#maybe if I start crying I can collect enough tears to use for water | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atozphantomsquadron · 2 years ago

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Chapter Eight: Separation

April 3rd

I think I have this time dilation down. Even though Gabe believes the folks at the Ranch are safe, I still worry. Maybe it’s just my nature to worry about people I care about.

Gabe’s lesson was fairly short, simply a basic overview of what to expect in Hell and how to navigate. I hope the guides he’s set up are going to know enough not to mistake me for a soul, though. What matters more to me right now, though, is that the lesson is over and this allows me and William to continue about our business, which in this case means our postponed swim in Avalon’s crystal-clear lake.

We find it’s really hard to get started with our plans. For starters, the lake is beautiful. Wildlife and plants ring it in a constant swath of natural beauty, enhanced just a touch by the natural magic of the place. The sunlight, forming into what’s going to be a dazzling sunset, shimmers along the surface of the water, glowing and bathing us in its light. It’s very hard to violate this stillness.

Another thing that’s not helping is that right now we can’t seem to let each other go. We’ve become very clingy … desperately so. It’s hard to separate myself from William, from his warmth, his embrace, his scent. It’s all very comforting, in a way that’s hard to quantify.

I feel like I’m about to cry, just from how much I’ll miss him. William notices this, and turns my face up to meet his.

What do you say to one of the most important people in your life before taking a trip into danger?

William finds the words for me. “Don’t worry, Alanna. We’ll be all right. While you’re down there, you focus on your dad, focus on finding him and bringing him home.”

I clutch tighter to William. “I’m scared.”

He buries his face in my hair. “I am, too. Scared for you. Scared for everyone.”

I reach a hand up to his cheek while turning my face up to see his. “If this succeeds, though … if I can find him, if I can get him out of there, then there’s absolutely nothing we can’t do. And that includes taking the country back.”

It’s always a little awkward to do because he’s so tall, but I jump up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and bring my face up to his. “Thank you for believing in me … and for caring.” The words are followed by a loving kiss. His arms tighten around my waist, and mine tighten around his shoulders.

This is the eternity I want.

I slide back down to the ground and smile up at him. “Come on, let’s swim.” I prevent any protest on his end by quickly stripping to my underwear and running into the clear lake, letting my wings out to help me stroke away from the shoreline. I hear a loud splash behind me, which tells me he’s in the water as well, and slow down to allow him to catch up. When he does, we resume our embrace from on dry land, simply reveling in each other’s company.

After a few minutes, though, I’m aware of us being watched. My eyes reluctantly tear away from William to scan the shore, only to find no one there. My glance shifts to the center of the lake, and that’s when I’m startled by the appearance of the top of someone’s head.

Only it’s huge … and very feminine.

The eyes glow with a pale blue light. The flesh seems almost like water itself. Both of us splash away quickly from the figure as the head begins lifting itself out of the water, revealing a very large woman’s head wearing a crown of ice, staring right at us.

She smiles and her mouth opens to speak. “Please, do not let me interrupt. Continue.”

I’m lucky not to have skittered back to the shore, collected my clothes, and gone running, but something about this woman tells me that’s unnecessary. A response would probably be polite, though. “If it’s all the same, we probably shouldn’t. Are we disturbing you?”

She laughs and continues to rise out of the water. Once she’s waist-high out of the water, it’s difficult to stay in her presence just because of the appearance of her, this giant woman who would be about nine of William, formed from water apparently …

… and also very obviously naked. William’s blushing and doing his best to turn away from the sight. It’s kind of cute, actually.

“I never mind this sort of disturbance.” She focuses her eyes on me. “You are Alanna Sharpe, am I right?”

I nod. “Please forgive us, this lake is just so perfect …”

“Oh please, I have no trouble with you being here. If I did, you would certainly know.” She’s laughing again, a very gentle chuckle. I realize she’s laughing at William’s desperate attempt to turn away. “You must be William White Bear. Please, there is no need for that. This is my only form of presence. Everyone else is used to it.”

William turns back around, and I can still clearly see his discomfort. Now I can’t help but laugh. She’s laughing too.

“I apologize, I am being rude. Here I know your names, and you know not mine.” The lady bows deeply, still smiling. “I am known by many names throughout history, but you may know me as the Lady.”

Okay, a giant lady … is standing in a lake. Way too Arthurian, but then again I’m in Avalon, so what did I expect? “How do you know us?”

“Gabe asked me to come fetch you, but before then I knew of you. You see, you know my son.” The Lady motions to the shoreline. We turn around to notice that a familiar figure is appearing in the dying light of the afternoon.

Uncle Cyrus waves to us. “Alanna! William! We’re getting dinner in a second.”

The Lady melts into the lake quickly. In a flash, a smaller version of her is rising up along the shore, embracing Uncle Cyrus. William leads the way as we swim back over, arising on the shore and reclaiming our clothes.

Uncle Cyrus releases the hug the Lady is giving him. “I see you guys met Mom.” He smiles widely. As we stand and watch, it looks like he’s actually growing a little bit. “She’s going to help you tomorrow when you leave, Alanna, so Gabe figured you should get used to her.”

The Lady turns to me and smiles like Uncle Cyrus … I see where he got his face from. At the normal size of a human being, the Lady has a very slender build, ageless face, and not a single sign of imperfection. She’s the perfect woman, rendered as an ice sculpture. “I live through the waterways around the world, so most entrances and exits from this place pass through me.”

I think I can handle that, at least. “Will you be coming to dinner?”

She sighs with a slightly wan expression on her face, and that’s when I notice that her body is incomplete, and one leg is still in the water. “Sadly, I may only be present in Avalon’s bodies of water. Were I to go up on land, I would surely perish, and with me would die Avalon.”

That makes me sad for some reason. “I understand. We’ll be ready in the morning.”

She smiles and retreats back into the lake, melting into the shimmering sunset reflection. I’m just pulling my shirt back on when I hear William’s question. “The Lady of the Lake is your mom?”

Uncle Cyrus nods. “Deep secret. Don’t let anyone else know about it, I just want the others to think of me as a regular guy.”

I smirk. “Not sure that’s possible. Are we going to find out your dad’s Merlin, too?’

“Now that you mention it …”

Our laughter kills this conversation, as we make our way to where the others wait for us, the steaming aromas of Aunt Kitty’s cooking beckoning us closer.

May 20th

Last night was tough. The dinner was wonderful, as I’ve come to expect from Aunt Kitty’s cooking, but it was just the raw emotions that made it difficult.

