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sylusjinwoon · 2 years ago

Text

{ 86 }

the moon song.

clive rosfield x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; n-fw (soft depictions of physical intimacy) - minors don't interact

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have willingly consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

{ there's things i wish i knew; there's no thing i'd keep from you, it's a dark and shiny place- but with you my dear, i'm safe and we're a million miles away }

the battle had been waging on for what felt like an eternity, and there was a sense of dread coursing through your veins. from your periphery, you caught sight of the moon shining brightly within the night sky, yet you knew that it was no ordinary moon. there was some sort of malice felt within it. instead of shining its silvery hues against the battlefield, it was blood red in color.

you were running, uncertain as to why the sight of the red moon made your heart pound and twist in agony. all around you were fallen bodies, but you were focused on simply one.

clive, just where are you?

you quicken your pace across the field, doing your best to lay low and avoid any enemies using your speed alone. your eyes scanned the entirety of the area in hopes of catching a glimpse of your darling knight. your breathing was becoming ragged as your feet began to ache with the urgent pace that you started as you ran.

not paying any attention, you were unaware of the rock that stood in the middle of your path, causing you to trip over it as a shot of red hot pain was felt reverberating throughout your form. your ankle was surely twisted now, and you found that it was difficult to move when the sight of something laying still on the battlefield catches your attention.

the sight of the familiar set of armor and boots was what made your heart clench further in pain, as laying just a mere feet in front of you was clive. he was still, unnaturally so, with his body twisted in unnatural angles. whoever the enemy was, they had marked and marred him nearly beyond recognition. a silent scream was ripped from your throat, hands reaching out to the man you loved with your entire heart and soul, knowing at that very moment that your world was over-

you awaken with a gasp, feeling the silk sheets that once covered your naked form slide from your waist. your hands were shaking, heart still racing with fear at the nightmare that just plagued your mind just mere moments ago. you kept trembling, still tasting the saltiness of your tears against your face.

the heartbreak and devastation you felt was still fresh on your heart, the terrifying vision of him unmoving and dead still haunting you as a sob was ripped from your throat. you needed to feel him, to see the proof that he was still alive-

lucky for you, you needn't look too far. settled next to you on the tiny bed was your beloved, blissfully unaware of your turmoil as he slept peacefully by your side. the silk sheets covered the lower half of his form, but you allow your eyes the pleasure of taking in the sight of his broad chest and toned abdomen. desperate to feel the proof of him simply being alive, you crawl towards him.

your bare breast were pressed against his warm skin, and you could faintly feel the fluttering of his heart. holding back your tears, you carefully wrap your legs around his waist before settling yourself completely on top of him, burying your face within the base of his throat.

the sensation of your tears and soft lips against his skin was enough to rouse clive from his slumber. still half asleep, he was unaware of your tears when he places a hand behind your hair. "what's wrong?"

only when he finally feels your trembling and the way your tears fall against his heated skin does he fully wake up. letting out a cry of your name, he carefully holds you in his arms, pulling you away to clearly see your expression. the sight of your beautiful eyes filled with tears as the droplets fell like precious diamonds on to your face was enough to break clive's heart. "my darling love, whatever is the matter?"

you cling to him, unable to voice your fears as you surge forward, capturing his chapped lips in a bruising kiss. with a low moan, clive returns your kiss with the same passion, feeling your warm and pliant body against him was enough to make his heart race and desire become reignited for you.

you felt his manhood poking against your thighs and moan into his kiss, purposely trapping his erection against your soft thighs when you finally admit your fears to him, "my darling knight, i had a nightmare where you were taken away from me. i-it was during the war, and i had lost you."

a pained expression crosses his features as he lets or a shaky sigh of your name. "but i am here, right by your side. there's no need to fear, for i will never leave you."

you shake your head in response, rubbing your slickness against his heat while placing your hands on his shoulder, "it was just too real! i can't take it anymore, clive. i need you to make love to me like you never have before. i need to feel you to make sure that you're real, that you're here and by my side...!"

you grip at him, ready to align the tip of his cock with your entrance when clive stops you. using his strength alone, he takes a hold of your hand before gently laying you back down against the bed. the sheets end up being curled around your legs, painting you in such a seductive light that clive felt himself twitch at the mere sight of you. "no, my love. there is no need to rush our lovemaking, not when you're still so scared."

"c-clive, i...ahhhh...." you let out a soft moan when your lover begins to press hot kisses down your throat. it's then that his large hands begins to softly knead and massage at your aching breasts. he pulls at your hardened nipples, earning yet another gasp from you.

"let me take this time to treat you gently and worship you, my love. that way, i can truly erase your fears while giving you the greatest pleasure." his true blue eyes were hidden due to how dilated his pupils had become, showing you just how much he desired you. his expression, though filled with love, also had a hint of mischief in it as his tongue worked on giving your sensitive skin seductive licks.

he continues to kiss his way down your form, not stopping until he reaches your heaving breasts. you swore you had never felt so good before in your life the moment clive takes one of your nipples into his mouth. the way his tongue encircled your sensitive bud was enough to make you cry out his name as a painful ache was felt between your legs.

with each suck he gave to your skin, the more desperate you felt for him as you kept your legs pressed together in hopes of relieving the painful ache. you could feel your arousal coating your inner thighs as a soft whine of his name falls from your lips. still not letting go of your sensitive mound, clive allows his free hand the pleasure of traveling down your form, not stopping until he reaches the sweet flower in between your legs.

not one to ever resist him, your legs immediately open up, allowing clive to use his thick fingers to lovingly prod and tease at your slick core. letting go of your nipple with an audible 'pop!', clive refocuses his attention to your core, admiring the way it clenched around air, already so desperate for him. "indeed, what a lovely sight."

he teases your outer lips, tracing at your sex while collecting your honey sweet arousal with his fingertips. the way he calls out your name in a hoarse voice sent shivers down your spine, and the moment he coats the evidence of your arousal against his hand before licking it away made your blood turn warm at the sight.

clive kept licking away at your arousal that coats as his fingertips, never once looking away from you when he lets out a guttural moan. "you taste delicious, my love."

spreading your legs so that he could finally settle himself between them, he gruffly demands that you not look away when he finally has a taste of you, wanting to see each and every expression you made as he brought you to heaven with his mouth and fingers alone.

clive gives your thighs a kiss for a brief moment before entirely engulfing your core into his mouth. you could feel every inch of his tongue as it explored your walls, making you toss your head back in response. "c-clive! i-it's so, i can't- i can't think straight!"

you felt your naughty lover smirking against the most intimate part of you, with only the tip his tongue settled against your sex when he mumbles, "then don't think, just look at me and feel me."

it was all too much for you. the moment you felt his finger rubbing against you along with his smooth tongue, you knew you weren't going to last long. the more you looked at him, the more you felt as though you were going to lose your damn mind. he just looked so devastatingly handsome; so completely sinful as he kept devouring your essence- all you had to offer.

with one final suck, you felt your back arch against the bed, feeling your release hit you with such intensity that unladylike obscenities fell from your parted lips. and it was while you were in the midst of riding your high that you felt something familiar, yet achingly massive become sheathed inside of you.

gripping the headboard with his hand, he uses his other hand to spread your legs even further for him. he winces each time he felt your walls convulse around him, but his will was strong enough to keep him from releasing right then and there deep inside of you. "i...i love you so damn much. i can't bare to see you in pain, and i shall gladly give you the power of my love; the proof of the blood coursing though my veins as i carve my love into you."

your breathing was heavy, and you were so sensitive from the force of your first release that you felt another once coming with just as much force. you felt the way your walls clamped down on clive, yet still, he was relentless, gritting his teeth as he continued to pump himself into you.

you kept crying out to him, feeling your nails rake down his muscular back as he kept on thrusting in and out of you. "o-oh please clive, please! don't ever stop!"

you could feel your third release quickly approaching, your hands gripping at the silk sheets settled below you when clive suddenly stopped. his eyes were wild with love and lust for you when he completely pulls out of you, earning a shrill whine from you. suddenly feeling the emptiness from deep within you hurt so badly, and you kept reaching out to him, begging him to come back.

he apologizes to you, pressing a quick kiss against the back of your hand before turning your body to your side. lifting up one of your legs, he tosses it over his shoulder before thrusting back inside of you, this time with the new angle making you see stars. he continues penetrating your slick folds with his aching erection, ready to bring you to heaven one more time as he felt himself grow even bigger from within you.

"come on, my darling love, give me one more. let us come together." clive continues his naughty streak when you feel him place a kiss against your ankle, causing you to cry out. your breasts kept bouncing i tune with his powerful thrusts, and you felt him so deeply from within you that your toes curled in response, making you gasp as you finally came one last time with a shout of his name.

stilling his hips, clive releases inside of your core, finishing his lovemaking with a shout of your name as his cock kept pulsing deep inside of you. he swore he would never tire of the way your walls tried to milk him dry, giving you all of his love.

the pleasure you felt was truly all-consuming, filling you with such happiness that memories of your nightmare slowly began to recede back into the recesses of your mind. clive falls against you, purposely trapping you beneath his weight as he continued to press butterfly kisses across your collarbone. "h-how's that for proof of my well-being?"

"mmm, it's lovely." practically drunk off of the feel of his seed painting your walls, you look behind you and allow clive to press another searing kiss against your lips.

still remaining inside of you, you watch with amusement as clive adjusts the sheets to cover both of your sweaty and naked forms. successfully managing to keep you in his embrace without breaking his physical connection to you, he spends the next several seconds kissing you, reassuring you that he will never leave your side.

"you and i are connected my love. and there is absolutely nothing, nothing at all, that will ever keep me away from you."

you could feel the tears fill your vision when you kiss him once more, "oh, how much i love and adore you, my darling knight."

"words cannot describe my love for you either, my darling queen. now, let's fall back into a peaceful slumber and rest, my love." placing his hand behind your head, he brings you closer to his chest all while wrapping his legs around your waist.

being together in a tangle of limbs, you allow clive's warmth to lull you into a peaceful slumber. no longer did nightmares plague your thoughts-

instead, you found yourself dreaming of little children who had hair the same color as yours with startling blue eyes and a smile remniscent of your lover's.

a.n. - let me post one more story to quench my thirst for clive, and i'll be off this clive rosfield train 😳

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#.stories #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield x reader #ff16 x reader

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chaoticforever · 4 years ago

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The Storm Within | Yandere Bruce Banner x Male! Reader

A/N: Requested. Bruce is only a slight yandere as requested. Hope you like it!

Avengers Tower was beautiful at night.

The whole room was lit up by the enormous precious stone crystal fixture, looming over the middle of the huge room. The huge open glass windows offered a great view of the completely dark sky covered with sparkling stars that looked like scattered moondust and the beautiful zinc-silver glowing moon.

Tony Stark had decided to throw a party at the tower to celebrate his successful new project and because, well, he's Tony Stark. He's the best party thrower in New York and he loves throwing them.

Bruce Banner stood next to the bar with Natasha and a drink in his hand. He did not want to be here. He wasn't a big fan of parties, but Tony forced him to come, even though he only wanted to go work in his lab.

"Bruce and Natasha!"

Bruce looked up from the ground to see Tony walking over to them with a man he has never seen before. He felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes met your E/C eyes. You're stunning E/C eyes.

You were wearing casual clothes and had smooth skin. Bruce noticed how your (hair type) hair made your eyes stand out and shine. You were very handsome and looked really young.

He wondered who this mysterious man was. He cleared his throat as Tony came over and introductions happened.

"Bruce. Natasha, this is Y/N L/N. Y/N, this is Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner." Tony introduced as you shook hands with Natasha.

"Are you Y/N L/N from L/N enterprise?" Natasha asked and received a nod in confirmation from you.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I know all about L/N enterprise. You do great work, and you're a great man."

"Thank you. You have a tough grip, I like you already." You grinned as she chuckled before leaving to find Clint.

You turned to face Bruce and extended your hand out towards him and he took your hand in his, quickly shaking it. Maybe a little too quickly, but he loved the feeling of your hands in his.

"Nice to meet you, Bruce. It's wonderful to meet someone who is such a genius and has seven PhDs along with being The Hulk. A little scary, but very cool."

"Hey, I'm a genius and I'm right here!"

"Oh, hush, Tony." You said as you kept your eyes solely on Bruce who blushed from under your stare. He felt oddly calm around you, which he didn't feel around people he meets for the first time.

"It's nice to meet you too, Y/N. How do you two know each other?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible, as he tried not to sound like a jealous lover, but he needed to know how you and Tony knew each other.

"Oh, Y/N and I go way back."

"Yeah, I used to work as his assistant before Pepper, even though I didn't need to because my parents left me a lot of money. I was there for this idiot when he got really drunk and we hit it off great outside of work and became friends."

"Ever since then, it's been a crazy ride with this man. He's like my long-lost little brother who's as handsome as I am."

"Aw, thanks, Tones. You're like the older brother I never had who's as smart and as amazing as me."

You playfully punched Tony in the arm as you both smiled at each other. The two of you were alike in lots of ways. Bruce felt a spark of jealousy and rage when he saw how close you and Tony were before he realized that you two looked at each other as friends, which made him relax.

"Anyways Bruceybear, I have something to ask you." Tony suddenly said to him.

"What is it?" Bruce asked, his ears perking up at hearing this statement.

"Well, how would you feel if Y/N became part of the team as one of our science bros? He's as much of a genius as we are."

"Not to mention that I can help you with various experiments and even be a test subject." You chimed in with a smile.

A smile that is so universal that even a newborn baby knows by heart. A smile that made the stars shine brighter in the night sky. A smile that made the lights in this room shine brighter and seemed to be quite contagious because Bruce found himself smiling back at you.

"I think it would be great to have you join us, science bros." Bruce spoke truthfully, "And if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"How old do I look to you, Brucey."

Bruce smirked at the tone in your voice, "If I had to guess, I'd say you are in your early to mid-20s."

You groaned from hearing that answer, "Why does everyone keep thinking that? I'm in my early 30s. Hell, even a guy at the liquor store asked me to show my ID because I looked too young to be there."

"It's all because of your good genes." Tony simply added in.

The next half-hour was spent with Tony being his sarcastic self, the adventures and crazy times you and Tony spent together, and various science topics.

"Okay, Bruce. I'm going to take Y/N to meet the other Avengers and some others before we get drunk and have fun."

"Aw, and here I was having a good conversation with Bruce, but I'll see you again soon and it's good to meet you."

You and Bruce smiled at each other before Tony placed his hand on the arch of your lower back and led you away to the others.

"Looks like someone has a crush." Natasha spoke up beside Bruce, appearing out of nowhere with a grin.

Bruce blushed, "No, I don't." He said in a defensive tone, but the blush upon his face said otherwise.

He can admit that he loved seeing you laugh and smile with Tony. He loved hearing your mesmerizing voice and had a wonderful conversation with you.

And there was something else.

He felt content because you treated him as a normal person and not some freak accident. He also felt something else, a connection of sorts and he wondered if you felt it, too.

He was genuinely pleased that you have become part of the science team and that he would see you again soon.

XXXXX XXXXX

"Hey bros. I've come with the goodies!" You announced loudly, stepping inside the lab to see Tony and Bruce working on something.

Bruce immediately stopped what he was doing and looked over at you.

He didn't sleep well last night. Tossed and turned for most of the night and had a nightmare. The coffee machine exploded on him earlier, so he was irritated, to say the least, but seeing you managed to make his day a little better.

"Good, give me them." Tony demanded as you rolled your eyes as he took the bag. He moaned when the delicious treat was shoved into his mouth, "Gosh, these are so good. Bruce, you have got to try this man's cookies."

Without warning, Tony shoved a cookie into Bruce's mouth, much to his dismay.

"Wow..." Bruce couldn't help, but moan in delight and deliciousness. This had to be the best treat that he's ever tasted, "That was really good. You made these cookies yourself?"

You nodded, your lips curling upward into a smile, "Yeah, my uncle taught me how to bake. I'll bring you guys some more soon."

"Good. These are so good, I can't get enough of them." Tony said, wiping some crumbs off his face.

"I'm not surprised, you always eat all of them all the time."

"And I don't plan on stopping either."

You chuckled before shaking your head, "So, what are we working on today?"

The next two hours consisted of crazy experiments and them using you as a test subject for armor and weapons.

Bruce would always be close to you when you both worked on something. He felt so safe standing next to you like he didn't need to get angry or Hulk out when he's in your presence. Despite him knowing you for a short period, he felt safer with you than anyone else.

Unfortunately, Hulk wanted to come out when you announced to the room that you were meeting up with your ex and had to leave.

"We'll be at the mall and I'll be gone for about two hours. Don't destroy the lab." You said and walked out of the lab, heading to your very own (favorite car).

"Hey, do you know who's Y/N's ex-boyfriend is?" Bruce asked Tony.

Tony nodded, "Oh, yeah. Moose Capaldi, a real estate agent. They dated for a while, but ended on good terms, why?"

"No reason."

"Yeah, sure."

Tony chuckled, knowing that Bruce had a crush on you. He wondered if he should play matchmaker for you two.

Bruce wanted to pretend that he wasn't jealous, but how could he not when you are going out with your ex-boyfriend? You two could probably patch things up and have sex. Jealousy and rage rose inside of him as his fingertips slowly turned a greenish color.

So, when Pepper came to talk to Tony about something important, Bruce left and found himself walking into the food court at the mall, seeking out a man with H/C hair.

It didn't take him long and eventually, he spotted you sitting at a table across from an attractive man. You both talked and laughed and when the attractive man reached over and touched your face is when Bruce lost it. A low growl erupted from his throat as he started turning green.

You laughed, "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious." Moose let out a laugh, too, "And then we - what the fuck?"

Moose's gaze was suddenly focused on something behind you and you turned around, your eyes widening at what you saw.

Hulk was now hulked out in the middle of the mall and screams erupted from people's throats as they ran for their lives.

"Hulk smash!" He picked up a table and chucked it across the room in Moose's direction as you both stood up and hopped over the counter, hiding underneath.

"WHY IS HE TRYING TO KILL ME!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" You shouted back as your hands started to shake before you stood up and Moose gave you a look.

"What are you doing?!" He whispered.

"Shh." You hushed softly as you hopped over the counter and slowly walked over to Hulk who looked down at you, "Hey, Hulk. Do you know me?"

"Hulk knows Y/N. My Y/N." He grinned.

You chuckled, "Yes, I'm Y/N. And do you think you can calm down and transform back into Banner? You're kind of scaring everyone here right now."

"Would that make Y/N happy?"

"Yes, that would make me very happy."

You watched as Hulk shrunk down to his normal size, turning himself back into Bruce, naked and all.

Moose came up behind you and handed you his jacket. You took it and wrapped it around Bruce's body as he stared at you with an apologetic look on his face.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

"It's okay. Let's get you back to the tower now," You responded and turned to face Moose, "I'll call you later."

Moose nodded, still feeling a little shaken up at what just happened as you drove Bruce back to the tower and he went straight to his room to change.

You, on the other hand, had to pay for all the damage Hulk caused at the mall. Bruce came back into the living room, fully clothed, and sat down on the couch as you hung up the phone.

"You want to explain to me what that was at the mall?" You sat down next to him and looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"Not really."

"Well, considering I paid a lot of money for the damage you caused, I deserve an answer. Why were you there? And what caused you to Hulk out?" He was silent, "Bruce!"

"I was jealous, okay?! I was jealous because you went on a date with Moose and you two could get back together-"

"Whoa, imma stop you right there," You interrupted him, laughing a little, "That wasn't a date. He was my first love but were only good friends now. And that's all we'll ever be. We were catching up and he's getting married to a guy named Colby, and wanted to know if I would come to their wedding."

"Oh." Bruce was now blushing from how much of an idiot he was for getting jealous for no reason.

"Yeah, oh. Besides, I like someone else."

"Who?!"

"He's sitting right next to me."

You smirked, leaning over, and pressed your lips onto Bruce's soft lips. He immediately kissed back and put his hand on the side of your face, deepening the kiss. Soon, you both broke the kiss and gasped for air.

"Are you sure that you want to be with me?" Bruce asked, "You'll have to deal with the other guy who lurks beneath the shadows."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of him." You said and Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Okay, maybe a little, but he's pretty cool and I'll learn to deal with him. And something tells me that you and I are going to have many more good kisses."

Truthfully, when you saw Hulk, you felt absolutely terrified to your utter core, but you'll learn to deal with the other guy.

"What makes you think we'll have more kisses?"

"Just a feeling that I have and my feelings are usually, always correct."

You dropped your head in Bruce's lap, stretching your legs out across the couch and Bruce dropped his hand in your hair.

"Are you positive that you want to get involved with me? I'll get angry a lot."

You hummed, sitting up and taking the drink off the table and throwing it in his face. Bruce sat up quickly and gasped, looking at you in wonder as his eyes turned a little green.

You laughed, "Don't get angry." You whispered in his ear and ran as he ran after you.

That day had to have been the best day of Bruce's life. He truly felt alive. And with all the shit you had done, Hulk didn't come out. Not once. The sound of your voice is what kept him calm.

