging her, only a few feet away. Her hands scrabbled along the ground around her, trying to locate her blaster. The other villagers in the vicinity, caught off guard, froze and watched in horror.

You fumbled with the safety on the unfamiliar blaster in your hands, feeling slow and awkward. Fuck.

You sprinted forward to position yourself between Omera and the Klatooinian, catching him off guard and meeting his face with the butt of the heavy blaster. He growled in pain, closing his eyes for a moment as he reeled back, slashing the air blindly with his blade. You took the chance to kick him in the stomach, putting all your weight behind it. He doubled over, but managed to throw out his arm as he stumbled backwards, just as you were drawing your leg back. You cried out in pain as his blade bit through the meat of your calf.

Omera, who had recovered behind you, shot the raider before he hit the ground.

You staggered back, breathing hard, and sat on the ground abruptly, gritting your teeth at the sharp pain. He’d cut deep into your muscle, leaving a laceration as long as your hand. Bacta would fix you well enough, but it hurt like a bitch. It was bleeding freely, thick droplets of blood running down your shin into your boot. Without thinking, you ripped your shirt off over your head, leaving you in just your breast band, and wrapped it tight around your calf to staunch the bleeding. Several villagers rushed over to help you, but you waved them off, reassuring them that you had it under control.

Omera knelt beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Thank you for having my back,” she said genuinely.

You smiled at her and covered her hand with yours: “Anytime. Thanks for having mine.”

You heard the familiar clank of Mando’s armor behind you. He must have finished flushing out the nearby trees. He crouched next to you.

“What happened?”

“Knife wound. Not bad. I’ll be fine.”

Blood was rapidly soaking through the thick fabric of your shirt. Okay, I might need stitches.

“You need stitches,” Mando said, verbalizing your thought.

“Yeah.”

“I can do those for you,” Omera offered. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you nodded.

She threaded a hand under your arm to help you to your feet. You started to get up.

“I got her,” said Mando, waving Omera away. She moved back.

You were too focused on the stinging pain of your leg to process what he meant. Mando got to his knees and leaned forward to slip an arm under the crook of your knees and one around your back. You flinched at the feeling of the cold beskar on your side.

“Mando, I can walk,” you protested, surprised, as he lifted you. You instinctively wrapped an arm behind his neck, while your other hand held tight to the shirt around your calf.

“You’re losing too much blood.”

His chest plate was cold against your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You were surprised when he turned in the direction of the barn where the two of you slept, instead of toward the structure that had been designated for medical care. On the way there, he poked his head into the room where the kids were hidden. The child chirped happily up at the two of you from where he was seated in Winta’s lap. Satisfied, Mando turned to carry you the rest of the way to the barn.

If you weren’t exhausted and in pain, you’d probably be more acutely aware of how exposed you were in just your breast band in his arms. You would probably be enjoying the easy way he was carrying you.

He stepped onto the porch in one stride and strode inside, setting you down gently on your blankets. You lay back immediately, bending your injured leg to keep the pressure steady with a tight grip on your shirt. You closed your eyes, trying to not focus on the pain. You heard Mando rummaging around.

“My med pack is in my backpack,” you said. “Will you hand it to me?”

But when you opened your eyes, you saw that he already had his own med pack open on the floor next to you.

“I have anesthetic bacta spray. I’ll use that first so you don’t feel the stitches.” He held up an aerosol can to show you.

Knowing how expensive that was, you protested: “No, no, save that for something more serious. I’ll be okay. I’ve had stitches before.”

“It’ll be easier for me if I know I’m not hurting you,” he insisted, a note of genuine concern in his voice.

“I can handle it.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? Yes, I can. I’ve done it before.”

“Will you just let me do it?” he asked, exasperated.

“Are you okay though? Don’t you have any injuries?”

“No. Beskar,” he replied, tapping his chest plate. “Just let me do it,” he pressed with an imploring head tilt.

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “Thank you.”

He moved down to your calf, taking the shirt gently from your hands. When his fingers brushed yours, you registered that it wasn’t a glove you felt—his hand was bare.

You closed your eyes again, trying not to fixate on the feeling of his bare skin on yours. Plus, you still weren’t sure if seeing his bare skin would somehow violate his Creed.

He peeled back the fabric slowly. You winced.

“The worst of the bleeding has stopped,” he said, using the shirt to wipe away the drying blood on your skin. “I’m applying the spray.”

You nodded vaguely, then hissed through your teeth at the sting of cold spray on your leg, but the effects were immediate—the pain disappeared instantly, completely.

“Ah, fuck, I forgot how good that stuff is. I got so used to getting patched up without it.”

He let out a grunt of agreement. “Stay still.”

“I will.”

You glanced down at Mando, appreciating how out of place he looked, his large metal form crouched over your leg, administering precise medical care with careful movements.

Feeling like you were in good hands, with the pain gone, you let the fatigue overtake you. Your eyes drifted closed.

Sometime later—you weren’t sure how long in your hazy state—you felt Mando move beside you. You opened your eyes, and he was on his knees by your shoulder, his gloveless hand hovering a couple inches above your arm like he wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to touch you. You gave him a sleepy smile, and in a sudden movement, he lowered his hand the rest of the way down to your bare shoulder.

I guess it isn’t against the Creed to reveal your skin to someone else.

“I’m done.”

“Thank you,” you replied, reaching up to pat the hand on your shoulder. You kept the gesture brief, concerned that your touch might prompt him to pull his hand away.

He didn’t.

His hands were softer than you were expecting.

“Rest,” he instructed. “I put water next to you.”

He stood to leave, the weight of his warm hand retreating with him.

You tried not to overthink how tender Mando had been with you. You didn’t want to process what it meant or the fact that it sort of left you swooning. Though, maybe that was the blood loss.

As you drifted to sleep, you thought about what the future might hold. It was a relief that the fight was over and the village was safe, but it also meant your job here was done and it would soon be time to leave Sorgan. You weren’t sure what this meant for your partnership—if you could really even call it a partnership—with Mando. Would you go your separate ways now?

It wasn’t until the next morning—when you were examining the precise row of stiches on your calf—that you realized, with great dismay, you’d exposed the scar on your chest to Mando, Omera, and a handful of other villagers.

***

The following evening was a celebration. The entire village stayed up late into the night eating, talking, and drinking in the long hall.

After dinner, you were five shots into a drinking game with Cara when Mando rejoined the two of you. You were drinking a clear liquor, something stronger than spotchka that you didn’t know the name of.

Mando sat down stiffly across from you, watching the two of you howl with laughter over a joke he’d missed.

“I was just here half an hour ago. How are you both already drunk?”

“We’re efficient,” said Cara in a mock-serious tone.

“You want to play, Mando? I could get you a straw,” you offered.

He tilted his head, and the sassiness of the gesture made you cackle.

Cara laughed heartily, slapping her hand on her thigh: “I guess that’s his way of saying he can’t handle his booze.”

“What exactly are the rules of this game?” he asked.

“We stopped worrying about the rules awhile ago,” you admitted.

“So who’s winning?”

“Me!” you declared, reaching for the half-empty bottle once again.

“I don’t know about that,” said Cara, skeptically, snatching the bottle and unsteadily pouring two more shots. She handed one to you.

“Maybe you guys have had enough,” Mando said, reaching out to take the glasses from Cara.

“Maybe you’re not the boss of us,” you sassed, knocking his hand out of the way and tipping the proffered shot down your throat. You were drunk enough that it didn’t burn anymore.

“We’re celebrating, Mando!” Cara proclaimed before she downed hers too, and you both laughed at the long-suffering sigh that Mando let out.

A woman that Cara had been spending most of her free time with sauntered over to your table and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Cara smirked.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to,” she said, standing and taking the woman’s hand.

“Have fun,” you said, winking.

“You too,” she shot back.

You turned to Mando: “Welp, looks like you’re my new drinking buddy.”

He sat silent, helmet following Cara and the other woman as they left the hall.

“Oookay, then. I’m going to bed.” You slapped your palms onto the table and pushed yourself up.

Mando followed you as you stepped out into the cool night.

“Where’s the kid?” you asked.

“Asleep already.”

“That’s good. Babies need sleep.”

“He’s fifty.”

You turned to Mando, spluttering, “Fifty?!”

“Different species age differently,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, no shit... Still, that’s crazy. You have a fifty-year-old toddler. Your baby is older than you...I mean, I assume so. I don’t know how old you are. If I had to guess, I would say... Is that rude? I probably shouldn’t guess...”

Not paying attention, you started wandering in the wrong direction, and Mando laid a guiding hand on your lower back.

“Come on,” he sighed, directing you toward the barn.

You pushed out the loudest, most dramatic sigh you could muster, and he looked down at you.

“That’s you. That’s what you sound like. You looooove sighing, you know that? It’s your favorite thing, second only to the kid. You might like it even more than the kid, actually,” you mused, making yourself chuckle.

“You’re a chatty drunk,” he observed.

“Everyone is chatty compared to you, Mando.”

He grunted.

“What are you like when you’re drunk? I want to see that. Do you even drink?” You stopped walking, and he did too, visor trained on you.

“Sometimes.”

“I bet you’re a nice drunk.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, no, I know so. Because secretly you’re a nice not drunk person so I bet you’re an extra nice drunk person.” Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that your usual verbal filter was completely gone. Oh well.

“Is that right?”

“Yep, you pretend to be all scary with your sexy voice and your blasters and your bounty hunting and your fire bracelet and your shiny outfit, but really you are soft, and you love babies and helping people and carrying injured friends.”

“My sexy voice?” He titled his head suggestively.

“Really? That’s what you took from that?” You hiccupped. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what your voice sounds like. This is the way.” You hit him with your best Mando impression.

He chuckled.

Your mouth fell open, and you pointed up at him, incredulous. “You laughed.”

“I did.”

“Well, don’t do it too much or I might start to think that you’re a real human being under all that.” You gestured at his beskar.

“We wouldn’t want that,” he said, and you both started walking toward the barn again.

“Look at you, making jokes.” You tripped slightly, and Mando steadied you.

“My boot is untied,” you announced, flopping onto the ground unceremoniously to tie it.

Mando set his hands on his hips and leaned down to watch you.

You held a palm up to him. “Before you do it, I’ll sigh for you,” you said, letting out another exaggerated exhale.

He crouched down in front of you and batted your hand away, pulling your laces tight to knot them.

“You’re trying my shoe,” you said stupidly.

“Yeah, because you’re taking too long.”

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know. I am perfectly capable of getting back by myself. You can go to bed.” You waved dismissively in the direction of the barn.

“I’m not going to leave you out here drunk and alone.”

“See.” You tapped a finger against his chest plate. “Soft.”

“I guess so.”

“Andddd, I think you still feel the need to babysit me because you don’t trust me.”

He looked up at you. “That’s not true.”

“Convincing.”

He shook his head and stood up. You reached out both hands, and he gripped them, pulling you to your feet.

“How’s your leg?” he asked, replacing his hand on your back.

“Oh, it’s good. You make very tiny, very neat stitches. I was impressed. I assume you’ve had lots of practice.”

He hummed.

You hiccupped again.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you scowled up at him. “I’m not even that drunk.”

He pushed your shoulder lightly, and you stumbled.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

“Proved my point though.”

Putting all your weight behind it, you shoved his arm as hard as you could in retaliation. He didn’t falter. Taking a different tack, you snaked a hand under his arm and tickled his unarmored side. He leaped away from you.

“WHY!?” he grunted.

“You’re ticklish!” you announced triumphantly.

“No. I’m not.” But he was careful to stay more than an arm’s distance away from you.

“Yes, you are! But don’t worry, I will take your secret to my grave,” you promised solemnly, placing a hand over your heart. “It wouldn’t be good for business if everyone knew the greatest bounty hunter in the parsec could be bested via tickling.” Your voice cracked, and you dissolved into giggles.

Mando halted and turned to you, putting his hands on his hips again.

“Oh, Mando, lighten up. I’m just teasing you.”

In two decisive steps, Mando closed the distance between you, crowding you backward. You looked up at him, surprised, unable to get a read on him. “I didn’t mean—.”

In one swift movement, he hauled you over his shoulder.

“Hey!!”

He chuckled and tightened his hold around the back of your thighs. You surrendered quickly, going limp. His pauldron dug uncomfortably in your stomach, but otherwise, it wasn’t so bad.

“That is the second time you’ve laughed in the last five minutes. Are you feeling okay? Are you sure you didn’t sustain some sort of head injury yesterday?” you asked.

“Pretty sure, but I’m starting to think you might have.”

“Hilarious. You know, I could still tickle you like this,” you threatened, trailing a hand down his side.

“Not if you don’t want me to drop you,” he warned, jolting you slightly to demonstrate.

You huffed. “You can’t just cuff me or pick me up any time I’m inconvenient. That’s not how friendship works.”

“I think it works well for us,” he said as he climbed the steps to the barn.

***

The following two weeks were a period of peaceful recovery and restoration. You, Mando, and Cara helped the village return their home to normal—disposing of the dead raiders, breaking down the AT-ST, taking down the barricades, filling in the trenches. Every day, as there was less and less to do, you wondered when Mando would broach the topic of leaving. You had a feeling he, like you, was also putting it off for as long as possible. You were enjoying the easy routine you’d fallen into, spending time with the kid, Mando, Cara, and Omera; you’d happened into a community and were loath to leave it.

You were seated on the porch of the barn, watching the clouds roll slowly across the sky, when you noticed Mando making his way over.

As he walked toward you, you admired (not for the first time) the way the soft, green light of Sorgan danced across the surface of his beskar. You looked him up and down surreptitiously, wondering if he’d always worn such an elaborate outfit or if it had evolved over time. You knew the armor at least had been replaced. But had he always worn a cape? And like three layers of clothes? And the sash-like bandolier? You weren’t familiar enough with Mandalorian culture to know if they strapped all of that on as kids or if they donned the armor at a certain age...or how any of it worked.

Your eyes paused at his middle. Weren’t utility belts usually worn lower, on the hips? Not cinched closer to the trimmest part of the waist? It did seem to secure the softer part of his armor that covered his stomach, so maybe it had to be positioned there. The idea that Mando had thought about his silhouette when donning his armor was absurd... but something told you that it was not impossible. Honestly, you hoped the belt was just as much for fashion as it was for function because that was too funny. The man wears a cape... it is definitely possible that more than one part of his outfit is both aesthetic and practical.

You definitely weren’t complaining. You enjoyed the view.

You wondered if he fully understood the nature of his effect on people. He was acutely aware of how intimidating he could be; he wielded that advantage liberally and expertly, but you were unsure if he was aware of his appeal. It wasn’t just you who was drawn to him in that way—Omera, for one, was immediately taken with him. And you saw how others in the cantina that first day, or in the Sorgan public house, or even here in the village trailed their eyes down his body when he wasn’t looking.

Your face burned slightly at the memory of telling him he had a sexy voice. You were grateful you hadn’t admitted anything more embarrassing, and that he hadn’t brought it up again. To your relief, that night of joking with him had shifted things slightly—he’d been a little more relaxed around you since.

Mando walked up the steps and leaned on the wall of the barn, joining you on the porch. He glanced down at you.

“How was your patrol?” you asked.

“Good, no sign of any raiders.”

You nodded and let silence hang between you for a long moment.

“That fight was too much action for a backwater town like this though—word travels fast and it’s been a couple weeks. We should cycle the charts and move on.”

Your eyes found the child, who was seated amidst a group of children in the middle of the village. He looked so happy, giggling and playing outside in the sun. Krill flopped on the ground around him.

“I know you’re right, but the idea of taking him away from this place is... hard to think about. He’s so happy here.” You nodded your head toward the baby.

Mando heaved a sigh. He stared forward as he said, “I’m leaving him here. Traveling with me—that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe—”

You were shocked.

“Your job, Mando? Your job was to turn in an innocent child for a bounty, and you knew that was wrong, so you didn’t. After that, he became your responsibility, not just a job.” The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them.

You looked away from him, suddenly cold. He said nothing.

“I don’t understand you. You flip flop between being heartless and being caring. How do you go from saving him to leaving him in some random village? He’s attached to you. Please, explain it to me because I don’t understand.” You made no effort to hide the venom that was seeping into your voice, as every frustration you’d felt toward Mando over the last couple weeks bubbled to the surface at once.

You looked up at him. His helmet was trained on your face.

“He’ll get over it. We all do.”

You glared up at him.

“Why don’t you stay here with him? You could settle down with Omera. You know she wants you to stay.”

“She asked me to stay, but I don’t belong here.”

“You could if you wanted to. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a choice.”

You stood and walked away, leaving him on the porch. You couldn’t stand to look at his infuriatingly blank mask for one more second.

You stomped all the way to the forest’s edge and passed under the cover of the trees. You walked until you reached a clearing surrounded by chest-high berry bushes and began to pace back and forth.

What is he thinking?

How could he do that to the child?

How could he just leave him like that?

You knew it didn’t make sense that you would have a say in what happened to the kid, but you couldn’t help the fact that you’d grown attached to them both over the past several weeks. You wanted Mando to be the man you suspected he was—soft and kind-hearted. You didn’t want him to confirm that the moments of selflessness had been outliers, and he was really the ruthless bounty hunter that he looked like on the outside.

But...he was right that his life was not the best life for a child. You thought about your own lonely, unsettled, nomadic existence—not unlike Mando’s. Except, his life also included regular violence in a way that yours hadn’t in a long time. His life would be even worse for a child than yours.

And it made sense that he wasn’t willing to abandon his entire way of life, everything he knew to stay on Sorgan. That was a lot of ask of anyone. He didn’t ask for this.

You’d come out here to calm down but had only made yourself more irritated now that you’d come to the annoying conclusion that Mando was probably right. You huffed.

The threatening crunch of twigs off to your left brought you back to the present moment. You crouched amidst the bramble of berry bushes.

You watched through the tangle of branches as a figure made their way carefully through the forest. They were carrying a long rifle, their face concealed in a mask.

A bounty hunter. A tracking fob blinked in their hand.

Who is their target? The kid? Me? No, it can’t be me. The fob isn’t beeping fast enough. Mando? Cara? Probably the kid. The thought made your heart squeeze.

You stood silently to follow, keeping a safe distance behind them.

The hunter stopped at the edge of the forest, where the view of the village was clear, and set up the sniper rifle on a boulder. You waited to see where the sight was trained before making your move.

Sure enough, the scope was aimed at the baby, who was sitting on the ground beside a krill pond with Winta. Omera was standing in the water, submerging a basket, beside them.

You rushed forward, raising your blaster to the back of the hunter’s head, and pulled the trigger. Birds screeched and took off into the sky in response to the sound.

You smashed the tracker fob under the heel of your boot before rushing back to the village, knowing the ringing shot would have incited panic.

As you sprinted back to the village center, you spotted Mando. He was standing close to Omera, one hand placed reassuringly on her shoulder. The child was held tight in his other arm. Winta was hugged against her mother’s stomach. They looked like a family, the way they were huddled together.

When Mando saw you, he dropped his hand from Omera’s shoulder.

“What happened?” He looked you up and down, inspecting you for any signs of injury.

“There was a hunter in the woods. I took them out. They had a fob for the kid, Mando. They know he’s here,” you panted.

Neither of you spoke, sharing a moment of mutual understanding. You reached over to lightly stroke the kid’s ear. He cooed up at you.

“What does this mean?” asked Omera.

“It means that he isn’t safe here,” responded Mando. The pain in his voice was clear, even through the modulator.

Omera reached out for Mando’s hand, and he took hers for a moment, squeezing it gently before letting it drop.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He nodded stiffly. “Me too.”

You and Mando both turned to head to the barn at the same time. As you walked beside him, you looked over to find his helmet trained on you.

“I—uh, I owe you an apology. This would be a great place for any child to grow up—safe, loving. I get why you wanted to leave him here. I’m sorry that he won’t be able to stay now.”

Mando reached his hand out, as if to touch your arm, then thought better of it and let it fall to his side.

“You know, I actually did turn him in for the reward,” he admitted. “That’s how I got enough beskar for the new armor.” He gestured at his chest plate, hanging his head slightly, ashamed.

You looked at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“I regretted it right away and went back for him. That’s when I ran into you. Or, I guess, you ran into me. ” He let out a small huff of a laugh.

You grimaced, remembering the pain of slamming into his back.

“I understand why you were mad,” he continued. “But, I didn’t want to leave him here. I’m still trying to work out what’s best for him, but I know it’s not staying with me forever.” The thread of grief in his voice was pronounced.

You nodded in understanding, wishing you could somehow help him carry this profound responsibility. You weren’t sure how to express that, or if he wanted to hear it, or if it was your place to say it, so you settled on something else: “He’s easy to get attached to.”

Mando scoffed, “You’re telling me.”

You smiled at him, and you couldn’t be sure, of course, but you felt like he was smiling back at you.

***

You said your goodbyes and readied yourselves for departure. While you hugged the kids and packed your things, you thought about your next move.

A stubborn, cold part of you wanted to tell Mando to drop you off at the closest planet with a major port. You didn’t like that after just a few weeks, you were getting emotionally attached to the pair. It would be easier, safer, less complicated to return to your solitary existence. Plus, your continued presence added to the risk they already faced. That wasn’t fair to either of them.

The quieter, more truthful part of you wanted to stay with him and the child. It was a relief to not be alone all the time, but this was supposed to be a loose, short-lived alliance, not something that made your heart squeeze slightly when you thought about eventually going your separate ways.

You told yourself you’d wait until he brought it up, see what he wanted, and go from there.

You, Mando, and Cara stood at the speeder, ready to leave. Everyone in the village was there to see you off. After a few final goodbyes, Mando and Cara jumped into the speeder. You handed the baby to Mando.

You were about to grab the edge of the speeder to haul yourself up when he reached down to offer you a gloved hand. You accepted. The gesture didn’t surprise you—he was generally polite by nature. What did surprise you was the steadying hand that moved to your waist as you stepped carefully over crates and supplies to find a seat. He squeezed your side gently before letting you go.

***

You had prepared yourself for a conversation that never came.

As you were leaving the atmosphere of Sorgan in the Razor Crest, Mando turned to you to ask, “What are you thinking for our next move?”

He flicked some switches and pressed a few buttons on the console, and a holo-map of the area flickered into view in front of him. A constellation of planets hovered before your eyes.

***

Chapter 5

#Tempered Glass #my writing #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

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hansensgirl · 4 years

Text

salvatore | v.

series summary. — Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. — NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, stalking, obsessive behaviours, anxiety, broken glass, a panic attack, talk of bucky’s past and his mental health, angst, fluff, kissing, dark!Bucky Barnes, voyeurism, cameras, mentions of cheating, violence, perving, manipulation, feelings, 18+!!!

pairings. — Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

authors note. — finally another chapter! this one is kinda sad but the next chapter will be fluffier heh. i changed my mind and i will not be doing a sequel after i finish this series, i’m so sorry! please reblog, leave some feedback and enjoy yourself!

Bucky couldn’t believe his cerulean eyes. Tears filled them and one ran down his cheek, soaking into his beard that he just trimmed that morning. He so desperately wanted to return to your home and beg you, ask you, plead to you, why? He made sure the polaroid didn’t have even the slightest crease to it, and not even a speck of dust either. The room started to spin, and his chest began to tighten. Each breath he took in didn’t seem to be enough for him.

The polaroid slipped out of his hands and his grip on reality went with it as well. Bucky doubled over, his mouth falling open as he began to dry heave. The tears didn’t relent either. His head spun, vision blurry with crystal tears that fell easily. “Ekkk...” He choked out, the urge to throw up washing over him. He stumbled across the kitchen and reached the other side, a dull sunshine making its way into his home.

Leaning over the granite countertop, he peered out the window for intrusive passersby. Oh how he wished to see you on the other side of the bulletproof glass. His fumbling fingers found the handle of the drawer, sweat covering it slickly. As he yanked it open, his bionic, vibranium hand formed a tight fist and collided itself to the window. He pulled his arm back and continued to do so, punching and hitting at the glass that held the world back from him.

Under his breath, he cursed himself for getting strong windows that didn’t have any mechanisms to open it with. But Bucky had his reasons that nobody knew about. The glass soon began to crack beneath his sheer force, distorting his beautiful view of the outdoors. The window broke completely with a loud crash and fresh, cool air filled his nostrils.

He felt the tightness in his chest slowly beginning to go away, but he was still erratic. Reaching into the drawer that was for emergency purposes only, he pulled out a thick photo album. He flipped it open and smiled when he saw the photos of you, happy and relaxed. The sight of you at his hands calmed him down. He flipped through the pages and sighed at each photo, ones that he took of you himself.

Pictures of you sleeping, of you going to buy groceries, of you showering and of you at your most vulnerable moments. In his eyes, the pictures were a form of art — derived from his love and devotion for you. Clumsily, he pulled his favorite picture out from the flimsy plastic sleeve. Freshly printed, edges sharp and almost untouched — pristine and rare.

A candid of you smiling gently, reading the book he gave you as you listened to some forties songs that he had posted on his Instagram about. You clutched the book softly and hugged a teddy bear that was from your childhood. Oh how he would kill to be wrapped in your arms, to have you bring him back from the war his mind constantly went through, to whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Bucky soon regained his grasp on reality and he looked back at the polaroid that laid on the ground.

His jaw clenched with anger and a certain emptiness filled his eyes… Almost as if the Soldat had made a reappearance in him. Raged coursed through his veins and he growled like an animal. Slipping the photo back into the album, he strided to where the polaroid laid and picked it up. He glared at it for the last time and then crumpled it in his hand, the sound of it being destroyed was like music to his ear.

He squeezes, and squeezes, and squeezes until he can’t, until the rage inside him subsides. He loosened his grip and stared at the now destroyed photo. His faint reflection stared back at him and he couldn’t bring himself to feel a bit of remorse.

You’re his, and he’s yours. He’s your saviour, your salvatore.

Your sundress still hugged your body even though dusk had settled in the sky. It had ridden up to your thighs as you laid back on the couch. The fountain pen your ex-boyfriend had gifted you twiddled between your fingers. The poor posh cap of the pen fell in between one of the cushions, lost in a cluster of dust bunnies and one dollar bills.

You stared at the blank page of the overly exorbitant Ciak Notebook your fellow classmates and colleagues would rave on and on about. You sighed before finally writing a word. Curvy, looped letters flowed as smooth as water and you felt your jittering nerves slowly calming down. Sighing, you stared at the three letters as they stared back at you, almost taunting you that it wasn’t enough. Gnawing at your dry lips, you slowly began to feel proud of yourself.

The

It wasn’t much, but it was something. The guilt of not knowing what to write next ate at you. Would you have to throw the page away if your mind chose to restart? Or would you have to force yourself to continue the sentence? You looked away as you thought about what to do, laying your eyes on a nasty print. Dirt formed in the shape of a footstep tainted the floors of the kitchen and you sighed, realizing it was from Bucky. Oh, James…

The thought of him licked at your mind, like a searing flame of temptation. You reminisced about him, and those piercing eyes, as well as his captivating chuckle and elusive aura. Your heart hurted as you thought about how his eyes held a certain sadness to them. You saw the broken soldier beneath his veneers and he was tired, tired of a certain longing that never seemed to go away. You chuckled, shaking your head as you called yourself crazy for thinking about his eyes. Oh… maybe, maybe that's it!

The strange man’s sapphire eyes are piercing. The gaze they come with almost hurts, and she’s the first thing he lays his eyes on. Soft cheery ones that are the brightest things in the world are met with sad, worn down ones. He’s longing for something new, something that would finally fill the empty void that many people eroded away at, the hole in his heart growing deeper and deeper.