My friends are all worried about me, worried that I won’t return from this mission. Not that I can blame them, but I’d really appreciate some positive thinking, especially from those who are closest to me. I sit here now, as the sunrise is barely above the horizon, and look at these friends I’ll be leaving behind, and it only makes this task that much more difficult.

Michi was a wreck. It made me just as bad, since we’re more like sisters than best friends, but I have to be strong for her. She lies next to the barely glowing embers of our magical fire, huddled close to Fahaian, who has an arm lightly draped over her in slumber. Although I’m slightly jealous that Fahaian has her attention, I’m really happy for the two of them. I want them to be happy, to be together.

Not far from those two, I spot Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Kitty, in much the same position. I put a cheek idly on my hand as I observe my sleeping friends.

Two couples, born to be together.

The reverie brings my attention to William, curled up next to me. He’s still asleep, his face showing more peace than he ever shows when he’s awake. His hand reaches idly for my hip, as he’s obviously dreaming. I pick up his hand slowly and bring it to my lips, this strong hand of a man who I’ve come to love dearly, even more than I could have ever imagined.

Last night, he insisted on accompanying me to the entry point of Hell. I’m glad for this. I’ll need his strength to walk through the gate.

There’s hours to go before we’re to meet Gabe at the lake, so I decide to take some exercise. I stand up, stretch my back, and unfurl my wings. Gently, so that I don’t disturb the others, I walk out of our little circle, flap my wings, and take to the air.

The atmosphere of Avalon embraces me like a loving parent. The air is crisp and clear, the weather perfect, as very few clouds are crossing through the newborn sunlight. I flap my wings to drive myself higher. The sky seems so infinite when I’m up this high, calling to me, beckoning me to fly even higher, to touch the sun. The temptation of Icarus overcomes me, and I reach out to the bright orb in the sky.

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

A voice? This high up? I heard that, it wasn’t in my brain. Who could be up here?

“Others before you have tried to touch the sun, with bad things happening for their effort.”

I need to know who this is. The voice sounds like it’s behind me, so I turn in a gentle corkscrew. I finally spot the speaker, an older man with large, feathery wings spread behind him, flapping in pace with my own. I raise an eyebrow. “Am I to assume you’ve tried before?”

“Every once in a while. I like to challenge myself.” He smiles playfully. “I heard you were here, and I had to come see you. Let’s talk on the ground.”

I’d agree to that … a conversation’s a little difficult to conduct while flying. I follow my elderly companion to an unoccupied meadow, where we alight and land in sync. My wings curl up into my body; his, though, remain behind him, folded like a bird’s wings. He’s approaching me now, with his hand extended in a friendly gesture.

“Hi, pleasure to meet you, I’m Carlos del Aire. I’ve been here a few days.” He extends his hand to me. “I’ve wanted to meet you since I heard about your actions in Chicago.”

I can feel my face reddening … I really didn’t want a reminder of last year. “Thanks … I guess?” I shake his hand firmly. “Right now, I just want to stretch my wings, get some peace …”

Carlos narrows his eyes playfully. “You’re avoiding things, Ms. Sharpe.”

I wrap my arms around myself. “Avoiding what? Nobody else volunteered to go into Hell. Nobody else was pushing me aside to rescue Dad.”

He smiles and raises a finger. “Ah yes, you have stepped forward for this … but now that you have, you don’t want to go.”

Am I that transparent? My heart aches right now. “Yeah … I guess that sounds right. I’m starting to realize what it is I’ve chosen to do, I guess. It’s starting to feel like it’s too much for me.”

Carlos looks playfully confused … does this man take anything seriously? “But if it’s too much, why choose to do it?”

I sigh. “It’s my duty. I’m the Guardsman, it’s up to me to do this. No one else needs to take the risk, only me. It’s my family, after all.”

“Yes, but …”

“Is that all you say, things that start with either ‘yes’ or ‘but?’”

He chuckles. “Not always. Sometimes I start sentences with ‘you.’ As in, you need to realize that others see your father as family, as well. As well as you yourself.”

That’s the truth … why else would they have come for me at Traverse City last year? Michi said I needed to figure out that they love me. I think I know that, but it’s only just now starting to sink in, only now that I’m about to dive into the most dangerous adventure of my life.

Tears are starting to fall, and Carlos realizes this. He places a hand … and a wing … on my shoulder. “Your friends care, Alanna, just as much as you do. It’s your duty, yes, but you also need to come to terms with your feelings for them, and their feelings for you. Remember who you do this for.”

I sniffle and look up at the old man, feeling his feathers tickling my shoulder. “Dad? Mom?”

“Them too, yes, but you also do it for your friends. You do this for everyone you love.”

My smile comes gently, as what he’s said sinks in. I do this for everyone. Not just myself, not just for my family, but for everyone. My voice is soft. “Are you an angel, Carlos?”

He laughs. “Oh my no, Alanna, I’m merely an old man from New Mexico. Real angels are far more subtle than me …” His eyes rise away from me. I follow where their gaze points and find Gabe, approaching slowly. I slide out gently from under Carlos’s wing and approach the agent.

“Everyone’s wondering where you are, Alanna.” He turns his eyes up. “Carlos, I’m sorry about this.”

“Not at all, Mr. Francis, we’ve been having a good discussion.” He turns toward me. “Remember what we talked about when you go down, young lady.”

I smile wider now. “Don’t worry, I will. Thank you.” Gabe puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me away as Carlos flaps his wings and takes to the air once more.

“Interesting discussion?” Gabe sounds nosy, but I know he only cares.

“Quite. I think I’m ready to go.”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

Gabe leads me back to the campsite, where everyone else is awake now. He has a hand on my shoulder as we approach, and he raises his voice to gain everyone’s attention.

“Folks, this is it. Where we’re going now very few have ventured before, but not all of you can come with us.” He squeezes my shoulder as William comes to my other side. “Alanna, it’s time.”

There’s a small creek bend near the campsite, and as Gabe speaks I watch the Lady rise out of the water, shimmering in the light of the day. I take a deep breath.

This is it.

My farewell path starts with Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Kitty. “I want you guys to know, you’ve been wonderful to me since I came to be at the Ranch last year. I’m so glad to have you in my life.”

They both hug me, Aunt Kitty at my shoulders and Uncle Cyrus at my waist. I think Aunt Kitty might actually be crying … I’ve never seen her cry before. When she speaks, her voice shakes. “You stay safe down there, girl, and find your dad.”

My heart is throbbing. This might be too much emotion, but once the Salems have let me go, I move over to where Julian stands, smiling weakly. His voice is quiet this morning. “Does it have to be you?”

