#imagine me buried under a mountain of flowers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

Text

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

“I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

8K notes · View notes

bollur · 3 years

Note

hello i have returned with a single used brain cell and humbly submit this request: percy lowkey (struggling?) to confess to a very oblivious reader bc they simply cannot take a hint after x years of flirting (and maybe percy is a little worried that reader is just casually flirting without any actual feelings for him but is just really good at hiding their feelings) (and percy just can't take the uncertainty any longer) (pls feel free to freestyle whatever pushes percy to confess 😊 emotional constipation, angst, whatever fits the bill)

again, love your work!!! 💕💕💕 it's not trash it's ✨FANTASTIC✨ !!!!!

a/n: why did i have so much fun with this?

i'm actually kind of proud of this one.

tag list: @imaginesfire

Percival stopped in his tracks, having been making his way downstairs, heading to the kitchen to finally eat for the first time that day after having just washed up. Looking down over the railing, you stood with a bright smile on your face, a bouquet of flowers resting carefully in your arms, a card in one of your hands. “That’s the second time this week,” he commented casually, continuing his descent once more.

Now watching him, you flashed a smirk, clutching them a bit tighter but making sure not to crush them, and teased, “Don’t be jealous just because you didn’t think about doing it first, Percival.”

Biting his tongue for a moment, he rounded the end of the stairs to stand in front of you. If only you knew. “You say that, yet,” he began, plucking the card from between your fingers to read over his own handwriting that created a sweet poem. “You actually have no idea who it is.”

“You?” echoed from your lips, gaze trailing up the wall as you wandered in thought. “I imagine it would be someone handsome.” eyes becoming a bit starry as your imagination run wild.

Percy’s expression tilted to amusement, asking playfully; “Implying I’m not?”

Coming down from your little cloud nine, you looked back at him, and he felt his heart flutter. “Oh, absolutely not,” you replied softly, a smile turning tender. “You’re the prettiest person I know, actually.”

A slight heat came to the tips of his ears, and he had to bury the little fire igniting in his belly under a mountain of dirt to extinguish it. “You know yourself, don’t you?” came the smooth quip, a smile to match your own.

The look you shot him was almost a silent compliment on how sly his comment was. That’s how he was going to take it anyway. Turning back to your flowers, you hummed, gently rubbing a petal between your fingers. “It’s a shame, you know,” soft was your voice, as though you were afraid your next words would scare the plants within your hands. “I love them, but it makes me so sad when they wither.” brows furrowed, you gave a little laugh. “Could you imagine that? An immortal flower?”

It took only a second before something in him clicked, flicking from you to the flowers in your hand. It was a ridiculous idea … he was going to do it. “Yes, I suppose anyone else can only imagine,” he murmured to you, placing a hand on your upper arm as he excused himself rather quickly.

Percival missed the contemplative expression that crossed your face as you watched him make his way along the path of his workshop before casting it at your bouquet as well with a sharp exhale.

The forge in the basement burned hot that day, all into the night and the morning. It was deep enough that the pounding of metal couldn’t be heard until the steps were descended, thankfully, but it was no secret he was down there sometimes for a day or two straight. He would be so engrossed in his projects that time would escape him, but maybe a part of him looked forward to it as you never failed to bring him essentials; food, water, snacks. Then you would stay and chat, he would happily show you what he was working on, the teasing and flirting. It all felt so natural, and those moments meant the world to him.

He just wished that it could be different - more than just what it felt he was receiving from your end. More than he could admit, he loved you. You who had been there with him through so much, putting your life in danger, helped him come to see himself as more than just a means to an end for his revenge. That he could do good, learn to find the good in life, and while the family he once had could never be replaced, he had one now that he could grow with.

Maybe he shouldn't be so greedy, wanting more. Percy had a life with you now, a wonderful one. Why did he deserve more than that? You were not the type to lead someone on, but maybe you were misunderstanding his advances, wanting no strings attached when he wanted all of them, including a chain.

Suddenly the door flew open and in made the way of Vax’ildan with no regard to privacy or personal space, not that it should be much of a surprise. Looking up mid-tinkering, he and Percival made direct eye contact. “I like to think we’re both sensible men, wouldn’t you agree, Whitey?”

Not losing this non-existent battle of dominance by dropping his gaze first, the gunslinger didn’t even move to set his tools down as he answered him. “One of us more than the other.” He would humor him for the moment.

“Considering your current circumstance,” Crossing his arms, the half-elf leaned against the door frame, making himself comfortable. “I’ll take that compliment.”

Expression suspicious, the tools in Percy’s hands were now laid onto the table. “Please, do enlighten me.”

“As if it’s not obvious,” Vax began, motioning with his hands vaguely in the direction of upstairs and then to the human himself. “Even Grog has noticed - Grog!”

“You are one of the last people that should be handing out relationship advice,” the gunslinger verbally jabbed at him. “Considering the outcome of your recent confession.”

“Low,” Vax shot back, but he couldn’t disagree. His confession with Keyleth didn’t exactly go the best. “But completely unrelated since it's not a relationship.” there was a look from Percy, showing how done with his shit he was becoming. “At least I straight-up did it. How long has it been, Percival?”

Not even skipping a beat, he replied, “Two years, twelve weeks and six days,” silence fell over the room, the rogue quirking a brow at him pointedly. Percy sighed, slumping over and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Gods."

“And you really gotta stop with the flowers, man, they’re so cliche’!” Suddenly another voice cut into the conversation from the doorway.

“Flowers are a perfect token of affection and,“ Looking to the new intruder, Percival’s face suddenly scrunched up in distaste. “And-and get out, Scanlan! You’re not even allowed in here.”

The gnome looked confused, glancing between Vax and Percy. “What? Since when did that become a thing?”

“Since there has been a sign on that door from the moment we moved in.”

Scanlan scoffed. “You’re bullshittin’ me.”

“He's not,” Vax defended, pointing a finger at the very large sign clearly stating the names of people who were not allowed, and one of them was indeed Scanlan.

The gnome blinked once, twice, and held up the middle finger. “Well, fuck you too, dude.” The fingers on the hand suddenly snapped, the bard's face lighting up. "That's it!" he said, becoming ecstatic and climbing up onto the large work table as though he was going to be making a public announcement. "That's exactly what you have to do."

Once more, silence came over the room, Percy took a quick sip of water and still managed to comment dryly, "I admit, beyond not caring, you have lost me."

"You bang. You know; dippin' the wick, bumpin' uglies, slappin' beef - "

"O-kay, but," The gunslinger narrowed his eyes, growing increasingly frustrated as they both spoke. "You're suggesting this to the same guy who can't even admit he's in love."

Scanlan nodded, doing short paces on his end of the table. "You're right - not to mention he's probably never even wanked it in his entire life."

"I," burying his face in his hands, Percival wanted to scream, but that well-practiced restraint kept him to only do it internally. "I absolutely hate both of you, I do hope you know that."

"We do," they both responded at the same time, mutually shrugging.

"Have you ever wanked it, though?" a new voice suddenly cut in, entirely too amused. "Sometimes I can't tell 'cause you're always so tense."

Inhaling sharply, about ready to gouge his own goddamn eyes out, his teeth ground. "I'm not about to dignify that with an answer, in fact," he stood up, pointing at the door. "Get out, all you -" he stumbled, looking up and seeing you in the doorway with a smirk on your face, fresh water in one hand and a plate of food in the other. " - you-you, hello, when did you get here?"

Completely ignoring him, you giggled, looking at Scanlan. "That's so cooky, though - wank it."

The gnome wagged his brows at you suggestively. "What about: beat the meat?" Percival felt his excitement die down as you laughed, walking over to set your offerings onto the table.

The gunslinger looked solemnly, longingly through another doorway into the fire of the forge off. You bumping into him lightly with your whole body barely brought him back, only gaining a glance. "Trying to decide if burning alive would be less painful than listening to this?" he didn't even bother to respond, simply narrowing his eyes at you, ever the instigator. The chuckle you gave was almost evil, looking back at the sniggering gnome and rogue. "Alright you two, you heard him. Go on, get out, go beat each others meat instead of trying to beat Percival's while he's working."

"Oh, what, 'cause that's your job?"

"Yeah, it is, now leave, so I suck out whatever's left of his soul." you joked, but the gunslinger couldn't help but feel a rush of heat in his chest as he tried to stave off those taunting images.

Hanging his head, his shoulders slumped and he decided, face entirely too red, that burning alive definitely would be less painful. The door shut and the sound of Vax and Scanlan laughing could be heard as they disappeared up the stairs. "Not to embarrass you any further, but," you began, looking at Percival who reminded you of a dejected kitten. "Is it true?"

Furrowing his brows, his eyes narrowed as well. "Not that it's anyone's business what I do regarding that, but - "

"No, no, not that," The laugh you gave was sweet and airy, and he felt himself relax. "Although it certainly is an interesting topic," you winked, changing the mood in the room to one he felt completely natural in and he smirked. "I mean," you looked down, holding your hands together and playing with your thumb. "That you love me ... " came the small murmur, and you glanced up through your lashes, shyly.

The world around him came tumbling to the ground, looking at you like you were from a different plane of existence as you stood in front of him in a new light. You looked almost hopeful, but his reasonable brain tried to argue it was a biased opinion. The wool over his eyes. "I - " he swallowed, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for, right? So why was he still having trouble saying it? No, you were just asking. You weren't admitting anything to him by a simple question ... but ... "I've been working on this the last couple of days," he began awkwardly, quickly turning away and walking over to his work table, missing the pained look on your face. "It's done, but I was looking to see if there were any finer details I could."

"I-I'm sure it's nice - " you began, keeping a hold on your voice.

"It's for you," he interjected, turning around to face you with the object in his hands; a single flower, beautiful and delicate looking. This was his one shot, and he supposed if he was going to do it, it was going to be in the way he was most comfortable with. Your eyes shined as you began to come closer to him. "Who also gave me the idea, actually," he held it out to you, feeling tight as he moved. "When you said how sad the flowers I had been sending - " your head whipped up, eyes wide. " - made you when they withered."

"My immortal flower," the smile you gave him was a bit watery, but just as beautiful as any other before as you took it, and despite it being heavy, made of metal, it was perfect. "I had been hoping it was you, actually," you confessed, flush coming over your cheeks.

His brow quirked, newfound confidence coming to him, but that didn't stop his heart from thrumming through his ribcage. "I suppose you were right - it was someone incredibly handsome," he teased lightly, carefully.

Reaching out with one hand, you cupped his cheek, and immediately he leaned into it. "Now, now, I didn't say incredibly," you replied, leaning forward onto him as his arms crawled around your waist. "But you're not wrong." With that, after waiting so long, he found that your lips were just as soft as he imagined and you tasted just as sweet, and he relished in every second of it.

Percival de Rolo, a very brave man who endured so much, trembled at the thought of eight letters, three words, one sentence that said everything. But as you pulled back, looking so adoringly at the metal flower held in the space between you, he found that one simple action could say it indefinitely better, and as long as you were satisfied with that, he would work to eventually give you it all.

#percival x reader #percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #percy de rolo #percival de rolo #the legend of vox machina #vox machina x reader #critical role x reader #percival de rolo x reader #percy de rolo x reader #percy x reader #the legend of vox machina x reader #vox machina #critical role

384 notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 4 years

Note

hie!!! just read you're dragon warrior bakugo where he turn into a literal golden dragon, DUDE it was so dark and so poetic I loved it, pleeeaase part two?

I’ve actually had this in the works for some time but didn't think that many were interested hehe, thanks for proving me wrong<3

dragon warrior king ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: trauma, slavery, kidnapping, condescension, anxiety

PART ONE

MUTE AND NUDE - PART TWO

THE KING AND HIS NEW TOY

Floating, flying, dreaming. She felt reality tug at her every now and again, trying to pull her into consciousness, however she was pleasantly drifting with her eyes tightly locked. The smell of mountain daisies in the breeze, she could almost taste the salt of the sea that wafted up there, not entirely sure it was all in her mind. How she wished to see the sea up close once, and not just from afar. To feel the sand between her toes, to laugh nervously at the vastness of it all, all the secrets buried down there, sometimes washing up on the shore like treasure. Her vision trailed the stripe of sand she could spot from her village in the mountains, suddenly imagining herself down there, with a great shadow looming above, the water turning red and thick and boiling before catching fire, she heard screams, cries, the smell of metal and the taste of death, death, death.

She awoke abruptly. Flailing in the air like some knocked lantern. The pixies dodging her kicks and whips, holding onto the gems and paints midair. Currently hand sewing her customized dress, bejeweled with rhinestones and gold, cold smooth brushed lining her skin with art.

They knew the procedure, Bakugo had a new toy, and she were to be dressed accordingly; royally.

The pixies swung around her like bees around their beehive, small squeaky voices simmering about and buzzing in her ears. One caught her eye and her flailing subdued then, as the tiny brown-haired brown-eyed fairy blew sickly-sweet dust into her face, nerves somehow forcefully brought to their knees. “I’m sorry.” It seemed to her that the utterance had multiple meanings, as the look on the fairy’s face contorted into one of deep sorrow, as though in mourning for the unfortunate soul that had fallen into Bakugo’s greedy attention.

Not much dawned on poor girl after that, and if it did, she didn't seem to mind the foreign things happening around her. How she was fussed around with, spoiled even, with flowers and gems and fabrics, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Fitted to perfection and adorned with a small tiara made up of flowers, poppies if she were to guess with the limited knowledge she had through books, as the harsh environment of the mountain doesn't allow for such frail things to grow.

Her doe eyes; softly fluttering every now and again, barely even feeling it, when her feet hit the ground, still bare. Perhaps she didn’t even realize they belonged to her, seeing how they were robbed of their red mud and clay. More and more, steadily coming back to her senses, she remained calm under the pressure of her strange surroundings. Creatures she’d never known existed, colors she hadn’t ever laid eyes on, perfumes that stung her nose in a pioneering act. She remembered death, she remembered fire, and the burning cold of sharp, deadly eyes. She feared that it was those same red eyes she was being prepared for.

Her mouth remained shut. Her silence casting a confusing spell onto the guards, however unaffected the busy pixies swirling about her in a working frenzy. The sounding of a horn didn’t shake her either, however seemed to dismiss the ones nitpicking at her ensemble, as well as signal the guards.

They didn't touch her, but their eyes did well in escorting her to the havoc outside. She didn't see much except for fire and shadow. Yet, mismatched tones of gold seemed to unsettle her even more than the different shades of red.

She was guided to his side, gestured to sit down on the throne next to his. She didn't faze too much upon her surroundings, managing to keep somewhat of a respectable composure, even as girls and boys from her village caught her eye. They hadn’t murdered everyone it seemed, not the pretty ones at least. They were putting on a show, inexperienced in the art of dance, but no less amusing to the hooded ravagers, she guessed.

She held her tongue and assumed an aura of harmony, therefore not accepting anything given to her. Drink, food, trinkets, they were swarming her as if she were some shrine. She supposed she, more or less, was just that, which was more than what she had been before, but somehow less at the same time.

The nerves trembled beneath her skin, as she did her best to calm her frightened state. She searched the spread sprawled out before her, wanting to accommodate to the new scenery. However, it proved to be quite difficult, as she felt the intense stare of the boy on her right, his eyes singeing and freezing her all at once. Having not dared look to him yet, the pressure of meeting those eyes of his, too much of a scare.

Sharp jewels stuck into her skin, and although she was used to gravel, they still managed to achieve her discomfort. “Not enjoying yourself?”

She cleaned up nicely. He could see her complexion clearly now, soft and smooth glowing skin between what raked scratched and gashes marred it. He wanted to pull Kirishima’s teeth out as punishment for biting her arm so ruthlessly, but knew that would be foolish as neither of them could have known of her importance. It could very well have been him who had printed his fangs into her, yet it would more likely have fallen off then.

It took her longer than she’d like to admit before she understood the question was meant for her, and although she could speak, the thought of answering seemed so far out of reach. She didn’t know how he would want to be acknowledged either. What do you say to a King who massacres entire civilizations? What do you even call such a person? The title tyrant came to mind, but it seemed distasteful.

Even if her hesitance angered him, he didn’t let his temper prove it. And when her eyes flickered ever so slightly in his direction, his annoyance more or less faded away; replaced. “You’re thinking of what time will be the best to escape, aren’t you?”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose at once when she heard his voice again, realizing the moment to answer his previous question had passed, and how he, this time, was accusing her not of ingratitude, but of deserting.

“Wondering where you will go, where you even are?” She could spot the eerie smile from the corner of her eye. At least his teeth were wiped clean of gore this time, yet… they still managed to make her ears shift in discomfort. “Hmm...” He scoffed, then chuckled a laugh that somehow sounded like thunder, like barking. “Let me help you.”

He shifted in his seat, leaning in closer to her. His fingers grazing her forearm, causing her to lightly gasp. Claws ever so slightly digging into her skin.

“You could make a run for it through the foliage of the trees.” She felt the earnest, wanton pressure in his touch, furrowing her brows in both confusion upon his words and in a plead for mercy. “But I should warn you... the forest is much denser and darker and deadlier here, than it is in the mountain.” His voice; so very casual in its threats, the voice of a King. “Even if I felt so generous as to give you a head start, we would probably catch you before the night let up. It wouldn't be much a game for me, but you are welcome to give it a try if you want.” He was taunting, haughty, stroking her arm... almost lovingly. “Besides, any attempt at running in that dress will be a show.” His hot breaths hit the side of her neck in waves, as she felt the still foreign need to say something linger on her tongue, but she swallowed it. “What’s your name?” This was a question she needed to answer, yet… it was also the one question she had no answer to.

“I-”

That was the first time she’d ever spoken. Sure, she’d sung for him… but that wasn’t her, that was… something else… something inside her, her but not her at all at the same time.

She didn’t quite know the words, know them as in being comfortable with them. She’d heard them, she knew what they were supposed to sound like, but… they still seemed so foreign on her tongue as she rolled them around in her mouth, teeth grinding together.

To his surprise, to his complete shock, she turned her head to look at him, face wiped clean of… well… blood, and alongside what panic displayed on her features there was also a look of something he couldn’t quite place, but almost as though she was asking for his help, or his patience as she pieced together the words. He nearly gasped as she placed her small hand over the calloused knuckles of his where he was digging his fingers into her arm, the action so parallel to his intentions, looking up again to be met with her soft eyes as she spoke with even softer words. “I- I ha-ave no na-ame…” She looked awkward, as though she’d bitten her tongue and was preoccupied with the metallic taste of her own blood, looking at him, eyes asking if she were at all understandable.

“Right… no point in giving a mute a name.” His tone was brisk, without anger and it helped with establishing confidence in her as it also aided in answering her question if she was understood or not.

“Wh-” She started, this time seemingly a smidge more confident in her determination. “What do I call you?”

He would be lying if he said it didn't take him aback. And he wasn't one for telling lies.“You’re not like the others.” He announced, small quirk playing on his lips. “Katsuki.”

She was unsure whether she should give it a try or not, trying to mouth it under her breath so he not hear her. “Ka- katsu- ki.”

He gave a sound of acknowledgement, a grunt of some sorts, an eyebrow raised in suspicion at her, watching as her gaze shifted onto the ongoing festivities before the two of them, her chin slightly raising, eyes flittering to perceive things he was sure was for the first time. Her hand remained on his, velvet against sandpaper, as though she found comfort in it, a safety of some sort. He enjoyed the gesture as well as that thought; sinisterly so. Her chastity so desperate in need of corruption, in his eyes.

He made to stand, bored of the display before him. This girl posed more entertainment than anything the circus could give him. “The air is thinner in the mountains…”

He reached out a hand, gesturing for her to take it. Reluctantly, or rather anxiously, she agreed, wondering what purpose hid in his words.

“The change of climate will be overwhelming for you.”

Slightly provoked by his words of condescension, she made to stand her ground, but felt an overbearing weight nest in her mind.

“You’ll get migraines.”

She looked confused now, staring at him, a crinkle between her brows.

“Your body isn’t accumulated to this environment yet.”

Her mouth suddenly felt dry, as she stumbled slightly. He locked her arm with his, helping her down from the podium.

“The effects will come soon. Blood pooling in your feet, weighing you down and dragging you to the ground, blood leaving your head, nausea and unbalance.”

He didn’t seem all that effected by what he was saying. Not exactly nonchalant, but amused.

“Could be you can’t even walk!” He grinned, chuckling when she whimpered, almost falling to her knees. “Your muscles, bones even, not strong enough to carry your own weight.”

Wincing as he pulled her to a carriage. She couldn’t remember if it were the same one she woke up it. But, something about the atmosphere told her it wasn’t, something about the invasive smell of burnt sugar.

“You’ll feel the ache in your limbs soon, gravity isn’t generous.”

Before she knew it, she was placed in a bed, his hand stroking her cold forehead.

“Especially when you’ve hardly ever felt the full might of its power.” He sounded sympathetic, and in her state she couldn’t tell if it were sincere or not. His hand traveled down her cheek, stroking a thumb over her lips. “There were more things I wanted to establish, but I underestimated the toll the descent would have on your health.” Scarred fingers stroked down her throat. “You’ll have to survive the sick before anything.” Tracing her collarbones. “If you’re strong, the fever will pass before we reach our destination.” Down her chest, as though holding back in savory, where if her eyes were able to focus she’d see him lick his lips. “But... the up and coming days will probably be hell for you.”

She didn’t feel much of anything after that, except for the foreign warmth accompanying her in her slumber, two large arms tightly locked around her midriff.