You smiled to yourself as soon as you added the period, finishing the last sentence. You wondered whether or not you should continue or stop right where you had left off. You just couldn’t let that sudden, amazing burst of muse and inspiration go, right? You grabbed your glass of white wine and downed it like a single mom after a long day of worries, ready to write your little heart away.

The pen glided across numerous pages, not daring to stop at all. Your eyebrows were furrowed with concentration, the only sounds that you could hear was people talking outside and your breathing. The shrill of your obnoxious doorbell pierced through the calmness that you revelled in for the past thirty minutes. You ignored it, picking up from where you had left off but the rapid knocking on your door made you bite your tongue with shame.

Hurryingly, you rushed to the door and swung it open, looking down to see one of Mrs. Carter’s grandchildren. You couldn’t recall her name, but she was adorable. “The man w- with the long hair, he broke his window!” She exclaimed, before running off to play with her equally small friends. You furrowed your eyebrows at the absurdity, but then what she said had finally dawned on you. You never ran faster in your life, not even in your physical education classes in high school that you envied with every fiber in your body.

Thick, jagged shards of glass littered the concrete, and you were careful to avoid them. “Bucky?” You called out, peering through the window that he had destroyed. Nowhere to be found. You moved to his door and rang the doorbell more time than you could count on your fingers. A certain dread settled in the pit of your stomach, and you thought about the worst. You spun around as you tried to find some place that he would keep a spare key.

Your best bet? Underneath the ‘welcome’ rug that you stood on.

You pulled a rusted key out from under it and you unlocked the door with no hassle. “Doll?” Bucky called out, voice weak and quiet. He was hunched over, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to come down from his severe panic attacks. One came after the other, insecurities and memories tumbling down onto him and he was trapped in a ruthless circle of repetition.

You grabbed his flesh hand, wincing at how it was slightly damn from his tear. Gently, you placed his hand on his heart and soothingly reached up to caress his cheek. “Buck, you gotta breathe with me, okay? Do the same as me.” You instructed, his eyes flashing to you as you knelt down on the floor with him. You slowled your breathing down for him to match, and he followed eventually.

“That’s it… There you go…” You praised, moving your hand from his face to his soft hair, threading your fingers through his locks gently. You reached up and lightly kissed his sheen-covered forehead, soft lips almost smoothing out his splintered edges. You didn’t pull away, keeping Bucky in your arms like he was going to be stolen away from you. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, swallowing your smaller frame into his.

His tears relented but his sobs stayed, deciding that maybe they were going to spend a night or two. You refused to shush him, knowing that letting him cry everything out could make it better. His tears soaked into your skin, leaving it damp. Your eyes scanned the house, a gasp falling from your lips as you looked at the aftermath of a storm.

The walls were dented in and scratched up — the once pristine paint was ruined completely. A few photo frames were broken and a poor vase was shattered into pieces that could easily pierce through anyone’s skin; even a super soldier’s. You just knew another war had taken place in his home — one between him and his emotions. You threaded your fingers through his hair, occasionally stopping to gently untangle some slightly stubborn knots.

He sighed under your touch and smiled as his breathing returned to normal. His heart still beat harshly but it wasn’t as bad as before. You took notice too, realizing that you didn’t feel his heart beating against your chest. You were proud of him, proud that he managed to fight the demons that probably had visited him before.

You guided him to his couch that was covered in pillow fluff and some shards of glass. You tried to find him a cleared out spot to sit on but you failed. You frowned and Bucky had to resist himself from the greatest temptation of kissing you. “Shit.” You cursed, gnawing on your bottom lip. Bucky was practically vibrating as he fought for self control, and he didn’t know whether to thank the Gods or not when you stopped.

You laced your fingers with his and you smiled at the size difference. “Oh! Your bed!” You exclaimed adorably before spotting his stairs. You darted up them and hauled Bucky behind — even though he’s 260 lbs and a hundred times stronger than you. You tried to recall where his room was, but the hazy memories from that night just weren’t helping you out.

Your hand slipped from his but you hung onto his pinky finger. You gnawed at your bottom lip and tried to recall whether it was the room on your left or your right. “Left, doll.” He husked quietly, his voice no more than a whisper. It was still hoarse from the crying, but it was nothing less. “Do you often have these…?” You asked him, struggling to find the word.

“Panic attacks? Sometimes, but they’re slowly getting better.” He spoke, sitting on the bed. Unlike any normal human, he wasn’t tired from his panic attack. No amount of exhaustion hauled over him. “You’re not tired?” You asked in curiosity, taking in how messy his room was. You couldn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t like your room was any better.

“No… Serum, makes everything, y’know…” He explained, struggling with his words. “Oh, right.” You smiled at him, noticing a few small cuts on his flesh hand. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, a gasp leaving your mouth. Bucky didn’t even notice his injuries until you pointed them out. Why would he when you’re right in front of him? “Oh… It’s nothing, doll, don’t worry.” He reassured, before ignoring the injuries.

“I don’t think so…” You countered, wanting to help him so badly. “Uh, if you want, you can help dress them for me? Only if you want to, of course! Not going to force you or anything…” He rambled, cursing himself for sounding like a complete nerve-wrecked buffoon. “Yes please, I hate seeing you — or anyone, for a matter of fact — hurt.” You smiled at him before spinning in a circle, trying to find a first aid kit.

“You see that door there? It’s in there, bottom cabinet.” He explained again, and you let out an “oh.” You walked into the bathroom and Bucky let out an exhale of air that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Found it!” You cheered. But then you grimaced. Dried blood and dirt was smeared across the white plastic of the first aid box. “Uh, that’s from past missions, before I retired.” He clarified quickly. “Oh you retired?” You asked in shock, walking back to him.

“Yeah… It’s for the best anyways.” He sheepishly replied. “May I ask why?” You questioned, popping open the box. Bucky nodded and pointed at the bandages and wipes. You picked them up and he cleared his throat. “Well, I think it’s best for everyone. Sam… I love him, but I don’t want him to be burdened by my, you know…” He clicked his tongue and pointed at his head.

“And plus, he’s Captain America, he’s capable of doing everything on his own. As for the other Avengers? Well, they’re far stronger than me, so I think they’re fine. I still keep in touch with them, but I’m not close to them.” He sighed deeply. You didn’t even start cleaning his wounds because you were too caught up in listening to Bucky speak. Your features softened at his sad tone and words.

Sympathy took over you and you hated how that was what Bucky thought of himself. “Even though Shuri took out all the stuff, I’m still not ready to go back into daily wars. I also think I deserve a break, ‘m tired of all that violence.” He sighed deeply, before grabbing the pack of wipes that you struggled to open. “But if they ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He added quickly, making you give him a sad smile. He tore the aluminum open for you and you thanked him.

“Before you ask, yes, I’ve tried therapy. Sam referenced me, but it just didn’t work. I guess… I guess I’m just rotten work…” He mumbled at the end, even though you heard him loud and clear. “What!? No! You, Sir, are the farthest thing from rotten work. You- you’re a survivor! You’re strong, you’re a sweetheart, you fight for this world and you deserve nothing less than happiness and everything good in the world!” You exclaimed, taking both yourself and Bucky by surprise.

“Why do you tell yourself these things, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, cleaning up his cuts. He didn’t wince at all, but you pay no mind to that. “I… Ever since I was captured by HYDRA, that’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve thought of myself as a monster, a vile human being, a machine, the list goes on and on.” He admitted and your heart broke even more.

“They used to refer to me as ‘it,’ not a human, not a victim, not even by ‘Soldat’ and that just stuck with me.” He gulped through tears and you knew it was a sensitive subject. “Maybe you could try therapy once you’re ready? I know it may seem scary facing everything, but it’ll be worth it. You can take my advice with a grain of salt or not, but you need to know that you’re the complete opposite of any negative thing your mind comes up with. Also, fuck HYDRA.” You said with a smile on your face.

Bucky chuckled and then handed you the roll of gauze that was in his hand. “Thank you.” You whispered under your breath, before scrunching your face up in concentration. Even though you had no damn idea as to what you were doing, you were determined to bandage his wounds. Bucky’s eyes raked up and down your face and he didn’t even care if you were wrapping his wounds incorrectly.

“Uh… I know this may sound forward- but do you want to go on a second date?” Bucky asked after a few beats of silence. You choked on your spit and cursed under your breath. After a few moments, you finally calmed down. “D- date?” You questioned incredulously. “I believe that’s what I said, doll.” Bucky chuckled lightheartedly. A little “oh,” escaped your lips and you began to gnaw on your lip. Yes… yes you do have feelings for Bucky — but this is so wrong. You only left he-who-shall-not-be-named a few months ago…

But isn’t it good that you’re moving on? Your inner monologue conflicted with your entire being and Bucky can’t help but to be concerned. “Everything okay?” He asked, playing with the loose ends of the gauze. “I… Can I be honest with you, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, wringing your hands together nervously. “Of course, doll, and it’s Bucky.” He smiled.

“Well… A few months ago I got out of a toxic relationship, and I’m still healing from it. He really destroyed me, and so did the break up. I’m ready, but I’m also not ready, if that makes sense. Uhm… Is it fine if we just take it slow? Or if you can give me some time?” You shyly toks. Bucky’s heart clenched and he slowly began to nod his head. “Of course, doll. Whatever you need you can ask me.” He reassured you, feeling the urge to caress your face.

“Thank you so much, Bucky!” You gleamed delightfully. Bucky looked at you as though you hung the stars. “No need to thank me, doll. I’m just gonna be there for you every step of the way.” He shook his head in a sort of reassuring manner. Your eyes fell to your hands and Bucky worked on fixing your bandages.

“Do… Do you think we’re moving too fast?” You asked him after a few silent pauses. “I’m not sure… I think we’re moving at the right pace.” He affirmed, flopping back into his bed. You stood up and towered over him for the first and only time ever. “I mean- I barely even know anything about you! Aside from the stuff we learned in history class and any information about you before 2016 — please don’t ask. I literally kissed you, and we only met a few days before I think? I’ve only ever been in one actually serious relationship so I wouldn’t know but-” You rambled like a mad man before Bucky cut you off by grabbing onto your hand.

“Doll, you’re rambling.” He bluntly told you. “Sorry… It’s just a habit of mine.” You apologized sheepishly, growing shy and embarrassed under his almost painful stare. “I guess you may think you’re moving fast because of your last relationship. Didn’t you take it slow, doll?” He asked you, making you purse your lips. “Yes…” You answered after some momentary hesitation. “And didn’t you say it was toxic?” He questioned you, making you slowly nod your head.

“Did you want to move slowly?” He inquired after giving you a sad smile. “Well, not really. I mean- we dated for around four years and every time I’d try to move forward in the relationship he’d always tell me that we have all the time in the world.” You explained, skipping over some details because you were sure that Bucky didn’t need to know about how your boyfriend was in his best friend’s guts.

“Do you want to move at a decent pace at least?” He asked you, and suddenly you let out a hearty sigh. “I do, I really do, Bucky. But I just don’t know what a ‘decent pace’ is! Or- or how to even be in an actually decent relationship!” You cried out in hysterics. “That’s okay! I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” He reassured you, and then you realized how worked up you were.

“Really?” You asked in shock, dealing as though you were in some sort of cheesy romcom. “Mhm! Trust me, I’ve been alive for a while, so I know quite a lot.” He said with a smile. Your face mirrored his and you felt relaxed in the presence of Bucky. For now. “Uh- Thank you so much, Bucky! You’re the best-” You thanked him cheerfully, before cutting yourself off as you noticed the time.

Bucky frowned when you let out a disappointing sigh. “Is everything okay? ‘Cause I was really enjoying all that praise.” He joked around, making you giggle. “Uh yeah- I just realized that I have a job interview in an hour and should probably go get ready.” You groaned loudly, earning a snort from Bucky. “Talk to you soon?” You asked him. “Of course, doll.” He nodded his head in a sort of Jay Gatsby way and you felt tingles across your spine.

“Bye!” You said as you pressed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek. You turned and left his room, leaving Bucky a blushing fool. His hand came up to touch where you kissed him and he sighed sweetly. Bucky kept his hand there and flopped back onto his bed like a teenage girl who held a five second conversation with her crush. “Oh, doll.”

You bit your lip to hold in a childish squeal. You wanted to kiss Bucky’s cheek ever since you met him, and you finally did. But unfortunately, through the euphoric feeling that was running through your body you still felt bad. There was no job application — god, you couldn’t even find it in you to print a new resumé. You lied to James Buchanan Barnes and got away with it like you were some sort of spy. But you couldn’t just tell him what you were going to do.

No way. You skipped all the ten steps to your home and couldn’t stop smiling. Is this what it’s like to be in a romcom? If it was, then you were ready to be in one for the rest of your life. You shut the door behind you and made your way up to your bedroom. Your steps echoed behind you and you bit your lip to control your smile.

You unlocked the door to your room and sat at your dresser with a sort of heaviness weighing you down. You had procrastinated it for so long, but it was time. You opened up the bottom drawer and took out the old cigar box Steve had given you to store your stories in. Your smile faltered at the memory that used to bring you so much joy. You unlatched the box and sighed deeply at the sight of Steve’s belongings.

A few polaroids of the two of you, a watch of his, a compass with your picture, a locket with his grin plastered on it, a promise ring- so many memories. Finally, it was time to let go of him. But were you ready? Were you really ready to say goodbye to the man that taught you about love? How does one say goodbye to a man like Steve Rogers? But he told you, there’s no saying goodbye to him.

Not yet, at least.

388 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 4 years

Text

Thai BL: Best Trope Execution Awards

Being an entirely arbitrary and opinionated decision making process of one... me. This is a decade long retrospective. During Award Season I’ll do one specifically for 2020.

THE WINNERS!

Did You Bring a Towel? - there are more tropey executions of this (the sponge bath and the bridal hair dry in Make it Right come to mind), but when I think about towels in BL it’s always Win yanking the towel off Team that comes to mind, so WinTeam takes this category for Until We Meet Again.

Proximity Alert - a hard fought category what with Puppy Honey's paint splatter incident but I have to give it to Ae & Pete and the bicycle meet cute because it’s two perfectly executed tropes in one. And because I love them so much. Love By Chance wins.

Minister to my artful injury? - Pick & Rome in Puppy Honey because they manage to be both caring and silly about it, and it happens multiple times.

The Fast and the Bicurious - another one I dithered over. In the end I went for Forth & Beam in 2 Moons 2 because it’s so in Forth’s character to scare Beam into dating him, and also I like that they played with the trope in a different way.

The Heart Knows - I’m giving this to Can in LBC2 because he goes through it the most and takes the longest to realize what’s happening. Poor Can.

Hair Tousle - okay so Sarawat and Ae do this trope the most, King and few others have very significant moments of head touching, but it’s going to go to Type in TharnType. These two aren’t the hair tousle kind of couple, but this marks the first time Type voluntarily initiates physical contact with Tharn entirely of his own free will. It’s also precipitates my favorite kiss in all BL, so they take the cake on this one.

The Hand Hold – although Dean & Pharm hold hands the most, and I adore Tee & Fuse on the train, I have to give this trope to Phun & Noh in the bookstore in Love Sick. I doubt any other romance, let alone BL, will come close to the angsty teen pathos of that one moment.

The Piggyback of Nobility - Korn & Knock in Together with Me. It marks a kind of breakthrough in their relationship and they’re so sweet about it. Plus I like the way the piggyback connects their adult love to their childhood friendship.

Post-it Love Note - again one that probably should go to Sarawat & Tine but I just can’t with the product placement, plus Pete & Kao in the swing with the post it notes is so flipping precious. So Dark Blue Kiss it is.

Pinky Promise - has to got to Mes & Thun in He’s Coming to Me partly because of the wistfulness of not being able to touch but still believing in the promise. It’s beautiful.

Share My Earbuds? - this goes to Sarawat & Tine in 2gether, of course. Who else has the balls to share earbuds and listen to music at someone else’s concert?

Bath Time! - oh Fighter & Tutor take this one, hands down (innuendo intended). Why R U? for the win.

Kiss Me In The Car - Ae & Pete get this one in Love By Chance. It’s their first kiss, it starts as an accident, and goes from there. And Ae actually talks about it and tries to explain his feelings. It’s adorable.

The Cheek Kiss of True Love - oh this one goes to Solo in Oxygen, who kisses Gui super early on in their relationship and as a way of making his intentions perfectly clear. It’s beautifully done.

Clutch That Pillow - this one goes to Zon in Why R U? who does it multiple different times and in multiple different moods.

Meet Me in the Library - King & Ram in My Engineer, of course. Dean & Pharm are adorable in their library kissing scene but King’s love at first tattoo is so good. Also (see with proximity alert above) I like when a trope is combined with a meet cute.

This Pool Was Meant for Kissing - I am sorry to the other contenders, like Fighter & Tutor and Solo & Gui, but this was always going to go to Pete & Kao. Partly because it’s the first time we see Kao kiss Pete (in Kiss Me Again) and also the last time we see him initiate a kiss (in Dark Blue Kiss). I am a big fan of the uke showing sexual agency.

Let Me Sing You My Feelings - I rightly should give this one to Oxygen since it beats our ears with this trope constantly, but it’s going to Ingredients for Ep 16. The number of emotions that cross Win’s face in the course of two songs while he watches Tops flirt with someone else is INSANE. Win keeps singing yet you see him go through an entire identity crisis - realization of love, jealousy, fear, adoration, loss, and more. It’s brilliant. And Jeff’s voice is crazy good. Even if you aren’t a fan of this series, you owe it to yourself to watch this episode.

In the next episode he sings, plays, and acts all at the same time. So yeah. Sorry everyone else. Win wins.

I Saw You Feed Him! - Dean & Pharm. DEAN & PHARM. DEANANDPHARM!!! Like there is ANY other choice. Until We Meet Again is basically a love story to Thai desserts... with some reincarnation thrown in.

Lie on the Ground, Stare Winsomely the One You Love - King & Ram take this category too for My Engineer. What can I say? When it comes to pining, no one does it better.

Put Your Head On My Shoulder - although Kong & Arthit execute this one very very well it’s going to Phun & Noh because it’s such a signifiant moment for them in Love Sick 2.

There’s Something About the Way He Swallows - a hotly contested category with every studly seme weighing in from Sarawat to Fighter to Forth. But it has to go to Tharn in TharnType. He basically seduced Type away from heterosexuality by drinking from a water bottle. That’s some seriously powerful swallowing.

That’s MY BOYFRIEND - there are lots of good public claimings, and it’s one of my favorite tropes, but I’m giving this one to Arthit who does it twice:

in front of all his friends in SOTUS,

and then in front of all his co-workers in SOTUS S.

(Look yes, Can kissing Tin in LBC2 is probably the single most impactful example of this, but Arthit did it first and did it twice, so I have to give it to him.)

I Touch My Lips and Think of Kissing - I’m giving this one to Saint who does it as Pete and as Tutor, but totally differently each time, because he’s a genius actor. Normally I prefer to award characters, not actors, but for this one I’m making an exception. So Why R U? and Love By Chance take this category.

Best Thing About a Boyfriend? His Closet! - giving this one to Sarawat & Tine because the matched jersey is such a thing for them. I wanted to give it Phun & Noh because of the uniform plot point in Love Sick, but the visual in 2gether is just too powerful.

Under My Umbrella - oh it should be Pha & Yo in 2 Moons. It’s such a significant moment in that story and it basically established this trope for Yaoi. Except, then SOTUS comes in and sweeps this category with this gem...

Baby is a Floppy Drunk - Tine is hands down the best comedic execution of this trope, and Captain gives us the best in character performance as drunk Noh in Love Sick 2, but it plays the most significantly into Tee & Fuse’s story arc so Fuse wins this category for Make it Right.

K’ that’s it. Which trope did you want to see that I forgot? I’m sure I missed some.

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canariie · 3 years

Text

under the blue moon

Rating: K+

Synopsis: One of their first meetings at night: though they may have been on different paths in school, under the light of the blue moon, they found themselves coming back to a home they both didn’t know they needed.

Word Count: 3050 words

Setting: Shinigami Academy Days (post Bleach Chapter -16 & somewhere in between Bleach Drama CD Track 08 'Flashback')

Prompt: Hitsuhina Week 2021 Day 2 - Dream / On a Field of Ice

Authour’s Note: I’m here! I’m here! I know it’s been a while but I have been loving all of the posts that everyone has been doing for this weeks celeberation!! So lovely to see the hitsuhina community alive :)

Sorry this was late but this has been sitting in my wips for about a year? And I had most of it written but it was harder to finish since it had been so long! However, when I saw the themes for this year’s @hitsuhina-week, I knew I had to finish it up!

Special shout out to Aoi Tori & Still With You being the songs that I played continuously on repeat to finish this up :)

Enjoy!

—

Momo clutched the fabric of her uniform as she looked dejectedly at the final report. No matter the amount of times that she stared at the red marks on the paper, they didn’t disappear. Her vision blurred as an onslaught of tears pricked at her eyes, making her head hurt. For once this semester, Momo was glad she was alone so her roommate wouldn’t see her in such a sorry state.

At the end of the fifth year were the practical’s that determined what concentrations one would focus on in their last years of study before graduating from the Academy. Momo, Renjii and Izuru were all studying different paths to focus on: Renjii in physical swordmanship, and Momo and Izuru with the demon arts, hers in combat and his in healing. For the past couple weeks, the trio had been studying and practicing almost every waking hour that they were not in class. Also, as part of the advanced class, there was an expectation that one would pass all the practical’s in the first round before continuing on. If not, one had to wait until the next semester before taking the exam again.

Unfortunately, the brown-haired girl had pushed herself to the point of exhaustion. On top of the near sleepless nights, her anxiety had grown inside her, almost crippling her. Momo had usually preferred taking written tests over the physical tests since she could pull things easily from memory. However, the thought of failing the exam had left her mind at a blank when she tried to remember the incantations for the written portion of the exam. The fear of failure haunted her still to the physical component where they practiced different spells and she found herself missing the target—and almost singeing the hair off her professor’s head.

She didn’t wait a second longer after the dismissal and ran to her room, ignoring Renjii and Izuru’s concerned looks. Momo locked herself inside, hiding herself underneath all her many blankets. There was no need to look at the practical results posted outside the Grand Assembly Hall as she already knew it in her heart—she didn’t need to physically see it.

Momo sighed as she looked at the clock in her room, signaling it was way past the time she usually went to sleep. Even the sight of the blue moon illuminating a path on her bed couldn’t cheer her up, and Momo tucked her feet in, pulling her knees tight to her chest. She didn’t know how long she had cried but now she felt exhausted and spent. Skipping dinner didn’t really help her cause and it only left her to focus on the bitter thoughts that replayed and occupied her mind.

I’m so pathetic…how am I ever going to become a vice captain if I can’t even pass the practical’s.

The wind howled outside and she could hear the branch of the tree hitting her window, reminding her of windy nights in Junrinan.

I wish I were home now with Obaa-san…and Shiro-chan.

The tree rapped at her window persistently.

How can I face them with marks like this? What would they say?

Louder and louder the noise grew, competing with the roaring outside.

What a disappointment I am…

The noise grew louder and it as almost as if something knocking urgently at her window. Momo turned her head just as a white tuft of hair popped up, follow by the two scrawny arms of her childhood friend.

“Shiro-chan!” Momo gasped. “What are you doing? You can’t climb in through the window!”

“And why not?” Toushiro retorted as he pulled himself on the ledge. “There’s no one here to stop me.” He looked around, noticing the empty room. “Where’s your roommate?”

“She went home for the weekend,” she responded quickly, distracted by the way the boy was perched on the window sill. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you should have used the dorm entrance! You could have gotten hurt!”

“I climb trees all the time back home,” he replied offhandedly, “Climbing up to your window is no different.”

“That doesn’t matter Shiro-chan! You can still get hurt!” Momo could feel her anxiety pick up as she shook her head furiously, her pig tails whipping around.

Toushiro gave her a pointed look. “Hinamori, didn’t you say you would call me ‘Hitsugaya’ by now?”

She bit back a retort as she did realize, yes that she had agreed to that when he had entered the academy. “It’s still taking me a while to get used to,” Momo mumbled.

He scoffed and settled himself on the ledge. A part of Momo wanted to urgently grab him and pull him inside, for fear of him falling. However, what rooted her on her bed was the knowledge that her deeply inquisitive childhood friend would immediately notice her dried tear tracks—and she did not want him to see her in such a sorry state.

Though she seemed anxious of his safety on the outside, inside she was elated that he was here. It had been a while since they had properly seen each other, with the last time being when she introduced Toushiro to Izuru. The first year was extremely busy Momo remembered, and she had hardly seen Toushiro except for quick glimpses of his white hair moving through the hallways. Their lunch schedules were also different as she had practical’s during the first-year lunch slot—so even those moments were hard to come by. Now looking at him in his uniform, it was the first time that Momo realized how much he had grown into his clothes. It didn’t hang off his slender body, like his clothes in Jurinran did. Almost as if…

“You’ve gained weight,” Momo stated softly.

The boy turned his head sharply towards her. “What?”

Her eyebrows rose in shock, suddenly realizing the misimplications of what she just said. “No-no! I mean you look healthy! It’s a good thing!” Her warm brown eyes crinkled fondly. “I’m happy you’re able to eat more here.”

Toushiro’s eyes widened, before he narrowed them. “I had enough to eat at Obaa-san’s. Not that you would know.”

After he said it, he immediately regretted it when he saw her face fall. Momo grabbed her arms, tucking her them further into herself.

“You’re right,” Momo admitted. “I wasn’t there often for you and Obaa-san.” She sighed dejectedly. “I’m such a terrible person…”

A silence stretched in between them that no one wanted to fill. Toushiro didn’t know what he had planned that night—words of comfort weren’t really his forté and he didn’t want to get too close to her in case he hurt her. But he knew inside, he had to make sure she was alright.

“I saw the results posted outside the Assembly Hall.” He looked at her with his dark jade eyes. “…how are you?” It was just above a whisper, but something inside her broke.

Her eyes glimmered with tears and could feel a sob crawl into her throat. Though she had not wanted to alarm her dear friend, when she looked into his eyes, she found herself retelling everything. From the hours of study to the actual exam day, as Momo recounted everything she could visibly see Toushiro soften with a look of pity. “I’m so pathetic,” Momo commented as she picked a stray thread on her bed spread, “if I can’t pass the practical’s, how can I even think of becoming a vice captain?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here…” she turned her face into the pillow, refusing to look at the boy.

Toushiro remained rooted on the ledge, frozen and unsure what to do. He had never seen Momo this dejected before and yet, he didn’t know what he could offer for comfort.

Though it was a couple steps, it felt like a mile-wide gap. His shoulders tucked into himself and he could feel his resolve crumbling. The necessary distance to keep her safe was pushing her further away. Toushiro could see Momo receding back into a shell that was not the confident girl he knew—and it ached inside to see her in such a sorry state.

“And-and I could feel the anxiety in my stomach,” Momo lamented softly. “My mind blanked and I couldn’t remember anything…it was like I was paralyzed.” Even now thinking about it again made Momo want to curl back into a ball and hide away from the shame. Clutching her head, she moaned, “And now my head just hurts…”

All of a sudden Momo felt a cool touch on her forehead. Like a sigh of clarity, she could feel her mind slow down and the dull ache that was throbbing in the back began to dissipate. What felt like a tempest of anxiety inside her chest dulled to a breath of fresh winter air.

Momo looked up in wonderment. “…How?”

Just as quick, Toushiro pulled his hand back, almost as if he had burned himself. “I can’t control it well but that should help your headache for a bit.” His jade eyes flickered anxiously at the proximity. “However, I shouldn’t stay close,” he said as he began to move himself away.