I take a resigned deep breath and nod. “Absolutely, Julian. He called to me, and …” I wipe a tear away from my eye. “… and I’m the only one who can find him, who can save him.”

He nods, and then wraps his thin arms around me, pulling me tightly to him. “Find him, Alanna. Bring him home, so we can get my daughter back.”

I hug my grandfather as tight as I feel safe doing, clutching to his shirt shakily. “I will, Grandfather.”

He’s surrendering to emotion himself. I release him and gently kiss his cheek, then move over to the last ones I have to see before we leave, Fahaian and Michi. The prince extends his hand to me. “Good luck in your quest, Alanna. May Aten and Zoroaster smile on you as you journey into peril.”

I’m not satisfied with a handshake. Instead, I embrace Fahaian, if only to give him a quietly whispered message. “Be courageous, and take care of Michi. She’s going to need you.”

He whispers back, “I will.”

I release Fahaian and turn to Michi, who I’ve purposely saved for last. She looks inconsolable … I think she’s been crying the whole time. I playfully poke her shoulder. “Don’t be such a baby, Michi … you’d think you were going to school or something.”

I wink at her. She giggles gently, though she’s still emotional. “Come home soon, okay? We’ll keep your room open for you.” Even though I know it’s coming, it still knocks me off-balance when she glomps me. “You take care and find your dad. We’ll be okay.”

Now my tears are falling. I clutch her tightly. “Michi, if it comes down to it … remember that you’re the best friend any girl could ever have.”

After what feels like a sad eternity in each other’s arms, I feel the gentle pressure of William’s hand on my shoulder, signaling that it’s time to go. I release Michi from my grip and back away from the group.

Something doesn’t feel right here. I need to say something.

I clear my throat, but my voice is still a little bit of a hoarse croak. “Hold strong for me while I’m gone. Resist. Fight them to the end. This isn’t over until the New Empire’s gone.”

I hold my hand up to wave at them. They return the wave, and at this point I need to turn away from them and approach the Lady, with Gabe and William flanking me. A shadow passes over us, and I look up to see Carlos del Aire flying overhead.

An air tribute.

I can’t help but smile now. My attention is now focused on the Lady, who stands with her arms open, kind of expectantly. “It is time, my friends. Step into the water.”

The three of us approach the Lady, stepping gently into the creek bend. The water penetrates my shoes, but it feels right for some reason, probably because of the Lady’s influence. We continue to wade until we’re all waist-deep in the creek bend.

The Lady raises her arms. “I can only take you as far as the waters will allow. You will be on your own to reach your destination once you leave my world.”

“I understand,” I reply. “Let’s go.”

The Lady smiles at me, even as her arms cease their human appearance and take on the form of a crashing wave, approaching us. Engulfing us. Still, the water doesn’t feel wrong, even though I should fear drowning. It feels more like comfort … like an unexplainable state of relaxation that washes over me.

Like floating in the womb.

#phantom squadron #infernal eighteen

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thelittlethings66 · 2 years ago

Text

After

'Don't look, don't look'. Daryl says to Carol as we stay sitting on the floor, she pushes Daryl off then runs off. I look over at Hershel and his family, all standing there crying over their family. Beth then runs over to her mum laying on the floor. 'Mum, mum'. It then starts moving. We all run over and try to pull Beth off her mum on the floor until Andrea stabs her in head and kills her. 'We've been out. Combing these woods looking for her and she was in there all along!' Shane starts. 'You knew didn't you?' 'Just stop it'. Maggie says. 'Shane, just stop man'. Rick says. 'I didn't know...' 'That's bullshit'. 'Why was she there then?. 'Otis... he put those people in the barn. Maybe he found her and put her in there before he was killed'. Hershel explains. 'You expect me to believe that!'. I stand at the back listening in. 'Oh come on do I look like an idiot'. 'Get him off my land!'. Shane steps towards Hershel and Maggie steps forward and slaps Shane in the face. 'Hey, don't touch him! Haven't you done enough?'. The Greene family head inside and Glenn follows after. 'You just can't help yourself can you?'. I say to Shane. 'What?'. 'Getting involved, look what you did to them. To Beth, seeing her mum like that. You have some serious anger management problems'. 'We had to do it! Those things would have killed us!'. 'Yeah or you will'. I mumble to myself as I walk away.

I go and find Carol who is sitting in the RV with Daryl neither of them saying anything. So I join them sitting at the table. I hold her hand. After sitting there a while Lori walks in 'They're ready. Come on'. 'Why?'. She asks. 'Cause that's your little girl'. Daryl replies. 'That's not my little girl, that's some other... thing. My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time I thought....she didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago'. She speaks looking out the window. Lori and Daryl both leave but I stay with her.

We bury Sophia. I stand beside her holding her hand once more. We then start to collect all the other bodies to burn them. As I am carrying a body with T I start to feel dizzy and lightheaded. 'You alright?' I hear him ask. 'Ash?' 'Hmmm..'. 'Get her in her tent'. Dale says. 'No, I need to help'. 'We can do it, you have a head injury'. He replies.

I wake up in my tent. Cold flannel on my forehead. Water bottle next to me. Feeling sick. 'Ow..happened again..'. I say to myself. I slowly sit up and drink the water. As I walk out the tent I walk over to Dale. 'Your awake'. 'What happened? Did I faint again?'. 'Yes you did'. Looking around I notice there aren't many people around. 'Where is everyone?' 'Well. Rick and Glenn have gone off to find Hershel, he disappeared into town. And Beth also fainted out of shock we think'. 'Holy shit'. I then notice Lori walking over looking pissed. 'Are you ok?' 'I'm fine'. She carries on walking past me. 'So much drama'. Dale scoffs. 'I'm gonna go and check on Beth'.

I walk off into the house. I find Maggie sitting on the bed next to her sister who is laying there still on the bed. 'Hey, how is she? She doesn't say anything just starts crying so I pull a chair over and sit next to her. 'She'll be ok. She's stronger than she thinks'. 'Yeah I know, we just need daddy back'. ' Rick and Glenn will bring him back'. She smiles through the tears. 'Glenn told me you know...about us'. 'Yeah I figured it out'. 'He'll be back'. 'I know. It's just before they left I told him I loved him'. I smile. 'I know it's quick but. It's just how I feel'. 'He is cute'. I say. 'Yeah'. She smiles back. 'What did he say back?'. 'Nothing. He just walked off'. 'Oh my god what an idiot. I'm sure he feels the same way, you just I don't know, surprised him. He'll get some advice from Rick, he will sort him out'. 'Hope so. Thankyou Ashley'. 'That's ok. Do you need anything? 'No thank you I'm ok'. I leave the sisters alone and walk back outside. In the distance I see flames. They have started to burn the bodies.

