#it's just. it's the softness that never stops flooring me. the absolutely indomitable softness that can | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psalloacappella · 4 years

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Red (oneshot)

Title: Red Pairing: SasuSaku legit i don’t write anything else Word Count: 3400~ Rating: E, for like explicit, not for everyone. NSFW. Ya get it. Tags/What you’ll see: Sakura getting the office and oral she deserves

Summary: An old dress, a new office — Uchiha Sasuke offers regards to both.

Ao3 | FFN | ↓

(I have to preface when I post this that my top-tier amazing friend convinced me to do so and reminded me not to delete it this morning in the cold sober dawn lol. I consider this absolutely self-indulgent)

“Ah, Sakura?”

Jade eyes alight and ringed with red, her subordinate regrets interrupting what seems to be a bout of sickness or sadness; she’s been busy lately. They all are.

Spine bent in bass clef camber, in exhaustion, she straightens at his words into a ramrod illustration of diligence. Over scrolls and haphazard paperwork, empty mugs sitting in their own fossilized dregs, she snatches up a fountain pen to preserve her dignity and reputation. At her age she’s been handed enormous tasks that she only imagined in her wildest dreams, and most of those, in the past, were of love and marriage and not the nightmares and duties which replaced them.

Extreme stress manifests in mysterious and chaotic ways; she intuitively knows this, especially today, as she basks in the quiet glances, the way their eyes follow her long, long legs leading into ankles in heels that feel like cages. Her choice of a dress underneath her white coat today feels like a wanton beacon, but her battle reputation precedes her, legendary and terrifying; no one will dare blithely approach legs like those or earn the ire of her dangerous hands, so delicate until they’re crushing mountains and throats.

Electricity, a buzzing in the marrow of her bones; she taps the pen on the desk in a stilted rhythm.

She regards the young medic with a hazy gaze for a moment, then waves a hand. “Sorry, I’m just—”

He steps over the threshold; Sakura raises her chin, lips taut.

“No no, I’m sorry,” he insists. Under her bright eyes he feels the beginnings of idiocy and bumbling; his boss makes him tongue-tied, stupid. Younger than him, in a league of her own as she stands at shoulders with new legends; lethal, inured to all the stories about herself.

He notices the ochre on her lips like an invitation.

“I wouldn’t come too close today,” she says. Grants him a demure smile, the type that doesn’t quite fool her friends but still works with fools like him. “I’m not feeling the best. It could be contagious, and that wouldn’t be helpful to our operations right now.”

“Yes, of course.” Agreeing, nodding fervently with the obedience of a particularly compliant breed of dog. “If I may — you work so much. Too young to be feeling so tired.”

A laugh, it bubbles — starts from her chest as a giggle and drips from her lips as honey. Makes her quake, mottled red seeping through the skin of her chest as a sieve, collarbones sharp.

She looks feverish; she looks like a dream.

In turn she struggles to keep the waver out of her voice, knowing she’s lit up as fulgent as rouge festival lanterns and there's no way to kill the current.

I’ll never live this down — have to get him out of here

The cough she musters up is weak and if this was Ino, or gods forbid, her teacher, they’d call it pathetic. For a young man trapped in her sphere of admiring attraction, it does nothing but induce sympathy. But her legs are shaking, the situation is dire, and she’s loath to have another round of torrid rumor on the flapping lips of civilians and staff.

“Ah!”

At her cry, she lets her temple fall into her hand and her subordinate rushes forward. Gasping, she raises her other one, trembling.

“No, please. That sounded worse than it was. Just a headache coming on. In fact,” she rasps, “if you can let Shizune know I’ll be taking the next hour to recoup? A nap, maybe that’ll help.”

“I don’t know if I can leave you like this.” His tentative step earns her sharp gaze again, pursed lips that start his mind wandering in a way that makes him blush. Physically shaking his head to clear it, he nods slowly, finally, backing out of the doorway.

The hollow sound of Sakura’s kneecap hitting the underside of the desk rings in the space. Her gullible underling starts forward again, but the foreboding slap of her hand on the desk stops him cold. Acute, like it’s one to the face.

Sakura brings her knees together, swift, crushing his damn near regal bone structure and the handsome high bridge of his nose between the muscle of her thighs. A warning.

She glances down at him, he’s slicked with sweat — the glimpse of his glittering black eye and swirling purple one bring her too close to a wave she can’t indulge; she’s still this unwanted visitor’s boss until he closes the fucking door.

“Just me being clumsy! Do as I’ve asked and let her know, and,” here her breath hitches, hand leaving the desk, fingers burying themselves in dark messy hair, “th-thank you for worrying. I appreciate it.”

She’ll pay for the smile she gives this man, a sparkle of hope, like he’ll ever earn his boss’s favor in that way, as if he’ll measure up in any lifetime to the man that has her heart, the man on his knees under her desk.

“Sure. I mean,” horrified at his own too-familiar tone, “of course, right away, ma’am. Miss. I—”

“Oh go now. ” It stutters out in jete musical meter, resembling pain — or other things. “Please.”

She doesn’t have to tell him to close the door, though she’s surprised he didn’t find another excuse to stay with her. Oh, he has it bad. But there’s no time to think —

Sinking into her chair, her hands grip the armrests with an intensity that forces music from them, cracking underneath her fingers. And now all the words of the last few minutes tumble from her lips, an unintelligible medley of curses and pleas cradling the half-formed shell of his name.

Without warning, she yanks him back by the hair and almost comes right there: His eyes scalding her, the mess on his stupid and incredibly fuckable face, a talented and dangerous mouth settling into a smirk as he thumbs an errant bit of her off his lip.

“That was close. Ah, so are you.”

He says it with such smugness and vanity. Quivering in her office chair under nothing but his stare, still in the grips of the unrelenting buzz and hum he’s enticed, and he absolutely notices.

“One of these days, we’ll be caught!” Tries to sound stern even as he rolls his neck and shoulders with a pithy nonchalance. “Stop that. So arrogant, preening like that—”

“Me? That’s rich.” He lazily trails a finger from her swollen, hot clit to her opening, lingering and lush to force all the heat and sounds he’s craving — her fingernails dig into her thigh while the pallor of her skin and dress seep and marry, reflections of one another. “Why did you wear this, Sakura?” Nudges the fabric with his nose, and she mumbles something hazy under his resumed touch; lost in orbit, in a void, in a place unearthly.

He starts the routine again, pressing his mouth to the inside of her thigh. Frowns at the irritating strip of fabric that constitutes clothing; it’s been twisted and pushed aside anyway. Her skin burning against his face, a lean cord of muscle taut underneath her pale skin. Vaguely threatening, but she’s yet to crush him to death and he’s on the second round of bringing her there and back again, and close calls such as those seem to stoke something smoldering. Some days, it feels like the only thing worth pulling himself out of bed for.

He fucks like he fights: Relentless, consuming. But that essential difference for the former is he never gives an inch; here, he pours it all in, something like an endless apology. Maybe she knows and that’s why she wears the red dress he won’t admit he prefers and paints her lips and runs the entirety of this village hospital system with grace and her own brand of gentle ascendancy — why he’s desperate for just the ragged edge of danger.

One of her legs shudders, the frenzied tap-tap-tap of her heel stammering against the floor in a cadence fit for instruments. “Sasuke-kun.”

Between the presses of his lips leading a hot, agonizing march back to her core, an arrogant noise in his throat escapes, rich and amused. “So this — is your new office?”

“Mmm,” she confirms, still clinging to the chair. The only support she has; the room’s spinning and every cell is vibrating, pink eyebrows knitted as she fights to remain upright and solid and somewhat human because the door’s not locked and she knows he knows, knows he doesn’t care and frankly neither, really, does she. Melting like basalt in unending, stifling heat.

Calloused fingers walk up the soft skin of her calf, catching and searing, sundering the delicate layer where they brush to release the pent-up steam underneath.

He’s fire; she is earth.

Always, all of him ablaze — possessive in its own discipline but a thing begging for taming. He builds the pyre here, as he has been for the last hour or so, to focus himself, patiently coaxing it into something chaotic but fruitful. Lately all he’s felt is the joyless, sober embodiment of a tool to be used though perhaps this is the same, a compulsion by any other name.

But it can’t be, not with her looking like this. Striding down her hallways with purpose while bending the horrors and ills of the world to her indomitable will. Certainly this dress is no accident, as it never is, not with him coming off a mission full of blood and necessary evil.

Dragging the thin, sorry excuse for fabric down the burning skin of her leg, Sasuke’s tongue finds her clit with terrifying precision and rips a moan from her throat, pulling a jerk of her hips against his mouth. The shockwave shared, vibrating as wires intertwined, a forcible current.

Leans back, takes her in: Her trembling, knuckles white from the fatal grip on the arms of the chair, knees sinking inward toward one another. The sight of this rich red dress against the stark, starched white of her coat blending with the mottled pinks and crimsons painting her cheeks and chest. Unraveling before him, extraordinary, even while this space belongs to her.

This, sometimes, feels like undeserved forgiveness.

Because she is always, always in living color.

Adjusts his own knees, shifts, a catch of air in his throat as he accommodates the hard length of his own caged cock. They’re no stranger to claiming desks and other surfaces as their own, but she has strings on him and there's authority in here now, where she holds men at the door with a flicker of her gentle jade eyes borne of the grueling process which created her.

Sliding the useless fabric into his pocket, raises his chin to her. Stares as she bites her lip and struggles for composure, though it’s difficult under the gaze of a man like this.

He waits, and the only sounds are ragged breathing from both.

“Please,” she whispers. Quivering, even at the ask. “Before someone comes back.”

“You worry so much,” he says. “Relax.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“What did I tell you,” he hisses, “about apologies?”

She blinks, startled, and her lips part. A sparkle, a brilliance emerging in her eyes as she clenches and unclenches her fingers. Still, they shake a bit, the anticipation and remnants of the rise and current before still lingering, lying in wait. Predatory. A wetness floods to her lips and she swallows it down, leveling her eyes to his glittering, savage gaze.

With a deep inhale, she spreads herself before him, knees apart. Blushing invisible, lost in the red that’s already dappled every inch of her, she exhales the rest of her timidity with an edged, sharp expression and hopes she’s being clear—

Sakura just barely glimpses the fierce red in his gaze before he answers with his tongue, deft, ardent, and divine.

Breaking the chair arms beneath her delicate hands again, scrabbling to stay on the beautiful planet before it turns her loose. Sinking, again, the boundaries of atoms dissolving — they are nowhere but bliss.

Like before, the careful building of a fire, the agonizing escalation: He drops a kiss here, employs a firm tongue there, skirting the easy option in favor of the tease as he peels her back, layer by layer. Running it the length of her slit, heart skipping a bit at the dangerous quake of her thigh muscle; how long it's taken to differentiate between pleasure and impending crush. Again, the sensation of crawling into the den of something prized and feral. He feels it, her writhing and the pace and canter of her breathing and she’s liquid gold, fucking melting —

Her hips jerk, hard, when his tongue swirls around her clit, the cry coming from her jagged as broken glass and trembling like music, all things that make his own situation difficult to manage but he will, because these sounds entrench him firmly in reality. Alive. Knees screaming on the hardwood floor, unyielding as his cock cradled only by fabric and not as he wishes, by her hands or her red, red lips like the kind she’s wearing now.