It was therapeutic. Like your voice could be used as a meditation tape for someone to listen to every night.

And Bruce, who has seven PhDs, was wrong and you were right. There were many more kisses between you two, but none of those kisses could even compare to the kiss on your wedding day.

Of course, Tony was your best man who shared the most embarrassing stories of you, and the craziest adventures you both had with each other.

Bruce was still protective and only got possessive when he thought of someone as a threat. He wouldn't want to be stuck with anyone else but you.

XXXXX XXXXX

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killerandhealerqueen · 4 years ago

Text

恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer Fic Masterlist

Masterlist of all my fics here on tumblr for the 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer Fandom (you can also find all of these on AO3)

It’s a Date

Let Me Take Care of You

It All Started With a Hug

In Too Deep (read on AO3)

Falling Cherry Blossoms

Countryside Sunset

Even a Monster’s Heart Can Change

Till You Tear Me Apart (read on AO3)

Sing You to Sleep

Always Been Yours

No Secrets

Killer and Healer

Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

Don’t Leave Me

Together We’re Whole

You’re a Good Doctor, Chen Yuzhi

Beautiful Star

And a Baby Makes Four

I’m Not That Girl

Every Nightmare Has an End

Soft Touches and Gentle Caresses

You’re Not Bad Luck

Don’t Touch My Sister

Parent-Teacher Conference

What If?

I Thought You Were Dead!

You Love Me

Demons

Comfort in the Police Department

Blackmailing for Vacation

Protective Parents, Yu Tangchun and Zhan Junbai

Knight In Shining Armor

S.C.I. 谜案集 (read on AO3)

The Witch and the Prince

The Mob Boss and the Kindergarten Teacher

A Monk and His Kitten

Around You, I am Soft

Pull the Trigger

I’ve Got Your Back

They’re Dead, Aren’t They?

Stiches and Leather Jackets

Memory Loss

Unexpected Visitor

Violence Is Never the Answer...Except When It Is

Murder Husbands

Protective Dads Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi

Blood In, Blood Out

Love at First Meow

This is an Art Heist, Baby!

Jing City Meets Hong Kong

I’m Not Losing You Again

Breathe With Me

There’s Always a Silver Lining

I’ll Be Your Guide (read on AO3)

Falling In Love With a Vampire

The Doctor and the Vampire

Mermaid’s Tears

Children Make Great Matchmakers

Bullies and Birthday Cakes

Anxiously Waiting

Breaking and Entering

No Mercy

No Regrets

Beautiful Scars

A Perfect Christmas

Red Lipstick

路人甲 | Passerby (read on AO3)

Undercover

Fever

新年快乐 | Happy New Year

Good Kitty

Chocolate-Covered Strawberries and Roses

恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer (read on AO3)

Pandora’s Box

Don’t Touch Jiang Yuelou’s Doctor

A Beautiful Day with the Man I Love

You’re Safe Now

Asking Permission

The Detective and the Assassin (read on AO3)

Sleep Well

Into the Woods (read on AO3)

Safe and Sound (read on AO3)

Chen Yuzhi is MINE

Two Heads are Better than One

Miscommunication, My Beloved (read on AO3)

The Doctor and the Demon (read on AO3)

Ready for War (read on AO3)

Pretty Eyes, Pretty Knives (read on AO3)

Sing For Me (read on AO3)

Fate Led Me to You (read on AO3)

Cross Jurisdiction (read on AO3)

The Demon and the Angel (read on AO3)

The Revolution (read on AO3)

Prettiest Flower in Town (read on AO3)

Sunshine and Pomegranates (read on AO3)

So This Is What Love Feels Like (read on AO3)

My Everything

The Demon of Jing City (read on AO3)

Burn the World to the Ground for You (read on AO3)

The Doctor's Bodyguard (read on AO3)

圣痕 | Stigmata (read on AO3)

Beast & Feast (read on AO3)

托斯卡的狗 | Dogs of Tosca (read on AO3)

Tattoo on My Arm and In My Heart (read on AO3)

Stake Me Through the Heart (read on AO3)

You're a Good Father, Jiang Yuelou (read on AO3)

Hand in Bloody Hand (read on AO3)

My Pirate, My Prince (read on AO3)

灵魂档案 | The Spirit Files (read on AO3)

死神 | The Grim Reapers (read on AO3)

Villain and Healer (read on AO3)

心弦 | Heart Strings (read on AO3)

SPY x FAMILY (read on AO3)

The Demon Hunter and the Fox Spirit (read on AO3)

Jing City MER: Mobile Emergency Room

The Moon Shines Bright Over the Woodlands

No More Secrets, No More Lies (read on AO3)

Stolen Hearts (read on AO3)

如何留住一个黑社会分子 | Gang no Kaikata (read on AO3)

Bitch Better Have My Doctor (read on AO3)

Bring You Home (read on AO3)

Mr. Jiang & Mr. Chen (read on AO3)

I'll Be There For You (read on AO3)

The Dragon and the God (read on AO3)

The Red-Light District (read on AO3)

Soul Bound (read on AO3)

My Loyalty Lies With You

Ain’t Afraid to Die

Eye for an Eye

命运的红线 | The Red Strings of Fate (read on AO3)

The Past Comes Knocking

Come What May (read on AO3)

I'll Dirty My Hands for You (read on AO3)

Things Aren't Always What They Seem (read on AO3)

秘密生活| Mitsumei (read on AO3)

CSI: Jing City (read on AO3)

A Debt Must Be Paid (read on AO3)

Dancing in the Rain (read on AO3)

I Can Handle Trouble (read on AO3)

The City of Angels & Demons (read on AO3)

The Triad Leader I Rescued Has His Eyes on Me?! (read on AO3)

Wild Roses and Pretenders (read on AO3)

药剂师日记 | The Apothecary Diaries (read on AO3)

Our Dining Table (read on AO3)

Roses are for Lovers (read on AO3)

Monster Like Me (read on AO3)

As Long As We Both Shall Live (read on AO3)

For All Eternity (read on AO3)

Visiting Angels (read on AO3)

Second Chances (read on AO3)

Something Real (read on AO3)

Curse of the Mermaid (read on AO3)

My One and Only (read on AO3)

Die Trying (read on AO3)

#Killer and Healer #fic masterlist

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hanniejji · 4 years ago

Text

little king

[ child!diluc x caretaker!reader ]

summary: normal kids would dream of princes and princesses, a castle, and a knight in shining armor. but diluc is different. he dreams of a night spent drinking grape juice with his hero in the form of yourself.

note: surprised myself with how fast i made this lmao also somewhat a continuation of this and dedicated to this hoe @3rdgymbros | m.list

words: 707 lmao mystic messenger | warnings: "y/n" is mentioned

"kaeya? are you awake?" diluc peaks over the other boy's bed, pausing to stare at the breathing pattern of his adoptive brother. kaeya gave no sign of waking up, totally knocked out from playing as the captive earlier. diluc softly smiles at this, glad that no nightmare is plaguing his brother's peaceful sleep. he shuffles over the bed carefully and pulls the blanket over kaeya, tucking him in like his father would.

"sleep well, dear brother."

he slides off the bed, going over the door to walk down the hallway and into the kitchen, the pitter patter of his feet almost inaudible if it wasn't so quiet. once he reaches the kitchen door, he stands on the tip of his toes, reaching up to turn the door knob.

"and what are you doing up in the middle of the night, little king?"

diluc gasp and turned around, almost tripping on his own feet if it wasn't for your hands on his shoulders.

"y/n!"

"shush, little king, you'll wake up the whole mansion if you keep up with that tone of voice," you teased, a finger booping his nose playfully, "now, pray tell, why are you wide awake? shouldn't you be in bed right now?" you feign a gasp, a hand over your lips for an extra effect, "don't tell me you dragged kaeya out of bed again! didn't i tell you to stop teaching him your mischievous schemes? you're already a handful yourself, diluc!"

diluc pouts, softly whining at your words. he's smart enough to know that you're just teasing him, he's gotten used to this trick of yours long before kaeya was adopted.

"first of all, kaeya's peacefully asleep in bed, i promise i didn't wake him up! well, i was going to but i didn't because he looks really tired, and second, i—" he paused, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, "... i just wanted some grape juice."

"aww, that was such an honest answer," you coo, your fingers pinching his cheeks softly, ignoring his adorable grumbling, "you could've just asked for me to make some for you, little king. my room is just a few doors away from yours."

"but i didn't want to bother you or the maids, you've already spent the whole day playing with me and kaeya," he mumbles, his face unconsciously leaning on your hands when you place them flat on his cheeks, thumb rubbing the spot you just pinched. you sighed at his reasoning, carefully lifting him up into your arms. you opened the door to the kitchen, before setting him down at the counter.

"you're never going to be a bother to anyone, diluc," you place a peck on his forehead, "stay here, alright? i'll make us some grape juice, aaaand maybe a few cookies from earlier, how about that?"

his scarlet eyes widened and his smile beamed sunlight across the moon lit kitchen. as usual, he stays still on the counter, his posture rivals that of an adult and patience that you won't usually find in children. his manner never fails to surprise you, totally not for his age.

"understood!"

you place one last peck on his forehead before fetching him his grape juice and cookies, placing them on a small tray for him to enjoy.

"why don't we go outside in the garden? it's better than this dark kitchen, isn't it?" you lean closer, whispering in his ears, "if you want, i'll let you wake up kaeya so he can have a taste of your favorite drink. he hasn't tried grape juice before, hasn't he?"

diluc perks up at the opportunity of spending time with his brother, tugging at your arms to carry him down the floor but he paused, pointed eyes at you with a suspicious look.

"what?"

"you promise to not tell father? he'll scold me if he finds out that i woke kaeya at night again," he says with a pout.

"i promise, this will only be between the three of us."

"pinky promise?"

you internally coo at his attempt to make a serious face, his hand raised with his pinky out. you gently linked your pinky with his.

"i promise, now go get kaeya before i change my mind."

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beskarberry · 4 years ago

Text

Star-crossed

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 11

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you."

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9.k oh no

Content warnings: Major angst, nightmares, premonitions, auditory hallucinations, unsavory parental figures, paranoia, domestic disputes, child endangerment, violence. No smut in this one, the only thing getting fucked in this chapter are our feelings.

A/N: This one hurt to write, there were definitely some tears shed while putting this together this so fair warning do not expect this one to end well. :(

High above the metal decking of the engine room, you were elbow deep in an exhaust port, clearing away the slag to replace one of the durasteel plates that had started to warp from the excess heat. You were singing, as you always did when you worked; a vulgar, brassy shanty that was almost louder than the reciprocating scraper in your hands. You spat and wiped a wayward chunk of grease from your mouth, the taste of it oily and burnt. No matter how many times you’d been taught the lesson of ‘keep your mouth closed’ you couldn’t help it. Whenever you worked, you sang.

Raucous as a mudhorn in heat and louder than a full grown krayt, your songs were a favorite of your unit, and the chief of engineering would often come stand a while and listen; though the moment he was caught eavesdropping he would scold you for not working harder. Tough love is what he called it. He was yelling at you now from far below at the base of the hyperdrive engine, and you pushed your goggles up your grime-smeared face to see him.

Bilgerat! Get’cher ass down ‘ere, posthaste!

Yessir!

Now you were standing in front of the chief, though there was another man standing there too. Tall, thin and pale with eyes like a dead fish and a tight, steelset jaw. You didn’t recognize him, but he looked important, his lapel shining with the badge of a high-ranking officer.

You there, girl, sing.

Sir?

Don’t argue with me, child, I heard you from three decks over. Sing.

Being watched made you nervous, but you did as you were ordered. You sang something, maybe everything, either way the stranger watched you, no, judged you, his eyes never leaving your face. The dead-eyed man furrowed his brow and stroked his chin thoughtfully, but you had already stopped watching him, caught in your song, powerless against the siren song that was your own voice.

It always felt so good to let loose, your voice could set your soul free, and yet it also felt like it was pulling something in. Something greater than yourself, flowing through you, connecting you to every living thing that ever was or ever will be. Your boots were firmly stuck aboard the starship called the Wyvern’s Tongue, but your songs carried your heart to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to worlds beyond your durasteel home.

The humming is what woke Din up, though he hadn’t slept much through the night anyway, too suspicious of the artifact he had found aboard his ship. Fully armored, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall of the borrowed quarters he had stood guard over his tiny clan, dozing in and out of restless sleep.

He lifted his helmeted head to zero in on the noise you were making. It was one he was familiar with, you often hummed in your sleep, it was something he loved about you. The warm, wavering sound coming from the floor where you had made a nest of quilts for yourself was comforting, but tonight something about it seemed off.

He watched you sleep, noticing the way that your fingers twitched and your legs kicked behind you slightly. It wasn’t like you to be so energetic, so distressed. Clutched to your chest the foundling purred softly, but you didn’t seem to hear him. Your hums turned to whimpers, making the Mandalorian’s blood run cold.

She’s having a nightmare.

She’s perfect. I’ll take her.

But sir, she’s m’best bilgie. How’ll I-

Is that insubordination I hear, Chief Wellers?

N-no Cap’n Forescythe. She’s all yours.

Good. Come along, little sparrow, your talents are being wasted here.

You remember being so scared, looking to your chief for reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Though you’d lived aboard the Wyvern’s Tongue since she had left Corellia’s port you’d never actually met the captain. The starcruiser was well over a thousand meters long and home to hundreds of crewmates, putting bilgerats far below the captain’s sphere of influence. What did he want from you?

Each step you took in your dream you got taller, your strides lengthening as you grew from a gangly teenager to a young woman. You were at the bridge now, being sat in a stiff but comfortable chair. You were taught to relay orders, delegate operations, interpret incoming transmissions and their origins. It was a station high above your birthright, but you were never one to turn down a challenge, and you bullied your way to excellence; much to your captain’s pride.

Captain Forescythe was usually described as a cold, unforgiving man, but he treated you remarkably well for a boat-brat dug up from the scuppers, much to the disdain of his fellow officers. He told you that you were a natural talent, gifted by the Maker with a voice so strong, so beautiful, almost like he revered you for it. Much like the ship's namesake, the Wyvern’s captain lorded over you like treasure, jealousy guarding you like a priceless jewel.

The captain’s precious little pet.

Sing, my little Sparrow.

Unable to spectate any longer, Din crawled over to you, brushing an armored hand over your sweat-streaked face. “Mesh’la? Are you alright? Wake up cyare, you’re having a nightmare.”

Wake up.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Once where a beautiful, peaceful world had once been there was now only dust. The Death Star your ship was escorting had succeeded in her mission, and you had been graciously allowed to watch as the mechanical moon obliterated a billion lives as one would exterminate a nest of roaches. Around you your crew cheered, hooray for the Empire! Death to the Resistance! But you couldn’t hear them.

You heard screaming.

Clawing at your ears and squeezing your eyes closed did nothing to make it stop. As if millions of voices were funneling directly into your skull.

You ran. Ran through the labyrinthian hallways, ran as fast as you could to your quarters. Even your blankets would not protect you, the wailing only growing louder.

Murderers! Monsters! You killed us! Why? Why why why!

You ran from your tiny room, backpack slung over your shoulder, filled with what few things you owned. Ran all the way to the hangar. You’d worked on interceptors a thousand times before when your hands were still small, when you could weasel your way into the narrowest of spaces and prove yourself worthy of not getting jettisoned. Knife in hand you unlocked the security protocols easier than picking your teeth, and the hangar fell away beneath you.

Turning back one last time to glance at the artificial home you had known for so long you saw a figure standing there. Was it the captain? Had he come to stop you? Stop his precious Sparrow from flying away?

No. They were blue, flickering in and out of corporeality. Their face took up your entire mindscape now, their features ever changing, like you were looking at more than one face at a time. The eldritch being’s eyes bored through yours, shifting rapidly from those of a man to those of a child to those of an elder, a hundred lives all demanding to be seen at once. Their mouth did not move when it spoke.

“i̴͊̎t̴'s̸̉͋ ̵͋c̸͑ȏ̸̕m̸͐͛i̸̽͘n̷̾͂ǵ̵”

You sucked air like your lungs had never known oxygen, nearly launching the foundling into orbit as you bolted upright. Beskar burdened arms coiled around you the next second, and you stung your knuckles on his armor trying to fight him off in your panic.

“Ger’off’a me! It wasn’t my fault! I’m sorry! Please!”

“Cyare! Stop! You’re having a nightmare, it’s ok I’ve got you!” Battleborne muscles held you tight against a cold plate of steel while you thrashed until you were coherent. Husband. You let your body relax against your oathsworn and wept, deep, heaving sobs that tore your throat apart and crackled your ribs. Soft shushing noises came through Din’s modulator next to your ear, but the cold metal of his armor brought you little comfort.

“I-I’m s-s-sor-ry.” You stuttered into the fabric of his cowl, the roughhewn cloth soaked with tears. Strong fingers carded through your dampish hair, still not dried all the way from your shower only a few hours ago. Din pressed his palm against the back of your head, burying you in the crook of his shoulder where he could protect you from whatever had scared you. The yellowed tips of his gloves bumped against your unburdened ear cuffs with each pass of his hand, but the leather scraping the metal couldn’t drown out the whispers that still oozed from your thoughts.

Why why why why why why...

“It’s alright, cyar’ika, I’m here. Grogu’s here.” Without tearing your eyes away from the safe haven of his cloak you groped blindly for the baby, finding the disheveled youngling and pulling him in tight. “Can you tell me what happened?” Din asked, his modulated voice soft with worry. You shook your head against your partner. “Alright, that’s ok.”

-ỉ̶t'̸͑̋́̂s̸ ̵̝͕̏̀͠͝c̷̬͙̃̽͌̑̊o̷̅͑̓̈́m̴̧͓͈̭̃͂́̽͌͑ǐ̶̓̕n̷̓̋̚g̵͕͙͎͊̀͊̽!̶̑̀-

You gasped and pulled away from your husband’s comfort, eyes wider than moons, pupils shrunken to pinpoints. Gloved hands found your face, cupping your cheeks and trying to get you to look into his hidden honeywells that were searching your eyes. Unblinking, you looked right through him.

“Can you hear that?” You whispered, your voice far, far away.

“Hear what?”

-I̴̭̊̚͘͘T̷́̽̕S̴̔̅̈́ ̸̋C̸̀͋Ỏ̸̉̄͝M̸̐͂I̶N̷̽͗̈̌G̵͓̎̈̊̀͛͘͠!̶!̷̤̏-

“That!” you shrieked, making both your boys jump. You clawed at your ears, though you knew that wouldn’t help, the voices were coming from inside. “I-I have.. I have to go! I have to go now!” You tried to spring up off the floor, but your arm was caught in the iron grip you knew and trusted, keeping you at your knees. “I have to warn Alewyn!”

“Cyar’ika what are you talking about? Warn her about what?”

The phantom voice wailed again, and you doubled over from the force of it, sending a fresh wave of tears down your face. Din was getting scared now, his eyes wide with worry behind the visor, his throat bobbing around dry swallows. You’d never woken up like this before, so distraught and inconsolable, and it was making him feel helpless. He couldn’t put binders on your emotions, grapple with your fears, slay your inner demons.

“Let go!” You roared and flew from his grasp, tripping over your faceplate and the pile of quilts as you blasted out the door, sprinting down the Sunskate’s curving corridors towards the bridge with your foundling stuffed under your arm. Haunting voices chased you through the halls, making you deaf to the armored thunder that was following dutifully behind.

You charged through the bulkhead to the bridge, nearly busting the durasteel door off its hinges when you flew through it, skittering to a halt in front of the viewport. With wild eyes you searched the void, ignoring the concerned questions that were being asked of you. Where is it where is it where is it?! From corner to corner you scanned, locking your red-rimmed eyes on every flicker, every spark.

Nothing.

Nothing for miles.

Slowly you became aware of those around you, the soft leather gloves of your mate pulling on your face and the warm but worried voice of the Sunskate’s captain.

“Cyare?”

“Tra’laar?”

“Patu?”

Your legs gave out under you and you let yourself be caught in the steelbound arms of your husband, the two of you sinking to the floor with the foundling still locked to your chest. Terror replaced itself with scalding embarrassment, making you bury your unblinking eyes in the foundling’s forgiving tummy. Your eyelids wouldn’t close no matter how hard you willed them to, because they knew that somewhere, out there,

Was a dragon.

“What’s wrong with her? Did you do something to upset her?!” Alewyn hissed, becoming defensive of her ill-begotten rescue.

“No! She had a nightmare, I think. Cyar’ika whatever it is, it’s not real. There’s nothing out there, come back to me, please.” Mando’s loving pleas and careful touches went unrecognized, no matter how diligent they were.

What finally drew you back to reality was the gentle pat pat pat of fat baby paws on your face. You turned your wilted gaze to the foundling, the embarrassment of being seen so vulnerable only growing stronger and more painful. “I-I’m s-sorry, Goober, you s-sh-sh-shouldn’t have to see me like-”

Pap.