Later that evening we all go into the house for dinner. 'They should've been back by now'. Andrea says as she walks in. 'Yeah. They just got holed up somewhere'. Shane replies as he sits down at the table. 'We'll head out first thing in the morning'. 'Lori'. Carol calls after her. 'She's not in there'. Maggie replies. 'Carl, when's the last time you saw your mom?'. 'This afternoon'. 'She was worried about Rick, asked me to look in on Carl'. Andrea replies. ' I saw her earlier, looked angry walked straight passed me to her tent'. I say. 'She went after them, nobody panic she gotta be around somewhere'. Shane says. Me and Carol go outside to find Daryl on his own next to a fire. 'We can't find Lori, and the others aren't back yet'. Carol says to him. 'Yeah, that dumb bitch must've gone off looking for 'em. 'What? 'She asked me to go, told her I was done being an errand boy'. 'She asked you cause your the best out there'. He scoffs at me. 'Why didn't you say anything?' Carol asks. 'Don't do this please. I've already lost my girl'. 'That wasn't my problem neither'. He gets up and walks off. 'She asked Daryl to go into town'. Carol says as we get back to the other. 'Must've gone herself'. Carl starts panicking so I give him a hug. 'She'll be ok sweetheart'. Shane walks over to the car and speeds off looking for her.

Shane and Lori eventually make it back. 'Oh my god, are you alright? What happened? Andrea asks as they get out of the car. 'I was in an accident. I'm fine. I'm fine. Where's Rick? There not back? We all stand there quietly. 'Where are they? 'Look I had to get you back here.' Shane says. 'You asshole. He's my husband'. ' Lori, I will go after him'. I gotta make sure your alright, gotta make sure the baby's alright, okay? We all stare at other. 'You're having a baby? Carl asks. 'Why didn't you tell me? ' I...I...' 'Come on lets make sure your alright'. Dale says.

The next morning I wake up and can already hear the guys outside getting ready to go and find Rick, Glenn and Hershel. But as they are about to leave a car is driving up the road towards us. We all run over as the car pulls up. Carl and Lori hug Rick. Maggie runs up to Glenn. Missing her dad. 'Patricia prepare the shed for surgery'. Hershel says as he walks into the house. 'Who the hell is that?' 'T-Dog asks as he points to the car. 'That's Randall'. Glenn replies.

#thewalkingdead daryldixon

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violetsandfluff · 2 years ago

Note

Concept: You've moved to LA with Charlie but you don't have the means to dress like the girls in his peer group

They make fun of you and Charlie finds out

So he picks some pretty little outfits for you

I'd love to imagine what he'd choose

cewt. you give the best concepts 😫😌 but sorry this took a little bit 😬 tw: crying, being upset in general, nudity (not graphic), a bit of smut at the end, and spiders. 😖

“Baby, I wanna go home.”

Your words thudded like bricks into your unsuspecting boyfriend’s ears.

“Why do you want to go home, love?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “What happened?”

He had just emerged from the bathroom and been bombed with your request, catching him a little off guard.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you answered carefully, feeling tears creep into your eyes.

“Are you sick?”

“No, Char. I just wanna go home.”

Though confused, Charlie agreed and called an Uber to pick you both up and bring you home. After he’d done that, he walked in the room to say goodbye to the friends that had invited him there.

You insisted on staying outside and waiting for the car to come, but in truth you’d just rather be anywhere else.

You stood outside, leaning against the metal railing, staring blankly at the ground until you felt yourself slipping easily into Charlie’s arms.

He burrowed his face in your hair before asking, “What happened in there, sweet girl?”

You didn’t turn around to face him. You couldn’t. You simply stared ahead before saying, “Nothing. I’m just tired. And maybe I don’t feel well.” This wasn’t a lie, of course. The comments had made you sick to your stomach, frankly.

Charlie didn’t push it. He just stood there, silently holding you, until the Uber arrived.

He helped you in before climbing in himself, and the Uber began driving you home in silence.

You spent the ride playing with your hands, picking at your grown-out nails, trying not to bite them while Charlie sat silently beside you.

He didn’t say anything until you got home, but you knew it was coming.

“If you’re sick, baby girl, you can go lie down for a few minutes. I’ll start a bath for us.”

You knew you weren’t sick in the sense he was expecting, but you did as he said anyway. You didn’t bother pulling back the covers, laying on top of them was enough. They were so soft and they smelled like Charlie.

Charlie rustled around in the bathroom as he made the water nice and warm for you. You could almost hear him adding your favorite bubbles to the water to cheer you up.

He called you, but you pretended to be fast asleep so that he would carry you into the water instead, but your plan nearly backfired.

He poked his head into the room from the connected bathroom to see you curled up in the middle of the expansive bed. “Baby, if you’re sleeping, I’m gonna tuck you in and take a bath without you.”

Moments later, you found yourself scurrying to his side, begging for him to pick you up and carry you into the water.

He just gave you a soft smile and pulled you into the bathroom, where he undressed you and sat you down on the toilet so he could undress.

You watched him in awe, feeling more than usual. Usually, you felt lust upon seeing him, and pride that he was yours, but right now you felt unworthy. And it stung.

“What’s that, darling?”

“What’s what?”

“On your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” Your hand reaches up to touch your face. Was your makeup smudged? Was there a spider?

“You look sad, princess,” he explained as he scooped you up and lowered you into the water. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

You repeated every word that had been spoken to you while he had ducked into the bathroom for a couple of minutes, and you felt him growing tense beneath you.

“Who said that?”

You repeated the names tearfully, not wanting to upset him further because he was already boiling under the surface.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it. Well, I believe you, but…” he trailed off for a moment to collect himself before restarting. “I—why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have taken them aside and”

“That’s the problem, Char,” you said, your voice giving away your emotional state. “You’re too confrontational sometimes. I just want you to… I don’t know.”

“Babyyyy,” Charlie drawled. “Tell me, please? I want to make it better.”

“I just want you, assuming you even still want me. I don’t want drama. I just want my Charlie.”

“I only want my Y/N,” Charlie said, willing himself not to cry. The tears falling down her cheeks mad him just as emotional. “Fuck all of them. If they don’t want to accept my baby, they don’t accept me either. Easy as that.”

- - -

“Turn around for me, baby. Wanna see that pretty little ass. Make sure it’s covered and perfectly modest, you know.”