Instead he slows her down again, pendulum swings between teasing and a furious rhythm that coaxes the full spectrum of human sounds from her beautiful throat. Rewarded for it with a whiny gasp as if breaking the surface of water, mingling with his own as he catches his breath. The end of it careens into words, something rough, he’s not even quite sure what he’s saying but he imagines, neither does she.

This—fucking dress—!

Nice, isn’t it?

Gets you attention

But only from you, S-Sasuke-kun

And her hand lands on his head again, thin fingers yanking his hair and guiding him as he splays her open, lays her bare. His name never quite fully leaves her lips, dancing with fragments of alternating pleas and curses. Just for that, for something he’d never thought he’d ever hear in his life, he grimly knows he’d write a fucking sonnet just to hear her like this — and with his tongue, he does, or at least approximates. The tremors of her shift deeper now, approaching release; she’s so slick it feels vile, indulgence in sin. All of which is smeared on his lips, his face, tasting of tang and salt; how many times has he been told he’s selfish? Guilty. Greedy, too, as he pauses to breathe—

looking up at her, he has an idea but can’t possibly know the extent of this, how she’s absolutely wrung out and beyond this dimension, hell, this galaxy, every inch of her humming in tune with the universe and brimming with absolute, inescapable heat, muscles taut and and begging for climax. Though the soft edges of her green eyes that see through him and everything else, rolling back, mouth open and lips parted in mimeo of an oracle, sunken in the weight of divinity, might give him some clue.

Don’t stop, please—!

— he’s there, with his fingers buried and soaked and deep, playing that just-right rhythm with a thumb on her clit that’s been worked to the edge and back again over the span of her busy afternoon. Hairs part from his scalp without remorse; her nails scrabbling and fingers clinging as she prays and sighs and curses occasionally, quietly, into the limp back of her hand. As if she’s really still trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism in the throes of being launched into orbit.

So very close. He knows by the slightly erratic rhythm, the pulsating of muscles inside and out and around him, tight and he steals a quick breath to endure and ease his fingers out to redouble effort with his mouth because the way she’s sounding, that sharp icy note on the ragged edge of pleasure and pain, tends to be the signal, the tipping point. The tremor her free hand sends through the bones of the chair. Knees apart as far as she can manage and desperately meeting him at the hilt —

Steady through until the end.

Release comes as glass shattering, atoms splitting. Unintelligible words trapped in amber, in a moment, in desire. With a mouth full of fire, he rides it with her through every wave, persisting through her slow and ebbing tumble back down to earth. To him.

He leans back at last, groaning at the pain in his knees. Watches her tremble and twitch, wringing out the very last dregs of her orgasm, displacing everything coherent left in her head.

Seconds stretch into minutes, and he gets to his feet as she languishes in a pool of pleasure, steeping as scalding tea.

At some point her hand rises to her own lips, limp and wavering, to clean her own unabashed drippings with an expression of dizzy surprise. The white dissipates from her vision and she finds his eyes on her again, one still richly red in its sole mission of memorizing the glowing after.

“Oh.” That’s all she says, breathless.

Sasuke brings fingers across his own mouth, rolls his jaw side to side, and something about his expression of smug satisfaction resonates, strings of a plucked instrument, a pull again of desire that threatens to ruin the sanctity of this brand new office and the role that comes with it.

For a moment she leverages the chair to rise, then loses strength — she lowers herself back in it, arms still quaking.

She reaches for him, plucking at his shirt. Hair flyaway, askew from her frenzied fingers, still in his mission gear.

Yanking him down by the collar, she crashes her mouth against his, red and hot, the tang and taste of herself immiscible with his own. Whatever sound he makes, this growl or rumble or ache, splits them open.

What pulls them apart is the grating sound of their former sensei’s voice: “I heard from a bird that someone in here was sick?”

Sasuke feels them in the room now and pulls away. Half-turns, finds himself leaning on her desk in a way that’s almost too casual, but necessary — his knees are shot through. Sakura smiles too widely, masking a secret; after all, both still feel the pinpricks of liquids drying in the new air.

“From your darling subordinate,” Kakashi twinkles, grinning underneath his mask.

“That one who follows you around like a puppy,” Naruto supplies, pouting.

Kakashi tilts his head toward him, both still lingering over the threshold. “Terrible, hm?”

Naruto misses the jibe and instead turns his wide ocean eyes on her new space. Whistles. “Man, Sakura-chan, this office is niiice. I’m jealous.”

“You’ll be in your new one soon enough,” she says, and there she is, her usual self. “I have faith. Anyway, this office comes with responsibility.”

“Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“He was under the impression you were sick. Looking at you now, though,” and here Kakashi pauses in a manner all too deliberate, eyes sweeping over Sasuke’s cloak and belongings in a chair, and ends it with looking right at him, “you seem all right. Exhausted, I imagine.”

Her flush threatens to undo them both.

“He’s . . . sweet. To care.”

“He’s a fool,” Sasuke mutters.

“Perfect, you’re dressed nice,” Naruto crows. “How did you know we’d come make you celebrate? You didn’t eat, I bet you didn’t!” He eyes Sasuke up and down, at his unusually ruffled appearance, and clicks his tongue. “You didn’t even go home first, did you? Shitty boyfriend.”

The damage he committed on his recent mission pales in comparison to the crimes Sasuke wants to indulge now.

“Anyway, we’ll wait out here. After all,” Kakashi says, inclining his head, “this is your space now.”

Sakura exhales long and slow as they step out into the hallway. Covering her face with her hands, she groans. “No matter my job, I’ll never escape embarrassment, huh?”

Standing at last, she readjusts her clothes and kisses the underside of Sasuke’s chin. She reaches for his pocket and he moves easily out of her grasp.

“Sasuke-kun!”

“Pointless now. I’ll keep it.”

No matter what time, season, dimension, he regards all of her — the dress, the lips that held their color, the new flush simmering on her neck and chest — and craves, endeavors, to always love her red.

#sasusaku #psalloacappella #sasusakufanfic #smut #sasusaku smut #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #sorry it's shameless #whatever ya'll #give me good head or give me death

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

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Stay Safe Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! I will apologize for word count, but I will never apologize for length...or girth. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @helplessly-nonstop @toxiicpop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst @kylolover96 @crownofmanga @eli-bourne @lackofhonor @talesfromtheguild

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

He was silent for quite a while and you were loathe to break it, sitting on the edge of the co-pilot seat with the harness secured loosely around you. A force of habit, more than anything.

He appeared to be studying the various star charts, flipping back and forth between two particular ones to select the shortest route to the next destination. You were still uncertain as to why he had requested your presence; your navigational skills were bare-bones compared to his, so that couldn't be it.

"You remember what I said about the button on the comlink?" The Mandalorian asked abruptly, making you straighten up. "That it sticks?"

"Yeah, of course. You told me a few times." You responded, your brow furrowed. "Why, did something happen?"

"That night, you…" he paused, clearing his throat. "After you said good night."

Oh no.

"I thought you were in pain."

No no no.

"At least, that's what I thought a-at first." Even through your panic, you picked up on his voice sounding strange again.

"I-I--" You stuttered, your mind spooling back all the incredibly embarrassing, incriminating things you had said. Maker. "Look, I-"

"Do you do that often?" He questioned bluntly. He hadn't turned to look at you and that, of all things, made you angry.

"Listen, I get it, okay? It's gross, someone like me getting off on thinking about someone like you. Miles worse since you had to hear it, I'm sure." You spat, your embarrassment compounding to a scalding fury. "I wish it hadn't happened, but now that I know it did all I can say is forget-"

The sound of his harness buckle hitting the side of his chair interrupted your heated rant and the next thing you knew he was standing over you, leather gloves creaking from the pressure of his fists clenching. You quailed a little, suddenly unsure of yourself. What if he thought you were dirty, disgusting for fantasizing about him? Oh Maker, what if he was angry? What if he forced you to leave? What if-

The Mandalorian jabbed a finger down to undo your own buckle, his grip unforgiving steel when he tugged you up out of your seat. You stared hard at his chest, willing yourself not to cry.

"I couldn't get your sounds out of my head." He rasped finally. "I was up all night. Couldn't sleep." His hand moved up slowly, like he was in a trance, and he ran his thumb over your lower lip. "Th-Thinking about you spread out on the floor, whimpering for me." He muttered, and you started to realize that he was absolutely not angry. This was...something else. "Begging for…sounded like you were right next to me a-and you're this beautiful...fucking, perfect-" He stopped abruptly, his words choking off in his throat.

It was restraint.

Iron restraint was keeping him barely reined-in but he wanted this, the breaths panting out through the modulator a tell-tale sign that he was under duress. He pulled off his right glove and reached out hesitantly, cradling your hand in his bare palm when you didn't move away.

His fingers were so hot. You could feel them trembling and you wondered what thoughts must be running rampant in his head as you folded your other hand over his own, keeping it there. He inhaled raggedly, his helmet listing to the side. "Maker, I've been--I was…"

"What?" You whispered, feeling as though you were trying to approach a wild animal.

He appeared to be having trouble articulating. For all his self-assurance, he had never really displayed any sort of awe-inspiring grasp of linguistics. The tradeoff for a creed of people that so often ended up solitary, you reasoned. In a way, it was endearing.

A soft noise issued from him, almost a groan, almost a sigh, and he lifted his free hand to his chest. His index and middle finger drew a circle and then he rapped his knuckles against the beskar over his heart, steel ringing softly in the silence of the cockpit. "K'oyacyi, stay alive, stay safe." He murmured. "An order, rigid, firm, with heart underneath it."

Oh.

"Do you remember the first time you said that to me?" The Mandalorian pressed on, "You were still scared of me, but you said it anyway. Right before I tangled with Dune. "

You erupted into giggles. "I know, you got covered in needles from those trees."

"Thought I'd never get all of them out of my cape." He was smiling, you could hear it in his voice.

"You sound nice when you smile."

"I...h-how...thank you." He stammered.

He stepped back after a moment, gesturing down at the star charts. Destination: Nevarro. The place you had called home for over a cycle. The place where you had once longed to return. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had been cowering in the hold, begging to be delivered safely to Nevarro.

"I'm...I'm bringing you back. This is where you wanted to go." He said with difficulty. "Once we arrive, I..." He paused, looking down at you. "I don't know what will happen."

"I'm coming with you." You said quickly.

You felt the difference, the shift in his attitude. One moment he had been warm, the next, an impenetrable wall of beskar slid up between you. "No, you're not."

You wanted to scream at the change, to rail at it until he relented and gave you back that brief taste of what you had been searching for all this time. The man, not the mystery. "How am I supposed to keep you safe if you go places without me?" You reasoned wildly, trying to phrase it like you were joking.

"I don't need you to keep me safe." For all his hatred of droids, he certainly excelled at channeling their impassive demeanor. "I would rather you stayed out of this. It's business between the Guild and myself."

"Then why are Cara and Kuiil here too?" You challenged.

"That's...they're here to…" He shook his head and looked back towards the viewport, obviously frustrated and either unwilling or unable to explain himself.

Your heart sank in grim realization. "You're going to do something."

"I'm always doing someth-"

"You know what I mean!" You interrupted him sharply. "Something that you shouldn't do. I heard the message, most of it anyway."

"It's something that I have to do." He sighed, the sound bone-tired. "Otherwise, they'll just send more hunters after the kid. It's better this way. Better if I go along with the plan."

"B-But-"

He reached for you abruptly, hands gripping your shoulders. "What would you do? Since you've got all the answers?" He growled. "I can't keep running. We've barely made it this far. I won't get steady work without the Guild. If I do this, Karga wipes my record and I can get back to the way things were. The kid shouldn't have to be fucking hunted, running scared all the time!"

