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#but this one woke me up so suddenly and quickly i'm still reeling

photogirl894 · 12 days

Note

Congrats on the 1,300 followers! You deserve it and I love your work! MerMay is coming up, so I wanted to request 20 & 23 from the fluff prompts with a Merman! Hunter x Human reader if possible.

Thanks, anon!! Sorry it's taken me a while to get to this! But I figured I'd better get the MerMay request out before May is over 😅

"Sea Star"

20. “Will I see you again?”/”Would you like to?”

23. “I missed you.”/”I missed you more.”

Pairing: Merman Hunter x fem reader

***

The tumultuous ocean waves in the middle of the storm tossed you to and fro in your fishing vessel. You thought you would get to Pabu back in time before the storm, but one of the bigger fish you'd caught had taken longer to reel in due to its size and strength. Shep had warned you that maybe going out today wouldn't be the best idea, but you'd assured him you'd be fine.

If only you'd listened to him.

You were holding on as best you could, but the waves crashing into the sides of your skiff was making it harder and harder for you to keep a good grip. The thunder rumbled in your ears, the lightning temporarily blinded you with every strike and the pouring rain made everything you touched slippery. Finally, you lost your hold on the mast and were thrown into the unforgiving, icy tempest. The force of the waves prevented you from breaching the surface for air and you could feel your breath beginning to run out.

This was going to be the end, you just knew it.

Suddenly, what felt like an arm wrapped around your waist and you found yourself being pulled up towards the surface at a fast pace. You broke through the water and gasped loudly and deeply for air, letting it fill your lungs all the way up, having nearly lost it all.

An unfamiliar, masculine voice spoke loudly in your ear over the sounds of the storm as you felt yourself continue to move forward, "Hold on. I've got you."

You had barely registered the voice before you felt yourself slip into the darkness of unconsciousness.

When you woke up, you saw it was still dark out, but the storm had subsided. You recognized the slightly abrasive feeling of sand underneath you and realized you were back on the beach, specifically in front of the lower cavern beneath Pabu. You sat up, dazed still from everything that had happened, and gasped at seeing another figure leaning next to you.

What mostly startled you was the fact that the unknown person was a man with a crimson fish's tail...a merman.

He had long, dark hair that fell to his shoulders and coral-like tattoos running down his torso. His skin was a bit darker than yours, his human half was toned and muscular and his eyes were a lovely shade of brown. He was very handsome to look upon and he was looking at you with both concern and wonder in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

It was the same voice you'd heard before you passed out. Now, everything that happened made sense. "You...you were the one who saved me," you stated aloud.

He bowed his head in response. "I had spotted your boat and kept a close eye when I knew the storm was coming. I wanted to be sure you were safe."

You sat up all the way, taking in a deep breath. "Thank you," you gasped out. "I would've drowned had you not been there."

"It was no trouble. I'm glad I was nearby," he replied.

"What's your name?" you asked him.

"Hunter," he responded.

You gave him your name in return and he smiled warmly upon hearing it. Then he spoke, "Now that I know you're all right and you're safe, I must return to the sea and you should get home." Then he quickly pushed off the sand and leapt towards the water.

"Wait!" you cried out just before he dove beneath the water. However, his head re-emerged, looking back at you. You didn't want him to go; you didn't want things to end there. Then you asked him, "Will I see you again?"

He smiled again at you. "Would you like to?" he inquired back.

With a nod, you responded, "Very much."

He bowed his head again and said, "Then meet me here tomorrow night." Then he flipped back, his red merman tail breaching the water briefly, and disappeared into the sea.

***

A few months passed and you'd had multiple secret rendezvous' with Hunter over that time. You both were fascinated by each other; he shared many things about mermaid culture and you shared much with him about human culture there on Pabu. You both began as friends wanting to learn more about each other and your people, but as time progressed, you found yourselves slowly falling for each other, which was dangerous considering you both could never truly be together. Not when you lived on the land and he lived in the sea. That didn't seem to stop the feelings from catching, anyway. He had even started calling you his "sea star", which you thought was incredibly sweet and endearing. Not to mention it made your heart flutter every time he said it.

You sat on one of the rocks on the beach, staring at the glittering ocean in the moonlight, and clutched at the seashell necklace he had given you several weeks ago when he'd told you it would be a while until he could see you again. There was discourse going on in his home under the sea that he had to help deal with, but he wanted to give you something to remember him by during his absence. You were missing him terribly, not realizing just how much you'd gotten used to him being part of your nightly routine. He meant a lot to you and him being gone for so long really made you recognize how much you cared for him and wanted him in your life. Even though it would be difficult for you to be together, you still wanted him to be a part of your life. That's what mattered to you.

"I wondered if I'd still find you here after all this time."

His voice breaking the still silence made you jump slightly, but when you looked down and saw his head bobbing above the water, you couldn't contain your joy at his return. You jumped into the water and threw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as he hugged you around your waist and held you up.

"Hunter, I missed you!" you exclaimed.

"I missed you more, my sea star," he replied to you, his arms tightening around you. "There's something I need to tell you."

Pulling back to look at him, you asked, "What is it?"

"I don't want to be away from you a moment longer and I realize now that I can't live without you," he spoke almost urgently, as if not saying the words would cause him to burst. "I never intended to fall in love with you, but it turns out, I have and I was hopeless to resist. You really are my star of the sea and the only one my heart desires. I know it would be impossible for us to be truly be together, but I will take whatever I can get as long as I can keep you in my life."

You were speechless for a moment, astonished by his outpouring of love and devotion to you. Once you collected your thoughts, all you could think to do was crush your lips against his, silently conveying everything you had been feeling for him in return. It only took him seconds for him to return the kiss and deepen it, his arms nearly folding you into him.

"I have fallen madly in love with you, too, Hunter," you revealed once you broke the kiss, "and I don't care what we have to do. I just want to be with you, no matter what. Whatever it takes. I love you, now and always."

Right then and there, the merman kissed his sea star once more, vowing that even though he came from the sea and you from the land, nothing would ever keep you two apart.

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#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #my sergeant #bad batch prompts #hunter x reader #photogirl894 1300 followers

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joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

What’s Your Favorite Color?

Chapter Seven of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Summary: reader is stuck on the Crest with Mando and the kid. what should be an uneventful trip turns into something that changes everyone on board.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, praise kink(?), aftercare, depictions of death, mentions of mental illness (even though the reader doesn’t explicitly say it--it’s more implied), slight spit play?

A/N: ok so this might be the dirtiest thing I've written but I'm just so proud of where this story is going and I hope you guys enjoy. also, the entire chapter takes place on the crest, and it’s one day :)

also big shoutout to @eznova who helped me with this chapter. LOVE U

I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.

That eerie reminder echoes over and over in your mind as you wake up from one of the best nights of your life. It’s hard to control the stupid, shit-eating grin plastered on your face as you lie in Mando’s cot. You’re alone, but his scent—a delicious mix of soap and musk, fill your nostrils and if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can imagine him laying right next to you, wrapping strong, tree trunk sizes arms around you and placing chaste kisses all over your skin.

You couldn’t have planned falling for Mando so deeply and so quickly as you have, mainly considering that you haven’t known each other for very long, but you know damn well that if given the opportunity, you’d do everything over again.

Stars, you don’t even know what his name is.

What is his first name?

Should you ask him? You don’t want to come off imposing, and there’s a part of you that wants to wait until he chooses to share that information with you, rather than try to wrestle it out of him, but he’s shrouded in mystery, and that just reels you in even more. You really want to pick his brain, figure out what makes him him, but you don’t know if you’ll ever get that chance. There’s the possibility though, that after last night, he’ll be more vulnerable around you. Maybe you’ll both be more vulnerable and inclined to share each other’s pasts. After all, you’ve been pretty intimate with each other.

When you finally decide it’s probably time for you to get out of bed and face the potential awkwardness that could happen between you and Mando, the door to the cubby hole hisses open, with neither the kid nor Mando in sight. Your feet touch down on the cold ship’s floor, and you slip into your boots. Once on your feet, you feel an ache at the apex of your thighs. It stings and you have to basically have to walk with your thighs spread apart in order to ease some of the uncomfortableness between your legs. Every move you make is a reminder of the night before. You can even feel him inside you, stretching your walls to hug him perfectly. Kriff, you’re already wet and you only just woke up.

Hoping a sanisteam will wipe away the crude thoughts from your barely conscious mind, you take to the fresher and wake yourself up with a brisk rinse. Once you’re out and throw on yesterday clothes—you make a mental note to wash your only other garments, you’re about to head up to the cockpit when you hear Mando’s voice. Stopping at the ladder, you listen in on what he’s saying.

“…but you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” His’s voice goes quiet for a moment. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too…powerful. Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

It’s a damn shame how last night you had heard his true voice for the first time, unmodulated but still as deep and rough as it sounds with the distortion of his helmet, and probably won’t be privy to it for a while. You wish you could hear him, like really hear him, naked and untapped again but even if you don’t, it’ll just make last night even more significant.

You hear the Child coo in response before hearing Mando’s cadence again. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do.” There’s a brief pause. “You understand that, right?”

For the first time, you detect some sadness in Mando’s tone. Like he’s trying to reassure not only the kid but also himself that he needs to go through with this, that even though there might be a part of him that doesn’t want to let the Child go, in the end he has no choice in the matter. It tugs at your heartstrings. The Mandalorian, a seasoned warrior, a survivor, a bounty hunter—at war with himself and his own feelings.

You can’t help but feel guilty as well. Ahsoka had warned you that one day, you too would have to make a choice but after last night… It’s no longer as clear-cut as you initially thought it would be. Had this come to you even just six months ago, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. You’d make the choice of being a Jedi, and forgo all attachments and dedicate your life to the Order. It wouldn’t be hard for you to set all your feelings aside—you’ve had many years of practice on that subject, but now things are completely upside down. It’s territory you’ve never been in before and Maker, that terrifies you. The longer you journey with the Mandalorian, the more you become weaved together like vines wrapping themselves around a duracrete structure. Similar to the ancient temples on Naboo, tightening and gripping in every nook and cranny until it’s impossible to separate one without destroying the other.

When you reach the floor of the cockpit, you watch Mando sit ever still in the pilot’s chair, with Grogu seated to his right. Your boots hitting the ground as you walk alerts the Child, his ears twitching in your direction and he giggles excitedly, holding that little durasteel ball in his hands.

“Morning,” you announce as you plop down in the seat to Mando’s left. Grogu peers at you with big eyes and makes grabby hands at you, so lean over and bring him into your lap.

“How long until we reach Coruscant?”

“A day or two,” he answers curtly, keeping his visor glued to the blues of hyperspace through the transparisteel.

“Oh, okay. Looks like we’ll have time to kill then.”

Mando rises from his seat, turns his body to you for just a moment before announcing his leave. “Does your blaster need cleaning?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He offers you a quick dip of the helmet before leaving the cockpit in one swift movement and heading down the ladder. Your eyebrows pull together as you stare at the empty doorway to the little room you and the Child are still seated in. Looking down at him, you whisper, “Why do I get the feeling he’s avoiding me?”

Grogu bats his eyes at you before gently sucking on the ball still firmly gripped in his claws. It’ll always amaze you how attached he is to that sphere. You might never know why it’s so important to him but then again, you suppose that it’s a secret between him and his caregiver.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind of his,” you confess—not necessarily to Grogu, but since he’s the only one around, you feel almost compelled to spew your concerns and confusions about everything that’s happened.

“What do we do, little guy? I suppose since you’ve had training, you’ll probably want to be found by a Jedi, right?”

Grogu mumbles something at you and for just a second, you think he might understand you.

“And you’re okay with leaving him?”

He coos almost sadly, and you can hear your heart shattering. This little creature has grown such an attachment to Mando. It’s exactly what Ahsoka said—Mando’s basically his father and truthfully, if your parents were still alive, you couldn’t imagine leaving them to join a group that shuns on attachments. It would take a strength that you couldn’t muster to pull yourself away from them, not after knowing the kind of pain of having to live without them.

“I’m scared, Grogu. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really paying attention, too busy staring at the little ball in his hands. It’s okay, though. It’s enough just for you to express your concerns aloud. Your mind can get cluttered if you think about everything all at once. The moments you convey your thoughts verbally, it forces you to focus on what you’re actually saying, rather than all the hypotheticals that bounce around in your head.

“Should I go down there?”

Again, Grogu says nothing, he doesn’t even look up at you. Eyeing where Mando sat just minutes ago, you feel like a teenager. You’re both adults, you can’t just tiptoe around each other, it’s not like there are many places to hide on the Crest, anyway. If he won’t come to you, you’ll just have to go to him.

Holding Grogu close to your chest, you take to the ladder and head down, being mindful not to accidentally hit his head on the rungs. Just as you reach the hull, you notice Mando facing one of the crates, his blaster completely taken apart, wiping the coil with a dirty rag. Placing Grogu in the bunk to your left, you lean on another crate and watch Mando dissect his weapon and clean every little bit of residue off his gun.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mando asks, back still turned to you.

“It’s fine, kinda aches a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answer, transfixed at the way Mando meticulously cleans his weapons. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat. The sound reminds you of the mind-altering grunts he made the night before when he was balls deep inside you, causing you to rub your thighs together at the memory. That sanisteam was supposed to get of these filthy thoughts.

It becomes suddenly very awkward in the hull and you get the feeling that you might be lingering. He clears his throat a few times but says nothing. There may not come another time where you could try to learn more about Mando, so now seems like right time. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you muster up the strength to finally ask him, “You were born on Mandalore?” Keeping your eyes down, staring at your feet because you just don’t have the nerve to look at him.

“No, Aq Vetina.”

“Oh… I thought—”

“I was a foundling.”

“Like Grogu.”

“Yes,” he answers deep in his throat.

It suddenly makes sense why Mando saved him from the Empire, and why Grogu’s still in his care. He sees himself in the Child. He sees the vulnerability, the childlike innocence and he understands that he is responsible for this little baby, at least until you find a Jedi that is.

“Do all Mandalorians hide their faces?” You ask curiously.

There’s not much that you know about Mandalorians. The few things you do know about them is that they’re almost impossible to find due to the Empire nearly wiping them all out, and that they’re some of the best—if not the best warriors in the galaxy. Given the fact that Mando hasn’t removed his helmet once since you’ve been around (until last night), you can assume he take his Creed very seriously, and can’t help but wonder if the Child has been fortunate to catching a glimpse of his face.

“No,” he answers methodically.

Already feeling like you’re pushing the limits of how many questions you can ask before he finally decides to shut you down and stops being so forthcoming, the genuine curiosity is sadly too strong for you to pull back. It’s not like you’ve ever had this much time around someone so secretive and mysterious as Mando, and there’s just too many pieces to this puzzle that you want to so desperately put together.

“So, why do you do it?”

“This is the—” he begins, but a chuff of air slips through your lips before he can finish speaking. “What?” He asks annoyingly, turning his body around to face you.

“I don’t know…” Your hands motion around you in an effort to find the right words. “I mean you did take off your helmet in front of me last night.”

“I did.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“So, is the rule that you can’t take off the helmet or that you can’t show your face? Because there is a difference between the two.”

This must catch him off guard because Mando stays silent for a ridiculously long time. The two possibilities are that he’s considering what you’re saying—which you’re beginning to doubt, or he thinks you’re totally out of line and is choosing to ignore you. You have this bad habit of being pretty blunt and somewhat insensitive with the way you express yourself and that’s caused you some issues with others in the past, but it’s always gotten the results you wanted. Honestly, someone like Mando will probably have tough skin, so you’re pretty sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.

“When did this become an interrogation about what I choose and choose not to do?” He grumbles, resting his hands on his utility belt.

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re choosing…” you mumble under your breath, kicking the ground and keeping your eyes to the floor.

“What did you say?” He asks defensively, squaring his shoulders and then taking a step forward. Out of habit, you lean back further against the crate.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” you clarify, using the bottom of your foot to kick off the crate, and straightening your back. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re kinda stuck with each other for who knows how long, so we should take this time to get to know each other, don’t you think?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you rest your hands on your hips, waiting for him to either deflect or finally let his guard down and talk like two normal adults.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Your jaw literally drops, completely dumbfounded. It during moments like this that you so desperately wish you could see what his facial expression is. Why does he continuously try to keep a distance between himself and every living thing in the galaxy? Is he scared of being vulnerable around someone else? That his reputation as a hardened Mandalorian warrior would be compromised if he so much as shared a tiny bit of information with you? Does he think a Mandalorian would come and strike him down for having his own opinion about his Creed? That questioning the only thing he knew since he was a child would be considered sacrilegious?