“No!” Momo yelped as she scrambled to pull his hand in. “Please don’t go,” her voice broke at the last note. She couldn’t handle being by herself for another moment longer. Momo looked up and could see an inner storm inside the boy’s eyes. For as much as his body was stiff with shock, his eyes gave it away that he fought a battle within to bring himself to stand by her bedside.

He sighed in defeat and Momo could instantly feel a lightness in her chest. “I’ll stay…” he managed out weakly. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Time seemed to stretch out infinitely for even the hanging blue moon wouldn’t say what hour it was. What initially was an anguished long sleepless night became a comfortable quiet accompanied by the soft whistles of the wind. Her eyelids fell heavily though Momo struggled to remain awake, determined to be as present as she could now that her friend was here. However, she could not resist the quick falls of slumber, especially when she began to sense soft sapphire lights after she closed her eyes.

“Your reiatsu…I can start to see it now.” Momo sighed in content.

“Really?” He was shocked as he had just started to work on controlling it. The first years were required in their core classes to practice channeling their reiatsu before proceeding further in the rest of the Shinigami curriculum.

“I don’t think I ever realized before how…blue it was.” She smiled to herself. “It’s like snow—like the first day that I met you.” He too remembered that day well; it was the first one in his memories.

Toushiro was apprehensive as he laid the back of his hand on her forehead. “Does it…hurt?”

“No…It’s actually comforting.” She closed her eyes as she whispered. “It reminds me of home.”

At that point, Toushiro was glad that it was the dark of the night for his ears felt as if they were on fire–and he couldn’t imagine how red his face was. Momo’s breaths had evened and he could see her chest move up and down peacefully. He was glad to see her eyebrows relaxed and a peaceful expression of sleep on her face.

He trailed the back of his fingers down her cheek and could feel the dried tracks of her tears. “Stupid…” he muttered, “don’t keep everything to yourself.”

This was the first time since coming to school that he had tried channeling his rieatsu. Since he had almost unwillingly froze his grandmother to death, Toushiro isolated himself from the rest of his class— in case he had hurt anyone unintentionally. He couldn’t risk hurting anyone so he shied away from handshakes, familiar gestures and cornered himself in the back of the crowd—never close enough to touch another soul. Even now today, he second guessed coming here. It was only seeing the results pinned on the door that cleared his doubts and he took off in the night.

This was the first time that he was so physically close to someone.

It terrified him to be beside Momo.

It shocked him more that she was comforted by his reiatsu.

He hadn’t seen her for a long time since she was so busy studying. Even though they were now in the same school, he felt even more distant from her. A part of him resented that she had not come home more to visit him and Obaa-san. A small voice would coax in his ear that she had abandoned him and solely him by moving on to new friends. He knew it was irrational to think so but it was difficult to deny himself that bitterness. That being said, he couldn’t fight the feeling of making sure she okay—which as long as he was in school, he could do.

Toushiro wasn’t rushing to finish his studies; as long as he could control his rieatsu and powers, that was the main reason he would stay.

Well….He looked down as he felt Momo clutch his shirt in her hand.

Maybe that wasn’t the only reason.

The dreams had not stopped since he had entered the academy. From the moment he closed his eyes, he could feel himself falling back until he hit hard ground.

It was always the same world.

White plains stretching as far and wide to meet the sunless horizon. There was no sense of day and night. Only the dead spindly trees piercing the sky indicated that life couldn’t continue in this hopeless place. Toushiro always felt like these were the premonitions of his inevitable future, a feeling that knotted at the pit of his stomach.

However, he was never alone. A thundering noise always echoed in the distance but he could never place it. Though far, he could feel its intensity at the tip of his fingers, as if beckoning him to grab a hold of it.

It was only when a grand ice dragon appeared in front of him that it turned dark with a winter storm.

Toushiro had to draw his arms up against the torrid bursts of biting wind. Though it did not move, Toushiro could feel its ancient presence of powers from far before him, holding his stare and rooting him to ground. It was crushing him and embracing him—as if thunder was falling in his palms.

“Who are you!” But a loud burst of wind obscured the thunderous roar of the dragon. “I can’t hear you!” And again and again he would call out, wanting and yearning to learn of this beast—but never would he get far before waking up in a cold sweat.

Until tonight, when the storm receded and the quiet came.

The dragon stood, as if waiting for Toushiro to make the first move. Throwing back his head, he gazed up and stared into his blood red eyes. Maybe he should’ve been afraid of dying a cold death. But instead, he felt a kinship to this icy beast—almost as if they had the same soul. Looking into the beast’s eyes he could recognize loneliness.

And it ached inside him.

“There are things I want to protect with this borrowed strength…”

The desperation clawed from inside of his chest; a deep well of pent up feelings brimming to the surface so much so that he wanted no more than to fling it out as much as he could.

“I want to protect…”

A desire grew inside for the energy that thrummed inside, to take it and use it. To let it consume him and envelop him whole for a now clear goal.

A flash of warm brown eyes appeared in his mind.

“I want to protect her!”

The dragon roared again but this time Toushiro could feel its power resonate inside him, as if he were the one calling out to be named.

“My name is…Hyourinmaru!”

His eyes flew open in shock and his could see his breath appear in a puff of frost. Immediately, he turned his head trying to look at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Mmhh…Shiro-chan.” He looked down to see Momo’s head against his chest, clutching his shirt tightly. Somehow, in the middle of the night, she had pulled herself onto his chest and tucked herself right under his chin. Toushiro’s visceral reaction was to push her off before she caught hypothermia from him. However, right as he grabbed her shoulders he felt immediate warmth flow into his hands. It traveled through his whole body, alleviating any anxiety that Toushiro had.

Is she countering my rieatsu with her’s?

He could sense a soft red orange glow and warmth emanating from Momo. As she breathed softly against his chest, the warmth grew in intensity, like a candle that flickers during a cold night. It reached inside him to his soul and sent welcome heat throughout his body. Toushiro closed his eyes in content and wrapped his arms around her instinctively.

What was that about?

As if frost had melted off a glass pane, his dream was clearer than ever before. Instead of the sound of thundering obscuring its name, Toushiro had been able to heed the voice of the dragon and even feel it resonate inside his soul. Hyourinmaru...even its name echoed immense power.

For now, many questions were running through his mind. However, a realization as clear as a bell in the night ran through his head.

Toushiro looked down at the sleeping form, blissfully unaware of all that had transpired. Though they were in complete darkness of the middle of the night, the blue moonlight only highlighted her features. Long thick lashes that were once spiked with tears rested gently against his chest. Her mouth slightly open as she sighed in content. Toushiro had never seen Momo look so at peace, which he realized, quelled the inner storm of his world.

This power, it’s meant to protect her…

In the back of his mind, he could hear the roar of the dragon, almost as if in assent.

And with that he closed his eyes—ready to face a new day with his resolution in his arms.

—

Authour’s Note: This was inspired by a post I had seen once talking about how Momo’s fire rieatsu counteracted Toushiro’s icy one -- which was one of the reasons that Obaa-san started to freeze after Momo left. (headcanon post by @alexiethymia) I loved the premise though, especially that I can totally see it as canon that their powers both balance each other out and they really are stronger together :)

I also definitely headcanon that through some revelation concerning Momo does Toushiro finally overcome whatever inner block he has and is able to learn the name of his zanpaktou. Definitely inspired by the drama CDs, I think there’s such rich material that expands on the hitsuhina relationship. In my mind, she’s kind of the like the defroster on his frosty glass that is his mind hahahaha

See you all in the next one :)

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina week 2021 #momo hinamori #Toshiro Hitsugaya #i realize i have a fic trope #it's writing hitsuhina at night #idk why #but i fully admit to it #SO MUCH POTENTIAL IN LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS #haha but definitely hinting at what the next one will also be of lolol #canariie: my fics #bleach fanfiction #hitsugaya x hinamori #Hitsugaya Toushiro #hinamori momo

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redhoodieone · 4 years

Text

It’s Cold in Here Part 12

Hi everyone! Here is Part 12 and I hope you all enjoy! Stay safe! 😘

WARNINGS: Language and violence.

Stone cold. Ice Queen. A beautiful dead corpse is all I see when I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The midnight blue off the shoulder long formal dress I’m wearing is worth more than my apartment. The diamond belt around my waist is something I’ve never dreamt of wearing. The two slits above my thighs is something I’ve absolutely never dreamed of showing before.

I didn’t pick out the dress. Alfred had delivered it to my apartment this morning.

A hairstylist and makeup artist that Bruce had hired had come by just three hours ago to do my hair and makeup. My long hair is pinned up in a beautifully bun, and two long strands of my hair are let down, and frame my face nicely.

My makeup is natural looking. I’m grateful the lovely woman had noticed my discomfort and decided against the heavy makeup, and instead had given me natural look.

After she had left, I remained in my bathroom in a frozen, unsure state. On the counter lies a large jewelry box from Dick, with a note I hadn’t exactly looked at.

I inhale sharply and gaze down at the note.

Wear this jewelry with the new dress. You’ll look stunning. Love, Dick.

I can feel my chest ache with nerves and uncertainty. Opening the jewelry box, I’m instantly shocked to see a gorgeous diamond choker, two large diamond stud earrings, and a simple diamond and sapphire bracelet.

I don’t want to wear any of it. I already feel guilty enough to have to go to Bruce’s gala tonight. And even worse...

Accepting Dick’s marriage proposal.

I slip on the jewelry and finally look into the mirror with my head up high. I notice that I look exactly like the girls Dick used to date back then. The kind of girls I would never become.

A gold digger.

Eye candy.

Fame seeker.

I’m aware that I’m starting to slowly lose myself to Dick. After that awful night of him forcing me to do sexual acts with him, I notice he’s become more distant than I was. We haven’t even spoke since; only text messaging and having Alfred be the messenger between us.

Poor Alfred...he has absolutely no clue of what’s happening between me and Dick. I know for a fact that Dick must have lied to him. Dick must have told Alfred he’s nervous about proposing to me or something.

The thought of Dick manipulating everyone makes me wonder how far and long he’s willing to go just to save his face and reputation. Would he even manipulate Bruce?

If Bruce truly believed our “engagement” was real, then he would surely be fooled like everyone else. And then that would be very humiliating and disappointing for the detective; the so called Dark Knight.

I slip on my black high heels and force myself to head to the living room to wait for Alfred to pick me up. I mentally scold myself to get my shit together just to get through the night. But it’s obviously hard to put on a brave face when all I want to do is lie in bed and ugly cry all day and night.

No one will ever understand what is going on between me and Dick.

My best friends Artemis and Zatanna.

The Batfamily.

Justice League.

All of Gotham.

Jason.

I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes just thinking about him. Jason Todd. He was my last hope. The night I tried calling him to come help me was a failure.

He was supposed to break free from whatever Mad Hatter did to him.

He was supposed to help me figure out how to end Deathstroke’d evil bullshit.

He was supposed to save me from Dick Grayson.

Jason was supposed to be my hero.

My doorbell rings, interrupting my thoughts as well as bringing me back to the harsh reality. I grab my black clutch that holds my cell phone and surprisingly hides my knife.

Just in case...

Alfred smiles at me the second I open the door. “I must say, you are an absolute beauty tonight. I’ll have to fight off men for you, Miss Y/N. Are you ready to leave?”

“Thank you Alfred. And yes, I’m ready please,” I say, stepping out and locking up the front door before Alfred escorts me to the elevators.

I’m grateful that Alfred keeps to himself most of the time. He keeps a space between us until we reach outside; the dark gloomy sky of Gotham sends a shiver down my bare back. I immediately regret not getting my white shawl to cover my shoulders. Alfred guides me to the limo and opens the back door for me to climb in.

“Master Dick is already at the gala. He said he’ll meet us out front for the red carpet pictures.”

I want to scoff. But instead I respond as nicely as I can. “Okay, thank you.”

My cell phone rings. I quickly open my clutch and tense up when I see the unknown number.

Deathstroke.

I look at the unread text message.

You better make sure you accept his proposal, Y/N. You’ll have to see it through if you and Dick want to live.

I can feel myself choking up from just the fear of this text message. Before I could even think or really do anything, the limo stops. We’re here.

Alfred opens my door and holds a hand out for me to grab onto. “Here we are, Miss Y/N,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Alfred,” I say, with a small smile.

Alfred helps me out of the limo and as soon as he releases me, the paparazzi surround me. I’m forced to shield my eyes with a hand from what feels like a hundred cameras flashing at me. A hand grabs my wrist and I’m pulled closely to a warm, tall body. I look up and see Dick Grayson.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Dick asks, kissing my forehead, smiling down at me, pretending to be my loving concerned boyfriend.

I’m frozen from the affection but it doesn’t last long as Dick leads me inside the humongous building that’s holding Bruce’s gala.

I’m completely dazed from the million lights shining down on us when we enter the room. The ballroom is like a dream; marble flooring and exquisite art and statues surround everywhere. Men and women are dressed to the nines.

I even spot some Justice League members in disguise. Clark, Diana, Oliver, and Dinah are here and dressed so good.

I even spot Artemis with Conner and Zatanna with Tim, and even Damian, who are clearly shocked to see me here and with Dick.

I don’t blame them for being surprised as hell considering I’ve been MIA since...the last time they saw me or even spoke to me.

I frown and try to pull away from Dick’s strong grip to go speak to my friends, but he only tightens his hold on me.

My gaze shifts over to where bachelor and striking Bruce is standing in front of a tall man and blonde woman. My heart suddenly stops when I see Jason, handsome and sexy as ever in an all black suit with Isabel on his arm. He turns around and notices I’m staring at him. I expect him to glare at me or even give me a weird look since he clearly doesn’t remember me because of Mad Hatter.

But Jason doesn’t. He actually looks...confused.

I notice his dark hair is gelled but the messy spikiness is there. Possibly from running a hand through it. I automatically want to run my hand through his hair. I even want to hug him. I want to kiss him.

I want him.

I want Jason.

Dick practically drags me to the stage where he lowers his head to look me straight in the eyes.

“It’s going to happen right now. I can’t wait any longer,” Dick admits.

I swallow hard. “Okay, but could we talk about this first? Please?”

Dick shakes his head. Is he really going to ignore and pretend that this is all real? “It’s happening. I’m...I’m going to ask you to marry me. You’re going to say yes. You’re going to kiss me. And-and we’re going to live happily after. Do you understand?” he snaps, barely quiet enough for others to not hear.

My eyes glance over at Jason, who blinks a few times and looks all around himself and appears to be more aware. He turns to Isabel and he becomes angry; startling her and Bruce, and even others around them.

I look back to Dick, but I suddenly gasp in shock when I see Wally entering the gala in a suit. He stops walking as soon as he sees me and Dick closely together.

This is wrong.

I can’t say yes to Dick.

I can’t do this to Jason and Wally. This isn’t fair to them.

Wally loves Dick.

And I love Jason.

And the thought of saying yes to Dick makes me feel guilty because I don’t want to marry him.

I can’t lie.

I can’t pretend anymore.

I can’t do this.

We’ll find a way to stop Deathstroke. We’ll find a way to help Dick.

Dick stares down at me. His blue eyes are burning into mine. He looks pissed at me. He looks like he hates every single part of me. He sees me as his enemy.

But he can’t or won’t see how this is killing me.

“I...can’t. I can’t say yes and I can’t marry you,” I confess quietly. “I’m sorry.”

I notice Dick’s hand is squeezing my wrist tighter. The pain he’s causing me makes me wince and whimper in pain. His other hand is digging into his pocket and he reveals a small black jewelry box.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Jason, Bruce, and Wally approaching us with concerned looks.

Dick lowers his face closer to whisper in my ear. “You’re going to say yes to me, you fucking selfish bitch. I don’t give a shit about what you want or don’t want. You better say yes, and you better be my wife before I make your life a living nightmare,” he threatens quietly before he chuckles darkly. “Just like your past nightmare with Daddy Dearest.”

My eyes widen in horror when Dick mentions my stepfather; the man who emotionally and physically hurt me with sexual abuse. I lower my eyes to the floor. I know this has to be the final straw. Dick has crossed a line that I don’t even think he could take back or make it right.

I force myself to look back up at Dick but my attention is taken away from him and is now on the sky roof. Across the way on another building stands Deathstroke, who has his gun aimed directly at Dick’s back.

Oh my fucking God. Deathstroke is going to shoot and kill Dick!

Deathstroke knows I said no. He knows I’m not going to accept Dick’s marriage proposal. He knows I’m not going to do what he wants me to do.

I have to do something. I realize I have a choice. I know what I have to do.

And if I die, at least I die knowing I did care and love for Dick Grayson.

Even if he doesn’t love me back.

I follow my instincts that I was trained to act on. Without a second thought, I jump in front of Dick; allowing the faster-than-fuck killing bullet to pierce through my flesh at my right shoulder.

It burns. It’s making me bleed. It hurts like fuck.

I fall back onto Dick. He catches me and we crash to the floor. I can feel him sit up and gasp loudly in panic when he sees I’ve been shot and am bleeding.

“No...no!” Dick cries out. He puts his hands on the seeping wound and puts pressure on it.

Through the stinging pain, I can see everyone around us is frozen and staring in fear at the window where the bullet came from. I follow their stares and notice what they’re looking at.

Deathstroke is on the roof across the way. Everyone sees his gun is aimed right at the building. He shot me.

He waves at me and shoots his grapple gun to come straight at us.

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #batman #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x reader

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americasass81 · 3 years

Text

Make Her Mine - Chapter Six

Warnings:- 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Sex, Thigh-Riding, Swearing, Implied Breeding, Oral (female receiving). Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. Feedback is welcomed.

This contains adult themes and by proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Word Count:- 2,893

Having survived Tony fucking your face as well as the humiliating experience of him washing you afterwards, the shocks just kept on coming when you exited the bathroom to see what he expected you to wear. While he returned from the closet in a t-shirt and sweatpants, you quickly discovered your predicament was much worse than you ever thought. Walking towards the double doors when Tony appeared empty handed, he quickly blocked your way and raised an eyebrow at you before speaking. "Need something darling?"

"Yeah, how about clothes douchebag?"

"You'll get clothes when you need them and when I decide you've earned them. Though I might be persuaded to fetch you something if you'd adjust your attitude." he smirked, as he reached out to run a hand along your cheek. Pulling back and walking to the bed, you dropped onto it and wondered how you had come to be reduced to Tony Stark's pet. Sighing deeply at your dejected form, Tony dropped to his knees in front of you and held you in place when you once again tried to free yourself before looking up at you. "Y/N, surely you must find this constant struggle exhausting. Give in to me and I promise your life will be so much easier. You won't even have any further use for that getaway bag. Kudos on that by the way."

At the mention of your getaway bag, your eyes widened and your hands clenched into fists. "Ah yes, that." Tony smirked, shaking his head at your reaction. "You didn't think I'd just leave it on the New York sidewalk, did you? Don't worry it's safe, though I'm fascinated why you have it. Maybe it's something we can discuss over dinner. Shall we?" he asked, standing back up and reaching out his hand to you. Suddenly realizing that you had spent too much time trying to physically overpower Iron-Man when you should have tried out thinking him, you decided instead to see what information you could wrangle out of him.

"Okay Tony," you said, unclenching your fists and rising from the bed. "I'll agree to dinner and I'll try to adjust my attitude, but may I please have something to wear? It doesn't have to be anything fancy." As if to emphasize your sincerity, you stepped forward and walked into his waiting arms.

Shocked by this sudden change, it seemed Tony did have a weakness for you however and you soon found his arms wrapped around you while his chin came to rest atop your head. Listening to the steady beat of his heart, you failed to notice him checking the data from your nanoparticles and whatever he read seemed to cement this sudden adjustment he'd hoped to see. Releasing you, he quickly disappeared into the closet only to return with a grey t-shirt and blue panties. "Will these do darling?"

"Thank you Tony. They'll do fine." you said, taking them from him while reminding yourself to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Putting on the clothes before he could catch you out or change his mind, you then looked up at him before placing your hand in his and flashing him your best smile. "So maybe while we eat you can tell me a bit about this place, I didn't really take much of it in when I was trying to escape." Wrapping his arm around you, Tony led you out to the kitchen where he planned on introducing you to his culinary skills.

*************

Upon entering the kitchen area and seating you at the island unit, Tony told V.I.R.G.I.L. to release level one lockdown protocols which you discovered opened all the cabinet doors and drawers. Working away on the food as he talked and you listened, you discovered that the house was not only situated at a secluded location but the windows in the ceiling were a result of most of the property being underground. Tony also disclosed that the only two doors off the kitchen led to the garage and his lab. The garage you also learned was the only exit out of the house.

"Mr. . . . sorry Tony, does that not seem like a rather monumental fire hazard?" you inquired, genuinely curious now.

Looking over at you while handing you a glass of wine, he couldn't help the smirk that seemed to light up his face. "Y/N really, think about who you're talking to? If a fire did break out here, the state of the art fire suppression system I designed will kick in and have it out in seconds. Besides, I am Iron-Man. Don't worry darling, you're perfectly safe here."

Choking on his last words, the wine you were drinking hit you wrong and it took him tapping your back to get your breathing back under control. "Thank you, don't quite know what happened there."

"You're welcome. I hope you're okay with chicken and mushroom pasta by the way?" he said, smiling over at you as if he had forgotten that it was in an Italian restaurant you had first refused his company. Now that you had time to really concentrate on the wine, you realized with sickening clarity that it was the same one you drank that night. Placing the glass back on the counter, a shudder ripped through you as you realized there seemed to be nothing he didn't know about you.

Picking up the glass and leading you to the table, he helped you sit before returning with the food and the bottle of wine. Filling your glass while taking a seat on your right side, he placed his hand on yours before speaking. "I'd enjoy the wine if I were you darling. It's the last you'll be drinking going forward. Now let's eat before the food gets cold.”

Thinking through the implications of his statement, you did your best to enjoy the meal while you tried to figure out how to get safely out of his clutches before he could knock you up, provided he hadn't done so already. Deciding to play to his vanity, you complimented him on the meal before asking some of the questions you hoped to get an answer to. "So Tony, you mentioned my getaway bag earlier, may I ask where it is?"

"It's in my safe, not that you'll be needing it. Why does someone your age even have it anyway?"

"Being prepared for anything usually means I'm not surprised by something. Though I guess you're the exception." you laughed, and Tony surprised you yet again when he took your hand and kissed it tenderly. What shocked you most however was the slight tingle that ran through your body at this most romantic gesture. When he released your hand again it seemed it was Tony's turn to ask you a question.

"So would you mind telling me what your plan was? I'm fascinated to know."

"It's not all that exciting to be honest. I had planned to stay at the Waldorf for a week in the hopes your infatuation would dissipate. If it didn't, then my getaway bag, bank account and friends would hopefully get me far enough away from you. Guess that didn't work out too well." you answered while eating more of your meal.

"Like I said, you're wasted where you are and by the way this is not infatuation. I find you amazingly self-reliant for someone your age and I'd like to build a life with you. As I told Happy, you're ingenious." He smiled as if you should be flattered by the compliment, but all you saw was everything he had put you through. Having finished your food, you drank the rest of your wine while you contemplated how best to continue the conversation.

"Tony let's assume for a moment that I'm okay with us, in plain english, what's your endgame? Will I see the outside world again? Will I ever see my friends again?" you asked, noting the irritated look on his face.

Sighing deeply, he took the wine from your hand and gazed into your eyes before speaking. "My endgame as you put it darling, is to get you back to my place where you will be treated like a queen while our little ones grow up safe and loved. If you'll agree, I'd also like to marry you and who knows, hopefully your friends can remain a part of your life."

Hating every word he uttered, but needing to know all the same, your hands left the table and inadvertently rested over your stomach as you stared off into space, thinking. It was only when Tony cleaned up dinner and helped you stand to walk you to the living room, that you regained your focus. "What about my job, my life? Tony, what about the nanoparticles in my system?" you asked quickly, as he sat both of you on the couch and tucked you into his body as if you fit there all along.

"The nanoparticles stay, I'm afraid. Like I said, they have good features and bad. Hopefully with time and trust the unsavory features can be disabled. As for your job and life . . . I won't interfere with your job if you wish to remain where you are. Your life however . . . I would hope you'd be willing to make room in it for our new family." Trying not to tick him off, it was your turn to reign in your temper however once Tony uttered his next words. "Hey perhaps you could tell me about some of the hobbies my money has allowed you to pursue."

"What, you mean there are things the nanoparticles and your Annoying Inquisitor failed to find out about me?"

"Y/N, you know some of the things I've done to get you, as well as what I'm willing to do to keep you. So please make life easier on yourself, park the attitude and tell me some of the things I don't know."

Thinking through what he told you, you sadly realized that at the present time Tony did indeed have the upper hand in all aspects of your survival. Swallowing any retort that would more than likely result in some form of retaliation, you gently freed yourself from his grasp and pulled your feet up onto the couch before answering. "Shooting, Kayaking, Tennis, Hiking, Rock climbing, Restoring Classic Cars and Riding." you quickly rattled off. Seeing the grin that appeared on his face and relating it to the last activity you named, you cringed as you reached forward and slapped him on the upper arm. “Ugh, it's Horseback riding you ass. God is everything with you sexual in nature."

You got your answer however, when he grabbed hold of your arm, pulled you towards him and pressed his lips securely against yours. Finally letting you up for air, he positioned you on his lap with your back resting against his chest and his arms around your waist. "Only where you're concerned darling and by the way I'd never have taken you for someone who was into classic cars."

"I'll have you know your money, as you like to remind me, has enabled me to purchase and restore quite a few classics." you replied, while trying to maneuver away from his roaming hands and lips.

"So how come you didn't just drive off in one of them when you left me three days ago? Would have given you quite the head start."

Feeling your frustration growing you couldn't keep the venom out of your reply. "Ugh I already told you, this infatuation of yours was supposed to blow over which meant I wouldn't have to leave my life, my friends or my car collection behind." With that you struggled once more against his hold but unfortunately it held fast.

Moving you slightly so you now sat solely on his left thigh, Tony pressed down on your hips while simultaneously sliding you back and forth. The friction this created against your clit didn't take long for the now usual sensation to begin building in your core. Added to this the kisses he placed on your neck and down to your shoulders, along with the degrading things he whispered in your ear and the next thing you knew you were reaching for the edge as every muscle in your lower regions pulled tighter and tighter.

"Oh fuck, Tony, stop please. I'm gonna . . . ahh." Now nibbling on your pulse point, all words left you as your release hit you and you felt the moisture leak from you and stain both your panties and Tony's sweatpants.

"Well look at what my dirty girl did. Now it's my turn." And before you could protest or do anything to stop him, Tony threw you down on the couch, ripped your panties clean off and buried his head between your spread legs. Lapping and sucking your now slick folds while shoving two fingers inside you, you couldn't stop the sinful moans that left your lips or the way your hands found themselves entangled in his hair. Smirking against your folds as you gave yourself over to the pleasure building again from his skillful ministrations, it didn't take him long to get you hovering over the edge once more.

And hover you did . . . just as you were about to come for a second time, Tony pulled back and smiled a most devious smile when you looked up at him and whined. "Tony please make me come. Please, please, please." you begged, tears all but falling from your eyes.

Leaning forward to kiss the lips you had previously been chewing on, Tony quickly removed his pants and lining himself up with your entrance, bottomed out as his mouth swallowed the gasp that escaped your lips. "Oh darling, you're absolutely perfect as always. Just imagine how beautiful you will look spread out before me all round with our child."