You glared up at him, furious because of course there was nothing you could do to change his mind. You didn't have a solution to this problem and he knew it, yet he still wanted to take it out on you! "Don't yell at me, you-!" Angry words seethed in your chest, molten hot like lava. You wanted to rage at him, stars knew you wanted to. But instead, tears welled up in your eyes. "Y-You--!" Maker, why couldn't you just be angry? "You're so stupid!" You sobbed out.

He was silent in the wake of your tumultuous explosion, hesitantly digging his thumbs in to rub comforting circles on your shoulders after several minutes of just standing there like a statue. "I don't know what else to do." He admitted, his voice nothing but a soft whisper. "All I know is what I have to do. You need to understand, the IG and I...I made the choice to hunt the kid first. I turned him in first. I took the payment first."

"You g-gave them the baby?" You snuffled incredulously. "I thought-"

"They offered me an entire camtono of beskar." He replied, his voice dark with shame. Your eyes widened, breath catching in your chest. So much! "Slid me an ingot beforehand to sweeten the pot. It was Purge-smelted, like the one you had. It needed to be brought back to the tribe. Healed. Melted down to sponsor Foundlings." He sounded like he was still trying to convince himself, still trying to justify his actions. "This is the Way."

"Stars." You breathed.

"I handed over the kid, got my beskar, and I...I just...I realized that I had…" He was struggling again, settling for a shrug. "So I went and stole him back and then left." He cocked his head to the side, his tone gone wryly fond. "That's when you showed up."

The individual in gleaming beskar armor gave no sign that they heard you, their rifle barrel trained between your eyes--

Now that you knew what had transpired immediately prior to your arrival, you were even more impressed that he hadn't shot you on sight. "I'm going with you. I don't care." You hiccupped, wiping your eyes.

"That's the problem. I do." His voice pitched lower with sincerity, fingers digging in slightly. "How many damn times have I put you in danger? Between Sorgan, Toro, the stunt with Ranzar's group? This isn't a life you want, stowaway." He was trying to convince you, you realized, possibly himself as well.

"I want a life with you." You whispered, your words naked and honest.

The Mandalorian's voice sounded raw even through the modulator. "No, you don't."

His hands left your shoulders and you almost started crying again, only just managing to fend off the impulse through sheer, indomitable spite. You seized his bare hand before he could move away from you and you raised it to your lips.

"Don't," he breathed, his helmet bowed against his shoulder. "You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."

"I don't believe you." You knew the words were cruel, but you didn't regret them. You stared defiantly up at the impassive man, then you kissed his knuckles.

And all hell broke loose.

The Mandalorian ripped his hand out of your hold and grabbed a fistful of your tunic, shoving you back against the wall. "You think so?" He seethed through his teeth. "You really--you believe-I--" His body crowded yours, beskar breastplate rising and falling against your chest with every furious breath he took. Your own breathing hitched, legs trembling slightly as you stared him down. "Do you have any idea how hard you're making this for me?!" He finally managed to snarl. Not angry but frustrated, scared.

His pelvis rested against yours, and through his flight suit... "Yeah." You replied, giving him your cheekiest smirk. "Yeah, I'm getting an idea."

"You-" he stopped short, obviously confused before you pointedly rolled your hips. His helm dropped and he sucked in a ragged breath, the hand still fisted in your shirt tugging you hesitantly closer after a moment. "More. Fuck, I just-" His other hand grappled with your belt loops, wrenching your lower half flush to his. "More."

You squirmed in an effort to get comfortable and he snapped his teeth with an audible click!, the noise sending lightning sparks through your body. As he tilted his head back, no doubt in an attempt to regain some composure, the thick column of his throat revealed itself tantalizingly from beneath the layers of beskar and cowling.

"Want to touch you." He said helplessly.

"I'm not going to stop you."

"I know, that's the fucking problem."

"That seems like the exact opposite of a problem to me." You tucked your face against his shoulder, fingers dragging his cowl out of the way, and you felt his whole body tense as you pressed your mouth to the sensitive skin of his throat.

The Mandalorian made a noise that sounded almost pained, his gloved hand shooting up to thread through your hair. "Maker, you...fuck-" His voice cracked when you bit down gently. "Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I want--"

"What do you want?" You asked softly.

"I--" The armored man surged forward to nudge his knee between your legs, spreading them wider. His fingers fought with your placket for a split-second, and then he had it splayed open. "You." He growled, gracelessly shoving his bare hand into your underwear. He stopped dead, clearly startled by how wet you already were. "Oh, you--you-?"

As if he hadn't had you in his helmet the other night begging him to fuck you. You whimpered, licking and nipping at the skin of his neck to try and encourage him to keep moving. "Come on, don't stop-"

His fingers shakily curved to cup your mound, rapid breathing all but deafening through the modulator. "You're so warm." He sounded dazed, his index finger tracing your slit before his knuckles collided with the slick that had pooled in your panties. "Maker, I just-"

His hand slithered free and you whined at the loss, confused when he quickly clapped his other hand over your eyes. There was a soft chuff of air and then you heard the distinct noise of a tongue hard at work. Your thighs clenched instinctively. Gods, was he tasting you? The low, unmodulated groan that followed only intensified your suspicions and arousal in equal measure.

"So hot." His bare fingers delved back into your drenched pussy, smearing your slick liberally around your clit. He hadn't removed the hand from your eyes yet, warm leather kissing your cheekbones. "You're so wet, I--fuck-" Whatever limited articulation he did possess seemed to have been thrown to the wayside, the Mandalorian resorting to a litany of sighed swears that had your body rocking against his hand.

The hand that he kept pulling free. You could hear him shoving his helmet up to taste you every time, licking your arousal off of his fingers like he was starving.

This was all achingly one-sided, despite his original protests. "H-Hey." You said shakily, trying to get his attention, "not that I'm not having legitimately the best time of my life, b-but I'm not doing anything for you-"

"Wrong." He replied breathlessly. "Everything for me."

"I just feel like--I-!" Your voice cracked, then broke embarrassingly high when he hooked his fingers a certain way and ground the heel of his palm up. You grabbed his shoulders, your body caving into his as your legs started to tremble.

"Everything for me." He repeated, feverishly working his thumb in circles around your clit. "Everything, everything-" He nudged your face against his neck, muffling your hungry whimpers and moans with his cowl. "-Perfect-"

Your nails dug into his pauldrons and a satisfied growl rumbled in his chest as you came apart under his touch.

His hand finally left your eyes, but at that point you were having difficulty opening them anyway. You dimly heard him tearing at his zippers, the lower fly of his flight suit apparently giving him some trouble. He snarled and the feral noise ripped down your back like a searing blade, making you quiver against the wall.

His gloved hand cupped the back of your neck, tugging your head down until you lazily blinked open your eyes, somnolent and simply luxuriating in the feeling. "Look." He breathed, seeming almost shy.

Oh. Oh, he was huge.

You were absolutely looking.

He had his cock in hand, the whole surface shining with a mixture of precome and your own arousal. As you watched, the head of it slowly vanished into his fist, and then emerged even slicker than before. "You're such a tease." You whimpered, loving the way his hips jerked at the sound of your voice. "Are you going to put it into me or do I have to beg?"

"You...you want-?" The Mandalorian sounded absolutely shattered.

"Please, please fuck me." You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing kisses to the bare skin you could find. "Please." Granted, you were unsure of your body's capability to take...all of that, but you were absolutely game to try.

"Stars, you're killing me." He grated out, tugging at your pants so you could kick them off. Strong hands gripped the backs of your thighs and he hoisted you up against his body, shoving his liner shirt to the side in the process. His cock ended up trapped between the slick folds of your pussy and his stomach and you loved the helpless noise he made in his throat.

Your back hit the wall a little higher than before and you wrapped your legs around his hips, wriggling into a slightly more comfortable position.

"Tell me to stop." He begged, his cock throbbing against your sensitive clit as he shifted his hips. The motions sent tiny little shudders of delight up and down your spine.

In reply, you rested your forehead on his helmet, staring into the visor. You imagined you caught the faintest glimpse of his eyes, wide and waiting. "You want me to ask nicely?" You crooned, "Please fuck me."

His cock slowly, slowly surged up into you, the blunt press of it robbing you of your breath. The Mandalorian's snarl was music to your ears, "Have t-t--go...slow." And stars he was huge, huge, you were bewildered that you were managing so well on this first push. You thanked the Maker that he had already made you come once, at least he wouldn't have any lubrication issues!

Words appeared to fail him rapidly, the armored man focused solely on burying his cock in you as deeply as he could. You finally felt the fabric of his flight suit against your groin and you growled, your fingers raking hungrily at his back plating. "Fuc-kk--y-you're so big-" You gasped.

His first real thrust ruined you. Your back arched and your mouth fell open of its own accord as the breath left your body, your mind dissolving into static. The Mandalorian pressed his forehead to your own. "S'--okay?" He slurred, clearly concerned but not in the right frame of mind to fully coordinate a sentence.

"Move, oh please, please," You begged, "fuck me open, f-fuck me, fuck me-"

His cock withdrew, and-and--

"M'sorry-" he choked out, cradling the back of your head to keep it from hitting the wall as he mercilessly pounded your cunt. "So--hot, wet, I--"

"Don't stop, please please please-" you sobbed against his neck, your fists clenched into his flight suit. "P-lease, I need it, I need you, gods I need you so much-" The words tumbled from your lips, as brutally honest as you could let yourself be, as he fucked them out of you. "I need you so much, I need you so much--"

I love you so much, I love you so much.

"N-Need…" You felt his body go taut underneath you, the tension making his cock throb at your inner walls. "You--me?"

"Yes." You keened, your second orgasm building to a crest in your belly.

"So good-" Every impressive inch of him plunged into you and then he stopped, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held still for the barest second. "Safe." His helmet tipped back and he groaned, fumbling his free hand down to stroke your clit and fuck you through your orgasm. "I--want you, p-please--all this skin, f-uck, y-yes you feel so--!"

He was grunting, straining, snarling out half-nonsense and then you raised one trembling hand to his chest. Two fingers traced a circle on the center of his beskar plate and as his chin tipped down to watch you, you tapped your knuckles over his heart. "Safe." You whispered.

He came in you with a seething moan, his fingers clawing at your hips while you clung tightly to him.

Heavy breaths rattled his entire body. You weren't much better, your chest heaving against his own. The Mandalorian groaned deep in his throat, dragging at the hem of your tunic. "What's wrong?" You asked breathlessly.

He didn't answer, just continued to haul the tunic up and over your head. He then rutted his hips up, punching a pitiful little whine out of you. How was he still hard?!

"More." He begged.

…

The Mandalorian's head tipped back and he swore, the noise gravelly.

You sprawled comfortably between his legs, naked as the day you were born and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. You had been there for an extended period of time, though you didn't particularly care. The pace you had set was languid, unhurried, and he seemed perfectly happy to just sit in his pilot chair with his cock resting on your tongue.

The urgency that he displayed earlier hadn't faded at all despite that, both of his now-ungloved hands hungrily stroking over your jaw, your shoulders, the back of your neck.