#yandere bakugou #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsukibakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki #katsuki bnha #Katsuki Bakugō

617 notes · View notes

sketching-shark · 3 years

Note

I think it's the ironic fact that JTTW fans already know how DBK and Sun Wukong's friendship broke apart but are more curious on LMK versions of Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque were friends alongside falling out.

HA! Well, while it often does seem that way, I'm going to go ahead and be a complete snob in a Journey to the West purist kind of way by wondering how many Six Eared Macaque fans would consider themselves more JTTW fans or more Monkie Kid fans, or if they feel they're a mix of both...

I've seen a lot of people argue that these two works of fiction are their own thing and that as such Monkie Kid (and associated fanworks) shouldn't be expected to follow the canon of JTTW, and fair enough for some parts. I've also, however, seen people who argue for this complete separation seeming to use it as an excuse to not acknowledge or learn about ANY original aspects of characters such as Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King, or even very important deities such as Guanyin and the Jade Emperor, and who as such end up making some pretty gross generalizations/assumptions about them even though they are of great religious and cultural importance.

For example (and while I know a lot of the fun people get from fan works is in exaggerating certain traits), Sun Wukong seems to often be presented with an "inherently" evil/thoughtless/chaotic character, while his intelligence, deep love of his family, genuine efforts to become a better person, & many acts of saving lives, as presented in JTTW, aren't even mentioned. I feel like a lot of this is due to the way he acts in Monkie Kid (while I maintain that this version of Sun Wukong seems to be Bad End Monkey King, he does do a lot of deflecting his issues with a show of humor/a carefree attitude & does seem really bad at communicating due to a fear of making things worse). Even so, the popularity of Thoughtless/Evil/Selfish Sun Wukong that doesn’t really allow for any of the nuance or a display of his beneficial traits as shown in JTTW does make me wonder how many people have been exposed to a good translation of og classic Sun Wukong...As I've said before, I've noted that a number of Chinese people on this site have expressed frustration with the fact that a good chunk of the monkey king’s Western audience seems to be getting their impressions about Sun Wukong, the Demon Bull King, the Six Eared Macaque, etc. from some mix of Overly Sarcastic Productions, Monkie Kid, and social media instead of from at least a translation of the original text, and it is true that a LOT of the nuance of these work and these characters can be very easily lost, especially if your drawing your information of them primarily from a cartoony version of the original source.

That would be an interesting poll though...out of curiosity, how many of you fine folk have read the break-up & fight between Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King either in the original text or in a translation, or is your exposure to them primarily through Monkie Kid?

Again, I need to make it clear that I'm not Chinese & didn't grow up with the story, but I will admit for my own part that reading the DBK/SWK break-up in the Yu translation actually made me more curious about how their dynamic is going to play out in Monkie Kid than I am curious about what's going to happen with Mr. Macaque.

This is primarily because besides SWK’s fight with Princess Iron Fan and DBK being given a LOT of page space in JTTW, there seems to have been some serious stuff that went down between the three of them in the events post-JTTW and pre-the main plot of Monkie Kid...the last we see of DBK in JTTW (if memory serves correctly) was him being hauled off by a host of heavenly warriors to be judged for his crimes of not giving SWK the palm leaf fan & also eating humans. When Monkie Kid starts, however, we are told that DBK had emerged “from the Netherworld” & immediately starts wrecking everything around him. What this suggests--if Monkie Kid is something of a fan continuation of JTTW--is that DBK ended up being executed by the heavenly forces, but managed to fight his way out of the underworld in a manner somewhat similar to SWK, who we are told he is equal in strength to in JTTW. In that beginning fight of Monkie Kid DBK is also shown as so enraged that he won’t stop his path of destruction until SWK buries him under a mountain for 500 years. It’s never said in the show, but--and this is important--this is basically exactly what Buddha did to SWK to start him on the path of atonement. So there seems to be some very intentional parallels between SWK’s havoc in heaven & DBK’s havoc on earth, which may suggest that one of the things Monkie Kid SWK really wants is for his former dear friend, his sworn brother, to find a way like him to be less violent and thus ultimately less vulnerable to destructive and self-destructive behavior, and that the way he tried to start this was by giving DBK the same treatment he got when he was a raging warlord.

We are furthermore told that it was right after DBK was sealed that SWK disappeared for all those centuries, and while the impulse may be to write it off as him just wanting to enjoy himself (given a lot of his behavior in the show’s timeline), given the indications that this SWK may be deeply depressed, I feel like the answer could be something a lot more tragic...there seem to be a number of clues in Monkie Kid that while the journey of JTTW happened, something made it end disastrously, with SWK either assuming or knowing that Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, Tang Sanzang, and Bai Longma are dead. And per JTTW, this wouldn’t be the first time that he’s experienced a horrific loss, given the war with heaven and the burning of Flower-Fruit Mountain. And then right after THAT, it seems DBK emerged from the underworld, and so Sun Wukong was put into a horrific position: either murder his sworn brother, or let him continue to rampage & harm and/or kill who knows how many humans. SWK ultimately gives up his staff to do the repeat of “500 years under a mountain in solitary confinement route,” which as per JTTW he considers better than the alternative, but he immediately follows that by exiling himself. In JTTW SWK is a really sociable person who makes friends wherever he goes, but man, for this SWK...his life must at that point just feel like one failure after another, that in spite of all his best efforts he wasn’t able to save anyone he really cared about, and now he just trapped someone who was so important to him under a mountain & fated him to suffer the same things he had when he was in that position. How much more does he have to hurt his fellow yaoguai? How many more times does he have to choose between yaoguai and humans, feeling like no matter what he decides it’s just going to result in pain for him and/or his loved ones? I can easily imagine super sociable & easily upset (he cries a LOT in JTTW) SWK feeling like after sealing DBK, he just can’t do this any more. He just...can’t.

This is all just speculation, but knowing the JTTW backstory between SWK and DBK does, at least for me, make their Monkie Kid relationship a lot more intriguing than it might be otherwise. Especially now that DBK seems to actually be making some small steps to quell his constant rage & lust for power. He even saves SWK and Qi Xiaotian from an explosion/nasty fall in the season 2 special! The Bull family weren’t really present in season 2, but I really hope they make a comeback in season 3 (if/when we get it) precisely because Red Son, Princess Iron Fan, and especially DBK have such an involved history with SWK. Plus it would be really fun to see two old warlords trying to awkwardly make amends with each other & struggle to be good teachers & positive role models to their student & son.

In any case I feel this potential is more interesting than whatever fanfic The Six Eared “I’mma Plagiarize The Demon Bull King’s Backstory Of Being Best Friends with Sun Wukong” Macaque is creating lol.

#monkie kid #journey to the west #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk dbk #lmk six eared macaque #anon answered

107 notes · View notes

translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 6

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - This Venerable One's Shizun

Xue Meng had lived on Life-Death Peak since he was a child. He was familiar with shortcuts and terrain so he had no problem catching up with Mo Ran

He escorted him all the way to the back of the mountain. The back mountain of Life-Death Peak was the closest place to the ghost realm in the whole world, separated by an enchantment, behind it is the netherworld.

Looking at the miserable situation in the back mountain, Mo Ran immediately understood why that person was clearly at home, but still needed Madam Wang to treat guests in the front hall.

It wasn't that the man didn’t want to help, but he couldn’t step away--

The barrier of the ghost world was broken.

At this moment, the entire back mountain was filled with a heavy spiritual resentment. The ghosts that hadn't taken on a body howled and hovered bitterly in the air. At the entrance of the mountain gate, there was a giant breach ripping through the sky. Behind the breach was the ghost realm, and a tall, bluestone staircase stretching thousand of steps escaped from the barrier cracks. Seeing out from the staircase, the fierce spirits that had regained a flesh body were climbing down this step disorderly and chaotically, rushing from the underworld to the human world.

Any ordinary person would be terrified at the scene unfolding. The first time Mo Ran saw it, he was shocked to the bone, but he was used to it now.

The barrier between the human and ghost realms was set by Emperor Fuxi in ancient times. Today, it was very weak. It would grow weak spots every now and again, which need to be repaired by immortal cultivators. However, this kind of thing not only does little to improve one's cultivation but is thankless with how much spiritual energy it consumes. It was a real drudgery, so few immortals in the upper cultivation world were willing to take this job.

When a fierce spirit was born, the people of the Lower Cultivation Realm were the first to come under attack. As the protectors of the Lower Cultivation Realm, Life-Death Peak was forced to undertake the task of repairing the barrier. The back mountains of the sect faced the weakest point in the barrier all to ensure they could be repaired swiftly.

There would be breaks in the barrier about four or five times a year. It was just like an old, chipped pot; useless.

Now, at the entrance of the ghost world, on the long bluestone stairs, a man stood there with snow-coloured clothes and wide sleeves flowing in the wind. He was surrounded by the aura of his sword, the golden light shimmering. Using his own power to clear out the evil spirits and ghosts, he repaired the small holes appearing in the barrier.

The man had a slender waist and an elegant appearance, with a holy aura and a handsome face. From a distance, it was easy to imagine he was a scholar reading an ancient scroll under a flowering tree. However, looking closely, he had sharp eyebrows, phoenix eyes slanted upwards, and the bridge of his nose was straight and narrow. While he seemed to be gentle and elegant, his eyes were mean and seemingly unkind.

Mo Ran glanced at him from a distance. Although he thought he had prepared himself, when he saw this man appear in front of him alive and healthy again, it made him tremble down to his smallest bones.

Half fear, half. . . excitement.

His Shizun.

Chu Wanning.

This was the person that Xue Meng had cried and begged to see when he arrived at Wushan Hall in the previous life.

It was this man that ruined Mo Ran's ambition, ruined his plans, and was finally imprisoned and tortured to death by Mo Ran because of it.

Logically speaking, if Mo Ran had the chance to avenge himself and defeat the enemy that had blocked his progress.

The sea is wide and free for fish to swim in, the sky is high and the birds could fly endlessly, no one could reign him back anymore. At least, that's what Mo Ran thought.

However, that doesn't seem to be the case.

After his Shizun died, something else seemed to have been buried along with his hatred.

Mo Ran was not a man of culture and didn't recognize any other feeling than being evenly matched with a worthy opponent.

He only knows that here on out, he had no archenemies.

When Shizun was alive, he had been afraid, paranoid, and anxious. When he saw the willow vine in Shizun's hand, the hair on the back of his neck stood on up. He became just like a beaten mutt, just the sound of a wooden club slap caused his teeth to ache and legs to give out. Even his calf muscles would spasm from fear.

Later, when Shizun died, the person Mo Ran had feared the most was finally gone. Mo Ran felt that he had grown and matured, being able to finally commit this act of murdering his teacher.

Afterwards, when looking at the mortal realm, no one dared force him to kneel down, and no longer slapped himself in the face.

To celebrate, he opened the pear blossom white wine, sat on the roof, and drank wine all night.

That night, under the influence of alcohol, the scars that Shizun had inflicted on his back when he was a teenager seemed to feel hot and painful again.

At this moment, when he saw Shizun reappear in front of him, Mo Ran started, filled with hate and anger, but there was also a slight twinge of ecstasy.

Such an opponent, lost and now regained, how can he not please?

Chu Wanning ignored the two apprentices who broke into the back mountains and continued concentrating on fighting the scattered undead.

His facial features were elegant, his eyebrows are evenly long. His phoenix eyes were cast downwards, his cool demeanour powerful. Amidst the demonic air and blood rain, his expression had not changed. His face remained calm, as though he might sit down and burn incense or play the guqin at the moment.

However, such a gentle and beautiful man, at that moment, was holding an icy exorcism long sword dripping with red blood droplets. With a flick of his wide sleeve, the sword's energy sliced through the bluestone steps in an explosion. Crushed stones and bricks rolled down, cracking an immeasurable chasm from the gate all the way to the bottom of the mountain, splitting the staircase and its thousands of steps!

So ferocious.

How many years had it been since he had seen his Shizun's power?

This familiar and powerful dominance made Mo Ran lose all his strength. Shakily, he fell onto his knees with a thump.

It didn't take long for Chu Wanning to kill all the ghosts, and neatly fill in the holes in the barrier to the ghost world. After doing all this, he fell from mid-air and went over to Mo Ran and Xue Meng.

He first glanced at Mo Ran kneeling on the ground, and then raised his eyes to look at Xue Meng, his phoenix eyes holding a powerful chill.

"Causing trouble again?"

Mo Ran sucked in a breath.

Shizun had the ability to always correctly assume any situation.

Xue Meng: "Shizun, Mo Ran went down the mountain, committing the two crimes of stealing and prostitution. Please punish him accordingly, Shizun."

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, expressionless. He coldly remarked: "I know."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Xue Meng: ". . ."

Both of them were a little confused. Then? Is that it?

However, just when Mo Ran thought tat he had gotten off lucky, he looked up at Chu Wanning and caught a a glimpse of a sharp golden light suddenly cutting through the air. There was a lightening-like crackling sound that slashed across Mo Ran's cheek!!

Drops of blood splashed everywhere!

The speed of that golden light was so fast, Mo Ran didn't even have a moment to close his eyes, let alone dodge it. The skin on his face was flayed open with a fierce pain.

Chu Wanning stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing coldly in the chilling breeze of teh night air. The air was still filled with the foul aura of fierce spirits and ghosts mixed with the smell of human blood. It made the forbidden area of the back mountains appear even more eerie and terrifying.

In Chu Wanning's hand was a willow vine that had whipped Mo Ran. The vine was narrow and long, with green leaves sprouting from it, hanging down near the edge of his boots.

It was clearly sucha graceful object. Looking at it would have made people think of poems such as "Pliant is the the willow branch I gift to my beloved".

It's a pity that Chu Wanning was neither pliant or had a beloved.

The willow vine in his hand was actually a magic weapon named Tianwen. At this moment, Tianwen was glimmering with golden red light, piercing through the surrounding darkness, and also reflecting in the bottomless depths of Chu Wanning's eyes.

Chu Wanning pursed his lips, and said sensibly: "Mo Weiyu, you are so bold. Should I really not do something to discipline you?"

If this really was the fifteen-year old Mo Ran, he might not have taken this exclamation seriously, thinking that Shizun was just trying to scare him.

But after being reborn, Mo Weiyu had thoroughly experienced Shizun’s "control" with his blood in his previous life. He immediately felt the roots of his teeth ache and blood rushing to his head. His mouth was already moving, ready to deny everything and clear his name

"Shizun. . ." His cheek still bleeding, Mo Ran raised his eyes, staining them with a thin veil of tears. He knew that his current appearance must look extremely pitiful. "This disciple has never stolen. . . has never laid with a prostitute. . . why did Shizun listen to Xue Meng's words and strike me without even listening to my side of the story?"

". . ."

Mo Ran had two tricks to get out of trouble with his uncle. First, act cute. Second, pretend to be pitiful. Now he tried these out on Chu Wanning, trying to look so pitiful that tears almost fell from his eyes: "Is the disciple really so worthless in your eyes? Why doesn't Shizun even give me a chance to defend myself?"

Xue Meng stomped angrily next to him: "Mo Ran! You, you piece of shit! You truly are shameless! Sizun, don't listen to him, don't be fooled by this bastard! He really did steal! All the stolen goods are still on him!"

Chu Wanning looked through his eyelashes, his expression cold: "Mo Ran, you truly never stole?"

"Never."

". . . You should know the consequences of lying to me."

Mo Ran's arms were covered in goosebumps. How could he not know? But he still foolishly persisted: "Shizun, please!"

Chu Wanning raised his hand, and the shiny golden vine waved again, but this time he did not draw it on the face of Mo Ran. Instead, he used it to tightly bind Mo Ran.

This feeling was all too familiar. In addition to whipping people on the regular, the willow vine "Tianwen" has another function——

Chu Wanning stared at Mo Ran, who was held tightly in Tianwen's grasp, and asked again: "Have you never stolen?"

Suddenly, there was a familiar stabbing pain straight in Mo Ran's heart, as if a sharp fanged small snake had slid its way into his chest and was playing with his organs.

Accompanied by the severe pain was an irresistible temptation. Mo Ran couldn't help but open his mouth, his voice hoarse: "I. . . never. . . ah. . . !!!"

Tianwen's golden light seemed to pick up on his lies, glowing harder. The pain caused Mo Ran to break out in a cold sweat, but he still desperately resisted such torture.

This was Tianwen's second function: interrogation.

Once tied up by Tianwen, no one could lie. Whether it was a person or a ghost, dead or alive, Tianwen had a way of forcing them to speak and reveal the answer that Chu Wanning wanted to know.

In his last life, by relying on a strong cultivation base, there was only one person who had finally managed to keep a secret under Tianwen's influence.

That person was the person who had become the emperor of the mortal realm, Mo Weiyu.

After being reborn, Mo Ran had hoped he'd have a bit of luck, thinking that he would still be able to resist the forced interrogation of Tianwen. But after biting his lip for what felt like forever, with big beads of sweat dripping down over his dark eyebrows and full-body trembles, he finally bowed before Chu Wanning's boots in pain, gasping for breath.

"I. . . I. . . stole. . ."

The pain abruptly disappeared.

Mo Ran hadn't even caught his breath before Chu Wanning asked another question, his voice even colder than before.

"Did you commit debauchery?"

Smart people don't do stupid things. Since he hadn't been able to resist before, it was even more impossible now. This time, Mo Ran didn't even resist, and when the pain struck, he went so far to even shout: "Yes yes I did!!!! Shizun please! No more!"

Xue Meng's face turned blue at his side. He exclaimed with shock: "You, how can you. . . That Rong Jiu is a man, you actually. . ."

No one paid attention to him. As the golden light of Tianwen slowly dimmed, Mo Ran gasped for breath, his whole body was drenched as if he had just been fished from the water. His face was as white as paper, his lips still trembling, and he collapsed on the ground, unable to move.

Through sweaty eyelashes, he looked up at Chu Wanning's elegant figure, wearing a green jade crown and wide sleeves that fell to the floor.

A strong hatred suddenly surged into his heart - Chu Wanning! This Venerable One wasn't wrong in is treatment of you in his past life, that much is true!! Even after being reborn, the hatred still burns strong! Fuck all eighteen generations of your ancestors!!

Chu Wanning didn't know that this crafty disciple was going to fuck all eighteen generations of his ancestors. He stood there for a while with a sullen expression, and then said.

"Xue Meng."

Although Xue Meng knows that men were the popular choice among rich businessmen and wealthy households, and many people play with male prostitutes just for something new and not really because they liked men, he still couldn't digest it. After a while, he said: "Shizun, this disciple is here."

"Mo Ran went against the three mandates on corruption, debauchery, and deception. Take him to the Yan Luo Hall so he can repent. Bring him to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil tomorrow morning so that he receive a public punishment."

Xue Meng was startled: "What. . .? Public punishment?"

Public punishment means taking the disciples who have committed severe transgressions in front of the disciples of the whole school, in front of everyone, even the ladies in the dining hall, and punishing them for the crowd.

Utterly shameful.

It should be known that Mo Ran was a disciple of Life-Death Peak. Although the disciplinary measures in the school were strict, because of Mo Ran's special status - his uncle pitied him for losing his parents so young and was scavenging outside for fourteen years - he couldn't bear to punish Mo Ran. No matter what Mo Ran did, he would just get a small lecture in private, and he would be beaten.

But Shizun wouldn't even save the face of the sect leader. He wanted to take his precious nephew to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil and publicly punish and shame Young Master Mo in front of the entire sect. This was something even Xue Meng hadn't expected.

Mo Ran, however, wasn't surprised.

He lay on the ground with a sneer at the corner of his mouth.

How great and selfless his Shizun was.

Chu Wanning was truly cold-blooded. In his previous life, when Shi Mei died in front of him, Mo Ran cried and pleading, pulling on his clothes, kneeling on the ground and begging him for help.

But Chu Wanning turned a deaf ear.

And so his disciple had breathed his last breath before him, and even with Mo Ran crying his heart out next to him, Chu Wanning simply stood there and ignored his sobs.

Now all he was doing was putting him on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to be dealt with before the public. There was nothing strange about this.

Mo Ran could only resent how weak his cultivation base was now. He couldn't peel off Chu Wanning's skin, rip out his nerves, drink his blood, can’t pull his hair back, can't insult him, can’t torture him and destroy his dignity, make him desire nothing but death. . .

He hadn't been able to hide the beast-like hatred in his eyes, and Chu Wanning picked up on it.

He faintly glanced at Mo Ran's face, a stoic expression on a gentle and elegant face.

"What are you thinking about?"

Fuck!

Tianwen hadn't been removed yet!

Mo Ran once again felt the vines tying him up, and his internal organs felt like they were about to be squeezed into mush. He yelled in pain, panting and roaring out the thoughts in his head——

"Chu Wanning, you think you're so refined! Watch me fuck you to death!"

No one made a sound.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Even Xue Meng was stunned: ". . ."

Tianwen suddenly retracted Chu Wanning's palm, turning into a small speck of golden light before disappearing altogether. Tianwen was made from the bones and blood of Chu Wanning and could appear when summoned and vanished at will.

Xue Meng's face was pale and he stuttered: "Shi-Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning didn't say a word. His delicate black and slender eyelashes lowered, examining his palms for a while. Then, he raised his eyes, his face even, but his complexion even colder. He glared at Mo Ran with a gaze saying "this disciple deserves death", then said in a low voice:

"Tianwen is broken, I am going to go fix it."

Chu Wanning threw down these words, turned and left.

Xue Meng was kind of slow: "How could an immortal weapon like Tianwen be broken?"

Chu Wanning heard it, and glanced back at him with a look of "this disciple deserves death" as well. Xue Meng shuddered.

Mo Ran lay on the ground, half-dead, with a blank expression.