Baby beans smacked you softly on your forehead and closed his eyes, making you furrow your brow. “What are you- oh.” Your eyes slid closed, and a warm peacefulness breezed through you, exorcising the whispering voices between your ears. You took a deep, somewhat stuttered breath and let go, feeling whatever weird baby magic the foundling possessed flow through you. The night terror faded to the back of your mind, dissipating like mist until it evaporated entirely from your thoughts.

“Thank you…” You whispered, nuzzling the baby’s chubby belly. Heart rate steady and breath even, you leaned back against the man who was still holding you up. Din rested the edge of his helmet on the top of your head and hummed, a low, brassy tone, sounding relieved. Where his hands were wrapped around your sides you felt the slow roll of his palms, warm and protective. “I’m sorry, Mando, Alewyn, I don’t know what came over me...”

“S’all right, missy, t’ain’t the first time I’ve seen someone go wailin’ through the halls. We all have our burdens to bear.” Alewyn combed a dainty hand through your hair, brushing it out of your face. “Good thing them boys’ve gotcha though.” She glanced between the visor of the Mandalorian that was coiled so defensively around you and the little green baby you held so dearly. “I can tell they love ya.”

You nodded sheepishly and let Din help you to your feet, his hands never leaving you lest you waver. Angrily you wiped at the corners of your eyes, trying to cover your shame as the three of you walked back to your room. When the bedroom door closed behind you, you went straight for the porthole window, cautiously searching the stars again.

“What are you looking for?” Din asked hesitantly, “What… what were you dreaming about?”

“Um. I had a dream we were… under attack.” You lied, your eyes still locked to the void. If you could help it, the secrets of your past would someday die with you, though by the sounds of the whispers you had heard not even death could keep its mouth closed.

“Must have been one hell of a nightmare, I’ve never seen you like this. Is there anything I can do for you?” Din the ever-thoughtful asked, draping a quilt over your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from where you had been sleeping on it, the weight of it reassuring on your back. You shook your head. He glanced at the back of one vambrace, “We’re still another hour from the station, why don’t we get our things packed and back on the Crest? Would that be ok?”

It was better than going back to sleep, you didn’t trust your own thoughts not to terrorize you again, and you nodded enthusiastically. Din didn’t allow you to lift a finger while he zoomed around the little room, collecting your armor and laundry and then you, scooping you and the foundling up in his arms.

“Put me down, tinman, I’m not helpless!” you chided with a weak little laugh.

“There’s my girl. Nope, I’m carrying you. Deal with it.”

You sighed in a heavy, mocking tone, covering your face with your mask like a shy child while he proudly tromped back to the hangar to where your immobile home lay. Once you were all lifted up the half-hanging ramp you dropped graclessly onto a crate with a huff. You were beat, but it felt nice to be back in your ship, the familiarity adding to whatever calming effect the foundling had used. The little green terror was drowsy in your arms, spent from using his wild baby powers to vanquish your demons. You kissed his wrinkly little head and swaddled him in the quilt Din had accidentally stolen for you.

Tinman was digging through the larder, looking for something for breakfast and found a pack of biscuits to give you. Though the suspicious item he still carried in his pocket had kept him sleepless, the need to care for his loved ones overrode every other instinct, making him forget it for the time being. You weren’t hungry, if anything you were nauseous from your night terror, but Din was insistent; and you nibbled on a bright blue macaroon, splitting bites with the sleepy baby.

Eventually a soft beeping chimed from the Mandalorian’s vambrace, stationfall in fifteen minutes. Outside the ship you heard a holler, and you strode to the ramp to find Alewyn and Lilah, ready to bid thee farewell.

”Alright, so!” Alewyn exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Here’s the dealy-o. The Sunskate can’t actually… dock with the station. M’good ole dad’s still got hunters on the loose, never know when they’ll turn up, eh?” She laughed. “Your ship’s gonna have’ta dock on’er own, but Lilah’s patchwork should hold ya together long ‘nough for the service droids’ta pick ya up.”

You ignored the loud, audible groan from behind you. “I think we can manage that.” You started to hop down off the ramp, but the spry Togruta was already climbing up into the Crest, barreling you over. Alewyn the Affectionate squeezed your ribs so hard you felt the air leave your lungs, making you grunt ugly. One of her nimble hands disappeared from you into her many secret pockets, then snuck into one of yours, leaving a sizable weight of credits behind. “Wynnie!” you hissed against her montral, “Not again!”

“S’least I can do, since we nearly ripped that old bucket’a shit in half and you spared another spacer from the slab.” She held you out at arms length, bobbling her montrals at you with an arrogant grin. “Take care’a yerself, missy. And you too, Mando! Be good to this woman’n’er son or so help me!” The princess raised a fist at him that turned into an outstretched hand. He shook it hesitantly, but the lavender lady reeled him in, and you giggled at his hover-hands while she squeezed the life out of him.

Lilah helped her wife down from the ramp, and the two of them waved before hefting the ramp closed, sealing you inside with your crew. You dashed up the ladder to the cockpit, looking for a horn to honk but there wasn’t one, giving you another item to add to your mental grocery list. Din followed you up with Grogu in tow, taking his seat in the captain’s chair.

The Sunskate’s hangar jaws slid open slowly, pulling a blue force field over the stretch of stars. Far ahead you could just barely make out the shiny little dot where the station was, glittering just a little brighter than the stars themselves. With the cockpit door tightly sealed, Din carefully started up the old gunship, and on instinct you covered Grogu’s ears to protect him from the inevitable backfire.

The Razor Crest sputtered to life and slowly floated out of the hangar door, relying more on inertia than propulsion to get her towards the station. Out the window you saw the enormous rayship that had carried you here bank away from you, the starlight glittering briefly on her copper-colored belly before her propulsion engines flared back to life, and soon enough she was nothing more than a comet streaking through the void.

Din fussed with the radio transponder, opening up a hailing frequency that would alert the attention of the station droids, and it wasn’t long before a large transport unit was making its way to you. The automatic taxi magnetized itself to the roof of the Crest, easing the strain off of your damaged engines.

A robotic voice beeped through the comms: “THANK YOU FOR CHOS-ING EL-GON AU-TO-MA-TED SER-VI-CES. SMILE-Y FACE. CO-MEN-CING TRANS-PORT TO HAN-GAR SEV-EN-TEEN FOR EV-AL-U-A-TION AND RE-PAIR. HAVE A NICE DAY. SMILE-Y FACE”

Din groaned, his fists creaking on the steering wheel. “Why’s it gotta be droids…”

You shrugged in your chair. “Elgon’s old as dirt, prob’ly older than the Crest. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t anything on it that wasn’t animatronic.”

“Great.”

Ahead of you, the station dominated your viewport, humming with a myriad of activity. A neutral starport, Elgon boasted service to any and all as long as they had coin in their pockets, regardless of their commendations or crimes. You’d been to the old outpost many a time, both on your own and while you still wore a uniform, and excitedly you remembered a particular sweets shop that used to operate in the center.

Your service droid was nearly at the station now, approaching a large closed hangar with the number seventeen painted on it in orange Basic. You playfully kicked at the side of the pilots’ seat where Din’s butt was unguarded by the arm rests. “You excited to get fixed up, bucket boy?”

He nodded, he was ready to get back on the trail towards the last bounty. The thought of hunting again reminded him of the Imp device in his pocket that still mystified him, reigniting buried suspicions. I should ask her about it, maybe she knows what it is. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you while you were showering, or when you were getting ready to sleep, so being the polite riddur he decided he would bring it up with you in the morning.

Din reached into his pocket, closing his fingers around the mechanical spider, ready to pull it into the light when the hangar doors opened.

Revealing a blizzard of white duraplast.

“Oh fuck.” Your collective hearts went through the decking at the sight before you. There, swarming the station proper were dozens of Imperial stormtroopers, their eggheads covering the hangar like dirty snow. “Get down!” you hissed at Din who was already two steps ahead of you, sliding out of the pilots seat and under the dashboard. You tore the faceplate off of your crown and stuffed it into his hands along with Grogu and caged your two boys in with your knees, determined to keep anything mando-factured out of sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Din spat, slamming his fist on the floor. “This station is supposed to be neutral territory! We need to turn around, we can not stay here!”

Under you the Crest swayed gently in the droid’s grasp before being lowered onto a maintenance skiff, the hoversled bouncing slightly from the weight of your ship. Desperately you threw levers and pushed switches, trying to get the Crest to restart, but her engines were long gone, the turbines spinning almost mockingly slow. You weren’t going anywhere.

The comms light lit up on the dashboard with a soft chime, and on reflex you went to answer it when Din grabbed your leg. “Don’t even think about it.”

You made ‘what-choice-do-we-have’ hands at him, “Dude we are fucked unless I answer them, I-I speak their language, I can get us through.”

“Yeah? So do I.” He hissed from the floor, smacking the side of his thigh where his firearm hung.

“-Ksst!- hush! I’m handling this.” You straightened your shoulders and set your jaw straight before flipping on the receiver.

The holoprojector lit up in front of you with a tiny stormtrooper. “Identify yourself.”

“TK number SPW dash seven-zero-four-two, engaged in dogfight planetside and in need of repairs.”

“Why isn’t your ship running a beacon, soldier?”

“It's pre-empire surplus, it doesn’t have one.”

“What are you doing flying around in such a relic?” The stationmaster said with a bite of suspicion.

“...Budget cuts.”

They chuckled. ”No kidding. Alright then, what’s your designation?”

Shit, uh... “Prisoner transport unit.”

“Roger. Stand-by for transportation to engineering bay and prepare for inspection.”

The trooper winked out of existence, and you started to sigh with relief when the hand on your boot yanked you down to the ground.

“Prisoner transport unit?!” He rasped once you were at visor level with him on the floor. “Could you have come up with something else?!”

Unwillingly, your lips curled back and bared your teeth at his hateful tone. “There’s a shitload of guns and a goddamn carbonite freezer down in the hold, we’re not exactly delivering cookies. We need to get you two hidden before we get to the mechanics, come on!”

Din watched you drop through the ladder hatch with his heart in his throat, the fluttering organ violently trying to break out of his ribs. The Maker must think this is hilarious. After everything I’ve done to keep this kid away from the Imps we’re just going to go knocking on their fucking door. Everything was stacked against him. He was tired from lack of sleep, he was scared for the safety of his clan, and to top it all off he was becoming more distrustful of the microchip by the second; the mounting tension he emanated filling the cockpit like carbonite fog.

Maybe it’s a tracking device?

That… might make sense. Elgon station was out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, why else would a shitload of Imps be here if not to capture him and his crew? To take his son? Through the night he had grown suspicious of the item he had found, and a nagging thought had seeded itself in his frontal lobe, one that he refused to give audience.

What if it came from her?

No, that’s stupid. That’s your riddur, she’s obviously not an Imp. He reasoned, slowly soldier-crawling his way to the hatch with his son and your armor in tow. It must have been in the coral already, or come from one of the pirates, maybe they planted it here. But if that’s the case then we’ve been handed right over into a trap. He lept down the ladder with Grogu squashed under his arm, watching you fly around the cabin looking for an acceptable hiding spot for your foundling and a full grown Mandalorian.

Time started to move in slow motion as it usually did for him when he was sizing up quarry. What did her puck say, before I decided not to turn her in? He ran through his mental rolodex, digging for your file. Ex hunter. Guild dissenter. Bribed out of high-profile bounty. Now that he had met the high-profiler for himself he really couldn’t blame you, though it was suspicious that you had returned from the bridge one bounty short after speaking with Alewyn in private.

Alewyn. Princess-turned-pirate, a renegade royal that had made a name for herself literally ripping ships down from the sky. Hunter ships in particular. Awful convenient for her to be right in our line of travel to a station full of Imps out in the middle of fuckall nowhere. He froze, his visor locked to your frantic form. As if…

As if she was waiting for us.

The corners of his lips bared his teeth to no-one behind his visor as the distrust he had sown in his own heart dug its claws in deep. This has been a trap from the beginning! She’s been playing the long con since Tatooine. In his other hand he held your betrothal gift, the beskar faceplate that he had presented to you when you swore your vows. It reflected his own visor back to him, the hazy lighting of the cabin shimmering on the mudhorn embossed on the brow. No… that’s not it… that’s not true, she loves you…

Right…?

Or… so she says. His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you.

He’d caught you so easily on that dirtball of a planet, too easily for a hunter of your stature. You’d practically tossed yourself into the arms of a complete stranger, assumed the role of the child’s caregiver without question. Agreed to marry him after barely a month.

Grogu made a sniffling noise under Din’s arm, gaining both of his buir’s attentions. His nebulous eyes were beginning to moisten, threatening to spill over with tears at any moment. Instantly you ran to your baby’s defense. “Hey buddy boy, what’s wrong?” You carefully took the baby from Din, hugging him to your chest and making the tiniest sob bubble out of his nose. “No no no it’s ok, please don’t cry sweetheart!”

“He’s scared.” Din growled in a manner not at all comforting. You glared at the indomitable mountain of metal, offended that he would use such a tone in front of his own son. “He knows when there’s a threat nearby.” Under you the Crest wobbled slightly, signaling the start of her trek to the engineering bay. Tick tock.

“Fuck! Can you get in a storage crate?” you asked frantically, bouncing Grogu on your hip to get him to quiet down. The baby could sense the mounting anxiety radiating off of his buir, and was getting himself spun up into a fresh panic. His cries devolved into sobs, making the hull echo with despair. “Shh.. it’s ok! Baby boy please, we can’t do this right now!”

“Too obvious.”

“Ok, the sleeping cubby? The lockers? C’mon Mando work with me!”

“They’ll tear this ship apart the second it hits the bay. There’s no hiding. That’s it, we’re done for.” Din tossed up his hands and made some kind of noise in the back of his throat, some kind of strained laugh, the husk of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You knew that sound, it was the sound of acceptance, of defeat.

Like fuck you were giving up. You made to retaliate when something past his shoulder caught your eyes. Expecting you to fight with him he stopped his pacing and glared at you, then followed your eyes to the carbonite freezer. He whipped back around, gawking at you like you’d grown a second head. “Oh fuck no.”

“We are out of options!” you nearly screamed, “I can’t just cuff you, there’s no guarantee that they won't take you and Beans hostage, freezing you would be safer. I-it would only be for an hour or two, tops, just to pass inspection! That thing can unfreeze, right?”

“That is not the point!” Din bellowed, “You are suggesting not only to freeze me but to freeze him as well?” Din jabbed a finger at the baby, a rush of emotions threatening to boil his bucket right off his head. He widened his shoulders, broadening himself so large that he seemed to encompass the entire ship, glossy black eye turning dark and hateful on you. He couldn’t keep his suspicions to himself any longer. “You… has this been your plan all along?”

You balked, “Plan? Plan for what? The hell are you-”

He threw your beskar on the floor and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against the wall opposite the freezer and making Grogu scream out in terror. Mando’s visor took up your entire field of view, reflecting with your own wild eyes. “Your plan to capture us!” He barked, the malice overflowing like an erupting volcano. “You told that Imp that this was a prisoner transport unit. We don’t have any prisoners on this ship unless you’ve had them since the beginning.”

“Are you out of your fucking bucket?!” You spat back at him, “You think I want to put you in carbonite?! Put my son in carbonite?! There’s nowhere else on this ship to hide you!”

“How convenient.” The joints in your shoulders popped from the force he was applying to them, his weight nearly fusing you with the wall.

“You’re hurting me!” Over you the lights began to flicker, though neither of you saw it with your eyes locked on each other; yours filled with pain and anger, his visor pinning you down as if you were quarry.

At the sound of your pain the tension on your shoulder bones eased slightly, but not enough to let you free of the wall. Scalding shame burnt its way across his face, bitter and stinging. He was hurting you, the one thing he swore never to do to you again, the very first oath he had promised.

You chewed the side of your cheek, trying to steady your words. “Din. I love you. I love Grogu! I lied to that Imp to protect you. I don’t want those rotten eggs to have you, how could you even think that of me?”

She lies. One thing that Din knew about you was that you were unquestionably good at was putting on a ruse, able to sweet-talk quarry or lure droids to their deaths. But the way you took to the comms was different, how you were able to use the Imps own terminology against them, even how you spoke to the pirates before you were ‘rescued’ was delivered with flawless diction. It was too perfect, too natural...

As if that was your real voice.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” He growled, digging armored claws into the flesh of your shoulders, making you suck air through your teeth. Defensively you coiled your arms around Grogu, burying his wrinkly little head against your chest where he would be safe from the man you thought you trusted. Fire cascaded out from under Din's helmet, trying to burn you at the stake. “You told me once that I don’t know you.” His helmet tilted like a serpent poising to strike, words dripping with venom. “But I should have known an Imp when I saw one.”

“I am not an Imp!! That’s not who I am any MORE!” Bulbs exploded around you at your words, glass and sparks raining down from above. The strength of your thundering roar broke the delicate machinery in Din’s helmet, causing his audio intake to screech with feedback. Immediately his hands left your shoulders and went to his ears, trying to protect himself from the horrible noise.

The let-up was all the invitation you needed, and you dropped yourself low; catapulting into Din’s chest plate like a linebacker and knocking him into the freezer. You kicked your faceplate between his boots, thrust Grogu into his arms and punched the activator on the wall, tears flowing hotly down your face. As the fog billowed outward Mando wrapped himself around the foundling, as though his impenetrable armor could protect the child from the nightmare of being frozen alive.

Horrified, you watched as the two creatures you loved most were consumed by the mist, leaving a dark block in its wake that bore their likeness. The metal was already ice cold to the touch when you ran your hand over the glaring curve of your husband's visor, and down to the terrified, tear-streaked face of your baby.

Choked sobs tore at the back of your throat, trying to drown you with guilt. I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry my loves, I… I did what I had to do. You weren’t given time to process your grief, nearly jumping out of your skin when plasticast fists rapped on the access door with authoritarian vigor. Composing yourself to the best of your abilities, you stuck your finger down the barrel of your blaster, scraping off the dark residue and smearing it under your eyes to hide your welted cheeks.

Glass crunched under your boots as you made your way through the dismembered cabin to the wall panel, punching the buttons with shaky hands. The ramp chuggered and stopped halfway down, but it was down far enough for you to make visor contact with the platoon of troopers who were demanding your attention. Their armor was clean, freshly moulded and recently polished. These weren’t just the Empire’s soggy leftovers, these were new recruits.

Disgracefully hopping down from the ramp among a scurry of pit droids you puffed up your chest and squared your shoulders as you had seen your partner do whenever he was intimidating quarry. You crossed your arms behind your back in parade rest, watching as a painted trooper strode up to you, his rifle pointed at the floor near your feet.

“Stand aside, we have orders to search this ship.”

“Whose orders?”

“Elgon Station is under the Imperial jurisdiction of Admiral Forescythe, no ships in or out without search.”

You felt all the blood in your body evaporate at the name. Forescythe. Shit balls of hell, that fucking bastard is still alive?!

“Is that really necessary?”

The rifle in his hand rose just slightly. “You got something to hide?”

“No, sir.” you said sweetly, hoping politeness would buy you brownie points.

“Stand aside then.” The trooper barked, gesturing to your ship with the barrel of his rifle. You jumped when the heavy access ramp hit the ground, turning to glare daggers at the droid that had unfastened the damaged hydraulics. The stormtrooper marched past you up the ramp, inspecting the interior of the cabin as he went. As predicted, he nudged the lids of the supply crates open, pointing his gun at any would-be threats. Another pair of eggheads followed inside, rudely stomping through the Crest’s belly like they owned the place.

The painted trooper made loud, gross sniffing noises. “Smells like carbonite in here, your freezer might be leaking, better get that checked out…” He trailed off when he clocked the machine and its contents, taking big strides towards it. “Lookit that, Is that an actual mando? I didn’t even think they were real, I’ve only ever heard stories.” He gestured to you with his gun, “How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked coldly.

“How’d you catch him? And his... weird dog?” The trooper tapped harshly on the solidified metal that covered your foundling's eyeball, making your blood pyroclast through your veins, but you remained composed.

“I’m more dangerous than I look.” You seethed, digging your nails into the skin of your arms behind your back. And you’re about to find out just how fucking dangerous if you don’t back off!

One of the unpainted soldiers piped up. “Do you think this is the one they’ve been looking for? The one the Admiral was talking about?”

“Could be, I’ll radio the Wyvern when it makes stationfall, should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few hours.” Cotton seemed to grow in your mouth at his words, making it impossible to swallow. No, it can't be.

-ī̶̱̩͋t's̴̈̅ ̵̛̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷ŏ̷̐̓͑ṁ̸͌̋̾̕in̵̨͎̩̠̼͂͜g̷͑̔.-

Shut up. The commander jabbed his rifle at you. “I heard someone say that mandos never take their helmets off, we should unfreeze it and see what it looks like.”

“No.” You barked, making the soldiers flinch. Haha. “He’s very dangerous, even under the effects of hibernation sickness he can still be quite lethal.”

“There’s three of us and only one of it.” A rifle was pointed your way, “Thaw it out.”

Like hell. “Alright, then I won’t have to be the one to explain to the Admiral why a Mandalorian is loose in the station, or dead. I’ve heard he’s a reasonable man.”