"If I don't--don't-" He gasped out suddenly. "I want you to know, I-"

You pulled off of his cock and he grunted, shuddering. "You can just blow off steam, you know. Not everything has to have an important reason." You informed him, your nails scratching lightly at the flight suit that still covered his thighs. You ducked back down to kiss and lick at his balls, and you heard him choke when your tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

His abdomen spasmed underneath the thin liner shirt, muscles twitching and jumping the longer you lavished his balls with attention. "W-hy--I don't-I don't--" He stuttered, rushing to wrap his fist around the base of his cock to hold his orgasm back again. This would mark the fourth time since you had settled between his legs, but you were hardly complaining. "Oh, fuck, f--uck-"

"Don't you want to come?" You asked curiously, licking a wet stripe up the side of his cock and fingers.

His helmet slammed back against the headrest hard enough to make you wince. "W-Want--hngh-I don't want this t-to...don't want it to end. Feel so good-!"

His voice broke when you grazed your fingernails softly over his balls. Despite him coming in you earlier, he seemed to have more than enough to spare. You wondered with a lewd thrill just how much he might come if he was toyed with long enough.

"Used t' think about--about this. A-About. You." He confessed guiltily. "Fuck my fist, wishing it was your...c--unt, fuck-"

"Yeah? Did you get off on me?" You asked teasingly. "Did you wish you were fucking me?"

"I d-didn't mean to-" he moaned, the noise almost a whimper. "I just...you were...g-good to me, n' sometimes I would--I would--" He spread his legs a little wider and shoved his liner shirt up, exposing the planes of his abdomen to you in a languid show. He then slid a single finger down the side of his cock, smearing the precome that had seeped forth once you removed your mouth. "Fuck my fist, just--j-just wishing that I could…" He choked off his train of thought when you leaned up and licked at the skin he had revealed. "Oh, oh, fuck-"

"I'll suck you off for as long as you want, and you can fuck me for as long as you want." You breathed.

"N-No, no, have to do something for you t-too." The Mandalorian protested, his hands grasping at your shoulders. "I can't just t-ake-"

"You want to do something for me?"

"Anything. Wh-Whatever you want."

"Kiss me?" You whispered.

His entire body went still. "I…"

"You can cover my eyes, but I promise I won't peek. It doesn't even have to be on the mouth, if you don't want to! I just…" You fidgeted and glanced down, feeling weirdly shy all of a sudden. "I just wanted to know, I-I guess."

"Sit up here." He ordered as he patted his thighs, his voice breathless. "Sit." You obliged, straddling him as best as you could with his legs spread so far apart. You ended up with your mound pressed to his stomach, your pussy grinding against his cock with every shaky breath he took. "I'm going to cover your eyes now." Why was he whispering? He raised his hand, tenderly cupping your cheek before he smoothed it down over your eyes.

"I can't take it off for you, right?" You asked. "That's not allowed?"

He murmured, "has to be me." Blind to everything and anything except the overwhelming presence that was him, you closed your eyes behind his palm and waited patiently.

There was the soft chuff of air that you had heard over and over earlier when he was...enjoying you. Then, the quiet slide of his skin against the inner padding.

"Oh-! Dammit." He swore a split-second before there was a loud clatter on the floor. You burst out laughing. "Rude, stowaway. Shouldn't kick a man when he's down." Even through his protests, you could tell he was smiling. "Lost my grip on it."

You raised your hands, blindly feeling along his arms until you reached his shoulders. He still had his pauldrons on, the beskar smooth under your touch. You walked your fingers up the sides of his neck, surprised when you felt thick hair grazing your knuckles at the nape of his neck. "Okay, so maybe you do have hair." You allowed, lacing your fingers through it and tugging gently.

"Were you still--Maker, you're impossible." He huffed, leaning forward. His stubble brushed your ear and you flinched, squealing a little when he tongued over the ticklish skin. "Got you." He exhaled and suddenly it wasn't ticklish anymore. Straight teeth worried the sensitive shell of your ear and you whimpered, unable to keep from twitching at the feeling. "Mm, what's the matter?" The Mandalorian murmured playfully. "You said I didn't have to kiss you on the mouth."

"Yeah, b-but--" You cut yourself off, your fingernails digging into the nape of his neck when he plunged his hot, wet tongue into your ear before mouthing all around the edge. For some reason the sensation had you wound tight, a new wave of slick rising in your core. "Ah-!"

He brought his free hand down to your pussy, carefully spreading your folds with his fingers. "What's the matter?" He crooned in your ear again, tapping his thumb lightly down onto your clit. He then nipped at your earlobe, tongue laving over the skin. "Was there something else you needed? You're dripping the come I pumped into you all over my beskar." He whispered. "Could keep you splayed open like this for hours, just so I could watch your insides twitch and clench down on nothing while you're waiting for more."

"Y-You-" You wished your voice didn't sound so breathy. You couldn't decide which you preferred: his wild stammering when he was out of control, or his unflinchingly honest speech when he could manage himself accordingly. "You're not f-fair--"

"Mm, odds are usually not in my favor." He agreed. He wrapped his soaked fingers around his cock, giving himself a lazy stroke and then rubbing the head against your clit. "You're so fucking...warm," he grunted, his thighs shifting restlessly underneath you. "I want to put my cock back into you. Will you let me fuck you again?" He asked, not giving you enough time to answer before indignantly replying, "What, no? Damn, you drive a hard bargain. What if I offered to...kiss you on the mouth? Would you let me put my cock in you then?"

You found yourself laughing at his teasing, butting your forehead against his own even though his palm was still over your eyes. "You're so dumb." You snickered. "How was I ever scared of you?"

"Because I'm strong and fast." He replied bluntly. "The armor helps."

"Your modesty is your finest quality." You snarked, a soft whimper fighting its way free when he rocked the head of his cock against your entrance again.

"Hmm, I don't remember you begging for my modesty the other night." He taunted you in reply. "If I recall correctly, you got a little...possessive. 'Your Mandalorian', was it?"

You swore under your breath. You got the feeling you would never, ever live that moment of weakness down. But seeing as it had led to this, you could probably endure his lighthearted jabs. "Well, yes. I did say that." You admitted. "Did it make you uncomfortable?"

"Fuck no." His teeth grazed your ear again and you shivered before you could stop yourself. "It was...it was nice to hear you all strung out, fucking yourself to the idea of me." You could feel the curve of his lips, could hear the bastard smiling. "The speaker is right in my ear, so it was like having you next to me." His unmodulated voice was like warm honey, husky, rich and golden. You had never thought that a voice could be so enthralling. "You're moving your hips again, stowaway." His fingers returned to your pussy, spreading you wide once more. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy doing that, if only to make you squirm. "Something you want?"

You reached down and took hold of his cock, smiling at the way his breathing hitched. "This." You splayed a palm on his chest, feeling the thunder of his heartbeat there. "All of this." Your fingers rose from his chest to his mouth, where you brushed your thumb over his lower lip. "And this."

"Yours already. All of it." He sighed, the noise turning into a growl when you angled your hips and eased the head of his cock into your cunt. "All of it. Every inch, every...s-stupid thing out of my mouth, everything."

"I like most of the things that come out of your mouth." You assured him, bracing yourself on his thighs and slowly, slowly lowering your pussy all the way down on his cock. Your pelvis slotted against his with a wet noise and you could feel your arousal trickle out around his cock and down your thighs.

"Hah, you...y-you…" You felt his hand squeeze your face momentarily, and then his mouth collided with your own. You whined and he snarled, that hot tongue seeking your own out after a split-second. He licked into your mouth hungrily like he was starving for a taste of you, only backing off to gasp, "Y-You're so wet-"

You bit down on his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth so you could harass it with your teeth and tongue. The Mandalorian made a strangled noise in his throat as your tongue flicked back and forth over the sensitive flesh before you released him again.

"Can't even th-think straight right now." He admitted, sliding his free hand beneath you to support your back. "Maker, between your fucking mouth and your c--cunt, it's a miracle I'm still--" His words jerked to a halt and you heard him swallow audibly. "Oh. Oh." He gritted out.

You rocked your hips back and forth a little faster, knowing that he could handle a rougher pace. He curved inside you deliciously, the length of him only marginally easier to manage with you in control.

"Wait, wait wait, I'm--fuck, wait, I-"

"What's the matter?" You asked breathlessly. "Too much for you?" You felt his hand grapple fiercely at the small of your back, grinding your pussy down onto his cock. He started rambling in Mando'a, the words ragged as you continued your merciless attack without quarter. This was one fight you were determined to not let him win.

"Cyar'ika," he moaned, his mouth finding your own. "I'm-I'm--f-uck, fuck fuck, I'll fucking--I'll f-ucking split y--split this sweet little c-cunt--" His whole body went taut beneath you, ramming his cock up to meet you over and over. "You take me so...s-so fucking good, so good, so good t' me--" The wet sounds, the heat of his body against your own in his frenzied fucking and the way that his voice cracked combined to be the thing that finally tipped the two of over the edge. As you felt him start to let go, you took one of your hands and fisted it in the thick hair at the nape of his neck, directing him to look down at where your bodies joined.

"I want you t-to watch. Without the helmet." You panted, feeling more than hearing his raspy groan in reply. "So you can remember."

"I'm not going to f--orget, fuck, fuck, like I could e-ever for-g-get this--" The words stumbled out of his mouth, tangled in a dazed little knot, "--ever forget you." His body shuddered and he finally ground to a halt, dragging you against his chest and burying his face in your shoulder as he came with a hoarse shout.

You circled your hips on his still-twitching cock, your own orgasm close behind from how hard he had been pounding up into you. His voice sounded destroyed when he cried out, and you couldn't determine whether he was begging for mercy or more. His free hand fumbled between the two of you to tease one of your nipples; you could do nothing to help the pitiful noise you made when he pinched and tugged at the sensitive bud.

"Come for me. C-Come for me. Come for me." Whether a plea or an order, it was unavoidable. You came for him, the intensity making your skin prickle and your eyes open wide behind his hand. "Yes..." He drew the word out alongside your keening moan of completion, long and slow, praising you in that husky, now almost reverent tone.

You collapsed into him and you felt his mouth curve against your neck, stubbled smile teasing the skin while you fought to regain your breath. His arm reached for something on the floor, and you heard the slide of his helmet after a moment. Then, he removed his palm from your eyes.

The Mandalorian grunted softly and there was a delicate crackling noise beside your ear. "Fuck, that's a cramp." He grimaced, making you huff out a laugh. "Ow, ow. My wrist is...not pleased."

"Mm, should have just taken the chance." You mused, your eyes still closed.

"Chancy enough, getting this naked." He flicked over your nipple, chuckling softly when you whined. "Gods, you are perfect." He murmured. "I'll miss this."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You sat up slowly, staring at his visor. "Why? Wh-Where-?"

"I don't know how sideways all of this will go." He replied simply. "I have a gut feeling."

Your hands fisted in his liner shirt. "So don't go, then."

"You know it's not that simple. If I don't, they'll keep hunting the kid."

"We can hide!" You suggested wildly. "Stay in the Outer Rim, hunker down on Dathomir or Felucia-"

"Until what?" His pragmatism cut you to the quick. "Until the Crest falls apart and we end up stranded in some asteroid field?" You fell silent, your fingers kneading at his chest in a silent plea, don't go. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to drag you along this time. Whether you agree or not, I'm not involving you."

It felt like he had just stolen all the air out of your body, tears welling up in your eyes as those traitorous arms wrapped around you. His palms were large and warm, rubbing firm circles into the abruptly-cold skin of your back. You were suddenly awash with shame, and you pulled away from his comforting embrace. He made a noise, almost a protest, but you shook it off and struggled to stand.