“Charlie, since when have you ever wanted me to be modest?” you asked, tipping your head to the side a bit. “Thought you liked seeing my ass.”

“Attention whore,” Charlie cursed. “Turn around, lemme see.”

You turned around, making sure to dance a little bit in front of him. You were wearing a red bikini that he had selected just for you. It fit perfectly. It covered your boobs in all the right places and lifted them up**. Your entire middle was bare, showing off the skin Charlie loved so dearly. On the bottom you wore a matching red piece that didn’t cover anything in the back. Good thing you were going to an adults-only beach.

“Sexy girl,” Charlie murmured as he pressed his finger to his bottom lip. “Try the coverup on.”

You slipped into your sheer black coverup and Charlie gave a satisfied smirk. “That’s my girl.” He watched as you disappeared back into the bathroom to put on another outfit.

He was planning on taking a beach trip with you, and only you, and he had gifted you some outfits to bring along.

They were cute and trendy, but above all sexy, just for him.

The outfit that you were putting on was what you’d wear on the ride and checking into the hotel. It was comfortable and light, but also… sexy. (It was Charlie, what do you expect?)

You emerged wearing a tight white crop top that hugged your chest perfectly, and a pair of patterned pants that accentuated your butt perfectly**.

Charlie broke into a fond smile upon seeing you. “It’s perfect,” he said as he ran a finger across his lips. “Just how I imagined it looking on you. But I have one last thing.” He handed you a small package which he had wrapped in a plastic bag. “Go try it on for me? Please?”

You gave him a confused look, but returned obediently to the bathroom where you opened it in awe. Inside was the most beautiful lingerie set you’d ever laid your eyes on**. You almost didn’t want to put it on, but you did.

Charlie was too big a temptation.

A sheer white fabric covered a thicker bra and panties, and lacy coral trim bordered the seams. There were lacy hearts strewn around the fabric, and your breath caught when you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your first thought was, “I look so sexy.”

Your second thought was, “Charlie’s about to go insane.”

Taglist: @wayfcharlie @fishingirl12

#💖 princessofguineapigs #🦢💌#🫧 requested #Charlie puth #Charlie puth concept #Charlie puth fanfic #Charlie puth imagine #Charlie puth blurb #charlie puth x reader #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart #boyfriend!charlie

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xxbangchansidedishxx · 2 years ago

Text

Pillow princess Mingi.

Warnings: Smut, forced Feminization, degrading, nipple play, size difference, Bottom Mingi, Top San, name calling, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie, cum eating, pet names, dacryphelia, teasing, butt plugs, cockslut.

This is just a Drabble I posted to Twitter and decided to post here.

-Twitter: CherryCh4nnie

-Ao3: PuppyBoyChan

“Do you want it hm?”

Mingi Looked up at the elder with glassy eyes and his face blushed.

A soft whimper leaving his lips when San slipped his lubed up cock between his cheeks, letting it rub against his hole making it twitch and clench around nothing.

“I said do you want it princess?”

The rapper burned up at the pet name feeling his cock twitch. He didn’t trust his voice to speak but he couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

Defeated he squeaked out

“P-please Sannie, want it so bad.”

San just chuckled stopping his movements and instead gliding his hands up the youngers buff body to toy with his perked up nipples.

“You have such pretty tits Darling.”

He would tease squeezing the soft muscle and pressing them together to create cleavage.

The boy below him was squirming and protesting.

He shouldn’t be getting so turned on by this, they weren’t tits he was a man.

But the way Sxn was speaking to him and touching him expertly made heat coil up in his stomach even if he was ashamed to admit it.

“You love it really don’t you princess?I bet you could cum just by me playing with your nipples, maybe next time we can dress you up in a pretty bralette and I can fuck your pretty tits hm?

Would you like that ?”

The thought made Mingi Whimper out loud and his body arched.

He desperately needed to be fucked.

It was cruel for San to tease him like this really but can you blame him?

The sight of the tall buff man falling apart for him was mouth watering.

The way his face flushed, messy hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and plump pink lips hung open as he let out the most sinful deep moans and occasionally whimpers.

The way his body squirmed with need and tears started to fall down his cheeks as he begged and begged to be filled up.

“S-Sannie please I nngh need it s-so bad.”

His voice came out as a desperate plead.

He’d been so good really, so who was San to deny him?

He’d push his cock into the rappers hole agonisingly slowly, feeling the tight warmth suck him in he’d growl low in his throat.

They looked a sight with Mingi’s long legs thrown over the shorter mans shoulders as veiny hands were tightly gripping his waist, definitely enough to bruise to hold him in place.

San would begin to thrust rough and deep, making Mingi Cry out.

He sounded positively wrecked.

Debauched moans and sobs leaving his lips with every thrust.

“Doing so good for me hm? God it was like you were made to take my cock. My perfect little fuck toy. I wonder what people would say if they saw you completely ruined for me?”

San’s voice was low and the lewd words dripped off his tongue.

“Mmh am your good boy S-Sannie, f-fuck feels so good.”

Encouraged, San picked up his pace, now wrapping one hand around the others red leaking cock and jacking him off fast making his back arch and causing him to yell out.

“You’ve got such a huge cock it’s pathetic you could never fucking use it.

I bet you wouldn’t even be able to fuck me if you tried.

Instead you’ll have to make do with me filling you up.

You love having your slutty hole stuffed so much don’t you princess? Bet you never want it to end.”

The dirty words were the last straw for Mingi,with a broken moan his body convulsed as he shot ribbons of cum all over his abs.

Still thrusting into him San would collect some of the cum on his fingers, bringing them up to the panting overstimulated boys soft lips and rubbing them making them all messy before demanding him to suck.

He’d swirl his tongue around the digits, lapping his cum up like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

The image was so sinful that with a final thrust San would cum deep inside him, slowly thrusting a few more times to fuck his cum back into him before slipping his cock out, the rapper whimpering at the empty feeling.

“S-Sannie.” He’d pant

“Wanna keep your cum inside.”

God this boy was going to be the death of him.

San would reach in the bedroom draw for

Mingi’s blue jewel plug, rubbing it on his rim teasingly before stuffing it in his hole before any more of his cum leaked out.

The boy would sigh contently, holding his arms out gesturing for San to come and lay his head on his pillowy chest to which the blonde happily complied.

Although they were both sticky and sweaty they were content.

“You did so well for me darling.”

San would say, his voice soft as he props himself up to place a gentle kiss to the others lips, the salty taste of cum still present making his head slightly dizzy.