The three troopers looked at each other with questioning glances, suddenly unsure. That seemed enough to deter them, and you waited while the troopers barked orders at the repair droids, ordering them to get your ship fixed up. A battalion of robots swarmed the Razor Crest inside and out, almost making you thankful Mando wasn’t there to blast them full of holes. The greasy robots would make quick work of the damage, and hopefully have you out of the station before the Wyvern arrived.

The Wyvern. You wanted to curl in a ball and die. Of all the bullshit the galaxy had to offer it had decided that you deserved a double helping of unwanted nostalgia. Not only was the Wyvern’s Tongue still operational she would be bringing with her good old Admiral Forscythe, though last time you saw him he was just a captain.

Your captain.

And he was on his way.

To this station.

To your ship.

To you.

Oh fuck.

Immediately you turned to your partner for reassurance, only to meet his frozen stare. You wanted to release him, let him carry you safely away from this place, but you weren’t out of the woods yet; so you were both going to have to wait. You’d never been frozen, thank the Maker, but you’d heard stories. How being frozen is like being trapped alive, trying to breathe but not being able to move your lungs. Still being conscious but feeling your blood stop in your veins. A living death.

A waking nightmare.

Repair droids swarmed your ship’s interior like a hive of bees, but they were making quick work of the damage and would hopefully be gone soon. Shaky legs carried you back over to the carbonite freezer, and you leaned heavily on the block of frozen metal, stretching your arms around it in an attempted hug. I wish you were here, my love, but it will be over soon.

You pressed a kiss to both of your boy’s faces and slumped to the floor, leaning on the bandoliered boots behind you. Between the wide open ramp and the droids working on the stardrive you were too exposed to unfreeze your family, and the thought of having to wait even a minute longer made the edges of your eyes threaten to spill anew.

Stars above you wanted this to be over. The back of your throat tasted like bile, and the plasma residue smeared under your eyes was starting to burn. You needed to get away, to blast off into space with your boys and put your draconian past behind you before the literal beast reared her ugly head.

But… now he knows. You groaned into your knees, digging claws into your own hair. He knows! You fucking asshat now he knows! Your greatest, vilest secret had been spilled, and you were going to have to find a way to live with the consequences. He... he’ll understand. Bilgerats are practically foundlings, I just need to explain myself better. Yeah! That’s it! I didn’t have the chance to explain myself. He’ll forgive me… right?

Time seemed to crawl, languid and slow, forcing you to wallow in your own guilt. You cautiously eyed the platoons of troopers that would often march past, trying to glare daggers through their shiny white buckets, but they paid you no mind. The hours ticked by, making you more and more anxious by the second. You had no way of knowing how soon the Wyvern would arrive, could be hours, could be minutes. Could be seconds.

-į̶̱̩̄͋ͅt'̶̡̳̰̝̇s̴̈̅ ̵̧̛̺̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷̄͋͛̚oṁ̸͌̋̾́̈́̕͝i̸̇̏-

I’m aware! You snapped at your thoughts, pissed that they were still present long after Grogu had purged them from your mind. I must be going crazy, it’s the guilt. It has to be the guilt. You rubbed at your temples, trying to dispel the mounting tension in your skull. When you opened your eyes a sweeper droid was clearing away the glass shards from the floor, and you cocked your brows at it as it went by. When did the lights burn out?

Eventually the interior repairs were completed to the fullest, and the moment the ramp hydraulics were functional again you slammed the door shut and booked it back to the freezer controls.You turned a pair of knobs on the side of the carbonite block and took a step back. The metal that covered your beloved crewmates turned red, then bright gold, sloughing off in luminous waves.

You jumped to catch Din and the foundling before they hit the ground, his strength lost from the effects of hibernation sickness, nearly causing him to melt onto the floor along with the aurelius sludge pooling at your feet. In your ear you heard both of your boys taking desperate, broken breaths; and you rubbed at Din’s dorsal plate, encouraging him to fill his lungs.

As a unit you sank down to the floor where the child practically rolled into your lap. His enormous eyes were squinty and blinking, making you think that he may be temporarily blinded. “Hey booger, it’s ok, can you hear me?” Grogu made a sad little noise, but that meant he could at least still hear. “There ya go, that’s it, nice’n slow. Y’ok?” The child looked up at you with a twisted expression, then immediately yarked bright blue all over your shirt. “You know what, I deserved that, thanks.”

Din’s modulated cough grated in your ear. “How… long?”

“Couple hours, but the repairs are finished, we can get the fuck outta here now. Are you alright? You gonna barf?” He started to shake his head no, but the shaking might have been his downfall because you felt him start to heave. “Not in the bucket not in the bucket! Come on, up! Heeere we go…” You gently set Grogu down on the floor and bullied yourself up under Din’s arm, dragging him as fast as you could to the fresher. You barely got the beskar out of the way in time for your partner to empty his stomach. “That’s it, let it all out, I gotcha.”

Din hung on to the sides of the fresher like his life depended on it, shaking violently with every hurl, and there wasn’t much else you could do but hold on. He released one armored claw from the side of the fresher to reach back and find you, but when you tried to hold his hand to comfort him he pulled his fingers from your grasp. Again you tried, but this time he didn’t just let go, he pushed you away, and you heard him mumble something into the fresher bowl.

“-..a...tor-”

“What’d you say?”

“Traitor!!!” Din spat, curling back around at you with viciously bared teeth, eyes wild and bloodshot. You backpedaled away from the fuming warrior that was half crawling half leaping towards you, making weak throws that were slowly gaining in strength. “You fucking traitor! I should have known! I should have known from the very fucking start!” You’d never seen him angry without the helmet, and it terrified you. He terrified you.

You put up your hands defensively, backing away from him. “Please! Let me explain! It wasn’t-”

“I don’t listen to Imps!” He swung at you and missed, but his agility was quickly returning. You wouldn’t be so lucky the second time.

“Damn it Din, fucking listen-” Ignoring you, he groped for the gun on his belt, and you were barely able to grab your armor in time from the freezer to block his reckless shots. You crouched over Grogu, using your body and the face plate as a shield against the assaulting Mandalorian. “Din! Stop! Please! You’re going to hurt our son!”

“Our?!” He hissed, snarling around the word. “That is MY son! Get away from him!” Din grabbed the beskar mask and tried to pull it from you, yanking you up from the floor. “MY son does not belong to you, this does not belong to you! Who do you think you are?!”

“Who am I?! I’m your wife!”

He stopped trying to wrestle the lovingly-chosen armor away from you, meeting your eyes with his own darkened gaze. His earthly irises flickered fast between both of your own pupils, searching your face for something, some kind of reminder. A reminder that he loves you. The muscles on the side of his jaw clenched and rippled, chewing on the words he was looking for.

When he spoke his voice was hoarse, but certain, as if there would never be a greater truth than the one he breathed into being.

“No, you’re not.”

The coldness in his tone stabbed icicles in your veins and froze your mouth closed, rendering you speechless. His hateful gaze looked down to the mask still in your hands, twisting into a pained expression. “Did… did this mean anything to you?”

“Din… please…” you begged, you voice barely above a whisper, “It means everything to me, you mean everything to me!” Behind you Grogu was already starting to cry again, making the situation even worse. “I love you! I did what I did to protect you, to protect Grogu! I didn’t want those Imp bastards to take you. Can’t you see that?”

The Mandalorian laughed, miasmatic and sickly, infected with distrust. “Isn’t that just like an Imp, lying right up til the very end.” He let go of the beskar as if it was unclean, then turned swiftly around on his heel, striding to the fresher to grab his helmet from where it had been discarded on the floor. He picked it up and looked into it’s visor, almost like he was debating whether or not he could put it back on. It sank over his head with a hiss of it’s latches, amplifying his dominating presence tenfold.

You pressed on, balling your fists in determination. “It shouldn’t matter who I used to be, just who I am now. I don’t know anything about your past, all I know is who you are now, I know that you are my… ner rid-oor…”

He was on you in a flash. “Don’t make me cut out your lying tongue as well, Mando’a is sacred, I should have never taught it to you.” In one swift motion he grabbed the offensive beskar from your useless fingers and threw it somewhere behind him, the iron clanging ugly against the durasteel decking. He dug behind his chestplate and found the lucky talismans you had given him as a sign of your affection, a sign that he now decided should have been a big red flag, shoving them into your empty hands.

“You have dishonored me.”

The Mandalorian bent to pick the crying youngling up off the floor, carrying him over to the bed you had all shared. He didn’t turn around to face you when he spoke again. “Get out.”

His frigid words had you frozen in place, frozen in time. He’s leaving you. Your mind was racing, your heart flooding with sadness and grief. Words abandoned you, giving you only a whisper of your silver tongue.

“Din.. I-I didn’t have a choi-”

“GET OUT!!!” He ripped your backpack off the wall and flung it at you, making you reel from the impact. The ramp opened behind you, and you were suddenly being shoved out the door, rolling backwards out of the Crest. You scrambled to your feet, clutching the krayt teeth so hard that the edges cut your palms while you banged on the rising wall of steel.

From behind the closing door you heard a sound, faint but desperate, nearly inaudible over your own pounding heartbeat. It sounded distinctly like a baby’s cry.

“Bubu!”

-SLAM!-

The access ramp sealed shut, and a shiny silver dome appeared in the rounded transparisteel viewport where Mando was taking his seat at the controls. Imps began swarming you while the old gunship’s engines flared to life, burning like a newly risen phoenix. Poorly-aimed blaster fire ricocheted off the ship’s hull while her landing gear tucked itself up, and soon the home you had grown to know and love was blasting towards the hangar exit without you.

The Razor Crest slid through the magcon field, the backs of her engines turning bright blue as her stardrive kicked into gear, rocketing her into warp speed just as an enormous star cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, dwarfing the station with her size. As prideful and arrogant as the Empire she sailed for, she took up the starfield with the domineering presence of a ship that had once served as the Death Star’s loyal guard dog.

It could be no other than the Wyvern’s Tongue.

-ȉ̴͗t̴'̴s̶̛̓͝͠ he̷̍̂r̶̔ë̷́.-

If you had a single coherent thought left to your name you would have made a series of snide remarks to the completely useless voice that whispered in your ears. You would have fought back against the stormtroopers that were roughly grabbing you and forcing you down under the barrels of their guns. You would have ran through the station and commandeered one of the other ships that had come in for repairs and blasted off to somewhere, anywhere else.

If you weren’t so grief-stricken, so heart-broken, so lost, you would have hurled literal dragonfire at the man who was approaching you now.

The troop commander spoke first. “Sir, this one allowed the mando to esca-”

“Get her up. Now.” You were hauled back up to your feet, but your eyes stayed on the forcefield that was draped over the stars, just waiting for the Razor to come back around.

To come back for you.

Your view became blocked by a tall, thin man in an Imperial uniform, his lapel shining with an even bigger emblem of authority than the last time you had seen it. His soulless eyes bored right into yours, and you knew instantly by the look on his face that he hadn’t forgotten his favorite communications officer. “Sparrow? Is that you?”

The long abandoned nickname stung like needles in your ears, reeling you violently into the present. The admiral cupped your chin and brought your eyes up, forcing you to see him and stop pretending that he wasn’t real; that he was an apparition brought to life by your wailing night terrors. “It is. My little Sparrow has flown back to me.”

The stormtrooper braved an interruption, “Sir, the mando-”

Admiral Forescythe silenced him with a wave of his hand, “No matter, the universe has brought me something even better than whatever Moff Gideon had been after.” The glare on the Admirals face turned to a sickly smile “Pray tell, little bird, won’t you sing me a song? I’ve so missed your lovely voice.”

You shook your head from his hand and pointed to the electromagnetic cuffs that still hung from the backs of your ears, the last remainder of the beloved faceplate you had been gifted. “Hull breach, tone deaf.” was all the excuse you could muster. A stiff leather glove rose up to brush over the Mandalorian steel, and you fought every animalistic urge to go batshit ballistic, rip the admiral limb from limb.

“What a pity, but at least you can still speak.” He was standing too close now, and the disgust you felt for the man who practically raised you made your flesh boil under his gaze. His gloved hand slid down from your ear and grabbed at the bottom of your jaw, forcing your head to tilt while he inspected the bitemarks Din had put on your neck when he still loved you. “At least you haven’t been lonely, good thing I had you chipped when I did. Shame on you for letting someone defile you in such a manner, were you still on my ship I would have had them jettisoned.”

The Admiral raked his eyes over your disheveled form, from your marked flesh to your blackened eyes and your blue-stained shirt, his face twisting in disgust. “Whatever life you have been living clearly doesn’t suit you, it’s high time you cease this reckless behavior and come back to where you belong.” He bent down and picked your backpack up off the floor where it had fallen, slinging one ratty strap over his neatly-pressed shoulder; then extended a hand to you. “Are you ready to come home now, my little Sparrow?”

You blinked a few times at the question, your heart becoming as cold as stone. Home? The Wyvern was not your home anymore, and the admiral was not your family. But the home you knew, the family you loved was now lightyears away, far far away from where you were now; and they weren’t coming back.

Din wasn’t coming back.

That left only one place left for you to go.

Back... home.

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icylook · 4 years ago

Text

I Hold You

Pairing: Leon x Leri (MC)

Rating: Explicit; Word count: 1625; Read on AO3

Tags: Spoilers for the AMR demo; Not canon compliant - Leon and Leri (MC) started their relationship half a year before the final battle; Established Relationship; Angst and Fluff; Smut

A Mage Reborn demo 👑 ✨ @mage-parivir

Fic title inspo from the song - I Hold You by Clann 🎶 🤍

“Tickles.”

Wicked smile curls his lips, not that Leon can see it with his head thrown up, exposing his throat to the gentle assault of his mouth. Next kiss is even lighter and Leon squirms again but doesn’t tell him to stop. So he licks briefly over the pulse point, tasting the salt of his skin, breathing in the scent of soap and… tang of blood. Someone wasn’t as dutiful in his quick bath as he should be.

But he knows why. Leon is tired.

Every day a little more, his shoulders carrying the weight of the rebellion.

Tired of the responsibility, and he’s ashamed of it, Leri being the only witness of a miserable confession, one dark, dark night ago. Murmured into his chest, breath wet with hot, unwanted tears. Guilt eating him alive because of the lives he’s lost, because he didn’t know what he should do with the faith of so many people in his hands. Terrified to the bone with the thought of disappointing those who believe in him and leading them to their cruel, unfair demise.

Leri sees the exhaustion with the line of his spine tauter with every speech he makes to rally his troops. He notices it in brief grimaces of pain, long hours in heavy armor with the weapon in his hand, constantly stained with crimson.

But after every nightmare of the day before, at every dawn, he gets up from his bedroll and faces what fate seems to throw at him. And Leri keeps being his shadow because of his resilience.

Because Leon is his Sun.

And he’s the Moon.

Leon’s hand tangles in his braid when Leri nips lightly at the crook of his neck. Lets out a shuddering breath when his hand wanders down his waist, his fingers close over the fabric of his trousers, teasing the shape of his length. He’s quiet when he slowly makes him fill in his palm, a gasp here and there when he sneaks his hand in to take hold of him properly. Touching him as he likes, kissing his way up his throat and along his jaw. Feeling hotter in his own night clothes with every little noise and expression of pleasure the man in his arms makes.

So subdued and quiet, so different than when out on the battlefield - commanding and unyielding in his strength.

Here, he’s Leri’s.

Nights are the only time when they can be close to each other. Resting side by side in precious moments of calm. Rare are the days when they go to sleep at the exact same moment and wake up together and Leri cherishes them dearly. Collecting the memories before what little happiness they share is snached by the time.

In their shared bedroll Leon isn’t the king and a mighty warrior he serves, but a man he loves. And he isn’t a royal retainer and mage with eerie magic that most keep their distance from, but a man in love.

Both of them take huge risks on the battlefield, and Ilya does what she’s able to with her healing, but some of Leon’s scars run deeper than his skin, even if he tries not to show it.

There's no doubt the war takes its toll on everyone, mentally and physically.

Every night Leri molds himself over Leon’s body as if it is their last. Leon’s embrace is as tight in return.

Nyx is merciful, but he can feel the growing hunger under his skin with every close dance with death, the cold fire in his veins harder to conceal. He doesn’t want to think what will happen when he pushes the line one time too many. Because he knows he can’t keep toeing it without consequences.

They call him reckless, but what he’s doing is calculated. He makes light of the exhaustion of his body after every collapse when the spells take too much. Doesn't want them worrying about him when so much is at stake.

He'll be fine, he’s fine.

Teasing his companions when they scold him for being inappropriate on purpose, just to see the shadow of a smile on their face. Once, Saine told him that the sound of his laughter on the battlefield upon a spell going well is more terrifying than the spirits he summons. An impish thing to be amused but proud of, but Leri isn’t picky - he has a reputation to uphold.

The hold on Leri’s hair tightens when his wrist twists the way he knows Leon likes. Suddenly, the world tilts when his back meets the bedroll. Leon braced above him now.

“Leri...”

His breath hitches. Leon whispers his name like one of the gods in an hour of need. He almost drowns in the depth of an emerald that’s gazing at him like no one has ever before.

Any witty words stay stuck to his tongue with the shift in the mood. Leon’s eyes darken when he cups his face, leaning down, hot breath upon his lips.

Hovering, waiting for him to meet him halfway. And he does, because he’s selfish and wants everything his Sun gives him.

He’s good, Leri thinks, as Leon’s light kiss deepens and he parts his lips to let him in. The clumsiness of that first stolen kisses long gone, making him shiver with need. He hasn’t thought of Leon being a fast learner, eager and determined. Being focused on him now, as he is in battle. It’s both satisfying and frightening, but the thrill of it is something he seeks, over and over again.

Leri lets out an involuntary hiss when Leon hoists his left thigh, jostling his bad knee.

“Sorry,” Leon brushes his mouth over his, then over his cheeks and eyelids. Peppering his face with soft kisses and softer “sorry”, nestling himself between his legs and he opens them for his lover. Welcoming the weight of his warm body, pushing up when Leon pushes down. Drinking up his breathy moan with his lips, the tenderness of it making his heart clench.

Slightly distracted by the way Leon licks into his mouth his hands stop at his sides, fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back. He pulls at the fabric of his shirt, impatient to get rid of it. But Leon doesn’t relent as Leri expects him to, too thirsty for a taste of his kisses. Making his head spin with the sensations of hunger mixing with affection he still tries to get used to.

Leon grunts when Leri bites at his lower lip and pulls back, tongue soothing the sting. The blush of his cheeks goes down his neck, gold hair messy, reddened lips plump and wet. Shirt hanging on one arm, the smooth skin of his collarbones and chest almost glowing. Green eyes full of want. Looking utterly debauched.

I did this, Leri thinks.

Somehow, they are able to push their trousers down enough to get a hold of their cocks. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the friction on the verge of uncomfortable. But they don’t stop and Leon is silent, unrelenting in the sensual flow of his body. It’s Leri who has trouble with keeping the noises in, biting at his fist.

The walls of the tent are thin and he could throw a silencing spell on them, but using his magic as it’s recovering will only botch the process. Leon catches his hand, holds down his wrist, then intertwines his fingers with Leri’s. Hot breath mingles with his, a gasp fans his skin when Leon shifts on his elbow, face twisted in quiet pleasure.

“Leri,” he speeds up the roll of his hips and the heel of Leri’s leg digs into the small of his back. Leon slows down to a drag, grinding and worrying at Leri’s neck, sucking at the skin and making Leri arch his back with a sobbing moan, barely stifled in the crook of his neck.

“Stop teasing me, blondie, come on,” Leri’s low whisper makes Leon tighten his hold on him, light huffs of air leaving his throat when he sneaks his hand to grasp their cocks together. Leri’s hand closes over his and they keep at it in near perfect rhythm with their hips moving. Leri is first to feel the tug of pleasure low in his belly, spreading up his spine and the force of his thrusts increases with the urge of the chase, using Leon’s body to get to it.

He curls into Leon with one long exhale when he nears his completion, hips jerking a few more times before he stills. Leri blinks as Leon’s shaky hand cups his face, kissing him sloppily, teeth latching at his bottom lip as Leon’s writhes above him. He rearranges both of Leri’s legs to wrap around his waist and rolls his hips again, still hard. Leri twists his hand up and down, rubbing the hot skin of his length and soon Leon’s back goes taut when it’s his turn to come, spilling over Leril’s fingers and his stomach, catching on his nightshirt. Silent in his climax, cherry lips opened in choked gasp hidden in Leri’s hair.

Both of them breathe hard and fast, Leon’s chest shining with sweat, strands of gold hair plastered to his temple, but green eyes are full of content. Leri reaches for him and Leon easily goes down, lips capturing Leri’s in slow and lazy kiss, full of satisfaction and affection.

One more night.

He had him for one more night.

Leri wants to hold him again and again, wishing the moment to never end.

He didn't know that he was cold until he started basking in the warmth of his Sun. Because now, being without it, the cold seems unbearable.