"Easy, hang on to me. You'll fall over." He offered, his hand already out for you to grab. You ignored it in favor of jerking your panties back up your legs, nearly toppling with the effort. "Hey, you-"

"Don't touch me." You breathed, seconds from bursting into tears. "Just...just don't." You felt disgusting, sore, your body aching and tender from the overstimulation it had just received.

A soft, "oh," was all he gave in reply. His voice sounded defeated and more than anything you wanted to fling yourself back at him, to beg forgiveness and also kill him because how could he do this to you? How could he give everything to you and then take it all away in an instant?

You refused to look at him while you continued to dress yourself, certain that your incredibly fragile resolve would give out if you saw him tilting his head or any of the other little things he did that had wormed their way into your heart. But you were also seized with the fierce desire to wound him like he had wounded you.

And so, as you turned to climb down the ladder you tossed out a flippant, haughty, "This is the Way, right?"

You heard him inhale raggedly. "I--wait, please, just-"

You didn't stay to let him finish, continuing down the ladder.

…

This was technically your own fault, you reminded yourself for the hundredth time. Technically. You could have let him leave the cockpit, but no, you had to grab his hand! Really, you had no one to blame but yourself.

That didn't stop you from feeling like a gross, terrible person, of course, but at least you knew why. You felt stupid for thinking that you could convince him of anything other than what he had already decided upon.

Cara seemed to sense that something was wrong the following morning and she went out of her way to goad the Mandalorian into an arm wrestling match once the Crest departed Arvala-7. It was a bit cramped in the hold, what with the blurrgs and all, so you were a spectator whether you wanted to be or not.

The two of them posted up on top of a crate, their elbows firmly planted after they set their wagers. They slapped hands once and the child's ears perked up curiously.

The former trooper and the bounty hunter locked into their holds as you looked on, a bit invested now. Carasynthia somehow managed to keep the armored man at bay, unless the Mandalorian was going easy on her. Of course, she had been a dropper. Lugging pounds and pounds of gear and artillery must have built strong arms.

"I got you, Mando." She grinned.

"Care to double the bet?" The beskar-wearing man shot back, and you hated that you could tell he was smiling.

The baby looked back and forth between the two grunting adults, and their tiny hand reached out towards Cara. "Looks like the kid is calling dibs on the next round." You commented, chuckling a little. But when you looked up, you saw Cara releasing the Mandalorian's hand to frantically claw at her own throat.

The Mandalorian was only still for a split-second before he bolted upright, lunging to haul the child out of their bassinet. "Stop it!" He berated them sharply. "We're friends, we're friends! Cara is my friend!"

"Hey!" You moved to take the child but the Mandalorian quickly shifted, maneuvering himself between the two of you. "What are you doing? Stop yelling at them!" You protested, yanking on his arm.

"How very curious." Kuiil murmured, rising to his feet and moving to examine the child. The kid was just laying there, limp in the Mandalorian's grasp. Like they knew they had done something wrong.

"I mean, that's one word for it." Cara coughed. "What the hell was that?"

"What it is, I'm not certain. But that story you told me of the mudhorn is making a lot more sense." The Ugnaught mused to the Mandalorian.

"Psh, you would need the kid to help you cheat." Dune tried to joke, her voice rasping a little. "You that scared of losing, Mando?"

"What story? What mudhorn? What even just happened?" You demanded.

"The kid did this...thing once before. I can't really explain it." The Mandalorian answered you curtly. "He just moved his hand and a fucking full-grown mudhorn was three feet off the ground."

"...excuse me, what?" You questioned weakly.

"He also went into a coma sleep afterwards, guess he wore himself out." The Mandalorian shrugged, the kid peering over the side of his arm guiltily. "Maybe...maybe he thought Dune was a threat or something. Thought we were fighting for real."

"You little nugget, you really thought I was screwing with your dad?" Cara asked incredulously, reaching out and rubbing over one of the child's ears. "I tangled with your pops once, remember? He almost died."

"Not how I recall it." The Mandalorian growled, his pride clearly pinched. "We were at a stalemate if anything."

The child whimpered, holding their arms out to you. Despite now being privy to the incredibly frightening knowledge that oh, they can move things with their mind, they can choke a full-grown human out, you could still feel yourself softening. The eyes got you every time.

The Mandalorian, who had been watching you warily, muttered, "you don't have to if you don't--"

"Stop." You interrupted him sharply. "They're not a bomb." He fell silent, passing you the kid without further debate. They settled into your arms, staring up at you while you rocked back and forth. You began to hum their lullaby softly, hoping to get them to sleep at some point during this flight.

"I need your help." You glanced up, disappointment searing in your chest when you realized the Mandalorian was addressing Kuiil. You then proceeded to berate yourself for the hope you had in the first place.

He had made his choice and, in doing so, he had made your choice as well. There was nothing you could do to change his mind. Obviously. The best you could do was return to your mundane existence on Nevarro. Maybe once you were there you could hitch a ride on another freighter, leave the whole planet in the dust and get on with your life.

…

You tucked the baby in for what you knew was the last time, stroking your fingers over their little head.

The Razor Crest sat silent amongst the lava rivers, all illumination and non-essential mechanics off so as not to arouse suspicion or garner unwanted attention. To the best of your knowledge, everyone aside from you was already asleep. The blurrgs had been offloaded and secured outside; you could still hear them shuffling about as they chewed their cud.

The Mandalorian's rendezvous with his contact wasn't until tomorrow, but you didn't exactly feel like trying to explain your departure to everyone in the crisp gray light of a Nevarro morning.

It was better this way. It always was.

You picked up the small pack you had stowed in the bunk, as well as your toolbelt. After one final look at the child, you slowly felt your way towards the door. The lights in the hold were disabled, so all you had to navigate by was the faint orange glow from the distant lava.

You froze when you saw him standing next to the loading ramp, his shoulders rigid and arms crossed over his chest. The void of his visor bored into you, and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking.

After a moment of the two of you standing there in silence, he sighed and tapped a few of the keys on his gauntlet. The loading ramp began to slowly open, segmented plates extending with a hiss of hydraulics. You shifted your weight nervously and opened your mouth but he held up a hand, stopping you before you could even start.

He simply gestured at the ramp, all that beskar for once not making a sound.

You crept forward, wary of him for the first time in a long time. Before you managed to get past him though, he tilted his head. Two fingers pressed against his breastplate, drawing a circle. Then, he tapped his knuckles in the center.

Stay safe.

You wanted to scream.

"Yeah." You managed to choke out instead. Your hand moved of its own accord, running down your leg to your boot where you tugged the vibroblade free and held it out. "Won't need this anymore."

That stupid visor felt like it was staring into your soul. He took the knife back after a moment. He was blatantly, obviously careful not to actually touch your skin, using his index and thumb to gingerly pinch down on the handle.

You gave him an awkward nod and continued out onto the ramp, your boots hitting the obsidian ground with a thud.

You didn't turn around, no matter how much you wanted to.

Part Eight

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #eventual romance #slow burn #oh they fockin #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #please don't hate me #this hurts me a lot

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throwaway3844893 · 4 years

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Imagine: Newt proposes to Tina

Tina welcomed the warmth of the case with a sigh. Though it was nearly summertime, and New York continued to get hotter every week, Tina still enjoyed the homeliness of the case. She had grown used to it over the last two years. Tina caught a movement in the corner of her eye."Hello, Dougal," She said with a smile as she knelt down, watching as the supposedly concealed creature ran around with bundles of apples in his hands. It froze, allowed itself to be seen again, and ran up to her, dropping the apples in the process before enveloping her in a big hug. Tina laughed quietly, standing up to accommodate the added weight of the creature. She raised an eyebrow at the creature. "Do you have any idea where Newt might be?" She asked it before its eyes turned blue, predicting where he could be. The demiguise made a loud noise that resembled the screech of a phoenix and climbed down her body, pointing in the direction of the mooncalves and occamies. She set off in the way Dougal had pointed her. Tina walked through the case, the stress from the day easing off her back. She'd taken her jacket off up in Newt's apartment; he had given her a spare key, "in case I ever forget something," though there was a definite underlying meaning in those words. She walked through the green, rubbery vines that hung from the trees into the occamy exhibit, where many tiny, violet and indigo snake like creatures greeted her with a series of chirps. "Hello," Tina said softly, holding out her hands for one to slither on. They were awfully apprehensive of her at first, not doing anything she asked unless ordered by Newt, but gradually her kindness to them took its toll and they began to trust her. Though she suspected it also had to do with her and Newt's relationship status as well. Things had progressed smoothly over the last two years; they basically lived at each other's apartments now, though neither had made the motion of fully moving in. The occamy wrapped itself around Tina's shoulders as she exited its enclosure, her entourage of creatures providing a wonderful company. Dougal pulled gently at the hem of her blouse, inspiring her to look down and see what he pointed at. A large smile began to spread on her face as she spotted Newt, his hair shiny and golden in the artificial sunlight as he worked to feed a runespoor.

He looked beautiful. Tina reveled in the sight of him for more than her fair share of moments before he turned around and got a glimpse of her, flashing his toothy grin as he raised a hand. "Welcome home, darling!" He called, wiping his hands off with a rag before making his way toward her, arms spreading wide.

"Home?" Tina inquired, raising an eyebrow as Newt enveloped her in a hug. He kissed her for a moment: a short, no-nonsense kiss, and smiled at her comical look. "That's a new one."

Newt chuckled nervously, avoiding her eye. "Yes, well, you technically live down here now, don't you? There's rarely a time when we aren't together." At Tina's look, he continued. "That's not a bad thing! I thoroughly enjoy every moment we spend together. I love you, Tina."

"That's true, and I love you too," Tina responded, beginning to walk around the case. A slight breeze picked up, gently swirling her waves behind her face. The sun had begun to set, and a soft glow emitted from the artificial light in the case. Tina took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar sent of Newt's case. She could spend her entire life here, she thought to herself.

Not that she was going to.

Tina sighed, ridding herself of the thought. Those were nothing but intrusive, false lies she thought sometimes. She could never present these ideas to Newt, however, because he would most certainly take them to heart.

Newt noticed her change in demeanor and quickly came to action. "What's upsetting you, my love?" He asked, keeping enough open for the conversation but allowing Tina room to exit in case she didn't want to talk about it. He always was sure to do this, as Tina was a complicated figure. There were times she wanted to talk and times she wanted to be left completely alone. The timing varied on both her tone and the setting of the conversation.

Tina turned to face him, deciding that now was her only chance to finalize the thoughts she'd been suffering for awhile. "Newt..." she started, meeting his concerned gaze. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Do you see a future for us?"

Newt swallowed hardly, ignoring the lump in his jacket's pockets that had been there for days.

"Erm..." he started, unsure of what to say. Of course he saw a future for them, he was planning on proposing to her! He fidgeted with his hands while searching for an answer, his mind flicking back to the Ministry letter he had received the day before purchasing her ring.

The Ministry had offered him a position as a research lead and expert on an ancient beast that travelled through London once every few decades, a breed of creature nobody knew much about. Newt hesitantly accepted the offer, and was off on his way.

"It's okay if you don't," said an anxious Tina, biting her bottom lip. "I'm sorry I said it, just forget I ever aske-"

"Of course I see a future with you, Tina!" Newt started, desperate not to lose her in this time of need. He wouldn't— no, couldn't— let her get away. Not when he had their entire life together to look forward to. "I love you, and I want to build a life with you. I would be honored to have a future with you, in whichever capacity that could be. If only..."

Tina's face had fallen. "If only... what?"