If you had any retort planned, it was completely lost when Tony shifted your legs and hit that glorious spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Thrusting harder and faster, his hand moved to circle your clit and you felt yourself reaching for the edge once again. This time however you felt the familiar power building inside you and the possible outcome that awaited you. "Tony please . . . slow down . . . ahh, it's too much. I'm gonna . . . Oh god."

"It's okay Y/N, trust me. You're safe darling, just let go. I'll be here with you the whole time." With that, he continued his relentless pounding of your pussy and all rational thought left you as you finally listened to both him and your body and allowed all your cares to melt away. Crying out as Tony pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in while pinching your clit, you once again weren't conscious when your walls clamped his shaft like a vice as rope after rope of warm cum shot out and painted your walls.

*************

True to his word, you woke shortly after nestled on the couch with Tony gently stroking your hair. "Hey gorgeous girl, how are you feeling?"

"Okay I guess, even though I've now passed out twice in the past few hours. Perhaps you should consider taking me to a doctor." you suggested, even though you knew nothing would come of it.

"Darling I don't mean to brag, but you and I both know passing out from a powerful orgasm is not something that requires a doctor. Now would you rather a bath or a shower before bed baby?"

"I think a bath might be nice. Wait, am I to assume there's a bath here big enough to enable you to join me?"

"Of course silly girl." he grinned at you as he jumped off the couch and held out his hand to help you up. "I'm surprised and offended you even have to ask."

Taking his hand, you had to grab onto his shoulder instead to steady yourself as you still felt a bit shaky on your feet. Sensing this, Tony quickly and easily picked you up and next thing you know he placed you in the bathroom attached to what was originally your bedroom. "Please tell me you'll behave yourself if I get in there with you." you questioned as Tony filled the bath while you made use of the toilet, not caring that he was right there with you.

"Of course I will darling, scout's honor." he smiled, holding up his hand in a salute.

"Seriously, do you honestly expect me to believe you were ever a boy scout?" you scoff as he lowered himself into the bath before reaching out to help you in.

"No, I don't really expect you to believe anything I tell you. But that doesn't mean I won't spend the rest of our lives together trying to convince you." With that he nudged you forward until your feet hit the other end of the bath and then leaned you back to rest against his chest before wrapping his arms around you. Sinking into both his embrace and the warm water, you slowly relaxed for what felt like the first time since this whole ordeal had started. Eventually washing each other and retiring to bed, you closed your eyes and let your cares slip away as sleep easily claimed you.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie @hoseokchild @gotnofucks @ironlady1993 @floatingdaisy7 @taintedgenre @buttercandy16 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay , sorry if I missed anyone.

#dark!tony stark x reader

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chipper-smol · 4 years

Text

Vanilla 1 Chain

Prompt: The Aftermath of Ghost banishing the Grimm Troupe from the Troupe’s perspective.

lAST ONE!

( https://twitter.com/BerryCannibal )

Grimm let out a hum as he danced with himself, going through yet another imaginary routine as he allowed his thoughts to drift. The tent was unusually quiet without Brumm around - he was still surprised that his worried conduit had offered to take up a torch and pass out some of the scarlet flame this time around, perhaps he was finally warming up to the ritual? - allowing the perfect space for him to practice his final audience with The Pale King’s vessel.

He chuckled to himself at the memory of that wyrm... Always so frazzled, with his thoughts scattered all about, never in one place. He never did get to teach that fool how to relax before he up and disappeared, leaving this kingdom to be ravaged by Her incurable sickness. What a shame...

He was just coming out of a twirl when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. His knees buckled. He fell. Where were the Grimmkin when he needed them?

Letting out a faint growl, he tried to get back onto his feet as he clutched his- His... He looked down to where his hand was supposed to be touching the smooth, red carapace of his chest, horrified at the sight that greeted him. An open wound, leaking with bright, scarlet flame where the heart of any normal bug was supposed to be located. It was only after that first moment of shock that the pain set in.

Collapsing to the ground once more, Grimm let out a roar of misery and shock and anguish and pure, unfiltered agony. It felt as if the fires that once kept him fed and warm as a child was now burning him up from the inside, taking every part of his body with them. Under his claws he felt his body coming apart, leaving less and less shell to grip on to as he was consumed by what once kept him alive. What was happening? This was not how the ritual went. This was not supposed to happen-

~ Curtains closed. Lights out. Our lead actor has disappeared. ~

Grimm jerked up into a sitting position, breath laboured and raspy as he clutched his chest. It was solid now. Ok. He wasn’t dead, at least. The legacy didn’t end with him as he had feared when... Wait.

He glanced around the room, feeling his metaphorical heart sink when he saw the stitched-together crimson and plum and wine-coloured fabrics that covered the floor, the ever-gently pulsing veins, the scarlet, firelit lanterns... He wasn’t in the physical realm anymore, he quickly realized.

Rolling over, he grabbed a small hand mirror from beside the bed, frantically checking his physical appearance. The ritual hadn’t failed, had it? No. It was still going if the coal colouring of his crescent-shaped horns was anything to go by. Then that must’ve meant...

Oh. Oh, that traitor.

Grimm could feel a growl bubbling up from his chest as he considered what might’ve happened. He must’ve tried to stop the ritual early, perhaps even tried to kill the troupe as a whole by banishing them back to the dream realm. He must’ve manipulated Grimms poor co-actor in this important play into following him, they seemed so glad to help out with the ritual, after all...

Wait. The ritual. The child. Where was the child? Why hadn’t it called out to him yet? Where was the child?

Frantically, and yet gently, he began searching through the satin sheets of the bed he had woken up in. If the child wasn’t dead, it had to be there somewhere, right? Right? Ri- Ah. There it was...

He carefully picked up the limp grimmchild, studying it for a moment. It worried him how he could only barely see it’s chest move, and it wasn’t chirping or making any other kind of noise at him like it usually would, even in its sleep. Not that one could truly sleep in the dream realm.

“My child...” He rasped, quietly, holding it close to his chest, still feeling the gentle pulse of fire inside it. It was still alive, that much was true, but it would not remain that way for long at this stage of the ritual. It would need more flame, and quickly, but finding it could be difficult without his grimmkin to scour the vast wastelands between kingdoms for something worthy of the presence of the troupe in its entirety. Sighing, he cradled his child close as he sat for a long moment in hopelessness, considering his options.

“Marintide...” A voice murmured in his mind, the rasp undoubtedly belonging to The Nightmare King himself.

Right. Of course. They had received another call while performing their ritual in Hallownest. The other kingdom was far geographically, but travelling large distances had never been

much of a problem for the troupe. But then again, the troupe hadn’t been in this situation for several centuries. Last time they were banished was way back in-

A soft cough and whine of complaint sounded from the starving child. Right. Best not to dwell on that with a starving grimmchild in his arms.

Slowly, Grimm laid back down on the satin bed, still holding the child close to his chest as he focused on the brief glimpses he had been given of the kingdom when they had received their call. He admittedly struggled a little with remembering the less interesting details, such as the dying corals and thick bramble forests, but he managed none the less.

Waking up on cold, hard stone was not a welcome experience, but it was the best way to tell that they had arrived. Huffing as he got up, Grimm took a moment to look around. Without the Grimmkin to go before him and set up a comfortably warm tent, he was immediately exposed to the cold breeze coming in from the ocean and the sight of the beautifully ruined architecture that once was this great kingdom.

The stone beneath his feet was a brilliant cobalt blue, and he could see the sunlight reflecting off something gold in the distance. Sunlight? Ah. An aboveground kingdom, then. Something that looked like a lighthouse of sorts was off in the distance as well, just barely visible if he squinted through the gleam of gold from fallen pillars and monuments. The sun was glinting off the sea as well, the water so reflective that he almost missed the large, pale form that smoothly broke the surface and went back under in the same movement. A seawyrm, perhaps. He had been told of these before, though he couldn’t recall much...

Shaking his head to clear his mind of thought and clutching the grimmchild closer still, he made his way through the ruins towards the woods he had seen. Extracting flame from living creatures was a painful process for both him and the second party, but in this case, it would have to be done. The Grimm lineage would not end with him.

Stepping into the woods, there was immediate rustling to his left. He barely had time to think before a large, hunter-esque creature had him pinned to the ground, teeth bared, ready to end him.

He remained calm, though, reaching up and firmly placing his open palm over its eyes as he focused, sending into a deep, nightmare-ridden sleep... Sighing, Grimm nudged the large creature off of him, finally untucking the grimmchild from his cape. His expression quickly dropped when he saw the state they were in, flopping over limply in his hands instead of flying up and readily feasting on the nightmares of the sleeping hunter.

This was bad. This was really bad.

Quickly, he crouched down by the sleeping hunter, carefully placing his child upon their head. “Sorry about this...” He murmured, though he knew his apology would never be heard, though he knew there was no forgiveness to be had for what he was about to do.

Then, he started chanting.

The words that spilt from his lips made the fire inside him roar back to life. It was painful, but he had to endure. For his child. For the troupe. He gritted his teeth together to keep himself from screaming, wanting so dearly not to distress his child...

“Ngahhh...”

Grimm glanced up at the noise, finally stopping his chanting, smiling when he saw his child just as lively as ever. But...

He brought his hand up, gently touching his left horn, quickly finding a large patch missing, replaced by openly roaring scarlet fire. He was weakening, he realized, tucking the child close once more. They would need to finish the ritual soon. He’d just need to find Brumm so-

Right. Brumm wasn’t part of the troupe anymore. That traitor.

He didn’t have a conduit now. And he didn’t have a helper either. As sure as he was that he could get the vessel to meet him outside Hallownest, the banishment ritual would not allow him within several miles of the place.

He’d have to wait.

Slowly wasting away into a fire ghost, he’d have to wait.

He’d be willing to make that sacrifice for his child, yes.

He’d keep them alive and safe until a proper ritual could be conducted again, or until he finally grew unable to help it and it’d have to starve.

He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

( donotgogently )

( @wasabi-arts )

Grimm pets the small creature in his arms, looking over Dirtmouth from the cliff. “What a shame for our little friend to abandon you in such a place,” he cooed, starting his descent down king’s pass, “ and a place so dangerous and cold. To think that vessel didn't even bring you back to our Trope.” The child purred in his arms, content with the situation despite the abandonment.

The trek back to the troupe wasn’t long, and Grimm made his way into the tent. “Good evening, Master.” Brumm said, already offering to take the torch from Grimm’s hands, surprised by the sight of the child, as well as Grimm’s damaged horn. “Master, why do you hold the child? And may I ask what happened to your right horn?” Grimm simply smiled at Brumm, dismissing Brumm’s second question while petting the child. “I hate to admit such a circumstance, but I do believe our little visitor has abandoned the child. Brumm was silent for a moment, looking at the child. He didn’t like the idea of Grimm dying for the sake of a ritual, and would much rather let the ritual die. At least for a bit longer, if it must continue.

“Why do you think they abandoned it?” Brumm asked, curious. “The traveler seems attached to it.” With a thoughtful nod from Grimm, he pet the child once more to hear it purr. “Maybe it has something to do with the roar heard earlier?”

“Roar?” Grimm asked, cocking his head with curiosity. “I heard no such thing.”

Brumm was surprised at this comment, stopping his music at the thought. “But Master, the roar was quite loud. It rattled the tents of our troupe and the homes of this here town. The bug near the bench described it as something akin to a cry.”

“I see...”

Grimm looked out of the tent in the direction of the crossroads. The abandoned Vessel of the Pale King himself had likely gone down below, Grimm thought. That was the location of the black egg that the king set up long ago to contain the infection. And since The Knight was a vessel themself, that is likely where they went.

“I don't think we’ll see them for a while, my dear Brumm.” The child snored in his arms. “May I ask why not?” “Well, do believe our small friend has gone to fight the creature inside the

crossroads.” “...”

Brumm looked back at Grimm’s shattered horn. “Master,”he asked,resuming his music,”May I ask what happened to your horn?”

Grimm turned away from the tent’s entrance to face Brumm.

“Ah, I almost forgot.” He stated, touching the broken spot with his hand.”I had gotten into a bit of a scuffle with the creatures up in the cliffs trying to obtain the child.” The spot hurt, yes, however Grimm paid it no mind. It was merely a minor injury, he was far more concerned about the child in his arms.

“Well, Brumm, we should take care of the child in the knight’s absence, hm?”

Brumm nodded in agreement. “I do think we should take care of your injury too, Master.”

( @ouliarts )

( @null-icon )

It is the dead of night and the big top is quiet with the whispers of a phantomly audience. Your Master had told you to keep watch before he had rushed out in a hurry - the fastest you’ve seen him move outside of performance - but it is still the same dark, dreary town at the base of the looming cliffs off to the left. Winds still whipped about and crept underneath the tent fabrics, the scarlet haze of an ethereal presence flickers with the chill, and with a rumbling sigh gathered from the depths of your chest, you reach behind you to pull out your trusty accordions and begin to play a slow melody from something beyond your time as a Troupe member. It’s a delicate number though sharp and stuttered even to your skilled hands, suggesting that the you of another lifetime had not gotten to learn it well, but you are alone with your thoughts and the mumble of an uncaring audience so you practice and improvise in hopes of making it something worth playing for someone beyond deserving.

The tent flaps flutter open long after you’ve sat down with your legs crossed and your instrument falls silent. The winds outside had gotten stronger, but it was hardly an observation relevant when shortly after the flaps are sealed you feel your fur near singing from the blast of furious heat. Where you previously would have no need to look up at the looming figure that storms past, you can’t help but to draw your gaze upon him. His stance is proud and he glides elegantly through the entrance chamber, nodding to you his curt greeting as he adjusts something under his thin cloak. You would have assumed nothing was off if he wasn’t radiating the hellish heat of his rage, and when he exited into the main ring, one of the heads of his curving black horns snapped clean off bleeding an otherworldly vermillion that trickled into his wiry fabrics.

Sometime when the sun should have broken over the peaks, you decide to pay your Master a visit, your curiosity and concern uncharacteristically getting the best of you. You don’t get much more than a few strides into his secluded part of the big top when the maroon walls shudder despite his quiet rasp, “I do not believe I summoned you, Brumm.”

“Mmmrr… So it may be. You are not well.”

“Is that so? What makes you question my state of being? What is it you find in the need to bother my rest?”

“The tent still simmers with your anger. My sight did not deceive me when I spotted your-” You are interrupted when the soft grizzle sounds, the pale pink of small irises blinking through where your Master is concealed. “... If that is all you dare approach me for, be on your way, Brumm. You have disturbed me, and now my child. Let us sleep.”

“Have you bandaged yourself, Master?” The hesitance you are greeted with tells you all you need to know, and you go digging in your fur for the roll of fabric you sew onto the shreds of your patchy sleeves. “Mmmh. Let me cover the wound, then I will leave.”

“I do not remember giving you permission.” “I do not require it for this.” Grimm uncovering himself enough for cat-like eyes to stare into your mask is simply affirmation to your statement. His horn had stopped oozing, now simply glowing dimly, but still you settle beside him to begin carefully swathing his horn in gray linen. “Did you fight, Master?” “Yes.”

“What for?” “My child. You must understand, the child is the future of this troupe. Of us.”

“Hrm. Why was the Grimmchild beyond the big top?”

“I do not know, Brumm, but it does not matter. Our caller approaches us soon, and the ritual will soon begin. That is what’s most important.” After the timbre of his voice falls out, you have nothing left to say and so you shift the rest of your energy into securing the wrap you have now made. “It will grow back, but thank you regardless, Brumm.” And when you turn to leave as promised, Grimm speaks up again.

“Will you play me a song, musician?”

( https://twitter.com/Heck_Yena )

( tfwhynot)

The troupe was always on the move. When the ritual wasn’t in the picture they, for the most part, had to travel the old fashion way. The tents could be instantly packed and unpacked with a snap of Grimm’s fingers, coming in and out of the Nightmare realm with ease. The Grimmkin were a similar story, though they themselves were in control of which realm they were in at any time. It was the more unique bugs that couldn’t though, Brumm, Divine, and the Grimmsteads were anchored to the waking realm.

Grimm led the caravan on a wagon all his own. It held everything he needed to plan, maps, lists of supplies they had or needed, and written plans for performances of future and past. Brumm followed in the wagon behind. It carried all the other things that didn’t originate from the nightmare heart; containing currencies from lands of all sorts. Things to trade away for other things they may need or want, rations of food and water, and nicknacks collected for sentimental purposes. In the very back, the strongest and most loyal steed followed, wheeling Divine’s wagon with them. Jars of the various substances she excreted were stashed, herbs, and remedies, each with their own uses.

Brumm’s music floated around the caravan, the familiar tunes of his accordion helping fight off complete boredom. Grimmkin popped in and out, joking and chatting among themselves. The newest of them excited to be on the road again, the long darkness to come not quite setting in on them yet.

The road they traveled slowly grew rough, the wagon wheels bouncing slightly on the rocks that were sprinkled across the road. Two mountains off in the distance came into view, a thin and winding path was carved through, old and uncared for; it was made a mess by time. It had been made by a kingdom long gone and forgotten.

He waved down a few Kin that was chatting above him, “Explore the hills we are to tread,” He rasped out, “Report any dangers or curiosities you come across.” They nodded and dashed off, nothing but a rapidly disappearing blaze of scarlet fire left behind.

Time passed as Grimm waited, the steed pulling his wagon huffed at them, silently asking to rest soon. The road was still uneven, each wagon still bouncing off the occasional rock, tilting to and fro at the uneven path.

The Grimmkin still hadn’t returned as the wagons began to pull through the mountains. The walls of rock were high on each side, holes were mirrored on each side. A few old corpses could barely be seen, legs and arms of bugs both wild and sentient lay idle, their chests gaping open, innards long eaten by what lived here. He placed a hand on the child’s back where they were curled by his side in worry. They murmured in their sleep, still so small and weak. It’d be a while till the next ritual.

The walls were close together, they only just let the wagons pass without the worry of scraping the sides. There was no way to turn around once the caravan walked past the entrance, let alone run the other way if something happened.

“The path through should be short,” Grimm thought, “We’ll stop for rest and food on the other side,” he waved down more kin, a dozen more than last time, “If something happens we can deal with it,” He instructed them to carry torches and light the path, and most importantly, report back if they saw something, “We’ll always make it through.”

Music seeped through the artificial canon, echoing through the caves along each side. The old familiar tune felt uneasy, the vague feeling of nervousness permeating through the troupe enough to effect Brumm. The steeds began to slow, the sounds of their marching quieting as they pushed through the fatigue encasing their shells.

A puff of red smoke and a small novice was sitting beside Grimm. Their shrill and panicked voice woke the child, their words were spoken quickly, half slurred together, and hard to understand.

A sharp scree cut through all the noise, leaving a deafening quiet in its wake.

The Grimmkin immediately started to panic, “That’s the noise! Tha-”

A kin was slammed against the wall with a loud crack, their shell breaking on impact as a creature dug into them, shredding their garments as they fell, the Grimmkin wailing.

Jumping up Grimm tossed the reins to a nightmare kin. As he got on top of the wagon another scree rang out; the grimkin this time successfully dodging. Brumm’s wagon shook as the creature collided with it, the steed leading it letting out a panicked whimper.

The creature hissed on the ground, mandibles and legs flailing as for a moment before righting itself. It crouched down, ready to strike again when the wheels of Divine’s cart rolled over, only pinning it at first, the steed struggling to pull over the living speedbump. A squeak and a squelch and their rigid shell shattered, Divine letting out a startled yelp as the wheel suddenly dropped back to ground level.

Another screech, Grim immediately aimed to intercept it when yet another rang out.

It was like a domino effect, one after another after another screaming before leaping at the caravan. Grimm dashed, intercepting as many as he could before they hit, the air was just as full of fire as it was the creature as the kin attempted to help kill their attackers.

Still more kept coming, “Take them through as fast as possible,” Grimm barked at the nightmare leading them.

“Master?” Brumm called out, worry lacing his voice as much as panic.

“I’ll meet up with you on the other side, just go!”

They didn’t need to be told twice, the steeds immediately attempting to move as fast as their tired legs could carry them.

Flinging himself into the air Grim puffed up with a loud scream, doing his best to draw all of their attention. Fire flung from around him, lighting the small canyon with fire.

It worked, the beasts focusing on the largest threat. The wagons now having to deal with fewer things under their wheels could actually hurry, fear coursing through the steeds giving them new energy. The sound of Grimm’s fight growing more and more distant till it was nothing but an echo on the other side.

Once out the steeds couldn’t go any further if they tried. Their shells heaved as they drew breath, legs shaking as they unhitched themselves, collapsing on the ground with exhaustion. They huffed at the kin who immediately checked on them, shaking any attempts to get them to stand up, just wanting to be left alone.

With a grunt Brumm hopped out of the cart, afraid of what he might see.

It looked like the fuckers had attempted to burrow through the wagons. Shallow divots in the repurposed shells that made the walls and ceilings were spread across all the wagons.

He made his way to the front, seeing the nightmare doing their best to comfort Grimmchild as they cried.

“Mrmmm. Is the child hurt?”

They shook their head no, rubbing their back as they clung to the kin, “scared and worried for their father, but completely unharmed,” they rumbled.

Brumm nodded as he looked to the other kin. A few quickly busied themselves but most were unsure, not knowing what to do without instruction from the master. No one could properly hunker down for the night without him and there wasn’t really a second in command for situations like this.

“Try and get some to start repairs on the wagons,” Brumm told the nightmare. He shifted in place trying to figure out what to do, he wasn’t a leader, he hated giving directions to others. There was a reason he was the only musician, as the sole bug who composed the music he just could never direct others to play something right.

Walking back to Divine he could hear her talking, her airy voice louder and sharper than usual.

“Aaaah! Where’s the master? He said he’d meet us! I can’t smell him here! Where is he?” The kin outside her wagon shrugged.

“Mrmmm. How are you fairing Divine?” Brumm asked, already knowing the answer.

“Aaaahhhhh! Just terribly! What are we supposed to do? The master said he’d be here!”

“All we can do is wait. Master will come with time.”

Divine hissed in worry, she shifted and wiggled as much as she could, “But couldn’t he just puff back in any second? Why isn’t he here!” Her face was in a deep frown, something no one saw often, it made her smiling mask half look out of place and strange.

“Mrmmm. He may still be trying to buy time, he can’t see how far we are.”

“Aaahhhhh! But what if! What if…” She trailed off, not wanting to say what she thought. If she said it, what if it came true?

“Impossible, it’s never happened before. He’ll return. Master may come back hurt, but he will come back.” Brumm reassured.

Divine still wasn’t sure about that but dropped it, “What are we supposed to do till he comes back?”

“Mrmm,” Brumm had to think for a moment, “I don’t know. I’ll start getting food ready I guess. Keep medical supplies at the ready when he returns.”

“Ahh… But what am I supposed to do? I’ll worry myself into knots if I don’t do something!”

“You can watch the child. The nightmare caring for them now has more important things they can do. Just make sure they’re calm, try to get them to sleep.” Divine nodded at Brumm and he set off to try and put things together.

As time passed though Brumm couldn’t stop worry from clouding his head. He kept a bag of medical supplies on him while he cooked while doing his best to focus on the task at hand, making a basic soup from what they had. Though the spot they were at wasn't the best, the kin were able to find a river, grabbing buckets to add to the cauldron and give to the steeds. There wasn’t any promise of something that tasted amazing but everyone would appreciate having something in their stomachs for now.

There was little conversation as food was passed around. Not even the novices, often cheerful and mischievous, found it in them to crack jokes. Brumm at least took the chance to fully get what damages were. The wheels would need to be replaced, many cracks and deformations from the blasted things would make it risky to set off too soon, they’d need some material to make some final repairs but the wagons were still okay enough that there wasn’t worry of them falling apart or rain seeping through, the steeds were tired and a bit scratched up but would be okay with rest, and while a few Grimmkin had been lost the majority were okay, shaken up, but okay.

The tents appeared in a flash, faster and more sudden than Brumm had seen in a long time. It was almost dizzying, everyone having to be moved and placed within different rooms.

“Master!” Brumm realized. He had to find him, figure out what happened, make sure he was okay.

Where was he even? A quick turn around and he was in the main stage with a few other confused kin, a few mourning over dropping their meal in their daze.

Master’s room, Grimm had to be there. He was quick to shuffle as best as he could in the darkened stage.

“Master?” Brumm called.

“Come in Brumm.”

Brumm tentatively moved the curtain, peering in. His mast was sprawled out on a fainting couch.

“Master! Your horn-”

“I know Brumm, it looks worse than it feels.”

Brumm couldn’t believe that. One of Grimm’s horns had been torn off, the thick shell left was jagged and cracked around it. The soft flesh within weeping blood now that it was exposed.

Grimm had been injured before but this… This had never happened. Maybe a crack or scratch, but even during the ritual Brumm had never seen a piece of Grimm torn off.

“You-You need to get that cleaned immediately!” Brumm moved closer, trying his best to see if there was anything else.

Grimm chuckled, “I haven’t heard you order someone around in a long time.”

That made Brumm freeze, “I… Mrmm. I’m sorry master that wasn’t my intent.”

Finally, Grimm turned to face him, “There is no need to apologize, my friend, I was only teasing.”

Grimm had a tired smile, blood slowly winding its way down the side of his face. There were a few other scratches and cuts, small tears in his cloak, but nothing nearly as bad as his horn.

“I’m just glad everyone is okay,” He turned back looking down to what Brumm could now see was the Grimmchild. They rested their head on their father's arm, purring softly as Grimm’s other hand lightly scratched their head.

“Please master, let me dress your wounds. Even if it’s not as bad as you say it still needs to be taken care of soon rather than later.”

Grimm looked back at Brumm, seeing him fidget with worry, “Very well.”

He shifted into a better position, sitting upright with his cloak completely out of the way, much to the complaint of Grimmchild. Grimm shushed them as Brumm moved in front of him. Even sitting on a couch this low to the ground Grim was still at eye level with Brumm.

Brumm had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves as he pulled out supplies to clean his master, “Mrmm. This is probably going to sting,” he warned.

He poured a cleaning acid on a clean towel, it wasn’t strong enough to do much more than sting, but it still cleaned. He carefully dabbed at the wound, waiting to see if there was any reaction. Grimm’s eye twitched slightly but he kept calm as Brumm thoroughly cleaned his head.

Placing the used rag aside, pulling a large pair of tweezers out. Grimm bowed his head slightly, allowing Brumm easier access. Carefully Brumm pulled bits of shell that had embedded themself in the wound. Grimm huffing as a large piece, roughly the size of a piece of geo, was taken out.

After cleaning it again Brumm placed a layer of protective shell over it, a large circular disk of shell cleaned and cut to help cover a wound till it healed so nothing got in. It was a bit big but it did the job. With some adhesive strips, it was secured.

Brumm stepped back, “It’s done, master. Mrmm.”

That same tired smile from before appeared again, “Thank you for caring for me, my friend. Tell me, was the rest of the troupe okay?”

“Yes, a few kin were lost but given some time to rest everyone will be okay. The wagons will likely need to be replaced soon though.”

Grimm nodded, “Rest, that certainly sounds nice. Would the troupe be okay if I rested for now?”

“Mrm. I believe so, though it would be a good idea to talk to everyone and address what happened.”

“Of course, of course,” Grim, let out a slow sigh, looking down as the child got comfortable again. “Could you leave me to rest then?”

Brumm nodded silently and left. As he lifted the curtain he turned again, taking one final look at his master. He was too tired to hang as he usually slept, instead opting to curl around the child on the fainting couch.

“Rest well master.”