#amr #a mage reborn #icy is writing #warning for Leon being ooc #well #given more time their relationship would bloom?#I think xD #anyway the demo had me thinking and here it is #Valerian Virtanen #oc leri

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pineconesarecrunchy · 4 years ago

Text

Pillow

Edelgard x F!Bylteh

(Byleth tries to help Edelgard sleep better at night, but things take a turn.)

Note: This is post time skip, minor spoilers for that!

...

Another day goes by means another busy day full of planning. Ever since your return, Edelgard has been excited to catch you up with everything, but being an empress has its own demanding duties. Edelgard has matured so much since your first encounter. Seeing her directing and giving orders makes you feel her power just by standing near her and being in her presence alone. Her stern and serious attitude remains as she keeps up a strong front defending her ideologies and carrying out missions in order to fulfill her end term goal. Her determination is astonishing and the front that she puts up has not changed at all over the five years. Two things haven't changed within those years, her soft spot for you and her persistent nightmares...

Edelgard's nightmares have gotten progressively worse since the last time you had discussed the sensitive topic with her before the five years of your absence. You notice recently that with each passing day that it has begun to take a toll on her. You wonder if proposing to stay by her side as she sleeps will help ease her fears.

It's a dark now, almost around midnight, and there are not many people roaming the monastery at this time except for you. You walk up to Edelgard's room door and give it a soft knock.

"El..." Only silence replies. She usually is awake at this hour, what could she possibly be doing? You slightly push the door open to see the room is...empty? You begin to give yourself to a self guided tour of her room. Her bed is neatly made but sitting atop of the duvet is an armored bear stuffed teddy you gave her when you first began your days at the monastery. She kept it. That thought brings a smile to your face as you walk over to her windowsill aligned with badges and medals. To the right of it is her desk, sitting on it are a stack or various papers. The one on top is a drawing of someone who looks...awfully familiar. It's not something Ignatz could conjure that is for sure, but is certainly a portrait of you. You open the desk drawer to see an uncovered box of hair pins and ribbons that she used to wear back in the day. You take one of the ribbons and bring it to your nose. It smells just like her and feels as if she's in the room.

"Professor?" You drop the ribbon and slam the drawer close almost immediately.

"E-Edelgard! You...startled me." You mumble as you examine the figure standing in the door frame. Edelgard looks disheveled and sweaty. Her white hair is up in a messy bun, but some strands have fallen and cling tightly to her face. Her nightgown clings to her damp chest and you realize how sheer her gown is and look away abruptly. "Sorry for intruding."

"Snooping are we. I never took you for a peeping-Tom, Professor."

"Byleth."

"...Byleth." She takes a step inside. "Is there something you need from me? It's awfully late."

"I just wanted to see how you were."

"Why?" She asks carefully, sounding like she already knows what you are eluding to.

"The past few days you have seemed more distracted and disorientated than usual, and I think your nightmares are the culprit. Your current state right now—"

"I am... I am not in the best appearance right now to be disagreeing with you." She says nervously. "I guess there is no use in hiding it from you. It's like you can almost read my mind." She chuckles.

"Perhaps I can."

"Then what am I thinking right now?" She seems like she genuinely wants you to guess. Her expression is curious, her thin eyebrows raised with a small smirk.

"Edelgard, you are avoiding the topic at hand. Please tell me what is troubling your dreams."

"Okay." She sighs and walks over to her bed and sits on it. she pats the empty space next to her beckoning you to join her. You walk over to her side and once you sit down she rests her hear on your shoulder. She entangles her arm with yours and grasps your hand. Your shoulder begins to feel hot form her extremely warm body. Edelgard's sweat seeps into your shoulder making your arm feel slightly damp, but you do not mind. You are fulfilling your promise you made to her all those years ago.

To be there by her side.

"My nightmares have been getting progressively worse."

"What do you think is the cause of them? Is it the next upcoming battle?"

"Yes. I...My dreams are vivid. The next battle I, I am a bit worried."

"You will be victorious; I am sure."

"That is not of my concern."

"Is it the enemy?"

"That is what I am worried about."

"Do you know who is the main target?"

"I have to fight family."

"Oh..."

"Yes."

"Dimitri?"

"Yes."

"You dream fearing fighting him?"

"I dream of being the cause to his demise. I dream of him being the cause of my demise." She squeezes your hand even harder. "I even have moments where I envision both of us living our final seconds looking into the eyes of someone we had loved and grown up with. I wish I did not have to fight him."

"You will cross that bridge when we get there."

"But, that bridge is soon."

"That battle isn't soon, it's not until about three moons or so away!"

"That is very soon for me. I — I cannot, I know it is business matters and it is inevitable, but I am so scared, Byleth. Being the reason of suffering to the one you care deeply for... It is unfair! It is so unfair!" She turns away to choke in her sobs. "Why did we have to be on opposite sides. If he had come to his senses, I wouldn't have to fight him, why is this so dastardly unfair!" She throws herself into your chest and cries, grasping onto your arms.

Edelgard's breathing is staggered and heavy. She shudders and trembles with every inhale and exhale. You can only imagine this is how she has been for every battle she has fought in the five years without your presence. You rub her back with one hand and pat the back of her head with the other. With every second passing, the clothes around your chest gets wetter with her tears. Suddenly she pushes you away and stands up.

"I should not be doing this." She says sniffling and rubbing the tear crust from her eyes and cheeks. "This, is unprofessional."

"No it is not."

"I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, Emperor, should not be crying over something so trivial as to fighting an enemy—" She sounds like she is getting upset with herself for being vulnerable. She shouldn't be.

"I would be upset too if I was in your place about to fight my brother."

"I am not upset!"

"You are being open about your worries to me, there is nothing trivial about that."

"This is so embarrassing." She groans.

"Being worried is nothing to be embarrassed or humiliated about, it is human nature."

"It is not what an emperor should do. I have to set an example and be fearless and—Why did you even come here?"

"Edelgard, I love you."

"What?"

"I love you and care about you."

"So you come here to listen to my anxieties and then confess your love to me when I am the most vulnerable—"

"I love and care for all of the people here. I simply noticed you were acting different and came to see if I could help in anyway and even stay by your side as you sleep for comfort. But, my intentions are clearly being mistaken and so I will see myself out." You head for the door. "Goodnight, Lady Hresvelg."

"Wait!" You stop midway in the door frame.

"What?" "I will take up your proposition."

"Excuse me?"

"To sleep by my side... It sounds...nice.... Hold on, come here." You turn around to see her pull out a stool from underneath her dresser. "Let me change out of this gown first." You go and sit on the stool. Edelgard goes over to her wardrobe and starts rummaging through.

"Should I turn around?" you inquire.

"Why? We have seen each other in the bathhouse before."

"Have we?" You cannot recall ever seeing Edelgard in the bathhouse before. You tend to go late at night of early in the mornings where there are no occupants. Has Edelgard seen you before, but not approached you? Edelgard...who would've thought you were one to act like that... "What were you doing this late at night?"

"I had woken up after imagining Dimitri's blood staining my gloves and axe handle; so I went for a walk."

"A fast walk I presume? You were sweating quite a lot."

"It was more of a ...run."

"Where to?"

"Just around the monastery, the bridge outside the cathedral looks stunning this time. What were you doing?"

"Looking for you."

"...Oh...What about before then?"

"I was scurrying around doing minor quests for people. Gardening, collecting items for people, returning lost items; the usual stuff."

"How helpful." You hear a final snap of her gown. "You may turn around now." The new night gown she wears is cream colored and reflects her pale skin. It is just as sheer... no even more sheer and see through than her first gown. Her messy bun is redone and her gaze rests upon her bed. She walks over to it and plops down. Propping her left arm up to rest her head upon and look at you.

"Are you going to watch me as you sleep?" You inquire.

"No." She mumbles and turns to lay on her back, starring at her ceiling.

You sit in silence for a bit. "Would you like me to blow out the candles?" You inquire.

"Yes, please." You walk around the room blowing out the candles around the room before returning back to the stool. The moonlight is now the only source of light in the room and it shines brightly through the large windows. A few more minutes past.

Then a few more.

Edelgard's face leaves a blank soft emotionless expression. Her skin looks so soft, if you were to touch it, it would probably be so smooth and smell of fresh carnations, her favorite flower. Edelgard groans.

"Is there something the matter?" You ask.

"Could you..." She pauses. The silence is deafening. "Could you get in with me?"

"Sleep with you?"

"...Yes. If it's not too much trouble." Why would it be too much trouble? That is the main reason you came here.

"But, I'm still in my outing clothes."

"It does not matter, you can borrow one of my night gowns if you so please." You hesitate. Accepting would be completely out of line for the Emperor and you as her aid. If anything it would feel awkward because a few hours ago she was yelling at you for misunderstanding your intentions. You really should not accept.

"Sure." To your reply, Edelgard quickly gets out of bed and rummages through her wardrobe again.

"This would look nice on you." She says holding up a royal blue nightgown. Royal blue is a pricey color of clothing. "Don't think about the color's wealth. Just try it on."

"It's like you're reading my mind, Lady Edelgard."

"Oh how the tables have turned and please, it's El."

"Thank you, El." you say and she smiles. You take the gown out of her hands. The two of you stand awkwardly there.

"I should... I will be waiting in bed."

"Okay."

"You can change here." She gestures to the unfolded room divider next to her wardrobe. You did not even notice its presence the first time. Maybe that's where she had changed when you were looking away.

You stand behind it and change while hearing her rustle the sheets and return to bed. You feel as if her eyes are scanning you through the paper frames in the divider, but how could you tell except for only the feeling of it. She could be watching but she could not...just like at the bathhouse. When you finish Edelgard is laying in bed facing away from you, you clear your throat to let her know you're done. She turns around.

"Byleth, it looks stunning on you."

"Thank you. Um, where should I put my clothes?"

"In the drawer next to the wardrobe, second drawer." You open the second drawer and place your neatly folded outing clothes in the empty space next to Edelgard's. The clothes there are of a deep crimson, each are neatly folded. You see a divider between the clothes and a small rectangular box. Glancing over your shoulder to see Edelgard isn't looking, you peek in the box. Then immediately close it once you see a glimpse of the assortment of lace—

"Is there an empty space there?" she asks groggily.

"Yes! Yes, I, I am coming." You say closing the drawer and joining Edelgard in bed.

You lay on your backside looking at the ceiling while her back is towards you. You were right, she does smell of carnations. She turns to face you and you cannot help but glance at her for a moment before looking away again. You feel her slender arm wrap around your waist and another one of her arms wrap around yours; pulling you closer to her. She places her head on your chest like it's a pillow. You can feel her breathe more slower than before now that she's calm. This feels nice.

What are you thinking? How this moment makes you feel is irrelevant. You are here to support Edelgard and help ease her nightmares. Only that and —She begins to softly snore.

How adorable...

...

The next few days Edelgard has been asking you to join her in her slumber to help ease her nightmares. This time you bring your own nightgown, but she insists you should wear one of hers as a thanks. You never give in though. She let you save the blue nightgown from your first night with her, but you never wear it. You keep it hung up in the front of your wardrobe as it smells of her carnation scent. Edelgard seems that she has returned to her diligent self. Working hard and focussed on the tasks at hand. You have not spoken about if her nightmares have changed. Sometimes she would start to sweat in the middle of the night and her breathing would increase rapidly. You would just hold her and tell her everything is alright and you're here for her until Edelgard ceases and calms down. She never uses the pillows in her room anymore, just your chest is a good enough pillow for her.

You can't help but wonder if the frequency of her nightmares are the same or if she's using that as an excuse to spend time with you...

Each passing day spent with Edelgard is a day closer to the reality of her nightmares...

...

SO I — Accidentally deleted the first half so it may not be as descriptive and well done as the rest because I was re writing it and not writing on the spur of the moment. But AAA my first Edelgard/Byleth fic! May/may not make this into a series lol who knows.

#fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem 3 houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem three houses #fe3h edelgard #edelgard x reader #edelgard von hresvelg #edelgard fire emblem #edelgard three houses #edelgard x female byleth #edelgard x byleth #byleth x edelgard #f!byleth x edelgard #edelgard x f!byleth #my writing

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kingsuckjin · 5 years ago

Text

Drive

>Pairing: virgin/sub/office co-worker Namjoon x reader

>Genre: coworker au, smut

>Warnings: uhhhh Joon is a bit subby, he’s a virgin, public sex/ car sex, fingering (f receiving) reader is a dom, kinda soft, corruption kink

>Rating: 18+ (for smut)

>Synopsis: You get fired and expect it to be a lot worse of a day then it actually is. your friend the IT guy at the office comes to your rescue.

> Words: 3.5k

Authors note: hello, drunk Moon here! I wrote this because it was requested by @bresilienne-ami I’m so sorry it took forever to do, lovely. Don’t give any credit to sober Moon because she doesn’t deserve it. Also I didn't make a banner for this I’m sorry

“I’m sorry but your subpar work just isn’t cutting it, we’re letting you go. Please gather your things and vacate the premises.”

That’s what he said. Your boss sat there in his fancy chair, not giving a fuck, seeming proud of himself for his words. He didn’t care that you worked your ass off for the past few years at this job praying all your work paid off in the form of a raise or a promotion just for him to call you a different name the handful of times he ever acknowledged your existence. He didn’t care that you didn’t know how to find a new job on such a short term, he didn’t even give you two weeks’ notice. He probably didn’t even care that because of this you might have to move back in with your parents for a while. You felt like you had failed, but you were more than heartbroken as you stormed through the maze of cubicles towards your own where your desk was, clutching the box that your boss had handed you with somewhat of a smile, you were pissed. The silent stares you knew that you were getting only angered you more, you felt like a circus clown like they wanted a good show. You felt like screaming at them “what are you looking at?!” but then again maybe they pitied you. You probably had mascara running down your tear-soaked cheeks, they probably knew what had happened from the way you were acting.

It didn’t matter, you just wanted out of there, and the looks and silence from them only made you rethink even taking the time to get your things at all.

You held the box against the side of your desk as you carelessly raked your things into it with teary, blurred vision.you had worked so hard just to toss years worth of being here into a box.

You felt so alone, no one had said a word to you, your mind raced with pain and anger as you took your filled box and began to quickly race towards the elevator. You saw that elevator as the light at the end of this nightmare tunnel, it would shield you from the staring, from the gawking, from the pity. You did your best to hold back the wall of sobs that were threatening to break forth and bring you to your knees as you thought about how someone could be so cold and just fire you as if you weren’t even a person.

In it the midst of your thought and rushing, you could feel your foot catch on something, next thing you were sent falling forward. The bottom of the box fell through and you and your things went crashing to the floor.

You wanted to just lay there, to just give up and hope you melted and soaked into the floor so you could just get away as fast as you could from this embarrassing situation.

“Here” someone muttered. You had been engrossed in your self-pity and stares from the others you hadn’t even realized the one and the only person you ever counted on was here to rescue you.

You pushed yourself off the floor as he concentrated on taking the box on the floor gathering your things and putting them back inside, carefully holding the now broken bottom so they all didn’t fall through. You looked at the man as he pushed his round glasses up onto his face and stood. He took the box under one of his arms and outreached the other arm to you to help you up, which you graciously took.

“Let me walk you to your car, okay?” he announced more so than asked, he was already heading towards the elevator with your things leaving you to run along behind him to catch up.

You had spent so many lunches with this man, he was the only real not standoffish one here, the only one that was easy to talk to and get along with. Maybe because it was because he was young like you, or maybe because he was an outcast at this place like you. Kim Namjoon worked in IT, he was shy, stuttered when nervous combined with his little habit of pushing his glasses upon his face. He was a bit of a nerd, or that’s what people said around the office, but you had always seen him as nothing more than a friend.

As you were accompanied out the doors of the building and into the parking lot, you were still holding back the tears that were threatening to spill. The walk to your car was silent, but he seemed to stall with the box in his hand as you stopped next to your car.

“I’m- I’m so sorry.” Namjoon's eyebrows furrowed and his voice took on a tone that dripped with guilt and pity for you.

“It’s alright,” you said weakly as you took the box from him, careful to hold the button as he had. “I’m uh-” your voice broke and shook just a bit making you clear your throat and avoid eye contact with the man whom you had spent a lot of lunches with, the man who had just witnessed your near meltdown over being fired.

“For what it’s worth, he’s probably going to fire me too, he never liked either of us. Jokes on him though, I have another job lined up already, better paying too. Hey! I could put in a good word for you! I bet they’d have a spot open, it’s run by an old friend, and I bet I could-”

“Ah Joonie, you don’t have to do that.” you wondered how bad he had felt for you to offer this.

“I know, but what would lunch be without my lunch friend? If I’m switching jobs you might as well come with me, you know? I can give my friend a call tonight. You’re a good and dedicated worker and I’m sure he won’t say no.”

“Really?” you felt your tears and emotions subside for a moment and make way for a little excitement and relief.

“Of course.” he gave a little chuckle as he looked down at the pavement of the parking lot “You did tolerate being friends with the office nerd for the past few years, it’s the least I could do.”

“I never once thought you were a nerd Joonie, they were all just dicks.” you smiled at his smile from your honesty.

“Hey, uh, listen…” he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose once again and ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re not doing anything tonight maybe… would- would you want to- go out for dinner? You know? As a celebration dinner for not- not having to put up with that dictator anymore.” he thumbed towards the building behind him “Y-you don’t have to, it’s-”

The more he went on the more he seemed to stutter and that let you know he was nervous.

“Yeah actually, let’s do that. You still have my number, right?”

He gave you a dimpled smile as he nodded.

“Is eight okay? You want to pick me up?” you asked as you shoved the box haphazardly into your back seat.

“Y-yeah, okay. I’ll text you,” he assured you.

You opened the driver’s side door but paused a moment before taking the few steps back over to him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for making all of this a lot better Joon.”

You didn’t need to turn back around and see his face to know he wore such a cute flustered look, you had seen it before when casually flirting with him, you had always adored it, as a matter of fact, you more than adored it. He was always so shy and quiet and to be honest that was your thing, you often found yourself daydreaming about what he’d be like in bed. Would he let you take control over him? Would he switch into someone more aggressive? Tonight you were determined to find out, you had a bad enough day and decided that the dick of the gentlemanly coworker you had been thirsting after for years might make it all so much better.

He picked you up right at eight, still in his crisp white work shirt and black slacks, freshly off work. His car had the same smell like him. He made small talk the entire drive but you found yourself staring at your knight in shining armor. You liked how the lights from the street poured into the dark car occasionally and lit his smooth skin and glittered off those glasses that seemed too big for his face. You itched to touch him, you felt like you were wasting time already, you decided to test the waters, so when he was mid-sentence you placed a hand just above his knee. He paused a moment and you knew if he was about to reject you or if he asked you to move your hand, you would and simply just have a normal friend dinner with him then you would gladly do that instead, you did like spending time with him after all and you knew he wasn’t the kind of person to hold something like a little crush against you forever.

He didn’t stop you though, he didn’t move your hand, he just ignored it and continued about how he knew the guy who would hopefully soon be your new boss and how cool he was.

You honestly didn’t know where to go from there, dinner was casual, it was sweet, he took you to a nice steak house and paid, saying that you were “currently jobless” in a joking way. You had had so many lunches with him in the break room, you had eaten together before, but this time it felt so different. He seemed to stare more, stutter more, push up his glasses more and that was a sure sign of nervousness. You tried to join in on the conversation and not seem too boring in hopes he would want to do this again with you one day, but you honestly couldn’t get the thought of completely dominating him out of your head.

You didn’t make another move though, you were too worried he was just too shy or afraid to tell you not to. On your way home, just as you were figuring you were probably better off as friends any way he asked a strange question.

“Can we pull over and talk? I-I’d like to talk a little if that’s- that’s alright?”

“Of course, I’m in no rush to get home.” you replied knowing that this was it, he was about to give you the “we’re only friends” talk.

He said nothing else until he parked in a back empty parking lot of a store that had closed down months ago. Then he turned the car off, and simply just sat there a moment.

You wondered if you should ask what he wanted to talk about or start apologizing for your inappropriate behavior on the way to dinner when he finally turned to you, not making eye contact.

“I-I-I…” he stopped a moment and sighed, seeming a little aggravated at his stuttering “I wish I didn’t do that.” he then muttered. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.” you urged listening closely.

“I’m bad at this whole thing.” he gave a short sad laugh, more like a short breath than anything “I’m a virgin… is why.” he stared out the windshield as he spoke, seeming regretful once he did it.

“Hm,” you said and gave a little shrug and that’s when he looked at you again, inspecting your nonchalant reaction.

“You probably guessed that, right?” he let his forehead fall on the steering wheel and closed his eyes “why am I so dumb and obvious?” he seemed to ask himself.

“I guessed that you liked it rough in bed, like a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed, you know?”

He lifted his head and looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“First of all, did you just quote an Usher song after I told you I was a virgin? Secondly, I am not whatever you thought I was.” his laugh was more of an amused one this time.

“I did. I did quote Usher. What do you say we find out though how you are in bed, right here, right now? I mean I’m not a virgin, but I’m a car sex virgin so it would be like we’re taking each other’s virginities.” you joked.