Newt knew this was a pivotal moment. He thought carefully before speaking. "I got a letter from the Ministry. They want me to go back to London to research a magical creature they've just discovered," he said, avoiding Tina's eyes. Newt hesitated before saying the next sentence. "They want me to go back in four months."

He watched as Tina's face dropped, and a million different emotions seemed to take place at once. Anger, confusion, sadness, fear. All of those were accomplished in what felt like a millisecond before Tina began to stutter out a response.

"No, they can't, we- you have a life here, in New York. They can't just whisk you away whenever they please just because they want someone to research creatures that they could study perfectly fine themselves. It just... it isn't fair!" Tina said, her accent growing thicker as quickly as her voice did shrill. She threw her arms into the air before placing both of her hands on her temple, burying her face in them with a sigh. The occamy had long since slithered off of her shoulders, not wanting to endure listening to the two argue any longer than it had to. "It's not right. They can't force you."

Newt shuffled for a few moments, sticking his hands in his pockets as he watched the ground beneath his shoes. A stray piece of grass stumbled around the floor, and it took all of Newt's willpower not to scoop it up and finish his plan early. His plan that had gone horribly wrong. "Actually, Tina... I volunteered to do it," he admitted, avoiding her eye.

The silence that followed was deafening. Though she made no noise, Newt winced. Tina's refusal to speak was enough. She tensed up and turned around, busying herself with the feeding of a creature. She stared at it intently, willing herself not to cry. He'd volunteered to leave? After everything they'd built- a home, careers, a life, he'd decided to go back to London? Her mind raced, and Tina was unable to form a steady thought as panic after worry after anger rehashed in her mind. Newt stuttered behind her, trying to find the words to rectify his mistake. "I'm sorry, I know it was a rash decision, but it was an opportunity I've been waiting for for years-"

"Years?! What, have you just been waiting for a perfect time to up and leave?" Tina yelled, not believing what Newt was telling her. She knew she was being irrational, but the thought that he'd wanted to leave for so long absolutely tore her apart. It was one of her fleeting thoughts; sometimes he would mention how he missed London, but she knew she'd be the same if it were the other way around. But if he left for London, that would mean she'd lost him. For good. Tina couldn't stop the indomitable tears that began to fall from her eyes.

Newt stared back at Tina, who still faced away from him, flabbergasted that she would make such a claim. "No, Tina, no. If I could stay here and study the creatures here I would. But they only travel in packs throughout London once every few years, it could be a decade before they come again," He explained, taking a few cautious steps toward her before stopping. "I would never leave you on purpose. I don't want to leave you here. If there was a way I could take you to London with me, and you could live there with me, I'd have told you."

He began to realize that his plan was diminishing drastically, and the small box that resided in the pocket of his waistcoat seemed to weigh one thousand more pounds.

Tina was quiet for a long time, sitting down on a bench in the case to steady herself.

"How are we going to get through this?" Tina whispered, allowing a few tears to fall from her eyes before wiping them away and standing up. "How will we survive with an ocean between us?"

Newt held onto Tina's forearm, trying to comfort her. "We did it before, we can do it once more. It would be for just a few months and I'll be back. If I can find a way to get you to London with me I will, but I'm not sure how the laws work between MACUSA and the Ministry," he explained, and she nodded. It was difficult to accept, but this was the opportunity of Newt's lifetime. Tina knew she couldn't take that away from him.

"Is there any way you know of that I could go to London with you?"

Newt could feel it. It bubbled in his chest, his heart pumping the fastest it'd ever gone.

"Marry me," Newt said all of a sudden, and before he could stop himself he was reaching into the top pocket of his waistcoat. The black box showed itself, and the simple ring began to reveal itself. But when Newt realized Tina had stilled and wasn't speaking, instead staring at him, his hands stopped. "I-I'm sorry, it was out of place for me to say that, if I've upset you-"

"No," Tina said, walking toward him and shaking her head. Newt felt his entire world crashing down on him. She'd rejected him, and he couldn't help the tears that began to fill his eyes. "Don't apologize, I-" Tina stopped mid-sentence when she saw the state Newt was in, and everything seemed to click. "Oh, you stupid idiot, yes, yes, I'll marry you, of course I will!"

Tina crashed into him then, enveloping him in the most passionate embrace he'd ever felt. She kissed him once, twice, three times, before backing away. "Did you want to do it proper?" She asked. Newt nodded.

Tina smiled considerably as she watched him get on one knee. "Tina..." he started, opening the box and revealing the ring that was inside. "Porpentina... Goldstein, I have loved you ever since the day I met you. You have brought so much joy into my life; you accepted me when no one else would, cared for me when everyone else was as sick as I, and cared for my creatures as if they were your own. I'm in the hopes that someday they will be. Will you, Tina Goldstein, give me the pleasure of being your husband?"

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ejm513 · 4 years

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HEART OF STONE- PROLOGUE

HELLO MY LOVELIES! I’M SORYY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH. I’VE HAD WORK, LIFE IN GENERAL, AND I’VE BEEN ALSO WORKING ON A FULL METAL ALCHEMIST BROTHERHOOD STORY I HOPE TO MAKE INTO A REAL, NON FAN FICTION STORY AND HAVE GOTTEN SUCKED INTO THAT FANDOM. BUT I FINALLY GOT MY ACT TOGETHER AND FINISHED THE PROLOGUE! I ALREADY HAVE THE FIRST CHAPTER STARTED SO HOPEFULLY THAT WONT TAKE AS LONG.

PLEASE ENJOY AND PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW!!!

~HEART OF STONE~

BY EJM513

PROLOGUE

There was absolutely no way around it.

Toph Beifang, the greatest Earth Bender alive, the creator of metal bending and former police chief of the great Republic City was dying.

She had always seemed to be made of stone, hardy and unbreakable. She had withstood storm after storm, trial after trial and never crumbled. Even as she shrunk back to her previous childlike size and her porcelain skin was etched with deep wrinkles and her hair grew whiter than the winter sun, she was unbendable. Her fortitude was as strong and steady as the earth she could control at will.

Yet there she was, the indomitable Toph Beifang, lying under a swath of blankets. Gentle, white sunlight poured through the window, warming her frigid skin. Her glassy eyes made it impossible to take in the calming pale walls around her or the photos that surrounded her. The only reason she even knew of their existence were due to the eerily soft and gentle words of her granddaughter. Toph attempted a scoff and an eye roll. What good were photos she couldn’t see? All that came out was a soft, strangled noise and feeble flutter of her eyes. Her well trained ears heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards her side. She could hear the sharp intakes of breaths as words of fear and concern were about to be uttered. Before they had a chance, she held up a frail, wrinkled and shaking hand.

“Relax. Nothing’s happening to me… not yet anyway.” She claimed, her voice weak and full of gravel. No one spoke, but Toph could sense the growing anxiety and terror blooming in their hearts. All she could do was sigh and allow her weary body to sink further into the impossibly soft mattress.

Never in her life had she felt her advanced age so keenly and so bitterly. Her bones ached and screamed and creaked with every little jolt or shift. Her muscles were as heavy as led. Her lungs crackled and tensed with each wheezing breath. Her frail body was engulfed in a swath of warm, heavy blankets that only weighed her down even more.

How she ended up in this snug bed Toph would never know.

She had felt her body growing frailer and frailer with each rising and setting sun, but she chose to march on as if nothing was wrong. Then there was the fateful day when her in dominatable will was no match for the ravages of time. Toph had been in her swamp, living her life as she had been for years and years; alone and on her own terms. She had just been basking under the tree, enjoying the serenity of her surroundings when it happened. Her chest heaved and her heart stuttered. Though there was no way for her to know she was certain her beloved swamp had begun to whirl, tilt and spiral until there was nothing; no sound, no sensation of the world beneath her.

When the world returned to her, Toph had found herself in a cozy room, in an inviting bed surrounded by what she could only assume were faces withered with worry and pity.

Oh, how she hated the pity. She could hear their soft murmurs dancing around her, confirming what she had quickly begun to suspect.

She was at the end of her life.

Toph buried herself into the blankets, struggling to regain any sense of warmth. Thankfully her mind was still as clear and sharp as ever, and it began to wander.

Dying, she decided, was a strange thing.

She had always expected it to come with a swift and brutal finality. Yet now that it was here it crept like a lumbering glacier, slowly beckoning her. In a way she was grateful for this careful, gradual pace. It gave Toph the time she needed to ponder over the long expanse of her life.

There had been much to be proud of.

She had become one of the most, if not the most powerful and accomplished Earth bender of her generation or any generation.

She had overcome a disability that would have left a lesser soul helpless and lost to the world around them.

She had helped save the world from a genocidal fire lord, bringing a new era of peace.

She created a new kind of bending at the age of 12 and started a school not longer after.

She became the chief of police of Republic City, the symbol of all their hopes for the future.

Above all else she had become a mother to two of the best daughters anyone could ever ask for.

Though no one would believe her if she had said motherhood was one of her greatest accomplishments.

The sorry fact of the matter was while Toph considered motherhood one of her greatest triumphs it was also her greatest failure. Toph was not a great mother or even a good mother. In retrospect using the term adequate was even being generous. In her determination to give her daughters a better life and all the freedom she never had she had swung too far in the other direction. She had given them too much freedom in replace of their mother. Her already weak stomach twisted in knots as she recalled how her well intentions lead to the great rift between her and her daughters. It was a rift that took years if not decades to mend. She had only made peace with her oldest daughter Lin within the last handful of years.

“Well at least I’ll be able to die without that hanging over me. Good. I can go without any regret” Her thoughts suddenly stopped, her skin somehow growing even paler as a mournful look washed over her fragile features. She felt her body grow stiff. She could feel her chest beginning to rise and fall faster than it had in days

Regrets.

No soul wants to die with regrets weighing them down. In her weakened state and pleasure of having her family surrounding her, the heaviest of all her regrets had been blissfully forgotten… if only for a moment.

That bitter regret came back with an instantaneous and ruthless vengeance, threatening to take her breath away.

It came in the form of icy blue eyes that she never saw but somehow knew so well.

It came in the form of strong cheek bones and a well-defined nose her pale fingers loved to trace.

It came in the form of a soothing, baritone voice dripped with sarcasm and adoration.

It came in the form of warm, strong arms and soft lips she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Sokka….

The very thought of his name alone unleashed old demons she had been hiding deep within herself and began to consume her.

At first the memories and sensations that engulfed Toph were nothing but pure bliss. She could hear his beautiful chuckle, his smooth voice cracking joke after joke. She could feel his arms wrapping around her and holding her against his chest. She could feel him as if he was right there, embracing her and brushing his fingers against her wrinkled cheeks. His voice mingled through the warm spring breeze, tingling her ears.

“Why? Why did you make me leave?”

Her fragile body went rigid at the sound of his melancholy, heartbroken voice. Toph’s heart fluttered with terror and if she wasn’t blind, she was convinced she would see his ghost standing before her. He would be pale and translucent. Any hint of his dark water tribe coloring gone…. the same coloring, he claimed her youngest daughter Su’yin possessed. His face would be hallowed and forlorn… the same expression she vividly pictured painted on his pristine face when she forced him to leave.

Toph screwed her eyes shut. Her lips pursed together in a thin line as impenetrable as stone. What little warmth she had evaporated into the air. She felt as cold as ice, frozen from the depth of her soul to each little strand of her ebony hair. Gone were the beautiful, bright memories of laughter, strong and inviting embraces and kisses over every inch of her face and neck. A cold shock of bitter regret swarmed throughout her limbs, making her shiver and shutter. Only one memory replaced them and threatened to consume her very being.