He’d place his head back on Mingis chest snuggling closer to him, wrapped in his embrace.

With heavy eyes and sleep taking over his body the younger would breathe out a slurred

“Thank you Sannie”

Before the two drifted to sleep.

#fanfiction #kpop fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #choi san #choi san fanfic #choi san smut #song mingi #song Mingi #mingi fanfic #song mingi smut #bxb #kpop bxb #bxb smut

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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years ago

Note

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

#yandere eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #toxic eren #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dubcon tw #tw noncon

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

What if a security guard wouldn’t let you back in the arena if you went out to get something. And they didn’t believe that you were harrys gf and just thought you were a crazy fan

oooh it’s been done before but here’s my version!! ;

You were running late.

It was already 7pm and you were only getting out of your car in the car park. Harry was due to be on stage in an hour and you hadn’t even seen him yet. The traffic around Dallas today has been awful. Chocker block. You’d been with Harry all day, up until 3 hours ago when he had to leave the hotel to come to the stadium for rehearsals. Normally you’d go with him, but you were so tired that you wanted a little nap before coming. The problem here was you overslept.

There were no Ubers available and a taxi would be far too expensive at this time, so you drive in Harrys car instead. You’d been following Harry on tour in his car, so when you get to different destinations you can go out on ball day trips if you want to without the obscenity of a huge tour bus or paying for Ubers everywhere. It was the main reason you were so tired though, travelling across country and into different time zones. It would be so much easier if this was the UK.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket, locking the car as you got out and started running for the backstage entrance. It was easy to make it there and you noticed security guards already standing there.

“Hi!” You smiled, slightly short of breathe. You were about to move past them when one of them shoved your shoulder back, making you stumble back unbalanced. “Wha—”

“ID and backstage pass to get through here.” One of them said, looking you up and down as if you were nothing.

If anything, you were quite shocked on how they just treated and continued to treat you. Normally, Harry would show a picture of you to these backstage security guards to make sure you’d be able to get in no problem, but it seemed like today Harry might’ve forgotten to show that photo. This was going to be a problem for you, because you’d forgotten to bring your backstage pass.

“I normally just go through? I’m Harry’s girlfriend.” You tried talking your way around the situation, not appreciating behind held up so close to show-time.

“Oh you’re Harry’s girlfriend? You must be the 7th one we’ve met tonight.” The security guy laughed and so did his friend, making your blood boil with how annoying they were being. Harry would be so pissed if he heard the way they were treating you.

“No but I actually am.”

“Then, ID and backstage passes.” One of then held out his hand whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest to make him look intimidating. Dickheads.

“I have ID just not the backstage passes.” You answered honestly, holding out your ID for them to check. They collected it and asked you questions on it, you answering them all perfectly.

“Well you definitely know you, but you have no proof you’re supposed to be where you claim to be.” They handed you back your ID and you huffed in stress.

“Well what can I show you? Photos of me and Harry together? Text messages?” You waved your arms around, getting really pissed off that this was actually happening. You’d probably miss Jenny’s whole set because of this and then 15 minutes before show-time Harry gets transported under the stage. So you only really would have half and hour with him, and that’s just not enough time. You wanted a safe and warm hug off him. You wanted a kiss. You just wanted him.

“Everyone knows they can be photoshopped.” One of the guys scoffs at your notion.

“Listen. You either show us your backstage pass or we’ll escort you off site.” The other one says a lot more firmer this time. It made you quite anxious for what you’d do if they did that - or maybe when they did that.

“Well I don’t have the backstage passes.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at the way this was going to end.

“Then let’s go.” One of them pointed to where you came from and to the car park, stepping forwards as he did so.

“I’m not leaving until you let me through those doors. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” You answered, taking a step back in stress of what they might do.

“Harry ain’t your boyfriend. Now let’s go!” They stepped forwards again and reached for you.

You swung your bag at one of them, hitting him in his side and he grunted because of the impact of your water bottle with his chest. The other one grabbed your arm and you couldn’t shake him, since you were not trained in any way for situations like this at all. His fingers dig into your skin and it made you scream out a cry, trying to kick him in any way to escape. The other one recovered ever ordered the guy holding you to escort you away whilst he stayed and guarded the door. The one holding you tugged your arms behind your body and held them tight there, it really fucking hurting. He didn’t care though and continued to walk you, asking you where your car was so he could get you out of here.

Once you reached your car he let you go and you wrapped your arms around you as he walked away again, not verbally saying anything but his eyes saying enough. Stay away. You shakily got your keys out of your bags and unlocked your door, climbing in and just sitting there. You could feel your hands really shaky and achy. Looking down with tear clouded eyes, you saw the red marks over your arms and slight bruising already. Your arms and shoulders hurt from being bent in an uncomfortable position.

You cared less about the pain though and how much of a disappointment of a girlfriend you were going to be to Harry. He was going to think either the worst for you or the worst of you. You reached in your bag on your lap for your phone, throwing your bag on the seat next to you afterwards. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your t-shirt and unlocked your phone to text messages, sending Harry a quick text.

To Harry: Are you free to call? x

No response. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, still shook up and teary. That had been a really awful situation to be in and you hated that you were nowhere near Harry to fix it. Your phone vibrated 3 minutes later, finding a text message from Harry. You sighed and felt safe when you saw his icon light up your notifications, knowing he was in contact with you.

From Harry: Of course, you okay? xx

You didn’t open your phone because you didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell him you’re not okay, only 20 minutes before he’s meant to be ready to go on stage? You didn’t want to worry him, but you also didn’t want him thinking you were a terrible girlfriend either.

Another vibration.

From Harry: Lovie? xx

Your eyes watered at that simple word, meaning so much more to you than five letters. It made you feel so much comfort, you only wished you could get that hug and a kiss now.

Again.

From Harry: Love, you’re worrying me now.

From Harry: Let me face-time you, hang on.

His icon lit up the screen; Incoming…

You shakily accepted, wiping your eyes quickly before. When he answered you could tell he was still in his dressing room, sat on the sofa that you wish you were also sat on with him. He looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a pearl coloured silk shirt and you knew he was wearing white silk pants to co-ordinate. You thought he looked ethereal. A glowing beacon of hope and beauty.

He didn’t say anything to you at first and you nothing to him. He just looked at you and instantly knew something bad was up. He kept eye contact with you and it was as if he was having a telepathic conversation with you, understanding that you needed him and just him.

“Hey, Mitch man?” Harry asked, turning his head to somewhere else in the room. “Could y’just give me a minute. Please.”