His eyes nearly went as wide as his mouth had fallen.

“N-n-now? Here? In my car?”

“Sure” you shrugged “Unless you’re opposed to it.” you shrugged once again.

His reply was a rapid shake of his head.

“Good,” you replied as you made your way over the center console that separated the both of you until your knees sat on both sides of his lap, straddling it.

You now face to face and he looked you in the eye but seemed so speechless. You didn’t need to hear him stutter to know that he was nervous, his quick breaths were the only noise in the quiet car.

You connected your lips to his and the result was a slow but passionate kiss, no tongue, nothing too fancy.

When you pulled your head back away from him you decided to ask to make sure this was what he wanted.

“Are you sure you want this?” You didn’t have to wait long for your whispered question to be answered.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this. Turns out you- you weren’t the- the only one who has imagined what the other would be like in bed.” you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed down his nervous stuttering “do what you want, how you want it. S-show me what you like”

With his confirmation you reached down to the side of his seat, letting it fall back until he was lying horizontally.

“Let’s have some fun then Joon.” you leaned down over him hiking up your best dress so that your thighs were freer and your purposefully worn sexiest panties were exposed and could grind against his dress pants and hardening bulge in them.

When your lips met with his they were more hungry and less gentle than the first time. Your tongue found his and encouraged it to play with yours.

He seemed less and less nervous as time went by, even placing his hands on your ass and squeezing in rhythm with your still clothed but damp core grinding into his erection under his dress pants. You undoubtedly needed more though, you craved to fluster him more, you wanted him to feel what he was doing to you, how he was absolutely wrecking you without doing anything at all.

“Touch me.” you pried your lips from his to demand.

“I-I- I’ve done that part before but I-I-” you lifted his hand and guided it to tour soaked panties and he began to touch you through the material, letting his fighters over where your clit lie underneath the sticky material.

“So good, you’re doing so good.” you moaned just desperate for his touch to the point where you would take anything from him. He sucked in a breath at your praise.

“Like that? What if I…” he slipped his hand down the front of your panties, pulling them down just enough to reach inside and once again run his fingers over your slit, but this time with nothing separating you from his touch.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you? I want you so badly.” you took hold of his wrist and guided his fingers until they were inside of you.

“Fuck.” he breathed a shaky breath. “So tight.”

You bounced a little on his two fingers taking them inside of you.

“Tell me that you dreamed of me taking your cock.” you moaned as you imagined it yourself.

“I have. I have for so long. Please fuck me.” he seemed so desperate and a tingle ran through you at how much you enjoyed the sound of him being so needy for you.

“Beg me Namjoon. Beg me to be the first to take your cock, show me how much you want me.”

“Please please please, please. Be my first, I want it, I want you,” he whispered sweetly and still breathlessly.

“Pull down your pants.” You ordered. his fingers left your pussy you couldn’t help but see the slick sheen of them as he fumbled with his pants. You leaned over into your seat and took the condom in your bag out that you had put there in hopes this all went well.

You opened the wrapper and rolled the latex down over his now exposed cock he had been slightly stroking. You were impressed with his size, he was hiding something pretty big in those dress pants all those years, maybe if you would have known all of this you would have offered to fuck him sooner, but you tried not to dwell on all of that, you just wanted to feel his cock fill you.

Your hips hovered over him, ready to take him at any second.

“Wait, we’re in p-public we could get in-”

“Trouble? You want to back out of this now?” you questioned with a raise of an eyebrow.

“No, no, no. I’m doing this.” he was determined, he reached for his glasses to take them off, but you stopped him.

“Leave them, I want you to see my face clearly when I cum for you, on your cock buried inside of me.” with that you lowered yourself down onto him. You didn’t take it too slowly when you finally had him entirely inside of you, you began to rock your hips right away, leaving him moaning and gripping your hips tightly with every movement.

It was bliss to finally have him in you, to be wrecking him underneath you like this, to hear him cursing with sensitivity under his hard, quick breaths.

You were leaning in so far forward to sporadically kiss him and bite at his lips roughly, that your clit rubbed against his pubic bone with every movement.

“You like that Joonie? You like the way you feel inside of this pussy?” You teased.

“Fuck.” he repeated among groans of pleasure with his eyes shut. “What-what id I accidentally-”

“It’s alright, it’s your first time, but try to hang in there and let me play with you just a little longer.” you coached, but you were already riding him so fast, just seconds from your orgasm, you were so out of breath and all you wanted was to let him feel you cum around him. You wanted to ruin him for life, and from the fucked out expression on his face you seemed to be doing your job.

The nerdy guy from work was balls deep inside of you and you could feel his cock twitching and hard, ready to release any second and finally give you what you had been daydreaming of for so many years.

His normally neat hair was a mess and his glasses were askew as his fingers dug further into your skin.

“Namjoon I’m so close.” you panted as you forced your hips to move faster. His jaw was viably clenched as he viably also struggled to hang on.

He slammed his hips up into you in time and that was what did it.

You gripped his white dress shirt and he let out a long moan. His cock twitching as you felt him release into the condom dragged out your high. You could only watch his furrowed brows as he seemed to hold your hips in place as he came.

Then you were left staring at each other, heavy breathed and not saying anything for a moment

“Y-you know, even if I wasn’t a virgin, that would have p-probably sill been the best sex of my life.”

You let out a laugh as you climbed off of him and back into your seat, pulling down your dress as you did so.

“Yeah, I have to admit you weren’t too bad, especially for someone who’s never done that before. You have drive and dedication… I guess I should’ve seen that coming since you show that in your job.” you talked through him pulling off the condom, wrapping it in a napkin, and tossing it.

“At least you think so, I was fired today too. Jokes on him though, we both have new jobs now anyway.” he smiled and you let your surprise show on your face “I told you earlier but you didn’t seem to be listening, now I know where your mind was.” he said, making you laugh.

“And that’s where my mind will be from now on, we should do this more since we’re still coworkers, our little secret, yeah?”

“As if I’d say no to the best sex of my life again.” he started the car and pushed his glasses back up.

“Still the only sex of your life, but I’m kind of glad it’s the only so you think it’s the best.” you snorted with laughter at your own statement.

“Like I said, even if it wasn’t my only and there were so many more before you, I swear it would still be the best.” he gave you a smile. you knew it was cheesy but it was still cute.

#sub!namjoon #sub namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon au #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #bts #ksmutclub #bts fanfic #namjoon one shot #namjoon x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts oneshot #namjoon x reader smut

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vercopaanir · 5 years ago

Text

One Day

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 26

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: After leaving Nevarro, the covert, and the two additions to your clan behind, the Mandalorian sets out on acquiring the bounty that will free the child from Imperial hands. The coordinates and tracking fob take you to an icy planet, and the bounty proves not to be the most dangerous part of the hunt.

Rating/Warnings: T, brief sexual themes

Words: 5.6k

Notes: Thank you all so much for allowing me space and time during a pretty stressful and emotional period. I really appreciate it. While it’s not over by any means, your continued encouragement and support means the world to me, and I’m so happy to give back to you with this story. I hope it continues to make you happy!

AO3

A leather gloved hand touches the back of your neck, and you flinch so violently that you knock a holopad off the shopkeeper’s counter. Din yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned, growing still at your reaction. Your face crumples when you realize you have once again floated away from the present, tangled in dreams that won’t leave while you wake and grief that won’t be shaken. You apologize profusely to the clearly annoyed vendor, kneeling down to gather the holopad and return it to its place on the counter that boasts the finest leathers and fabrics in the weapons shop. You don’t even remember what drew your interest over in the first place.

“Cyare?”

You turn, feeling forlorn and dejected to face the armored man who holds a securely wrapped infant in one arm, his other hand hanging low near his holstered blaster. You blink up into the dark glass of his visor, a small sigh leaving you. He handled you as if you were made of glass, of porcelain, and you feel like he might be right.

“Would you like to sit while I finish here?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s hardly louder than a rasp.

You nod meekly, taking the baby when he passes the child into your arms, and one hand touches your back to lead you to a small bench in the corner of the store. He hovers while you get comfortable, shifting the child so he is tucked beneath your cloak. Having few clothes to begin with, and fewer still after your favorite dress was torn on Canto Bight, Din had bought you new clothing. A thick, fur lined cloak that is almost too heavy graces your shoulders, but it is so delightfully warm and soft you loathe to take it off even indoors.

He watches you for a moment while you pull the cloak firmer around your shoulders before nodding hesitantly down toward you. He only turns when you try your best to smile, making his way back to finish his bargain for ammunition.

You had left Nevarro two days ago, stealing away in the hours before dawn when the world slept on and time moved like sap down the bumpy bark of a tree. You had been so exhausted, so heavy in your heart that Din had to pry you away from the mumbling, sleeping children when you had whispered your goodbyes. Corde had been excited for your adventure, as she called it, wanting to hear everything upon your return. Venka had hugged you until it nearly grew too much, but that morning, they had been too sleepy to truly be sad, something you were thankful for. Din carried you halfway when your knees buckled from exhaustion, and you had slipped into a tearful rest with the child in his bed.

No amount of sleep helps, though. You know through rationality that leaving Corde and Venka in the care of the covert, under the protection of Paz Vizla is the wisest choice. You could not live if either of them were hurt because of your selfishness, but you did not consider how much you would mourn how silent the ship is now, how lonely it feels, how complex and different your lives became when they clung to your skirts or the Mandalorian’s arms.

You have not left Din’s side, fully aware of how needy you are to follow him around like a lost kitten when he tinkers beneath a panel or goes into the hull to retrieve a tool. He says nothing to deter you, seeming just as listless as you, but you almost wish he would. You think it would be better if he spoke harshly, snapping you back into place like a fractured bone.

The baby seems even worse off. He sits at your feet, his petal shaped ears hanging dolefully as he rolls his durasteel ball against the wall so it will bounce back toward him, a sad and sorry replacement for his playmates. He turns his large, watery eyes up to you, and you scoop him up, not realizing how close to tears you are yourself. The two of you perch on either co-pilot seat at all hours, seeking the closeness your Mandalorian brings even with his back to you, piloting the ship through asteroid belts and over rings of different planets.

The University of Sanbra Guide to Intelligent Life is balanced on your knees, your soft-shoed feet propped up on one of the control panels so the baby can lean back against you more comfortably, and you read aloud to him and Din most hours, filling the ever encroaching silence with your voice until you’re hoarse.

When you’re not in the cockpit, you are in the hull practicing with your staff. You find old, busted holsters that Din doesn’t use and fashion them into a grip that you fit on the middle of the tool, protecting your hands while you grow used to the new reach you have. It takes time getting accustomed to opening and closing the staff, but soon you are flicking your wrist and unsheathing the beskar like a saber, which fills you with an undeniable excitement.

The first night, during dinner, you are tapping the staff against the floor of the hull while you explore the newly cleared out space. It gives you a clearer perspective of how wide the ship is, and Din is eating in the corner, sitting with his legs crossed and watching you. The child is busy reaching up for his plate, which Din must hold up in the air so the baby won’t eat so much he makes himself sick. Again.

“What happened to your first walking stick?” At your pause, you hear him clear his throat behind you. “I heard you say it was taken.”

“Walking aid,” you corrected lightly, tapping your staff’s end along the metal wall. It has a more hollow sound against the ramp, you find, than the reinforced sides of the hull, and you smile to yourself at this discovery. You explore this area, tapping lightly and muttering, “I was clumsy, broke too much with it. The Moff snapped it in half over his knee.”

He says nothing in reply, but later that night you notice, when you are grasping his shoulders desperately, astride him as he holds you so tightly against his chest, muttering Mando’a in your ear, that he has given your staff a place of honor beside his helm. Never far out of reach.

But sleep still does not come easy. It is a battle, fueled only by nightmares of a boot upon your cheek and the child crying. You wake in the night, bullets of sweat slipping past your eyebrows and down your neck, only fairly remorseful to rouse Din by your restlessness. He assures you the child is asleep, curled beneath blankets in his pram, but you don’t deny yourself the haunted memory of having heard him cry. You half expect to find a footprint upon your cheek when you wake again, or a back broken upon a beskar helmet.

Your dreams draw your conscience away from the present too often, enough to concern your lover who already has the world pressing down on his shoulders. You suck in a breath, shifting on the bench in the shop and pressing your cheek to the top of the baby’s head.

The intelligence given to Din when he received the fob for his bounty pinpointed the quarry on an icy, remote planet in the Hoth system. Not only would it take superior tracking skills, but neither you nor the child are prepared for the environment. He elected to stop at a small town on a moon he’d visited previously, not just to overstock his weapons’ locker but to supply you and the child with your new warmer clothing.

The bounties he collected on the Ivalice brothers had made him a wealthy man for a short time, he assured you whenever you hesitate to tell him you like something he might gift you. You are unused to being spoiled, with affection or material goods, but it seems to come more naturally to Din the longer you share his space and time. It is a queer and strange thing, seeing more of his personality when you had once only thought him to be cold and unfeeling, and it leads you to ruminate on this compassionate man beneath the armor you have grown to love handling, affixing to his body each morning and relieving him of it each night.

As you sit in the shop and listen to the vendor haggle prices, you feel the cold creeping through the windows, chilling you until you grow tired again. The child grows lethargic as well, his ears drooping and his eyes weighing heavy as he nuzzles close to your body heat. It occurs to you that perhaps his natural habitat is far removed from the ones you visit, and you wish to know more of his species, of his home. Din had told you that once, he was going to try and find the child’s people back when you were newly boarded to the Razor Crest and still shy around such a fierce warrior as a Mandalorian, but neither of you had spoken of it since.

The idea leaves you so sick, you have to actively push it away.

The thought of being separated from the child brings tears to your eyes, and you are swallowing the cries working their way up your chest when a warm, gloved hand rests on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Din kneels down quickly in front of you, helmet shining from the light in the shop windows, and you close your eyes against the glare, shaking your head helplessly.

The weak feeling of so many tears leaves you cross with yourself. Surely he feels some semblance of the grief you carry, and it’s not fair for you to languish in it while he’s shouldering through every task and chore to take up this job. You breathe deeply and sniffle, opening your eyes again with more resolve.

“I-I’m being stupid,” you mutter, your thumb tracing a wrinkle on the baby’s head. You wear gloves now too, dove grey and softer than his, another gift that accompanied your cloak. Din’s visor doesn’t stray from you, even when the vendor is shifting to eavesdrop out of your periphery. You clear your throat. “Are you finished?” you ask quietly.

He nods, slow to stand as if he fear you might tip forward. Tugging the cloak around you against the chill, he helps you to your feet and the three of you set out into the town. Misty, cold rain dances in the air above dirty, mud trodden streets, and you blink whenever it crystallizes on your lashes or dusts your cheeks. The baby sneezes when the mist tickles his ears, and when Din laughs at you both, you can’t help the smile it brings.

It is a welcome distraction from your sadness, from your nightmares, and you slip your free arm through his elbow, ignoring the sheathed staff that is affixed to the sash around your waist beneath the cloak. Somehow, even now, he is a surer and steadier anchor than beskar.

The town is built up, wooden and stone structures creating a city more than a town, filled with lumber workers and animal trappers. It has a rustic quality that you did not expect for a bustling enterprise hub, and when a medcenter comes into view, conspicuous by its many windows and telltale red stripe above the threshold, you come to a sudden stop.

“I-I need something,” you say suddenly, blushing high in your cheeks. Din turns to you, curiously tilting his head when you pass the baby into his arms. You shuffle the cloak tighter around you, glancing nervously up at his shadow against the grey, overcast winter sky.

“Alright.” His words hold no small amount of wariness. You purse your lips, understanding he isn’t going to be leaving you for this, and you sigh, gesturing towards the building. He glances between your destination and you, shrugging his pauldrons lightly, and when he speaks again, you think you hear a smile on his face. “...are you still shy?”

The blush unfurls in blatant heat, and you look away. Truthfully, you don’t think you won’t ever not be shy about such things. Dealing with your cycle, both as an indentured servant and slave, was one of the only times you were allowed privacy to yourself. You consider that, while you have shared your heart and mind and body with this man, he has never truly denied you anything. If you truly wish for him to wait outside, he will honor that.

“Do you wish me to change my nature?” you ask, shifting to remove your beskar from beneath the cloak. With a quick flick of the wrist, it stands beside you, allowing you to displace your weight properly and stand a little taller. “I don’t know if I can. I am modest in all ways of life.”

Din chuckles, following you through the sliding metal doors, but his quiet whisper behind your ear nearly has you skidding to a stop. “You are not always so timid with me, Mesh’la .”

When you turn to narrow your pale gaze at him, he is retreating to a corner of the lobby, folding himself in a chair and looking utterly unbothered.

Huffing, you walk up to the counter, speaking with the female alien quietly about needing a new implant. She takes you into an examination room, and you wait patiently for a doctor, unsure now that you are alone. This town is bigger, richer than Quanera, where you had access to a small-town doctor who administered your injection quickly and quietly. There had been no fuss. This time, the doctor who comes in takes your vitals, your blood, and your heart rate climbs as she glances at her holopad with a smile.

“Nervous?” she asks. She is a Twi’lek with deep blue coloring, and you think that her eyes are gold and very kind. “Your pulse is jumping a bit.”

“I’ve only seen a doctor once,” you confess, thinking of your examination upon purchase as a slave. You resist shuddering, curling your hands in your lap. “It’s...it’s been about six months since I received my implant.”

“That is the correct time length,” the doctor agrees, turning to her cabinet and opening the sterilized pouches with pristine gloves. “You’re very responsible to remember.”

The thought of what would happen should you forget makes your blood run cold for a moment. You have not truly thought of your body beyond a vessel, but since Kuiil extracted your chip, you have begun to appreciate things about yourself you had never paid attention to. Making choices like what clothes to cover yourself with (or not), how long or short you could wear your hair-such small things, you think, now make you feel ordinary. It is unfamiliar and altogether pleasant. Being able to go to bed with a man, with anyone of your choosing, had not been a possibility to you before.

Now, imagining having your body overtaken by something like a new life fills you with sickness in the pit of your stomach, feels like being stolen from.

But, at the same time, after the brief moment has passed, you think of being able to lay a hand on your belly and what Din’s blurry visage might look like if you spoke those words to him.

One day , you decide with resolution, rolling up your sleeve and presenting your arm happily to the doctor.

When you exit the examination room, you find the lobby empty. Your heart drops to your stomach, trying desperately to squint and hoping you have missed a shadow or shade that might be the Mandalorian, and you use your staff to tap against the edge of the counter, putting a hand out to steady yourself.

“Excuse me?” you begin to ask the nurse droid, but in that same moment, the Mandalorian strides back inside through the sliding metal doors, calling your name.

Relief washes over you, and you hold your hand out to his glove when he grabs your fingers, a grin on his face beneath the helmet from the sound of his voice. “Come look,” he says breathlessly. You notice the baby is wide awake now, ears perked high from beneath the blanket he is swaddled in, and you allow yourself to be led outside to find something remarkable.

“W-What is it?” you ask when you see that it no longer rains, shying back beneath the building’s covering, but Din gently leads you out into the cold street where other people have stopped to exclaim and point with excitement.

“Snow,” he says, glancing at you as you hold out your hand where wispy flurries begin melting on your covered palm. It’s so light, dancing in the air and never seeming to truly land anywhere. You can’t quite see it, only when it’s low enough or right in front of your face, and you sneeze when a few of the flakes tickle your nose.

The baby suddenly squeals with laughter, reaching his own tiny three fingered hand up to try to catch the delicate, fluffy flakes. You can feel the cold melting on your cheeks, dripping down your neck and beneath your clothes. Din reaches over and uses the back of his fingers to brush it away.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” you say gently, holding out your palm towards the sky. The beskar staff grows colder, begins to frost, and you twist it to fold it inside itself, slipping it back onto the loose sash of your dress. Now you hold both palms out, up to the sky, feeling the small kisses of snow melt through your gloves.

“Where we’re going, you’ll get sick of it,” he chuckles, bouncing the baby on his arm gently.

When you feel the cold on your lips, you dart your tongue out to taste it, gasping with surprise. You must stand there catching flakes in your palms and on your tongue for so long that you are surprised Din doesn’t sigh and shuffle you off. It’s only when you shiver, face damp from the floating ice, that he touches your back and says quietly that he should get you and the child out of the cold.

You take the baby from him when you board the Razor Crest, freeing him to take care of the pre-flight checks, and you giggle and kiss away the melting snow from the child’s cheeks until he snorts and hiccups with laughter. You blot away the rest with the corner of his blue blanket, smiling.

The small kitchenette upstairs isn’t the most modern of installations, but you are able to heat bone broth and bread, feeding the little one in the cockpit while Din pilots quietly. The familiarity of your surroundings sends you back months, thinking of when you were too intimidated to even speak, let alone sit with the armored warrior.

Once the child is fed, you allow him to toddle about in the limited space of the cockpit, standing to stretch and noticing a surprising splash of color near the Mandalorian’s glove. Moving closer, you rest your now bare hand upon the back of his neck, reaching over to touch the blue flowers in the clay cup the child had gifted him so long ago. They had since bloomed and dried into a fragile relic, and Din’s helmet tilts toward you as you caress it.