It was the sound of familiar footsteps step slowing, unwillingly walking away from her. It was the sound of a voice low and horse from battle, the voice of a man brought to his knees.

“I know I don’t need to ask you this…”

“Just say it meathead!” She had snapped. Toph had fallen so deep in her memories she hadn’t realized the words had slipped out in a jumbled rasp.

“Take care of my girls for me and make sure they know how much I love them.” His footsteps grew father and farther and farther away. A door opened and swung shut with a thud.

In reality she had stood resolute in her metal armor, arms crossed against her chest. She had ignored the burning in her eyes and the throb in her chest. Her lips had burned with words she had wanted to scream.

Now, as she was lost in a world of her own did they see the light of day.

“No.” Toph croaked. Her weak voice sounded like a violent shout in a space overwhelmed by weary silence.

“Please don’t go..” She begged, attempting in vain to lift her thin arms to reach for Sokka. Toph was unaware of her loved ones rushing and heir words of panic. She was far too busy trying to rush out the door to reach Sokka before he was gone for good.

“Don’t go! Don’t go!”

Her chest rose with a loud gasp as her bony fingers gripped the delicate sheets below her. What had been a horse whisper turned into a loud, desperate screech. Her arms started to lift, her deteriorating body straightening.

All she could picture was Sokka walking away, his back turned to her and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Her legs began to swing over, her feet ready to hit the floor. It was only a gentle, firm grip on her shoulders and a familiar voice calling out “Mom!” that brought her back to reality.

Lin…

The sound of her low, commanding voice twinged with panic was enough to bring Toph back to reality. She blinked; her chest full of rocks as she gasped for air. She could feel Lin’s hands carefully press her back on to the feathery mattress. Before Toph knew what had happened her head was once more on the pillow and she was cocooned in thick quilts.

“It’s okay. Just… just rest chief.” Lin ordered, her voice soft and gruff. Toph could only gawk in the direction of her eldest daughter’s voice. Despite having regained some semblance of a relationship, Lin’s uncharacteristically ginger touch and careful actions left her stunned.

After all, Toph couldn’t remember the last time Lin had called her “Mom” in such a small, scared voice.

Toph reached out and grabbed Lin’s hand, encasing her bony fingers around her daughter’s surprisingly petite hand. Lin tensed under her touch, holding her breath as her eyes went wide.

“Please stay.” Toph asked. Lin felt her heart begin to shatter at the sound of her mother’s voice so trail and weak. She couldn’t bare the sight of her commanding mother so fragile and tiny. For a moment all she could do was stare and pray she had simply fallen into some twisted nightmare.

Of course, she hadn’t.

Her mother’s bony, frigid hand felt all too real. The growing panic in her chest and pit in her stomach were far too intense. Those pale, milky eyes were brimming with panic and confusion. The once towering woman resembled a diminutive, sickly child instead of the stoic, dominating figure she had known.

What else was there for Lin to do but sit on the bed and give her mother’s hand a tender squeeze.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Lin said. Toph let out a slow breath and fluttered her cloudy eyes. She held on to her daughter with all the strength she had.

“Su, come here.” She croaked, her eyes searching for another figure. Gentle footsteps rushed over to her and a new weight sat on the other side of the bed. Without a moment’s hesitation Su’yin took Toph’s free hand into her own. They held onto each other as tightly as they could.

“I’m here Mom. I’m here.”

Toph felt her breathing begin to slow. She could feel a ray of warmth begin to consume her bit by bit as her eyes began to flutter. There was nothing but peace as she sat silently with her loves.

She hoped the girls felt the endless strength she always tried to show. She hoped they knew how grateful she was that they were there… even all she had put them through and all the mistakes she had made.

Above all else, Toph prayed her girls knew how much she truly loved them.

They would always be her blessings.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Su, Lin?”

The sisters looked up towards the familiar voice. They had been sitting at a small table, their lips pursed in hard lines and their eyes glued onto the faded wood.

Their Aunt Katara was a welcomed break in the heavy silence.

The water tribe maiden was even older than their mother. Her dark skin was grooved with deep wrinkles. Her once deep brunette hair had turned a snowy white. Yet she held a gleaming tray with delicate cups of tea as if it was nothing but a feather. Her movements were still as graceful as ever-if slower than in her glory days.

“I know nothing can truly help, but I thought some tea would at least warm you up.” She said, carefully placing the tray in front of the sisters.

“Thank you Aunt Katara.” Suyin said, her lips curling into a small smile. She reached forward and took one of the fragile cups. Her eyes trailed to the brown liquid as she let the drink warm her hands.

It was amazing how frigid she could feel on such a lovely spring day.

“I just can’t believe she’s really gone…” Suyin whispered, her voice quivering.

“I know sweetie… I know.” Katara glanced over to Lin, her heart sinking at the sight. Lin sat as stiff as ice, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes staring out the window. Katara reached towards the metal clad woman and gently laid her hand on Lin’s arms.

“Do you want some tea?” Lin shook her head, refusing to look at either woman sitting beside her.

“You can have it.” She muttered. Katara nodded, her thin lips twisting into a faint smile. She patted Lin’s arm before reaching over and bringing the cup to her lips. She let the warm, soothing concoction swallow her grief and keep her smile on her face.

She may have lost one of her best friends, but they had lost their mother. It didn’t matter that they were well into middle age-and in Lin’s case almost passed that dreaded age gap. It didn’t matter how strained their relationship had been or how flawed Toph had been.

A mother was still a mother, and Katara knew more than anyone the hole such a lost left. It was one a soul could never truly heal from. The last thing she desired was to add to their confusion and fear and loss. She prayed with all of her might she could protect that whole from consuming them whole.

Yet there was a great burden she was tasked with-not just by Toph but by someone even closer and dearer. Katara gingerly sat her cup on the table and sighed, staring at the worn wood beneath her fingers.

“Listen girls I know you’re still processing everything… but there’s something your mother wanted me to give you.” Two pairs of vibrant, emerald eyes snapped towards her-both filled with urgent curiosity. Katara felt a shiver creep down her spine.

Those eyes… those beautiful green orbs full of steely resolved mirrored Toph’s. A lump began to from in her throat, and her hands began to tremble.

The fact she would never see those eyes again filled her such dread. Old grief filled scars she had fought so hard to heal began to split open, threatening to spill through every tiny pour and cell.

Yet Katara willed her hands to still and swallowed her burning tears. She reached her hands into her pocket and pulled out two faded sheets of paper. One had Lin etched in a weak scrawl, and the other had Su.

“Letters?” Lin questioned, her eyebrows raising to her hairline.

“Yes.” Katara nodded. She leaned over and carefully placed the withered sheets of paper in their hands.

“She had them for a while. She… she wanted me to wait until this moment to give them to you.” The sisters stared and gawked at the letters. They were oblivious to the sound of a scratching hair and slow, shuffling footsteps. Even Katara’s warm, motherly touch couldn’t break their trance.

“I’m going to leave you two be. I’ll be here if you need anything.” She gave their shoulders a tender squeeze before making her way out of the room.

Su’yin blinked as the door closed with a gentle click. She held her breath, refusing to look away from the letter in her hands. Her fingers ran over the rough, faded paper.

It was clear from the many wrinkles and the hard crease that it had been handled extensively. She could picture her mother’s steady hands opening and closing it and opening and closing it. There was no way she could have read the letter-or even written it for that matter. Yet Su’yin could imagine her mother’s thin, pale fingers running over the smooth letters.

Fingers that were both unspeakably warm and loving as they traced and trailed her features.

“Mama just wants to get a good look at her pretty little badger mole.”

Su’yin’s own fingers gripped the paper tighter at the thought of her mother. Her eyes began to sting and her throat went raw. The empty pit in her stomach grew larger and larger, threatening to consume her whole.

Every inch of Suyin’s being wanted to set the letter on the table and pretend she had never laid eyes on it. After all what had needed to be said had poured out their souls years ago.

Why couldn’t her mother just let the past rest in peace?

“What could she want to tell us?”

“I’m not sure. Whatever it is, it was important enough for her to make someone write these.” Su’yin jumped at the sound of her sisters’ raw, rough tone. She hadn’t been aware her question had been uttered out loud. She locked eyes with Lin, letting her nerves begin to settle.

“Should… should we?” Su’yin asked, swallowing the question before she could finish it. Lin shook her head and with a flick of her hand let the letter fall.

“You can if you want.” Lin muttered. She turned her head away as Su’yin opened her letter. She tried to ignore her baby sister and squash the rumbling curiosity, yet it was impossible to ignore. She could hear the paper crinkle as Su’yin opened and attempted to smooth it. She could hear the letter in Su’s hands as her dainty fingers held it tight.

No matter how hard she tried Lin couldn’t quell her roaring interest. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Suyin read the letter. Her heart began to race as her sister’s tanned skin turned paler and her eyes went wider than the moon. Lin’s blank expression grew ever more intrigued and concerned. She waited and hoped for something-anything to tumble out of those thin lips. Her curiosity was growing louder and louder until it began to tare at her soul.

All she got was a loud gasp and a quivering hand to a small, pretty mouth.

“What Su? What does it say?” Lin barked, turning her whole body towards her sister. Suyin cleared her throat. She wiped her spilling tears with the palm of her hand and shook her head.

“It isn’t from Mom.” She croaked.

Lin blinked, taking in her sisters stunned, pallid face. Suyin let the letter collapse to the table and pushed it to Lin.

“It’s from… it’s from Uncle Sokka.”

“What?” Lin snapped, snatching the letter.

“He’s my father Lin.” Suyin whispered, her voice trembling as fresh tears flooded her eyes. “I’ve had my suspicions for a long time… Bataar Jr. could be his clone. But this just confirms it.” Her words were hallow and strained from fighting to keep her tidal wave of emotions under control.

Lin’s jaw hung open the letter threatening to slip from her fingers. Her blood ran hot, flushing her porcelain cheeks. Her nails began to dig into the yellowed paper. Each cylinder in her head was firing at full blast, threatening to combust at any moment.

There it was-proof of something she too had suspected.

Without a question of consideration for her crumbling sister Lin’s eyes darted to the faded page.

My Sweet Su,

If you’re reading this, I’m long gone and so is your mom. Your Aunt Katara gave this to your mom, with instructions to hold on to it until we were both gone. I wrote a letter for Lin too, but I would be shocked if she actually read it.

There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it. I’m your father. You’re a smart woman though and I know you’ve already had a hunch about who I really am.

Bataar Jr. is proof enough. Even I was shocked at how much we look alike. But what can I say? My genes are strong!

Anyway…

I’m so sorry I never told you the truth love bug. Your mother and I wanted to; we really did. We couldn’t though. You have to understand with her being the chief of police- aka the person who enforces the law- and me being a councilman- aka the person who creates the law-it would have looked bad, and that’s an understatement.

More importantly we didn’t want Lin to fell confused or jealous or out of place because her father was a no good no show dead-

I’m sorry I’m getting a head of myself. The point is that is why I’ve always been Uncle Sokka. It was easier and safer.

I know you must think I’m also a no good, no show dead beat. I did leave, but it was only because I had no other choice. My father-your grandfather- had died, and it was my duty to take his place as chief of the Southern Water Tribe. It was one of the hardest choices I ever had to make, and it tore my heart apart to have to leave you… and I really wish I hadn’t. However, your mother wanted me to leave-at least that’s what she said. I don’t want you to be mad at her love bug. She had her reasons and though I hate admitting it she was right. People were starting to pick up on just how close we truly were and more importantly you were beginning to look too much like me. It was the hardest decision we ever had to make (no matter what your mother said), and there’s nothing I could say without it sounding like a terrible excuse.