It’s pretty silly how worked up you’re getting right now, but the way Mando dismisses you, it stirs up that anger inside you that is so hard to control. He’s always pushing your buttons, just as you push his—only this time, you simply wanted to know a little more about him. Is that too much to ask for?

Do you continue to press him?

Do you let it go?

Announcing your defeat by drawling out a sigh, your hands drop to your sides, looking down at the ground because you can’t be bothered to look at him in the visor anymore. “All right, well I’m going to head up to the cockpit and um…” You try to come up with a quick excuse to leave the room as it’s becoming more and more awkward with each passing second, but unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You result to turning on your heel and climbing up the ladder without another word, not bothering to wait and see if Mando comes up with something to say before you disappear.

Once you reach the doorway, the blues of hyperspace nearly blind you, and your hand comes up to give shade to your eyes as they adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You’ll need to find something to keep your mind occupied until you enter Coruscant airspace, because you’ll quite frankly drive yourself insane not doing anything, so you walk over to the control panel in front of Mando’s chair and begin running some diagnostics to see at what capacity the hyperdrive is operating at, see if there’s any leakage that you could fix inside the ship and any little thing that might need some maintenance. After running a few tests, you realize that unfortunately, Peli had fixed pretty much every little issue with the ship, so there really is nothing to fix in order to keep yourself busy.

Fuck.

Feeling defeated, you fall back onto your bum and sit on the cold floor, back leaning against one of the walls, resting your right arm on one of the passenger seats. You’ve always hated silence. With nothing to distract yourself with, your mind always ends up wandering, overanalyzing every little minute detail of your life, meticulously going over each moment in time and thinking of all the ways you could have done something different, how the choices you made were wrong, how things would be better off if you did x instead of y. It gnaws at you, until the only thing you feel like you can do to stop the voices inside your mind is to scream and lash out, causing pain to yourself and everyone around you.

Is this the work of the Dark Side or is it just your unstable mind?

Is it both—working together and tearing you apart from the inside out? Slowly picking your brain apart, section by section, nerve ending by nerve ending until all that’s left of you is the worthlessness of your existence, a make-up of atoms and tissue that can’t be controlled or understood?

Stars, you’re doing it again.

You can feel your mind retreating deeper and deeper into itself, wanting to disappear from all of this. Making yourself as small as you can, you pull your knees close to your chest, head dropping down between them while your palms rub the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and clenching so hard you think you might end up ripping some right out of your head.

The harder you pull, the more anxious you become. Heartrate picking up steadily and the lump in your throat growing in size, it’s as if the space around you is screaming, that everything is spinning, which could explain all this anxiety you suddenly feel when in reality, it’s all just in your head. The cockpit is dead silent, there isn’t even the slightest sound coming from down in the hull. Everything is deafeningly still and yet you feel it’s all too loud, and you just want to scream. Scream until you feel your vocal cords explode or until there’s no air left in your lungs. Your body no longer feels like it’s yours, and instead it’s as if you’re just living inside of it, watching everything happen around you but not having any actual control over it.

Fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuck fuck

Being so wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t even hear Mando coming up the ladder. You don’t hear his heavy boots clanking against durasteel. You don’t even hear him speaking to you. All you feel is a presence and when you finally lull your head back and peek through heavy lids, you see Mando—on his fucking knees, trying to comfort you. One of his hands hovering over your figure like he’s not sure whether to touch you or not.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks as softly as he possibly can. It comes out smooth like honey but still sitting at a low register through his helmet.

“I’m fine,” you answer curtly, no longer feeling particularly chatty.

He sighs deep in his throat, and you can tell he wants to ask you again, maybe hoping he’ll get the truth this time, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a step back and sits down on the chair opposite the one you’re closest to and stays as silent as a statue. While normally you appreciate the company, right now you want to be left alone, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave. So, you stay where you are, both acting like the other isn’t there.

As time ebbs on, your breathing has slows down. Mando being there—despite not saying anything, has you distracted. Your mind’s starting to settle on what’s going on at the present time, rather than all the thoughts that clawed at you just minutes ago. Without even realizing it, he’s helped you significantly.

“How old are you?”

Taken aback by his sudden engagement in conversation, you lean into the wall behind you and feel your shoulders touch the cold durasteel.

“Sorry?” you ask, pulling your eyebrows closely together. This might be the first time he’s ever asked you something personal. When Mando asks a question, it’s usually because he’s searching for clarification, not because he’s genuinely curious.

“How old are you?” He repeats.

You tell him your age and he hums in his throat.

“What about you?”

Something like a chuckle emits from his helmet before answering. “Older than you.”

That’s as close to an actual answer as you’ll get from him.

Okay, since you’re back to asking trivial questions about each other, “Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Fun?” He echoes.

“Yeah. Like, what do you do for enjoyment?”

He stays silent for much longer than you expected. Maker, does he not know how to have fun? Maybe it’s the way you worded the question?

“What brings you pleasure?”

His head turns to you and cocks ever so slowly to the side. It’s impossible to hide the annoyance on your face. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest, a chuff of air releases from your nostrils.

“Forget it.”

“I…don’t know,” he answers somewhat defeatedly. The idea that Mando doesn’t know what having fun is comes as quite a shock to you. Even though you didn’t have much knowledge on Mandalorians, you didn’t expect that they were unable to have fun.

“Okay, forget that question. What’s your favorite color?”

“Who has a favorite color?”

“People, Mando. People have favorite colors.”

“I don’t.” Letting out a gentle laugh, you use the palms of your hands to push against the floor and rise off the ground, slipping into the chair you were leaning on previously. Turning your body in the direction of the Mandalorian sitting across from you, you sit cross legged.

“There isn’t a color that you gravitate towards? One you look at and think, ‘I like that’?”

“I suppose I never thought of it.”

He’s been missing out on so much. How he’s been going through life without having these mundane preferences or opinions on things is…almost unfathomable. Every person you’ve ever met has had these frivolous details that made them different, giving you an insight into their personalities but Mando has no preference on anything. He just…exists.

“I’m assuming you have one?” he asks through the modulator.

“Yellow,” you begin to say. “But not a flashy kind of yellow, more like a dusty, pale yellow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is that your favorite color?”

“I don’t know, Mando,” you answer with a smile on your face. “I just like how it looks. It’s warm and inviting.”

“Hmmm.”

“I guess… It reminds me of the sun. Back home, the sun would shine so bright, and it was so big. I used to stare at it even though my mother warned me not do that.”

He doesn’t say anything more but given that this might be the longest casual conversation you two have ever had, it’s quite the improvement from just saying a couple words to each other.

“Why do you always wear your armor?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We’re in hyperspace right now and you’re geared up for battle. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable always wearing your armor? Isn’t it heavy?”

“It is heavy.”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together, your lips press into a thin line, unamused by Mando dancing around your question.

“Are… Are you not even allowed to at least take off your armor in front of another person?”

“I never thought about it. I’m usually alone so it makes sense to keep it on; in case.”

“In case what? We’re not going to get attacked in hyperspace.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Seriously, Mando. You need to loosen up a bit.”

“I do not need to ‘loosen up’. I’m fine,” he says, a hint of derision in his voice.

“Says the guy in full body armor all the time.”

“It’s practical.”

“Oh, it’s practical,” you mock, a grin creeping up on your lips.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re fucking someone?” You remark, eyebrow raised.

The visor burns into you. He’s definitely caught off guard by your brass question. Your lips curl into a sly smile, your tongue darting across your bottom lip.

“No one’s complained about it.”

Oh.

It’s kind of silly how angry that statement makes you. Okay, not necessarily angry but it definitely stirs something deep inside you. It’s clear by the way he fucked you last night that you weren’t his first—he’s obviously experienced in that area. However, you can’t help the way your jaw clenches at the thought of someone else crying out his name while he fucks them senseless.

You’re mine.

Thighs rubbing together as you remember Mando’s confession from last night, it’s quickly replaced by the thought of him saying that to someone else. Has he said that to anyone else? Are you reading into this too much? What if the only reason he said it was because it was in the heat of the moment? People say things during intimacy that they don’t necessarily mean… You’re definitely overthinking things, right?

“What are you thinking?” He beckons, voice hitting that part inside of you that nearly has you fucking moaning on the spot. How can a voice be so intoxicating? It’s not even his true voice, it’s distorted and cuts up like static but it has you nearly soaked in your seat.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

He doesn’t.

“You’re quiet and from what I can tell, your heat signature’s gone up.”

Your what? “My heat sig—? No, your helmet must be malfunctioning.”

“Oh,” he rises from his seat slowly, squaring his shoulders as he does but doesn’t take a step towards you. He stays painstaking still, visor never once breaking away from you. “Is that right?”

Stars. Your heartbeat is picking up, palms starting to sweat, and your throat is beginning to close up. Your eyes maintain their gaze, trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. It’s childish, really—always attempting to have even the slightest amount of authority over whatever situation you’re put in with Mando because you never actually have any control. He may fool you into thinking you do, but at the end of the day, Mando is always the one in control.

“Your heat signature is burning up, pretty girl,” he taunts.

Kriff, this is not going the way you want it to go. You can’t be the only one looking foolish right now. If he wants to play the game, you can play it too, and you’ll make damn sure you play it better.

Looking him up and down trying to pinpoint any indication that he may not be as calm and collected as he’s playing off, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants. As your vision pierces into him, you notice him shift his weight slightly, his hands balled tightly into fists by his sides.

“Why so tense, Mando?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh,” you echo his words from just minutes ago. Slowly slipping out of the chair, you stand to face him, squaring your shoulders. Pleasure heats up deep in your stomach, travelling down to the apex of your thighs, reminding you of how sore you actually are. “Is that right?”

“Stop that,” he warns. You got him.

“Not doing anything,” your voice sounding as innocent as you can while your eyes convey the opposite. You want him to know that you won’t give in so easily.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Do—” he starts but quickly composes himself. Craning his neck, his next words drip out of him slowly. “Drive me crazy.”

“Any of your other friends ever drive you crazy?”

Okay, that was a low blow, but you can’t shake the thought from your mind. For Maker’s sake, you’re an adult. Obviously he’s had lovers before, why is this so hard for you to accept? It’s not like you guys are together, you’re simply stuck with each other for the time being. Not only that, but you’ve had your fair share of men. He doesn’t seem to be jealous about that.

I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you.

“Mmm, are you… jealous?”

“Maker, no.” Lie.

“Then why are your cheeks red?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkfuck

Why does your face always have to give you away? You can play sabacc with the best deadpan expression in the galaxy, but right now you can’t even hide your resentment. How is Mando able to get under your skin and expose your every emotion, every thought? He pulls it out of you and basically presents it to you on a fucking platter.

“Because you annoy the shit out of me.”

“Your body is telling me otherwise.”

“Stop cheating! I can’t read your body heat, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to play fair.”

All right, if this is how he wants to play, you’ll just have to be bolder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through parted lips, your left foot moves forward, taking one big stride towards Mando, stopping just inches from his breastplate. You can practically feel his own heat vibrating off of him. His fists tighten even more, and you swear you can hear his breathing quicken, cutting up in the helmet.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Mando.”

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Stars, the air is getting thick, you’re all but drunk on this feeling. Your undergarments are stuck to your pussy, drenched with slick, waiting for someone to make the first move. The blood is pounding in your ears, but you try to maintain the best stony stare you can muster. This is a fight you’re not willing to lose. You bite down on your bottom lip, staring into the ‘T’ of his helmet through hooded lids. His chest pushes out slightly and his head angles to the side, just enough for you to see the underneath of his jaw. There’s some stubble poking out from the bottom of his helmet, and you lick your lips at the sight. Wanting to put your lips to his jawline and trail wet kisses along it, gently sucking at his skin. Maker, you might end up losing this if you don’t compose yourself.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice hoarse and low.

“For you to lose,” your answer is honest. You want him to break down and give in, just to give you the slightest bit of power.

Mando lets out this sound, a joyful sound you’ve only heard once or twice before but it nearly throws you for a loop. Hearing him laugh, even if it’s quick and low, fills you up with the greatest amount of delight. To see someone who’s always stoic and serious let out a sound of pure pleasure, it makes up for all the times he purposely chooses to get under your skin. All the moments he infuriates you, it all goes away with the sound of his laugh.

At this moment, you’re grateful that his face is covered because you definitely would have crushed your lips together by now. His helmet actually works to your advantage, holding you back from doing the one thing you would have otherwise done by now.

“I’m not touching you,” he whispers. It sounds less like a statement to you and more like a reminder to himself. He’s fighting his urges just as much as you are, but you will continue to fight this until he breaks, he has to break.

“Then don’t.”

All of sudden, you both hear a disturbance coming from the hull. The kid must be getting into trouble down there.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell him, choosing not to wait for Mando to say anything in return before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit. Fighting the urge to take one last look at him before disappearing down the rungs, you head down to the hull and see Grogu rummaging through the various crates placed around the Crest. Once he sees you, he shows you a big toothy grin and runs straight for you, arms stretched out. You bend down and pick him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Hey, kiddo. What trouble are you getting yourself into down here?”

Grogu babbles something at you and you smile in return. A small grumble, something like an animal growling, comes from the baby’s stomach and his ears droop down.

“Hungry, little guy? Let’s see what we got for you.”

Walking down the hull with the kid in your arms, you stop at the small closest Mando keeps his ration packs. There aren’t many packs left, just enough to hold all three of you down until you land on Coruscant. After that, you’ll need to buy some more packs. Grabbing one of the packages and a bowl from one of the shelves, you prop the kid on one of the smaller crates and begin emptying the contents of the pack in the durasteel dish.

It’s a dark green looking blob. Quite frankly, you hate ration packs. They always look like food that’s been mashed together into a jelly bar and even despite the fact that once you add water to it so that it actually looks like food, just the sight of it in its raw form is enough to ruin your appetite. The kid doesn’t care about all that though; he’d eat anything you give him. Back on Sorgan, you had seen him eat a frog whole—just swallowed it without even a second thought. It was impressive and yet totally gross at the same time.

Leaving him on the box momentarily, you walk over to the sink in the privy and let a few droplets of water touch the blob in the bowl. Within seconds, the bar transforms into a small bread roll. It’ll hopefully be enough to tie him down for a few hours.

Passing by the ladder, you call out to Mando. “Hey, I’m about to feed the kid. Do you want to come down for a meal?”

“Not hungry. Thank you,” you hear him answer. He never eats with you two. Given that he needs to take off his helmet in order to feed himself, he chooses to wait until you’re both asleep or nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop you from asking each time. Part of it is so that he feels included but mostly you hope that one day he’ll choose to sit with you both. One day, you think to yourself.

When you hand the bowl over to Grogu gently, he takes it with both hands and begins eating the bread like it’s the first meal he’s ever had. Your brows pull tightly together as you watch him devour his food. For such a small creature, he sure eats like a bantha. He could probably eat for a whole day without stopping to catch his breath.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how strong this little guy is. He’s so tiny and somehow, he possesses a power stronger than you could ever really understand. This is the same kid that saved Mando’s life from a mudhorn. This is the kid that swallowed a whole frog that was half his size. A child this small is somehow a Jedi.

Once he’s done eating, he peers up at you with big, black eyes and coos at you.

“Nah, I’m not hungry right now, kid,” you answer as if you understand what he’s saying to you. Then again…maybe you can understand him.

Ahsoka said she and Grogu could feel each other’s thoughts. You should be able to do the same, right? Granted you have no training in the matter, but you were able to communicate with him once, surely you could do it again.

Your hand reaches out to him and you hook a finger around his hand. He grips around your index and squeezes you tenderly. Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what he could be thinking, what he might be trying to tell you. At first, you don’t hear or see anything—just darkness. A part of you wants to give up, nothing that it was worth a shot anyway, but you choose to press on. Focusing hard on Grogu, you relax the tension in your shoulders and take a deep breath, exhaling through your lips.

By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind…

A woman’s voice fills your mind, but you can’t make out any of her features. Focus, you tell yourself.

You are as its father.