You wish you could take Corde and Venka to that field of flowers, splattered in violet and periwinkle.

Without speaking, the Mandalorian reaches out and flips a switch, letting go of the controls before gently guiding you by your hips to sit upon his armored cuisse. His glove rests upon the flesh of your waist, curled over the firm beskar staff still hanging there, and you press the warmth of your cheek against his cold crown of his helmet.

“It is okay to be sad,” Din whispers, both of you cognizant of the little child climbing over his boots beneath your feet. “You do not have to keep it inside you, to yourself.”

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, and you swallow them down hard. You have been crying so much, so freely, that it leaves you feeling guilty. His voice carries all the grief you have harbored since leaving the covert-perhaps even more. You rest one arm around the back of his shoulders, your other hand falling over the soft space between his vambrace and pauldron.

“I do not want to burden you even more,” you whisper, your eyes drifting through the blurry streaks of stars as autopilot guides the ship through the frigid depths of space. You can see the coordinates for your destination, though you cannot read them. They are a scarlet smear of digital letters, not unlike blood upon a stone. “It isn’t fair.”

Din is silent, though you have a feeling-one that comes beyond words, a feeling that is only shared between two people who have known each other so irrevocably-that he agrees, that he understands. You rest against him, in his arms, upon his legs, and you feel yourself listing into a dreamless sleep. Fatigue has followed you these short days after departing Nevarro, and traveling into the Hoth sector, where it feels even colder somehow, has left you mellow and slow-moving.

When you wake, you are slumped in the co-pilot’s seat, and you can hear the baby chirping close by. Din is pulling the ship into land, the descent through a bright atmosphere one of the smoothest you think he has ever flown, and you smile as your hands find the soft, heavy fabric of his cloak upon you, even while you still wear your own. As your eyes adjust to the lighting of the cockpit, you find you have to squint from such a brightness you’ve never experienced on board the Crest, the light reflecting off a harsh white view.

“Where are we?” you ask softly, slow to sit up and feeling a slight stiffness in your neck.

Din’s helmet tilts to the side, but he does not turn from the observation deck, flipping several switches to activate the landing gear. The light has not reduced, and it takes you much longer to adjust. You briefly wonder if he has some kind of photo sensor detection in his helmet that neutralizes the reflection. You feel the thrusters turn on, allowing a softer landing than you expect, and as the engines power down, he finally turns his chair smoothly to face you.

The baby coos from his lap, and a laugh bursts from between your lips.

“What is that!”

Din huffs indignantly, laying a palm on top of the baby’s head. It’s covered with a thickly woven wrap to protect his ears, swaddling him like some kind of decadently coated olive. You can’t make out what it’s made of, but the dark material only allows his face to be free. His ears wiggle at your laugh and he blinks his large, innocent eyes, making you grin wider as you stand.

“It’s freezing out there,” Din grumbles, allowing you to lift the child into your arms where he immediately begins to snuggle closer into your warmth. The wrap smells like Din, you think, and you hide a smile as you press a kiss to the baby’s brow. You turn your pale eyes upon the Mandalorian’s shadow before leaning down and kissing the steel above his visor, too.

“You are a sweet-hearted man, Din Djarin,” you murmur, unable to keep the lightness from your voice, your movements. His hand touches your waist tenderly, only falling away when you turn to retrieve his thick cloak from the chair you vacated. “Are we to wait for you to return from bounding and sneaking across the plains?”

He ignores your teasing, standing and receiving the cloak you offer him. You watch as he affixes it over his helmet, tucking it much tighter beneath the beskar than usual. “Yes,” he tilts his helmet towards you, and you sigh a little, wishing you could see his face. Knowing and understanding why you can’t for now. “But not yet. There’s something I want to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you follow him swiftly down the ladder, suddenly grateful for the thickly lined dress, woolen leggings, and thick boots he insisted upon. Din lowers the ramp, and you yelp at the sudden frigid blast of dry air that seems to frost everything around you like splintering cobwebs. You grab the baby up, burying him beneath your cloak and glaring at the Mandalorian who laughs at your scowling.

“I told you it was cold.”

Your answering glower does little to snuff out his laughter, and you allow him to tug your gloves back on one at a time, shifting the little child in your arms. It’s only when he steps out onto the ramp that you notice he has armed himself to the teeth, and his rifle is slung across his back. Once, it frightened you, but now it seems just another part of him.

Blinking against the bright light, you pull the hood of your cloak over the crown of your head before taking your staff out, comforted by the quiet clink of the beskar against the ramp as you step outside.

The sun glares down upon a frozen, empty surface, a thickly snowy hill country, and you think the Razor Crest must be the only blot of color on the entire planet. You sniffle against the cold, realizing as you walk down the ramp that the earth is not solid.

Immediately, you sink down nearly to your knees in soft, powdery snow.

“Din!”

His laugh is loud, barking through the vocoder, and you scramble to try and step through it, only succeeding in sinking further into the drift of white crystals that are melting less than before. It coats your boots, your leggings, your dress, and you sputter and spit the fluffy crystals off your faces.

The baby shrieks with happiness.

“Alright,” he laughs, stepping over and helping you out of the drift until you can find a place to stand more solidly. He brushes the snow coating your cloak, and you slap his elbow playfully.

“You could have warned me. That wasn’t funny.”

“You are very pretty when you are angry, though.”

Your cheeks blush hot enough to melt the speckles of snow on your eyelashes, and you duck your head bashfully, gently setting the baby down upon his feet. His tiny boots, sewn from the thick scraps of leather of Din’s worn holsters and lined with wool you’d taken from your own dress’s hem, barely leave footprints as he begins to waddle curiously. His little arms are thrust out on either side to retain his balance, ears wiggling with delight beneath his head wrap as he coos in wonder at the icy landscape around him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you finally sniff, hovering carefully behind the child as he makes a slow ramble through the snow, one hand splayed outward just in case he falls as you lean on your staff.

Warm, rough leather hands circle your hips, and you suck in a breath as you’re pulled back against hard beskar, and suddenly you don’t feel the cold at all. The curve of his helmet bumps the back of your head where your hood shields your hair, and you swallow against the sudden rush of heat blooming in your belly.

“I’d give you my rifle for another chance to see you challenge a man with it,” Din whispers, barely audible over the gentle breeze. Your pale eyes keep hold of the tiny ball of wool that is your son, huffing and puffing as he makes a path through the snow ahead of you, but you can’t say your attention is fully dedicated to him anymore, especially when Din’s hands begin to slip beneath your cloak, tracing the curve of your waist. Even through your layers, you can imagine the path his hands make, and you are burning beneath them now.

You turn your face over your shoulder, biting your lip. “I’m still unhappy with you for not telling me about that fight,” you mutter, shuddering when one of his hands cups your breast and squeezes, firm enough to nearly have your knees buckling. “I-I won’t...be distracted.”

His chuckle vibrates through the beskar chest plate against your back, and you have to close your eyes and breathe through the sudden dizziness of feeling him firm against your backside. He rests the lip of his helmet upon your shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You both stand together, your free arm folded over his as he holds you, watching the baby giggle and flop in the snow. He face plants forward, causing the both of you to burst with laughter, and he seems intent to try to make his imprint on the ground.

Kneeling down, you scoop snow into your gloved hand, squeezing and forming it experimentally. You had never truly considered what snow was like, having hailed from a temperate and balmy climate, but the way the bright sun glimmers, nearly too much, you can see the appeal. Your breath fogs before your face, and you blow rings into the air.

And then, a sudden splatter of snow swamps you from above, and you scream.

Whirling around, you find the Mandalorian holding his middle, shaking with restrained laughter, and you take two quick strides up to him before giving him a firm shove. Surprisingly, he loses his balance and tips over with ease, falling back into the pillow of a snow drift only to laugh harder in the face of your wrath.

“You’re such a bucket-head!” you laugh, picking up your own handful of snow and lobbing it at his helmet. The satisfaction of actually aiming and hitting your mark is stolen when he continues to laugh, a deep, rich, and warm sound, sprawled in the snow and deeply unaffected by your vengeance.

Panting with giggles, the baby waddles at top speed through the icy powder, giving a wiggling hop to pounce upon his father’s chest as if to claim a prize. You plop down on his other side, thumping hard on the chest plate with the mythosaur carved in the top of your staff.

“This is what you wanted to show us, is it?” you challenge, knowing he’s beaming under his visor. He folds his hands under his helmet as if he could simply take a nap, and you grin down at him, shaking your head. The baby moves to sit on his chest, grunting until he squeals in triumph and begins to slap his tiny hands upon the helmet like playing a drum.

“Alright, womp-rat,” Din grunts, lifting the child up high in his arms as he sits up. The baby coos, throwing his hands out as if he could fly through the air, and you giggle when you watch Din sit the little green infant upon his shoulder. He offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet with more delicacy than Paz Vizla, brushing snow off your shoulders. You smile, pushing yourself up to your toes and pressing your warm forehead against his cold one.

Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep-

Din tenses, his hands gripping like iron with a near bruising strength around your wrists suddenly. You blink, foggy and distant in the planes of affection and play, before you realize the soft echoing radar comes from his own person. He has gone completely still before you, the tracking fob giving off a subtle blinking red light at his hip, and as you draw your pale gaze up to him, you realize why.

On the horizon of the otherwise blindingly white landscape, there is a small smear of color in the distance, hardly noticeable at first, a blotting of red like dripped wax on paper, but you see it as it moves. Moving toward you, and Din. And the child.

“Get him inside,” Din snarls, thrusting you and the little one sharply behind him before striding through the snow like a shadow defying the bend of light, shouldering his rifle with the ease of a practiced killer. “And lock yourselves in.”

Your heart is a panicked, fluttery thing, a frightened rabbit in the open sight of prey, and you clutch the baby in your arms, wrapping him firmly against your chest even when he begins to fuss at the jolting movements. You are clumsy, stumbling through the snow and tripping even with your staff, nearly falling several times in your attempt to get back to the ramp of the Razor Crest. It is slick with ice and snow, and you slip on the lip of the threshold, landing painfully on your knees. Fear is clawing up your throat, and you feel tears sting your eyes when the child begins to whimper over your shoulder, reaching out his tiny hands toward his father.

Using the staff to draw yourself up, you slam your gloved hand against the release switch to shut the hull, looking desperately across the tundra for a sign of the man you love, for the prey he hunts, but all you see is white.

Mando’a Translations:

Cyare - Beloved

Tag List: @lavenderl3mons @itzagoodthing @letaliabane @kateb013 @yodaswrinkles @catsnkooks @notawhitegirlblog @ihaveashield @sinnamon-bunn @just-a-dreammm @tiffdawg @lackofhonor @btillys @collectivefandom @kylolover96 @little-ms-fandom @earthtokace @blondecity @gaybroadwayloser @forever-rogue @lizajane3 @rzrcrst @themandjalorian @netflixandsnuggle @mrsparknuts @lonelystarship @adikaofmandalore @avoreahspromise @emilykjhgsj @fioccodineveautunnale @lokilover-39 @shesthelastjedi @yes-music-is-my-religion @rnlaing @peachdameron @theocatkov @mando-and-the-child @multifandom-fiasco @paryl @golden-mando @katialvi @toppaazzz @dragongirl642 @themilkface @menedraws @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @reallyfuckingangrylatina @literallytrashhhhhh @plipaya @kass-daily @ntlmundy @sikenurse @honestlystop @lukesrighthand @layla1974 @luosymekawa @bunnyart-blog @rika-cchi @chessurkitti @leo-moon @b0nchan @ladyjaye7@benedrylcumbersnatch @ntlmundy @jerusomeeno@ezraslittlebirdie @frietiemeloen @luminarahan @firehoopinmama@b0nchan @ezraslittlebirdie @oloreaa @cptnbvcks @prettyboydevito @oohsweetdarling @datmando @dartheldur @nosrslyareanyusernamesnottaken @mandoandyodito @ezrasarm

#The Lovely Moons #The Mandalorian Fanfiction #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian x You #Din Djarin x you #Din Djarin x Reader #Mandalorian x You #Mandalorian x Reader #my writing #my fic

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batarella · 4 years ago

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The Commander - Part 7 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

LISTEN IF YOU WANTED TO HURT YOURSELF TODAY, OR YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO GET YOUR HEART TORN OUT FROM YOUR FLESH.

READ THIS

WORDS: 1832 WARNINGS: YOU’RE GONNA HURT YOURSELF READING THIS

Masterlist

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

The winds from their heights were stronger. But they were silent. And it was cold enough for one to notice. So quiet, there was not even the rustling of grass.

The Arkham Knight held the Commander’s face, hard at first, then his hold went lenient. His lips were nothing like she remembered. His kiss was soft, only slightly teasing her own, like a delicate little touch. Commander Y/N held his wrists out of the shock, but as his warmth sank in, her hands trailed down his arm, up his shoulders. Then there was the intimate seep of his tongue, his hands holding her still, she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. He’s never kissed her like this.

The Commander held him by the waist, not another thought surpassed the focus she had on his hold on her. It didn’t feel demanding at all. She didn’t dare pull away. Somehow she feared he would stop. But he didn’t. The Knight didn’t once bite her lip, nor cause her any pain. No one had touched her so gently before.

And in a daze, it was over too quickly. Her lips weren’t numb. They felt wonderful, in fact, like a slight sting or a buzz that never left. He held on to her even then. She would look at him and the first thing she’d notice are his eyes. The most beautiful pair in the world, a glowing blue that would match the shine of the clear blue ocean and an endless abyss that would push you into a never-ending fall at each glance. She could feel a sting deep in the pit of her chest when his stare felt like a knife being thrown into her physicality. His eyes where her favorite thing to look at.

But now as she stared at him with his eyes closed, she marveled over the other gorgeous parts of his face that his eyes would normally overshadow. His long nose, the scar near his blunt red lips, his jaw. Every part of him looked so perfectly placed, so much that the J on his left cheek did little to nothing to even make a dent in his perfection.

The Knight let go of her, breathed in her scent, then stepped back. He couldn’t even look her in the eye. He closed his visor and backed off, then swung a leg over his bike.

“Knight-“ He started the engine, yet was too silent, and it overwhelmed her. It didn’t look like he was going to wait for her. The Commander picked up her helmet from the floor.

She trailed closely behind him before he’d drive off and leave her. Somehow she expected him to do that. The streets were empty now, but nothing about her was silent. She didn’t exactly know what she was telling herself, despite her head causing so much noise she managed to ignore the drum of her bike.

A jet was waiting for them outside of town. They only had so much time. They reached the back alley. The Knight had already grappled up to the apartment before she could even park her bike. Slowly, she stepped into the window. His visor was on the desk, and he stuffed all he had into a duffle bag without so much as batting an eye at her.

“Can you not tell anyone about what you saw?”

His voice was raw, and he didn’t sound angry at all. It sounded more like a plea. She should say something. Anything.

“I won't.”

Then all she could stare at was him, when he kneeled down and folded the sheets discarded on the floor so neatly, she just couldn’t see him in the same light anymore. It didn’t matter what he wore, how his armor made him look dangerous.

The Arkham Knight was just a miserable, broken young man, hurt by someone he trusted with his life. He stopped with the sheets, kneeling on the floor. He stared at the black and let the emptiness consume him.

Y/N kneeled down next to the Knight, taking him by the wrist. He looked frightened out of his wits, so terror-stricken that he looked like he had just witnessed a demon out from hell. His eyes, looking just as dejected as they were afraid, looked wearily straight into hers. His hands shook so uncontrollably it was like he was shaking from the cold.

She didn’t know if she should ask or just hold him, all she knew was how warm his head was and the sweet smell of his hair when he leaned down on her shoulder.

For once, the Knight was the weakest one in the room. All his weight was on her, but she didn’t hesitate to immediately wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. Yet he still couldn’t bring to look at her in the eye. He fell into her, slowly.

Until today, all she could think of when she looked at him was his body. Every touch felt, every kiss, every thrust, she could remember like the back and front of her hand. It was maddening, how those thoughts could just barge into her mind’s backdoor and act as if they owned her, how much she’d lusted for him.

She’d often find herself in a daze, feeling of his lips against her neck, or when the tingle in her spine at the last thrust of his hips didn’t make her thighs press hard together.

None of that could compare to now.

None of those thoughts came to mind.

He became someone she didn’t want to get hurt anymore, someone she wanted to fight for, fight with, someone who made her want to ward of anything that comes remotely close to laying a hand on him, to destroy everyone who’s ever caused him pain. It was someone she wanted to protect, no matter how much the Knight would hate that.

Y/N could tell he was holding back his tears, but before she could even touch his cheek, he slowly pulled away.

This time, their eyes met in the most intense, heated way possible. He looked so deeply into her that despite the dimly lit room, it wasn’t hard for her to still notice how blue his eyes were. She could compare his stare to a dagger, only each time it impaled her, she felt no pain.

She looked back at him with the same force, almost as if she was telling him to let her feel his lips again. But as he caught on and started leaning forward, her hand stopped him from going any further.

He stopped, a bit bemused at her reaction, and started to lean in again thinking it was nothing. This time she pulled her head back and whispered a tiny ‘no’ before she could change her mind.

All those nights of touching herself, wanting his body. And now he was vulnerable.

She can't take advantage of that.

She didn’t even want that anymore.

He backed off and looked down at her hand firm on his chest. She did too. Her calloused yet tender palm rested right where his heart was. His chest was warm, solid under her heated touch. Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly the air that stung from the cold breeze rushing through the broken glass of the window battled with the searing eminence of the tension of their two bodies being this close together.

She hugged him again. This time, he hugged her back. And his arms were warmer than she’d ever remembered. The beating of his heart started rapidly, so hard that it felt it was going to climb out of his chest. But the more he felt her warmth, how her cheek felt pressed against his neck, his heart slowed down as fast as it quickened.

He gave in to her. The nightmares he must have had, she thought, how traumatizing could they have been to break down even the strongest of military commanders.

She had her fingers around the strands of his hair, playing with them just to keep her hands busy. For a long moment, neither of them spoke a word or moved a muscle.

But just before she began pulling away, his voice started out with the most silent whispers.

“Jason.”

She pulled her head back, but he wasn’t looking at her in the eye. “What?”

“My name. It’s Jason.”

Jason.

Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason.

Suddenly the air felt a little lighter and the shine of the bright full moon peeking through the broken glass seemed just a bit brighter.

His name. That was his name. Jason. The hurt young man in her arms. And she realized she knew everything about him.

The Jason who liked to bite his bottom lip when he was stressed out. The Jason who liked to scrunch and run his fingers across his dark hair to relax himself. The Jason who had a smile that changed his entire face, who smoked but could never finish a whole box by himself, whose burp could be heard from the next room after eating four whole burgers. The Jason who scratched his nose when he read and would accidentally forget his visor was in the way. The Jason who had the most beautiful eyes, ones she could never look away from. The Jason who didn’t think she’d notice when he stared at her for too long.

He was a young boy, living without his parents in an abandoned apartment, stole just to survive, then taken in as Batman’s young ward far before he was even given a chance at a life he didn’t have to fight for. And somehow, it turned him dark, and he never arose from the moment he fell.

Y/N never even realized she knew all those things about him, not even that she’d ever noticed all the most miniscule things no one else would’ve cared about. But she did, and it all flooded into her mind when he told her his name.

This wasn’t the Knight anymore. This was Jason.

Suddenly, so suddenly, he became real.

And it tore her apart, holding him so tightly in her arms, how she could just feel herself yearning for him.

It was slow, but she could feel it. More and more she wanted him. It was an agonizing, painful descent, but the abyss she fell into was so deep, so dark, she knew there was no going back. And it hurt all the more, because he doesn’t even know just how much she knows about him.

He lightened his hold on her, holding her wrists. Jason- Jason- pulled away. “Forget everything about today.”

He removed her hands from his neck, moving back. Y/N didn’t have it in her to react.

“Everything…”

Then he stood up, grabbing his visor and his bag. He disappeared out the window before she could even move.

She took a while on the floor, staring at the thrown-out pizza box and burger wrappers.

-----

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki @everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208 @offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal @mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive

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biznichwrites · 5 years ago

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A Dream Come True

Length: 5K Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

This is to go hand in hand with @dudeandduchess‘s accompanying post in which we had alternative endings with this fic. I wrote until the end of the smut, after which we created our own endings. Think of it as yin and yang.

If you would like to read Jen’s nightmare version check it out here.

She had filled her head with pretty lies, thoughts of soft, fluffy things that tickled her stomach like butterflies. The sight of one of the few other water breath users - the pillar, in fact - brought a smile to her face. He was perfect for the role - eyes as blue as the ocean, steady like the waves, strong like a deep current, carving his own path like a river, yet calm like the water's surface at night.

What started as infatuation became a crush, leaving her whole world centered around him. Inside she knew she wouldn't grab his attention, even if she was one of a handful of slayers at the water estate. Their rarity made them all busy on missions, there wasn't much time to see each other in passing, so she treasured every moment spent in Giyuu's presence.