( @kiwikoala )

( @vibeseeker )

Crimson flames slowly licked up the draping curtains, draining away all color except the ocean of red that surrounded the young king and the visage of the ever beating Nightmare Heart. The ever present silence within the realm was only pierced by the steady thump of the constantly beating object, joined soon by the child's own pulse.

That is until a sharp crack echoed through the red hued abyss, quickly following the noise the growing troupe master had been blinded by a bright light. He quickly beat his wings in an adrenaline fueled struggle to wipe away the blazing heat that seared into his retinas, only to be met by a new presence that felt somewhat familiar. However the very energy called out to him, drawing him to cautiously approach.

"So I see the mewling cub shows its strength, choosing to find me within my own realm," The figure slightly turned and with a snap set their hand alight with a crimson flame, unveiling the form of the Nightmare King "It's almost cute, though that won't prove you as a worthy enough vessel alone."

"I... I just... I wasn't trying too..." Grimmchild nervously spoke as he pushed off the larger beings baited words, fanning out his wings and drifting to the floor below "my... my father, he... where is he? I... I was just with him..." panic started to grip at the small things words, as his eyes darted around and finally took in the lack of a landscape around the pair "...where am I? Who are you? What did you do?"

"Hah, poor thing, did your father never tell you of your purpose?" The Nightmare spoke with a chuckle and slowly bent down to be a little closer to the child's level, the pinkish red of his eyes burning deep within "a shame then, a kin not properly warned will make the process far more difficult than it should be..."

"...kin? My... my purpose? Wh..what do you mean?" Grimmchild asked with a slight hitch to his voice, pulling his wings back as worry tugged at the edges of his mind "I... I really want to go home... where is home?" He asked again, not expecting a real answer but hoping that the strange 'kin' would take pity upon him.

The larger figure let off a deep sigh as it drew back up to its full height, looking away with an almost bored expression adorning their face.

"Fine, perhaps you were simply dragged here out of pure luck then, as I doubt a weakling could get here of skill alone..." The Nightmare King then lifted one of his hands before giving a simple snap that caused the child to burst into crimson flames, almost immediately cooking them inside and out as their skin was charred and reduced to ash.

Grimmchild awoke with a start, jolting up upon the soft sheets of a fine bed deep within the maze of tents that was the troupe. His breathing was laboured and irregular, and a tear was starting to build up on the edge of his eyes, that is until a black wing gently pulled him back into a kind embrace.

"Is everything alright little one?" Grimm spoke out with a softer tone, moving himself a little closer in order to better comfort his son.

"A... a nightmare... it... it felt s..so..." the child stuttered for a while, struggling to form words until Grimm tightened the hug a little further and carefully wrapped his wing around them. Laying the both of them back into the bed.

"Its okay little one, nightmares are just that, nightmares. Just try and get back to sleep, alright?"

"A..alright..."

( @doodle-chris )

#and that's all of them!#hollowknight #hollow knight #otherart #otherfic #fanart #giftcorner #telephoneknight #long post #also bolded names are people who im still trying to get accounts to link to #stand by for thems

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hajimewhore · 4 years

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Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 3.2k words ➷Humor, slight angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, shenanigans ofc, i missed oikawa ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, ✈Part 7

Hajime nearly chokes, wiping the ‘potion’ dribbling down his jawline, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the disgusting concoction from exiting his gut.

“...How was it?”

You try to pat his back sympathetically (he’s gagging now), but you’re the one that insisted he try the mystery remedy first, and you cautiously pull your hand away as he shoots you the most menacing glare he can while he’s coughing into his palm.

“It was made with weird mushrooms and fucking plants, how do you think it tastes?”

Terrible, you guess. And the effects were supposed to be instantaneous, according to a recipe dropped in one of the posts you found… not that you expected it to work.

“Ahh, and nothing happened.”

You rub your jaw semi-thoughtfully, before catching the look on Hajime’s face.

“Uh, Hajime?”

His expression is glaring, not unlike someone scheming for revenge. But that’s silly, Hajime wouldn’t blame you for the potion not working, right?

“It probably didn’t work because you didn’t try it with me.”

It seems he would, realization sets in as Hajime closes in on you, and you panic,

“I think it didn’t work because it was someone bullshitting!”

“Don’t you want to swap back? Just drink it!”

“You’re just mad, get away from me!”

You trip on your feet, stumbling into the kitchen table. It scrapes the tile as your hands clutch for purchase on anything that’ll help you get you away from the madman behind you, but the tablecloth you’ve grasped at isn’t much help seeing as you swipe it off the table entirely. You’d be impressed that all the plates and the flower-filled vase stayed perfectly set on the table from your impromptu magic trick, if it weren’t for Hajime assaulting you.

You cry out as if you’re being brutally attacked (you are, technically–just with plant juice), and Hajime takes you by the jaw and tilts a cup of the swirling cocktail to your lips, sloshing rather unappetizingly in the glass. If the thing had an aura, it’d have a thick gray cloud fuming from it.

“And why would I be mad?”

“Because I made you drink a potion I found on a weird thread even though it was totally suspicious and completely untrustworthy!”

You confess to your sins, the thread was actually some sort of troll that promised the reader would swap bodies with their favorite celebrity, and you cast it aside for the likelihood of that never happening, it was probably a scam to get some gullible teens to drink essentially dirt.

And you admit that initially you thought it would be funny to prank Hajime, jotting down the recipe and conveniently leaving out the celebrity bit, but in your excitement to scheme you forgot Hajime doesn’t take too well to pranks at his expense.

Not without retribution at least, and you find yourself grappling at his wrists, attempting to turn your head away from the glass.

He eyes you with a too eager grin,

“You should try it, really, it might work.”

It didn’t.

It was disgusting.

You have learned your lesson not to trifle with Hajime, and you're no closer to finding a solution to your problem.

You slump onto the kitchen table, feeling especially abused and violated by the plant paste you regretfully crafted.

“That’s number one on the list, what’s next?”

Hajime rests his elbow on the table, chin in palm as he scrolls on his phone.

“Bonk our heads together so hard we pass out and hopefully wake up in our own bodies?”

You suggest. Who knows, it could actually work.

“No thanks, I’d rather not wake up the same way but with a concussion.”

The second Hajime turns down your cartoonish suggestion, his phone lights up and buzzes, signifying a call.

You glance at his phone, “Tooru’s calling you?”

“Fuck. I’ll just ignore it,”

The moment he sets his phone aside, the kitchen door bursts open, presenting none other than Oikawa Tooru, entirely expected given the situation and the fact that Hajime’s parents are still at work.

“Tooru?!”

You blink in surprise, and Tooru frowns at the sight of the two of you together.

“I knew you were ignoring me!”

“What the fuck Shittykawa, who said you could come over?”

Hajime grimaces, forgetting to stay true to your personality in his surprise. Tooru’s brow ticks at the catty response to his entrance.

“I see you’ve been spending too much time with Iwa-chan, using his terrible nicknames! I didn’t think you’d ever use it on me either, but here we are!”

He folds his arms across his chest, and Hajime covers his mouth.

Shit, he let that one slip in his initial shock.

“Besides, this is Iwa-chan’s house, and I say I can come over! You two have been ignoring me all week and coming up with the shittiest excuses—”

“Oikawa—”

“No, let me finish!”

He huffs, looking more serious than you’ve seen him outside the court. Judging by his posture and the worry in his brows, you can tell he’s been stressing himself lately. You bite your cheek, knowing full well you and Hajime were the root of the cause.

“Both of you have to go to the dentist when the office is closed, really? Iwa-chan studying for a test that’s not for another week, please! Give me a break. Not to mention, every practice you play like shit Iwa-chan,”

It’s not shit, you’re just not Hajime’s usual, because you’re not fucking Hajime. You want to argue, defend yourself and Hajime, but you keep your lips sealed.

“You act like a total weirdo, you hardly talk to your own teammates and friends, and you–”

He turns to Hajime, technically you, scowl ever present.

“You always run off with him after school! And don’t even pretend like you’re not having lunch with him too, Kunimi-chan saw you eating alone together by the art building–ditching me, yeah?”

He’s fuming, and his hair is moving in every direction accompanying his wild, frantic gestures.

The guilt starts piling, and you’re starting to regret yours and Hajime’s way of handling the situation.

To avoid uncomfortable situations and messing up, you thought the best method was to steer clear from everyone entirely.

Clearly that’s backfiring, but it’s too late to erase those actions now.

“Not only have you two spent all week lying to me, you’ve been completely ignoring my calls and texts all weekend too!”

Tooru pauses, rant seemingly over, but neither you or Hajime feel inclined to speak yet, too caught off guard by the outburst, and unsure of what you can say to remedy the situation.

Tooru drops his arms at his sides, glancing away from the two of you, biting his lip. Your shoulders tense when you feel the atmosphere around him drop significantly.

“Are you guys mad at me?”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

You forgot he had feelings.

“Oikawa, it’s not that, I swear.”

You speak first, and Tooru looks to you with an expression that almost breaks your heart right there. Brown eyes glossy, lips in a thin line as if he’s trying to keep them from turning down into a frown, he looks genuinely displeased.

“Are you just sick of me? Are you tired of hanging out with me? I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but if it makes you guys that upset I can stop, I’ll be better.”

In any other context you may quip with a ‘you could stop this whole time?’, but the joke wouldn’t sit right, and Tooru looks entirely too on edge, fingers tapping at his sides restlessly.

Tooru’s always been the type to stay true to himself, unabashedly and unapologetically. He knows he’s flawed, has learned to accept his shortcomings as a person. But here he is before you and Hajime, willing to cast aside his pride for the sake of your friendship. It only serves to guilt you more, considering it’s based upon the lies you’ve built up.

“I promise we’re not sick of you, we just… had something come up that we had to deal with. It’s been really stressful, I’m sorry.”

You don’t particularly care if it’s too out of character, it’s what Tooru needs to hear.

Risking a glance at Hajime, you see he’s shaking his leg and biting his lip, a few of his nervous tics, he’s contemplating something heavily.

“And you can’t tell me? You always tell me when something is wrong.”

Tooru eyes you suspiciously, and it’s true, usually you can tell Tooru anything. But this isn’t something believable, and you and Hajime both decided it’s best kept a secret.

“We can’t, but it’s nothing you did. Don’t worry about it, we’ll start hanging out soon, like we used to, we just have to deal with this ourselves.”

And you hope you’ll be able to, it’d be nice to go back to normal. You did miss movie nights with Tooru and Hajime, and you miss having lunch together on the rooftop.

Tooru thinks for a moment, you see the gears turning in his head, eyes focused. He glances to Hajime, who hasn’t said a word the entire time, still tense on the other side of the table.

Tooru’s contemplative gaze flicks to you, as if he’s had some sort of revelation.

“Did you get her pregnant?”

WHA—THAT’S HIS REVELATION?

“You asshole, shut up!”

Hajime’s choice first words.

“What?! No, no, fuck no!”

You blush heavily at his wild accusation, and Tooru looks visibly relieved.

“Oh, thank god. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing, necessarily, and I always kind of expected it, but this is just too soon.”

He laughs airily, as if he doesn’t feel the weight of his words like you do, heavy on your heart. Does everyone have that assumption? That you and Hajime would one day be together like that?

“We’re not even dating, idiot.”

Ouch. Hajime’s adamant refusal jabs at you, and you try to ignore the ache that claws at your chest. That may have stung a bit, but you certainly won’t admit it out loud.

“Yeah, yeah. I just couldn’t think of any other reason you’d be ignoring me like that.”

“It’s ‘cause we swapped bodies.”

You whip your head to Hajime, physically ripped from your disappointment, too shocked he’d blab the truth to Tooru and expect a reasonable outcome from it.

“Hah. Hah.”

Tooru doesn’t even entertain the explanation, arms crossed and eyes disinterested, accompanying the dry laugh well.

“It’s true.”

You hope Hajime knows what he’s doing.

“Funny, and I didn’t think you’d be in on it Iwa-chan, looking so surprised like that.”

Tooru doesn’t even look skeptical, or remotely fazed, as if he doesn’t want to be tricked into falling for something so blatantly stupid.

And normally, he’d be right to, but in this case, you and Hajime were unfortunately not kidding.

“I just didn’t think Hajime would openly admit that without talking to me first.”

You shoot a glance at Hajime, as if to convey ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’, but he merely shrugs in response.

“And you’re a real prankster today too. What’s gotten into you guys? Seriously, are you mad at me?”

Tooru is starting to look a little peeved, visibly doubting your words of encouragement from earlier.

“We’re not mad. We switched places. We woke up last Sunday in each other’s bodies. That’s why we haven’t been ourselves, and that’s why we’ve been avoiding everyone.”

Hajime continues with his explanation, as if Tooru would be any closer to believing it.

Which he isn’t.

“That’s not even possible, but fine, I’ll play along. You’re Iwa-chan, supposedly. What’s something that only he would know?”

Tooru crosses his arms smugly, staring at your body, who is ‘supposedly’ Hajime, as if he’s got you two in checkmate.

This can’t be good for Tooru, but it’s definitely going to be good for you if you’re getting in on a secret.

“Alright. You swore me to secrecy for this one,” Hajime doesn’t hesitate for one second, “that time at the volleyball banquet last year you saw a girl with a ‘nice ass’ in a ‘super mega tight dress’ and wanted to hit on her, but when you tapped her shoulder, she turned around and it was actually Y/N–”

Now this is very interesting news to you.

“H-HEY, STOP TALKING–”

Hajime side steps Tooru’s attempt to cover his mouth,

“And you pre-gamed before the event so you drunkenly admitted to me that you’d still tap that but she’s practically your sister and that’s gross but her ass looked so–”

“I get it okay! How do I know you’re not just fucking with me and broke the secret pact we made?!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off and glares at you, but you’re giving him the widest, shit-eating grin.

“I knew that dress looked good.”

“Enough games already!”

“What about the time in elementary school where you and I went to a volleyball match and you had to–”

“ENOUGH, enough, I believe you, okay!”

Tooru relents, red-faced and practically sweating from his nervous panic.

“I wanna know about the time in elementary school where you and Hajime went to a volleyball match and something happened.”

You put your hand up, wanting to know the juicy details. You thought you and Tooru told each other everything, but apparently there’s some missing gaps in that ‘everything’, and you’re very eager to learn.

“We made a friendship promise and he swore me not to tell anyone but because of the circumstances, he had to—”

“I said I believed you already, stop trying to out me!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off at the best part, every time.

He taps his foot with a huff, bottom lip twitching into a frown. Hajime gives him a smug look, staring back combatively, as if Tooru will attempt to call out bullshit again (he won’t).

You’ll have to remember to ask Hajime about the middle school incident at a later date, but right now,

“I’m sorry we kept this from you, and sorry I kept ignoring your calls, Tooru. We didn’t know what to do.”

You interrupt their staring contest, wrapping your arms around Tooru in a tight hug. You’re the tallest you’ve ever been, and it’s weird to hug him when you aren’t yourself, but you missed your best friend.

“Uh…”

Tooru awkwardly pats your back,

“I was kind of lying before because I thought you guys were trying to shame and humiliate me, but this is really weird and I actually might believe you now.”

“Asshole, that’s all it took?! And stop hugging him like that, it's freaking me out!”

Hajime slaps Tooru on the back, yanking you by the back of your shirt to pull you from the hug.

He grumbles something indecipherable under his breath, contemplating whether he should even say anything,

“I’m sorry too. I guess.”

He gives Tooru an awkward, much gentler slap on the back, before slinging his arm around Tooru in some sort of half-hug gesture.

“I-Iwa-chan! It really is you in there!”

Oikawa’s fake tears spring to life as he bends down to wrap Hajime in a hug, who struggles like a cat wanting to be released.

“Get off me!”

Tooru pulls back, wiping a tear from his long lashes,

“I’m still really upset right now, I really thought you guys hated me! So if you could please shower me with adoration, that’d be lovely.”

Tooru spreads out his arms, a pathetic expression on his face that Hajime doesn’t buy for one second.

“Tooru! I love you! You’re the best Tooru, your jump serves are great! Your setting is unmatched! You’re my bestest friend!”

You cheer him on, Hajime is balking that you’d even entertain the idea of doing that in his body, let alone acting on it, but Tooru eats it up with gleaming eyes.

“Quit feeding his ego!”

It’s your turn to be scolded by Hajime, but you just stick your tongue out at him sheepishly.

“He deserves it?”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly! He didn’t do anything, and we were being bad friends.”

“I’m on your side,”

Tooru slings an arm around your shoulder and gazes down at Hajime, who’s more aggravated now than when he was drinking straight plant paste.

It hadn’t bothered him too much initially, but having to crane his neck up to glare at Tooru is sparking some caveman urge deep inside Hajime to absolutely throttle him.

“Out. Get out of my house.”

“Technically, this isn’t your house–OW, Iwa-chan, that still hurts!”

“Newsflash Asshole-kawa, girls can hit too!”

They can, and you let Hajime prove his point.

“So,”

“If it’s something about aliens, I don’t want to hear it.”

You interrupt Tooru before he can spew something definitely about aliens.

“I wasn’t going to bring up aliens–though it’s a very valid cause you definitely need to consider. I was actually going to ask if you have any idea how long you’re gonna be like this?”

You give Tooru a tired look, and Hajime just ignores him entirely, tired of glaring no doubt.

Tooru’s been lazing around, attempting to ‘help’ you and Hajime, but you doubt he’s accomplished anything aside from scrolling through the same threads you’ve looked through. You’re willing to bet he researched for a minute or two before losing interest, abandoning the task in favor of looking through Karasuno’s and Shiratorizawa’s match history.

“If we knew, we’d tell you.”

You respond, since it seems Hajime isn’t interested in replying.

“Ooh, that reminds me,” Tooru props his elbows up on the couch, pausing whatever volleyball match he was watching to drop his phone on his chest, “I saw this foreign family comedy once where the mom and her daughter swapped places, but they had to show each other selfless love and understand what the other goes through to swap back.”

Tooru gasps in additional realization before turning to Hajime, “Iwa-chan, are you her mom?”

The look Hajime gives Tooru is enough to put him in a grave and send secondhand chills down your spine.

“Sorry, sorry, don’t hit me again! Your hands are pointy and jabby now, it’s hard to get used to.”

Ignoring that,

“Hajime and I already understand each other, we have to put up with you all day.”

“True,” Tooru is completely unbothered by that comment, “I did see a romcom where the two main characters had to kiss at the end, they ended up swapping places like that.”

You don’t like that he casually suggests this with such an innocent look on his features.

“That sounds stupid, watch better movies.”

Hajime grunts out, and you’ll admit that kissing Hajime would be nice, but under normal circumstances preferably. You don’t particularly want to kiss yourself as Hajime.

“I appreciate all your knowledge in films that have body swaps in them Tooru, but this isn’t a romcom, or a movie.”

You sigh, and Tooru hums thoughtfully.

“Sure, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He sits upright with ease, sliding off the couch and pocketing his phone,

“Anyways, I’ve got more practice to do. I’ll try not to be too hard on you tomorrow, now that I know you’ve swapped with that brute over there. Ciao!”

Tooru ducks out of the living room and out the Iwaizumi household before Hajime can assault him, and good thing, he probably would’ve had some bruises from your ‘jabby’ and ‘pointy’ hands.

With Tooru’s quick escape, you’re left contemplating whether that suggestion would actually work or not, risking glances to Hajime across the room.

A/N: not me ending a chapter on a juicy bit again afjknddm, anyways im posting this at an ungodly time but i hope everyone enjoys!

taglist: @cybergovl @babybellecheese @keijikunn @168-cm-png @sexy0android @cuddlesslut @bumbledunce

#haikyuu!!#hq!!#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime/reader #haikyuu reader insert #iwaizumi hajime fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader

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tchallasbabymama · 4 years

Text

who you are (T’Challa x Black!OC)

6,281 words

A/N: Damn I wrote a lot. So I want this to turn into a series based around music, but I haven’t figured out the series title yet. It’ll come to me.

As soon as the sun peeked out over the horizon Ashanti’s eyes blinked open. It was going to be a normal sweltering January day in Wakanda, so the merchant tribe girl took advantage of the cool morning air. She threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts before putting on her running shoes and heading out into the world. She stood on her porch to stretch her muscles while she watched the sun begin to peek between the trees. Once she limbered up, she took off for her daily run around the streets of Birnin Zana. Her mind cleared as she processed her dream from the night before.

In her dream, a faceless man walked into her store and browsed for a long time before turning to face her. Ashanti was drawn to him. Her arms found their way around his neck and her lips met his. She felt a buzzing all throughout her body and her lips heated up like she had eaten hot peppers. Their breathing synched up and his hands roamed from her neck all the way down to her ass, cupping her cheeks and getting dangerously close to her dripping pussy. He introduced his tongue to her mouth and her knees buckled as she let out a desperate moan. Just as his right hand slipped under her skirt the sun rose and woke her from her utopia with her mystery man.

Ashanti kept a dream journal, and this one was one she wanted to have on record to come back to later. It felt like more than a dream, it felt too real for it to just be a dream.

Ashanti pushed through her run and made it back to her house in record time. When she walked in the door she could hear the sounds of her roommates finally rising for the day. Ashanti loved living with Kwame and Binta, and there was never a dull day around the house living with the two rambunctious fraternal twins. Both of their parents had died by the time they graduated high school, and the big empty house had been left to them. When the twins met Ashanti they had been looking for another roommate to make it feel like a home again, and it was friendship at first sight. They knew they had found a good match.

“Good morning Titi!”

“Ayy look who it is! How was the run today?”

“You wouldn't have to ask that if you’d join me,” Ashanti teased knowing damn well Kwame wasn’t one for non-sexual physical activity. Kwame rolled his eyes and shoveled more plantains onto his plate.

“Girl you know I don't do all that running mess. For what?!”

Ashanti and Binta giggled as they shared a knowing look and the older twin handed her a plate full of food that she had just whipped up while Ashanti was on her run.

The three of them had lived together since college and fell into their morning routine years ago. Ashanti would rise at the crack of dawn and go for her run, then Binta would get up and make breakfast which was somehow always ready by whatever time Ashanti got back and Kwame finally decided to join the land of the living. Ashanti asked her once how she had perfect timing every morning, and the twins responded in perfect unison.

“Magic.” “Magic.”

Ashanti never asked again, mostly because she couldn’t tell if they were serious or not. She wouldn’t be surprised either way.

Per their routine, Ashanti shoveled her food down and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She turned on the water to let it warm up, and in the meantime she stripped down to her birthday suit and admired her body in the mirror. She had a love-hate relationship with her body for most of her life, but she found that the more she saw herself naked the more she loved what she saw. Ashanti wasn’t vain though, it was a self-esteem thing.

Once she tore her eyes away from her naked form she stepped into the falling water and just stood there for a moment letting it all wash over her. She grabbed her lemongrass and black soap bar and her loofa and went to town washing her body from head to toe.

Since she was a little girl Ashanti had a fear of singing in public, but when she was in the shower she never held back. Thankful for the soundproof vibranium-laced walls, she belted her heart out to her favorites. She even had a playlist just of songs to sing in the shower. Sometimes she would build a queue, but other times she would let the shuffle button have it’s way. This was one of those times.

This perception's got me restless I ain't dreamin' 'less you're there I supply what you require I need you like I need air You give me life with all the light you're shinin' Oh, there's no question It's evident that you would compliment the love you're not havin'

So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

She carefully swayed her hips and sang along with Luke James, feeling every bit of the emotion in his words. The song made her feel warm inside like a first crush. That nervous yet adorable energy swirled around her as she reveled in the feeling of puppy love, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Ashanti had discovered western music when Wakanda opened itself to the world, and she wanted to personally thank King T’Challa for allowing the joys of R&B and other genres from across the diaspora into her life. The melodies and the beats were reminiscent of music from her home country in many ways, and she gravitated towards the love songs, songs about heartbreak, and ass-shaking music. She needed to feel it either emotionally or physically.

She could’ve stayed in that shower for hours if she had the time, but Ashanti had errands to run and work to do.

After getting dressed for the day, she grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder before heading back downstairs. Binta was lying across the couch staring at their newly installed hologram tv in contempt. Ashanti noticed it was playing some American reality show about rich colonizers that try to look like Black women.

Binta sucked her teeth.

“Can you believe this? Why do they look like that?!” Binta half yelled at Ashanti and half yelled at the screen.

“Because, girl look at us,” Ashanti gestured at her and her roommate’s beautiful assets and they both fell out laughing.

“You heading into work already? It’s barely 8”

“Yeah, I need to get some shopping done before I open up. Be good!” Ashanti pecked Binta on the cheek before sliding her shoes on and heading out the door for the second time that morning.

Ashanti walked through the bazaar and took in the sights and smells. She made quick work of her shopping list and even with being stopped to say hello to every other person she encountered on the way, she made it to her store in record time. She loved the energy of the marketplace as a little girl growing up in the Merchant tribe. When she was seven years old her parents, Chidi and Bisa Mostafa, opened up a restaurant, Zana Cafe, smack dab in the middle of the Birnin Zana Bazaar that’s been going strong for twenty years. When the shop owner from across the street grew too old to run her art supply store she sold it to the Mostafas for a low low price. There wasn’t another shop like it in the market, so Chidi and Bisa tasked Ashanti with keeping it running.

Ashanti eventually saved enough money to buy the shop next door and she transformed the space into a combination art gallery, supply store, and amateur marketplace. She wanted it to be a space where artists of all skill levels could come together, create, and even sell their work. She sold her own handmade crystal jewelry and had a children’s section full of finger paints and fun craft projects. The kids loved when she displayed their art along the shop walls. There was even a classroom towards that back of the multi-use space she used for community art lessons.

Ashanti had named the space after the first person to encourage her art, her umakhulu Taj. She missed her grandaddy more than anything in this world, and she dedicated her creative space to his memory. People from all over Wakanda knew of Taj’s, it being the only shop of it’s kind in all of Birnin Zana.

Chidi waved at Ashanti from across the street while he prepared the restaurant for the morning rush, and she blew him a kiss before stepping into her shop, her happy place.

She closed her eyes and smiled a warm smile before drawing the curtains and letting the light in. She turned on her music and danced around the shop, straightening up as she went. She still had that same Luke James song on repeat from earlier.

Did I mention, I love tension? No more stressin' when we touch My salvation, my temptation I felt safety in your clutch (clutch) Come save me now, just stick around No, you ain't gotta stay long How you make minutes pass like seconds I feel like I gotta hold on (hmm) So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

A chill went down Ashanti’s spine as that warm fuzzy feeling filled her once more. Her face felt flushed and she kept grinning wider and wider as she shuffled around Taj’s, sweeping all the dirt out the back door. She went to sweep her stoop when the sight of the Dora Milaje caught her off guard. It wasn’t often that royalty made their way to the market, but she knew every shop owner would be clamoring to gain whoever’s attention. She kept sweeping then opened her shop doors wide before heading back inside.

Before she could make it halfway back to her spot at the front counter, she heard the chime that alerts her when new customers enter.

“Hi, welcome to Taj’s, what can I-”, her voice caught in her throat when she turned around and saw the king flanked by two of his Dora Milaje. She noticed two more stationed at the door and looked past them to see her nosy parent across the street staring into Taj’s to get a glimpse of what's going on.

“Kumkani wam.”

Ashanti saluted King T’Challa and a deep rumbling erupted from his chest before he cracked the most adorable crooked smile.

“Please, none of that.”

____________

Mornings in Birnin Zana were always calm and quiet until about 10am when the whole city woke up and went on about their day. This wasn’t the case for King T’Challa who preferred to start his day at 6. It was the only time he could really have to himself without interruption. He would always go for a run around the palace grounds or out into the lush Wakandan forest right as the sun poked out above the trees.