A Mandalorian. She looks different than Mando. Her helmet looks to be made of gold, with horns erecting from the very top. Her armor appeared to be different as well. Unlike Mando’s shiny, chrome beskar, her cuirass is a reddish brown and instead of a cape, she wears a fur coat on her back. Immediately, you got the impression she’s a warrior of her own nature, just as cunning as Mando, but in a swifter, more agile way, unlike Mando’s brash style of battle.

Just as the moment appeared, it vanished, filling your mind with images of sand dunes. Suddenly, you’re back in Mos Eisley. Only this time, you’re much younger, playing on the outskirts of the city with Tye.

“Tye, I’m tired,” you whine out to him. He’s running around the sand, punting a ball at you and then taking it away when you opt not to kick it back to him.

“Oh come on, we have to head back soon anyway. Just a little bit longer.”

It’s hard to hide your disappointment. Really, you just want to be inside. Today is such a blazingly hot day, and water is at its peak in scarcity. Most folks will be inside all day, avoiding the scorching heat. Less time outdoors means less water consumed, but Tye never listens to what he’s told. He does whatever he wants and drags you along with him and unfortunately, you have a hard time saying no to him, so you’re almost always roped into his shenanigans.

“Tyyyyyyye,” you drawl out. “I want to go inside! It’s too hot!”

Just as you say that a giant spacecraft enters the atmosphere, covering the entire surrounding area in shadows. You look up at the giant structure in awe. You’ve never seen a spacecraft so grand before, jaw dropping as you watch two smaller vessels appear from the hovering fortress above your heads. They drop down a little less than a click away. By now, Tye is at your side, both of you watching men in white uniforms exit the ships, charging towards your direction. An immediate fear washes over you, grabbing Tye’s wrist and running to hide behind a nearby moisture vaporator. Your heart is racing, and you feel Tye’s own panic coursing through your veins.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He whispers, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I don’t know…”

The men pass you by, not even taking a second to look around them. Their heads stay glued to what’s in front of them, hands gripping onto giant guns you’ve never seen before. Just as fast as they came, they disappear into the city. Screams and shrieks suddenly break out. People scatter, running out of the city walls in mass hysteria. Your legs itch to run, to find your parents, but Tye senses your urgency and grabs your forearm.

“We have to stay.”

“But—”

He whispers your name. “We don’t know who those people are. We’re safer here.”

Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the screams of the villagers echo through the city walls, causing you to wince. Tye wraps his arms around you, and you embrace each other, weeping silently in each other’s arms, praying to the Maker that these soldiers leave. The sound of Tye repeating, “It’s okay. We’re okay,” echoing in your mind.

It’s only when the sun begins to set that the town becomes quiet. The spacecrafts are gone, leaving no trace that they were even here. Your eyes are swollen from the tears, and you feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Body still shaking, burning off adrenaline and fear. Standing up is difficult, your knees are buckling but the need to see your parents is stronger than the quaking of your legs. You wake Tye up by shaking his shoulder gently.

“They’re gone. We have to head back.”

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. At first it doesn’t seem like he fully understands you, but when he looks up and doesn’t see the ship from before, he all but jumps up, dusting the sand off his clothes and charging right into the city.

“Tye! Wait up!” You shout after him, but he doesn’t relent. Taking large strides, you attempt to catch up with him, running past weeping elders, hysterical children, and what appears to be dead bodies all around you. Your mind doesn’t allow you to process what you’re seeing, you’re just too focused on catching up with Tye and then finding your parents.

His name being called in the distance stops him dead in his tracks.

“Mama! Papa!” He cries out, pivoting around in hopes to see someone he knows. When you finally manage to catch up to him, his mother appears from the shadows, tears streaming down her face. From the faint streetlights, her cheeks are dark red, and her eyes are just as swollen as you assume yours are.

“Sweetheart!” She shouts as she races to you both, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you until the air is all but knocked out of your lungs. It hurts, but you hold on to her anyway, feeling her warm, motherly touch.

“Where’s Papa?” He asks in the crook of his mother’s neck. Tye’s voice is hoarse from crying and yelling, and she attempts to soothe him by gently shushing him.

“It’s okay, son. We’re okay.”

“I have to get home,” you say, pulling away from her grip.

“Honey…”

The look on her face… you’ll never forget it. Tears welling up in her eyes, her jaw slacking because she wants to say something but not knowing how to say it. The pain you see in her green eyes, it’s like she’s just watched a loved one die right in front of her. Fear and anguish hit you in waves, crashing down on you more aggressively with every second that goes by.

“No…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a step away from her, her arm reaches out to you.

“Sweetie…” she tries again.

Shaking your head in panic, you turn on your heel in one swift movement and disappear down one of the quieter streets and make for your home. As you race in the direction of your dwelling, your heart bangs against your ribcage, tears flying down your cheeks. You can’t even see where you’re going due to the water in your eyes, but you keep trekking on. Nothing’s going to stop you. Throat unbearably tight, you can barely let in little breaths as you turn the corner to where you live.

When you reach the street, you stop so suddenly that you almost tumble down on the ground, somehow managing to catch yourself at the last moment, your breathing ridiculously erratic. There’s a horde of adults crowding the front door to where you live. Your feet carry you to them at a painstakingly slow pace. Blood pounding in your ears, you can barely make out what anyone is saying. When someone finally catches sight of you, they rush towards you, dropping down to their knees to meet your eye level.

“Sweetie, we can’t let you go in there.”

“But t-t-that’s my h-ho-me,” you manage to say through shaky breaths.

“I know, but we ca—”

You push passed them before they can finish speaking and dart passed several other people trying to stop you until you squeeze through the half-open door into your house, pressing a button on the control panel by the doorway. The door hisses shut.

There’s only a bit of light offered inside. To your left, you see the table you’d sit at with your parents for supper. The chairs are tucked neatly under the table. You’re not sure if the banging you hear is from someone outside trying to get in, or if it’s your heart thumping against your chest but it doesn’t deter you from searching for your parents.

As you continue to scan the area, there’s a couple of cups lying around on the counter, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Relief begins to settle in but is rapidly replaced by sheer terror when you finally shift your head to the right. Then, you see them.

Your parents lying face down on the floor.

“No!” You cry out, running to them and dropping to your knees to hover over their bodies.

There’s a blaster sized hole in your father’s back, heat still steaming off his wound. Your screams could be heard from the other end of the city, clutching onto their lifeless bodies as you beg for them to wake up.

“Please, wake up. Mama, Papa. P-please!”

Someone pulls you off of them, wrapping their arms around your torso. Your arms flail around, clawing and scratching at whoever’s holding onto you. “Let me go! My parents! Let me go!” Your voice is shrill and hoarse, becoming more hysterical, but they never let go. Your parents become smaller and smaller as you’re carried away from them. The last thing you remember is seeing the door to your home whoosh shut…

Your body jolts, and you’re not on Tatooine, anymore. You’re on the Razor Crest. Grogu sits just a foot away from you, peering up at your shivering body. Somehow, you exposed a memory you had sworn to never remember. After that day, you locked that memory up in a part of your brain and shut it off, choosing never to think about it again. The pain was too much for you to handle. Instead of facing your pain, you always chose to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist. Once again, compartmentalizing your trauma and locking it away for good.

Grogu fusses and when you look down to him, his eyes begin to flutter. Poor thing gets so sleepy whenever he messes with the Force. You pick him up and hold him close to your chest, making your way to Mando’s bunk. As you pass the ladder, the kid fusses and makes grabby hands for the ladder.

“You want Mando?” You ask him, and Grogu babbles in response.

Climbing the ladder with him in your arms is a bit difficult, but you’re able to get to the top without too much of a struggle.

“He wants to be with you,” you tell him.

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. Extending his arms out to you, you hand Grogu over to him and your hands briefly touch. The brushing of your hands suddenly reminds you of the game you were in the middle of playing just before the kid decided to explore the cargo hold.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Turning on your heel, you head down the ladder quickly. How is it that over the course of just a few hours, you could go through so much emotional turmoil? Honestly, you haven’t even been awake for that long, but you’re already wanting to take a nap.

Fuck it, there’s nothing else to go in this hunk of metal, and Mando’s probably busy with the kid, so you decide to let your body rest. Crawling into the little cubby hole and shutting the door closed, you close your eyes and hope your body will allow you some peace of mind.

You’re reminded of why you hate naps so much when you wake up. Instead of feeling refreshed, you always end up feeling much worse. First off, you always wake up in a cold sweat and feeling super groggy. Quite frankly, it does the exact opposite of what you hoped a nap would do. Secondly? Mando’s cot is unbearably hard. It shouldn’t be considered a bed; it resembles more like duracrete than anything else. As much as you like finally being able to sleep not sitting up in that kriffing passenger chair, this is another struggle of its own.

Pushing the button on the control panel by the door, it opens with a swift motion. The first thing you clock is that the Crest’s lights are almost all out, making it damn near impossible for you to even see your hand in front of your face. How in the hell is Mando able to walk around here not being able to see a single thing? The second thing you notice is the sound of running water. He must be taking a sanisteam.

To think that just on the other side of that wall, he’s naked and wet? If it were anybody else, you’d strip out of your clothes and join them, but things aren’t that simple with Mando. There are boundaries you wouldn’t dare cross unless he gives you his consent. Rather than frustrate you, it entices you even more. It keeps you wanting more and more, especially because he can’t just give you everything you want, whenever you want. No, you have to work for it.

Realizing that now you’re basically just standing outside the fresher like a creep, you head up to the cockpit in search of the kid. Just like you suspected, he’s sound asleep in one of the passengers’ chairs, wrapped up in what looks to be Mando’s cape. The thought of Mando taking off his cape to wrap Grogu up makes you stupidly giddy.

Treading carefully as to not make any noise to wake him up, you tiptoe back to the ladder and shut the cockpit door, your feet barely touching the rungs as you descend back down to the hull.

Something in your stomach growls, and you’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Kriff, has it really been that long since your last meal? You head over to the pantry where the packs are kept, extending your arms out in front of you so you don’t bang into anything on your way there, and grab the first pack your hand touches, not having a preference as to what you’ll be eating today—tonight? You don’t even know what time of the day it is. Time in hyperspace can be difficult to keep track of. The only way you’d know what time it is is if you checked the control panel back up in the cockpit and right now, it’s just not worth the trip.

The pack itself feels sloshy in your hands; it’s probably some kind soup. Reaching into the closet again, your hand searches for a bowl to put your meal in.

Mando will be out of the fresher at any moment now, given that the water’s been turned off for a minute or two. The door to the fresher wooshes open and out of reflex, you shut your eyes but are quickly reminded that the hull is so faintly lit that even with your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see him, but just to be safe, you announce your presence.

“I heard you,” is all you hear back.

“Can you turn the lights on a little bit more? I can barely see a thing and I really don’t feel like dropping my soup all over your ship.”

He doesn’t answer but within seconds the Crest transforms from a dark abyss to a twinkling, starry night. Not unlike the ones you’d spend hours staring at with Tye in the sand dunes during your teenage years.

Your head spins to your left, selfishly hoping to catch a sight of Mando, and Maker do your eyes latch onto him.

He’s not wearing a shirt, first of all. This is the most of his skin that you’ve ever seen before. The warm lights flickering off his back accentuates the curves of his muscles, concaving in certain areas and then protruding in others, outlining every bit of toned tissue. You can vaguely make out a few water droplets trailing down his golden skin, and it’s seriously taking all the self-control you have not to close the gap between you both and lick them off his back. An ache begins to build in the apex of your thighs, and you start to rub your legs together in an effort to alleviate some of the heat stirring inside you. Still wearing the kriffing helmet, though.

The second thing you notice is the vast amount of scarring on his skin. Each scar representing a different battle. You could probably lay him flat on his stomach, and his back would appear like a visual biography of his life, each mark giving you an understanding into his past, and the tests and trials he’s had to overcome over the years.

What were you trying to do, again?

Food.

You need food.

“Do you—” you squeak. Pull yourself together. Clearing your throat in hopes your tone will go back down to its normal octave, you repeat yourself. “Do you want any soup?”

“No t—” he begins to say but you cut him off before he can finish. You knew he’d say he wasn’t hungry.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes stay glued to the bowl in front of you. You’re certain that if you so much as looked at him again, you’d forget about the damned soup and pounce on him like loth cat.

“No.”

“Then you’re eating.”

Taking a second bowl from the shelf, you divide the soup evenly between both cups and begin making your way over to Mando, keeping your head down in the off chance he’s still not wearing a shirt, you don’t want to seem like you’re gawking at him.

“You can look,” he clarifies, noting the way you refuse to look up from ground.

When your eyes finally shift from the ground to look at him, he’s now wearing a black long-sleeved tunic that hugs his figure in ways that should be illegal. Your jaw is practically hanging and swallowing the lump in your throat causes a sound somewhere close to a moan to expel from your mouth, but you’re quick enough to stifle it with a cough.

As you hand him the bowl of soup, you’re feeling incredibly shy for some reason, your hand extending out and trembling as he takes it from you.

“I’ll eat in the cockpit to give you some privacy,” you tell him as you put your hand on the railing.

“No,” he says immediately, grabbing your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay.”

Lips curling upwards into a smile, you end up biting down on your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing and growing as you replay that in your mind.

Stay.

Moving away from the ladder, Mando pulls out one of the smaller crates and seats himself down on it. As you begin to look around for another box you could sit on yourself, he watches you closely.

“You can sit here, if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

Once you’re seated, you begin to take small sips of your soup. Mando reaches over to where his vambrace is—scattered somewhere on another crate and presses a button on it. The Crest’s lights fade even more, leaving you both in almost complete darkness.

A muffled hiss fills the air, and you hear beskar touch the durasteel ground. You eat in silence for a few minutes, hearing only each other’s sips as you continue to fill your bellies with food. It’s incredibly domestic. A Mandalorian and a…well you’re not really sure what you should label yourself as, but you’ll stick with smuggler for now; the two of you eating together like an actual couple—even if that’s far from what your relationship actually is.

“No amour?” You decide to ask, trying to make a bit of small talk in the pitch-black abyss.

“Someone told me I had to ‘loosen up’,” he jests, knocking his elbow against your arm. Maker, you’ll never get tired of hearing that unmodulated voice of his. Something as simple of a voice shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. For a man who kills for a living, he speaks with such a gentle intonation.

It’s such a juxtaposition, really. In full body armor, Mando is definitely one of the most feared hunters in the galaxy. He’ll kill if something threatens his life or the kid’s life. Impossible to read, impossible to predict. But right now? He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. No helmet, no amour. His guard is as down as you’ve ever seen and is willing himself to be naked with you, even if he’s still fully clothed. How you were able to find yourself in this situation is something you might never be able to fully understand, but it is truly the greatest gift you could have ever been given.

“I’m sorry about before,” you whispers, feeling guilty about how you approached the question about his helmet. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about your Creed.”

It’s not fair for you to come down so hard on him. You might not understand why he chooses to live his life with such restrictions, but it really isn’t any of your business.

“It’s fine.”

You still feel angry with yourself for acting the way you did, but if Mando says it’s fine, the last thing you’ll do is continue your self-loathing and make him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Taking the last sip of soup and feeling satisfied with your meal, you push yourself to your feet. “Are you finished?” you ask him.

“Yes, thank you.”

You search aimlessly in the dark for a moment in search of his dish and accidentally knock the bowl right out of his hand, hearing it tumble on the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse, dropping to your knees in search for it. While frantically searching for the dish, you feel his hand caress the small of your back, sending shivers through your spine.

You’re starting to feel pretty flustered, the fact that you’re both in the darkness doesn’t help. There’s no way of anticipating what could happen and that’s exhilarating and unnerving. Of course, you eventually find the bowl and Mando’s hand disappears from your back once you get back on your feet.

Walking over to the pantry where the ration packs are, you place the bowls on the shelf, making a mental reminder to wash them later. Just as you’re about to turn around and head back to where you think Mando is, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Two hands grip onto either side of your hips and he presses his body against yours, pushing you right up against the little closet. A moan escapes your lips without even realizing it, and you can feel his hot breath tickle the crook of your neck.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all fucking day,” he growls in your ear.

Holy Maker, the heat in your stomach is somehow already becoming too much. You’re basically panting, the blood in your ears is almost deafening.

“I’ve been watching the way you’re walking. Did I hurt you? Do you still feel me?”

“Stars,” you breathe out.

Mando presses his lips to your skin, sending shockwaves through your entire core. You can feel his stubble prick your neck and it’s everything you didn’t know you craved. It feels deliciously rough.