What he had been thinking really was looking for a way to fuck Chu Wanning to death. He knew that the Master Chu, who held titles like "Yuheng of the Night Sky, Beidou Immortal", had always paid attention to elegance and correctness, and he couldn't stand being stepped on by others, defiling him.

But he didn't want Chu Wanning to know that he was thinking that!

Mo Ran whimpered like a stray dog, covering his face.

Thinking of the look in Chu Wanning's eyes when he was leaving, he felt that he probably did not have long to wait until his death.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the husky and his white cat shizun #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #2ha #2ha translation #2ha novel #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #mo ran #chu wanning #yaoi novel

221 notes · View notes

samstree · 3 years

Note

for the drabble thing: “you weren’t there”

maybe post mountain geraskier? i’m in an angsty mood rn but whatever you wanna write will be good :)

Creatures of the Night (2)

It's the night of Jaskier and Valdo's wedding. Geralt needs to do something.

(endgame geraskier, background valdo/jaskier, angst, infidelity)

Previous | AO3

The Oxenfurt Observatory might just be the grandest building in Redania.

The great hall is decorated with countless flowers and candles, giving the ancient walls a soft glow. Through the tall glass ceiling, stars are shining in the clear night sky, the perfect weather for a wedding.

It must be Jaskier’s idea, to be handfasted at midnight, to have his guests slow-dance under the moon and the stars until dawn breaks. Their new life will begin when the candles burn out and the first ray of light spills into the room.

If only there’s a competition for the biggest romantic on the continent. Jaskier could win without breaking a sweat.

The room is being filled up with guests—mostly bards and professors, old schoolmates of the two grooms. After all, both Valdo and Jaskier are Oxenfurt’s children, which means everyone is dressed in the most colorful clothes one could imagine. In another word, the room is being filled up with Jaskiers, and it’s getting loud.

It’s more difficult to locate the bard himself through the din of the room, but Geralt hears him, unmistakably. Jaskier’s heartbeat approaches the Observatory, thrumming with nervousness.

No more nervous than Geralt.

He breathes in, and exits the room in a few strides. And there Jaskier is, surrounded by pale moonlight, with jasmine flowers braided into his hair and pure joy painted across his cheeks. He seems to be murmuring a private joke to Essi, and they both burst into strings of giggles.

Geralt almost backs out.

“Geralt!” Jaskier notices him. “You came! I was worried for a moment.”

“Of course.” Geralt gestures to the outfit he helped pick out. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. Now, Poppet, can you give us a few moments?” Jaskier sends Essi inside with the sweetest smile. She shoulders past Geralt a little too curtly. There’s always an air of wariness whenever Essi regards Geralt, an untrusting side-eye here and there.

“Don’t mind her.” Jaskier waves when they are left alone. “Little Eye is a tad too protective. She’ll get over it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt swallows hard. “Can we find somewhere more private? I want to talk to you.”

Jaskier blinks, but leads them away anyway until they are by the side of the road, the celebrating crowd and the orange glow of candlelight in the distance.

“Here to make sure I end up someone else’s problem, aren’t you? Don’t worry, in about half an hour, I will be legally required to only bother Valdo for the rest of eternity.” Jaskier nudges Geralt in the shoulder, a jasmine slipping by his ear.

Geralt rights it without thinking, his fingers trembling.

Gods, he can’t say it. He can’t. Jaskier is so happy and Geralt will only ruin their friendship. His second chance is too precious to be risked—

“No, actually,” Geralt heaves out a breath, his heart pounding. “The opposite."

Jaskier snorts, “And, my dear witcher, what is the opposite?”

Here it goes.

“I am in love with you.”

The words sink into the silence. Geralt’s world narrows down to the steady rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest and the little hitch in his breathing. In the darkness of the night, Jaskier’s eyes stay in the shadows, his emotions obscured.

“No, you are not.” When he finally answers, it comes out in a snort. “Ha! A good one, Geralt! And they say witchers don’t have a sense of humor, idiots!”

Jaskier lets out another dry laugh, although the waver in his voice betrays everything.

“I am,” Geralt stresses again, “in love with you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier is staring, the upturn of his lips freezing into shock, the rise and fall of his chest picking up into a frenzy and suddenly he’s breathing too fast. “You can’t. You just can’t…” Air seems to trap in his lungs and a salty tang of tears hits Geralt full-force.

“I wish I couldn’t love, like what they say, but Jaskier, I can and I do—”

“You can’t do this to me!” Jaskier shouts, crying openly. “No, no! You don’t get to tell me this now! We had twenty years…”

Geralt wants more than anything in the world to pull Jaskier into his arms and wipe away the tears, but the space between them is too great. “I didn’t know for twenty years, Jask. Forgive me. It was only after the mountain that I learned how important you were to me. I couldn’t go on like this—”

“The mountain?” Jaskier chokes out a whimper. “You realized after the mountain? You mean when I bared my heart to you and you stomped on it like it was nothing?”

Geralt shakes his head, the guilt constricting his chest. “I’m sorry. For all the pain I caused you.”

“For months I thought I was but a mistake to you, that you hated me for two decades and couldn’t wait to cast me aside like dirt stuck on your shoes. Do you even know… Geralt, do you have an ounce of idea what I went through?”

Jaskier sways and Geralt catches him in his arms, placing his head on his shoulders and feeling the uncontrollable shakes running down Jaskier’s spine. The sight of Jaskier hurt because of him, again, pains Geralt more than any monster’s claws or talons.

“I love you, Jaskier,” he vows. “You were never nothing to me. You are everything. I was an idiot. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier struggles and swats at his shoulders and Geralt takes it all the while murmuring more sweet nothings into his ear. Finally, when Jaskier calms down, it’s with another whimper. “You are an idiot.”

“I am.” Geralt cradles the nape of Jaskier’s neck, running his thumb in circles, soothing the last of the trembling away. “Just one word from you, Jask, I can take you away. You don’t have to marry him. Just give me the word and I’m yours. Gods, I’ve waited for so long for this day. At last, I’m sure of my heart, just as I’m sure of yours.”

He buries into Jaskier’s hair and inhales the grief and the flowers, and something that is distinctly Jaskier, expecting a whispered plea. Just one word from Jaskier and they can start their new life together.

What he doesn’t expect is the way Jaskier goes stiff in his arms and the hand that pushes him away.

The soft moonlight catches a glint in Jaskier’s eyes, and it speaks of determination. “Valdo,” he says, as if in a dream.

“You don’t have to marry him. We can lea—”

“Valdo will be here soon.” Jaskier sniffles and wipes at his tears frantically. His whole face is puffy from crying and there’s no way he can hide it. “It’s almost midnight.”

Geralt’s world comes to a stop.

“What?”

“Get inside, and don’t say anything about this.”

“I don’t understand. Jask, you don’t need to go through this anymore. I’ll give you anything you ask. Just say the words, please,” he begs for the first time in a century, catching Jaskier’s hand.

“I am saying it. Get inside. Sit in the back row and don’t speak to me. Valdo might be able to tell.” With a few deep breaths, Jaskier school his features back to neutral. “Only the gods know how he can read me like an open book.”

Geralt’s blood runs cold. “Do you love him?”

The anguish by the corner of Jaskier’s lips says everything. It remains as he smiles a crooked smile. “He loves me. Oh, Geralt, he loves me. I can’t hurt him like this.”

“I thought,” Geralt looks down in shame. “I thought I knew your heart.”

“I thought I did too.”

“Then why?”

“You weren’t there,” Jaskier shrugs like it’s the easiest explanation. “He was.”

Despite every cell in Geralt’s body screaming against it, he nods and lets go of Jaskier’s hand, allowing his limp fingers to slip from his grasp at last.

Jaskier has asked it of him after all.

He doesn’t know how he got back into the crowd, the warm light only a blur in his vision. Another group is stopping near the hall, among them is the other groom-to-be. Valdo’s worried voice when he sees Jaskier is another blow to Geralt’s chest.

“Oh, Julian, are you crying?”

“Just…too happy.”

There’s the sound of kissing, and Geralt can’t tune it out. He laughs at himself for the masochistic tendencies, but maybe he deserves the torture.

“No more tears. Let’s get married, my love.”

The guests settle, and the music begins.

The happy couple walks towards the altar in the witness of family and friends, and Geralt watches every moment of it.

If the smile on Jaskier’s face is a bit strained as the priest ties the ribbon, no one seems to notice.

---

A big thanks to anon for the prompt! I asked for some one-word or one-sentence prompts and the next thing I knew they were connecting into a whole story.

Each chapter of this story will be based on a prompt, so send in one if you want to steer it in certain directions ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #angst #background valdo/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #weddnings #unrequited love #requited unrequited love #valdo marx #endgame geraskier #ignore the fact that glass ceilings weren't a thing back then #also 'Oxenfurt Observatory' looks so nice

80 notes · View notes

petiteyoon · 4 years

Text

Goose bumps — myg [M]

ATTENTION: if you’re a minor and/or uncomfortable with mature themes please don’t read... or do it, but I warned you.

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, not-so-innocent baths in a lake, no pull-out game lmao, kind of sex with a stranger?, cum play, light spanking, slight daddy kink (yg calls himself daddy like o n c e), cum eating, Yoongi is a shy boi at first but gives up easily <3 if you hate being called princess then i’m sorry

Word count: 3k more or less

Of course I am technically ✨L A T E✨ but I guess it was worth it (even if in my country it’s still the 9th) so,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR YOONGO BONGO💜🍊

I’m still getting used to writing those things so let’s pray that there’s nothing wrong here, hope you like it!

As you woke up you silently thanked whoever was up there for having such a sunny morning, compared to the storm you were surprised with the day prior, as you reached the camping site.

The situation at hand was unexpected and quite messy since you were sleeping in your camper with seven boys, five of them scattered on the couch or in the driving seats. But it was more fun that way, you guessed.

You were traveling with your best friends, Namjoon and Jungkook, when you saw five people standing on the side of the road, with their car nearby surrounded by a thin layer of smoke.

Assuming they needed help and since they were directed to the same destination as the three of you, you offered them a hand and brought them to the camping site with you in your camper.

You slowly got off the bed, tiptoeing towards the exit and careful not to step on any hand or foot. You opened the door and hopped down, feeling the fresh grass beneath your feet. Everything around was still quiet, the only sound that could be heard was the sweet chirping of the birds that populated the trees. The area was well covered by tall, green plants and a few sun rays slipped through their leaves, creating puddles of golden light on the ground.

Before cooking yourself something to eat, you went exploring a bit, finding a couple of cute bunnies near the place and beautiful flowers, until, a bit down the path, you found a little entrance that hid a beautiful tiny lake and without a second thought you went in.

It wasn't really deep so you decided to sit on the moss that engulfed the sides and corners of the natural pool.

After contemplating the nature around you, you slipped in the cold water and slightly moved your limbs in order to get used to the low temperature.

The place was well hidden by the plants and trees, only giving you another open spot on the other side, just to admire the mountains nearby and you allowed yourself to relax. Said mountains were clearly visible and they created a stunning landscape, giving you the possibility to clear your eyes from the dull cities full of skyscrapers.

It seemed like the place was settled on another planet. Spots like this were truly a rare sight and deserved to be protected from the rest of the Earth, you thought.

"What are you doing here?"

As you were absorbed in your own world, a deep and groggy voice spoke up, making you snap your head towards the intruder.

Yoongi stood there, standing on the border of the pool and keeping an eye close to you, a veil of curiosity was wrapped around his sleepy voice.

You took a big breath and slumped your shoulders, the brief tension already subsided. "I was just looking around… this place is beautiful" you contemplated, shifting your eyes towards the landscape again. You felt the water ripple and you just assumed that Yoongi slipped in with you.

"It really is" he breathed, the sound reached your ears quicker than you thought. Turning around, the boy was really closer than you imagined, but he didn't seem to notice because his eyes were settled on the rural view as well.

You slightly shifted, tightening your shoulders as goose bumps emerged on your skin. Yoongi sensed your stiffness right away and moved towards you. With his eyebrows bent in a frown, he asked you if you were cold but you quickly shook your head.

The cold wasn’t the cause of your goose bumps, Yoongi was. You were totally feeling at ease, but having him this close was kinda unusual.

Ever since you two met the other day, you observed how his eyes always lingered for a moment on your figure, how he was always out of words and much more shy when you talked to him. Maybe he was really introverted, you assumed.

But while you were thinking about his behaviour, you have to admit that deep down you briefly daydreamed about him being attracted to you, which would be the reason for his behaviour; and if that was the case you were surely flattered about the idea of a cute guy like him feeling that way towards you.

Another couple of minutes passed by in silence, enjoying the company of the other. Yoongi slowly moved towards you, still keeping his hands on the border and his head bent down slightly.

He pressed his lips together, his whole body screamed shyness and you could perfectly feel how nervous he was. You knew he was trying to tell you something but his throat was completely shut, making it difficult to swallow.

That was when you decided to take the matter in your own hands, "Is everything okay Yoongs?" you asked.

The nickname almost made him blush but he just nodded, without opening his mouth. Your question wasn't much of help so you just tried to put him at ease without any words, just resting your head on his shoulder, to see how he would react.

Yoongi felt like the world had come to a stop and as he realized how close you were. He just stood there, eyes automatically fixated on you.

His hands were tingling. He just wanted to hold you tight against him, but he had to control himself. He had been infatuated with you since the second he laid his eyes on you, but he still didn't know you yet.

He just slipped his right arm around your shoulders, finding a comfortable position to look at the landscape. You smiled a little, content with how he was cuddling you. Even if you met him just the other day, he seemed such a sweet guy and you felt as if you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him.

You closed the space between your bodies by inching closer and closer to him, until your face was buried inside his neck. You took a deep breath and your nostrils were flooded by the masculine scent of his cologne and this made you want to pull him towards you and engulf him in a tight hug, just to be blessed by his presence.

These thoughts of him kept racing in your mind and, as if you were possessed by an unknown force, you placed a hand behind his neck and brought him down to your level, suddenly pressing your lips against his.

Maybe you were being reckless but, hell, you wanted to taste those lips so badly.

For a moment he didn't move at all, totally taken off guard; but when the action processed in his head and felt your sweet lips against his, he finally gave in. His fingertips caressed your sides while he moved his lips on yours, enjoying their softness.

Your other hand found its way between his locks and lightly gripped them, earning a small grunt from him.

His chest was flush against yours as he subconsciously pushed your body against the border of the pond. You were trapped and the only thing you could do was wrapping your legs around his waist. After doing so, his body moved even closer to yours, if that was possible. You two were caught by a sudden passion that didn't let you separate from one another.

His tongue stroked your lower lip, asking for entrance. You swiftly opened your mouth and your tongues danced, wrapped around each other. That warm feeling made you feel tingles all over your body as you caressed the back of his head. After what felt like hours, Yoongi finally broke the kiss and looked at you deeply, contemplating what you had just done.

He regained himself and pushed himself off of you, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that" he blubbered, his head bent down again.

You felt your chest tighten for a moment, confused about why he was apologizing. Maybe he didn't want to do that? You were the one that pulled him in at first, maybe he just kissed you so you wouldn't feel rejected.

But as soon as he spoke up again, your doubts were cleared, "don't get me wrong,” he shook his head when he saw your worried expression “you're really beautiful and you seem a kind and sweet person. But I shouldn't have rushed like that" he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled at him, observing his face, and got closer to him once again, "Don't apologize, I enjoyed it" you whispered and licked your lips, "We can do whatever you want to do".

He sighed once he heard your words, still unsure about the situation. He had you on a silver plate and he was mere inches away from a good time or from something that could be deeper, as he let his mind daydream; but still, he didn't know you. Maybe you just wanted to use him for one time, and maybe he would even let you do that. The tension was strong and he couldn't make a decision: he could leave aside his morals for one day, or risk it all and try for something real with you.

Was it really worthy to give in so easily to a stranger? You occupied his mind since he saw you the other day and maybe he could really try and take action on his new feelings.

After thinking about it deeply, he lifted his head and watched you with a slight pained expression "I've known you for just one day, even less, but you already make me go crazy", so he conjoined again your bodies and kissed you.

The tension that built up inside you while waiting for an answer left your soul as soon as you felt his warm presence again against you. You didn't have time to reflect on his confession as you tightly wrapped your arms around his neck, lightly biting his lower lip and tasting him.

He sighed, his breath hot on your lips and you felt his fingertips brush your sides, slipping under your shirt. You unconsciously arched your back, giving him more access to explore your body. His cold hands gripped the flesh where your ribs were, picking you up and placing you on the border, with his hips in between your legs. A small whimper left your mouth as you felt his crotch push against your centre, pressing your nails into his shoulder blades.

His lips slightly turned into a grin, the sweet sound reaching his ears. Your moans were heaven to him and as he secured an arm around your waist, his other hand started to caress your thigh, slowly inching closer and closer towards the hem of your shorts.

Your heart was beating fast against your chest and it was difficult to breathe. His finger slid in your thin shorts that were soaked and clinging to your skin. He gently stroked your sensitive bud, earning another delicious moan from you. A new wave of pleasure washed over you as you felt hot pressure against your clit. He soon reached your entrance, he circled his fingers around it, collecting your arousal and teasing you. You broke the kiss and whimpered again while trying to catch your breath.

Your hips involuntarily pushed towards his hand, wanting just to feel his fingers in you, but before you could express your needs he removed his hand from your shorts and gripped at the hem of the clothing. Immediately taking the hint, you placed your hands on the hard surface and raised your hips, allowing him to take off your pants and underwear together.

His hand returned to its place as he rubbed the wet skin around your entrance, thanks to how wet you were, his finger dipped with ease in your heat, disappearing between your folds. The delicious burn made you cry out his name, throwing your head back, your nails scratching the ground at your sides.

Your hips slightly rolled with the movement of his hand, his face was buried in your neck, leaving wet kisses and bites that will surely leave a mark on your skin. Your hand reached Yoongi's locks, pulling them and making him groan against you, fingers pushing even deeper inside you and stroking your sweet spot.

You felt your orgasm approach quickly, a string of moans and whimpers left your lips. Yoongi's thumb pressed against your clit, circling it harshly and finally bringing you to the edge. Your hand gripped his hair even tighter and you cried out his name, legs shaking as a pang of pleasure exploded in your lower abdomen.

But Yoongi didn't stop, with his lips attached to yours, blocking your screams, he kept pistoning his fingers in and out of you, prolonging your orgasm until your shaky hand gripped his wrist, as you were too sensitive to continue.

He broke the kiss and brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting your sweet cum on his digits, "You taste delicious, princess" he spoke with his deep voice, planting another kiss on your lips.

You smiled at him in your post-orgasm haze, cheeks flushed with droopy eyes. "I should return the favour now, what do you think?" your legs moved closer to him on their own, and you found your hand already making its way towards his tummy.

He took your hand in his, shaking his head "I don't wanna waste time, I want to be buried inside you right now" he claimed, grabbing your arm and spinning you around, trapping you again between the ground and his waist.

You whined at his sudden action, but Yoongi didn't give you any time to understand what was happening as he brought his hand down your butt cheek harshly, a light smack reached your ears.

You moaned at the sudden contact, feeling your plump skin burn under his tight grip, "M-More… please," you cried out for him, feeling an unknown pleasure from what he was doing. You never minded that much, a bit of spanking was always there in your bed activities but Yoongi literally lit up a fire inside of you and you melted every time his palms touched your hot skin.

"Is princess that needy?" you could feel the smug grin in his voice, satisfied with the effect he had on you. You bit hard on your lip and pushed back your butt, nodding fervently. He quickly pulled down his pants, his warm cock now rested heavily against your backside as he stroked your cheeks.

However, instead of giving you what you wanted, he wrapped a hand around himself and pressed his tip in your entrance, without entering fully. You whined again, sick of all his teasing while you squirmed under him, desperate to feel him inside.

He blocked your movements with one hand and bent down towards your ear, growling "Stop being a brat, or else daddy won't give you the fuck that you deserve today" his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, biting it and finally pushing his length fully inside of you.

A loud moan left your throat at the sudden intrusion. Yoongi gave you some time to adjust as he wrapped his arm around your waist, "But for now I will let that pass, I don't wanna play games" as he said this, he began moving his hips. His thrusts weren't fast, but slow, deep and intense, making you feel at every movement that delicious stroke against your walls that almost made you go crazy.

You searched his hand with yours until you found it on your hip, and squeezed it. The tender gesture of holding hands was in stark contrast with the things he was doing to you. While his right hand was occupied with yours, his left one travelled towards your swollen bud, ready to give it again the attention deserved.

As his thrusts sped up, slamming his hips against you, his digits quickly worked their magic on your clit. "Yes…! Yoongi, oh my god," you mewled, the pleasure difficult to bear, "You're so big, it feels too good," you praised him, pushing your head back, trying to meet his thrusts.

You could hear him gasping from time to time, in sync with his dick coming in and out of you. Another wave of pleasure washed over you when you realized how strained he sounded, proud that you were making him feel this way.

His hips stuttered and the pace he was maintaining started to falter. You knew he was near the edge by the small grunts that left his glistening lips with every thrust and you were close as well.

As you finally managed to match with his thrusts, setting a new, hard pace, Yoongi dug his nails into your soft skin, "Fuck princess, you're squeezing me so tight" almost out of breath, he gripped onto you as if his life depended on it.

Another couple of quick, rough thrusts and he found himself slumping over you, whispering your name in a broken moan, right into your ear. You shuddered as you felt his cum coating your velvety walls, milking him as you reached your climax as well for the second time.

As the after waves of the orgasm wouldn't let your legs stop quivering, Yoongi squeezed his arms around you, keeping you close to him as he rested his head on your back, eyes closed and catching his breath.