Another thing people didn’t know about the King of Wakanda is that he loved to cook. As a boy he spent so much of his time hanging around the kitchen staff they jokingly put him to work one day and he took right to it. Not only did T’Challa love mornings because of the solitude, he loved mornings because of breakfast. It was his favorite meal of the day. When he was a teenager he often cooked breakfast for his family, but as an adult it’s something he only had time for sparingly. He always had a meeting or a mission or something important and unavoidable in the way.

However, today he had the time because he had taken the day off. As king he answers to nobody but Bast and the people of Wakanda...but there are a lot of people and a lot of problems to solve so sometimes the king needed a day to himself. T’Challa trusted his sister and his cousin to keep things running smoothly in his absence,and he made them swear to only contact him if the country was about to collapse.

These would be a beautiful 24 hours.

After making his way back to the palace he quickly showered and threw on some clothes for the day. T’Challa felt relaxed being dressed-down and thought about maybe doing it more often. The royal robes were so stiff.

The king slid into the kitchen with a smile on his face, humming to some American song he couldn’t get out of his head but didn’t know the words to. He scooped up some mandazi the kitchen staff had left for him and took a bite while he rummaged through the refrigerator looking for whatever called to him. T’Challa found what he was looking for and got to work dicing and mixing and grating his ingredients. He had just thrown a pinch more of cardamom in the pancake batter when his mother strolled in.

“Mholo, unyana wam!”

“Good morning to you too mother,” T’Challa chuckled at the Queen Mother’s jovial mood.

He kissed her cheek and flipped the pancakes on the griddle. He turned around just in time to catch Ramonda taking a swipe of the batter.

“Mama you should know better. What kind of role model are you for your young impressionable daughter?”

“Hush, child”

The two smiled and settled into a comfortable silence while T’Challa sautéed up fragrant vegetables, making Ramonda even more impatient. Just as she was about to ask T’Challa how much longer until they could eat, her young impressionable daughter rounded the corner looking like she had been caught in a tornado. That was the normal for Shuri, a notoriously wild sleeper.

“Good morning mother, Gap Tooth,” Shuri yawned. “ Where’s Braille?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his little sister’s nicknames and cracked eggs into the pan.

“You know that boy only shows up right when the food is do-“

Ramonda was cut off by the doors opening and Prince N’Jadaka strolled in with sunglasses on and the same clothes they saw him wearing when he left last night.

He noticed all three sets of eyes were glued to his hungover form. He was surprised when instead of admonishing him for his obviously very unroyal behavior they all broke out into laughter. He couldn’t help but smile himself.

“Long night?”

“Man you already know, we’ll talk later when there aren’t sensitive ears around.”

The two male cousins dapped each other up before N’Jadaka kissed his Auntie and little cousin on their foreheads.

“Mornin’ Auntie, Rugrat.”

“Mholo Daka.”

“Topographic map.”

Even T’Challa had to give her that one.

The family of four sat down and enjoyed the home-cooked meal of spiced plantain pancakes drizzled with honey, an egg and vegetable scramble, cheese grits, spicy sausage, and fresh fruit.

T’Challa loved seeing the look of satisfaction on people’s faces when they eat his food almost as much as his family loved eating whatever he put in front of them. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship.

After breakfast, T’Challa hung around and chatted with his family while they cleaned the kitchen. They never let him do this part, and since none of the Udakus were big on relying on the palace staff for every little thing, the prince, princess, and Queen Mother of Wakanda rolled up their sleeves to do some quick manual labor. Shuri and Ramonda washed and dried the dishes while N’Jadaka wiped down the table and countertops. He finished and the two male cousins went to take a walk around the gardens.

The second they stepped outside the palace T’Challa pulled out a blunt of the finest Wakanda kush and lit the tip. He pulled the smoke into his mouth and let it float up to his nose. He inhaled and then exhaled the smoke as he felt it take effect. He passed it to N’Jadaka and started talking.

“Last night…?”

N’Jadaka took a hit.

“My nigga...so you remember that hot lil river tribe thang I told you about?” T’Challa nodded as N’Jadaka handed him the blunt.

“So I take her out, right? Tell me why, we get to the restaurant she starts acting brand new? Turns out, this whole time we been smashing she’s trying to lock this down. So I paid for dinner and had Aneka take her home-“

“So where did you end up staying all night?”

“With the waitress.”

T’Challa stopped walking and glanced at his cousin before they both broke out into a fit of giggles.

They continued to walk and talk and pass the blunt back and forth. As they neared the palace doors the blunt had burned down to the roach. The two “went for a walk” so much they had it timed perfectly.

“So what you got planned for your day off?”

“Absolutely nothing,” T’Challa said, grinning from ear to ear. “And it better-“

“Stay that way, yeah yeah nigga I know. The Brain and I got this, go enjoy your day. Do some shit you haven’t done in a while. Be lazy. Make something. Get some pussy.”

T’Challa cut his eyes at his slightly younger cousin but couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. It had been a while for all of those things and damn did he miss them.

He clapped N’Jadaka on the back and turned to walk in the other direction.

“Good idea, umzala.”

“Which one?...Aye I know you heard me witcho supersonic hearing ass…”

T’Challa just chuckled and flipped off his cousin as he rounded the corner.

“Don’t ruin my country while I’m gone!”

“I should burn it down again just for that.”

T’Challa roamed the Birnin Zana Bazaar with his Dora Milaje for the first time in at least two years. Yes, he was a busy man with very little leisure time, but the Bazaar also held a lot of memories that the king would rather not revisit. As he passed the winding staircase he sighed, thinking of his former lover Nakia. She was off living a happy life in America with her girlfriend Janelle and their two goofy looking dogs, and he was genuinely happy for her. He and Nakia had love for each other, but they eventually realized they weren’t in love and decided to split. The memories were bittersweet.

The king decided he would pay an old friend a visit. Growing up, T’Challa only had his father. His biological mother died in childbirth, and since his father didn’t meet Ramonda until he was 12, the only mother he knew as a young child had been his nanny Ada.

She was a firecracker of a woman who never let him get away with anything, and he loved her with his whole heart. She was still an unofficial member of the Udaku family with an open invitation to visit the palace whenever she wanted. T’Chaka and Ramonda had tried to offer her a room in the palace but she refused, saying, “It’s too quiet here.” After she hung up her nanny hat, Ada became an entrepreneur. She had always loved arts and crafts so she opened up an art supply shop in the middle of the Bazaar, thanks to a hefty check from the Udakus. T’Challa used to love visiting Ada’s shop, but when she grew too old to care for it anymore she sold it and he hadn’t yet seen what became of it. He decided he’d stop by the shop before visiting Ada.

People were everywhere, but T’Challa loved the hustle and bustle of the city. Many of the past monarchs avoided mingling with the public more than necessary, but T’Chaka had taught his son the value in spending time among the people. In fact, T’Challa’s favorite part of being king is when he makes his rounds to visit all the tribes.

The king and his Doras strolled through the market, periodically stopping to converse with excited children.

They rounded the corner of the main streetway and he noticed a woman sweeping the stoop in front of what was Ada’s shop. He watched the sway of her hips and tried to read her lips to figure out what song she was singing. As he got closer he could just make out her angelic voice singing over the acoustic guitar in the unfamiliar song. She had a dreamy smile on her face that made her deep dimples come out of hiding, and when she turned around to head inside the shop he noticed the thickness of her ass and thighs.

“Bast have mercy.”

His feet automatically carried him into Taj’s, and when she turned around to face him his knees nearly buckled. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

——————————-

Ashanti felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn’t believe the king was in her shop of all places.

“My apologies, your highness,” she stammered and the broom fell out of her sweaty hand.

Before she could even reach for it, the king had already lifted the old broom from the floor. He passed it to her and when their fingers brushed against each other they both felt static in their fingertips, though neither of them broke their poker faces.

“Truly, it is not a problem.”

T’Challa tore his eyes from hers and looked around the multi-use space. His eyes and eventually his body gravitated towards the childrens’ artwork along the walls, taking it all in with an adorably crooked smile.

“How long has this shop been open?”

“Coming up on two years now...your highness.”

“No need for all the formalities miss…”

“Ashanti Mostafa, my kin- I mean, um, sir,” Ashanti stumbled over her words, unsure of how to address the royal.

“I took the day off so just call me T’Challa, Miss Ashanti,” he winked and continued around the space.

“Is Taj in today?”

“No, Taj was my umakhulu. He died five years ago, so when I got this place I named it after him because he’s the one who taught me how to draw and paint and mold clay...he shared his love of art with me, so I’m paying it forward with all this,” Ashanti gestured outwardly.

T’Challa was in awe of her. He listened to her story and walked towards the artist marketplace section of the shop. His eyes gravitated towards a golden vibranium filigree choker with an intricately wrapped garnet pendant.

“These pieces are beautiful, I would love to get one for my mother and my sister. Does the artist take custom orders?”

“They will for the king.”

“Well sometimes being royalty has its privileges. Ayo, will you get the artist’s information from Miss Ashanti here?”

Ashanti couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was almost stunned to silence. The king liked her pieces.

“Actually your hi-,” she was stopped by a playful warning look from the king.

“T’Challa, I’m the artist.”

T’Challa became more and more enamoured with the shop owner every time she spoke. She was beautiful, talented, and her aura seemed to cover everything in its reach with her warm glow. He would definitely be visiting the Bazaar more often.

Ashanti rounded the counter and fiddled with her rose gold kimoyo beads before her other designs were projected in the air in front of the king.

“I thought you said you painted and molded clay. This is certainly not that,” he leaned on the counter as his Doras shared a knowing glance.

“That’s just how I started,” Ashanti explained. “I still paint sometimes when the mood hits, but nowadays I mostly craft jewelry. Oh I just got into beading, and you wouldn’t believe how sore my fingertips are.”

In that moment it took all of T’Challa’s willpower to keep from reaching out and kissing her calloused but delicate fingers.

Ashanti unconsciously leaned in closer to the king.

“So what brought you to my humble shop, T’Challa? Bast, it feels so weird to call you that.”

T’Challa chuckled, and Ashanti nearly blushed again from the deep rumbling.

“You’ll get used to it eventually. As I mentioned before, these pieces are beautiful. I would like to commission two. What is your price?”

“Two hundred a piece.”

“I’ll give you one thousand.”

Ashanti’s eyes blinked and her smile gradually crept up her chubby cheeks. The two went back and forth for over an hour over the details of the necklaces before the king bid the shop owner adieu with the promise to return in two weeks. Before he reached the door he turned around, almost catching her staring at him.

“I forgot to ask. Miss Ashanti, do you normally play the same song on repeat in the store?”

Ashanti hadn’t even noticed Luke James’ “Who You Are” had been playing ever since she opened her doors. Her mind had been clouded by the king’s powerful aura and kind eyes, and the only sound that mattered in that moment was the smoky melody of his voice. She blushed yet again.

“I don’t normally, but something had me a little distracted today,” she winked at the king. “The artist is Luke James, one of my favorites from America. You should check him out if you like what you hear.”

Her eyes locked onto his and he smirked.

“I’ll do just that.”

---------------------------------- A week passed and both Ashanti and T’Challa had listened to that same song on repeat more times than they could count. Neither one could understand how they had become so smitten with the other in a 90 minute time span.

Even the people around them had begun to notice the changes in their behavior. Unsurprisingly, the first two to say something were N’Jadaka and Kwame.

N’Jadaka slipped into T’Challa’s office after the council meeting wrapped up. His cousin had spent the last hour settling land disputes and was in desperate need of a break. They were too busy to take a walk, so T’Challa poured two generous glasses of the strongest palm wine in Wakanda. It wasn’t enough to make them drunk since the heart shaped herb running through their veins burned off alcohol too quickly for one glass to cause any damage. They’d have to drink a bottle a piece to even start to have a good time. However, they felt the effects of cannabis and psychedelics just like anyone else.

“What’s got you smiling so much? It’s starting to get creepy, you looked way too happy during that land dispute and I know you hate doing that shit.”

“I don’t know what-”

“You're really gonna lie to me? Your favorite cousin? I’m hurt.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his least favorite cousin’s dramatics.

“You are my only cousin, N’Jadaka. And besides, I really do not know what you mean, I have just been in good spirits lately.”

“Mmmhm. You got some pussy, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You sure? Because you're acting like you got some pussy.”

On the other side of Birnin Zana, Kwame watched Ashanti glide around the living room with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Girl I know you’re not that happy about dusting. Spill.”

“What?” Ashanti giggled. “I’m just in a good mood today, it’s been a good week at the shop.”

Kwame cut his eyes at her and pursed his lips. He didn’t believe a damn thing she said. Binta told him she had seen Ashanti humming and slow dancing in the kitchen the other day, so he knew something had to be up.

“Did you get some dick? Or some pus- nah that’s a dick face right there.”

“Who’s a dick face?” Binta came in and grabbed some coconut water from the fridge.

“Apparently I have ‘just got some dick’ face,” Ashanti responded with an eye roll.

“Yeah you’ve had it for about a week now. Spill.”

“That’s what I said, twin!”

They did their annoying twin handshake and turned back to Ashanti.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s just been a good week at the shop.”

Ashanti tried to get back to her dusting, but they wouldn’t let her.

“Nuh uh girl, get to talking.”

“B…”

“We’re waiting…”

Ashanti rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck, or so her mom would say had she seen it.

“Ok, fine! This man came into the shop the other day and had me blushing like a sixth grader with her first crush. He was just so...fine, and smooth, and sweet…”

Ashanti drifted off into a daydream while the twins sat there taking it all in. Kwame was the first to speak.

“Titi, your nose is wide the fuck open. Did you get his name, tap beads, something?!”

Ashanti couldn’t admit she had a crush on the king. For one, she was a little embarrassed because she knew how foolish she looked pining after a royal who could never return the sentiments. Secondly, if she told them she would never hear the end of it.

“Uh, his name is...Amare.”

Binta’s eyes went soft.

“Amare, I’ve always loved that name. What’s he look like?”

“Like Bast carved him out of vibranium.”

Kwame and Binta look at each other again.

“Like I said...wide open. So when are you opening those legs too?”

Ashanti tried to look busy.

“I’m uh, not sure if he’ll be back. His accent sounded American.”

She knew that would get them off her case. Ever since T’Challa announced Wakanda’s riches to the world they had opened up their doors to the Lost Tribe. For the last two years, Black people from all over the globe had travelled to Wakanda, so it would be an easy cop out for Ashanti.

“Well damn girl, you finally get a man and this is how it goes...maybe one day the king will allow outsiders to move here permanently and you can get your Prince Charming.”

“Heh, maybe. So what’s for dinner?”

——————-

Another week passed and the day had come for Ashanti and T’Challa to see each other again.

Both of them were nervous beyond belief, but only one of them had someone to confide in.

“I’m telling you, T, just be cool. Plus, you’re the king, she’d have to be an idiot to say no.”

T’Challa had planned to ask Ashanti out on a date. He couldn’t get her out of his head the whole two weeks they were apart, and he took it as a sign from Bast that she was something special.

He was nervous to see her again and he hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Right in the center of the Birnin Zana Bazaar, Ashanti fiddled with the custom necklaces she made at the king’s request. She hoped they were good enough for royalty and her nerves started to get the best of her. Her hands shook and her breathing sped up. She took a deep breath then walked out her shop and across the street to her parents’ restaurant. Her mom was the first to greet her.

“Hi honey, what brings you over to our side of the street?”

“Bisa you know the girl wants something!” Chidi yelled from the supply closet.

“Hush!”

“Hello to you too baba!” Ashanti laughed at her father’s antics.

“I’m just nervous. The king is coming back today...what if he hates them? What if Queen Mother or Princess Shuri hate them?!”

Ashanti started to get worked up again and Bisa rubbed her back in slow circles. Chidi brought her a cup of tea and the three of them sat outside the cafe in silence while she calmed down.

“Sweetie, it’ll be ok. He wouldn’t have commissioned the pieces if he thought they wouldn’t like them. And he’s seen your work, how could he not like it?! If so he’s a fool.”

“Baba! This is the king we’re talking about.”

“I don’t care! Anyone who can’t see my baby’s talent isn’t worth my respect.” He kissed her on her forehead and when he opened his eyes he noticed the women in red coming around the corner.

“Someone’s early…”

Ashanti looked confused for a moment before her mother gestured for her to turn around.

There stood the king and his Dora Milaje.

Bisa and Chidi quickly stood and saluted the king, Ashanti giggled and they looked at her in disbelief.

“That is unnecessary, please.”

“We are sorry, my king. Welcome to our restaurant, we are Ashanti’s parents. I am Chidi Mostafa and this is my wife Bisa.”

“We are so honored to have you.”

T’Challa reached out and shook their hands, shocking the older Mostafas.

Ashanti wondered if she looked this starstruck last time...she concluded she probably did.

However, this time when she stared at him she made sure to take in all his features. The faint crinkle around his eyes and his frown lines reminded her of their slight age difference and the stress of his job. His big bright eyes made him look like a puppy and his gap-toothed smile leaned perfectly to the left.

“Unfortunately I cannot stay long, I have other business to attend to that I cannot get out of. I do hope to see the two of you again, but I believe Miss Ashanti here has something for me.”

“I sure do. Mama, Baba, I’ll swing by later.”

She kissed their cheeks and walked shoulder to shoulder with the king to her shop across the street.

“I have had your parents’ food before, in my opinion it is the best in all of the Bazaar. You are very talented people, Miss Ashanti.”

She was getting really tired of blushing, but it happened again.

“Thanks T’Challa. So, um, let’s get to it so you can get to your important kingly duties.”

They shared a smile.

She pulled out two large velvet boxes and opened them. Sitting among the silk were two necklaces that were more beautiful than T’Challa had imagined.

Shuri’s necklace featured a rough sapphire gem wrapped in wire hanging from a structured v-shaped vibranium collar. The stones set in the vibranium gave the necklace an ombre look as the stones grew lighter and lighter all the way down to the sapphire. The necklace would land about mid-chest on the princess, and T’Challa just knew she’d love it.

Queen Mother’s necklace was even more intricate and more like the necklace he had seen his first time in the shop. The gold filigree collar necklace was dripping with small gems hanging from every loop, with one large ruby set in the middle.

“Miss Ashanti…” T’Challa barely breathed out.

“Oh no, You hate them.”

“No, no! Quite the opposite actually. They’re beautiful, I-I’m speechless.”

Ashanti breathed a sigh of relief.

“As I mentioned before, you Mostafa’s are very talented…and beautiful.”

Ashanti gasped. There was no way…

“My king?”

“What? It is true. You are a very beautiful woman Ashanti, among many other things.”

That damn song started playing in her head and her smile pushed her dimples deeper the larger it grew.

“Thank you, T’Challa. You’re...alright looking.”

They both had to have a laugh at that one.

“Just alright?” He leaned in closer to her across the counter.

“Hm, maybe”

“Will you let me change your mind?”

“How would you do that?” She asked, leaning closer and getting a whiff of the cocoa butter on his skin.

“If you’d accompany me for a night out tomorrow evening I could show you.”

Ashanti froze and backed up. For a minute there she almost forgot who he was, but she had to remind herself that he wasn’t just a cute customer. He was the king, and he had to have been out of his Bast-given mind.

Unless this was something he did often.

“My k-, T’Challa...If you are looking for someone to play with and discard, I suggest looking elsewhere. I’m sure there are plenty of your subjects lined up in waiting for the bachelor king to swoop them up.”

Ashanti immediately regretted her words, but they just seemed to tickle T’Challa.

“Miss Ashanti, I am not that kind of man. I believe you have me confused with Prince N’Jadaka.”

Ashanti snorted. She had heard many stories about the prince and sort of assumed all royals behaved in such a manner.

“Besides I am much too busy to play the field since becoming king. Had you known me 5-10 years ago it would’ve been a different story.” T’Challa winked and noticed her look away to hide her smile. She remained silent.

“Please, it would bring me great joy to see you again. If not I will leave you alone. Just think about it.”

He tapped his black and purple kimoyo beads to her rose gold ones.

“There, now you have my contact information. It’s my direct line, please feel free to use it.”

With that he turned and left the shop. Ashanti had to pinch herself to make sure she was awake. After a minute it started to sink in that the king of Wakanda had asked her on a date.

“That really just happened.”

She stood there in a daze and was only pulled out of it when a customer walked into the shop.

“Welcome to Taj’s!”

—————

Chapter 2

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #t'challa #t'challa x oc #playlist

71 notes · View notes

agustdef · 4 years

Text

VIBE

Pairing: Yoongi x Trans!Reader

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 12.4k

Warning: Cheating (not by the pairing); Brief Sexual Content; Mental Health; Mention of Emotional and Mental Abuse; Mention of Mental Health

Rating: NC17

Banner Marker: @guktro

Lovely Beta Reader: @guktro because he’s a persistent little thing and wanted to be the first to read it.

A/N: The fic was written for @guktro and takes place in my I Found You and With All My Heart universe. With that being said, I must say that this portrayal of of trans man was written with Gray in mind and to fit his feelings/what he wanted. So, while I apologize if this makes you feel unrepresented I will not deal with any invalidating of Gray’s feelings towards his own identify.

YN rushed to class after sleeping through the first five alarms he set. He’d meant to get up early, but after a night spent focused on getting a side project done he’d fallen asleep early morning. He scolded himself as he sprinted into the classroom, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. His burst of late-night inspiration meant that he’d completed the graphic work he’d been tasked with, a thing that kicked his ass for weeks before that night. And it also meant that he had extra money deposited in his bank account by the time he woke up that morning.

A win.

Well, a partial win because the look his professor gave when he just barely had his butt in a seat as class started lessened some of the joy.

There was no time to linger on any of that though because the moment the professor started talking it was full steam ahead. They’d entered another section of the course, which brought them all closer to designing a website completely from scratch. That meant the coding, art, font, almost everything had to be crafted by them.

It was something that excited YN, but also made him extremely nervous seeing as the end product would be the deciding factor of their final grade. Plus, it was going to be done in pairs and despite having attended school their all undergrad, he wasn't buddy buddy with anyone in his classes or his major for that matter. All his friends were in different majors or different schools. Which meant it would be a random person and goodness knows the odds of that person being a team player were low.

However, he tried to keep positive or at least his friends tried to keep him positive. It didn’t help, so he’d just decided to act like it wasn’t a thing until it was. Something that worked until halfway through the class when he heard his professor mention how he’d out of the partners right that moment.

Panic was not a strong enough word for what YN felt as his head snapped up to look from his laptop screen to the front of the class. His eyes scanned the projection on the wall and he held his breath as he did, hoping that whoever the hell it was wasn’t a total shit show. When he found his own name, part of him wished that he’d had a total shitshow instead of who he got though.

After reading the name he turned his head to look towards the back of the room and his eyes met Min Yoongi’s. Yoongi smiled at YN and tipped his head, something YN did in return so not to be perceived as unhappy before turning around again.

But YN was unhappy. Well, not unhappy because he thought bad of Yoongi or anything, but because the man made him nervous as hell. He’d been in most of YN’s graphic design classes since he’d arrived in Korea and a distraction since day one. YN thought that he was ridiculously cute and then as time went by the attraction grew as he watched him go from pale, flawless skin to his arms covered in tattoos. Something about seeing all the art on him heightened things for YN and made him more of a flustered mess around him. All without having never spoken to him before.

Not that YN hadn’t tried. With bullying from his friend’s, but that day as he’d approached “to ask about the homework” Yoongi was joined by a Black woman that YN had seen around him a few times. They’d smiled at each other, linked arms, and walked away from campus as YN reached the halfway point. It left him a tad heartbroken to see that he hadn’t managed to even say hi and that Yoongi may have had a girlfriend.

From that day on YN continued his thirsting from a distance and leaving it at that.

The project pairing meant that he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore and he was unsure of how that would play out, but for the rest of the class time he told himself he could get through it. The reminder that he had a grade to worry about was enough to give some faux confidence.

That wore off as soon as Yoongi approached him as they were dismissed.

“I rented one of the computer rooms for something else, but would you mind heading there with me right now? We don’t have to get any real work done, but it could get the whole expectations part out of the way,” Yoongi said.

Startled, YN only found it in himself to nod and then off they went. Yoongi led the way out the building and to one several feet away that was filled with private rooms for students to rent for course work. They checked in and went into one of the computer rooms on the lower floor.

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first, just unpacked his stuff and booted up the computer. And that left YN awkwardly sitting in a chair next to him, his bag clutched against his chest as he waited. He didn’t know what to do next and that was more about the awkward first group mate meeting then it did any attraction that he felt.

Once Yoongi was done with all his prep he sat in the other chair and turned to YN. He must have sensed the tension because he smiled wide, one of those gum showing ones that YN had seen once or twice when he was talking to his friends. It had a strange calming effect.

“You already know, I’m Min Yoongi,” he said, his hand held out.

YN was a deer in headlights for a second, but soon enough reached out to grasp the hand.

“I’m YN LN.”

“Nice to meet you, YN. We have other classes together, right?”

“Yes, we do.”

Conversation fizzled for a second after that and the awkward tension returned, but Yoongi didn’t allow them to sit in it for too long.

“Okay. I know I said we wouldn’t do any actual work today, but do you have any ideas for what we should make the site for?”

The next beat of silence was because YN needed a second to think, before remembering that he’d made a list in the beginning of the semester, so he’d have it. Without saying a word he unlocked his phone and searched through the notes app to find it. Once it was on the screen he handed the phone over to Yoongi.

There was a look of confusion on his face before he glanced down at the screen and saw what was there. He looked over it for a moment before handing it back.

“We have some of the same ideas. I thought about using this as an excuse to build something for my shop and portfolio, but we don’t have to do that. Don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to get unpaid work out of you.”

That piqued YN’s interest.

“For your shop?” he asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Yes, I work at a tattoo shop.”

“Ah. Then we could do that. Doing it for a real thing always makes it easier to get the work done. And at least here payment would be a grade and something to add to my resume as a real in use website. But I’d also take a tattoo as payment,” YN said jokingly.

At first Yoongi appeared taken aback, but then his smile returned.

“Anything you want.”

A shift happened in YN and he relaxed a lot more, even putting his bag on the floor.

“Cool, you have any specifics you want to try for?”

And from there they just talked, bouncing ideas off each other and cracking the occasional joke. It was an easy flow they had going and by the time they thought to save some things for a later date in mind an hour had passed.

YN cringed when he saw the clock. “Sorry, for eating into your room time.”

Yoongi waved him off.

“It’s fine. It means I can’t procrastinate and will get something done before my sister comes to meet me for a late lunch. She’ll kill me if I don’t get it done,” he said.

Thought of his own sister made YN frown, but he pushed away the thoughts and gathered his stuff to leave. He turned and smiled at Yoongi, then waved as he backed from the room.

“Text me your schedule and we can figure out when to meet again,” YN said.

Yoongi nodded and they both turned away from each other, but just as YN pushed the door open Yoongi called out to him. Confused, he turned back to see Yoongi’s brows furrow as if in that.

“What’s up?” YN asked.

“You go by he/him, right?”

Discomfort built in an instant as YN was unsure of the reaction that would come with his answer, but he nodded his head and Yoongi smiled again.

“Okay, just making sure so I don’t use the wrong thing.”

With that they said their goodbyes again and YN left, but he left with a happy feeling inside him. He’d moved past the need for outside validation of his gender, but it was always nice to feel someone being considerate. Especially when that person was someone he’d never told before and had to have heard it through the grapevine. He knew how easy it was to misgender him because his appearance screamed feminine and he had no impending plans nor made an effort to make his transition physically apparent.

It was just nice for it to not have someone make a big deal out of it.