Your hands brace themselves against the door, it’s the only way you can keep yourself upright. Knees already buckling, feeling the heat pooling from your cunt and drenching your underwear with slick. One of his hands begin to trail away from your hip and trace the waistband to your trousers. Instead of teasing you though, his hand wastes no time pushing passed your pants and panties, finding his way down to your cunt and cupping it with such force you jerk forwards, groaning as his hand finds your clit.

“Already so wet for me.”

Fingers leaving your bud, he slides them between your folds, gathering your slick on his calloused fingertips and then he’s shoving a thick finger deep inside you. His free hand flies to your throat, applying slight pressure with his thumb and index on that sweet spot underneath your jawline.

“Fuck,” you cry out brokenly. It doesn’t fill you up nearly as much as his cock does, but the way he moves inside of you, hitting that spot inside you no one has ever touched, marking it as his, causes you to see fucking stars.

Mando nips at your neck, alternating between sloppy kisses and bites hard enough to cause bruises, you can already feel an orgasm stirring inside you. You clench around his digit, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

“Are you already close?” He mutters in between kisses and nibbles.

“Shit, fuck I-I think so.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of his soft, damp locks and pulling hard, causing Mando to groan in your ear and buck his hips into yours. You can feel the outline of his rock-hard rock against your ass, and you grind into him, feeling his length burrow between your cheeks. You’re so close to your climax already.

Without missing a beat, he pulls out of you and his hand disappears from between your thighs.

“W-why?”

Grabbing your hips, he flips you around to face him.

“Up,” he instructs.

You linger there for a moment, unsure of what he’s asking you to do. When you don’t move, his hands grab onto your waist and lift you off the ground without so much of a groan. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms cross around the back of his neck, your head leaning on his shoulder. He walks over to the little bunk in the corner of the hull and lowers you onto the mattress gently, being mindful not to hit your head on the small doorway.

Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, the thrill of not being able to see him at all and not having a clue as to what he’ll do next, it’s incredibly sensual. Your legs unwrap themselves from his waist and dangle off the edge of the cot. His hands trail up to the waistband of your pants and tugs them down off your ass. Lifting your hips up to help him, he takes them—along with your underwear, off and you hear them thump to the floor.

Hands returning to your skin, he hooks thems under your calves and lifts them up so your bent at the knees, feet resting on the edge of the bunk.

The anticipation is getting to you. He continues to take his agonizingly sweet time running the tips of fingers on your naked skin, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to form on your skin. Lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulders, he peppers kisses from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh and repeats the same taunt with the other leg. Both of them now resting on his shoulders, he drops to his knees in front of you. Suddenly feeling nervous, you try to close your legs and end up squeezing his head by accident.

“Shit, sorry,” you whisper, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Shhh,” he hushes, placing a large hand on your sternum and pushing you back down on the cot gingerly, and then his lips are on your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites all over your inner thighs, slowly getting closer to your throbbing pussy but never getting close enough to relieve the pressure building.

“Mando, please,” you whimper.

“Do I have to gag you?”

Shit… How is he able to make that sound so fucking hot?

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?” His voice is gentle but commanding.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.”

His tongue glides over your clit and there’s no controlling the moan that rips through you. Pulling away immediately, Mando stands up and presses his body into yours, his mouth merely inches away from yours, his large hand cupping just underneath your jaw.

“What did I say, pretty girl?”

You can feel his hot breath on your lips. If you just moved even the littlest bit forward, your lips would meet his. Licking your lips, you wrench your eyes shut to keep you from closing the gap.

“To be quiet,” you manage to say through ragged breaths.

“So be quiet,” he hisses, feeling his teeth sink into your bottom lip for just a second and then his weight is off you, returning to your thighs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned over his shoulders. Now, he wastes no time lapping you up, flicking your clit with his tongue with such a mind-blowing rhythm you have to throw your arm over your mouth and bite down on your skin to keep from making any noise. Mando never relents, developing the perfect torture. He plays with your bud then practically shoves his entire fucking face in your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you as far as it can go. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble up to the surface, threatening to burst. It’s all too much, your body starts to shake from the sensations.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Dropping your arm to your side, your voice hoarse from stifling all your cries, you’re somehow able to find the strength to say, “I’m gonna come.”

“No,” is all he answers.

No?

“W-w-what?”

“Hold it,” he says hastily, then continues his assault on your pussy.

How in kriffing hell are you supposed to hold it? You’re basically already there and he’s denying you it. You can’t hold on; you can’t stop it.

“I c-can’t,” you confess.

And then he stops. His tongue leaves you, his hands leave your skin, and you’re left there on the bed, legs hanging off the cot, chest heaving from being so fucking close and then being denied at the very last second.

“What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly, a hint of anger but mostly disappointment in your tone.

You hear him make a noise and then something wet trickles down your clit down to your entrance. It’s…sticky and warm. Did he just spit on you?

Lifting your legs back up and letting your feet balance on the very edge of the bunk, his cock rubs against you, angling the tip of himself to slide between your folds, mixing your slick, his spit and precome all over his length and you. Mando continues to tease you, lining himself up with your entrance but never sheathing himself inside you. It’s driving you fucking insane, even angling your hips whenever he does, hoping he’ll lose his self-control and plunge into you, but it only spurs him on. He knows how much it’s annoying you and he’s fucking thriving on it.

“If you don’t start fucking me soon…” you warn.

Mando actually laughs at you, like this is all a big joke to him. Anger begins to mix with your arousal, this is maddening. Why won’t he just fuck you already?

All of a sudden, he slams into you with so much power, you actually slide up the cot, and you wail feeling so fucking full and tight, your cry filling the small space you’re in. You’re still sore from the night before and feeling him stretch your walls again is almost unbearable, but it feels too fucking good. You’ll take every fucking inch of him without a single complaint. Then, just as your pussy begins to acclimate to him, he pulls out, hiking your shirt up just enough for him to grab onto your naked waist and pulling you back down closer to him.

“Mando!”

He leans over you once again, a hand cradles the back of your head while his thumb rubs your cheek tenderly. “If this gets to be too much, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you nod.

“Words.”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Good.”

Thrusting his hips against you, his cock continues to grind along your slit, making you dizzy from both the lack of touch and the taunting of his cock against you.

“Maker, you’re so fucking wet. You sure you didn’t come?”

Words aren’t something you’re capable of forming so you’re stuck resorting to answering him with broken sobs. Practically writhing from all the overstimulation and lack of, from him toying with you, the pressure in your cunt actually fucking hurts, you’re nearly begging for some release. Adding onto the fact that you can’t see a fucking thing, it heightens all your other senses. They compensate for your lack of vision; everything feels so much more intense than you ever could have imagined.

No one could ever drive you to the brink of madness and pull you back in at the last second. No one could possibly make you feel so satisfied yet deprived. You’re convinced you’ve traveled the galaxy in search of him, that your soul was missing a piece so small, you didn’t even know it was missing until Mando filled that void. He’s etched into your skin, your bones, your veins. Every nerve ending tissue has been electrified by this enigma of a man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those who’d try to come between him and his clan.

Kriff, you’re drained already. He hasn’t even begun to fuck you, but waves of exhaustion are coming over you. Mando’s still fucking teasing you, only ever prodding the tip of himself inside you and then pulling away before he can truly fill you up.

He said if this became too much for you to handle, all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop. You’re starting to consider it; you don’t think you can handle much more of the slow torture he’s inflicting.

Just as your jaw slackens, he slams into you in a sift motion, fully immersing himself inside your swollen walls.

“Fuck!” You pant out, wrenching your eyes shut and feeling tears trinkle down your cheeks. Mando doesn’t move one bit, just sits inside you like he’s waiting for you to adjust yourself to the size of him.

“Shit, you’re tight. Gonna train that pretty cunt of yours to mold to my cock,” he grits out. Big hands hold you down by the waist, and he ever so slooooowly eases out of you only to ram into you again, all the way to the hilt. You’re seeing stars, every move, every thrust bringing you closer to euphoria. The only thing your mind can process is how fucking amazing it feels to be clenched around his cock. It’s mind bending, it’s intoxicating, you’ll never get used to the way he fucking tortures you.

He develops a downright brutal pace, pulling out just enough for his tip to pierce your walls and then pounding into you, growling every time he touches your cervix. Once he’s fully immersed inside you, he bucks his hips and practically jackhammers his cock inside you. A sheen of sweat covering both your bodies causes the sound of skin slapping against skin to sound so wet and fucking obscene. Still pounding into you, Mando’s hands leave your waist to grab under your thighs, lifting them up to hang off his shoulders. Pushing down on the backs of your thighs, he practically bends you in half at the knees, an arm on either side of your head, and then begins a pace so fast and brutal, you’re sure you’ll be sore for weeks. The spot he’s hitting right now is one you didn’t think was even possible. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, you can’t even make a goddamn sound. Your throat is bone dry, and whatever pathetic sounds that escape you are barely audible and breathless.

“Stars, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters in your ear, and then he’s sucking at your neck, bruising the skin.

Mouth agape, you’re so fucking close to coming, a part of you doesn’t even want to tell him how close you are in case he stops. You don’t think you could physically handle it if he denied you again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how much fucking noise your little cunt is making?”

On a normal day, Mando says as little as possible, giving you a quick sentence in response or even a one-word answer, but when he’s balls deep inside you, he can’t seem to shut up. He turns into a blabbering mess, offering you praise after praise like it’s a fucking prayer. Mando makes a note of everything. He comments on your gushing pussy, how your walls clench around him as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, how no one will ever touch you again.

How you’re his.

And you? You can barely throw two words together. You’re on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Is this what being on spice is like? Feeling a sense of euphoria that hits you wave after wave, each one stronger and more intense than the last, teetering the line between sanity and insanity.

“…mine,” you hear him snarl. Reality doesn’t even feel real anymore, you can barely make out what he’s saying to you.

Something like a whimper slips through your parted lips.

“Now, come for me.”

He barely finishes speaking before your orgasm tears right through you. It begins deep inside you and is quickly shattering the earth around you. Crying out so loud Mando has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds expelling from your lips. He continues to pound into your pussy, riding out the ripples of your climax, not relenting even for one moment. There isn’t any fucking air in your lungs—Mando’s weight is still pressing you into the cot and your climax is so strong, your chest is way passed heaving now.

You’ll be chasing this high for the rest of your life, the feeling of Mando unleashing his feral instincts on you, and you just helplessly letting him take control of you—it’s unlike anything you ever could have imagined.

“Good girl,” he praises. When you don’t immediately answer, still in a haze from the mind-shattering orgasm that just expelled out of you, Mando stills, cupping your face with his hand and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part, and your brain desperately tries to find any word that might help him understand that you’re okay and also anything but okay. Only being able to breathe in quick, sharp breaths, Mando places a kiss on your jaw and repeats in the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard him speak, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking your head frantically, you attempt to moisten your throat by swallowing, and it gives you enough to answer, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He reiterates.

“No,” you croak.

“Are you sure?” Stars, how can he be so relentless in the way he fucks you and switch into a nurturer so quickly?

“Mmm. Please f-fuck me,” you mewl against him.

His cock twitches at your plea, and he obliges. In an effort to help you climb down from the overstimulation, he eases in and out of you at a deliciously hard, but slow pace, and then he does something you couldn’t have been prepared for. Your lips are slightly parted, letting in little bursts of air to help calm your breathing, and suddenly, you feel wet, soft lips clash onto yours. Instinctively, you yelp into his mouth from the unexpected touch, but you quickly acclimate to it, feeling your lips move on his. It’s a little awkward at first, you get the impression Mando hasn’t kissed many people in his life, because your teeth end up clashing together a few times. He fucking giggles into your mouth and you all but melt into the cot. His tongue slips passed your lips and meets yours and you can taste yourself and broth on his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, pressing your lips even deeper on his. Mando moans low in his throat and you can feel the vibrations ripple in your own mouth.

He makes to pull away, but you keep his lips locked on yours, using your hands to keep him where you want him. He gives in without hesitation, letting you take control of the kiss as he continues to ram into you. The dreams you’ve had of this moment, the moment you’d feel his mouth on yours doesn’t even come close to the feeling of it happening to you right now. It all makes sense now. Every kiss you’ve had previously was just practice for this. It was all just preparing you for this defining moment, the moment you’d finally be able to break through Mando’s heavily guarded walls. Every smack of your lips, every flick your tongues, every broken moan in each other’s throats, they’re all just feats breaking down the duracrete barrier that he’s forced himself to build over the years.

Bodies intertwined, every part of yourselves wrapped up in the other, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and you suppose that’s how this is was always supposed to be. Each of you were missing the same piece— the inability to be perceived as anything but a person of strong will. Believing that vulnerability was a weakness, instead of something that should be treasured, and without knowing it, your paths crossed and challenged every part of your identity.

Foundling, Mandalorian, bounty hunter, father.

Orphan, mechanic, smuggler, Jedi.

Those shouldn’t mix together as perfectly as they do, but stars, does it feel like everything finally makes sense.

A second orgasm begins to brew in your stomach, but you don’t dare pull away from Mando’s lips. You’ll never pull away until he forces himself off of you.

He leaves your lips for just a moment, panting and his own chest heaving against yours. “Maker, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Shhh,” Tugging desperately at his hair, you close the small gap between you and slosh your mouths together. You both whimper brokenly on each other’s lips, and Mando slams into you three more times before his hips still, feeling his cock pump his seed into your soaking pussy. Just as he begins to come, your second climax reaches its peak and crashes into you. His hands are back on your waist, digging his fingernails into your skin. Whatever moans you both cry out are muffled by each other’s’ mouths, catching the sound and swallowing it, burying it deep inside one another.

When you come start to come down from your climaxes, Mando drops his head to the crook of your neck, burying his face into your skin and pressing sloppy, chaste kisses right where your jaw meets your neck.

“I—” You attempt to speak, but your vocal cords are so raw, it hurts even just making a sound. You’re still practically bent in half, and your legs are burning up. Resorting to stir around hoping he’ll get the message, Mando pulls off of you, using both his hands to very gently bring them down his shoulders, one by one, once again giving each of your inner thighs some tender pecks. Pulling out of you, his come seeps out of your completely worn out slit. He peppers a few kisses along your waist, and then you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Where—” You begin to say, making to slowly prop yourself on your elbows.

“I’m still here,” he assures you.

You can hear him moving things around, and you seriously wish there was some kind of light allowing you to see what he’s doing but given that your eyes have gotten used to being in complete darkness, you’re sure you’d be blinded by even the smallest amount of light right now.

A few minutes go by and then you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you down the cot. Once he feels like your head won’t hit the top of the bunk, he lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around your back, and in turn you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you for a couple steps and then brings you down onto what you expect will be the cold ground. Instead, you feel cotton on your back as he lowers you down.

“Where did you—?”

“I have a couple of extra capes in case one gets too battered,” he says, answering your question before you can finish asking it.

As soon as your head touches the ground, you feel your eyelids shut, exhaustion overpowering you. Turning over on your side and hiking up one of your legs up so that your knee lines up with your chest, you don’t even care that your own slick and his seed is practically dripping down your legs. You don’t care that you’re still naked from the waist down. The only thing you care about is falling asleep, preferably in Mando’s arms.

“Don’t sleep yet. Need to clean you up,”

“Mmm,” you protest. “Later.”

Mando chuckles lightly and then he’s wiping the slick off your legs and entrance with what feels like… a pair of trousers.

“Are you using my pants to clean that up?”

“It’s the first thing I grabbed. I’ll wash it.”

“Mmm, you better,” you mumble into your arm.

Now, you’re starting to slip in and out of consciousness, fatigue taking you over. Mando rummages around the hull for a bit longer, and then joins you on the floor, throwing what you assume is another cape, over your half naked body. You don’t even have the energy to move your body over towards his, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re both still close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin.

“Hey, Mando?”

“Yes?”

“I won.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes after that, and you’re on the verge of falling asleep when his velvety smooth voice breaks through the silence of the Crest.

“Blue,” his voice is low and barely audible.

“Mmm?” You mumble, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I…like the color blue.”

Okay, now that puts a stupid, hazy smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular shade of blue? Bright… dark?” You may be barely conscious, but you hang onto every word he says.

“I guess… dark.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Why do you like that color?”