You two stood there, without moving for a moment, your limbs slowly relaxing.

"That was amazing" he whispered with a raspy voice, getting off of you and caressing your arms. You smiled to yourself and nodded, agreeing with him without a single word, turning towards him and putting on your long-forgotten shorts.

Yoongi kissed your forehead with a foreign sweetness, enveloping you again in a warm hug. You closed your eyes and buried yourself deep into his chest as your mind slowly came back to reality. You glanced up, staring into his eyes and playing with your nails, you suddenly had many questions swarming inside your head but maybe… it was better not to open your mouth for now.

You suddenly took a look at your hands and noticed how wrinkled they were, you scrunched up your nose and showed your palms to Yoongi. "I think it's better if we get out of here" you pouted and Yoongi nodded, soon following you.

When you returned to the camping site, everyone was awake and eating breakfast. Jimin spotted the two of you first and waved at you, calling for Yoongi. "Where were you, lovebirds? You're totally soaked" he took a close look on you, going inside the camper to take two warm towels and you kindly thanked him.

"We discovered a little pond down there, it's really nice and it's not even that deep," Yoongi explained, sitting on the bench next to Hoseok, with you next to him.

Currently, Jin had just finished cooking breakfast for everyone, while Taehyung already had his nose deep in his precious strawberries. You remembered him mentioning his love for those fruits, and at first you didn't understand his excitement but after he let you try his strawberries… you swear that was the sweetest thing you ever tried.

In front of you sat Jungkook, playing some game on his phone, with Namjoon by his side, who was eyeing you in a weird way. But you didn't mind his behaviour at that moment.

For now you just wanted to eat and enjoy the rest of the day with the boys. You still felt butterflies in your stomach while thinking about what happened at the lake and you were excited to discover what that day would bring to you.

388 notes · View notes

meenah-chan · 3 years

Text

Safe haven

a Diavolo x GN! MC fanfic

2.36k words

Genre: Angst

Trigger warning: Insane deadly stunt but not suicide, please don't read if you have this triggers. And please don't try this at home... or anywhere

Part 2 (Safe Haven ~Another Story~) | Part 3 (Safe Haven ~Epilogue~)

Masterlist

It is their sanctuary. A place that has everything they could wish for...

if only, fate isn't fickle...

"If I jump, will you save me again?"

"What a wretched soul I have..."

It’s been an hour since they were staring far in the horizon. Dusk is on its way, with the lake gulping the sun whole to bring forth darkness in the grassy land they’re on. That place is secluded, surrounded with trees serving as its walls. As if it were cradling them away from everything.

It's not their first-time watching day turn to night on where they are. They’ve known that spot enough to vividly paint the place on a whim.

It was neither a simple place as it seems. That place is a part of the human realm, untouched by anyone but two persons— them and Diavolo. A place which witnessed how the said Prince dropped on his knees and confessed he likes them. The place they admit they felt the same.

The place where they held hands in their secret rendezvous; times where the Future king would go to whenever he ran away from his endless responsibilities for a day and spend it with them, with words of affections and adorations for each other. It is their safe haven.

The Forget-me-not flowers they planted are blooming around them. As the two sat beneath the shade of the tree, appreciating the presence of the flowers and each other.

Diavolo has a habit of caressing their cheeks, brushing strands of their locks past their ears, as he embraces them as if they were the most precious treasure, he has ever held. Those smiles he would beam; brighter than the sol they always see. "You're the most beautiful being I have ever seen." And they would smile back, with their feelings overflowing so much they would always pour it back to him with a kiss.

But being always in that place doesn't mean they never left it. There are times they would give him a heart attack by literally jumping off the edge of the cliff. The demon prince then would follow them in a snap, before transforming right before their eyes and seizing them.

They knew it was a foolish thing to do. No sane person would ever carry out such dumb, dangerous stunt. They do have a magic or two under their sleeves should Diavolo fail the task. Spells they would feverishly study and tirelessly practice for the sake of the success of the Exchange Student program; for the sake of making Diavolo proud of them. So, they studied hard, yet fools only around their beloved.

So, they kept on flying off to the danger at every given chance. For the feeling during the times they would fall, they had the best view they could ever see in their lifetime. How the demon they ever loved could be so... breathtaking. Turning into his demon form—metamorphosing like a dazzling butterfly, his red locks fluttering in the wind, with such golden ornaments, such golden eyes reflecting the radiance of the sun. And most of all, such playful, thrilled smiles they would willingly lay their life just to see. He seems like the mesmerizing golden red dusk. He may be a demon, but Diavolo is much more divine than the angels in their eyes.

And to think that such an ambrosial prince would hold them in his firm arms, and bury them in his well-toned chest before gliding up in the air. They really love the feeling. Akin to the flowers they cultivate symbolizes, he is their true love.

"Should we land back on the top of the land?"

"Just a little bit longer." Humming, they would place a peck onto the tip of his horn or temple whenever they would request something so badly, which then would receive a chuckle from the Demon. "Hahaha, what a pampered human... Alright, just a little bit longer." And who knows how long they stay in the air. Then they would share small talks back on the cliff, and soon be bombarded with tons of messages and missed calls from the butler and the right-hand man. They would head back home after that, before the said aides decide to search for them and find their secret haven.

It was all they could ever wish for. An everlasting love to carry inside their mortal heart.

They have everything they could ask for, until that day comes. A moonless, rainy night during the celebration of Diavolo's birth.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, the Future King of Devildom." …the day she came. Rosa, a rather respected princess, and the daughter of Queen Rose.

"...N-No, the pleasure is mine." Whether he was flustered by her sudden appearance or not, something was rather amiss. His gaze towards her was different than anything they've ever seen him make. So different yet... familiar. Like the way his eyes sparked of reverie the day they first met, except it was more profound.

Diavolo sighed, "I'm telling you, you don't have to worry. You know you're the one I love." It was nothing, he said. It was only in their imagination, he said. Even so, the connection between the two they perceived every time the two met on business, felt so real.

They were so anxious, so angry they wanted to explode. They want to blame it all on that demon princess who appeared out of nowhere, and brought everything to a big mess! They wanted to lash at her, right from the deepest pit of their stomach!

...Yet, they didn't.

They simply can't. Not when she was like an angel who descended in the land of darkness.

So pure yet so wise, so diligent and well-versed. She is strong-willed and rather capable in every aspect. She doesn't deserve to be blamed for something she didn't mean to do. It was merely a work of two hearts naturally falling for each other. It was inevitable.

Instead of brooding without doing anything, they will fight. They will fight for what's theirs. For what's right. For the specks of affection left inside Diavolo. For their love, they won't give up.

Or so they thought...

"Y/N, would you mind having tea with me later?" Barbatos asked for their attendance.

But unlike the usual afternoon tea they always share with the butler, "Where's Diavolo?" ... the prince is not around.

"The Young master has prior engagement and brought Lucifer in my stead. My apologies if it was not to your liking."

"Ahh, no. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that... having snacks with only you are unusual." It's not unusual. Rather, it never occurred even once. Diavolo tends to postpone the teatime for another time whenever he can't go, as Barbatos always join his absence.

"Actually, I asked you today about an important matter to discuss."

"...Is it related to Diavolo and me, isn't it?" They shouldn't have asked him. They hated themself for asking Diavolo's attendant.

"Yes. To be precise, it is about your relationship and the lady you met during Young master's birthday. I believe you have the right to know this." They held their breath. "I hate to break it to you but the lady you met back then, is the Young Master's... fiancée and his soulmate." The words that came off Barbatos' lips felt like cold water dumped on them.

They just want to end the conversation right there and leave the garden as fast as they can, but they forcefully pull themself together and learn the whole truth, as painful as it is for them. "...Fiancee, you said? And what do you mean by soulmate?"

"For every heir of the throne, there is a prophecy foretelling the righteous betrothed one fated for them. This Oracle has never once failed in predicting who..." Barbatos paused, evaluating whether they could take any more. "...would help the Ruler in bringing prosperity in the Devildom."

After a minute of silence, they spoke. "Does Diavolo know all about this? About her?"

"Yes... but I swear in my name, he has always wanted to be free of the prophecy and achieve prosperity through his own power."

"Where is he headed to at the moment?"

"..." Barbatos' silence tells them everything. He is with her. That's all that they needed to know.

"I... see... Thank you for telling me this."

"I— no, I don't deserve such words from you." They shook their head, "You still disclosed this even when Diavolo wanted to keep it a secret from me. I'm sorry I brought trouble to you."

"It was my own choice. I'm just doing what I think is right."

"Thank you, really..."

They left the castle, thinking a lot of things but also finally enlightened.

They never had Diavolo's heart from the start.

He is the future of the Devildom, the future of all the demons who could easily outlive them. And for that he needs an Empress who can fully support him and bear another long-lived heir. His soulmate, his forever, his other half. Everything that they could never be.

Their life is short. His' is not. He could never fathom the extent of his life like they could. That is also the reason why they could love him until the day they cease to exist, a mere blink to him.

As obvious as the glaring sun that blinds them atop that cliff, his love... is gone.

They could see it in his eyes. Every day he spends with them, his mind is somewhere else.

Even in their favorite place, his embraces were still as cold as the mountain's peak. His smile is too forced, like a one man playing before their eyes. His kisses were prickling and painful. And his gaze... He is suffering.

Like they were.

"Forgive me." It was for the Devildom, he said. His head hangs low, wearing that distressed expression.

"Hey, lift your head? The future king shouldn't bow to anyone." They smiled, cupping his cheeks to raise his face.

"Look, I understand." It was a surprise they didn't shed a drop of tear, as they pat his head gently. "Follow your heart. You'll become a great king."

He made a wise decision, to choose his bond that suddenly came that day. Someone who really owns Diavolo's heart per destiny's decree. The heart they thought he offered back then, with the trees, and the cool breeze, and the swaying leaves, and the sunset as their witnesses. The heart they thought were already theirs. The heart that slipped from their fingers as he let go of their hand when Diavolo locked eyes with his fated one.

Diavolo's love is fleeting. Or maybe it was never love from the start, but a mere curiosity on his end. A misconception, but it doesn't matter anymore. They already knew the answer.

He already achieved his true love, holding his Empress in white. He wears that smile, much, much brighter than anything they have ever seen.

The bells sing with the crowd in jubilation. It is a merry occasion, with the official new rulers of the Devildom. All were so elated.

Except for one. "What a wretched soul I have..." they uttered under their breath. They couldn't take the sight. With the man they so love to be happy in someone's arms. Rage was boiling inside them. Staying there for a second longer and they would definitely ravage everything. So, they fled the scene, escaping to their secret place surrounded by the lake and the sea of trees.

They wanted to let it all out. Pain, sorrow, rage, envy. They were overflowing with emotion more than they could take. It should be them, placing a ring on his finger! the one smiling and crying of happiness as he makes a vow! The one who should be kissing him in front of thousands of witnesses!

"WHY?! What did I do to deserve this?!" The swaying blue and white Forget-me-nots they took with utmost care came to view. "What useless plants!!" They cried out, yanking and tearing everything off the soil. "True love?! It was only me from the very start!!"

All they could do was cry. Scream until their throat goes dry, until their voice disappears.

When all energy left their body, they slumped in the grassy land they’re on. In that secluded place, surrounded with trees serving as its walls. As if it were cradling them away from everything. Hiding their wretched self from everyone.

Dazed, they stared at the sky for an hour. As its hue turns from light blue to red, their mind gets clearer. That's when they heard a familiar sound. They followed it on the tip of the cliff.

It was the roaring waves beneath the land mass. It seems like it's continuing the cries they couldn't do anymore. Roaring like it was spilling the emotions inside them.

"If I jump, will you save me again?" They spoke to the man who is no longer in that secret place. It will never be a safe haven for them anymore.

"I want to be saved by you one more time." I want to be embraced by you one last time.

They faced their back to the rim of the cliff, and took a step backward. A foot standing on a void. And so, their body tipped, losing the other foot from the ground. As their balance disappears, they see nothing but the golden rays of the sunset and the redness of the dusk. So red like Diavolo's locks, golden like his eyes. There's nothing but only traces of him; of the man who doesn't really love them as he promised.

This is foolish... They thought. They're all alone. No Diavolo will fly down and save them anymore.

"I should go home..." Dying here would only hurt him... They whispered as the firm breeze swirls beneath, ready to catch them. After all, no one will save me but I... thinking of that, another pang spiked their heart.

But the wind spell they casted couldn't catch them. When they should have been falling, a hand appeared and pulled them in an embrace.

"Please don't do this..." it was not the warmth they were expecting. Yet, streams began flowing down their cheeks, in comfort of another’s arms. With their hoarse voice they sob the sorrow of losing their safe haven.

Part 2 (Safe Haven ~Another Story~) | Part 3 (Safe Haven ~Epilogue~)

Masterlist

#guess who fell asleep like a baby while editing this?#and while using a laptop #hahaha still I finished it anyways 😆😆💖💖#obey me diavolo #obey me fanfic #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo angst #obey me barbatos #obey me mc #obey me #obey me shall we date #om!#obey me swd #obey me masters #obey me boys #meenah-chan~~

118 notes · View notes

xenia-cenia · 4 years

Text

Bennett x Fem!Reader - Aster

A/N: The last post kinda blew up so of COURSE I’m doing more in this style. Also he’s totally the son of the pyro archon I don’t take criticism

Fun fact: at the end I legit started to blush a little bit.

Trigger/Content Warnings: Regicide/murder, violence, PTSD/nightmares, kidnapping, light swearing

Word Count: 3,560

Request: No

Summary: Everything that has been Lost will eventually be found; be it Princesses or swords.

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

Very few places in Teyvat still bowed to royalty and Mondstadt was no different.

The people of Mondstadt bowed to alcohol and freedom; the people of Liyue bowed to commerce and wealth.

But you did not hail from Mondstadt or Liyue - you were born into a country far away from Archons and Visions. A country that was set under siege 10 years ago, a country that lost its rulers with a swift slash of a sword.

Rumors spiraled of the young princess escaping with a woman who burned with embers in her eyes and infernos in her hands. Some say the women took the princess only to end the royal line herself, others say she raised the child as her own. As more and more time passed on, people agreed that the woman never existed and the princess died during the attacks.

“Bennett!” You shouted from the balcony overlooking the entryway of Mondstadt. The white-haired boy's head snapped up, a smile growing on his face. You jumped over the balcony and ran to him, “How was your adventure?”

“I found so much treasure!” He began sorting through his pockets and eventually brought out a small bag, he opened it and brought out a golden ring with a raven insignia pressed onto the blue jewel attached to it. He extended his hand and smiled shyly, you slowly set your right hand down on his extended hand. The ring slipped onto your finger perfectly.

“Woah,” you gaped at the ring, admiring the way the jewel seemed to absorb every bit of light, “Where did you find this?”

Bennett chuckled nervously, not wanting to tell you the truth of how many traps he fell into while receiving the ring, “J-just found it... y’know... lying around.”

You looked up at him and narrowed your eyes, “Benny...”

He scratched the back of his head and mumbled under his breath, “I only almost died like... twice.”

“Bennett!” You yelled and lightly smacked his arm, “Don’t risk your life for this stuff! We’ve talked about this.”

“But you looked so happy when you saw the ring...”

“And I’m happier each time you come home to me! Promise you won’t do this anymore!”

“But...”

“Promise!”

“Fine! Fine. I promise I won’t risk my life for gifts anymore.” He sighed but couldn’t contain the soft blush on his cheeks.

“Thank you.” You grabbed his hand and squeezed them, “Really, thank you. I... just please don’t get hurt for me.”

He smiled brightly and kneeled slightly to match your height, “You’re the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me, (Y/N).”

You laughed and began to jog away, “Where did THAT come from? Barbatos save me, you’re so cute.”

“Cute?!” Bennett half-laughed half-yelled in shock, “(Y/N)!” He started running after you, “(Y/N)! You can’t just say that and run away!”

“Come and catch me then!” You giggled as he chased after you. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to you, grab you by the waist, pick you up and spin you around. You laughed and looked at him, “How come I’m nearly as tall as you, yet you can still effortlessly pick me up?”

He smiled and nuzzled his chin into your hair, “I spend all day fighting hilichulrs and climbing mountains, did you think I couldn’t pick you up?”

“I guess I knew you could, I just didn’t think you would.” You spun out of his grasp and grabbed his hands, “Ooh, that reminds me! You have to hear about this story I just found!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s so cool! It’s about Vanessa...” as the two of you walked back to your small house, you regaled him with stories you had read that day, gushing over the vast history that Mondstadt had.

When you had finished talking, the moon had taken its rightful spot in the sky and called you and Bennett to sleep. You lied on the bed and waited to feel Bennett's warm body press against your chest, his heavy arms draped over your sides. Within moments of him getting into bed, he fell fast asleep. You smiled and buried your head under his chin, letting sleep overtake you.

Screams echoing in your ears, you bit your lip as tears fell down your cheeks. The dress you had treasured was torn and burnt, you could hear pounding footsteps outside your door, looking for your head to hang on a wall.

You didn’t know when this started, all you knew is that you needed to hide. You tried your best to block out the noise, but you could still hear their death thralls and see your parents extend their bloodied hands towards you.

“Run.” They had whispered. And run you did.

You ran down the twisting corridors, you hid under your Father's desk and prayed to something - anything - that you would survive this and see your family again. But even as a 6-year-old, you knew that your chances of survival were slim to none.

Soft footsteps slowly made their way across the room, you felt heat begin to boil your skin. A woman kneeled down and set her blade on the ground.

“P... please don’t hurt me.” You shook.

She smiled; a warm and comforting smile, “Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?”

You stared at her with wide eyes, your heart sinking into your stomach. This was the end. You were going to die here. Your family's legacy would crash and tumble, the last thing you’d see was this woman's bright green eyes and smile.

She outstretched her hand, “Come, Princess, I can save you.”

You woke up with a deep gasp, sweat and tears mixing on your face. You looked at Bennett who was still sound asleep, you slowly slid out of the bed and took deep breaths.

How long was it since you’ve last this nightmare? What was it about sleeping next to Bennett that caused you to see the woman clearer? You shook the thoughts out of your head and decided to take a walk to clear your head.

Flower picking always seemed to calm you down. You crept outside your house and into the Mondstadt fields to reminisce in the familiar scents of flowers. You sat on the ground and quietly hummed to yourself, completely lost in thought, not noticing the figure watching you from a distance.

Slowly, he crept up to you until he grabbed your wrist. You jumped in shock and smiled nervously. “Hello?”

“What are you doing... out so late at night?”

“I... um, just picking flowers.” You used your left hand to gesture around, “It’s so pretty out, I just couldn’t sleep until I brought a few home for my boyfriend...”

“Oh?” The man kneeled down, “Boyfriend, eh? What’s he like?”

“He’s... well, he’s really unlucky.” You looked around to see if he had any allies with him - but even if he did you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight. You were more of a kind soul than a violent one. “He’s probably expecting me home any minute now, so I should really go...” you began to pull out of the man's grasp when he tightened his grip on your wrist.

“What a pretty ring.” He held your hand up to his eyes, “Not as pretty as you, of course.”

“T-Thank you?”

“Would you mind if we took a walk? I get a bit lonely walking through these fields all by myself.” He cheerily laughed.

“I... my b-boyfriend...”

He smiled brightly but his grip began to become painful, “I’m sure he won’t mind, will he? Oh, speaking of! I never got your name, how rude of me.”

“I really need to go.” You tried to pull out of his grasp again.

“Now, now. I know those eyes. Right, Princess?”

“Pri-” you began, but before you could finish your sentence he swung at your chin and you crumpled onto the ground.

“What a great find!” He chuckled to himself as he lifted your unconscious body over his shoulder, “The amount of money we’ll get for her...”

Bennett woke up the same way he does every day: with a sore neck and on the floor. He sighed and sat up, happy that he remembered to put pillows on the floor last night. He looked at the empty bed and smiled to himself, you were probably out picking flowers or meeting with some of your friends. It always made him happy that you had things to do while he was out adventuring, but it always made him happier when you stayed near the city.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you. You weren’t naive or sheltered just... not someone cut out for battle. He had tried countless times to teach you how to fight, even got his Dads involved, but you always seemed hopeless.

Your stance was wrong, you’d drop the sword or you’d nearly poke someone's eye out. Eventually, you decided to just stay near. Stay safe. Fighting simply wasn’t your thing - and that’s fine! He’d be okay with it either way.

He changed into his clothes, headed out of his house, and walked around Mondstadt. Katheryne smiled and waved hello, he walked over to her and asked about new commissions. She gave him 4 more and bid him good luck, before he set out he asked if she’d seen you today.

“(Y/N)?” She rocked back and forth on her heels, “No... I don’t think so.”

Bennett felt concern but quickly shook it away, “Tell me if you see her!”

As he set out on his commissions, he found himself being distracted. Not seeing you when he woke up was normal enough, but Katheryne not seeing you? That was weird. He only even asked as a formality - Katheryne always saw you. She always chatted with you before you met up for midday tea.

He palmed the hilt of his sword as he began walking to his second commission of the day, completely lost in thought and not noticing the small hole in the ground. One misstep was all it took for Bennett to trip and roll his ankle.

Bennett winced in pain and slowly brought himself out of the hole, “Just my luck, huh...” He reached into his backpack, pulled out medical supplies, and set to work on mending his wounds. On the ground, he spotted a few picked windwheel asters scattered around. He pulled himself over to them and smiled to himself, imagining the smile on your face when he brought your favorite Mondstadt specialty home to you.

As he twirled the windwheel aster between his fingers, he recalled his earlier unease. With a quick shake of his head, he replaced it with happier thoughts. He pulled himself up, tucked the windwheel aster into his belt, and headed home.