“Sure, sure.” Mitch answered and all you could hear was the sound of shuffling and the door shut. As soon as he was gone you started crying all over again. You cupped your hand over your eyes and your body shook as you just cried. Harrys heart broke that you were alone and he couldn’t hug you close to his chest.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me.” He asked urgently and you just shook your head, embarrassed that this was happening to you. “You’ll be alright lovie, I promise. Just look at me, beautiful.” You moved your hand away from your face and wiped your eyes and nose to try and make you look slightly better - not that it helped. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You smiled. He smiled.

“I-i’m so-rry H.” You whispered, sniffling in between words because of how shaky you felt.

“Hey, no. None of that. It’ll be okay.” He reassured you, keeping eye contact with you to try and decipher what was wrong. “Where are you, lovie? You’re in the car, yeah?” Harry asked, recognising your surroundings but you could get anywhere. You could have been in an accident for all he knew, but he was remaining calm so he didn’t send you into a panic.

“Yeah. In the stadium car park.” You saw Harrys eyes momentarily light up at that, before he remembered that you weren’t okay.

“Okay. Tell me why you’re upset, love. Help me understand.” He sounded urgent, just wanting to know so he could help you out. He wanted you to be okay. He wanted you with him.

“The security guards wouldn’t let me in, backstage I mean. I didn’t have my backstage pass. But..” You choked on a sob and Harry told you to just breathe. You were okay. “One of them g-grabbed me and escorted m-me of sight.”

“Baby, are you hurt? Is that why you’re upset?” Harry asked, standing up now in panic. His face looked angry, but you could tell he was trying his best to be a comfort for you. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Yes Harry, yes.” You voice wobbled out and you let out an exasperated sob. “I’m s-sor—”

“No don’t you dare. Don’t apologise for this. Not ever. You understand me?” He made very clear he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Alright. Now, you gotta be strong for me okay?” He asked, before asking, still checking that you were okay. He knew you would be though, because you were his bravest girl ever - stronger than you knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re going to make your way back to the backstage entrance, alright? I am going to be there, before you get there. Those security guards won’t be there I promise. You’ll be okay. Can you do that for me?” He asked, moving around the room and then out of the door. He was walking down the corridors, ignoring the people shouting his name. He was only focused on you.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded, wiping under your nose again.

“I love you.” He kissed the camera of his phone, looking like he was kissing you instead.

You returned the gesture, kissing him virtually back. “I love you.”

He told you that it’d be alright and then ended the call, explaining how you didn’t need to hear him get angry when he found these security guards. They would be fired even if they weren’t on his tour crew, he’d make sure of it. You made your way back to the backstage entrance again, slowing down before you rounded the corner. Taking a deep breathe you walked around and were met with exactly what Harry promised; him.

You smiled and broke out into a run to get to him, your bag weighing on your shoulder. Once you reached him your bag was thrown on the floor in front of him and you jumped into his arms. He lifted you up to sit you around his waist, keeping his arms tight around your waist and squeezing the biggest hug out of you. Your arms tightened around your boyfriends neck and you buried your face into his neck, and god he smelt like everything homely and sweet. He felt just like home.

“See, you’re alright now lovie.” He assured you, kissing your cheek that wasn’t quite buried into his neck.

“Th-ank you.” You muttered, kissing his neck in appreciation which made him hum in delight. He tasted so hot and lush. He was insatiable. You then felt him start kissing your arms, where the harsh red and purple marks were.

“Sorry y’had to go through this.” He kept kissing your arms, until you moved your head up and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“If I can’t say sorry, then neither can you.” You shook your head, kissing his nose softly. You watched his eyes flutter close and felt so special that only you could do that to him.

“You’re so amazing Y/N. Truly.”

“You’re pretty special too, my love.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else from you, those words were enough, so he pressed his lips to yours softly, filling you with the love you’d been waiting to feel all day. You smiled into the kiss and he just felt so amazing. He was so soft and gentle with you - as smooth as the silk that dressed his body. He was so pretty to watch melt away under your spell and delicious tasting. Strawberries, was that?

He was everywhere. He was everything. He always would be.

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rjhpandapaws · 2 years ago

Text

Through Cracks in the Stone

This is my first foray into Sidlink, and writing for BotW but I am excited about it. I belted this out on my 30 minute break at work yesterday.

//CW: For implied Suicidal ideation, as well as low self worth

Link was a great many things; as Sidon had learned; strong, resilient, kind, gentle, and unfailingly generous; just to name a few. And so very, very broken. It seeped out of him like winter runoff through the cracks in a partially eroded stone. Tiny trickles at a time. In silences that have stretched just this side of too long, even for him. In quiet sighs that could barely be heard and still shook Sidon like thunder. The tears his beloved Hylian hero would shed when he believed he was alone. Things that Sidon was certain he was the only one to notice. It hurt him to see that Link was in this much pain, and hadn't spoke a word of it to anyone as far as Sidon was aware.

Perhaps it was his old knight's training that kept him from voicing what was clearly eating at him. Or maybe now that his job had been completed he felt that those who had stood with him through Ganon's fall and all it wrought on Hyrule would no longer care. That particular train of thought made something sharp and bitter blossom in Sidon's chest. He pushed it aside, because he knew it wasn't true. He cared for Link, dearly, more than was probably wise in fact. So that couldn't be the reason; unless of course; Link didn't know.

Sidon was fairly certain he had made it clear that he was Link's friend. So why then? Why wouldn't Link come to him with his troubles? Goddess knows Sidon had confided in him often enough. Even if he couldn't help, having someone to just listen might ease his burden some. It always helped Sidon at the very least, Link's advice wasn't the best, but it was nice to have. He planned on bringing it up the next time he saw Link. He didn't plan on the next time he came across Link to be so soon. While he was seated by the water, looking into it like it held the answer to the sorrow in his eyes. Sidon crested the water slowly, and winced at Link tried to force a smile into place. "You know you can tell me anything," He said in way of greeting, "Right my dear friend?" Link only stared at him from where he was perched on the rock. He lifted his hands to sign only to hesitate for so long that Sidon feared he wasn't going to say anything at all. 'I Know.' He signed, 'Nothing is Wrong.'