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s about to confess something to you that he hasn’t told anyone else. As if in this very moment, he’s about to give himself to you completely. “The Mandalorians that saved me from that battle droid in my village. Their armor was blue.”

Mando doesn’t elaborate any further, but he doesn’t have to. Feeling your heart tighten in your chest, you imagine what a young Mando must have been feeling when that droid pointed its guns at him. How he must have been utterly terrified and convinced that he was about to die. And then to be saved at the last moment. Seeing these warriors in blue armor coming to rescue him, to save his village from an even worse massacre. They were his saviors, it only makes sense that after all these years, that color would bring him solace and comfort.

It’s quite ironic, actually. Blues have the reputation of representing sadness or pain and you too have been accustomed to associating blue with your own trauma, and then here comes Mando.

The color symbolizes the exact opposite of what its known for. To him, it brings relief and reminds him of being saved; representing the beginning of a new life that he’s exemplified through and through. It’s a beautiful confession, and you’ll forever be searching for him in all the shades of blue that the galaxy has to offer.

Two opposites.

Yellow and blue.

One representing happiness and light. The other representing sadness and melancholy. Blend those two together and you create the fiercest of combinations. A beautiful balance of both extremes.

And when you think about it, what color does blue and yellow make?

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #reader insert #we are one when together #fics

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remmysbounty · 3 years

Note

ooo I'm very interested to see if you could combine secret relationship & there’s only one bed from the prompt list. Like maybe they're forced to share a bed but have to pretend this is like not exactly what they wanted to happen infront of others? I have no idea, you don't have to go with that if you have another idea or you could just go with one of the prompts I'm really not too fussy! :)

ooooo me likey this idea very much hehehe I hope you like this boo!!! also I might have gone just a touch overboard with this sooooooooo

also there’s some cursing in here but it’s not much, figured I’d let y’all know either way

hidden in plain sight // frankie morales x gn!reader

I’m going to kill them, you thought, I’m going to kill each of them especially-

Frankie came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before bringing you closer to his chest. All you could continue to do was stare at the bed, stewing in your anger- and worry-, as Frankie started to kiss the back of your neck softly.

“Fish,” your whisper was soft but stern- a warning- both to him and you.

He whimpered slightly, much like a small dog who’d been hurt, but stepped away from you nonetheless. Neither one of you wanted to have that space between you but the second the two of you crossed that line from friends to something more you agreed to not breathe a word of these to the boys, at least for now.

The bed though, the bed that was clearly meant for two people- maybe even three, was a big glaring sign to you.

If the boys hadn’t already figured it out, they would definitely figure it out now, and you just didn’t want that.

Frankie unpacked next to you, only arms reach away, but you stood there frozen.

Knock knock

You jumped slightly and then turned to see Benny laughing at your fright. He got a middle finger in return, a response which Frankie could only chuckle at.

“You two going to be okay rooming together?” Benny looked from you to Frankie, checking to see that both of you were comfortable with the whole situation.

Of course you were, you already shared a bed with Frankie on a regular basis, but you couldn’t exactly say that to Benny.

“We’ll be fine Ben,” you smiled softly at him, “Don’t worry about me.”

Frankie finished putting his stuff in the dresser and turned to face Benny, “Same here man.”

“Good,” with another smile to the both of you he left only for his head to reappear a second later, “Food will be ready in a few.”

You knew he stayed close by, Santi most likely with him, as you finally got movement back in your own body. While you unpacked your things, which you then realized included some of Frankie’s stuff, Frankie relaxed on the bed, his eyes following your every move with a tenderness you knew he only reserved for you and his daughter.

“Stop it,” you practically whined as you felt the reel of Frankie’s stare. He reminded you of a puppy now, begging for a treat.

The smirk on his face told you he knew what he was doing, “Stop what?” His voice a rough whisper so as to not let the others catch on.

You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t stop the whine that escaped your lips, “Francisco.”

His eyes widened, and with an agility that only a former Special Forces operative would have, you found yourself crowded against the dresser, your hands automatically finding their place behind Frankie’s neck.

He stared at you. You stared right back.

He wanted to kiss you, he looked much like he did the first time you kissed... only this time he wasn’t hesitant because he was afraid of your reaction, no this time he was hesitant because he was afraid of their reaction.

He took a breath out, you took a breath in. But he couldn’t risk it, not now at least, and yet he continued to hold you.

“I wonder if we should tell them...” Your eyes no longer stared back at his as you posed the idea.

Frankie would have accepted. He wanted to tell the whole world about the two of you the second you kissed him back, but you wanted to keep it just between the two of you so Frankie would respect that.

He shook his head before resting his forehead against yours, “Just us,” there was a pause, “for now.”

You nodded, “Just us.”

Now if only you could get through the rest of this trip without revealing a single thing to the boys.

You walked back from dinner alone, and exhausted, but happy nonetheless that you’d succeeded through one meal.

5 more to go, you thought.

The boys hadn’t said a word when you’d left with a soft goodnight, your exhaustion was more than obvious, but the second you were out the door, they all turned to Frankie and started their teasing tirade over his feelings for you. But Frankie was ready for this, and not a single thing slipped through his lips.

——

You woke up the next day to the blaring of Frankie’s alarm, as well as something else, a whisper or several whispers. You were still too enveloped in sleep to even process what was being said, but you recognized the voices- there was Benny and Santi, and there was Will, and as you were about to snuggle deeper into Frankie’s chest you heard his voice.

“You’re gonna wake ‘Em up,” he grumbled as he tried to hide the way his fingers caressed your side softly, hopefully lulling you back to bed.

“I didn’t know you had it in you Fish,” Benny practically screamed, or at least it seemed like a scream to you.

You groaned, “What the hell are you idiots doing here so early?”

Frankie’s alarm continued to blare.

“It is way too early for this shit,” you tried to make yourself more comfortable as you finally realized that the boys were just watching you and Frankie in the bed.

All you wanted to do was get more sleep, and Frankie’s alarm still continued.

“Fish,” your words practically slurred as you felt yourself fall deeper into sleep’s embrace, “Alarm.”

There it was, the silence, and then once it was too deep for you to turn back you heard Will’s voice, “Fish, are you two sleeping together?”

——

None of them needed any words from Frankie. The second Will said those words, they knew his answer. If the way his eyes widened wasn’t an obvious response then it was the way his hold on you seemed to tighten, but either way they figured it out.

And that’s what you woke up to the second time. The boys peppering question after question Frankie’s way as he tried to force them out the door. He wanted to stay in bed, his body interlaced with yours, but instead he found himself pulled out the room by Santi, the door quickly closing behind him.

“We aren’t angry Fish,” Will’s voice was calm yet methodical, “we just want to know why you hadn’t told us.”

The voices had led you closer to the door and eventually you found your ear pressed against it, searching for more.

“We didn’t say anything because we wanted to just keep it between us-“ “But you two-“ “Pope we aren’t, well actually... it isn’t like that. I love ‘em and I’m hoping they feel the same way.”

Everything drifted away after that. Frankie loves you. Francisco Morales. He loves you.

You glared at the door as if it was the one thing stopping you from telling him then and there. But you knew Frankie, and you knew that if you were to tell him it had to be just the two of you. Then the voices slowly came to a stop and the door opened with Frankie slowly making his way.

His eyes landed on you and he opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, “I love you.”

He stared at you and stuttered slightly, “You heard-“ he pointed to the outside.

You nodded and slowly made your way over to him, your hands reaching for the first part they could grab before cupping his face, “I love you Francisco.”

You were determined to make him believe it, Frankie could see it on your face... but so was he. And suddenly he turned the both of you around, pressing you against the door before hoisting you up by your thighs, your feet and hands quickly linking together.

His lips pressed against yours. “I love you,” his lips met yours again, “I-“ one kiss, “love-“ another, “you.”

Your lips went to meet again when suddenly a bunch of banging was heard from the other side and then Santi’s voice was heard, “We’re happy for you two... really.... just try not to make too much noise alright, we aren’t prepared for that just yet.”

To say that you at least tried to be quiet was an understatement.

——

Tin Man: @captn-andor @thewayofthemandalorian @magpie-to-the-morning @magicrowiswritingstuff @booksmusicteaandanimals @dinthisisthe-wayson @littlemisspascal @din-damn-djarin @cleversturmhond @dincrypt @ohwaitimthewriter @poestardust @dindjarindiaries @dindja @dindjarinsghost @reluctant-mandalore @pascalpanic @princessxkenobi @smoldjarin @spideysimpossiblegirl

#remmys bounty #remmys writings #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier drabble #triple frontier #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier request #remmys requests

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lavendersies · 3 years

Note

Willuz prompts:

- Willow and her bumblebee Palisman grow an extravagant topiary of her and Luz, adorned with beautiful bouquets of flowers (as well as make delicious honey) for Luz to thank her for everything.

- Kind of a recap of Season 1's Luz and Willow adventures, but with the notable highlight that Willow gives Luz an appropriate flower bouquet as thanks of helping her out (can be combined with previous prompt if preferable)

- Amity and Hunter argue which of the two Luz loves the most, only to find Luz on a date/making out with Willow in a secluded, forested area, maybe with blossoming flowers (this is a non-serious fic as an allegory to the whole shipping war at the moment, but could come off as a bit mean :P)

- Luz practices with her Glyphs once more to make nice flowers and topiaries for Willow.

- Willow has a crush on Luz and can't help but feel a little jealous when she and Amity get close instead. Willow is too shy to confess her feelings for Luz, fearing rejection, and doesn't want to be in hot water with Amity again after they're finally getting along since their breach years ago. Willow wants to be happy for them, but Gus notices her depression.

- Boscha has thrashed Willow's beautiful plant garden, a passion project that's been taken years, and Willow is despaired by this, too depressed to continue and rebuild. Luz decides to fix the garden and improve it.

@Arendalphaeagle gave theses wonderful prompts so I have went with fourth one. The request was suppose to be uploaded on A03 but it didn't work out so until further notice all Willuz requests will be uploaded here. Feel free to drop ya'll request in my ask box. Enjoy.

A flower for Willow

Luz tapped the symbol emitting a green light and a single flower merge. She looks over at her spell book that specializes in plant magic for something new. She had committed her time to mastering a new glyph, hoping it would create the perfect gift for Willow. Luz didn't care if she spent the whole night out here and woke up with tired eyes caked with crust. Starting earlier this week would have been the wise thing to do but studying for her witch classes ate up the time. In a sluggish motion the sun disappeared behind the trees, allowing the moon to provide a dim light and usher in darkness. Luz casted a luminous orb as she read the instruction on how to evoke multiple flowers. She read the guide once more then traced the symbol on paper and activated it. A patch of lavender and lilac flowers bloom before her, this was just what she needed. Luz would allow her artistic skills to do the rest, she took her book and went inside.

She found Eda knocked out on the couch with an empty cup of apple blood dangling from her hand. A smile spread on her lips seeing the grey-haired witch in her apple blood coma. King was probably upstairs waiting for Luz's return so they could continue watching an anime series that she had downloaded on her phone. Upon entering the room Luz sees King scowling one of his stuffed animals.

When he noticed her presence. He stopped chiding the pink rabbit, "Oh hey Luz, are you ready to watch soul eater with me?" He asked, sitting on the sleeping mat.

"Not tonight love," She replied.

"Why not?!" King whined.

Luz faced the opposite direction and stripped from her outwear into pj's. She put them near the mat and got out her sketch pad.

"I have to finish a gift for Willow," she said, sitting down to begin sketching her friend's face.

"You can finish it tomorrow, I've been watching all week for us to watch soul eater!"

"Sorry King, I promise we will watch it together tomorrow" she assured.

The furry demon grumbled under his breath and joined her on the mat. "What are you drawing anyways?" He asked, peeking over her shoulder.

"A picture of Willow" she responded.

"What's the occasion?"

"None, I just want to do something nice for my friend," she said.

"Do you have anything else in mind?"

Luz had finished Willow's eyes and moved on to her nose, "Tomorrow I'm

going to create a plant statue with this picture".

"I want a plant statue of me!" King cried.

Luz chuckled.

"And you've been doing a lot for Willow lately, last week you went out of your way to get her that plant baby".

Luz's heart raced, she already knew the next words coming, "She sounds more than a friend" King commented.

"Friends do things for each other all the time" Luz struggled to tolerate her frisky heart, hoping the tone of her voice wasn't a dead give away.

"Eh, if you say so."

The room fell in silence and Luz worked diligently on Willow's portrait. The plant witch dominates her thoughts, now her heart flutters thinking of those olive green eyes behind the thin-rimmed glasses. The way her ear twitched at sudden noises. Willow had been nothing but a sweet-heart since day, she deserved the world and Luz was willing to give her it. Although these feelings bloomed, she didn't know if it was mutual on Willow's end, and she would keep them buried away. When Luz finally looked up from her sketch-pad King was fast asleep at the edge of her mat. She set aside the finished product and got some rest.

Later that night, Luz had woken up to relieve her heavy bladder, she carefully stepped over a sleeping King and visited the bathroom. After washing her hands, she found herself outside.

The moon's bright orbs brighten her path as she walks through the woods. Luz was a moth drawn to light, she felt compelled to keep moving. The orbs glowed rapidly like glistening gems, Luz could hear the vibration. She was led into the opening and a massive bush that resembled Willow's head came in view.

Woah...

"Thank you Luz!" It says

"Huh?"

Its large yellow luminous remind her of fireflies, she had accidentally swallowed one when she was seven.

"Thank you" it repeated.

"What for?" Luz asked.

She didn't get a response to her question,7 the bush thanked Luz on an endless loop. Suddenly, gravity reeled her forward and its mouth opened wide, swallowing her.

Luz was expecting to be engulfed in darkness, her eyes were squeezed shut. She felt warmth and a chubby body press against hers, opening her eyes. Luz realized it was Willow. She embraced the plant witch hug and gently ran her hand along Willow's turquoise hair.

"Luz!"

Everything faded. Luz woke up in her makeshift room with an annoyed little demon held prisoner in her arms. "Luz let go!" He whines struggling to break free.

"Sorry.." she said sheepishly.

Luz released him and King scurried off on all fours. She took care of her personal hygiene then returned to the room for her uniform. When Luz went downstairs, Eda was waiting at the door with her staff. She wore her pajamas. "Can we take the tub?”

“No, its for emergencies only”

“Please” Luz said, giving the grey haired woman pitiful eyes.

“I’m immune to those” Eda stated dismissively.

“But you can’t be the coolest witch without it,”

“Keep it up and you’ll be walking to school” Eda said heading out the door.

The schoolyard was still empty when Luz hopped off the staff. She watched Eda fly away, disappearing over the autumn colored trees. Luz took out her plant magic textbook and turned to the page about manipulation. After she got a good understanding, she pulled out the portrait of Willow and drew two symbols on them. Luz crossed her fingers and tapped the paper, a stem sprouted forth and the leaves took on the form of Willow's face. Two Lilac flowers blossomed on both sides, the topiary was the size of a miniature house plant. She had expected bigger but before Luz could sulk her crush arrived.

"Willow!" She quickly hid the plant behind her back.

"Hey" Willow smiled.

Luz felt butterflies tickling her stomach, she forced a skittish smile and revealed the topiary. Willow eyes widened with astonishment, she took the plant from Luz's hands.

"Aww thanks" Willow shifted the plant in her other arm and gave her a hug. Luz no longer had butterflies pestering her insides. The euphoria buttered her up, if Luz hadn't stopped herself she would have kissed Willow. For a brief moment, the turquoise haired witch stared at her. Luz was about to look away but Willow touched her cheek and gently kissed her lips. She led Luz by the hand towards the school building.

#the owl house #willow toh #willow park #willow the owl house #the owl house luz #luz noceda #willuz #eda the owl witch #toh eda #toh willow #toh luz

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jafndaegur · 3 years

Text

Blue and Grey [tears reflected in the mirror]

Zen x MC

a/n: A song fic within a song fic. Reverse isekai. If you know the songs, then you know the songs.

Jumin | x |

Can you look at me? 'Cause I am blue and grey

The tears reflected in the mirror mean

My colors hid in the smile, blue and grey

When MC had first sung for Zen, he had been thoroughly mesmerized and floored.

Within the first five minutes of the RFA party, Jaehee has rushed over to the little group, quickly reporting to Jumin and MC that the singer for the event called in—there had been a last minute emergency and they wouldn't make it.

And while they had Zen's press conference in the first half of the evening to occupy all of their attention, after the chaos that came from his sudden confession, they still had to worry about the night's entertainment.