The unlucky boy more stumbled than walked home, beating the pain with fantasies of your smile.

As he arrived back in Mondstadt, he walked over to Katheryne who perked up when she saw him.

“Bennett!” She called, “You’ve been gone a while. Did you complete your commissions?”

“Not really,” he laughed quietly, “ended up rolling my ankle.”

“Oooh,” her eyebrows knit together, “I think Barbara is still working tonight.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. I can just sleep it off.” He began to step away when he remembered something, he knocked onto the counter with his gloved hand and shot a big smile, “Oh, that reminds me. Have you seen (Y/N) at all?”

Katherynes concern fell into nervousness, “I... I was going to ask you that.”

“I gotta go.” He broke out into a sprint towards your house, the pain from his ankle seemed insignificant compared to his pounding heart. As if some lucky break, he didn’t trip or run into anyone on his way home.

He threw the door open and yelled, “(Y/N)?!” No response. He searched each room in the house, tearing apart every spot that you could even possibly be hiding in before ran to the Knights of Favonius headquarters. He practically barreled through the door to the library and with heavy breaths looked a startled Lisa in the eyes.

“Bennett?” She took a second to regain her composure, “Oh, actually, have you seen (Y/N) lately? We just got a new book I think she’d-”

Before she could finish, Bennett left the library and ran into the Acting Grand Masters office.

“Master Jean!” He panted, his arms shaking as he held the edges of the doorframe.

Jean looked up at him, piles of paperwork covering her desk, “Can I help you?”

“Yes! Yes, you can!” He walked into the room, tripped over his feet, got up, and sat down in the chair, “You’ve heard of (Y/N), right?”

“(Y/N)...” she repeated, “Oh, yes. I have. She helps me out every now and then.”

“Have you seen her at all today?”

Jean leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her lips, “No, I can’t say I have. Why?”

Bennett groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t know where she is! I woke up today and she was gone, which, yeah, is pretty normal for her but still! Not you, Katheryne, or Lisa have seen her! I’m really scared - she can’t fight and she keeps going out to pick flowers really far away! Please, please help me find her.”

She folded her hands, “What’s your name?”

“B-Bennett!”

“Bennett. Take Lisa with you and look around Mondstadt. If you still can’t find her, come back to me and we’ll discuss this again. Understood?”

“I’ve looked around Mondstadt!”

“Okay,” she exhaled, “I’ll organize a search party.” Jean stood, grabbed her vision, and walked with purpose.

Bennett sat in the chair, shaking. “(Y/N)... where are you...”

You woke up with a pounding headache and with something wet pressed against the side of your face. There was a tight rope binding your hands behind your back and chains connecting your feet to a small metal cage you were trapped in. You sat up and took deep breaths, trying to recall what happened.

“1 million mora? For a princess? We can do better than that.” A voice sneered.

“How do we know she’s really the princess?”

“Wait until you see her eyes! The Lost (L/N) Princess and she fell right into our hands! Hah! How lucky!”

You looked around your surroundings, other than the cage you were in, it seemed like a normal campsite. You didn’t quite recognize the area you were in and that worried you.

“H... hey!” You called out. The two voices fell quiet and eventually, two men came into your view.

“You’re awake.” A young man with orange eyes and dusty brown hair spoke, a purple face mask concealing his mouth and nose.

You narrowed your eyes at him, recognizing him as the man who took you hostage, “Where am I?”

The second man who had a hat covering his face kneeled in front of you, happiness beaming in his light blue eyes, “Well, I’ll be damned. It really is her.”

He grabbed the chains on your feet and pulled you towards him, “I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

“Let me go.” You growled, “I swear to god when Benny finds you-”

“Benny?” The man wearing the hat turned towards the masked man, “Whose Benny?”

“Her boyfriend, probably.”

“Hmm...” he leaned back and thought for a moment, “Well, you know what they say about loose ends...”

“W...wait.” Panic began to tear through your body, “Wait, please don’t. Oh, god, no. Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you ask just... please.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Well, stay put.” He opened the door on the cage and motioned for you to open your mouth, you complied. He ripped a piece of cloth off your clothes and tied it around your mouth, “Can’t have you screaming for help now, can we?” He chuckled and shut the cage again.

“What do we do now?” The masked man stood, anxiously bouncing on his heels.

“Find the boy.”

“And?”

“Well,” the man sat in front of your cage, pulling down his mask and showing you a bright grin, “See how much he wants his beloved back.”

You glared at him with tears in your eyes, trying to push the gag out of your mouth but to no avail.

Bennett sat on your bed, trying to keep himself from crying. 3 days. 3 days you’ve been missing. He wrapped himself in your clothes, taking deep breaths and trying to smell you on whatever remnant he had left.

The smell was fading.

He choked back tears and focused on you. Your smile, your voice, your favorite story, anything. Anything at all.

A loud knock at his door made him jump. Excitement and nervousness built into his feet as he ran to the door, maybe the Knights found you, maybe it was you. He threw the door open and saw a small slip of paper on the ground. With shaking hands, he picked it up, and when he finished reading its contents he couldn’t stop himself from crying or collapsing onto the ground.

Benny -

You probably want to know where (Y/N) is. She’s safe. For now, at least.

You have 24 hours to either get 30 million mora or something of equal value to

get her back safely. If you miss the deadline, we will sell her to the highest bidder. Deliver the money to the great tree in Windrise.

Come alone.

Proof that we have her is attached.

On the other side was a lock of your hair. He clutched it to his chest before carefully tucking it into his satchel, and just like that he took off searching for each mora or item in your house that could even possibly have value.

He would have sold the clothes off his back if it meant he’d see you again. But in the end, he fell short.

Not even 1 million mora.

He walked to the great tree, hoping he could strike some sort of deal. With his sword at his hip, he knew what he had to do.

The unlucky boy shook as he set the sword against the tree, his eyes filled with tears as a single man came from the shadows.

“You didn’t bring anything?” He scoffed, “She really loves you more than you love her.”

“She... she’s alive? Thank... thank the Archons.” His head drooped in relief, “M-my sword. It’s worth at least 30 million mora. Take it.”

The man stepped forward and inspected the sword, “Hm.” He practiced a few slashes with it, “Yes, this seems like it’ll catch a fair price.”

“Where is she?” He pulled himself to his feet, “I gave you what you wanted... where is she?”

He laughed under his mask, “Long gone. As we speak, she’s being pawned off.”

“Wh... what?” Bennett stepped forward, “I did what you asked.”

“Yes, you did. A 30 million mora sword and whatever she sells for... now my buddies and I will have the life we’ve always wanted.”

“That’s not fair.” He began to feel his blood boil under his skin, “You... you can’t do that.”

Bennett saw red, and the next thing he knew his sword was back in his hands and he was marching directly to you.

Wrath and fear forced his body on and it only increased tenfold as he saw a group of people standing around a cage, one of the men counting mora as he loudly spoke about your name to the onlookers.

Fire roared inside of him, their arrows and swords burned the moment he got near. Everything was burned to ash, except for you. He turned to the cage and felt his chest constrict as he saw tears pooling down your face and a gag keeping you silent.

He dropped his sword and ran over to the cage, it didn’t take him long to open the lock and remove the gag.

“Benny!” You gasped when you could speak, “Oh, god, Benny, I was so scared. T-They... they said they were going to kill you.”

“I’m here, it’s okay.” He broke the chains off your feet and untied the rope around your hands, “Can you walk?”

“I... I think?” He helped you out of the cage, but you immediately stumbled when you touched the ground. He wrapped his arms around your waist and caught you.

“I’ll carry you. Are you tired?” He sat you on the ground for a moment as he sheathed his sword, before picking you up bridal style and making sure to tighten his hands around so he wouldn’t drop you.

“A... a little.”

“I bet,” he beamed, “Bennys Adventure Team is here to help you!”

Your laughter dissolved into coughing.

Bennett frowned and held you close, “When we get home, I’ll read you a story.”

“About Vanessa?”

“About anything you want.”

You leaned into his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck, “As long as it’s you... I don’t care what it is.”

He was going to respond, but he noticed your eyes fall shut. He leaned down to make sure you were still breathing, smiled to himself, and began the long trek home.

Whenever you wanted to pick flowers or do anything outside of the city, he’d always offer to come with you. He doesn’t want you to go missing again. At night, he draws you close against his chest as he sleeps.

#benny x reader #bennett x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact bennett #genshin impact benny #one shot #oneshot #x reader #x reader fanfiction #fanfiction #bennett x you #benny x you #happy endings #saved by bennett #saved by benny

152 notes · View notes

hops-hunny · 3 years

Note

Could you do something like a bunch of ur friends go on a trip and spend the night at a hotel and you end up having to share a room with Neville and it’s kinda awkward at first but after a while it’s kinda chill and then outta no where Neville confesses his feelings and then you confess yours and then there is just very lovey dovey type sex

PRONOUNS: SHE/HER

(Y/n) was beyond the valley of happy. Ever since 4th year, her and her friends had been saving and planning for this very trip. To celebrate their departure from their days at Hogwarts, they all had collectively decided to visit the various places in Europe. Tonight they ended up in Italy, a lavish hotel that they had gotten for such a good deal! However, when she arrived and saw that Ginny, Luna, and Hermione had all brought their boyfriends, she shortly realized this wasn’t the all girl’s trip they had planned it as when they were 15.

“Guys? What are the boys doing here? And Neville, no offense Neville.” she said. The boy shot her a nod of acknowledgment letting her know he knew her words held no ill intent.

“Well you see, when we told the boys we were going on a trip, they for some reason thought they were included.” Ginny started, avoiding her friend’s agitated (e/c) eyes.

“Yeah and so we had to switch the room arrangements..” Hermione trailed, also not making eye contact with her. However, Luna offered the girl a bright smile, a glint unknown behind her eyes.

“Meaning?” (Y/n) asked, already sensing that something was most definitely up.

“Meaning you’re sharing a room with Neville! You two know each other, yes?” Luna beamed causing the girl to stiffen. Of course she knew Neville. She had been madly in love with her since 3rd year when he gave her a flower on valentine’s day because her date stood her up. She looked over at Neville who had an unreadable look on his face, cheeks flushed a bright red as he picked at his skin awkwardly. (Y/n) sighed, nodding as she snatched her room key from Hermione’s hands, dragging her suitcase towards the elevator.

When she got into the room, her eyes widened at the California king sized bed in the middle. She groaned, throwing herself in the middle of the bed, her head sinking into the mountain of overly priced pillows. “Well, at least its big.” she muttered to herself. Even though she’d be sharing a bed with him, the bed was big enough for each of them to have their own sides and sleep comfortably. She popped up at the sound of the door slamming shut.

“Sorry. Oh dear, there’s only one bed? That can’t be right.” He said, eyes practically popping out of his head. If it weren’t for her own underlying nerves, she would’ve found humor in his expression.

“It’s fine. I mean it’s big enough for the both of us. I can just take the couch if you want.” she said shrugging going to move from the bed.

“No!” he shouted, causing her own eyes to bug a bit. “I-I mean it’s fine. I don’t mind sharing but I have to be honest.” he started off, taking a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. “It wouldn’t be right for me to sleep in the same bed without you knowing this so I think it’s important that I let you know prior that I have feelings for you. I don’t want you to think I’m a creep or something.” he muttered. However, (Y/n) couldn’t reply. She was stunned. The same guy she had been pining over since her 3rd year at that bloody school harbored the same feelings?

“Well that makes this a hell of a lot less awkward.” she responded simply, falling back on the bed. Neville’s eyes fell to the skin exposed by her skirt lifting before his eyes widened, shooting to hers which were closed in comfort.

“A-are you saying what I think you are?” He asked in disbelief. He couldn’t believe his ears. She giggled some at his dumb struck expression.

“Yes Neville, I like you too. Have since 3rd year.” she watched as he took it all in processing it all. She gasped as he suddenly began to hover over her. Both of his hands were caging the sides of her head.

"Well, how about we break the bed in, yeah?"

(A/N: I was so tempted to part 2 you guys but I'm feeling nice today <3)

(Y/n) found herself nodding along mindlessly and without another word, Neville leaned down placing his lips on hers. They both let out soft moans of pleasure, the feeling that they had imagine finally happening right before their eyes. He applied more pressure, gliding his tongue along her bottom lip. She complied, parting her lips letting out a soft gasp at the sensation of their tongues dancing together.

Neville trailed his hand under her skirt, rubbing her clit with his thumb through her panties. He felt his own pants tighten more at the feeling of the large wet spot along her panties. He pulled back, pulling her panties and skirt down with one smooth motion. He felt his mouth salivate at the sight of her slick folds which was caused by him and only him. His eyes trailed up to her bare chest, her shirt long gone in the heat of the moment.

As she reached her shaky hands up to remove his shirt, he helped her by lifting it over his head before standing up to remove his pants and boxers. As he got on his knees, he pulled her by her legs to the edge of the bed. He leaned forward, hot breath fanning on her cunt causing her to let out a small noise of impatience.

"May I?" He asked, rubbing her clit in fascination of the beautiful sight before him.

"Yes! I mean please." she mumbled, hiding her face in her hands. He chuckled before leaning forward, placing a kiss on her mound before diving in. He dragged his tongue all along her folds, paying extra attention to her clit as he delve a finger inside of her. He watched her face turn and change in pleasure, her eyes closed blissfully. He felt himself growing unbearably hard. He was the one causing her pleasure, he was the only one getting to see her in such a vulnerable state.

He added another finger, stroking along the expanse of her thigh with his free hand as she began to buck her hips into his face. He didn't stop her movements, enjoying the new level of closeness he had with her messy cunt. He moaned some, sucking and licking along her folds, tongue coated in the splendid taste of her arousal. She reached her free hand down, gripping at his messy locks before letting out a loud moan, creaming all over his face and fingers. As she slowly began to cease the grinding on his face, he pulled his fingers from her slowly, looking at the milky substance that soaked his fingers. He stuck them in his mouth, eyes rolling back at the taste as he let out a soft groan.

"Taste better than I could've ever imagined. I've been wanting to do that for years." He said before leaning down and kissing her deeply. She let out a moan of approval at the taste of herself, sucking the remanence from his tongue. He smiled at her softly before rubbing his tip along her entrance. "Dirty girl." he purred before sliding into her in one swift motion. They moaned in harmony, her back arching off the bed as he began to thrust into her slowly.

"I-I'm really glad to be doing this with you." she managed to get out, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer. She whimpered, burying her face in his neck as he continued to thrust into her, passion and love conveyed in every thrust.

"Me too petal. Y-you look so pretty like this." he hissed as she squeezed around him unintentionally, only fueling to his already strong pace. He gripped her hips harshly, pistoning himself even deeper into her. She let out a particularly loud moan as his tip rammed into her G-spot, the sensitive spot being brutalized over and over by his massive tip.

"O-oh god Nev! It feels too good! Yes just like that, just like that!" she cried out, tears rolling down her cheeks. She dug her nails into his shoulders deeper causing him to let out another moan. The feeling was painful but it only added to his desire to please her, to get her to release once more. "Oh my god, I'm gonna cum! I-I-I love you! Love you so much Nev, god yes!" she sobbed out, spasming around him.

The profound confession combined with the feeling of her warm velvety walls was enough to make him release. He groaned as he continued to thrust deep into her. "Oh fucking hell! I love you too, princess! Fuck you feel so good, so warm wrapped around me." he let out a small whimper, continue to thrust deep into her before collapsing onto the bed next to her.

Neville pulled the girl close to his chest, rubbing at her back affectionately. She lay her head on his chest, tracing patterns into his skin and playing connect the dots with a particular set of freckles. "That was, that was...wow." he said, letting out a breathless laugh. She giggled, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"Well you know what they say, when in Rome do as the Romans do."

"(Y/n)....we're in Sicily."

#brattysblurbs:neville #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader

65 notes · View notes

link4eva · 3 years

Text

Kiro’s Collection of Sounds Date Translation [CN]

Hey! Just a couple of things before you begin reading. I don’t actually know Chinese so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate and with help from @keliosyfan. Thank you! 💛

I highly recommend reading the prologue to this date which I’ll link here. It gives some context and has some sweet and spicy moments. 😍 There’s also a phone call that comes before the date which I’ll link here.

This translation contains spoilers for a date that has not yet been released to the English server. If you wish to not be spoiled, please don’t look below the cut.

Hope you enjoy~ 💛

*Spoilers below for future content!*

[First Part]

The moment I opened the car door, unlike the smell of the city, fresh air flooded into my nose.

The air seemed to carry the fragrance of grass, and there were also some hints of wet grass.

Several flat brick houses in the distance were scattered on the hillside, and the smoke from the chimneys was also reflected by the sun with a faint golden light.

Ahead is the end of our journey; a village far away from the noise--

Kiro is currently composing a new song. To add more special elements to it, we are here to collect sounds.

Kiro: Miss Chips, come and help!

The flustered tone brought my thoughts back. I looked behind and saw Kiro getting out of the RV with several pieces of recording equipment.

I quickly hugged the microphone boom on his shoulders in my arms. He stabilized his balance, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Kiro: The air here is so good. I picked a good place.

Kiro: We will definitely find the best sound here!

Kiro: Gogogo!

We picked up the hand-drawn map and started to walk towards the village not far away.

MC: Passing through the small forest ahead, you will reach the elderly lady’s house!

As soon as the voice fell, there was a rustling sound in the grass not far away, accompanied by a few animal noises.

I followed the sound, and a big plump goose appeared in the gap between the grass and walk towards us swayingly.

I don’t know who was blocking the other’s way but we both stopped at the same time.

I couldn’t help thinking of the stories of many people being chased by geese, and my feet involuntarily took a step back.

Kiro: We unexpectedly met the rumoured “Country Bully”; Goose Boss!

It flapped its wings, telling us in a high-pitched manner, “Don’t mess with me!”

*Can confirm. Geese, especially Canadian geese, are hella vicious. They will just stand there and 👁👁. If you stare long enough, they’ll start honking and flapping their wings at you. They’re cute though!*

Kiro: Hahaha, it’s really as fierce as the ones in the video.

Kiro looked at Big Goose curiously and didn’t seem to realize the “crisis-ridden” situation at hand. I couldn’t help pulling on his sleeves.

MC: Let’s take a detour, just in case….

Before I could finish, there was another noise coming from the grass.

A few goslings poked their heads out. They are like yellow pompoms, and their eyes are looking at us steadily.

Kiro: Hey~ *The way he said this was so cute!*

He spoke softly, bent down and waved.

Immediately afterwards, the goslings wandered over with wobbly feet, trying to climb on his calf again and again.

Kiro couldn’t help laughing. He put down his luggage, sat down and carefully touched the goose.

Kiro: Hello, future Goose Boss~

[Second Part]

After a while, one of the goslings flapped its wings and struggled to climb to the toe of Kiro’s shoes while making a soft sound.

Kiro: Little guy, do you want me to hug you? *He’s talking so softly here 🥺*

The gosling seemed to understand what he meant by spreading its tiny wings and shaking its body.

Kiro gently held it up, looking at the little life in his palms without blinking.

Kiro: Miss Chips, would you like to come closer?

MC: Ok!

I just took a step when the ‘Goose Boss” in front of me gave a more threatening honk than before, and it rushed towards us with its neck thrust forward.

MC: ….Be careful!

Kiro quickly put down the goose in his hand steadily, but it was too late to dodge the collision of the Big Goose.

The moment the Big Goose pounced on him, he opened his arms and held the Big Goose in his arms.

“Goose Boss” was stunned for a second, then spread its wings again and his long beak approached his cheek.

Kiro smiled without worry. He stretched out his palm to cover the goose’s head and gently pet it.

Kiro: Don’t be afraid, don’t be angry. I won’t hurt you. *Changed some wording*

The Big Goose shrank its neck somewhat resisting and honked a few times in protest, but Kiro still stroked it without letting go.

Kiro: We can be good friends, right?

His voice seemed to have magical power, and the Big Goose gradually quieted down. Its menacing wings also retracted.

It leaned lightly on his shoulder and squinted its eyes in content.

Kiro smiled and hugged the Big Goose and couldn’t help rubbing its white head a few more times.

Suddenly, the young goose at his feet wailed as if hungry, and the Big Goose immediately spread out its wings and jumped out of Kiro’s arms.

It gently combed the feathers on the goslings and then swaggered away with them.

Kiro smiled crookedly and waved his arms.

Kiro: Goodbye, Goose Boss~

Watching them disappear gradually, Kiro stood up and rubbed the mud off of his body.

MC: Unexpectedly, the frightening Big Goose gave in to the “head pats”~ *This came out weird in GT so I changed this part up a bit*

Kiro: Of course, no one can resist “head pats”.

MC: Are you the same?

Kiro walked towards me, lowered his head and shook it.

Kiro: Miss Chips, would you like to try it too?

The curly blond hair swayed gently in the breeze as he shook, seemingly sending me the most sincere invitation.

It looked so soft and vibrant under the sun, I couldn’t help rubbing it a few times.

Kiro: Well….it’s true.

He immediately wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his head into my neck and shoulder.

Kiro: I am like a big goose now. I don’t want to leave anymore.

His warm cheeks were close to my collarbone, and a sudden rush of heat quietly reached the tips of my ears.

I didn’t know if he could hear my accelerating heartbeat. He raised his head and looked at me with pure blue eyes.

The next second, a hand fell on top of my head and rubbed it.

When I didn’t react, a sly smile raised at the corner of his mouth.

Kiro: Now it’s your turn.

He opened his arms and seemed to be waiting for me to pounce into his arms.