Sidon wanted to scream out the frustration that built in his chest, he didn't though, that would only push Link away. He took a breath to collect himself and tried again. "You have been alone for so long." Sidon pressed carefully and slowly moved closer to the shallows though he took care to keep himself submerged to keep the heat off his scales, "You must be used to hiding your troubles, but you don't have to anymore, not from me." He sees the exact moment what he said sank in. The hesitation and fear that fills those usually depthless blue eyes and his heart breaks. Being a hero surely must be a lonely path. His hands are shaking when he picks them up to sign again, 'I Have Nothing Left.' His movements are small, like a whisper, 'I Did What I Was Made For. Now There Is Nothing Left. With Hylia Appeased I Am No Longer Needed.' A quiet sob rattled through Link and he put his hands down and looked away from Sidon, perhaps to try and hide this moment of weakness.

"You're wrong!" Sidon doesn't mean to shout and flinches when he hears his own desperate cry echo back at him from the rocks, he chases it with a whisper, "I need you." Link doesn't smile, but something gives. The stone wall he hides behind cracks just a little more giving room for something to grow. They haven't scratched the surface of what is hurting Link, but it's a place to start, and that is all Sidon needs.

#Link & Sidon #Sidlink (sort of)#Breath of the Wild Fic #BotW #suicidal ideation tw #low self worth tw

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly. And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable. This is home. You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness. Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream. But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it. Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault. You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask. Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression. How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions? You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense. Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong. You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room. Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan. As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you. You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him. You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest. His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak. You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out. Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise. Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet. You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck. You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed. Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm? No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that. You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now. You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter. The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha? No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up. Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it. “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers. It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone. “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound. But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more. Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince. You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again. If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs. “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy. Your voice is small and your words slur. “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek. Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this. Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says. You hear it. You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange. Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right. It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now. You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness. You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed. You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes. Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep. “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away. “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy. Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence? Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close. It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish. Counting. You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through. Understanding words. You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that. Yep. You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said. Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that? Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it. Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery. Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning. You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay. It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics. You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed. The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate. Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat. Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier. No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point. You need something newer. Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened. One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds. You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression. “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves. Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection. How many fucking…? All this for just one person? What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t? They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming? Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest. A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan. “Nope. Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside. You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood. He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection. He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster. The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind. His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib. Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut. You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck. Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind. You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all. Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance. There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay. Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one? Ah, yes, okay—safety, off. Stance, find your stance. There it is. Alright, now lift. Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up. Hold. Hold. Hold.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!” You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated. What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what? Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder? Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope? Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot. It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here. Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point. Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah. It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you. “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger. The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well. Uh. That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside. Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow. Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart. In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing. You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to. Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay. “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb. Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold. You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound. Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back. Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving. Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently. Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry. You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm. That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see. He’s laying facedown in the snow. There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him. Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?” You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him. “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him. He doesn’t respond. He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him. You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath. His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy. You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet. You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder. You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning. But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do. You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold. He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff? The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up. Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments. The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again. Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you. The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold. It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now. Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly. So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor. You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore. The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit. Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t. Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now. Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct. His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding. “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now. His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now. Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time. You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm. Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore. It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving. No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up. Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in. Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears. He’s warm, what else can you do for him? Why is he not waking up? “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet. You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in. He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment. He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull. He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up. It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed. You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents. Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much. You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off. If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower. You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means. You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly. Again, just in case. “I’m not gonna look. Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both. He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating. “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall. You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold. His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck. Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless. He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do. The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing. Slow. Shallow. Barely able to be felt against your neck. He’s here but he’s not. And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize. But you have nothing to say. After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore. The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull. You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort. Wake up. Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it. You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward. You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it. It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second. A second where you dare to hope. Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards. You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present. Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief. “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers. You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again. You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that. Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you. He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking. Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay. The kid is okay. Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether. Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck. Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline. A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why. But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t. You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no. That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside. You know this. You know it’s there, and you know he needs it. Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty. You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there. And you’re the only one awake. The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself. For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought. Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push. You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer. Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck. You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident. You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to. You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock. You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece. When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship. The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing. You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow. You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse. A dead body. That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite. Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s… It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why. It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way. Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to. You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still… Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up. The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving. As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband. When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There. Halfway done. You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him. Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly. Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite. And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there. With your hands, you have to grab it. With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart. If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din. If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din. He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what? If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative. It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another. You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place. The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes. You’re done. You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait. Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other. “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight. You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now. You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him. The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you. Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy. Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions. “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either. He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible. “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer. “We’re in hyperspace. Everything’s okay now, I took care of it. We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding. “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue. “I took care of it. You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His. Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…” His hands are trembling harder than his voice. “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers. “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip. Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull. You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.

Fuck, you’re not expecting it. You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all. He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up. You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head. The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…” Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit. He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again. “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time. “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing. His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight. He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin. “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words. Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours. But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension. Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you. Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now. “It’s okay. Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.

“How d-did you find me?” He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him. Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him. “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back. “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore. In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting. The alternative is unthinkable. Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him. “I raided your armory. We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason. Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet. Breathing. So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it. You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest. In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in. It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?” He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding. No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back. The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours. It feels like it was ages ago. An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding. “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer. It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that. So now what is he going to say? What is he going to say? You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work. Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add. You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore. His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize. He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range. Which means he wasn’t just joking around. He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you. You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice. Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness. “Why did you say that? On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual. Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you. His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast. “Earlier that day. I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You? Said something that made him ask that?

“What?” You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue. “What did I say?”

“Something about…” He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold. “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth. “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily. “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity. “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth. You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real. You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it. You do mean it. Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you. Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him. His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation. There are, of course, millions of things left to ask. But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions. You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time. Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift. It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know. Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know. Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue. You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before. All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape. “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost. The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?” You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet. Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated. “Ni, for I or we. Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person. Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter. Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all. If that’s true, it’s unbelievable. How do they differentiate? Just context?

“How do you distinguish?” You ask him. Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive. I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it. “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it. “What do you mean?” You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of. “We abandon our names. We become… whispers, of the same voice. There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms. Interchangeable. Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication. Almost all of them are homonyms? How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point? That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?” You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now. “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…” You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it. Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested. “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale. “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason. Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.” He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest. “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck. “No witnesses, no celebrations. We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look. It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival. Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing. To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore. Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably. The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder. “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone. “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.” Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way. The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory. You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt. Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion. “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier. You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face. Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot. Unmoving. Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it. “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you. The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you. The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it. You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them. It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though. You’re still behind. “You knew I’d say no?” You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly. Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either. Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right. If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly. Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment. “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following. Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him. Respecting them. Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull. So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time. His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him. You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue. He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves. You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you. But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here. In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?” You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #fanfic #star wars fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #no-droids #reader insert

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