MC had remembered squeezing Zen's hand in hers before going to Jahee and Jumin, talking to them in a hushed voice before making her way to the back parking lot where the car that had picked her and Zen up was. She returned carrying a guitar case, and she swallowed slowly as she felt his curious gaze follow her up to the stage. In real life, she performed often at bars, semi-formal restaurants, weddings, birthday parties, you name it.

But something like the RFA party in another world from her own scared her.

Masking away the stage fright with a smile, she found Zen's eyes in the crowd. She felt a sense of calm soothe her nerves as she made her apologies into the mic for the change of plans for tonight's enjoyment. Her fingers strummed the chords of the guitar.

MC smiled prettily, her eyes gazing tenderly at her Hyun Ryu as the song that filled her heart overflowed.

"Tell me something boy, aren't you tired trying to fill that void."

The atmosphere of the party changed. It probably looked ridiculous, her up on stage dressed up in a pretty black dress and one of Zen's sweaters. Not to mention guitar music was so out of place in the fancy RFA ballroom. But her guitar had been the only thing she'd been able to bring with her from the real world into the world of Mystic Messenger. And she brought it everywhere since her arrival. Only now was she grateful that she had.

"Or do you need more?" She felt a thrum in her heart as Zen walked toward her, his gaze never left hers. "Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?"

He reached the stage where she sat and reached out. A strange bubbling warmth seeped in her chest and she tried not to giggle. Getting up from her seat, she slipped her hand into his and pulled him up onto the stage.

In that moment everything was perfect.

"I'm falling, in all the good times I find myself—" she sighed breathily as Zen's knuckles gently grazed her cheek. "Longing for change."

She regretted her hand leaving his, the lack of her skin against his, the lack of him living and pulsing within her hold. MC strummed the next chord.

"And in the bad times I fear myself…"

The look on Zen's face suddenly brought her reeling to reality, panic stricken and reaching for her again. And MC's perfect moment shattered as she disappeared.

It had been half a year.

It had been half a year since MC woke back up in her bedroom, with her phone clutched in her hand and the Mystic Messenger game's blue "Good End" card blinking up at her.

Now she meagerly stumbled day by day, deprived of the vibrance she'd been exposed to through her RFA loved ones. Life felt so empty without everyone, their brilliant laughter and their wonderful friendship.

She'd miss Seven's exhausting energy, and she missed talking about Yoosung's late night endeavors. Jaehee's favorite coffee had always been a fun topic to converse on, and MC often missed laughing at Jumin's stiff jokes. And Zen…

Her romance with Zen had been unexpected. As MC slipped out of bed to stand in front of her room mirror, she could imagine her boyfriend behind her, his large body behind her and embracing her warmly. He was so protective, and anytime he held her it felt as though she were enveloped and hidden away from the world. MC felt her lip tremble and her hand braced against the smooth surface of the mirror as she let out a sob. How was this fair? To spend eleven days in another world, in a love so deep that it was the sole focus of her heart, only for all of it to be so cruelly ripped away and strewn into the fantasy. As if it had never existed.

Her phone rang and MC scrubbed her palm against her eyes furiously before answering.

It was the entertainment agency she worked for.

"Hey kiddo," her manager's voice greeted warmly, although to MC's ears it sounded robotic. "That new hire I was telling you about is splitting your gig tonight. We figured it would help to have a more experienced singer on scene with him."

MC stared blankly into the mirror watching as the tears refused to stop their path across the plane of her cheek. Had they told her she'd be mentoring someone? It was hard to remember things these days, mostly because she didn't care to anymore.

"Sounds good, we'll talk later then. Take care." She hung up the phone and went about her day until it was time to force some makeup onto her face and dress up nicely for her gig.

By the time she walked into the bar, it was already an hour and a half after the new hire's shift had started. He must've been taking a break because the piano accompanist was playing a light jazzy tune that seemed more ambience than anything else. Something about the melody was familiar and haunting, like a song from the fleeting wisp of a dream. She made her way to the stage before nearly tripping and falling over.

The new singer started speaking, his voice oh so familiar and oh so tender. "This will be my last song of the night before my beautiful partner will provide the best final half! Please enjoy."

MC stared into the crimson eyes of Hyun Ryu, his smile wide and pearly, and he gripped the microphone, leaning in close with the long strands of his ponytail slipping over his shoulder. His tongue flicked out and licked his lips before he started singing gently.

Oh. This song…

"Tell me something girl—"

MC dropped her purse and her coat at the closest booth and raced to the stage weaving in and out of tables.

Zen chuckled and MC felt her heart thunder in her chest. He continued, "Are you happy in this modern world? Or do you need more?"

MC stopped at the stage stairs, wondering if she should wait until after his song, after all...this was a performance. But Zen reached out his hand, and suddenly the overwhelming wave of nostalgia and deja-vu rushed her.

"Is there something else you're searching for?"

She grabbed his hand, unprepared for him to pull her against his chest.

Zen's hand sifted through her hair before he gently cupped the back of her head and forced her to look at him. "I'm falling, in all the good times I find myself longing for change…"

MC gripped the front of his shirt, unable to believe that he was here. Living. Breathing. Existing in her arms.

"And in the bad times," his voice cracked a bit. "I fear myself…"

The piano melted away and so did the audience. Nothing else in the world existed, only MC, Zen, and their little song.

MC rested against him, trembling. "I'm here," she whispered.

He chuckled and rested his chin on the crown of her head.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme zen #zen x mc #hyun ryu x mc #hyun ryu #song fic: bts blue and grey #song fic: a star is born shallows

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timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic · 4 years

Text

Chapter 35 - What Have You Done My Little Spark?

Seattle Washington, July 12 1990

(Chris is 25, Andi is 20)

CHRIS: I wake up in the middle of the night, my eyes quickly flicking open, feeling my heart pounding. It's been a while since I've had a dream that woke me up like this and the crazy thing is, I can't even remember what the dream was about.

I sit myself up and glance over to see Andi sleeping so sweetly, the sheet pulled up to her ribs with her side exposed, her curls all around her with some strewn across her face. She looks completely at peace, her bare chest gently rising and falling with the perfect view of her nipples that make me want to wake her up and make love to her again.

Instead I decide to get out of bed, grab my boxers from the floor, pull them on, and quietly make my way out of the bedroom.

"Fuck, it's so damn hot in this house," I say quietly to myself.

We're right in the middle of a heatwave and of course we don't have air conditioning - not that we would be able to afford it right now anyways. I mean we're not broke but the European leg of the tour really took a lot of money out of us so we have to resort back to that beat up old van for the next round of tour dates. I was beginning to like having a bus for a little while but hey, at least when I get bored on the road, I'm usually the one to drive us. I just feel bad for Andi cause now she has to share a van with 4 guys. Not that she would mind, she seems to love it out on the road and I absolutely love having her with me. She's the one who keeps me sane.

I head into the kitchen, grab my pack of cigarettes off the counter and light one up, then open up the fridge and grab a bottle of water, and decide to head downstairs into the little studio that I set up in the basement. It's not exactly high tech or anything, just our guitars and amps and I was able to pick up an old reel to reel tape machine from London Bridge Studios - where we recorded Louder Than Love. It was one of their old machines that they just didn't use anymore and so I just bought it real cheap.

I take a seat in one of the large reading chairs we have down here, place the cigarette between my lips and pick up one of my acoustic guitars. I grab one of the journals that I have off the desk and start to flip through the pages of ideas and lyrics that I've written down. Usually when I have a hard time sleeping, I'll try and see if I can get some words and ideas down.

As I quint my eyes from the rising smoke, I flip though the journal I suddenly realize it's Andi's which makes me smile at some of her ideas. She really can come up with some great stuff so I grab a pen and start writing in some of the margins.

"I'm your disappearing one, vanish when you play your song. But I will come again and you will let me in, and you'll see I never disappear for long... Huh... shit, baby that's good..." I say to myself as I rest the cigarette on the ashtray and write something just above it.

'Falling apart, You tell yourself you are, but I am here and you're not far...’

I smirk to myself and continue on turning pages when I reach a page towards the back that had been stuffed inside the cover. Intrigued, I pull out the folded paper and open it to see a letter from Andy, dated January 25 1990

"I don't have any Idea why I'm even writing this down but you were always the one to tell me that I should. You know me though, I like to just fly by the top of my head I guess. Fuck there's so much that I want to say to you, it's just how do I even say it? I know I shouldn't. I should keep it to myself. 'I wanna tell her that I love her but does it really matter?' Yea, I know... it sounds much better in Crown of Thorns don't you think?

All I know is that night in the park by The Moore... that was the most amazing kiss I've ever had in my life. I mean, I knew I was feeling something. You, the birthday girl in all your sadness. I just wanted to take that away for just a few moments like you always did for me.

I know, I know... it's not exactly the best timing for this is it? If only I was the one who could time slip, maybe things would be different. But you were meant for Cornell and I know in my deepest of hearts that he was meant for you. I mean just watching how he is with you... you woke up something inside him that I didn't think anyone would see. But of course he's loved you since he was what - 15? You are for Chris as what I wish Xana was for me. You know I love Xana, I always will, but I just think we aren't right for each other anymore.

Really what I'm trying to say here is that I love you Andrea, more than just a friend. I always have. But I know you are meant to be with Chris and that's ok. Like I said, you two are really meant for each other. I know you two are gonna get married and have lots and lots of beautiful blue eyed babies and I just want you to know that I'm here if you need me. 'Cause I know I sure need you."

As I finish reading the last line, a rush of different feelings all seemed to flood in me at once. Anger, pain, confusion among others. What the hell did he mean about 'that night in the park'?

"Hey baby," I hear Andi's sleepy voice behind me and I turn to see her in one of my button up shirts, her dark curls all around her as she rubs her eye from sleep.

"Hey," I say flatly as I pick up the cigarette burning in the ashtray and take a drag.

"Can't sleep?" She asks and I shrug as I take another drag.

"If you come back to bed, I can help with that," She says sweetly as she comes up behind me and wraps her arms around me, her hands moving over my chest as she places a few kisses on my shoulder. I take one last drag of my cigarette, then butt in out in the ashtray but still say nothing

"What's wrong? Why are you so quiet?" She asks.

"I thought maybe you would want to explain this," I say without much emotion again as I show her the letter I found. She glances at the paper and slowly takes it from my hand while I move out of the chair. She looks it over, pushing her curls behind her ear.

"Where'd you find this?" She asks, furrowing her brow as she still reads the letter.

"Stuffed in the back of your journal," I say coldly as I set the guitar back down on it's stand. I turn back to face her as I see her still reading the letter and wait for an explanation.

"I don't know what you want me to explain, it's just a letter that Andy wrote - "

"What does he mean about 'that night in the park'? What park? When?" I cut her off. She hesitates for a moment and looks back down at the letter.

"Chris... it wasn't anything, It was when I time slipped when we were in Germany. After that fight we had remember?"

"Yea I remember. But what the fuck happened? Did you fuck him?" I say angered and hurt, feeling my heart pounding in my chest again.

"No! No, fuck no - "

"Then what does he mean?" I cut her off again. She glances back at the letter and then looks up at me, her brow furrowing as she tries to find the words.

"I just - "

"You just what?" I cut her off again my voice now louder than before.

"-Ok! I'm trying to tell you alright?" She raises her voice back at me. We then look at each other in silence for a few moments and then she begins to explain.

"... there wasn't anyway that I could tell him what was going to happen. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't. You and I just had that fight and I was so upset, and seeing him just made me miss him so much. Being able to talk to him and laugh like nothing had happened... it hurts. I was just so sad because he was right there in front of me and I couldn't bring you with me to see him alive again. Like nothing had ever happened and... I don't know it just happened. He kissed me. It was innocent... nothing else happened I swear,"

I could see the tears that she held at bay, explaining to me how she actually was able to go back and see Andy again. I wasn't exactly sure how to feel about it.

"He says he's in love with you in that letter... were you in love with him too?" I ask not sure if I want to hear the answer. She drops the letter on the chair and walks over to me, looking up into my eyes.

"No Chris. My heart is yours. I swear I could never love anyone else as much as I love you," She says and I reach out to cup her face in my palm. Sometimes I forget just how hard it is on her to travel back in time and see the people who have long gone in her life - our life - and to come back and know that they are no longer here.

I lean down and touch my forehead to hers as she moves her hands up over my abs and to my chest.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I ask calmly.

"I didn't want to make you upset. I didn't want you angry with him... or me," She says.

"I'm not angry, I'm just... I don't know," I say.

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted to stay hurt but she always has a way of making me want her, even when I'm pissed off at her. I suddenly find my lips on hers, my hands on her hips pulling her closer to me, moving around and feeling her ass cheeks through the bottom of my black button up shirt she threw on.

"You should've told me," I repeat softly when I break away from her lips.

"I know," She says sweetly and presses her lips back to mine, her fingers finding their way through my curls, pulling me into her. My hands move up under her shirt, feeling the softness of her pale skin, skipping across her back as she sighs against my lips.

Holy fuck I want her so fucking bad.

"If you come back to bed... I promise... I'll make it up to you," She says in between her kisses. I moan against her lips as she moves her hand down to the front of my boxers, palming me through the thin fabric which almost instantly sprang me to life. She pulls away and bites her bottom lip, raising her eyebrow at me and turns to make her way towards the stairs and as I watch her walk away, admiring that cute ass of hers, she looks back at me stopping at the first step.

"You coming?"

"I will be," I raise my eyebrow back at her and run towards her. She squeals with laughter as I chase her up the stairs, catching her, and carrying her the rest of the way.

#chris cornell #soundgarden #time after time #time travel #also on wattpad #alternate universe #also on ao3 #fantasy #chris cornell fanfiction #soundgarden fanfiction

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iammamenow · 4 years

Text

🔮Dream Snippet💤

This Evening: 'Karl Satan', featuring Misha Collins

My friend and I are avid metalheads. So much so, in fact, that we concluded that if we'd have known each other before our officially meeting in college, we would've led drastically different lives for the better. Our music tastes made us the quintessential outcasts throughout our childhood, in our differently placed yet all too similar environments of the unforgiving grammar school setting. And if we'd have been together, instead of rebelling alone? Hell. We would've been fucking merciless; scaring off all those who tried to subdue us with 'Slipknot'.

Luckily, we didn't miss each other entirely. It was she that managed to get tickets to our local Knotfest, and since then we've practically been inseparable. We have a whole list of other acts we NEED to see. Jinjer, Cherry Bombs, System of A Down... Killswitch Engage is one of the more recent ones added to the list.

And it keeps on building from there.

Blame the die-hard fan in me, but I even go so far as to dream of the concerts we'll see, and the bands that'll be headlining it. Very rarely is it ever as detailed with the opening number.

So you can only imagine my surprise when this little nightly fantasy in particular came in and dropped kick the bomb on me from up close instead of merely from up high.

Because as much as I love metal, Supernatural comes in at a very, very close second.

Onto the dream! That way you'll see what I mean.

My friend and I are already at the venue. We gave up the idea of seats and smuggled our way into the nearest pit where there was already a circle forming, whirling in rhythm to the revving up of the amps testing out the guitars. It had been years since I'd been in one. I jump in, just in time for the wave that comes our way. My friend decides to watch from the sidelines. To my chaotic, she is the zen. Even at a metal concert, where we both inevitably lose our shit, but in our own way.

Soon the tests of chords cease from the guitars, the rhythmic hits from each individual drum and symbol cut. That long drone of bassy silence fills the entire place with that unsaid but solid presence of a queue - someone's about to go on.

The crowd cheers. My friend and I - along with the whole circle pit - turn to look at the stage and do the same. Naturally. No matter who's up there, you cheer. It's a metal concert, for Satan's sake. More than likely, every fucking band is gonna knock your ass out. I haven't been proven wrong if that yet.

And I certainly wasn't in my dream.

The five souls that come walking across the stage are oh so gothically dressed, it warms my heart to it's original sad core. The drama in the abundance of buckles, glinting a brilliant gold in the overhead stage lights; then the overall theatricality of the fact that their whole theme just mirrors that of my favorite horror movie 'Hellraiser' and it's main antagonists, The Cenobites. I was ready. I was waiting, already wanting the onslaught of their sound that I just knew had to be fucking brutal. I mean look at the way they're dressed! We were in for it.

Oh, we were.

I was.