MC: ….Let’s hurry up and get to the elderly lady’s house!

I pretended to glare at him and walked forward with a chuckle.

But even if I speed up my pace, it seems that I can’t hide the sound of my heart beating like a drum.

(Cut to elderly lady’s house)

Soon we arrived at elderly lady’s house.

She is the person who is most familiar with the mountains and forests in the entire village. After she learned that we need to collect sounds, she enthusiastically introduced us to many places here.

After we gave her a greeting gift that we had prepared a while back, she took us to the backyard.

Although I heard many things about this lady’s backyard filled with a sea of flowers; after seeing it with my own eyes, it was even better than I had imagined--

Clusters of slender branches are adorned with flowers of different varieties. Large painting-like flowers rippled with the wind, setting off a “wave”.

I closed my eyes and the wonderful sounds around me continued to interweave, entangle, and overlap, as if playing a song.

I turned my head to look at Kiro and found that he had also closed his eyes.

The sunlight gleamed on the side of his face and the corners of his lips curled up as if greedily taking everything in around him.

Against the background of the sea of flowers, all the light and colours are gathering towards him, becoming extremely dazzling.

I don’t know if he felt my gaze but he opened his eyes and looked at me.

Kiro: Miss Chips, are you ready to move into our Flower Sea View Room?

(Cut to room)

We walked into the cabin. Although the space was not large, it was very tidy. Some flower buds had even bloomed, filling the cabin with life.

MC: It’s really nice here and the scenery is pleasant. And along the way, it was very quiet because there were no people around!

MC: This way, you don’t have to worry about being interrupted, and you can do what you want without any restraint.

Kiro: With no restraint?

Before the words finished, he raised a lazy smile and dragged me into his arms. Our center of gravity was thrown off at the same time and we fell on the soft bed.

I stared at Kiro above me in a daze. He pushed some hair on my face away, leaving an itchy feeling.

Kiro: Then I have a lot of things I want to do….

Kiro: You will cooperate with me, right?

His breath was so breathy and soft, it made the tips of my ears turn red instantly.

MC: If it is a reasonable thing….of course I will cooperate.

Kiro: Let’s rest for a while.

He fell on the bed and hugged me tightly, leaving only a small gap for us to breathe freely.

Kiro: Before collecting sounds, let’s be lazy. But not too much~

[Third Part]

After the afternoon nap, Kiro and I walked into the mountains with our equipment and started the official sound-collecting trip.

Seeing the porcelain doll originally placed in the RV hung on his backpack, I couldn’t help but be a little surprised. He seemed to see my doubts and shook his backpack.

Kiro: It is the main character of this song, and I want to take it and set off.

Kiro: I believe that everyone listening will be moved by it. *Changed some wording*

Kiro: Creation is like a kind of communication. The creator just tells us what the character wants and does it another way.

Kiro: So since it is going to find the “fragments” that have been lost, this doll cannot be absent from the process.

Kiro lowered his eyes and gently rubbed the porcelain doll with his fingertips. I couldn’t help holding his hand.

MC: So have you figured out what sound you want to collect?

Kiro: Of course….I’m collecting all of the beautiful sounds.

Kiro: There are always people experiencing unsatisfactory things, I want to use these sounds to awaken the beautiful memories that are not noticed by them.

His earnest words can’t help but remind me that each of his songs seems to bring light and power to everyone.

MC: Then I have to make a contribution and prick up my little ears to find the sound!

Kiro looked at me and raised his brows slightly.

Kiro: Miss Chips, do you know?

Kiro: In fact, in some special circumstances, you can let the sound actively find you.

MC: Really, how do we do that?

Kiro: Such as….

He pressed the corners of his lips, his eyes closed, and then a warm touch pressed against my ears.

Kiro: I am the “sound” that will come to your door. *It took everything in me to keep to the original as much as possible. My mind went many places 😳*

Kiro: Whenever Miss Chips gets bored or misses me, I will be the first thing to pop into your ears. *HIS VOICE IS SO BREATHY AND LOW AAAAAAHHHH*

I couldn’t help but tremble and my heart was beating wildly.

MC: You….!

He tilted his head, smirking like a little devil.

Kiro: I seem to hear a special heartbeat.

I realized that I had accidentally fallen into his “trap” and had to blush and ran forward.

MC: There seems to be a sound in front of me. Let me go and take a look!

(Cut to spring)

Kiro and I walked forward slowly and the sounds from the distance before became clearer and clearer--

The gurgling clear spring faintly made the sound of water colliding with the stones, and the crisp birdsong in the sky also flew near and above.

Kiro put in his earphones and walked forward softly.

He bends down for a while and stretches his hands in front of him; he raises his arms high again as if he is adjusting his posture following the bird’s path.

The sun shines through the gaps in the leaves, through the mist in the forest, and poured a little bit onto him, creating a beautiful aperture.

Looking at Kiro like this, I was subconsciously drawn in.

It seemed that whenever he was immersed in the world of sound, his expression would become extremely pure and profound.

There is a sense of keenness in his eyebrows, but the curvature of the corners of his mouth never fell.

He is very happy.

Thinking of this, I smiled to myself.

Suddenly, he walked up to me, took out the earphones and gently put them in my ears.

Kiro: Listen with earphones; you will find many unexpected nuances.

Following his whispers, the natural sounds around me rushed into my ears like a spring.

The sound in the earphones seems to be completely different from the sound heard by human ears at ordinary times--

The sounds of birds, cicadas, springs, and the wind brushing leaves are more delicate and clearer than usual.

These pure sounds are usually drowned out by the sounds of the city.

Kiro: How do you like it?

MC: I think these sounds have become a song….

Kiro looked into the distance with a serene smile in his eyes.

Kiro: They are original songs created by nature.

Hearing this, I quickly took off one of the earphones and put it in his ear.

MC: The let’s listen for a while~

I leaned against Kiro’s body, quietly feeling the “music” in the earphones.

The sounds around me kept flowing and flowing into my ears. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and imagine the invisible scenes one by one--

The leaves fell on the ground with the wind and the fish flipped in the stream with splashes, water droplets falling from a height….

These sounds automatically filled the picture inside my mind, drawing every detail. I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

Kiro: MC, what are you laughing at?

I opened my eyes and found that he had seemed to have been looking at me the whole time.

MC: I was just imagining the scenes of these sounds and I thought that the experience this time was amazing.

MC: I haven’t finished yet, why are you laughing!

I said, poking at the corner of his raised mouth.

Kiro: Because I found myself thinking the same thing as you.

Kiro: So I can’t help but feel…. very, very happy.

Suddenly, a ray of sunlight seemed to pierce through the clouds and shoot straight down, making the surroundings shine brightly.

Even the porcelain doll hanging on Kiro’s backpack was shining brilliantly.

[Fourth Part]

As it was getting late, Kiro and I were passing by the small pool in the backyard with a “full load” when he suddenly stopped.

MC: What’s happening?

Kiro glanced at the pool next to him, his eyes flickering slightly.

Kiro: MC, do you want to cool down?

Although my clothes weren’t soaked, the sweat from my forehead kept coming.

I looked at the cold pool and couldn’t help nodding.

We put down the equipment in our hands, turned on the hose and walked towards the pool.

He sat down by the pool first and then stretched out his hand to me.

I thought he was going to help me sit down but I didn’t expect him to gently pull me to sit on his lap.

Kiro: There is mud on the ground. Sit with me.

As if guessing what I would do next, he wrapped his arms around my waist and tightened them.

MC: I’m….I’m not afraid of getting dirty.

I blushed and retorted but did not continue to struggle. My feet splashed the water gently.

The water splash sounded continuously and it blended into the surrounding cicadas seamlessly--

This is the sound of summer.

I couldn’t help but lean my head on his shoulder and the porcelain doll was reflected by the moonlight in the corner of my eye.

Thinking of its story, I couldn’t help but feel something in my heart and spoke slowly.

MC: This porcelain doll may represent a lot of people. Despite being “broken”, it felt that it was not a big deal.

MC: But over time, more and more cracks in the body began to make it incomplete….

MC: When I think about it, it must feel empty.

Kiro lowered his head, his breath lightly brushed my cheek.

He looked at me quietly, his eyes seemed to be mixed with inexplicable emotions.

MC: However, I’m not worried about this situation!

MC: Because I have you, Kiro.

MC: Whenever I encounter problems in life and work, I will face them more positively as much as possible.

MC: Because of you, I am not afraid of anything.

I couldn’t help laughing and there was a little splash on my feet.

Kiro: Mm, Miss Chips has me.

Kiro: I hope you are always happy.

His tone was with undeniable certainty and a warm current suddenly surged in my heart.

MC: However, Kiro, you also have me.

MC: I will also make you happy forever and ever.

Kiro looked at me deeply and suddenly widened his eyes slightly as if thinking of something.

Kiro: I seem to have a new idea!

He raised the corners of his mouth and hummed a brisk melody on the spot.

MC: Is this your new song? It seems different from the demo before.

Different from the soothing tune before, the melody this time is light and free; as soft as lying on a cloud.

Kiro: Because MC has changed it.

MC: Eh, how did I change it?

Kiro wrapped his arms around me tightly again and looked at me softly.

Kiro: Before, I wanted to awaken some of the beautiful memories that people hadn’t noticed and retrieve the lost goodness.

Kiro: But there are actually more powerful ideas than this, like a porcelain doll, for example.

Kiro: Even if it doesn’t get its lost fragments back, it can still use the leaves, petals and grass that pass by to complete itself again--

Kiro: It can have a new ending in the future!

Kiro looked straight at me, his eyes full of stars.

Kiro: In fact, we can also re-decorate with the beauty around us and become who we are now.

Kiro: Just like how you have been by my side, I became the current Kiro.

Kiro: When I am happy, you turn it into double happiness. When I am tired, you will be my power bank. When I’m frustrated….

Kiro: You are the reason that I won’t fall down.

Kiro: I accepted all the “fragments” you gave me and became my current self; a better Kiro.

Each word he spoke pulled my heartstrings inadvertently.

MC: Kiro….

Before I finished speaking, there was a sound of water pouring coming from the hose.

I don’t know why the hose was still trickling just now. A large amount of water came gushing out of it and began to dance in the air.

Kiro and I couldn’t avoid getting most of our bodies soaked and he hurriedly reached out to hold the hose in a panic.

Just as Kiro had grasped it, the hose sprayed me.

I instinctively turned my head and threw myself into Kiro’s arms, but my lips brushed against something soft.

I immediately lowered my head and buried it in his neck.

Kiro: What’s wrong? Why is your face suddenly hot?

MC: It’s nothing. It’s just a bit hot.

Suddenly, his chest trembled slightly, as if he has seen through my cover and was trying his best to hide a laugh.

Kiro: Oh~ So that’s the case. Let me cool you down.

As soon as the voice fell, he raised the hose in his hand and pointed it at me at a relatively safe distance.

The jet of water brushed my ears, bringing a comfortable icy coolness.

Kiro: Is it cooler now?

I subconsciously looked away and responded to him in somewhat of a daze.

MC: Okay, much better, thank you!!

Kiro: Now that you’ve said thank you, can I ask for another reward?

MC: ….What do you want?

Kiro: I want Miss Chips to replicate the moment with me before.

He seemed to be deliberately reminding me that he was very close to me, his hot breath blew from the tip of his nose.

I stared at him blankly and finally looked at his lips.

My thoughts flooded like a tide, and my lips suddenly became a little hot.

MC: You are shameless….!

Kiro: No, I’m asking for it honestly.

Seeing him blinking his eyes cheekily, I wanted to laugh.

MC: Well….

I took a deep breath, held his face and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

In the next second, a jet of water splashed my ears--

Kiro: That one just now doesn’t count. Do it again.

MC: Kiro!

As soon as the voice fell, he touched the tip of my nose, his eyes locked onto my face.

Kiro: I want more than that.

His soft voice crept into my ears, leaving traces of tickling.

Kiro: Those lost fragments….

Kiro: Let me fill them in for you.

After he finished speaking, he closed his eyes and my lips were instantly covered by a soft touch. His breath is sweet, like a fruit gummy.

He seemed to pour out all the hidden emotions that he couldn’t express out into this kiss, which was long and uncontrollable.

I also close my eyes and responded softly. In fact, I still have a lot to say.

I want to tell him--

Actually, you have done more for me.

You have brought light to me, and you have made me more courageous to look forward to a better future.

Because of you, I gradually became a better version of myself.

End

The call that comes after the date can be found here!

#mlqc #mr love queens choice #mlqc spoilers #mr love dream date #mldd #mr love #mr love game #mlqc kiro #mr love kiro #mldd kiro #周棋洛 #date translation #I'M SO PROUD OF MC!!! SHOW YOUR MAN SOME LOVING!!!#HE DESERVES IT!!#I really enjoyed this date #It was a perfect mix of all the flavours of Kiro

52 notes · View notes

redwinterroses · 3 years

Note

Could you do something with 3rd Life Joel?

Harley I saw your reply on my 2AM post last night and YES the weird Joel thing IS from your ask. XD I had no idea what to do with this originally because Joel has a lot of good moments but I really wasn't in the mood to do much angsty with him (Joel kind of... exudes anti-angst. He's just so factual about everything and the sarcasm is Off The Charts. I love it.)

But I was getting ready to sleep and randomly scrolled past a post about the myth of Black Shuck and the Wild Hunt and my brain was suddenly possessed by a wild spirit of fanfiction so.... Here. Have this Very Odd piece.

(It works best if you read it in a messy Irish accent, lol.)

(also this may be a lead-up to my Trickster God Scar and Archangel Grian thing someday. We'll see.)

~*~

The Wild Hunt

Listen here, child, and I’ll tell ya a tale: the tale of the Wolf King, and a Wild Hunt.

What? Ya know the story? Sit down and hush—you ain’t heard it the way I’ll tell it. And I should know: I seen him myself.

Would ya call yer old granny a liar? For shame. Sit down, you. Eat yer cookie. Listen.

(don’t pinch yer brother, ya nugget, or no more cookies for you.)

He were born out of flames and fire and smoke, y’see. Born when he died, t’be fair, but born in fire all the same. ‘Twas the Grave Maiden what set his roof aflame, she an’ her undead hoard, and of course the Trickster was there as well—fat lot o’ good that did the Wolf King. But he chose his bed, and he laid in it, and we all reap his dreams thereafter.

So there he were, all newly grey and smoulderin’ and his eyes a’burnt like coals and fire and his belly growlin’ for revenge. But he weren’t the Wolf King, not yet—he were then only a lowly red, with naught but one life—like you or me.

(how’d he start with more than one? Well he were a god, weren’t he? Or he were meant to be. No, I don’t know who choses them things—prob’ly the Archangel but don’t tell the cleric you heard that from me. He don’t like me puttin’ the Angel over the Trickster or the Red King. Clerics don’t have much imagination, y’see.)

So what did he do with his one life? With his one, bloody, beatin’ red heart? “Well,” he says, he says to himself, “I need me an army, if I’m gonna take down the Grave Maiden.”

(Shush, child, don’t spoil the story. Yer brother don’t know how it ends.)

“I need me an army,” says he. “But no one will ally with me, and if they did: I’d kill them anyway—” y’see, he had taste for blood, woke with it in his teeth, like any good wolf. “—I’d kill them anyway, the whole world is my enemy.”

So instead of allies, he went to the wolves. And he went to the great da wolf and the great mam wolf, and he says to them, he says: “Give me some of yer children, to fight in my wars.”

And of course the wolves said that was crazy, they weren’t gonna send their children off with some grey-faced red-lifer on a quest to fight the gods. But the Wolf King—

(No, he weren’t the Wolf King yet. No, I don’t know what he were called before. He didn’t matter before.)

The Wolf King—who wasn’t the Wolf King yet—bared his bloody teeth at them wolves and growled at them and said in the words of wolves that they could send their children with him, or he could take ‘em on his own.

Now, wolves is wise—remember that, nugget—wolves is wise, and wolves is knowing. And they looked at this red in front of them and they were knowing that he weren’t lying. And they looked at this red and they were wise and said “Fine, alright, you can take any of ourn that’ll go with ye.”

“Fair enough,” says he. And wolf pups ain’t so wise and so knowing as their parents—remember that, nugget, parents know more’n you give ‘em grief for—so he left with his army: a passel o’ young, foolish wolves.

(Well. Some might say they was foolish. Some might say they was grand and brave and the best wolves to be born on this earth. Some might say that they can be both. Don’t ya go askin’ the cleric though.)

So there he be, this Wolf King and his pack. His army: his teeth and his claws. And now, on moonless nights, ye can hear ‘em: forever huntin’ for the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and her hordes—she’s his sworn enemy, ya know. But that don’t stop him fightin’ with the other gods too.

He loves to chase the Red King over the mountains—sometimes ya can hear them in the night, howlin’ back and forth at each other, the wolves runnin’ the King and his Hand over the peaks and into the desert dunes. And sometimes the Red King comes after him and the pack too, o’course, but that’s a story for another night and older ears. It’s a bit too sad for cookies by the fire.

(No, love—yer mum’d kill me if I sang the Fall of the Wolf King with yer brother here. He’s too young for that tale.)

He’ll never defeat the Grave Maiden, and he’ll never catch the Red King, and he’ll never burn down all the Flower Kingdom no matter how many times he tries: that’s the nature o’ the gods, y’see, and it’s what makes us happier creatures. ‘Cause they can never finish their stories—they’re trapped in a forever dance of give and take, alliance and war, love and hate. But it’s all real, an’ it’s all true.

And believe me or not but cross my one bleedin’ heart and hope to die (that’s another thing not to repeat in front o’ the cleric, ya hear me, child?): I seen him.

I seen the Wolf King. Just once, but that were enough.

I seen him under the moonlight, racin’ across the moors with his bayin’ army at his back an’ at his front an’ all around him: a sea of white fur, frothin’ about like foam on the surf. All their eyes were burnin’ in the moonlight—I swear it on the Dragon herself. Burnin’ red, they was, like the very flames the Grave Maiden lit. They looked right at me, and I knew—I knew I were his next kill.

(The Wolf King ain’t nice, child. Of course he ain’t nice. He’s mad is what he is. And madmen don’t make for good people to meet when you’re crossing the moors alone of a night, on yer way home from a dance in Crastleton.)

(What do ya mean ya don’t want a sad story? The sad part’s over, child—clearly I didn’t get gobbled up by the Wolf King’s pack, or else who’d be here tellin’ ya this story now, I ask ya? Sit back down with yer sister and listen.)

So I seen him over the crest of the hill, with the moon a silver ha’penny in the sky above and the stars all a-glimmer and a-shinin’ like the lights of the Widow’s crown. And they came down the hill and they swept over me—all them wolves, all glory and soft and fang and hot breath on me face and I closed me eyes—I did!—and just waited for them to gobble me up.

But ya know what happened instead? ‘Course you don’t, that’s why I’m tellin’ ya. Instead o’ teeth and claws and my one life bleedin’ out on the moor… I hears a voice.

No, he didn’t say nothin’, it weren’t words. The Wolf King don’t use human words no more.

But he were laughin’.

Imagine that! Imagine me, not so much older than you, love, alone out on the moor and ringed about by the Wolf King’s army all a’swirlin’ and boundin’ around me: and the Wolf King laughs.

I couldn't help meself, though I'll never know why: but I laughed too.

And then he grabbed me by me arm and we ran.

Oh, my children. If I live to be a thousand I’ll never forget that night.

(Don’t you repeat this to the cleric. Or yer mother. They both think I’m dotty as a bat as it is.)

The Wolf King and his pack run faster than birds can fly—faster than horses, faster than hounds. Faster than I could run, even then: but it didn’t matter. They carried me along, light as a feather and more nimble than a hare. Over the mountain, down the vale, through the ruins of the Flower Kingdom—yes, I’ve seen the Flower Kingdom, but only by moonlight and we didn’t stop, but I heard later that there was fires again so he must have gotten his bite at the Widow and the Soldier when I weren’t lookin’.

And all the while, the whole pack was howlin’. Howlin’ like the front gale of a nor’easter comin’ up the coast: the wolves was howlin’, and the King was howlin’, and Void take me if I weren’t howlin’ too, just like this—

(Oh hush, child, that weren’t even so loud. End’s all, if you ain’t a skittish little creature—get back here and eat another cookie.)

We ran all night, runnin’ and howlin’ and leavin’ fire and fang in our wake. But it couldn’t last forever, as the Wolf King only wanted me runnin’ with him as long as it was sportin’, and even with the wolves carryin’ me along I did get tired. More tired than I’ve ever been before or since, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

So come mornin’, come dawnin’ of the next day’s sun, I find myself back on the road to Crastleton. My dress were in tatters and my feet were a bleedin’ mess of cuts and blisters that never did hurt, my hair tangled with wind knots and wolf hair, and my throat hoarse from howlin’.

And just before he left, him swirlin’ about with a millin’ mess of wolves around his feet, the Wolf King looked at me—looked at me, I tell ya—and gave me a grin that were full of as many teeth as there are leaves in a tree. He tossed me this, and then he were gone—sweeping up and away off the moor like nothing more than a ghost in a dream.

(Here, look at it. What do you think it is? I’ve always said it’s a claw, but what kinda creature has silver claws, I ask you? Give that back to me now, child—it hasn’t left me side in six times so long as you’ve been alive, and it’ll be buried with me if I can get someone other than the cleric to do the job.)

So of course the Wolf King is real! And so the Trickster and the Archangel and the Grave Maiden and the Widow and the Soldier and the Red King and the Hand and all the rest of them. If ye’re very, very good, and very, very lucky, mayhap you’ll even see them one day.