So, he walked away from that first meeting beyond happy with the way things went and confident about the project. Which was how he felt after every meeting after that and even on the day that they presented their project.

Everything had gone so well and he only had one regret: Not getting a chance to know Yoongi much outside of their assignment. But the semester was over and YN was so busy with school, work, and life that he barely even had the time for his friends.

And the next thing he knew he was on a plane on the way back home to the US.

###

The moment YN stepped into his apartment he wished he hadn’t. He’d closed the door gently as not to rouse his boyfriend who worked the night shift, but when he turned to face the living room he saw that the man was already awake. In fact, he was awake and he had company.

On the couch sat Sam and between his legs was some “friend�� of his with his dick halfway down her throat. The sight didn’t startle YN and he barely had the energy to be upset about it. Especially when both of them realized he was there and could only look like a deer in headlights. Well, Sam was pretending to care that he’d been caught, but YN saw the way he fought the little smirk that wanted to form on his lips.

“Oh, my goodness,” the girl said.

That was what made YN focus solely on her and he remembered her from a few group hang outs. She was a sweet girl who was newer to the group and Sam liked to hang around her lot, though she always seemed to put distance between them when he got too close. It seemed like she’d given up on doing that.

“I didn’t know you lived here,” she said.

“So, if I didn’t it was okay to give oral to my boyfriend?” YN asked, his voice empty.

She shook her head profusely and rose to her feet, fixing her clothes as she did.

“No. My goodness no. Sam… he, well he said you guys broke up. I wouldn’t… I’m not the type to…”

Her scrambling to find an excuse should’ve given YN some sort of relief or reassurance that she wasn’t a horrible person, but he felt nothing. He merely held up his hand to get her to stop and walked back out of the door without another word to either of them.

He’d planned to get in a quick lunch nap, thus coming home when he did, but that was out of the window. So, YN walked around aimlessly until he stumbled upon a cafe. Once inside, he ordered something and found an empty booth away from everyone.

The first few minutes were sat in silence with him merely staring at the other bench seat blankly. He didn’t speak or move until the barista brought over his drink and sandwich. A brief thank you and then he began to nibble on the food, hoping it was enough to focus his mind on something else, but it wasn’t.

All he could think about was the disaster that was his life.

When YN returned to the US he saw it as temporary and as a means to help out his family. His mother struggled a little and he wanted to help, plus he’d missed them since he hadn’t had the chance to go home during his undergrad. Things were fine for a while, but then they all just became so mean and uncaring about his feelings. His mother tried, but sometimes she was just the worst. And his little sister was rude and acted like she hated him or at least that’s what it felt like. Every second of the day it was her trying to undermine and trash talk YN, get the others on her side. And while YN’s brother wasn’t like the other two, he wasn’t the most helpful in saying anything when they ganged up on him.

It was horrible for his already not that great mental state and at some point he was pushed too far. The only option for his own health and safety was to leave, but he poured so much into them it was hard. After talking to a friend back in Korea they got him a plan to go back and he saved as much as he could for the ticket. And the moment he had enough his bags were packed and he was on a plane there.

From there he stayed with friend’s, though as they all progressed in life and started dating seriously or getting engaged it became harder for him to do. Thankfully, he had started dating and as he prepared to find someone else to move with Sam offered for them to stay together. YN had been unsure, there was a gut feeling he didn’t listen to, but living with a boyfriend prematurely was better than being homeless.

So, he moved in, but things dissolved quickly. Sam was trash. His manipulative nature became more obvious and though YN could see it, he was really into him. Certain things were let go or blatantly ignored and that gave him incentive to get worse. YN had found him cheating twice and he’d let Sam talk him into staying both times, but things were still bad. Especially as he became disillusioned and realized he had to stay until he could find a place he could afford to live.

Seoul was expensive and even on his great salary he couldn’t afford it. So, he endured it. Dealt with Sam’s bullshit and tried to remind his heart that Sam wasn’t good for them, despite how they still acted as if they were a happy couple.

Life refused to give him a break and with everything crashing down he’d flirted with returning to the US, but that was no better than staying with Sam. And he didn’t want to be there, he wanted to be in Seoul. But that didn’t stop the thoughts as he sat there and ate his subpar sandwich at the cafe he hated.

All he had to do was have a few friends go to get his stuff with him, stay with them for maybe a day and take the next plane back home. It was that easy, though nothing about it felt easy. Especially as he reminded himself he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want his joy ruined by someone else.

Which meant that before he spiraled in a public place he needed to pull it together and check apartments again. He’d done it on the train ride back to his apartment and found nothing, but things changed.

After several deep breaths he pulled out his phone and scrolled through all the possible apps for housing. Unsurprisingly nothing that he’d rent alone was in his price range that he could do, which frustrated him and almost made him put his phone down but he pushed forward. He’d accepted a long time ago that he would need a roommate, so he narrowed his searches for those kinds and found a few, but they were mostly creepy or still too much.

That’s when he was really ready to give up, but then the app he was on glitched and refreshed the page. Annoying because he had to scroll all the way down again, but also a heaven send. As he re-scrolled he stumbled upon a listing that was below what he was willing to pay and in a great neighborhood close to his place of work.

YN had never moved so fast to look through the pictures and see what other information the person had to say. The room that would be his was spacious, had great windows, and a wonderful view. Plus, the rules laid out weren’t overbearing.

A simple scroll to the bio of the owner, Sidney, had him even happier because he saw a picture of a Black woman with a kind smile. She explained she was a resident at a prestigious hospital and her last roommate moved out, so she needed someone else to help pay the bills. And there was a direct line about not minding gender at all as long as you were a decent person.

For once life appeared to be on YN’s side, so he scrambled to message Sidney through the app giving the required info about himself and making it clear that he could come to meet her as soon as she was available.

He hoped for a response before he got off work, but what he didn’t expect was one ten minutes later as he left the cafe. She told him it was an off day so he could come after five. YN responded quickly that he got off work at fifteen minutes after five and could be there by five thirty. Sidney replied with a confirmation and YN went back to work with a pep in his step and some hope.

However, that hope turned to nerves as he made his way to the apartment. He even debated not going in once he reached the building but persisted and made his way up with the mantra “you got this” playing in his head. It was effective enough that by the time he knocked he believed it.

The door opened a few seconds after his first knock and he was greeted by the woman who’d he’d seen in the picture. She smiled at him.

“You must be YN,” she said.

YN nodded. “Yes, and you’re Sidney.”

“That I am. Please do come in.”

Sidney motioned YN inside and he paused to kick off his shoes before following her further into the apartment. It was so much nicer in person and he felt himself get excited at the thought of living there but had to remind himself that it was possible he wouldn’t. He had to get along with her after all and just because she seemed nice didn’t mean that she would just let him stay or actually was nice.

“I can show you around and then we can sit and talk or the other way around, whatever you’d prefer. Also, a random man may appear at some point, he does not live here but insists on invading my home anyway,” Sidney said, her voice grew louder as she said the last part.

“Oh, shut it,” a voice shouted out in the distance.

YN was confused at first, but also amused by whatever dynamic Sidney had with the mystery man who was supposedly an unwelcomed guest.

“Tour first is fine,” YN said.

“Tour it is then. You can put down your bag and we can start in the kitchen,” she said.

Without looking YN sat his bag on the couch and followed closely behind Sidney. She walked him through the space, pointing what was where and what was what. Every room got a somewhat detailed explanation, even the empty room that could be his. It was weird how in-depth Sidney was for showing someone who hadn’t been given the go ahead to live there yet. But YN assumed it was just how she was or some way to ensure that the person knew a lot before making a choice themselves.

Five minutes later they finished and walked back out to the living room where there was suddenly someone on the couch. YN assumed it was the person Sidney had been calling out before and shrugged it off.

“Okay, now we’ll sit down and talk for a bit. Get to know each other,” Sidney said as she plopped down onto an armchair.

“And if you aren’t some creep I get to ask you questions too,” the man said.

Something about the voice was familiar, but YN didn’t know just how familiar until he finally walked around the couch and could see the man’s tattoos and then his face. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide as he stared at him.

Yoongi’s reaction was practically the same, going from an intimidating glare to a fish out of water.

“YN?” he asked.

“Uh, you two know each other?” a confused Sidney asked.

All YN could do was nod as he thought about what kind of craziness was his life.

“Um, yeah. We went to college together. Had a lot of the same class and he even helped me build the shop's website,” Yoongi said.

That’s all it took for Sidney to join and create a trio of shocked expressions.

“He’s that YN?”

For some reason that snapped YN out of his momentary glitching as he wondered what she meant by that, but by the glare Yoongi leveled her with he was sure he’d never figure that out. Though Sidney appeared unphased by his clear displeasure and simply shrugged. Which was met with a roll of the eyes before Yoongi focused on YN again.

“I thought you went back home,” Yoongi said.

YN took a moment to clear his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I did. But the plan was always to come back and I did that two years ago.”

“Oh, that’s good. Glad you got to come back,” Yoongi said, a wide smile on his lips.

As he’d learned years back Yoongi’s smile could make anything feel okay and all the nerves and confusion YN felt before he smiled were pushed to the wayside.

“Well I’ve made my decision. You can move in,” Sidney said, disrupting the moment.

Both of them nearly broke their necks turning to look at her, eyes nearly popping out of their heads.

“W-what?” YN asked.

“You have a job and the ability to pay rent, right?”

“Yes. I’m a section leader at LE International. I can even show pay stubs if you’d like.”

“Then that’s that. Yoongi clearly isn’t opposed to you and that’s good enough for me. You can move in whenever.”

“Even right now?”

“If you want, but is that all you have to move in with?” Sidney asked, tone cautious.

Unsure of what to say YN simply shook his head, but when neither of them said anything or pushed he felt the need to give an explanation. Plus, he was let in without any issue and so he felt a sense of comfort with them.

“I do have more stuff, but it’s at my old apartment and going there isn’t a good idea. At least not right now,” he said.

At that Sidney and Yoongi shared a look for a second before Sidney turned to YN and smiled at her though it was a tad unsettling, much different from the ones she’d directed YN’s way before.

“When do they leave the apartment?” she asked.

Startled, YN looked at her for a long time before answering.

“Um, he’s off tonight but works again in two todays,” YN said.

Sidney nodded before turning Yoongi. “Call Kookie, Namjoon, and hell even Jin. Those wide ass shoulders of his are intimidating all on their own. Tell them to meet us here in fifteen.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word, just threw a reassuring look YN’s way before leaving the room to make the calls.

All of it happened so quickly that YN took a second longer to process it all.

“Oh no, you don’t have to ge-”

A shake of Sidney’s head shut him up.

“Two days is much too long to be without your stuff and even if it wasn’t it may not all be there if he sees you aren’t coming back. I know I’m overstepping a bit and I can call this all off, but you deserve to be in an environment away from whatever it is you’re trying to escape and that means without fear of never getting your stuff back. So, we can proceed and even go alone if it makes you more comfortable or stop it here.”

A warmness filled YN and he felt his shoulders shake a little as tears he didn’t know he held back fell. People he barely knew were being nicer to him than of those he’d known for years or his whole life. And they were prepared to go up against her ex for him without a single question asked. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“Please help,” he managed to mutter.

Sidney nodded and carefully moved closer to YN, asking before she touched him and then easing him into it before pulling him into a tight hug. Something YN didn’t know that he needed until it happened.

Once they got him calm and their friends arrived they headed out to YN’s ex’s place. He was nervous the whole way, but the entire thing was a bit of a blur. They got there, their friend’s Jungkook and Namjoon appearing behind YN was enough to keep Sam at bay and the others packed up his stuff. There were a few words from Sam, but any time he shifted the wrong way Jungkook took a step forward and he shut up. It was a weird switch from the sweet-faced tattooed kid she’d met at Sidney’s and the one ready to kick his ex’s ass if he breathed wrong.

Everything was moved out and Sam had his key back within about thirty minutes. And they were back at the apartment soon after that. They all helped YN unpack his stuff and get comfortable in his room, even ordering his favorite food for dinner.

By eleven that night he was curled up in his new room, in his new apartment, and for the first time in a while he felt like things clicked.

###

Comfort wasn’t something YN easily found, but it settled in after the first two weeks of living with Sidney. Though she was very busy most of the time with work and school life, she went out of her way to make sure YN was okay and taking proper care of himself. And all her friends were just the same.

After week one of being there he’d met the rest of the friend group, which consisted of Taehyung and Jimin, who he knew from work. They’d been nothing but kind and didn’t push him to tell his life story. All they requested was that he tell them when they crossed a line or truly didn’t want to participate in something; and they’d backed off quickly the one time it happened.

From there it had been so easy to mesh with them, come out of his comfort zone, and just live his life without worries of his ex or where he’d live next. Months passed so quickly and he hadn’t endured a panic attack at all.

It was a nice change of pace and put a bit of a pep in his step.

After a night of watching movies and a morning of breakfast made by Sidney who came off a twelve-hour shift and who apparently craved a mountain of homemade blueberry pancakes. YN didn’t complain because for one it was food he didn’t have to make and for two he hadn’t had pancakes in over a year. So, consuming all that crossed his plate was a must. Though as he traveled to work regret in the form of drowsiness settled in quite a bit.

All that left the moment he stepped in front of the work. Though he’d been working there a while it made him quite anxious to go in every day. He loved his job and wouldn’t trade it for the world, but sometimes that feeling was enough to make him want to try and freelance or something so he could avoid offices and a team of people.

But that wasn’t why his demeanor changed when he arrived. Oh no, it was the two men who stood off to the side of the main doors that did that. Or more so one of the men that was there.

Jimin and Yoongi stood in front of the building with smiles on their faces as they talked together about something that appeared beyond hilarious from the outside looking in. They were laughing and wrapped up in their own worlds as they spoke. Not noticing YN’s gawking nor the many others who eyed them up intensely. Though to be fair YN was sure Jimin was used to it from how much it happened daily. However, with Yoongi there and wearing a short sleeve shirt with his tattoos on full display the attention increased tenfold. Which was always the norm when he came in to work with the company on something.

At some point YN found himself drifting from the momentary drooling over how hot Yoongi was to enjoying the expressions of those who saw them. Something he got so wrapped up in that he didn’t notice Jimin calling his name and waving him over for about fifteen seconds.

Once he snapped out of it, he walked over, head ducked as he avoided the prying eyes of those who noticed where he was headed.

“Hey, we’ve been waiting for you. Thought you normally came in earlier?” Jimin asked after they parted from a hug.

YN nodded. “I do, but I woke up to Sidney cooking breakfast. There was so much of it. She wouldn’t stop filling my plate.”

Yoongi laughed at that, the first sound he’d heard after he’d walked over. It had YN staring him down out of curiosity, but that washed away once he pulled him into a side hug. The affection was brief, but still quite nice.

“Blueberry pancakes?” Yoongi asked.

That guess would’ve left YN from months before surprising, but he’d learned that Yoongi and Sidney knew each other creepy well. Like there was being close to someone and then there was this telepathic like connection where Sidney could see the way Yoongi’s nose twitched and was fast enough to get him a tissue before he sneezed and vice versa.

Though he didn’t think about it often YN was quite jealous of their sibling-like dynamic when compared to the one he had with his own siblings.

“Yeah, she said something about needing them before she lost it,” YN said.

Before Yoongi could respond to that both of them were ushered inside of the building with Jimin muttering about needing to get into the conference room on time. They went without struggle because an angry Jimin wasn’t something anyone wanted and being late wasn’t on the agenda for that morning.

Once the three of them were inside of the elevator Yoongi spoke up.

“She does that when she’s coming off multiple twelve hour shifts sometimes. She’ll either pass out or stress cook blueberry pancakes. I think with the school part of her life finally letting up she has enough energy to make the pancakes now.”

With that new information YN made a mental note to learn to make the pancakes so sometimes she could come home and eat them then pass out. He knew she was a stress cooker and baker, but surely the craving for pancakes existed even when she was dead on her feet. So, the chance for her to get the satisfaction of both was something he liked for her. She worked so hard nonstop and deserved nice things.

While YN plotted on how to get her to teach him the recipe they reached their floor and headed out, going straight to the conference they were to meet that morning. When they walked in they were the last ones, but others were clearly still settling in which meant that their entrance wasn’t the focus. They moved quickly to get into their seats and a few minutes later the meeting began.

“As you know we’re taking on work for an upcoming idol group. Usually that would mean very little from us because they have an in-house team of some sort, but this project is out of their depth. They’re looking for some top-notch work with the concept they’re going for. And because they want things to be cohesive you will be working closely to give ideas and creative direction. This is very involved,” Section Leader Kim said.

Everyone muttered words of understanding before she continued.

“Some of you have hands-on experience with prop type things, so you will be in charge of helping conceptualize that and bring it to life. While three of you will be dealing with a lot of their social media and branding stuff. You will be creating from scratch for them to ensure they appear as unique as possible.”

There were more murmurs and then she directed her gaze towards YN, Jimin, and Yoongi.

“You three will be in charge of all things social media and branding. You will craft from top to bottom. I know YN has experience in it and Yoongi has done it a few times before when he freelances for us, many of those times will partnered with Jimin. So, I’m counting on all of you to do this. Understood?”

“Yes,” they all said.

“Good. There is a meeting set with the company’s creative director, the group, and their manager for an hour from now. Go prepare with your best portfolio examples and take the van that’ll be waiting downstairs in twenty minutes.”

In an instant they were on their feet and out of the room. A mix of fear and excitement drove them to go to their desks and grab any printed things they might need as well as chargers for their tablets just in case. Well, Jimin and YN did, Yoongi simply plopped down into a random chair and started going through his own tablet. When YN walked past he saw him copying certain stuff into one file marked with the project name.

Within fifteen minutes they were ready and in the van that drove them to wherever the meeting was.

YN felt the anxious energy that filled the vehicle but tried to keep his own in check. His focus was on his own tablet organizing some things, so they were easy to find when he tried to show them. However, he did that so quickly that he needed something else to preoccupy his mind, so he opened up his coloring app and used the pen to color in the picture of a sunset. The calming effect wasn’t the same as if it had been paper and crayons, but it helped a great deal. So much so that by the time they reached the company building he felt like he was entering a lunch date with work colleagues and not walking into the lion’s den to do his job well enough to please the entertainment company and his boss.

That didn’t mean that he felt confident enough to take the lead though. Yoongi was the one to do that with YN and Jimin following close behind him. They both got so nervous in new, high pressure environments that it was good to have someone else take charge sometimes.

And with Yoongi at the helm things moved smoothly. They got inside, were brought into a conference room, provided drinks, and NDAs for them to sign. No one tried to be difficult nor did anyone side eye them as often happened, though there were lingering eyes on Yoongi’s tattoos. Would’ve been some on Jimin’s too if he hadn’t worn a long sleeve.

Their wait for others only lasted for about five minutes before they were standing and greeting the group of seven. They all introduced themselves and as the introductions took place YN was shocked to learn that the group was the four, heavily tattooed men. He was very here for it, but surprised nonetheless.

Surprises didn’t stop there though. The moment butts hit seats the creative director dove into what they were looking to do. All of it came at them fast and YN barely had time to process the gist of what the hell was going on. It was about halfway that Jimin asked them to slow down a little and they obliged, explaining things in a less excited manner. Once he finished each of the members took a turn explaining what they hoped things to look like.

From there they were all allowed to share their past work and some ideas. They’d received vague information from work so they’d kind of gotten some understanding of what was wanted, but nothing they had truly fit. That wasn’t a problem though, there was some interest in some of the stuff and it was only the first meeting.

Yoongi had finished explaining something to the manager who’d wondered if they could create some sort of glitch vibe to incorporate when one of the members, Hyun, pulled his attention.

“I apologize if I offend you or it’s too personal, but who gave you that tattoo?” he asked.

Yoongi paused before following Hyun’s gaze to the large tattoo on his forearm that was about as intricate as the others, but glitched out and splashed with colors. It was one of YN’s favorites.

“Oh, Jimin did,” Yoongi said while pointing towards the man in question.

That led to them all looking wide eyed at as bashful Jimin buckled a bit under their gazes. There was some nervous energy wafting off him and YN wasn’t sure if it was because they all appeared amazed or because despite major changes to who could tattoo in Korea they were displeased to see it so openly admitted.

YN knew it was the former, well it mostly seemed like the former.

“You do tattoos?” Moon, another member, asked.

Jimin nodded and then cleared his throat before speaking.

“It’s something I do on the side because I like it. I usually work at Yoongi’s shop. He’s a bit of a reverse of me, works full time doing that and freelances doing this.”

Again, they looked beyond shook at the revelation and that was when things truly got rolling as they brainstormed ideas. They took a few pictures of Yoongi’s tattoo and then built off the concept of it. Though YN was not a tattoo artist, nor did he have any, it was easy to keep up since he was around them so often and found them interesting.

Time flew with their newfound excitement and suddenly four hours had passed. Since the group had other things to do they left first and after finalizing some things with them the creative director also took his leave. He said he wouldn’t need anything from them for the rest of the day, but to spend time coming up with things that fit for what they were trying to do for their meeting a few days later.

So, they left on a high note. The issue was that they were so excited and eager about everything they found themselves at Yoongi’s working on things immediately. They’d all taken up space and began working on designs that they could implement for it. They were only going for rough sketches or bare bones ideas to be decided on next meeting, but it was all consuming.

Seokjin had come through with food and forced them to sleep, but they worked so hard to get everything done. And if it weren’t for their excitement to bounce ideas off each other they would have gone all that time with no social activity at all. Not that isolated while submerging yourself in work so much you only had two people to talk to was a good thing.

Thankfully, they emerged from that behavior before Sidney had to make good to come over and kick all their asses. They’d finished everything in time for their next meeting and when that one went well they truly felt like hot shit.

However, they needed to rough draft a website. Something that Jimin knew how to do but not like them, which worked out since he had a few appointments to do and it didn’t hinder progress. Though it did leave Yoongi and YN alone, something that they hadn’t been since their college project. Which meant awkwardness to start before they got into a groove and found the right flow.

It reminded YN of how much he’d loved working with Yoongi back in college, as well as stirred up some feelings he hadn’t thought about. Not enough to say that he truly fell for the man, but enough that he wished he could ask him to accompany him on a non-work-related outing just the two of them.

Luck was on YN’s side though, because the moment that they finished the website Yoongi turned to him and smiled. One that YN returned whole heartedly before raising his hand so that they could high-five. Yoongi rolled his eyes but did it anyway and then there was a shift.

Instead of releasing YN’s hand he held onto it and stared at him for several, long seconds before he finally said anything.

“I’m going to say something and please tell me if I’m crossing a line,” Yoongi said.

“Uh, okay.”

“I know that it hasn’t been that long since the whole crazy ex thing and us reconnecting in a way we hadn’t when we first met. But I want to take you out on a date. To be clear it’s not anything extremely serious, I’ve just been feeling something and I need to act on it before I allow myself to possibly feel anything stronger.”

YN’s eyes went wide two sentences and just stayed that way for a bit. His mind replayed the words over and over in his head, knowing that he’d heard Yoongi right the first time he said it.

“You want to go on a date with me?” he finally managed to ask.

Again, Yoongi’s smile took form as he nodded. “Yes, I do if that’s something you want to do. No pressure, I’ll be fine if you say no. I’ll even be fine if you say yes and we just don’t fully click that way. A no pressure situation.”

Despite the constant reminder of no pressure, YN felt a great deal of pressure but also none at the same time. He wanted the date to go well so he wanted to try to make it work but knowing that Yoongi was prepared to continue as they were if what they thought was there wasn’t was a relief.

Probably the chillest request for a date he’d ever gotten. Definitely from the chillest person he’d ever encountered.

“Yes, I would like to go on a date with you,” YN finally said.

Yoongi’s smile getting any wider felt impossible but it did. His expression and body language screamed happy and that only enhanced the joy that spread through YN after he’d said yes.

“Anything in mind?” YN asked.

For a moment Yoongi’s lips formed a pout as he mulled it over and then his eyes lit up as he seemingly figured it out.

“There’s this temporary restaurant and art gallery in Incheon. They have some of the work by that one artist you said you liked recently. You could meet me at the shop after my last client on Saturday and we could go. If that’s something that interests you,” he said.

All it took was the mention of seeing the artist Bri’s work for YN to be on board with the plan in an instant.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he said.

Laughter escaped Yoongi at the response and he nodded. “Saturday it is then.”

YN went home sometime after that feeling a kind of lightness and genuine excitement that he hadn’t in a while. And he didn’t care if it only lasted a few minutes or hours, he savored it.

###

The entire time YN got ready for the date he’d been calm. There were no worries or internal meltdowns, no matter how much closer he got to the actual meet up time. He’d gotten up from his binge watching of Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan and showered, then dressed without issue. Didn’t even overthink what to wear, just found something that he deemed date appropriate and casual. Though he did pause for a moment to thank the heavens that the dress code for where they were going was relaxed.

Even as he applied his make-up and waved bye to a half away asleep, still in scrubs Sidney on the couch on his way out he was fine. It was a miracle and he was so happy to not be beside himself, but naturally that all came crashing down.

As he approached the last stop on his train ride he noticed a few people gathered together laughing and talking. They’d all been there since the stop before, but YN paid them no mind as he played a game on his phone. But an extra loud laugh drew his attention and when his head lifted to glance there way he realized he knew them. It was a collection of some of his old friends, ones who’d let them stay with them for a bit and were also the reason he’d met his ex. And with them was aforementioned ex.

A discomfort built in YN’s stomach, not from seeing them but from the idea of confrontation. Despite clear attempts to block him and keep away, Sam had made it his mission to pop up someway in YN’s life for a few months before vanishing completely. And though he’d given up, YN knew him to hold a grudge and be persistent. If he saw YN there would be some attempt to talk and with people to back him avoiding him was hard. But YN told himself he could do it.

YN looked away from them and focused on his phone once more but made sure to keep alert just in case they saw him. He made sure he had everything he came onto the train with, moved his purse from his lap to crossbody, and held his phone firm with Yoongi’s number at the ready.

The moment the train came to his stop he stood and moved past them quickly, keeping his head down and his eyes averted. However, the train jolted a little harder than usual sending him stumbling into one of them a little. He did his best to offer a quick apology and then turned back to the doors willing them to open faster. And when they did he bolted out of there just as his name was being called out by Sam.

People around him were startled by the person sprinting through the station and up to the surface, but YN didn’t stop until he was across the street from the station and amongst a group of people. He paused to catch his breath and ensure he hadn’t been followed out of there and when both of those things were clear he made his way towards the tattoo shop. Thankfully, it wasn’t far from the train station.

As he walked there the adrenaline from that close call left him and made way for the nerves that had remained at bay all day. It was as if they’d been awakened by running into people he wanted to avoid, though something told him it was more likely they’d just been waiting for the right moment to strike. What better moment was when he was only a few hundred feet from the shop's entrance.

One more time that night YN found himself pausing to pull it together, words of encouragement and surety repeated in his head to get him to make the final steps. And once he got in front of the door he was calmer, though not as much as he preferred.

“You got this,” he whispered just as he pushed the door open.

Upon entering he was greeted by Jimin who sat behind the front desk and Jungkook who’d just emerged from one of the back rooms. They both wore genuine smiles, clearly happy to see YN and that was enough for the incident from several minutes ago to leave his brain. People who actually cared deserved more of his focus than anyone else.

“Hey, he just finished up and is cleaning his space. You can go back there if you want,” Jungkook said after a brief hug.

After he hugged Jimin he headed on back without a word. He’d been to their shop a few times and it wasn’t hard to find things. Yoongi’s room was the last one in the hall and when YN reached it he took a deep breath before knocking on it. There was silence and then a soft come in before he proceeded.