The one stopping in front of the mic had an elaborate coverall mask on, save for the bottom half of his face. And when he took it off to reveal the rest of it, everyone cried out in bloody shock and praise.

I just went quiet.

My friend yelled out for me the "holy SHIT" that was already on my lips and screeching in my head when the now unmasked figure introduced himself as none other than the angel in a trenchcoat. The man that plays him, that is.

Misha Collins

I couldn't tune out the world around me if I tried. I didn't want to. Not even if I was in absolute shock. I do not allow myself to fade off into some haze or other ethereal realm when it comes to events like this. I want to be there, in that moment; one that I made it all this way for. For all concerts generally. For metal concerts specifically.

I just need to be there. All there.

And man, in that moment, was I fucking glad I was.

After making himself known, Misha turns to the band and introduces them as 'Karl Satan'. I know there was a deeper joke in there, i just know it. But I was too busy laughing at the name alone to even dissect it any further. Frankly, so was the audience. Such a hearty chorus brought a smile to Misha's lips.

As he readied the mask to be put back on again, he made one final claim as himself to say that he formed this cover band to try his hand at "this music shtick", just like the rest of his cast mates from the show. Personally, I never had any doubt that he had something like this in his artillery; something akin to a band or music act. But like this? Hell no. Hell. No! Hence making it all the more lovely of a surprise.

With that, the mask went back on, and he sent a nod the drummers way before the lights faded out, leaving us in an anticipating darkness. Almost as quickly as it set in for us did it get fucking shot with the sharp bash of the symbols, joined by the aftershocks of the snares.

It's starting. Holy fuck, it's starting!

The rhythm was classic, dangerously revving up to what you could literally taste to be a sweet drop. Above all, it was familiar. My friend and I were in perfect sync with Misha, when through the mask he screamed through gnashed teeth:

"THE YEARS I PUT INTO THIS!!"

His leadership was seamless; effortless. Without question, you would believe that he had done this before. With the headbangs intertwined in the thrumming veins of both the percussive guitar riff and the drums, he would channel his power back and forth. First he would go, then the audience.

The circle pit was a whole world of it's own. No. It was a black hole, sucking in other fans who caught a glance at it, and soon as they did, wanted to join the fray. I even got my friend to come in and join me in the air, where they hoisted me up once the center of the circle started to disappear with the amount of people swallowing up all the empty space. We were floating orbs in this fanatic atmosphere. Two circulating asteroids in the midst of a hailstorm of meteors, heading straight for the center our universe - the stage.

It was fucking AMAZING.

And so utterly filled with Misha-esque quips of humor and theatricality, making it feel all the more REAL. For example, as the opening number progressed, he would add little bits of harsh criticism of his own voice and caliber of scream. Then after the next song, he would transition with a story on how he auditioned to play a demon for Supernatural in the first place, and has since taken the rejection hard. "Can you tell? I started singing about it! Singing? Screaming? You get the idea. Yeah, you get it. I know you do". He then laughs suddenly, throwing his head back. He brings the mic up to follow that of his mouth, facing skyward. "Wait, wait! How shitty would it be if I would've actually gotten that fucking role if I'd have just done THIS?! Just SCREAM AT THEM?!" Like second nature does his Castiel voice come out. He even took of the mask again so that he could throw on the whole audience that quintessential doe eyed gaze of the angel's, complete with the head tilt. "Would you call me an angel then, Dean?" His own guffaw, bringing Misha back. "There you go. That's how Cas got his voice. He kept screaming into the void *Castiel voice* and came back out with this... As for the others, I can't speak for them. They wanna speak two octaves below their normal voice, who am I to say anything? Trick question. I'm the one who can't say anything because I'm too busy getting a sore throat all the time. Thanks, Cas. Love you, too. That bitch".

Forget what I said. AMAZING doesn't cut it. It was fucking GOLD.

And above all, it was a fucking DREAM.

I woke up eventually, and here I am three or so days later writing about it, still reeling from it.

I have only to conclude that the two things that make me happy are what seems to be a mirror with it's two sides, representing one thing in the reflection: the one thing that made me happy back then, and the one that makes me happy now.

I thought I had to outgrow one. Just like I think currently that I'll soon have to outgrow the other.

But do I? Do I really?

They go so well together.

Perhaps the real question is, what if they both don't wanna leave?

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years

Text

The Fall Of Cordonia

Chapter 1-There is a Season

Summary: The beginning of the aftermath of the attack.

Word Count:2208

Warning: Gun violence, death of major character and profanity.

Everyone who requested tags, This is going to be somewhat dark for a bit and if you read and decide its not for you, just let me know to remove you...I promise there will be no hurt feelings at all: @khakie4 @jemrmax2love @princess-geek @rainbowsinthestorm @annekebbphotography @ao719 @carabeth @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @lodberg @romanticatheart-posts @duchessemersynwalker @cordoniansqueen @burnsoslow @riseandshinelittleblossom @kimmiedoo5 @innerpostmentality @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @janezillow @cordoniantrash @jovialyouthmusic @dcbbw @moonlightgem7

Drake remembered the first time he saw her at a dive bar in New York. A charming waitress with a smile that instantly lit up the dark and dreary atmosphere. Her olive skin was so smooth, not a blemish to be seen and her eyes bounced with luring energy when she laughed.

Riley was the life of their group of friends, with an uncanny ability to bring out the best in everyone. She gave hope to a country and its people after decades wrought with mistrust in its nobility. When she loved, she did it with her whole heart, it was genuine and sincere, with fervent passion. Her adventurous spirit annoyed him to no end and captivated him at the same time. She could do anything, be anything and inspire anyone who had the privilege of knowing her.

Drake had fallen in love with her shortly after she arrived in Cordonia, yet, Riley's heart always belonged to one man, possibly from the very second they first laid eyes on one another. The love story of Liam and his Queen; is ardent and poetic, Shakespeare himself couldn't have written it better.

Drake stared in disbelief at the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, his friend, her gentle face stained in crimson and ash. Even in her condition, she still took his breath away. The sudden sense of tremendous loss struck every nerve in his body, yet, it paled in comparison to the shattering of his heart. A single tear fell as he recalled the derby during Liam's social season; he was hand picked to be her protector when Liam couldn't. Drake swallowed hard, his body trembling, realizing that, on this particular day, he had failed them both.

He carefully inched closer in an effort to remove her from the debris....he would be damned if he was going to leave her there alone.

Just as he was reaching for Riley's hand, Auvernal militants, started a second wave of attacks. Gunshots blared throughout the dark city that was only lit by residual fires from the first attack.

Drake darted up and scanned the perimeter; there were atleast a dozen soldiers, seemingly unhinged, shooting at anything that moved. Drake immediatly yelled back for an injured Maxwell to hide in the debris, however, the words barely left his lips, when he saw Maxwell struck down. A split second later, a familiar feeling, almost like deja-vu, ripped through him, tearing through skin and bone, flinging him backwards. Landing on remnants of broken wood and insulation, the burning in his shoulder was unbearable, though, agonizing over it, would most likely result in sudden death. He clung on, hoping they would soon leave, desperate to scream out curses of pain and consternation.

Two armed soldiers approach the patron that had previously assisted Drake in rescuing Maxwell earlier. With his arms above his head and identification gripped to one hand, they recognized him as an Auvernal official. Drake feigned being dead, as he peaked at the man who was now pointing at the rubble he rested on. The eyes of the soldiers widened in astonishment as they walked and maneuvered their way through the carnage, being led by the same man.

Drake laid as still as possible, making an exerted effort to cautiously not lose sight of their whereabouts. They hovered over Riley's body for a moment, examining her remains, before both men reached down, each grabbing one of her arms and pulling her out.

The first soldier, lifted her up and held her frail body in his arms as the other reached for the radio device attached to his collar, "Sir, this is Sargent Rosman with very good news...we have just found the Cordonian queen, she is alive, but, barely".

"No Shit, Sargent?..... Bring her back to the meeting point, Bradshaw is going to fucking love this."

Drake listened intently as the soldiers called on the rest to stand down and reconvene back to their post. He had thought for sure she was dead when he saw her and now, he just wanted more than anything to fight like hell to rescue her. If these soldiers successfully take her back, he shuttered to think of the evil that would be done to her....they had in their prized possession, the Queen of Cordonia. Drake, however, knew they would slaughter him for even making an attempt, if he actually lives through the gunshot wound. I have to get word to Liam.

When the last soldier was out of sight and the only noise that could be heard was the wails of sorrows and turmoil that echoed all around him, Drake eased himself up.

Clutching his shoulder in an attempt to stop his heavy bleeding, he gritted his teeth and removed his shirt, wadded it up and placed it on his wound.

Out of the corner of his vision, there laid Maxwell, motionless and void of life. Drake scrambled as much as his weakened body would allow to his long time friend. Of all of the fucking things in life he had witnessed, seeing the highly spirited Maxwell, gone, was too much. Maxwell was life, and yet, he no longer had it.

Drake crouched down beside him, emotionally numb and completely stricken with profound grief. His breath hitched loudly and hot tears rolled in steady streams down his face until forced from his chin and caught by the earth below. He shook his head, sobbing uncontrollably, trying to find the right words to express himself. With a muffled breath, full of anguish, "I'm so sorry Maxwell".

He fell back onto his backside, sitting next to his friend and rested a hand on Maxwell's face, pausing briefly, before slowly closing his wide open lids, shut. "You go and dance with your momma now, buddy".

A light drizzle began that enhanced the nip in the air and poured over Drake like stinging needles. The pain in his shoulder was immense, and the strong taste of bile and lonliness lodged in his throat. His pulse was weakening and his resolve was quickly fleeting. Drake's vision became blurry until suddenly, he could no longer go on. His body soon gave out and he crashed; his face resting soundly on the bloodied chest of Maxwell.

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

Sleeping on the sofa in his office, Bradshaw woke to his phone buzzing wildly on the end table beside him. He reached over his head, still laying flat on his back. He need a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare of the screen before answering.

Somewhat hazy in tone, "This better be important General".

Bradshaw listened intently before bolting into a upright position, "This is marvelous news....no, no....this changes things in a most delightful way.....have your medics treat her and then bring her to me....I have new plans for the queen.....".

Bradshaw rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood from the sofa. He stretched his aching body then walked to his desk, before taking his seat.

To himself, he wasn't an evil person, just finishing something his father started over 35 years ago. Its too bad, the sins of the father must haunt the son.

Proud of his accomplishment in defeating Constantine's child, he sat back in his chair contemplating his next move. His military was stronger, however, Cordonia had many, reliable allies that were sure to be displeased with his decision. He only hoped the funds would last long enough until a complete takeover of the neighboring country could be completed.

"Queen Riley...my newest pawn", he spoke to himself, "the plans I have for you my dear".

Bradshawn eagerly picked up his phone and called his General back.

"General Phillips, your majesty"

"Any word on King Liam's status?"

"My men did not find him in the palace and are searching the underground tunnels for a bunker, sir".

"Call them off, I want him left alive"

"But sir...."

"That's an order General, return all forces back to Auvernal and set up bases along the border at once".

"Yes sir".

Bradshaw paced the room for a moment in deep thought and an amused look on his face, "Let the games begin".

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

"Daddy!....Daddy!"

"Liam!.......help us please".

"Riley, Nikolas, I'm trying but I can't see you".

"LIAM......they're hurting us....LIAM!!"

"DADDY....make them stop!!!"

He could hear the screams and gnashing, but, couldn't find them. Once the silence began, they suddenly appeared before him, draped in death. He held their lifeless bodies against him before pulling a pistol from his pocket. He placed the cold hard steel to his temple and pressed the trigger with ease. The gunshot had no effect on him, he was still very much alive, so he tried again.....nothing.

"NO!", Liam jerked up from his bed in the bunker, sweat clinging with fervor to his face. His heart and breathing were so fast, he leaned over to a nearby waste basket and vomited heavily.

Bastien moved from his chair and stood at Liam's bedside with concern.

When Liam finished, he flopped back onto the bed and slung an arm over his eyes, still reeling from his nightmare.

Bastien hastily walked to a supply closet and grabbed a bottle of water, offering it to his King. "Your majesty, drink this".

Liam shook his head and wiped a fresh set of tears from his eyes and with a cracked voice, "Bastien, give me your side arm".

Bastien stood still, knowing what Liam's intentions were. He placed the water bottle on the bed beside him and turned to walk away.

"Bastien, I said to give me your fucking gun", he commanded loudly.

Bastien turned back around to face him, with a sympathetic look, " I'm sorry, your majesty.....I will give you protection....I will give you my loyalty and I would gladly give you my life....but....I will never give you my gun".

Liam lunged from the bed with anger and spite, attacking Bastien with one blow to his body after another. Liam was suffering from grief and a major hangover that diminished his strength considerably.

Like lightning, Bastien flipped him around so that Liam's back was facing him now and he held his arms around him tightly, keeping him in check.

Liam struggled to get away, kicking and screaming obsenities at him. The other two guards began to approach, however, Bastien's steely eyes pierced through them and they understood their place.

After nearly a minute of attempting to fight Bastien off, the adrenaline reached its peak and his clouded judgement slowly lifted from his mind.

Liam fell limp in Bastien's arms; still clinging tightly to him, Bas lowered himself with Liam to the floor. Liam's head rested on Bastien's chest and he began to sob.

"Bastien....I can't do this.....my wife and my baby are gone....my country, my people are destroyed....I just want to die with them".

For the first time since he was a child, Bastien could no longer keep his emotions in. He continued to hold onto Liam, comfortingly, and cried with him.

"If I may, your majesty...Liam...I don't know all the answers and I don't know how in the hell you can possibly move on from this. All I know is that right now you have got to find a way to look deep inside of yourself and find your father. He never let his enemy win and you can't either. I'll be damned if I let MY king and MY country end in defeat....You ARE Cordonia, Liam and your people need you."

"I can't do it Bas, I don't even want to live without Riley and Nik", he cried out.

Bastien clung on to him tighter and leaned down to his ear, "We don't know for certain they are gone and if there is even the smallest chance they are out there, you have to do everything in your power to bring them home and fight for your people".

Liam sat up from Bastien's grip and slumped over, wiping the wetness from his face, "Do you really think there is a chance they survived?"

Bastien took a deep breath, he didn't want to give him false hope, but, he needed to give him something to hold onto, "Drake and Mara was with them, she may very well be hidden somewhere also. We don't know, but, we have to do everything we can to find out".

Liam slowly pulled himself up, his mind starting to settle down. He pulled the picture of himself, Riley and the baby from his pocket and glarred at it lovingly, allowing the words to take over his heart. Finding a new found hope and mission; I'll never let you go Riley.

"Bastien....we have to find my family.....and kill that son of a bitch".

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

Leo stumbled from the bed, naked and feeling like shit. He licked his dry lips, still tasting like the pussy he ate from the two strange women passed out in his bed.

He ran his hands over his face and made his way to the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth.

When he finished, Leo sat back on the bed and grabbed his cell from the nightstand. His stunned eyes focused on the alerts that had flashed from various news sources. Frozen, he read and reread one story after the other. He frantically called and texted Liam, Riley and Bastien with no a response. He called Liam's direct line to his office and the call couldn't be connected.

He became bloodthirsty for revenge as he searched for another number and dialed it.

"This is Leo Rhys...I want the first flight you have to Auvernal".

#liam x mc #the royal heir #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance drake #drake walker #trr drake #trr liam #liam x riley #trr liam x mc #king liam

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superfreakerz · 7 years

Text

FT 3

"Fairy Tail"

Rated M for eventual smut.

Summary: Lucy Ashley was nothing more than a twenty year old living in the slums of Seattle until she was teleported into another world by a book of fairy tales. Or what she thought were just fairy tales. Now she's traveling with a dragon slayer and a flying cat to return everyone's happy endings in order to return home. But by the end of their journey, would she want to?

Read chapters 1-75 on FF.net

A Pinkette and a Blue Cat

When Lucy gained consciousness again in the early morning, she sat up quickly and clutched her head, which was still aching from whatever happened earlier. Her body felt heavy like lead, so instead of standing up, the blonde decided to take in her surroundings. To her surprise, she was no longer in her bedroom. Now, she was in a forest thick with trees.

Trees were all Lucy could see. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, the blonde realized that the polluted air of Seattle was replaced with air so fresh, she felt as though the world had restarted.