Because of course, they might be gods, child. But in one way, they’re just like you and me: they’ve got but one life—red and bloodied and barin’ their teeth.

And the Wolf King runs forever, chasing after the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and even the Traitor when the mood strikes him. He’ll never catch her, but she’ll never outrun him either. The Wolf King hunts forever.

Now—you finish up that cookie and run outside. I hear your mama callin’ for you. And remember: we don’t tell Mama anything Granny says about the cleric, alrighty?

Alrighty.

Goodnight, children—sleep tight; don’t let the phantoms bite.

And just maybe—if you’re real, real quiet—you might hear the howling.

Howl back.

#i take the 'you could make a religion out of this' meme as a personal challenge #two fics in one day? more likely than you think #the funny part is how it took DAYS to write Impulse's Sweet Dreams fic and this weird thing took less than two hours #such is the writer brain #redwinterwrites #3rd life smp #3rd life fanfiction #smallishbeans #3rd life joel #folklore au

51 notes · View notes

doctorgerth · 4 years

Note

Hiii!!✨ So glad to see you again!☺ I'd like to ask for Shanks, Mihawk or Barto with prompt 15 (if possible said by him) with the theme "secret admirer", please!😍 Fem reader, and if you see it fitting, could you add a bit of nsfw? Thanks so much!! I hope you enjoy writing it! 💕💕✨

❥ “Red” - Valentine’s Day Event Scenario [ 1 / 14 ]

❥ prompt: “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater on Valentine’s Day.”

❥ theme: Secret Admirer

❥ pairing: Shanks x Fem!Reader

❥ warnings: light nsfw, suggestive themes, dirty talk, modern!au

❥ word count: 1.6k

❥ a/n: I had all intentions to make this event a super fluffy one but somehow...this very first one ended up a lil more...steamy than romantic? I hope that’s ok. 😳 it’s shanks, I couldn’t help myself. 🥴 thanks for taking part in the event sweetheart, I hope you enjoy! 💕

You awoke to the smell of breakfast.

The aroma of bacon, cinnamon, and coffee filled your nostrils and, though only gaining consciousness mere seconds ago, your stomach rumbled loudly in hunger. With a deep yawn, you reached your arms high above you and your toes pointed forward as your body stretched to life. You winced a little as you came to realize just how sore you were from last night’s activities.

A smile stretched across your face as images of your passionate night together clouded your brain. Your relationship with Shanks was still so new, so exciting, and he proved to share the similar delirium in the enthusiastic ways he made love to you last night. He was so eager to please, yet undeniably experienced, and you had ultimately lost count just how many times he had brought you to that blissful peak, just as you had forgotten where your body started and ended as you spent the entire night tangled in his ardor. And yet with each fall, you only climbed back up the mountain, faster than your previous trek, eager for more, just as much as him. The two of you were utterly insatiable, only desiring to proclaim your adoration for each other in every physical sense imaginable. So much so, that you had not tired yourselves out until the early hours of the morning, just as the sun began to peak behind the clouds.

Looking over at the clock, you snorted. Breakfast at 1:13 PM. Rising out of bed, the chill of the open air made you shiver, so you quickly reached for the nearest item of clothing that was lazily piled on the floor in front of you. As you slid on the shirt, the intoxicating smell of him had you melting into the soft, cotton fabric. If the scent hadn’t given it away, you knew it had to be his sweater in the way it swallowed you, hanging loosely at your thighs. Looking for your panties was no easy feat, and you laughed out loud as your memory offered you a vivid visual of Shanks slingshotting them across the room with a goofy smile on his face. Even in his absence, he always knew how to make you laugh.

You quietly padded over to the bathroom, and as you passed the mirror, a bright red sticky note caught your attention. You reached for your spare toothbrush, haphazardly squeezed toothpaste across the bristles, and proceeded to brush your teeth as you studied the note.

My dearest, (Name). I believe you stole something of mine…

I’ll forgive you this time, if you’ll be my Valentine?

(It’s my heart, btw)

- Your Secret Admirer

You nearly choked on the toothpaste and your cheeks began to ache as you fought back laughter all the while struggling to finish brushing your teeth. As you splashed water on your face, you shook your head as you struggled to compose yourself. Charming, good in bed, and a hopeless romantic -- how did you ever get so lucky?

You made way to the kitchen with joy in your steps and a bright smile on your face. As you drew closer, you could hear Shanks belting out the lyrics to You’re the Inspiration as he flipped over the bacon, a smile on his lips to match yours. You peeked from behind the corner, shamelessly admiring his exposed torso stretching out from grey sweatpants, along with the subtle red marks that littered the muscles along his toned back.

“Mornin’!” He piped, once aware of your presence, bringing you out of your thoughts, “Hungry? I hope so. I’ve cooked enough for a village.”

“Starving.” You grinned, taking a place at the table to munch on some toast. Another flash of red caught your eye. This time, a bouquet of roses. Shanks caught you observing them and shrugged nonchalantly, “Some rando dropped those off.”

“Hmm.” You stifled a giggle as your fingers delicately toyed with the soft petals.

Shanks placed a chaste kiss atop your head as he laid out your plate in front of you. His eyes remained on you as he sat down with his own plate and began eating. The two of you shared breakfast in comfortable silence, exchanging loving looks and cheesy smiles as you both devoured your meals, regaining your energies. Shanks’ intense stare never faltered, and you swallowed your food hard, “Do I have food on my face?”

He snickered, his warm smile giving you those all too familiar butterflies you were sure you’d never get over, “No. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

He pursed his lips, a hint of red tinting his cheeks.

“Tell me!” You pleaded as you were dying to know what could possibly have Prince Charming himself so flustered.

“It’s just…” His eyes gleamed under the fluorescence of the harsh kitchen light, “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater on Valentine’s Day.”

Your entire body lit aflame at his confession. You were convinced you were painted red from head to toe as every inch of you burned, undoubtedly hot to the touch. He couldn’t hold back his pleased smirk at your reaction, all hints of his own previously flushed embarrassment receding once he realized he had you swooning, and you wanted to bury yourself under the table. This man was simply too powerful. Was he even real?

In an attempt to play it off, you coughed and replied casually, “Oh, is that today?”

He played along, “It would seem so. Why else would some weirdo be so persistent in giving you flowers today? Plus, I think he might have asked you to be his Valentine. Which, poor guy needs an answer soon, or he’ll be crushed…”

That ache in your cheeks returned, “Well, did this weirdo give you any clues as to who he is? I can’t exactly say yes to a stranger.”

Shanks brought his hand up to his face, toying with his facial hair, “Well...he was incredibly handsome. With an impeccable sense of fashion, might I add.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and rose from your chair, a heavy silence following the echo of worn wood scraping against the tiled floor. Shanks’ eyebrows raised in curiosity as you waltzed over to him, tapping his legs to encourage them closer so you could straddle his lap. Just as your arms snaked around his neck, his wrapped around your waist, hand resting shamelessly against your rear.

“Well, for a moment I had thought it was you...but it seems I’m mistaken.” You eyed down at him, offering your own teasing smirk, “Not when you are the epitome of fashion disaster.”

“Hey now! I can clean up when I want. And I got up early to get those flowers for y-!.”

Your head fell back as you laughed maniacally into the open air, “Aha, so it is you!”

He grinned and let his head fall against your chest with a dull thud, defeated, “Damnit. Well, you got me, love. What can I say? I’m smitten for ya.”

You blushed madly yet again, squeaking loudly as he grabbed a fistful of your ass in his large hand, “Agh, Shanks!”

“Mmm, say it again.” He crooned, locks of red hair tickling you as he reached up to trail his lips along the sensitive skin of your neck.

Giggles mixed with light moans escaped your lips as you craned your neck to give him better access, “Yes.”

“Yes what?” He whispered, bewitched by your scent and how incredibly soft your skin felt underneath his admiring lips. Just as his teeth began to graze, hungry to mark you in ways he knew you were crazy for, your words caught him off guard.

“I’ll be your Valentine.”

He jerked away quickly, startling the both of you. You were unsure how much time had passed before your words had clicked in his brain, but when it did, the enamored, child-like smile that bloomed on his face had you like putty in his embrace.

“C’mere.” He pulled you in for a searing kiss; the type that always left you breathless in the aftermath. His firm grip behind your head kept you steady against him, eager lips and tongue dancing with yours, not allowing you to pull away until you were patting him gently, a dire need for air.

Even as you pulled away, focusing on regaining your breath, Shanks continued to spoil you with his affections. You curled into his chest, allowing him to explore you as he wished, “So...what do you have planned for us today, my not-so-secret-admirer?” Your fingers danced along his heaving bare chest in seductive manners, hoping he had taken notice to the way your thighs clamped desperately around his waist.

“Well, I was thinking I’d take you out for a night on the town and then a romantic, candlelit dinner. But the way you’re looking at me right now…” He leaned forward, nose swiping yours, lips hovering just above your own, “I’m thinking I’d rather have you right here, giving you what you really want.” He bent his neck slightly to leave a tender kiss along your jaw.

“However you want.” Followed by your cheek.

“As many times as you want.” Then at last your lips, tugging on your bottom lip for good measure. His hips bucked up against you, and you could see the visible struggle within him to not take you right there in the chair. But you’d be sure to get the last one in.

“Then maybe dinner?” You smirked, though entirely breathless from the tension. You were helplessly enchanted by Shanks in the end.

He paused briefly, eyes flickering up at you mischievously, before crinkling closed with a light breath of laughter.

“Whatever my sweet Valentine wants.”

If you enjoyed this, please be sure to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog! 💕

#doctorgerth #one piece #scenario #Valentine's Day event #prompt event #theme event #romantic #steamy #light ns.fw #shanks #shanks x reader #fem!reader #lirulee

145 notes · View notes

cal-kestis · 4 years

Text

You Come Around And The Armor Falls | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part II of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: You and Din continue your travels across the galaxy. A trip to Tython reveals your path and a stay in Sorgan breaks down Din's barriers. But red-stained visions will lead you both on a dangerous journey you can only hope to survive. (Set after S2) Rating: M (for reasons that will happen eventually) Word Count: 7105 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, cuddles, Din tells you more stories about Grogu and gives you a new nickname A/N: This chapter is very soft :’)

[PART I] // [Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

Tython is a mountainous terrain, a landscape of rocky slopes and bumpy hillsides.

From the viewport of the cockpit, you see a small mountain with six protruding pillars arranged in a circle on top. That must be the place.

The Mandalorian — Din — makes a joke about traveling the last stretch with the windows down as he circles around it, chuckling to himself at some secret memory before landing the ship far from the ancient-looking pillars.

When you exit the ship, he turns to you with his arms outstretched. And when he tells you to grab on, you back away immediately, finally understanding his joke.

“We can definitely walk,” you argue, shaking your head and strutting past him.

“That’ll take too long,” he sighs, gently taking hold of your wrist until you stop in your tracks. “It would be dark by the time we got there.”

“I don’t give two bantha ticks. There’s no way in Malachor that I’m letting you dangle me through the air like a kriffing womp rat.”

“You say the strangest things when you’re angry,” Din chuckles.

“Don’t you have another jetpack?” You demand, ignoring his comment.

“Even if I did, you haven’t been trained in the Rising Phoenix.”

“The what?”

“Just hold on,” he mutters and you imagine his eyes rolling, a grin on his lips. He pulls your hands toward him, wrapping them around his neck. One of his arms rests on your lower back and the other scoops you up behind your knees, cradling you against his chest. Flames burst from his jetpack, launching the pair of you off the ground ungracefully as he adjusts to carrying another person. Your grip tightens around him for dear life and he can’t fight the smile on his lips when he feels you bury your face into his neck as he flies high above the mountains toward the pillars.

“We are never doing that again,” you say once your feet finally touch the ground.

“Come on. It’s not that bad,” he says, holding your shoulders as you regain your balance. “The kid loved it.”

You scoff, taking in the scene around you. The pillars look much taller up close, towering above you from all sides and pointing to the middle of the round platform where a smooth mound lies dead center. It’s covered in dirt save for the few shrubs that managed to blossom from the dry ground.

“It’s a rock,” you say, unimpressed as you circle the half sphere.

“Seeing Stone,” he corrects.

“Fine. It’s a stone and I’m seeing it,” you say, turning your gaze on him with your hands on your hips.

It's strangely fitting to look at him and see yourself reflected in the beskar, warped and wavy from the curves of his armor. His hands fall to his hips, mirroring your posture.

“So, what happens next?”

“I don’t know… exactly,” he admits with a long sigh. “There aren’t any controls. I just sat Grogu on the stone and something… happened. Ahsoka said if he reached out through the Force, someone might hear him. So, sit and reach,” he commands, gently nudging you toward the stone.

“Nonsense Jedi bantha crap,” you grumble under your breath, ripping another short chuckle from his chest. You smile, sitting cross-legged on the stone.

“Focus,” he says, hands on either of your shoulders before he backs away, remembering how last time, the energy field had knocked him back more times than he’d care to admit.

You close your eyes, concentrating on something you don’t quite understand. Your eyes screw shut tightly, wrinkling the skin between your brows, and you frown.

“Nothing happened.”

A leather-clad thumb trails a gentle line down the furrow between your brows, smoothing the wrinkles by your eyes with a gentleness that tugs your heart so fiercely, you almost fall off the stone.

“It will,” he says softly — confidently.

You open one eye to peek at him, watching as he steps away again and nods, fingers itching to pull his hands back to your face. A blue butterfly appears in front of your nose out of nowhere, another landing on your knee. You watch as they flutter around you in silent encouragement, take a deep breath, and softly close your eyes once more. One clammy palm presses into the stone beneath and you refocus your thoughts, reaching out for one thing: Din.

Din Djarin, a kind, gracious man hidden beneath impenetrable armor. How can someone who never shows his face be the most beautiful person you’ve ever known? You’ve never seen his smile, but you hear it in the baritone of his laughter and teasing. You’ve never seen his eyes but can feel them — concerned, curious, observant, warm — underneath a tinted visor. He gives you pieces of himself in ways that can’t be seen, but in moments that spread heat to your cheeks and flutters to your belly. And he takes little pieces of your heart in exchange. After years of surviving on your own, you never imagined you could care so deeply for another person.

Suddenly, a beam of energy encircles you in blue transparent waves and Din takes a few extra steps back just in case, a triumphant smile on his face as he whispers under his breath, “Good girl.”

He paces back and forth as you sit atop the Seeing Stone for nearly an hour, your eyes gently twitching, fingers brushing together, locked in a deep trance.

“Then, Grogu may choose his path.” Ahsoka’s words echo in his memory.

He wonders what your path is, if it will continue to weave with his or if it leads you far away. He doesn’t let himself hope, doesn’t let himself imagine — knowing full well how it broke his heart the last time.

Finally, he feels the powerful energy wane, your body collapsing over the stone, and he bolts to your side.

“I’m fine,” you assure him with a hand on the side of his helmet. “Just took a lot out of me.”

He nods, keeping silent despite his eagerness to hear what you found.

“Din,” you whisper, his name sounding like the lullabies of his childhood on your smiling lips. “I heard him.”

Din imagines a hooded figure leading you by your hand, leaving him behind.

“I heard Grogu,” you clarify and Din’s helmet whips toward you so violently, the way it slices through the wind is practically audible.

“You heard… Grogu?” He stutters quietly.

“Yes!” You squeak excitedly, standing on your feet, your hands holding tight onto his arms for balance. “He had quite a lot to say,” you laugh, and Din lets out a half-sob, half-chuckle, remembering the time his boy babbled nonsense the entire way from Nevarro to Corvus.

“How is he?” Din whispers so quietly he’s not sure if he spoke at all.

“His master says he’s getting stronger each day.” You wish you could see the pride in Din’s eyes. You know it’s there. “And he misses you, a lot.”

Din holds his breath, visibly fighting back tears.

“But he said he’ll see you again soon, just like you promised.”

You leave out the answer you gave to an invitation to join his master. And you leave out Grogu’s parting request: “Please take care of my father. He shouldn’t be alone.” But you tell Din everything else.

Tears drip down his cheeks and you see the wet drops slip out of his helmet and land on his cowl.

“Did you tell him that I—”

“Yes,” you say, a hand on the side of his helmet. “I told him.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his rapidly beating chest — similar to the way you’d done when he'd allowed you onto his ship.

“Thank you,” he says, helmet pressing against the top of your head, his gratitude rumbling through beskar into your skin.

—

vi.

He doesn’t ask you when you plan to leave him.

You don't give any inclination that you plan to stop traveling the galaxy at his side.

So, you find yourselves together on Sorgan, deciding to lay low for a while.

Sorgan is a swampy, humble planet. Nothing like Tatooine. To you, that makes it all the more beautiful.

Din brings you to a small krill farming village, which only adds to the planet’s enchanting charm. Children run through the fields as their laughter wafts in the air, enveloping you in a soothing balm. Men and women kneel over rivers with woven baskets full of the bouncing blue krill, soft smiles etched into their faces as they work.

When the Mandalorian saunters through the village, the children come bounding up to him in hoards, eager grins and grabby fingers boxing him in until he can’t walk any further. You can’t help but laugh as he visibly sighs before kneeling to greet them, accepting a small pink flower from one of the little girls.

Before you had landed, he’d mentioned visiting this village once or twice before. But it’s clear that he hadn’t just passed through. He’d made an impression. You half expect to find a statue of him in the center of the village after seeing the way the children looked up at him with stars in their eyes.

When the children finally leave to play, you follow several steps behind Din, watching his interactions with curious eyes. A beautiful woman with long, raven hair stops him with a gentle smile, her eyes softening with vast yet familiar constellations reflecting in her irises. It seems like there’s a history between Din and the raven-haired woman — something he’d failed to mention, but you try not to dwell on the uncomfortable way the idea squeezes at your heart.

Whatever Din says to the woman is too quiet to hear from this distance, so you settle for reading his body language. Although he speaks to you far more often now, you find you can understand him even without words.

The woman tilts her chin, a soft smile unwavering on her lips until Din shakes his head, the setting sun reflecting off his helmet as it moves right and left. His shoulders slump and the woman’s smile slips off her face as she reaches a sun-kissed hand toward his elbow and squeezes gently. The woman says something, confidence in her eyes, and Din nods.

Finally, Din glances in your direction and you gravitate toward him without instruction.

“This is Omera,” Din tells you.

The woman — Omera — smiles once again. “Hello. We’re happy to have you both as our guests. I’ll prepare your lodging,” she says, turning on her heel to leave the two of you alone.

“Thank you,” Din says.

When Omera is out of earshot, you can’t keep the tinge of jealousy out of your voice when you say, “She seems nice.”

“She and this village were very kind to us when Grogu and I came here before. We can trust her.”

You nod, more curious to know what he’d just said to the woman.

“Did you tell her about Grogu?” You ask, wondering if you made accurate observations.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Yes.”

You see his shoulders slump again. Reliving the goodbye is never easy for him.

“It’ll be dark soon,” he says, changing the subject and wordlessly handing you the pink flower one of the children had given him earlier. When you don't take it immediately, he decides to tuck it behind your ear as you do with your pencil, sending a wave of heat down your neck. (Later, when you’re alone, you press the flower between the pages of your drawing pad for safekeeping.)

“Looks like they’re pitching a fire. Hope you like krill.”

Dinner moves at a slow, peaceful pace, accompanied by friendly voices of storytelling strangers. They regale you with the fantastical tale of the legendary Mandalorian and the fearless former Rebel shock trooper who saved them from a band of pirates and a destructive Walker that stood tall above the trees — the two heroes who not only restored harmony but showed this village how to be brave and how to fight for themselves. You feel at ease sipping on spotchka, listening to stories honoring your friends.

But as the thought passes through your mind, ‘friend’ suddenly becomes the strangest word. It fits Cara Dune, the courageous marshal who you’d met several times on Nevarro, the woman you’d shared drinks and laughs with at cantinas, the warrior you’d trust with your life and Din’s life. But Din, your ‘friend’? The word seems to fall short.

After dinner, the villagers retire to their beds one after the other — leaving you and Din at the fire.

Din looks around at all the families, watching as one father carries his son on his back and a mother cradles a swaddled infant in her arms. He sees Omera and her daughter, Winta, in the distance — their hands joined and swinging between them as the little girl skips toward their humble home.

He clenches and unclenches his fists, the leather gloves silently screeching as the material sticks and peels away from itself again and again. His brows pinch together as he stares down at empty hands — empty hands that had foolishly allowed themselves to get used to holding someone else.

An image pierces his memory: three tiny green claws wrapped around his yellow-tipped thumb.

He blinks, blurry vision refocusing on his hands. Empty.

You watch him intently, feeling sadness roll off of him in waves, drawing you in until you’re submerged just as deep, crestfallen on his ocean floor.

When the heart breaks, no amount of bacta can heal it. You can’t cauterize the lacerations carved inside of him or stitch the pieces together. But you can let your scarred heart bleed and beat next to his, until the heavy thud, thud, thud, thud evolves into the resilient rhythm of a somber symphony only the two of you know.

He exhales. It’s a weary, crackling sound behind his helmet.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice,” he admits quietly like he’s ashamed.

“For him? For Grogu?” You ask.

He nods, the motion almost imperceptible if not for the glint of firelight that flashes off beskar.

“I know you did. Grogu is doing well. He told me himself,” you whisper, opening his clenched fist and molding your fingers between his. “You’re a good man.”

For a moment, the moons and stars disappear at the same time, enveloping you both in inky darkness save for the angry red flames that reflect against his armor. He decides not to speak, not right away, allowing a shivering silence to shroud him as he weighs his next words. The late evening decrescendos into a soft lull of the crackling fire, wind-bristled branches, and a familiar thud, thud, thud, thud.