When YN opened the door he was met with Yoongi wiping down his chair and the strong smell of a bleach laced cleaning substance. It made his nose wrinkle and he almost backed out of the room, but he got used to the smell quickly.

“Hi,” YN said.

Though that was the natural thing to say YN beat himself up for saying it. Something in him said he could have said something cooler, but he knew damn well trying to be cool or appear chill or whatever the hell he wanted to go for was stupid. Also, Yoongi didn’t give a fuck about that anyway.

Stopping his efforts to clean off the chair, Yoongi stood tall and turned to smile at him. It was wide and though there was a trace of tired etched into his face it didn’t detract from the genuineness of it.

“Hey. I’ll be done in a few minutes. Just want to make sure things are good since I don’t come in tomorrow.”

YN nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll just stare at this wall for a while.”

Yoongi laughed at that and then went back to cleaning.

And true to his word YN proceeded to stare at the wall. But it wasn’t like it was blank, the thing was covered in some of this work. Yoongi tended to make prints of his favorite pieces or the ones that spoke best to his ability and put them framed up on walls. Which meant that the space was beautiful and YN could get lost in examining them all for hours. He’d tuned out Yoongi, Jungkook, Jin, and Sidney talking the first time he laid eyes on it because he was so swept up in it all. They’d all taken faux offense to him ignoring them, but all voiced understanding of why. Their compliments had Yoongi turning red by the end of it.

Something was different about the first time though. At first YN couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but a few seconds later he realized a piece had been moved and there was a new one in its place. While the other had been a drawing the one in its place was a chunk of text. It was in a beautiful script that one would deem impossible to do so fluidly on skin, but Yoongi had achieved that.

Once YN got past that he noticed that it appeared to be words from Puck’s final monologue in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That made him laugh, but also got him thinking about something that he wanted that was similar. He’d wanted a tattoo when he was younger and then as he grew up and dealt with life the urge became stronger, though he had more direction than before.

While thinking he hadn’t realized how far he’d drifted until Yoongi pressed a hand to his lower back.

“See something you want?” Yoongi asked.

Instinct told him to push the idea aside and tell Yoongi it was nothing, but his mouth and brain seemed to disconnect on the matter.

“Just thinking about how I’ve wanted a tattoo for forever. And this one just makes the urge all the more real.”

There was no response at first and that made YN start to doubt sharing that, but when he turned to glance at Yoongi he saw a thoughtful expression.

“How about we do one?” Yoongi asked after a few more moments tick by.

“Now?”

“Now. I still owe you a tattoo, don’t I? Plus, we can go to the exhibit another day. Though if you don’t want to spend our first date getting takeout and getting a tattoo then we can do it later.”

For a moment YN thought about it, but then realized there wasn’t much to think about at all.

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

And that’s all that was needed to get Yoongi smiling again and guiding YN over to his desk where he sketched out the tattoos. They dove into Yoongi’s portfolio for inspiration, but nothing fully stuck no matter how much YN loved it. After who knows how long they ordered dinner from a nearby sushi restaurant and even as they ate they focused on finding the one.

It was frustrating and YN felt a bit bad about using their date like that only for them to come up with nothing. He’d planned to voice that thought, but then suddenly Yoongi cleared all the stuff and pulled out a pencil and a sketch pad. Then he turned to face YN, expression serious, something that YN had grown used to while they worked together.

“What’s your favorite color?” Yoongi asked.

“Uh… blue.”

“Mine too. Favorite cliche tattoo?”

“Song lyrics.”

Yoongi nodded along and started writing something on the paper, but he held it so YN couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Favorite time of year?”

“Winter.”

There was more nodding and writing before Yoongi looked up once more, his eyes fixed on YN’s as he spoke.

“And without giving me some job or basic life goal, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

And surprisingly YN knew how to respond without question. “The hero of my own story.”

That got a small smile out of him and he even reached over to squeeze YN’s knee before he wrote something down and then tore the page out of the book. YN watched Yoongi sit the paper to the side and then him sketching on the blank page under it.

Not a word was uttered as he did so, the room silent and uncomfortable. Of course, confusion filled YN but after all the time spent looking and with the determined look of Yoongi’s face he let him do his thing. Which only lasted for a few minutes before Yoongi flipped the sketch pad for YN to see what it was.

YN burst into tears as he took it in.

Everything about it was perfect despite it being in slightly rough shape. The right words were there and even the more drawing oriented parts of it fit so perfectly and didn’t overtake the words. Goodness, YN couldn’t stop focusing on the words. They just slapped him in the face with how well that fit what he wanted. How well they fit him.

Gathering himself was hard, but he managed to make it clear to Yoongi that he loved it and that’s what he wanted. Yoongi wanted to comfort him, but YN waved it off and after making sure that all was fine he got to work getting it drawn on his tablet so he could print it out for stencil.

All of it happened so fast from there, they’d found a spot for it and how it would lay and YN was in the chair ready to go. Yoongi had all his stuff ready to go and the buzz of the tattoo gun brought YN back to, but something was different then.

The euphoria from finding the right thing and finally doing something he’d wanted for years was still there, but there was that voice in the back of his head poking at it. It’s what he wanted and he knew that wouldn’t change, but something just felt off. Like it wasn’t the right time for him to be getting it. Like he wasn’t ready for it.

“Wait,” he said just before Yoongi’s needle touched his skin.

Thankfully, Yoongi heard him just in time and pulled away, turning the gun off and setting it down on the table. Though there was clear confusion on his face he didn’t say anything, just waited for YN to be ready for whatever the next thing was.

His kindness and patience made YN feel guilty and a little bit stupid. He’d gotten a date with Yoongi only for them to not go on the planned one because of some whim that YN had and couldn’t go through with.

“I… I want the tattoo, but I just can’t right now. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I just… something is telling me that right now isn’t the right time. And I hate that because I know I love it and want it, but I’d hate to have the joy of getting it clouded by whatever weird shit is happening in my head. And I hate it more because we could have been finishing a really great date doing something we both enjoy instead of spending hours doing this only for me to chicken out during the last second. It’s unfair to you. And I’m so, so, so sorry, Yoon.”

YN’s ranting would’ve gone on longer if the guilt hadn’t increased once he realized that he’d been talking for a bit and was definitely going to keep going if he wasn’t stopped.

Following his little spiral there was silence before Yoongi reached out and held both of his hands with his own. He waited until YN looked up at him and then gave him a gentle smile while his hands squeezed YN’s lightly.

“I’m the one who offered out of nowhere. I’m the one who decided to make this a consultation kinda date. I made those choices and I stand by them. We found something and you’re not ready and that’s fine. It happens to a lot of people. Sid almost got the tattoo on her side about ten times before she finally went through with it. And she was as sure as you were about this one, probably cried just as much. I’ve had clients even do that a time or two, it’s not a big deal I promise you. We ate food, we spent time together, and though it was frustrating at times I had a good time with you. I promise. Plus, I already said we could retry that date another time. So, unless you no longer want to go on another date with me, then we can still do that.”

Relief was not the right word for what YN felt after that, but he couldn’t think of another word for it. At least not until he found himself leaned forward with his lips pressed against Yoongi’s. He was unsure if he initiated the kiss, but all that mattered is that Yoongi returned the kiss without hesitation.

When he pulled away YN found the right word for what he felt.

Bliss.

###

Several dates followed the first one and they’re all great. The initial date plan never happens because after the night they were supposed to go, the pop up ended sooner than it should have. That made YN feel even more guilty about changing their plans, but after a great afternoon spent at a festival it was forgotten. Especially with how well things went.

YN and Yoongi clicked in a romantic way. They both felt it and weren’t shy about the growth in their affection towards each other nor their feelings.

However, despite their dating for over a month neither of them had made the move to make things more official. Which wasn’t really necessary since they and everyone else knew they were together, but it didn’t stop the odd thought here and there about if Yoongi genuinely wanted to commit to YN. And he was sure Yoongi had the same thought whenever he went to introduce YN and stumbled on what to call him. Neither of them said anything though.

Everyone thought they were being stupid, including Sidney, but they let them work out their stuff at their own pace. Even if their own pace was two idiots not just addressing the one thing that could remove any inkling of doubt, while knowing the other is thinking it.

It would have gone on longer if on the day that YN and Yoongi were going on yet another date, Sidney was too. There was a doctor that she’d been sleeping with that she sometimes went out with, though usually only as a preface to sex. After an incident where she had to explain to him that anal beads were not in fact candy, things had been strained and Sidney said he’d asked her out to get closer again. She didn’t see it becoming much more, but she also wasn’t against trying so she’d agreed.

As she’d parted ways with YN after they left the apartment there had been an offhand comment from her telling YN to ensure her boyfriend didn’t eat the cookie dough she had sitting in the fridge. The recipe called for a two-day waiting period before baking and she refused to make another batch just because Yoongi was a fiend.

Usually YN brushed off the label, but it stuck with him that time and he felt his mind go into overdrive as his cheeks burned at the thought. Yoongi was not his boyfriend, but he wanted him to be and that meant that he was going to have to ask him. He needed a plan to do that, but just as his brain got to working on one Yoongi’s car pulled up.

The thought was dismissed as he hopped in and Yoongi leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away from the building.

For a moment all YN thought about was how soft his lips were.

That was until he realized he was unfamiliar with the route being driven and didn’t even know what the date was supposed to be.

“Uh, where are we going?” he asked.

Yoongi shook his head immediately. “I didn’t tell you for a reason. You’ll find out when we get there.”

Naturally, that made YN pout, but he didn’t press him for it.

“I would joke about you taking me somewhere to kill me, but you’re too lazy to dispose of a body. Unless Sidney didn’t actually go on a date and is waiting for you and my dead body at a second location.”

At first Yoongi laughed, but then his brows furrowed and a frown formed upon his lips.

“She has a date? Please tell me it’s not with anal bead dude?”

All YN did was sigh and that elicited a groan of annoyance from Yoongi. He didn’t care for the man and that was before the aforementioned incident. There were many times he’d told YN, Sidney, their friends, and the man in question how stupid he thought he was. And how he didn’t understand how he managed to get Sidney to be around him for more than two seconds, let alone became a doctor. It wasn’t the most he’d disliked one of the people Sid was with, but it was apparently up there on the top of the list.

“You know she isn’t even into him that much, so I don’t know why you’re so worried. Not like she’s going to marry him suddenly. She’d probably marry Jin before anyone else. They mesh,” YN offered trying to placate him.

There was a huff from Yoongi and then a nod. “True. Or Hoseok, they would probably be good together. If they ever stopped being busy when the other could finally come around.”

“One day.”

From there conversation fizzled and YN stared out of the window watching the world go by. Minutes ticked by and then they were pulled into a parking lot and headed to a train station. Even as YN realized the direction they were headed he couldn’t figure out what it was they were going to do.

Which was fine since they reached their destination and he would have never guessed it in a million years. And he was beyond happy about that.

They stood in line at a place that wore the sign of the artist he’d wanted to see the work of and from the windows he could see it was a similar pop up to the one they’d been meant to go to. The pieces were different, but it was still a set up for dining amongst the works.

YN was so shocked and giddy that he didn’t utter a word until they were seated at a table for two and waiting for their waiter to return with water.

“I didn’t know they opened another one. I’d been hoping and stalking their accounts for it, but nothing ever came up. Not even yesterday. This is so fuckin’ cool,” he said.

The ramblings of joy didn’t stop there, YN continued on gushing about the artwork and about how much he loved being there. And there were several thank yous thrown Yoongi’s way, all of which he waved off.

There just hadn’t been something that excited him like that in a while and he couldn’t shut up about it. Not that Yoongi seemed to mind. They still had a back and forth, Yoongi putting his two cents in and sometimes being the reason for why the conversation shifted in one direction or another. Though it was mostly about the artwork and sometimes about how good the food was.

Before YN knew it they’d finished dinner and began to walk around to look at the art. Though the entrance area held some there was another room down a short hallway that gave more of the feel of an actual gallery. The things hung in there had a similar feel to the things in the dining space but were vastly different. The artist tended to be more traditional with their stuff, but the things back there were more digital.

And right then YN fell more in love with their work and Yoongi found himself entranced by it for the first time.

At that point they were kids in a candy store calling over the parents every time they found something that they loved. It was chaotic, but they both had enough patience to wait for one another to come look at what they were talking about.

They were beyond adorable. But they were also so caught up in the work that they didn’t realize how much time had passed until there was an announcement of five minutes until closing. There was some pouting on both their parts, but they understood and turned to go hand and hand.

Until YN stopped suddenly.

Confused, Yoongi stopped too and turned to glance at him. He was met with a wide smile, but a determined expression. It clearly worried him and he opened his mouth to speak, but so did YN.

“Is somethi-”

“Will you be my boyfriend? Also, can we do the tattoo tonight?”

The first question had Yoongi choking on air and missing the second one.

“Repeat that,” he said.

Seconds ticked by with YN saying nothing, because despite the confidence during the initial ask, he felt his nerves kick in hard as he was requested to say it again.

“Um, well I asked if you would be my boyfriend and if I could finally get that tattoo.”

More silence came as Yoongi’s mouth opened wide and closed repeatedly, the poor man was doing a terrible fish impression. It would have been funny or something to tease him about in many situations, but all it did was make YN nervous as he waited for an answer.

Thankfully, the suffering only lasted about thirty seconds before Yoongi pulled it together. He pulled YN close, their faces inches apart and then answered.

“Yes,” he said before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to YN’s lips.

It was a gentle, yet passionate kiss that made YN melt into his embrace. He never wanted to leave that moment, but when they pulled apart he couldn’t stop the happy feeling that filled him. Which was only amplified by Yoongi’s bright smile.

They would have stayed like that, but then the two-minute warning came and they realized they needed to move. But before they left Yoongi turned to YN.

“Also, that was yes to both things if that wasn’t clear. I’ll text Kook in the car.”

And just like that they were off. They practically sprinted to the train station and then to the car once they got off the train. There was a buzz of adrenaline surrounding them and it didn’t start to lessen until they stepped foot inside the shop.

Though Yoongi still appeared incredibly happy and ready to conquer the world, YN found himself deflating a bit. Each step towards Yoongi’s room brought on nerves and by the time his butt hit the seat of the tattoo chair he felt like he was halfway ready to sprint out of the room.

All the feelings from when they chose the tattoo came back and he was there unsure of whether to go through it, despite really wanting to. It was a recipe for disappointment and he didn’t want to chicken out again, but his brain wasn’t being kind.

The shift in him went unnoticed by Yoongi until he turned to him with the printed off stencil in hand. When he saw YN’s downturned lips and the tense behavior he frowned.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Yoongi said softly.

That almost broke YN, because he was being so sweet about enduring YN’s indecisive ass twice in a row. It was too nice of him and it only made YN frown more, but instead of guilt flooding in certainty did. Something in YN shifted and drowned out the other voice being a pain in his ass and suddenly a smile graced his lips.

“No. I want to do it,” he said.

Of course, Yoongi appeared unsure for a moment but after staring him down he nodded and got to work.

Alcohol pads were used to wipe down YN’s arm and then the stencil was placed. It was done a few times to get the right placement, but when it was just right on his forearm Yoongi proceeded; with caution though.

He allowed YN to choose the music and asked if he was sure, then grabbed the gun and turned it on. The first mark was a tense one for both of them, but as time went on things grew more relaxed and went along smoothly.

The tattoo in question wasn’t that big, but it had some intricate details that needed all of Yoongi’s focus. It left YN alone with his thoughts, but he never drifted to a bad place. If anything he was more so worried about how long it would take and trying to play on his phone without moving the arm that Yoongi was working on.

A few hours and one small break later though, the tattoo was done. Yoongi had been able to get it done completely but said YN would have to come back once it was healed to get it colored again just to be safe.

That didn’t matter to YN though. In that moment all he wanted to do was see the thing. He’d avoided looking at it through the process and during the break so he could get the full effect, and that is definitely what he got.

The moment his eyes laid on the tattoo through the mirror his body shook as tears fell rapidly.

On his forearm was a forest of leafless trees. The setting was winter and that could be seen from the snow that was depicted falling down. While the trees were a lot of the tattoo they started before the crook up his elbow and stopped about two or three inches before his wrist. From that point on a plot of blue dahlias among snow took up the remainder of the space. Though the ones they were thinking of when coming up with the tattoo were red, they’d chosen blue because it was something that already brought YN happiness. But it didn’t stop there. Since the dahlias weren’t as tall as the trees it left space above it. So, in the midst of all the little snowflakes were words written in a beautiful script. They were truly the thing that evoked the most emotion from YN.

We'll be in full bloom at the end of these hardships.

Those words resonated with him on a whole different level and though they were bittersweet, all he felt was joy with them. Hope too. Those were things he thought were out of his reach, but he’d finally felt them.

Yoongi, Sidney, their friends, and most of all YN himself had finally helped him see he could feel like life was on his side. And it was the greatest feeling in the world.

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harrylee94 · 3 years

Text

The Tournament - Chapter 1

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: "This kingdom was a large one, ruled by whom many would call a fair and just ruler; the Witch King. This title was passed down from generation to generation, as was the way of monarchies, but upon them was also bestowed a second. Over the years there had been many Mand’alors -- Mand’alor the Ultimate, Mand’alor the Blessed, Mand’alor the Vindicated -- but this one was Mand’alor the Beloved. They were also Din’s buir.

And they were dying."

It is known that when a new Witch King comes to the throne they are in need of a Protector, and in order to find this Protector there must be a tournament.

Notes: I blame the TIOOIW DinCobb Discord for this. It's all you fault. You know who you are! *squints eyes at you*

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"Thus ends the reign of Mand’alor the Beloved" - Din

The day was cold and damp, the sky grey and threatening rain, though the ground was still slick from the downpour the night before, and the well walked paths that were unfortunate enough not to be paved with wood or stone were doing their best to imitate a bog. Din held back a shiver as he looked over the parapet, watching men carry great logs in through the gatehouse. There were a great number of them, mostly beech and pine, but he knew they had to be ready, even if he was not.

This kingdom was a large one, ruled by whom many would call a fair and just ruler; the Witch King. This title was passed down from generation to generation, as was the way of monarchies, but upon them was also bestowed a second. Over the years there had been many Mand’alors -- Mand’alor the Ultimate, Mand’alor the Blessed, Mand’alor the Vindicated -- but this one was Mand’alor the Beloved. They were also Din’s buir.

And they were dying.

He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, the clouds dark and the wind tugging at his cloak. His buir had well earned their title, using her status and resources to help rebuild the kingdom after the war her predecessor, Mand’alor the Insatiable, had pulled them into. She had spoken to the people, learned their stories, and she acted on them. There were more schools, more medical facilities, a patrol of guards in every town, and a system of communication even to the smallest hamlet.

There had been difficulties, of course. Some of the Lords and Clan Chiefs had not liked how their smallfolk were being given greater attention than they, nor how they were having to adjust to this new way of thinking, and unfortunately a number of them hadn’t, but Mand’alor the Beloved had believed in her cause, and Din had too.

He looked down to the stables, the structure built into the walls of the castle, and smiled his first smile for some days. He could just see a flash of the silver hair of the stable hand working in the stalls as he cared for the creatures. Din had little chance to speak to those outside of his immediate circle at court these days, but once upon a time he would take the chance to talk to everyone, from his tailors to the girl who stoked the fire in the mornings. Cobb Vanth was one of the few whom he had truly enjoyed the company of, short though it had always been, and the memory of those times gave him some light to cling onto in this dark time.

His smile had always been earnest and true, and Din had spent so long surrounded by the pageantry of court that he felt he could be himself around the stable hand.

But now those days were gone, and the inevitable had arrived.

The Witch King was dying, and while the weather itself knew it, few others did. There was speculation of course, Din had heard the whispers of servants and courtiers, but nothing to confirm their suspicions. He, however, did not have the luxury of doubt in this matter.

The title of Witch King, while intimidating, was not merely for show; there was a magic in the line of Mand’alors, one passed from buir to ad, through blood or by ritual, and it tingled under Din’s skin. His own magic had always been small, a weakness for the Lords and Chiefs to exploit and look down upon, even though they had no true magic of their own. His buir had never lost faith in him though, and so, while the occasional taunt stung, he never forgot who he was.

In this moment, however, he wished he could, his skin prickling like the oncoming storm was already here as the magic inside him swelled in anticipation. He’d been in a constant state of hypertension for day. His body ached and his eyes stung from the lack of sleep, but preparations had to be made. He sighed in relief when the last of the timbers were set in the hall, and he nodded to each of the woodsmen as they passed back through the gatehouse, each clutching a bag of coin from their payment and smiles on their faces.

Din looked to the stables again, unable to keep his eyes away, and froze as his gaze caught on that of a silver haired man’s.

Cobb Vanth looked up at him like he knew him, like he knew every deep dark secret that there had ever been orevery would be, and still there was a softness and a sympathy to that gaze, something warm and comforting, without judgement or scorn. There were no smiles today, only a solemn press of his lips, but somehow it was what he needed. Cobb nodded at him -- in a deferential manner of course, but also in acknowledgement and support -- and Din returned it before forcing himself to turn away. He couldn’t allow himself to get lost in a fantasy today.

Taking a deep breath, Din walked the stretch of walkway to the stairs, heading down into the main ward. Mud splashed on his boots as he walked towards the smithy, hoping to check on the progress of the nails, but the quick patter of footsteps pulled him up short.

"My prince!"

A servant was rushing towards him, his balance in the mud tenuous at best, and Din reached out to stabilise him as he gasped.

"My prince," the servant said again, and Din recognised him as a new kitchen hand, though he'd not yet had the chance to learn his name. "Your… The Mand'alor… She requests your presence in the war room."

Din could see sorrow in the lad's eyes, and he swallowed thickly. "Thank you," he said around the lump in his throat. "I'll be there immediately."

The servant nodded again and stepped away. He could feel eyes on him, people watching, the whispers already beginning to circulate, but he ignored them as he tried to ignore his grief, and he made his way into the castle.

The corridors, strewn with reed mats and tapestries depicting the history of his line, had always held a warmth for him in his youth. Even up to the week before it had been a comfort, and the physical warmth the fabric gave from protecting the air against the cold of the stone walls was equally precious. Now the eyes of past Witch Kings looked down on him in judgement, and he shuffled past them as quickly as he dared, eyes forward and steps clipped. The servants he passed bowed or curtseyed as he pressed, but he hadn't the time to return it. The magic in his bones was throbbing to the beat of his heart, urging him, tugging him onwards, and he couldn't risk missing…

The doors to the war room were small, much as all but the main doors were in the castle, but they were carved with the skull of the great mythosaur. It was an intimidating sight, but Din knocked the wood, forcing himself not to fidget as he stood in place.

"Enter."

The hinges were well kept, but there was enough age to them that they creeked a warning whenever someone opened the door, and it made Din wince as he stepped through, closing the door securely behind him.

The war room was not an overly large room, and the windows were small and high in the walls. Very little natural light ever entered the enclosed space, and the lack of tapestries made it especially cold. That wasn't to say that the walls were bare; there were shelves of books, scrolls and maps across two of the walls, drawers below filled with carved pieces for the war games and strategies that had been frequently plotted at the table that sat in the centre of the room. The banner of the Witch King and the banner of the current Mand'alor hung from hooks against the far wall, beneath which was displayed a small collection of ancient weapons, each one well taken care of and just as lethal as the day they'd been forged. Oil lamps and sconces, all lit and flickering their warm light, were spaced carefully in buckets of sand around the room, a precaution to protect the precious paper and parchment.

Din had been in this room many times; his lessons had spanned a great many things, but it was his buir who taught him the art of war, and it was here that she shared her wisdom. Never had he seen a chair here before though, especially not the large seat on which his buir sat, encased in her ceremonial armour and finest clothes. At her left shoulder stood her Protector, hand curled about the sword at her hip as she watched Din approach. Their helms sat on the unusually clear table, but their faces were almost as unreadable as they would have been with them on.

Kovra, Mand’alor the Beloved, had deep shadows under her eyes, her skin was wan, paler than Din had seen it before the Sickness had taken her, but there was not a hair out of place, and she looked as immovable as a statue. There was a brief flicker of warmth in her gaze when she looked at him, but then it was gone and only the Witch King remained.

The air around them sang, the magic of their line swirling about them like a wind that only touched the two of them, and Din followed its eager nudges to kneel before his King.

“Din Djarin,” the Witch King said, her voice strong and full of power, “Prince of Mandalore, child of my heart, you come before me now to take up the mantle which I have carried these many years. Are you prepared?”

Din took a shuddering breath as the magic around them swelled. “I am prepared.”

The Witch King nodded and turned to her Protector. “Saruk Kerta, Protector of the Witch King, Knight and Verd of the Kingdom of Mandalore, you are here to bear witness. Are you prepared?”

Saruk bowed deeply. “I am prepared, Mand’alor.”

The Witch King nodded again and turned back to Din, holding her arm out to him. He took it, grasping it in a warrior’s greeting, and he blinked back tears from the knowledge that the warmth he could feel would cool.

“Din Djarin,” the Witch King continued, her fingers curling into his elbow, “Are you prepared to govern and protect the people of Mandalore, be they from low or high birth, whatever their creed?”

“I am prepared,” Din said, ignoring the tear that had slipped from his eye.

“Will you ensure that the laws of this land are followed by all, that you yourself will maintain and execute them should the need arise, and that your justice and mercy will abide by these laws?”

“I shall ensure this.”

“And will you, as the new Witch King of Mandalore, respect the magic of our line, use it sparingly, in the protection of others, and only in dire need, and respect its needs?”

“I will respect the magic of our line.”

These were the vows he would have to repeat before hundreds of witnesses in a few days time, but here and now they were the most potent. Here they meant more than just a promise of words, it was an oath made with magic as his witness. If he broke it, the magic would abandon him, as it had Mand’alor the Lesser when he’d attempted to use it for his own gains.

The Witch King nodded again as the magic around them rang in acceptance of his vows, and turned to her Protector.

“Saruk Kerta, do you accept the responsibility of Protector for Din Djarin until the search for his own Protector has been completed?”

“I do accept this responsibility,” Saruk replied.

There was a pause, the hairs on the back of Din’s neck rising as the swirling magic froze with them, the moment spreading out into eternity. He dared not even breathe lest the sound break the spell. It was as though the entire world was holding its breath with him, waiting for the verdict.

The Witch King smiled, and Kovra, buir to Din Djarin, leaned forwards to press a kiss to his brow.

“Thus ends the reign of Mand’alor the Beloved,” she whispered, the Sickness thick in her voice once more. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner ad. Ni kelir ration kuyir ti gar.”

With her next exhale her body went taught, her fingers digging deep into Din’s arm, hard enough to bruise. He almost cried out in fear for her, but his voice was caught in his throat as an intense power rushed into him through her grip. It was as though he was being warmed by a fire after spending a day in the cold, like the Battle Fever was on him, and like he was stood in the midst of a storm on the tallest peak with his full suit of armour on, all at once. It throbbed through him, his own small well of magic deepening from a quiet vibration into a deep hum. It settled deep into him, into his bones, until it felt as much a part of him as his own thoughts.

And then his buir went limp, her weight falling against him as her last breath left her. Curling his arms around her, feeling for any sign of life and finding none, Din sobbed at the loss of his mother.

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Mando'a Translations:

biur - parent Verd - soldier/warrior Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner ad. Ni kelir ration kuyir ti gar. - I love you, my child. I will always be with you.

Link to Chapter 2

#writing #fic #fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #cobb vanth #dincobb #sort of #medieval au

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