"W-Where am I?" Lucy asked aloud, tears gathering in her eyes. "This isn't possible. I've gotta be dreaming or something because I was just in my bed!"

All she had with her was her blanket, her keys, and the book she was reading when the strange hot flashes began. What exactly happened to her? Did somebody take her from her room and leave her out here? That would explain why she was suddenly in the forest. But who would take her? And what were those strange hot flashes?

Suddenly, there was a snap of a twig and Lucy clasped her hand over her mouth in order to suppress a scream. What if it was a murderer? With a newfound swiftness, the girl grabbed her things and dashed behind a tree to hide. Sure enough, the faint sound of footsteps grew louder.

"Sheesh, I'm hungry," a voice whined. It was a boy.

"Me too," someone else replied.

Despite Lucy only hearing one pair of footsteps, there were two people. Perhaps one was carrying the other?

"We should stay here tonight and get some food."

"Aye! As long as they have fish!"

The other boy chuckled before their footsteps stopped. Lucy held back a whimper, feeling like they knew she was there. Why else would they randomly stop just a few feet away from her?`

"What is this, Happy?" the first man asked.

"I don't know," the other answered.

"Whoa, it opens. Is this a lacrima or something?"

"Who cares, I want fish!"

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the footsteps begin again as the two left. When she opened her eyes again, onyx eyes were staring into her chocolate brown orbs. A bloodcurdling scream escaped the blonde's throat as she pushed the person away and tried to sink into the tree she was sitting against.

"Oww! What the hell was that for!?" the man asked irately.

"Leave me alone!" she cried. "I-If you're trying to kill me, you got another thing coming! I know karate!"

"Sheesh, I was just gonna see if this lacrima thing was yours."

Lucy opened her eyes to see what exactly a lacrima was to find a man sitting in front of her with cherry-blossom pink hair. His eyes were dark, slanted and big while his skin was tanned. He wore baggy white pants and a strange opened coat with only one sleeve. He wore nothing underneath, revealing his toned abs. Around his neck was a scaly scarf, reminding her of her blanket.

"W-Who are you?" Lucy asked.

The boy grinned, revealing that he had some rather sharp teeth, and answered, "Natsu Dragneel! And this is Happy!"

"Happy?" Lucy repeated, following his pointed finger to find a blue cat with wings flying at her side. She released another scream and shoved the mutated cat away from her. "W-Why the hell can he fly!? Is he mutated from pollution or something!?"

Scientists must have been experimenting on cats. That was the only explanation for a blue flying cat.

"Hey, that was rude!" the cat cried. "I'm not mutated, I'm an exceed!"

"YOU CAN TALK!?"

"Aye!"

Lucy stared at the two strangers with wide eyes and covered her mouth with her hands. Part of her wanted to run. She was so frightened of the two in front of her, she felt like they were going to eat her for breakfast. And she still had no idea where she was.

"This can't be happening," she said to herself. "I must be dreaming because there is no way in hell a talking cat exists." Pinching herself, the girl frowned. "Shit. This is real!? Where the hell am I!?"

Natsu covered his ears and glared at the strange girl. "You sure are loud. Anyways, what is this thing?"

Lucy arched a brow as Natsu held up her cell phone. "You mean my phone?"

"Phone?" the boy repeated. "What's that?"

"You're messing with me, aren't you!"

"Why would I be messing with you? You are weird though."

Lucy smacked the guy upside the head and shouted, "That's rude! And how do you not know what a phone is?"

Natsu rubbed the soon to be bruised spot and answered, "I've seen all kinds of lacrimas, but not this one before. Did you make it?"

"No… Whatever, this doesn't matter. Where are we exactly?"

"We're on the outskirts of Shirotsume."

"Shirotsume? I've never heard of that town before."

"You haven't? It's a pretty small town but most people know it. Are you not from Fiore?"

"Fiore?" Lucy repeated, feeling even more panicked than before. "Where's that?"

Natsu raised a brow and answered, "The country we're in right now."

Lucy's breath hitched in her throat. "C-Country? We aren't in America!?"

"America?" Happy repeated. "Never heard of it!"

"B-But it's one of the most well-known countries on Earth!"

"Earth? You mean Earthland?"

"No, Earth!"

Natsu and Happy shared a confused look.

"This is Earthland," Natsu stated. "We're in the country of Fiore, outside the town of Shirotsume. We don't know where America or Earth is."

"There's a hotel in Shirotsume," Happy told the shaking girl. "You should stay there and get some sleep!"

"I-I don't need sleep, I need to go home," Lucy whimpered. "W-What are you guys doing here?"

Natsu perked up and answered, "I'm looking for my dad, Igneel! I traced his smell all the way here! I haven't smelled him in so long and now I found it! Have you seen him?"

"No, I haven't. Sorry. Wait, you traced his smell here? How is that even possible?"

Natsu cocked his head to the side as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm a dragon slayer," he stated with a hint of cockiness.

Lucy scoffed. "Now I know you're messing with me. Dragons aren't real."

The boy glowered at her, his cheery expression now gone, and replied, "Yes they are. Don't tell me they ain't real when Igneel raised me!"

"You're telling me that your dad was a dragon? C'mon, if you're going to lie to me you could at least come up with a good lie."

"It's the truth! Igneel is a dragon and I'm a dragon slayer! That's how I knew you were here, I smelled you!"

Lucy crossed her arms and shouted, "Dragons aren't real!" She needed to at least have some control in her rather hopeless situation. Besides, she wasn't fond of some stranger belittling her, telling her dragons exist.

"Yes they are!" Natsu shot back, his body engulfed in flames.

Lucy screamed and tried to back away, only to remember she was leaning on a tree. Soon enough, the flames died down, revealing a scowling but unscathed Natsu.

"H-How did you do that?" the blonde questioned with significantly wide eyes. She felt like her head was going to explode.

"Like I said, I'm a dragon slayer," he answered. "Let's go, Happy! We've gotta find Igneel! I can still smell him, he's close!"

"Aye!" the cat replied, flying to follow his friend.

Natsu stood up and sniffed the air. His brows shot up and he turned to face Lucy with wide eyes. Then he glared at her.

"You lied to me," he said.

"W-What?" Lucy questioned.

"You said you've never met Igneel before but you're covered in his scent! Where is he!?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the blonde cried, tears falling from her eyes once again. "I don't know any of this! I just woke up in a country I've never heard of, saw a flying cat, and now saw a guy light himself on fire without getting burned!"

Natsu reeled back from the girl's sudden volume before his eyes landed on the blanket next to her.

"Where did you get that blanket?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"The blanket. Where did you get it?"

"I-I don't know, it was apparently wrapped around me when I was found in the forest when I was a baby."

"You were found in the forest as a baby?" Happy questioned. "Is that your thing? Waking up in forests?"

"Shut up, cat. Anyways, why are you so curious about my blanket?" Lucy asked Natsu, who was staring at it with hard eyes.

"It was made with Igneel's scales," Natsu replied. "Like my scarf. That must be why you smell like Igneel. How did you know him?"

"I didn't. And I'm sorry, but there's no way that this blanket was made from a dragon's scales. Your little fire act was impressive, but that doesn't mean dragons exist."

Natsu smirked before releasing a breath of fire to engulf the blonde, who waved her arms frantically around.

"Don't worry, I made it so it won't hurt you," he said, cackling after. "That's your punishment for saying dragons aren't real."

"I take it back, now put it out!" Lucy squealed. Once Natsu obliged, she released a sigh of relief. "Okay, since I'm not dreaming, I am in Earthland, correct?" The two nodded. "And Earthland is this world?"

"Yep!" the two answered in unison.

"And that fire trick you did, what was that?" Lucy asked.

"Magic!" Natsu answered with a wide grin.

"M-Magic? No way… Okay, so I'm in a new world that has no technology, has magic, and apparently dragons. So how the hell did I end up here?"

"What happened before you got here?" Happy asked.

"I was reading this book I got and-"

Lucy's words stopped as her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes widened. "Wait a second… The book I'm reading is about fairy tales and there is magic there… Is it possible I'm…"

Frantically grabbing the book, the blonde flipped through the pages, looking for any possible clues. Then, she got to the last page.

"What is it?" Natsu asked, confused by the strange girl's random behavior.

Happy snatched the book, seeing that Lucy was too stunned to speak, and read the page aloud.

"One day, the savior will create a portal," he began, "and teleport back into this world. It is her job to break the curse, bringing back everyone's happy ever afters one by one. In order to return to the world she came from, the savior will first need to go through each story and bring back the characters' happiness."

"Wait a second," Natsu started, "is it talking about the curse King Heartfilia put on the kingdom?"

"Sounds like it!" Happy replied with wide eyes. They then looked to Lucy. "Then that means…"

"You're the savior," Natsu finished for the exceed, staring at the blonde girl who had yet to speak.

Lucy stayed silent, staring at her hands in confusion and shock. She was a savior? All the Disney movies were actually real and were part of another world? And now she was a part of it?

"The only way I can get home is to go through each story, isn't it?" she asked in a low whisper.

"Looks that way," Natsu answered. He grinned at the distraught girl and continued, "We'll help you!"

"You will?" Lucy asked, staring into his eyes with hope.

"Yeah! You're the savior, so helping you would be a good thing! Besides, I've gotta figure out where you got that blanket from, so the three of us are going to be traveling together for a while!"

"Aye! We'll stay here today so that you can rest!" Happy added.

Lucy's bottom lip quivered as she stared at the two in front of her, grateful that she would have some companions to help her out. Standing up, the blonde dusted off her skirt and smiled at her new friends.

"Well, let's go!"

#fairy tail #nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #ftfanfiction #ft

9 notes · View notes

daxdraggon · 7 years

Note

HII i just wanted to say that I love ur mcreyes tag &have been living in it for the past two weeks basically lmao but like, I wanted to ask if u could expand on the alien mccree hc? omg i rly loved it and I'm just,, so v interested? pls write smth for it, but only if u want to

-breaks fingers- Let me write u a thing. This is going to be short, and probably not going to go anywhere, but gOSH I’m so glad you like my Alien!McCree~

IDK which alien mccree prompt you were talking about since I have... maybe two or three different ideas on how it would play out? But here ya go buddy prepare for a trip to feels town.

(also, just a hint of platonic mcreyes)

Jesse McCree’s mama always told him he was a gift from the stars. He always thought it was just stories to make him and his twin brother feel important, like they had a destiny to fulfill. She filled their heads with stories of blue giants with two tongues and beautiful wings like a cicada. They came riding on horses made of metal, sleek and coppery, their eyes glowing and hooves rumbling the sky like thunder. Jesse believed it for a while, his brother quickly moved on.

20 years have gone by, the stories of the stars faded in his memory. He stares up at them resenting. He was supposed to be special, but his home had been taken away by Omnics, his brother run away to another country. Blackwatch finally gave him the funds to help his mother, put her up somewhere nice. She refused to leave the desert, stubborn in her old age that her lover would return to her. Jesse made her move anyways.

Things are different now. He has a new family, the agents of Blackwatch, and his commander who’s dragged Jesse out of hell just to pull him though the deeper pits of it himself. He long moved on past the thought of himself being something interstellar, that he was human, plain and simple. The people around him seemed to think otherwise. His commander thought his gift, Deadeye, was something otherwordly. Captain Amari doubted it’s humanity as well. After all, a human shouldn’t be able to see better than an Omnic, should he. Everything was crystal clear, even in the darkest dustiest settings he found no problem navigating.

That’s where he found himself, on a mission in Cambodia. Part of the building had collapsed, crushing some poor agents and the targets they were after, but leaving Jesse leading the rest of his party, and his Commander, out of the dusty crumbling hallways. He couldn’t understand how they would constantly trip on the rubble, practically running into walls without Jesse’s guidance. But his sight couldn’t allow him to see the future. Before he knew it Reyes was shouting to scatter, and suddenly there was open fire, with Jesse in the middle. He felt bullets pass through him, before a sudden flash of fire, and then darkness...

He woke to bright white, tucked tightly into a hospital bed, his arms and legs restrained. Reyes sat beside him, curled up like a gargoyle, ever watching. He hadn’t showered, still covered in grime and blood. His shirt was stained green.

“Boss?” Reyes looked away, swallowing and breathing before looking back at McCree.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” it sounded accusatory, like Jesse had betrayed him. He sounded... hurt.

“I didn’t know they were gonna rush us sir. I’m sorry, I couldn’t see um comin’.” Reyes shook his head, dragging his fingers over his face.

“Not that.” he made eye contact with Jesse again and this time he could feel it. He could feel those eyes boring into his soul, searching him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Tell me what you are? I could have protected you from this...” his commander’s voice dripped in worry, in pain. Jesse’s mind reeled, eyebrows knit in confusion.

“What... what do you mean what I am? I’m an agent, I’m... human? Is that what-” Reyes stood suddenly, causing Jesse to jump. That’s when he felt the restraints for what they really were. He looked down in a panic as Reyes hand went to the edge of the blanket and pulled it back, revealing Jesse’s chest. At least... maybe it was his chest.

“What the hell is this then McCree? This sure as shit ain’t human. I watched the holes in your body seal right back up in seconds! You don’t have a god damn scratch on you!” he pulled at the green stain on his shirt. “This, this is yours McCree. Your blood. Tell me again how this is human!” Jesse was stunned, he felt as if he was going to astral project to some other state of being just to escape the sudden stress he was being put under by his commander’s questioning. He was brought back by the wet feeling of tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t... I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on I’m- I’m sorry commander I don’t know.” he wanted to curl up on himself, pulling on the restraints enough for it to hurt. He inhaled sharply before gurgling into sobs. He didn’t understand what was happening, he was human, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?

Rough hands gently wiped away his tears, he could hear his commander shushing him, sounding rueful. “I’m sorry Jesse, I... I don’t know either. I’m sorry I lashed out at you for it.” He heard a small beep, before his restraints retracted and his arms and legs were free.

It was after he was examined throughally by Doctor Angela, that he finally got to look at himself in the mirror. His entire left side was soft green flesh, speckling over to his right in dots where his skin was riddled with bullets. He flexed his fingers, tiled in a sensitive blue shell. He noticed it seemed to be growing from the rest of him as well. Jesse felt sore, like he was young again, having a growth spurt. Glancing back up started him, as his eyes had changed. They seemed darker, larger. He felt himself start to panic again, before Reyes had come in.

Startled for the 3rd time that day, he turned around at attention. Reyes seemed startled as well, finally seeing all of Jesse and his changes. They stood in silence, staring at one another for what seemed like ages before they both started to talk, stopping to let the other go.

“I’m removing you from active duty... until we figure out what’s going on.” Reyes started, his knuckles going white from the grip he had on his clipboard. Jesse relaxed, nodding in agreement. His commander was nervous, they both were.

“That’s... good. I- will ya sit with me?” McCree asked, voice shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself. His chitinous fingers felt cold, wrong. Reyes exhaled and nodded, moving to sit on Jesse’s bed alongside him. Jesse drew his knees to his chest with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier... for accusing you of hiding this from me. You didn’t know-”

“I think I do know. I mean... maybe.” Jesse interrupted, causing his commander to stare at him in confusion. “My ma always said my pa was from space. I thought it was just, stories to make me feel better ‘n all ‘bout not havin’ my pa around... but me lookin’ like this now? I look jus like the stories she told me.” he frowned before rubbing his suddenly sore jaw. He flinched as he hand came back with scaps of skin stuck to it. He quickly shook them off with a shiver before Reyes took his chin in his hands to look at Jesse’s face.

“It looks like you’re shedding like some lizard.” he easily pulled off a piece of skin that was hanging loose before dropping it in the small trashbucket by Jesse’s bed. He glanced back up at Jesse, his eyes calmer, empathetic. The cowpoke couldn’t help but move to bury himself in Reyes’ chest, wrapping his arms around the man. His commander embraced him back, stroking his agent’s hair gently.

“So...” Reyes murmured, pulling back to look down at McCree again. “You’re an alien then, is what you’re telling me.” he smugly ruffled Jesse’s hair, causing him to giggle.

“Yeah I guess so.” he shrugged, leaning into Reyes’ touch.

“Jesse McCree of Mars. That’s what I’m calling you now kid.” his commander joked, Jesse simply rolled his eyes.

“Y’know funnily ‘nough, that’s where ma said pa came from.”

#alien!mccree #drabble #overwatch #jesse mccree #platonic #mcreaper #mcreyes #Anonymous

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