“Sometimes,” his modulated voice finally rumbles. The dark window of his visor anchors itself on the way your hand completely fills one of his. Then he looks away, beyond the trees, beyond you. “I wonder if that’s true.”

You try to piece the words together yourself, try to make sense of him — how he can’t see what you can see as clearly as the roaring fire.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I was scared to take you to Tython,” he admits.

“Because of what happened with Grogu the last time? You defeated Gideon. The Dark Troopers are gone, nothing was going to happen—”

“Not because of that,” he interrupts, taking a breath. “Because I… don’t want you to leave. And I feel selfish because you should be able to go — to train.”

Your heart beats faster at his admission, your mind mulling over his words to make sure you heard them right. A shaking hand reaches for his helmet, pulling his visor to face you.

“Di— Mando,” you whisper, taking a quick glance at the empty village. “I already chose my path at the Seeing Stone. I’m not leaving,” you reveal to him for the first time. You do everything you can to make him believe your words, squeezing his hand tighter, attempting to send your feelings through your skin into him.

“It isn’t right. You should train. You’re so powerful,” he says, almost to himself.

“No, I’m staying with you. And I know it’s right,” you declare, staring into the T-shaped visor where his eyes are. “You said Grogu knew where he was meant to be when he was young. He trained even before he met you. Letting him continue was the right thing to do for him. You did the right thing,” you argue. “But I didn’t go to some fancy Jedi temple. When I was a kid, all I wanted was... to not be alone anymore. And now, I’m not. This is where I’m meant to be.”

You watch as flames dance across his helmet, his body still as he stays silent. Then, suddenly, your body feels warmer than the crackling fire, encircled in his tight embrace. You stay wrapped together like that for several minutes, limbs wound around each other like vines. You almost fall asleep on his shoulder from the peaceful sound of his breath so close to your ear.

“Come on,” he says, the crown of his helmet now resting against your forehead. He gently detaches you from his body as he stands, extending his hand for you to take once again. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

With your hands joined, gently swinging between your bodies, the two of you walk side by side to your shared lodging.

The hut is small and quaint, sparse in decoration but plentiful in necessity. A bed for two sits nestled in the corner of the single room, the soft orange glow of a lamplight casting hazy, billowing shadows against the wall. Din stands on the threshold, shifting his weight between his feet as you explore the room, your fingers gliding across the soft fabric on the bed.

“All clear, Mando. The bed doesn’t bite,” you tease him, his head shaking — probably rolling his eyes — as he closes the door behind him.

“I’ll take the floor,” he says, removing his cape and laying it on the ground.

“That’s ridiculous,” you argue, rolling your eyes this time. “We came to Sorgan to relax. You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“I’ve done worse,” he shrugs. You don’t doubt it.

“I don’t care. There’s plenty of space for both of us. If you don’t sleep on the bed, neither will I,” you resolve, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Who’s being ridiculous now?” He says, a hand on his hip as he stares you down. When you don’t relent, he sighs. “Fine.”

You practically bounce with delight, removing your socks and dusting off your clothes before diving under the plush covers. A breathy moan escapes your lips as your body sinks into the mattress and it freezes him in place on the other side of the room.

“Oh, stars. This is heaven,” you hum.

Din approaches the bed like it’s a rancor crouching in wait to devour him whole. His knee hardly touches the top of the mattress before you’re sitting up with another accusatory glare.

“You’re going to sleep in your armor?” You question incredulously.

He doesn’t want to argue in circles with you again, worried the other villagers may be able to hear, so he sits on the edge of the bed and removes each plate of beskar one by one, save for his helmet. He’s left in a long-sleeved top, dark pants, and woolen socks — his hands the only skin on display after removing his gloves.

He turns on the mattress, his feet resting beside yours as he lays his helmet down on a squishy pillow, facing your curious gaze once more.

“When was the last time someone saw your face?” You whisper.

“Not long ago,” he answers truthfully. “The child.”

“And your Creed?”

“He meant more.”

You nod, understanding full well that the love for another being can easily outweigh any rule or law or virtue or doctrine or belief or obligation.

You tuck your hand beneath your pillow, squinting your eyes as if trying to see through the panes of his helmet. You wonder, not for the first time, what he looks like when he rolls his eyes or laughs or smirks. You wonder if his eyes soften when he looks at you the way you know your eyes do whenever he’s near... if a dimple appears in his cheek just for you. Your knees bend slightly, touching his legs.

“What happens if you take off your helmet?”

He doesn’t respond right away, as if looking for the correct answer.

“I used to think I could never put it back on,” he says, pain in his voice as the word ‘traitor’ echoes in his mind. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

You hum in acknowledgment, submerging the room into a long gap of silence, your eyes flitting across his covered face, your own features reflected in the silver steel. He watches as you close your eyes and wonders for a moment if you’ve decided to finally sleep. But then, your hand reaches in the direction of the open flame across the room, and with a flick of your wrist, the lamplight extinguishes, enveloping the room in complete darkness.

“You’re good at that,” he comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“It comes in handy,” you say, the fabric beneath your shoulder rustling as you shrug.

The room is quiet again, the steady sound of soft breathing filling the small space between your bodies.

“Din?” You whisper.

His eyes close at the sound of his name spoken so delicately by your lips. “Hmm.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he answers, not missing a beat.

“I won’t look, I promise. I can’t even see. I just,” you pant as if speaking alone has made you breathless. “I can’t imagine sleeping with a helmet on is all that comfortable. You can take it off. You can trust me.”

Your hand trembles as it blindly reaches for the side of his helmet but his hand immediately traps you there against the beskar. You fear you’ve taken it too far when he pushes your hand back toward your side of the bed.

But then you hear it, the sound of air releasing, a puff of unrestrained breath, metal gently hitting the floor. And then his hand is holding yours again and placing it on his cheek, touching his skin for the first time. His eyelashes flutter against the side of your fingers, closing shut as your other hand tentatively explores the rest of his face.

He’s warm. Soft and rough at the same time. His entire weight leans into your palm and you think, this must be what it feels like to hold the entire universe.

“I never thought—” he suddenly whispers, a jagged inhale, a shaky exhale, his breath touching your lips. “After I lost the kid,” he continues, his thumb caressing your hand on his cheek. “I never thought I’d feel this again.”

You wonder what he means by ‘this.’ Touch? Tenderness? Warmth? Care? Or something much, much deeper?

You desperately wish you could see how he looks in this moment, feeling another person’s skin against his own after depriving himself for so long. Your fingers run across wrinkles and scars and you wonder, not for the first time, how long he’s had to carry these marks and stories all on his own. Your thumb finds the bridge of his nose, trailing down the strong curve until below it, a dense smattering of hair scratches at your skin.

“A mustache?” You ask, amused.

You hear his smile widen when he chuckles. “My father had one.”

It makes your heart ache, remembering the story he told you about his home planet, how his parents had sacrificed their lives to keep him safe. How the siege built his distrust of droids and redirected his faith to the Mandalorians who lifted him out of devastating danger. As you trace his mustache with reverence, you wonder what parts of his mother he wears like armor.

Below that, your thumb drags along the plush outline of his lower lip, from one corner to the other. You swear they’re lifted — at least just slightly. As you move your fingers across his cheeks, you find the shallow dip of a dimple and you smile so big he must be able to see it. His jaw is sharp and prickly, freshly shaved probably the day before.

As he leans heavily into your hand, you think to yourself how much you want to help carry this weight for him.

“Can you say something?” You ask quietly, your hands still touching his skin, careful not to disturb the bubble you’re in.

“What do you want me to say?” He whispers.

“Hmm,” you respond, enjoying the feeling of his voice rumbling through your hand. “Anything. I just like the way you sound.”

For a second, you think you feel his lips press against your palm.

“Cuyan,” he says, the foreign word tickling your skin.

“What language is that?”

“It’s the tongue of my people: Mando’a,” he explains, his cheek stretching upward under your hand. “It’s not spoken much anymore.”

“It sounds beautiful. What does ‘cuyan’ mean?”

His hand falls into your hair, brushing the strands with his fingers. “It means survivor.”

“Like you,” you smile.

“And you.”

You smile wider.

“Stars, please keep talking,” you plead, despite the peaceful yawn slipping from your lips. Your hand on his face wraps around his back instead, holding him like a pillow. Nestling your head over his heart, you feel the strong thud, thud, thud, thud against your ear — your own heartbeat starting to synchronize with his. His hand continues combing through your hair, his chest rumbling with a gentle chuckle.

“Kotep means brave,” he whispers, his voice weaving through the hairs at the crown of your head. “I remember the time I introduced you to Cara Dune. We were in a rush but she was taking her time pummeling someone into the dirt. And you rolled your eyes, took the blaster from her belt, set it to stun, and shot him. Then, you smiled, shook Cara’s hand, and said ‘Nice to meet you.’”

“Kotep,” you mumble, half-awake. “Maybe more stupid than kotep.”

“Sometimes, they’re one and the same,” he chuckles, making your entangled bodies shake. “Mirdala means clever. Like when you snuck onto my ship and convinced me to let you join my crew even though I wasn't looking for one. Or when you rewired the jammers so that our ship could scramble Imperial and New Republic codes.”

“Kotyc means strong. When you saved me from that rancor, I was terrified,” he whispers. He tilts his head down, his lips pressing against your hair as he listens to your slow breathing. You’re fast asleep, arms still wound loosely around him, cheek pressed against his chest. But he keeps talking. “Not of the rancor or even of you. You’re so strong, so powerful, just like the kid. I was terrified I’d have to let you go too. Then, you said you want to stay. And I felt so guilty because I was so relieved. But I want you to stay too, truly, for as long as you want, ner kar’ta. Ner kar’ta means my heart.”

He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Before I met the kid... before I met you, ner kar’ta… I never thought I’d get to have this, whatever this is,” he whispers into your skin. “That was a past life. This is heaven.”

—

vii.

The few nights you stay in Sorgan give you ample time to study his features in the dark, etching them into your mind the way you would on paper.

Every night after the first, he whispers words like cuyan, kotep, mirdala, and kotyc as you fall asleep — some you remember and some you don’t.

When you leave Sorgan, you notice he wears his helmet less. Not outside of the safety of darkness and certainly not outside of the ship. But in quiet, shadowy moments and dim corners of your metal home — he feels comfortable enough to be without it.

He’s giving you a portion of what he knows he can’t fully give to you... not yet. But it’s like he’s inviting you, waiting for your hand to find its place on his cheek once again.

When you retire to your quarters each night, he powers off the lights and whispers, “Good night, ner kar’ta,” faint enough to make you wonder if he means for you to hear it. Ner kar’ta. It’s a beautiful phrase, one from his people’s language. He’d shared it with you that first night he let you know him, feel his skin with its scars and soft expanses. But for the life of you, you can’t remember if he taught you what ner kar’ta means. (You curse that comfortable bed and his warm arms for tempting you to sleep so easily.) The way he says ner kar’ta each time is like a sanctified prayer and you desperately want to know what Divinity has that he wants.

Sleep had never come easy to you before. Not in your years of lonely nights surrounded by danger on Tatooine. Before you met Din, nightmares had been enemies you kept close like friends. Not by your own will, of course.

But nightmares quickly became scarce foes. Living with Din made you feel safe. He’s a protector, but more than that — he shows you the strength you have inside you like a mirror, his bravery reflected in your eyes. Kotep means brave. You remember that.

But as you feel yourself growing more connected to your powers, the Force, your dreams seem more vivid, more rooted in reality, peculiar prophecies. And nightmares feel like omens.

You have a recurring horror story that plays in your mind in fragmented flashes, pieces you’re too scared to dwell on in the clear light of day for fear they may form a mosaic of your own image, cast away in the vast expanse of space. Alone. Again.

Tonight, the nightmare visits you and bathes your thoughts in red. You don't recognize the dreamscape from your travels with your Mandalorian, you only see the way it paints everything in a bloody tint and sets your skin on fire. Then, you see Din — hear him yell in agony under the attack of an invisible enemy. But you’re rooted to the ground, your limbs morphing into distorted vines and branches, dry screams ripping through your throat until you can’t make a sound.

“Din!” You gasp, waking up in a cold sweat in your darkened quarters, the desperate sound of your voice echoing through the ship.

“What’s wrong?” Din sprints in, panting as he skids to a stop. He turns on the lights to reveal himself in only his underclothes and helmet, head snapping back and forth as he examines the scene. When nothing seems out of place, his shoulders relax. “Are you okay?”

Your chest heaves as you attempt to steady your breath, not realizing tears are rolling down your face until he comes forward to wipe one from your cheek.

“It was just a dream,” you say, not fully believing your words. “But it felt so real.”

The edge of your thin mattress sinks at the same time you feel his bare hand brush a sweat-slicked strand of hair out of your face. His fingers comb through your hair and settle at the base of your head before he pulls your face into his soft chest. The steady beating of his heart under your cheek immediately helps yours slow down.

“I’m here. You’re safe,” he says, and all you can do is fist your hand in his shirt and hold onto him, anchor yourself in his solid body because it’s not you that you worry about. Not this time. But you don't tell him about the nightmare or the fragments that have been haunting you the past few days. You just listen to the way he breathes in through his nose and sighs through his lips.

“Scoot over,” he whispers, untangling himself from your arms. You sniffle and do as he asks, giving him room to settle under your covers and wrap his arm around your back so you can use his chest as a pillow. “Do you mind getting the lights?”

You chuckle, closing your eyes and levitating the pencil on your drawing pad until it hits the controls for the lights and blankets the room in darkness. Almost immediately, you hear the hiss of Din’s helmet and the light thud of it hitting the floor before you feel his soft hair touching the top of your head.

He holds you, his thumb stroking the skin on your arm, his breaths coming out as warm puffs against your hair. And like those nights in Sorgan, you let your fingers draw smooth shapes into his skin and rest over his heart.

“Do you want to hear about the time I took Grogu to school?” He asks quietly, indulging you with the deep rumble of his rich voice.

You tilt your face upward and try to see his smile in the pitch black, nodding your head so his shirt beneath your cheek rubs against his chest. You want to hear every story about his past as long as he says it with his voice and his hands on your skin.

“I was on Nevarro, just passing through for repairs. And of course, I ended up on a mission at an Imperial base,” he chuckles, sending vibrations through you.

“Of course,” you laugh with him.

“I couldn’t take the kid with me. Karga and Dune brought me to a school, so I left him there for a while.” Your hand raises to his cheek so you can feel that pull of his smile under your fingers. “Mid-mission, I have to bolt from the base, grab my ship, and pick up the kid on the way. I’m in a rush and the educator droid tries to keep me, saying my son stole some poor boy’s snacks. I don’t have any time for the droid to explain more and just mumble sorry and grab the kid. He’s got little blue crumbs all over his cloak and a silver packet of cookies. He ate so much he got sick on the ship when I flew back to help the others near the base.”

You feel Din shake his head, laughing at the memory.

“I had to let him wear one of my tunics while I washed up his clothes. I even tried sewing up the bottom so it would protect his feet better,” he snickers. “Not the best stitching job I’ve done.”

You don't think your heart has ever felt so full and large and ready to burst. You love listening to him talk about Grogu, the fondness in his voice tugging you impossibly closer to him until the two of you blend into one.

“He whined for hours when he finished those cookies.” He muses, lifting one of your hands and drawing lines on your palm with the tip of his finger. “Such a little womp rat.”

“Wonder where he got it from,” you tease, your voice still scratchy from tears but laughing in genuine amusement.

He scoffs, the mirth never leaving his honeyed voice. “I only ever taught him strength, honor, and loyalty.”

“Oh, I’m sure. This is the Way,” you say, attempting to imitate his deep baritone.

“You really like to give me a hard time, don’t you?” He teases.

“Ah,” you grin. “The Jawa calls the Ewok short.”

He stills before bursting into a full-bodied laugh. “I’ve never heard that one before,” he gasps between wheezes.

You laugh with him, your shaking bodies gradually calming into a slow vibration of charged energy. You can’t see it but you feel his eyes looking into yours when his breaths settle down, his thumb now tracing over the slope of your lip.

“Sleep, ner kar’ta,” he says, stroking his fingers over your hair once more. And you desperately want to ask what it means, why he calls you this beautiful phrase. But soon enough, your eyes are closed and he kisses your head before letting sleep take him as well.

When he wakes in the early hours of the morning, your quarters still mostly covered in the ship’s shadows, he gently slides himself out of your hold and tucks you deeper under the covers, before putting his helmet back on and walking to the fresher.

On his way out of your room, he notices a sliver of light peeking through the doorway and a splash of pink catches his eyes. He looks down to find your open drawing pad sitting on your dresser, the pink flower he gave you on Sorgan pressed and dried onto one page.

And on the page beside it is a rough charcoal portrait of a man that looks vaguely like him. The sketched face shares the hooked curve of his nose, a mustache below it covering his lips, and wavy locks atop his head. But the other features are empty, blanks waiting patiently to be filled in once you fully grasp the picture.

Beside the off-white space where his eyes should be, he sees a note in your scribbled handwriting that reads:

Eye color?

He takes the pencil lying between the stitched binding of the booklet and gives you another piece of himself, writing below your question:

Brown.

—

viii.

When you wake, you half expect to find your cheek still pressed to a warm, beating chest, strong arms wrapped around your body, perhaps even a charming snore blowing the hair at the top of your head. Instead, when you open your eyes, the space beside you is cold and empty, and you wonder if it had all been a fantasy you’d conjured to erase the nightmare that had plagued you moments before.

But when you slip out of bed and pad over to your door, you spot your drawing pad which you’d left open. And below the question you’d scrawled across the page, you find his answer and can finally put a color to his eyes — a rich, warm, melting hue that fits his gaze so perfectly you think there must be a Maker putting these pieces into motion.

You grab the pencil from the booklet, place it behind your ear, and go to find him.

Leaving your quarters, the ship feels unusually frigid and you hold your arms tightly to retain the residual warmth from the bed covers.

When you walk into the cockpit, you half expect to find Din in his plainclothes again, giving you a chance to wrap your arms around his waist and whisper “good morning” into the soft planes of his chest without his beskar blocking the way. Instead, you find him fully-armored, crouched over with his elbows on his knees, helmet hung low and held between gloved hands. In front of him, a holoprojector loops a message from a pale, uniformed woman.

“Din Djarin,” the grave voice addresses him by his full name, sending shivers down your spine. “Yes, I know exactly who you are. If you don’t want the entire galaxy to put a name to your face, you will help me devise a plan to release Moff Gideon from the New Republic detainment facility. We will send you coordinates to an Imperial base shortly.”

The blue projection vanishes briefly before starting again in a haunting cycle.

“Din,” you whisper, startling him out of his stupor, his helmet whipping around as if ready to take aim and fire. You walk toward him slowly, kneel in front of him with a gentle hand on his knee, and face the holoprojector. “Who is that? How do they know your name?”

He sighs, his helmet falling into his hands once more.

“When Gideon took the kid, I had to make a choice,” he says, voice rough and ragged despite the hours of restful sleep he got the night before. “I snuck into an Imperial rhydonium refinery on Morak to get Gideon’s coordinates from a data terminal. But the terminal required a facial scan.”

“They have your face in Imperial data archives,” you gasp, the understanding poisoning your veins and causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

“They have everything in the archives,” he corrects, his modulated voice distant and detached. “And they’re about to take it all away.”

“No,” you whisper. Standing up suddenly, anger washes over you at his quick defeat. “No! I won’t let them. There must be something we can do.”

“I won’t free Gideon,” Din says, stern and almost frightening in his resolve.

“I’m not saying we break him out,” you respond, hands up in defense. “But there’s always more than one way to skin a womp rat.”

Your heavy footsteps echo in the small space of the cockpit as you pace back and forth. Din’s helmet follows you slowly as you walk in circles and he sees the gears turning in your mind. You pull the pencil behind your ear towards your lips and gnaw at it with your teeth, an action he quickly learned meant not to talk to you lest your brewing idea slips from your skull. The holoprojector repeats its threat over and over, the voice grating against the metal walls until it begins to sound like an endless shriek. And with a roar of frustration, your clenched fist comes flying down onto the holoprojector until the image fizzles away.

“I’ve got it.”

The plan goes as follows: Send the Mandalorian to the Imperial base under the guise of full cooperation and stall the holoprojector Imp for as long as possible. This will give you enough time to sneak in through an air vent (“Or… something.” “Or something?” “Yes, Mando. Whatever’s convenient at that moment!”), find a terminal, and hack the system, wiping every Imperial archive of Din Djarin.

“That’s a horrible plan,” he says.

“It’s not ‘horrible,’” you argue.

“It’s dangerous.”

“You got something better?” You challenge.

His long sigh is enough of an answer.

“So, we’re doing it then,” you say, suddenly a million times more nervous than when you’d laid out your blueprint for him. “Punch in those coordinates. Let’s go pay a visit to some Imps.” [READ PART III]

End Notes: Please support this story with a reblog or comment in the replies! I’d love to know what you think of it so far. :) (Also, I know the Seeing Stone is more of a beacon but let's just say you can talk to other force-sensitives if you meditate deep enough.) Btw, zoom into the moodboard to see the sketch of Din. Should I upload the full size? Mando’a Glossary: Cuyan = survivor [koo-YAHN] Kotep = brave [KOH-tehp] Mirdala = clever [MEER-dah-lah] Kotyc = strong [koh-TEESH] Ner kar’ta = My heart (kar’ta = heart [kah-ROH-ta]; ner = my [nair]) Star Wars slang: The Jawa calls the Ewok short = When somebody comments on or accuses someone else of a fault which the accuser shares.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #taole #mine*

74 notes · View notes