Despite their schedules, she tried to do more for him. The maintenance he had performed almost single handedly was spread among the both of them. Mending his uniforms when they were damaged, even his beloved haori once. Salmon was always stocked once she figured out it was his favorite, even going as far as to cook it just as he liked. That was a mistake on her part - his glowing smile pulled her in deeper.

Still she felt her heart ache over the months. No matter what she did he never spoke a word to her, not that he really spoke to anyone else. Had she done something to make him hate her?

The day she had given up on his heart came shortly after. It wasn't often she needed help or saving, but a lower moon was a bit beyond her hope to slay. She had kept neck and neck with it for some time, praying that a pillar would arrive to slay it before it ate her. Like written from a bad romance novel, her Pillar came just as she felt weak after hours of battling, his blade cutting through the neck of the lower moon with ease.

Her knight in shining armor, so to speak. He came to save her, specifically him. Her heart fluttered in joy, tears gathering in her eyes. Maybe he would be impressed that she managed to last so long, to stay alive and keep the moon busy until someone stronger arrived. Her breath hitched as she heard him inhale, as if to speak.

"He wasn't much trouble, you should have been able to slay him. If you're weak you should know not to challenge a moon." He hadn't spared a glance her way, simply flicking his sword to clear it of blood before sheathing it. Her heart broke as he walked on, leaving her to watch the mismatched haori on his back as the distance between them grew.

***

"Giyuu, you should try to get close to others! I know it's scary but there's plenty of people out there that are nicer than the way Shinobu makes it seem." Tanjirou smiled at the elder water slayer, urging Giyuu to connect to others the way they had, at the very least.

"I'm not sure about that. People don't like me." Giyuu sat with his legs pulled up by the bank of the river they stopped at.

"All you can do is try! Didn't you want to become friends with Sanemi?" Tanjirou wasn't going to let Giyuu escape this time, even if it meant some friendly pestering.

"Yeah, I think he likes ohagi so I was going to give him some." Giyuu stared into the distance, trying to imagine the violent man attempting to receive a gift.

"What about (Y/N)? She's been nice!" Tanjirou was hoping to point out anyone who had been kind to the pillar, at least someone who wasn't filled with malice.

"Who?" Giyuu's face went blank at the name, unable to recall who the name was attached to. "I quit remembering names of most slayers since they die so fast."

Tanjirou deflated at that, finding it sad for Giyuu to view life in such a bleak manner. It felt him grasping at straws to find the correct words to express himself as he thought of what to say next.

"You remembered me before I was a slayer! She survived a solo fight with a lower moon, I don't think she's dying any time soon, you know." Tanjirou hoped the other would understand what he was saying, at the very least.

"Oh… She didn't beat the moon, though." Giyuu, like a child that was done with the conversation, drew idly in the sand below them with a stick.

"Well we can work on the ohagi for Sanemi, how about that?"

***

Giyuu thought of the girl Tanjirou had mentioned. He didn't know what to make of it all - she had survived, which is what he was looking for in a friend, but she wouldn't have without help. At the same time neither would have Tanjirou. Perhaps he was being too critical, she was still alive and kicking to this day.

However he hadn't seen her much since then. Maybe she was training more? That was enough of an explanation for him. It wasn't unusual for the entire water estate to be empty with as few of the water breath users completed the final selection, much less survived long enough to rank high enough to live in the estate.

The next time he saw her, presumably after a mission as she was returning at dawn, he recognized her more than just a name. He bit his tongue, unsure what to say as he stood on the engawa staring at her tired body limping closer. The moment her eyes caught his she glanced away, turning towards another part of the estate to rest in.

He would have questioned it more, but occurrences like this weren't uncommon. People avoided him, that was normal. Yet the way she kept herself at a distance made him want to find out why she did such a thing. Why did she hide away from him?

His breath caught in his throat one morning, watching as she sat on the far end of the engawa in a simple yukata. She must be getting ready to sleep, given most slayers were nocturnal, but he thought she looked nice in the morning sun. Pretty even.

Months drug along, her eyes never meeting his own. Yet he felt himself drawn to her. All the actions she had taken before - he hadn't forgotten them, but he hadn't fully appreciated them at the time either. She had done something for him without being asked with nothing in return. Someone that selfless couldn't be a bad person. He still felt a bit bitter with himself for being so critical with her, the same he felt with Tanjirou. Neither deserved that.

***

It wasn't until Murata and a few others had saved up a large sum of money to buy enough alcohol to drown all the demon slayers, that he had a chance to interact with her. The whole time he was tense, almost awkwardly staring at her the whole time.

"Earth to Giyuu, you there?" Really, Murata was the only one that talked to the pillar so freely, with the exception of Tanjirou. Having kept the pillar alive at one point gave him a bit of the right, so no one spoke of it.

"Hm?" Giyuu's head turned back to Murata, clearly not aware of anything he had just said.

"I was seeing if you were going to drink with us. We're celebrating a year of not losing any water breath users. I figured of anyone you'd want to join." Murata handed him a bottle, not really waiting for a response. Was it responsible for a pillar to drink? Not at all. Had they organized this with Kagaya in mind? Of course, they had consulted with him to make sure they could celebrate freely.

Giyuu stared at the bottle then back to Murata, eyes flickering between the two. "I've never drank before…"

"Now is a good time to start!" Murata laughed with a pat to the pillar shoulder before disappearing into a small bunch of slayers.

***

Giyuu had drank nearly half the bottle in the course of a few hours, but he didn't find himself relaxed. Rather he found himself in a flurry of emotions - sad remembering everyone he's lost, angry with himself for allowing his life to be ruined by both demons and his own mismanagement of his emotions, but most surprising of all he found himself jealous.

The only female slayer of the bunch was flirted with endlessly. Most of the less than classy lines were met by laughter by the slayers. He knew they were treating it as a joke, even when she pretended to be the man hitting on Murata pretending to be a woman, but he didn't like it. He rested knowing that it was all in fun, though.

His drunken eyes met hers, making her already flushed cheeks even more red than previously before she glanced away. He was happy she was mindful to wear hakama, least the drunk young men around them get any ideas.

"Murataaaaa, when are you gonna get a wife? You keep talking about settling down but you're doing a shit job at it." Her laughter was kind enough, even if she was poking fun.

"(Y/N)! You know I-I-I---! I'm trying! It's just difficult!" Murata floundered under the playful scrutiny before returning a rebuttal, "So when are you getting married (Y/N)?"

"You know I'm dying alone, don't ask dumb questions." She laughed, but the laughter joining her was awkward, quiet and confused. Technically she could pick any slayer and they'd say yes - just for a lack of women around them, especially ones that understood the nature of their jobs. A moment passed but no further comments or banter had been added to the conversation after her bleak comment. Her face heated realizing she had made a fool of herself, not that Murata was much better as he fumbled moving the conversation forward.

Giyuu watched as she tilted up the porcelain of her heated sake, taking in how her throat contracted as she gulped. Was it proper for her to drink like that? No. But it technically wasn't traditional for women to wield swords and hunt demons, so it wasn't like social protocol meant much to her anyway.

Almost silently she slipped away, padding over to her room at the far end of the estate. His eyes followed her movements, taking in the dejected way she looked. Was she broken-hearted? He didn't understand why, she was pretty in her own way, stronger than most gave her credit for, smart enough to stay alive. Maybe he was more fond of her than he let on.

After some time the men grew rowdy, playing games and raising their voices. Murata seemed to stop drinking after a certain point, clearly aware of his limits.

"Murata?" Said slayer turned his attention to Giyuu, almost surprised that he spoke. "Is there something wrong with (Y/N)? She left a bit ago."

"Oh… I made a mistake and brought up something I shouldn't have, she's probably just having some time to herself." Murata prayed the Pillar didn't press for more info, being one of the few she admitted the situation to. He was far too drunk to stop himself from slipping up.

"Is she sad?" The lower ranked slayer blinked at the question, taken aback at how simple it was.

"Yeah, she just has her ways of dealing with it - wait! Where are you going?" Giyuu stood, moving toward the woman's room without another word. Murata prayed it didn't make things worse.

***

The pillar stood outside her door, listening as her crying was muffled into hitched breaths and harsh inhales to quiet herself. He wasn't sure what he was doing with the alcohol in his system, but he slowly pushed the shoji open and closed it quietly behind him.

"Is there something wrong?" He was trying to be nice but the jump of surprise from her was clearly not the reaction he was searching for. Her hand rested above her heart in surprise before gripping the cloth in anguish.

"I'm fine. You can go back to the others." Her head tilted away, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm sure Murata didn't mean to upset you. Did something happen? Did you lose your fiance?" It was the only explanation he could rationalize why she wouldn't take a spouse when she had her choice of men flirting with her earlier.

"I said I'm fine. Leave me alone." She flopped back down on her futon, facing away from him. He wished she didn't look so pretty or the light of the moon didn't accentuate the curves of her waist and hips. Despite her words he never left, she knew at the lack of sound her shoji made when open and shut.

Rather he shuffled closer, nowhere near as elegant as he usually moved. Still he slid his fingers into her hair, finding himself rationalizing the feel of her hair with the need to sooth her.

"I'm sure you could find a husband in the slayers if you're worried about that." He didn't like it, especially the thought of not being able to freely look at her and the risk of never being able to touch her again.

"I said my plan was to die alone, it's not that complicated."

"Why?"

"Men don't want a woman like me." Her words croaked from her throat and he could help but sink into the futon and pull her back to his chest. His nose was pressed to the back of her hair and he could bask in her scent.

"That's not true." The more of her he got, the greedier he became. He wanted to remind her that the other water breath users would marry her, but she clearly wasn't interested.

"You don't know that." He felt her back trembling as she held back her distress and he hugged her closer. "I'm covered scars, I can barely fight and I'm a pitiful slayer, I don't have anything to my name but what I wear, I'm not pretty and dainty like other girls-"

Her hands covered her mouth. She was complaining to the very person that filled her with insecurities. Deep inside she wanted to hate him, but she couldn't. It didn't mean she wasn't bitter. Her love for him had soured, painting her into a corner of self depreciation. She knew this wasn't him, this was some drunken version of the man likely looking to have a piece of her.

For what it was worth, she would let him. At least it would be the final chapter to the broken heart saga of her life.

"None of that is true."

"I don't need lies to make me feel better."

He was growing a bit frustrated. His hand gripped her waist, both keeping her still and holding her to him. He was painfully aware he could slide his hands lower to grip the curve of her hips or slide his hands upward to cup her breasts.

"You're pretty. A good slayer. You're good as you are." He couldn't think of anything more grand to say, not that he was eloquent with words anyway. He prayed she understood, but the pause in her response made fear eat at his chest. Had he said the wrong thing?

"...Did you want to sleep with me?" That was the only conclusion she could think of. He was drunk and needed a body that was willing. If he was into women she was the closest one, and considering she was the only one in the estate he had to act fast.

"Sleep with you?" His words were quiet, as if he was scared to say them loud enough.

"As in sex. Did you want to have sex with me?" She was only so bold because she was facing away from him. The alcohol and bitter feeling in her chest brought up the question, but she could never work up the nerve to ask if she was looking directly at him.

He buried his face against her neck weighing the options. She was drunk, but so was he. There was no way either should do this. At the same time he doubted the option would ever be available again, especially as his attraction to her grew.

"Yes…"

***

He hovered over her, pushing in deeply with a moan. Her eyes had shed so many tears through the night, even more when he undressed her, but he couldn't help but to find her more addicting than before.

"You're so warm, oh fuck…" His head rested against her shoulder as he found himself able to thrust into her depths. "You're so beautiful, so perfect."

He heard her crying harder, moans of pleasure breaking through her moans of agony. Long had passed the attempts to calm her tears, especially when she grew nervous when he saw her naked.

He never missed her whispers of self depreciation, how she fought all compliments that slipped from his lips as he undressed her layer by layer. Even if she found herself disgusting he couldn't agree with her. Every scar he uncovered, every little imperfection his eyes found cemented his infatuation.

It was her, something so unique to only her. No one else could replicate every little aspect of her.

Yet he couldn't make her stop crying. Soft whispers of praise didn't just fall on def ears but only pushed her into further despair. Every kind thing he said only brought more tears.

He didn't miss how her hips canted into his, how her eyes grew hazy as pleasure set in - the way her lips trembled after he kissed her, the second of hope in her eyes before she turned her head away.

The soft hiccups between whimpers were never lost on him. They came at his every kiss and praise, every moment he touched her in a way she enjoyed. As if some part of her wanted to receive his adoration before becoming buried in negativity.

She couldn't deny it, either. Simply knowing he didn't despise her, or at least a part of her, both healed and hurt her. For a moment she had some value to him. She was someone worthy of his sole attention.

Rough hands graced her body, pushing her hair from her face before guiding down her neck to cup her breast, gently squeezing her nipples before tracing her scars down her torso. When he reached her hips one hand held firm while the other graced the area above where they were joined. He remembered in a haze that men had talked about women feeling good there. A clit? All he knew is that her legs tightened around his hips the moment his thumb grazed the tip of the bud.

Abusing such a sensitive spot to see her reactions was a bit cruel on his part, but he wanted to see her relieved of her tears. It was time she felt good - both in terms of sex and about herself. He basked in the moment he hands left her face to cling to the bedding below her.

Dipping down he kissed her lips again, taking in how she seemed to squeeze tighter at the simple piece of affection. Despite the fact she felt inferior he adored having her like this - seeing her broken, in a way no one else has seen before, and the ability to see her put back together again. The vulnerability neither showed the world, only shared with the other.

He shifted his hips, thrusting deeper than before. She clenched around him in ways that made him regret never considering doing this sooner. At the same time he knew their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Their suffering was similar in a sense, they both could understand not having any value in themselves. Had he really been so blind to her all this time?

"You're so good." His head fell to her shoulder as his hips jerked into her warmth. The man felt elation when she gave in and clung to him. At first her hands were lightly touching, only loosely circling his back. Even if he wasn't sober he recognized enough of her reactions to make her react how he wanted.

Kisses were placed to her cheek and jaw as he tilted his head from her shoulder. Her breath shuttered, her nails timidly scratching his skin as her hold grew more firm.

He didn't expect her to orgasm from such simple affection but he couldn't explain why else her core felt as if it were milking his cock. Her arms and legs tightened around him, pulling him flush against her as her face buried into the curve of his neck.

It was welcoming to hear a cry of pleasure rather than anguish. The sound graced him, bringing him to climax shortly after her. Had he been sober he would have been more mindful of mindlessly cumming inside her without a second thought. For the moment he wanted to bask in the feeling. The after glow of sex was only highlighted by the feeling on her nuzzling into his neck.

For a moment she accepted him. Someone liked him, even if he could still hear her hiccup as warm tears covered her cheeks again. He considered wiping her tears away but decided that he would rather let her hide against his chest. It was somewhere safe, where the judgements of the world that had brought her so low couldn't touch her.

Her heart throbbed at the feeling of him holding her close, even as they shifted to lay chest to chest on the futon. His cum dripping out to dirty her thighs wouldn't deter her for enjoying the moment. Regret and shame could come later, for now she wanted to accept just a grain on the validation he gave. Even if he regretted in the morning she wanted to savor the moment.

***

The next morning, or rather afternoon, came too soon. Her eyes hurt, presumably from all the crying she had done, and her body was simply tired. While she wasn't sober, she remembered the previous night. Perhaps with less clear detail than she'd prefer, but the feeling hadn't changed. Tension gnawed at her stomach as she felt the water pillar's warmth against her skin even before she opened her eyes.

Giyuu woke silently, as always, but with a shadow of a smile on his face. Not that anyone could see it, not even his bedmate. Still waking up with her in his arms was a pleasant feeling. She hadn't run away from him, hadn't pushed him away again. She had accepted him, at least for the time being.

The futon wasn't made for two people so it was to be expected they were pressed flush together. Yet neither felt uncomfortable. His back blocked the light faulting through the shoji, sparing her eyes the brunt of the light.

She had assumed the night after a half tipsy hook up would be more awkward, but the moment his fingers traced her spine she found herself melting into him and the blankets. The bitter feeling inside hadn't disappeared, but the harsh things she believed to be fact that haunted her seemed to be farther away more than ever.

Timidly she nuzzled against him, testing the waters of his affectionate gestures. Warm hands pressed against her back, pulling her into him. Her arms circled him tentatively, only applying the lightest of pressure before returning his hold on her.

His heart throbbed, feeling as if it were in his throat. While he found actions easier than words things became more confusing the more awake he became. Holding her out of some sleepy instinct seemed right, but now he was awake and aware of what he was doing. However she seemed to like it, even reciprocating of her own free will. It was a much better turn of events than her crying about being unlovable or something of the sort.

"Good morning, Giyuu." He looked down to find her peeking up at him, seemingly just as unsure of herself as he felt. Yet he didn't miss the hopeful glimmer in her eyes, the way she subconsciously held on to him. She really didn't want him to leave, did she? "How are you feeling?"

"Morning. I'm fine." More than fine, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself. Unconsciously his hand rose to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. He struggled to hold a conversation, but he'd try for her. "You?"

"I'm great. Tired though, still." With a heaving breath she buried her face against his neck as he had done to her the night before.

"One thing." Her eyes blinked in surprise, unused to him sparking more conversation. Anxiety rolled in her stomach again worrying about all the possibilities he could bring up. Was he going to ask her to let go so he could leave? Not tell anyone? Was he ashamed of sleeping with her? Yet when he spoke he sounded as if his word was final, nothing to be debated.

"Don't talk about yourself like that anymore."

***

Months passed without incident, the pair of water breath users growing closer by the day until either were inseparable between missions. While Giyuu was never a fan of public displays of affection, the rest of the estate could see the change in him.

"Is something different?" Murata whispered to Tanjirou, who was sneaking a glance at the water pillar with him.

"Absolutely. I can't tell what, but I can smell the happiness on him." The younger slayer tapped his nose before the elder took a hold of the top of his head and twisted it back to focus his sights on the engawa.

The once sad slayer, one who had given up on her heart, sat next to Giyuu with a grin that could blind the room. Even the pillar himself couldn't help but return the sentiment with a shy smile of his own. As she took his hand his cheeks flushed a pink tone, as if that had been the most indecent thing they had done thus far.

"Good morning, Giyuu." Lips pressed to his blushing cheek, same as she had done every day since they agreed to be together shortly after their drunken, steamy night. His cheeks plumped with the happy smile before returning to a simple content expression.

"Good morning, dear." He couldn't deny it was odd at first, but receiving her affections had become the highlight of his day. Even if he was too shy to return them all in the public eye, he held her hand more firmly as a silent promise to grace her with the love she gave him later.

I'm the distance the lower ranking slayers looked on in surprise. Murata, who had a notion of what happened, soon wiped his face of shock to replace it with comical tears of joy.

"She did it! Tanjirou, she did it!" Murata shook Tanjirou's shoulders in excitement, not mindful about being caught in the moment. "She finally got him to break his shell. Look at them! Oh my-"

Murata's mindless blubbering went on and on, while Tanjirou sniffed the air. Something was different, a familiar scent but he couldn't quite place it. Wait, was she-?

"Giyuu, I actually needed to talk to you." Tension rose in him as his lover said that, but her demeanor was not the same style of tense. Rather she seemed a bit anxious but not angry or upset. His hands held both of hers, as if there were a silent plea to not leave. The shy upward curve of her lips soothed him.

"I don't really know how to say it more eloquently, but…" Her hand took his, pressing it to her stomach. "We're going to be parents."

Below his palm he could feel the fabric of her yukata and the skin below. It was firmer than he remembered, likely from their child growing within.

"You're really…? It's mine…?" His eyes were wide, jaw slack as he pressed both hands around her stomach, even if it hadn't grown much yet. Perhaps that's how he hadn't noticed before.

"Of course, I haven't been sleeping with anyone but you." She laughed to herself as he all but slid off the engawa to sit on the ground and become level with the child growing within her. Idly her hands traced through his hair as his eyes bore into her form.

"I'm going to be a father." The whisper was almost silent, meant for her ears only.

"You'll do wonderful, sweetheart." Her pet name for him made his cheeks turn bright red. Immediately he ducked to hide his face against her stomach. Her arms circled him and held him close, lightly scratching at the hairs along the nape of his neck.

After a moment he glanced up at her. His heart swelled, bubbling in his chest in a way he couldn't describe. Never before had he felt so strongly, so intensely. Rough hands reached for her own again, intertwining their fingers as they did so often before.

"I love you." The words poured from his mouth before realizing it. "Marry me."

Bonus:

"That scent, she's pregnant." If there was anyone that could recognize the scent of a pregnant woman, it was Tanjirou. After all he had spent most of his childhood with his mother pregnant.

"Tanjirou! We're going to be uncles!" Murata began to sob on Tanjirou, happy tears running down his face like a waterfall. "Oh my God, we're going to have a baby at the estate!"

Tanjirou laughed to himself as he watched the soon to be parents in the distance. Other than the scent of pregnancy he could smell their happiness. A couple of people, so defeated by the world, could find happiness together.

If that wasn't poetic, he didn't know what was.

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