The bottom line is I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you and Lin like I should have been… like I wanted to be. If I could there would be so many things I would do different. I would have fought harder, I would have been stronger and I would have realized that my girls were far more important than duty. I would have staid no matter what the consequences.

But if there’s one thing I will never, ever regret it’s becoming your father. You are without of doubt one of the best things that ever happened to me and the love of my life.

I love you my little love bug and I miss you so much it hurts. I’ll be waiting for you wherever I end up, but don’t you dare come until you’re old and decrepit like I am.

Love,

Dad

Lin’s hands collapsed to the table. Her eyes appeared ready to pop out of her head as she gawked at nothing in particular. Her flaming blood and racing heart were frozen with incredulity. All the while her thoughts were spiraling.

“He wrote ME a letter?” Lin’s thoughts sputtered.

Why did he write her a letter?

What did said letter say? Surely it couldn’t be filled with the same painful regrets and grand declarations of love.

Surely, she couldn’t have meant much to a man who as far as she was concerned attempted to raise her out of pity… and left.

Above all else there was more to the story, more that she hungered for. There were truths and secrets hidden beneath the flowery phrases, secrets that refused to be shattered.

There was only one person who could give her the answers.

“What the flameo?! Come on Su.” Lin snarled.

“Wait Lin-HEY!” before Su’yin had a chance to collect herself, to try and wrap her head around the load released on her thin frame, her hand was stuck in Lin’s iron grip and her feet were stumbling across the floor.

“Slow down will you!” She howled, attempting to wriggle her hand free.

It was no use. Lin’s vision tunneled and turned flaming red. Her very being was consumed by one task and one task only;

Find Katara and get the full story. Su’yin’s wriggling and protest were nothing but a gust of hot wind and tiny bug bites.

“You’re going to break my hand!!!” Su’yin cried, rolling her shoulders back and pulling her arm back as hard. All she earned was a strong burst of pain shooting through her arm and shoulder.

“Lin please tell me what is going on?!” The graying, fuming woman swung her head over her shoulder, throwing her sister a wild glare. Su’yin felt her temperature drop as a low growl rumbled from deep within Lin’s chest.

“There’s more to this story.” Lin spat, swirling her head straight forward once more. “I suspected Councilmen Sokka

“Really Lin? Councilman? Is that what you’re going to keep calling him?”

“I suspected Councilmen Sokka was your true father for a while now. He didn’t tell us everything in that letter and he’s certainly not going to say anything in mine. Mom obviously didn’t want to tell us anything either. We have to know what happened. I….”

I want to know why he left us.

The words vanished on her tongue, mingling with the delicate air. The pair once again fell into silence, one huffing and violently red while the other slumped in defeat.

After mere moments Lin had dragged her sister to her desired location. With her free hand Lin gripped the sleek doorknob and swung the door open, letting it fly and smash against the wall.

“Lin!” Su’yin hollered.

“Oh no she looks possessed.” Lin glared at the tall, dark skinned, ebony haired young woman sitting next to Katara on the floor. The young woman stared back; her blue eyes filled with a stunned if slightly amused expression.

“Korra this doesn’t involve you!” Lin hissed. Katara threw her aged, spotted hands in the air. She stood with a surprising if cautious ease and grace. Korra could only watch in awe as Katara moved straight to the steaming Lin. She placed two hands on Lin’s shoulders and stared straight into her clouded, emerald eyes.

“First things first, let your sister go before you break her hand.” Lin whipped her head around, finally taking in her sister’s dainty features twisted in pain.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, letting her sister’s hand fall to her side.

“Good. Now let me guess you two read your letters.” Katara began, keeping her hands firmly on Lin’s shoulders. Lin crossed her arms and gave a sharp nod.

“We read Su’s and we want answers.” Lin demanded.

“You didn’t read yours Lin?” Katara asked, her soul heavy with disillusionment. Why she clung to any hope Lin would read her letter was beyond her comprehension. “I really think you shou”

“It doesn’t matter! We want the whole story.” Su’yin stepped next to her sister, gingerly cradling her aching hand.

“Please Aunt Katara? We need to know the whole story. We… we need to know why he left us.” Katara took in both of their faces-one filled with unholy determination and the other brimming with a quiet plea.

She let out a slow, foiled sigh as she finally let go of Lin’s humming frame.

“All right. I’ll tell you everything. Korra sweetie we’ll have to continue our conversation later.”

“No.” Su’yin shook her head. “No more secrets… not anymore. She can stay if she wants.” Korra beamed with glee, tucking her long strands of hair behind her ears as she sat perfect erect.

“Ooooo! I love a good story-especially if it’s about Chief Sokka. I’m in!”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #tokka #toph beifong #sokka #toph x sokka #sokka is suyins father

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dercolaris · 3 years

Text

Freeze

Another day, another story. Sort of. This time about Nora and Victor Fries. I mean, why not? It’s horrible sad. Light smut, but it’s not the main focus of the story. Nora x Victor, post Arkham Knight.

@shin-arei, thanks again. I know it’s always hard for you to read my stuff. Sorry :/

A loud, almost threatening crack accompanied the rusty ship, making the blonde-haired woman flinch more than often to the strange sounds around her. Her blue eyes slid to the misted porthole and watched the unique spectacle on the deadly water. The sharp-edged metal of the ship cut through the thick pack ice and eased its way across the wild ocean. Nora pulled the blanket tighter around her narrow shoulders, then put her arms around her freezing torso. How long have they been on the sea? Probably a week, maybe two. The former dancer blinked tiredly, finally resting her cheek on one of her knees, breathing calmly in and out, totally overwhelmed by her chaotic surroundings. Her body grew weaker with every passing day. Only a fraction of the former muscle strength in her best times as a committed dancer was left and any effort to do something ended faster than she would have liked in sheer exhaustion to the point at which she could no longer get up on her own. Her end was imminent. Even if her husband tried vehemently to deny it, she would die in the next few days or even hours. The woman brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and maneuvered it behind her left ear. A small smile crept onto her pale lips. Despite this horrific fact, she felt more relaxed than ever before. Huntington's disease had visibly wiped out the blond-haired woman's body, but one thing had never been able to steal by the destructive protein in her brain: the indomitable will to live. Nora was enjoying every single moment with Victor now, probably more than before. The tall man was quite simply the fulfillment of her dreams and his fierce fight for her life only confirmed his absolute loyalty and especially the good intentions he had always cherished. The cryologist was probably anything that was thrown at him from the scared citizen of Gotham, just not a bad person. The former dancer closed her eyes for a moment. It had hurt immensely to see him suffer all these years. Every day Victor had stood in front of her specially developed cold chamber and told her in detail what he had experienced or discovered. There was so much hope in his violated soul, which was never completely ripped away even with the countless setbacks in his life. Until the end he had firmly believed in healing her disease. Now the die was finally cast. Finally.

Nora opened her eyes and listened to the telltale crack of the ice. Her husband never stopped telling her how much he loved her. Even now he seemed intent on letting her know at every little opportunity. His feelings were the strongest contrast to his tragic existence as a dreaded Mr. Freeze. As much as the cold flowed through his hypothermic veins, the boiling emotions burned hot in his unchanged human chest. The blonde-haired woman looked casually at the clock, tried to make out what time it was. Not an easy task. The ship was wavering harder than the hour before and robbed the woman of her clear view. Presumably they would get into a heavy snow storm in the next few minutes. After a few seconds, she finally gave up looking at the clock. In fact, time wasn't really that important to any of them anymore. There were more important things than following the hands on a clock face. A loud rumble came through the crew area of the ship. Nora looked curiously at the door and immediately felt a strong pull in her lungs. Suddenly she began to cough violently, instinctively holding her hand over her mouth. The coughing attack lasted for a few excruciatingly long seconds, then vanished as suddenly as it came. The woman gasped exhausted and looked at her trembling hand, slightly wrinkled her nose at the actually terrifying sight. Deep red blood on very pale skin. She wiped her palm on a handkerchief, tossed the previously white cloth in the direction of the already overflowing trash can. The rumble grew louder, moving steadily towards the cabin. The dancer looked at the open door with a faint smile and waited to see the stunning figure of her beloved husband. He was still beautiful, even if the years had marked him too. Clearly. Suddenly the cryologist stepped over the threshold, the milky visor of the survival suit was open like the last few days. His unusually cool blue eyes met her soft opals. Even if his eyes seemed frozen to many outsiders, undying love shimmered from under the eternal ice. The tall man sauntered cautiously into the cabin, holding onto a rusty desk when the ship suddenly swayed. He tried to manage a smile, but failed miserably in the endeavor. The sadness seemed to be slowly eating him away. Nora offered him her delicate hand, waiting for her better half to take it. Victor pushed himself from the table and staggered over to the bed, got down on one of his knees and closed the chunky gloves around her fragile fingers. The blond-haired woman put her other hand on his cheek, caressing his bluish skin tenderly. She whispered softly: “Please Victor. Don't make it harder for yourself than it already is. You did everything you could for me. Really – everything. It's enough.” The tall man's face didn't change a bit, but only the expression in his eyes showed how much he struggled with himself. Even now part of him was still convinced that he could save her and continue the harmonious life that they had once led before her illness. Despite this remaining hope, it could also be read in his face that he was gradually facing the cruel reality. The cryologist knew that there would be no nice happy ending in their very own story like in the countless Hollywood movies they had seen together in the cinema during their admittedly short but very happy marriage. Nora squeezed her husband's hand tighter, knowing that he probably wouldn't feel the touch beneath the strong leather.

If only she could somehow soothe his inner doubts. What words to choose if neither was able to express what was going on in both of them? Their souls spoke a shared language that people around them had rarely really been able to understand. Often glances were enough to give the other an unmistakable recognition that their love was unconditional and that it would probably last forever. Victor suddenly sighed softly, his blue eyes looking sadly down at their hands. He replied calmly: “I don't know what to think anymore, Nora. I've been trying to find a cure for you for more than a decade and now...” The tall man broke off abruptly in the middle of his sentence. The woman was startled to watch a small tear slide down his cheek. It slowly crystallized on the cold skin, then froze to ice and fell to the floor with a clang. The splinters were distributed on the metallic surface. The former dancer felt how her heart wanted to burst into thousands of pieces in her chest, just like the ice on the floor. She leaned up carefully, hovered over her husband's cool lips for a moment. Without waiting any longer, she kissed him very lovingly, gently caressing the cryologist's bony cheek. He paused, seemed for a moment taken by surprise by the unexpected gesture. It took a few seconds until he finally returned the kiss longingly. The blonde-haired woman released the touch carefully and breathed on his lips: "And what now? Victor, please listen to me for a second. You have proven to me more than once that you are ready to give yourself up for me and really sacrifice yourself in terms of your love, but this fight should now be over. I can no longer bear your inner suffering. It literally breaks my heart to see that you still blame yourself for my illness. I beg you, Victor - let me finally go.” The tall man swallowed loudly. Apparently a tight knot had formed in his throat. He looked deeply into her eyes, looking for a glimmer of hope to change the inevitable fate. Nora smiled gently and shook her head slightly, feeling an all-pervasive shiver go through her weak body. Something in her mind told her it was almost time. These would probably be the last minutes of her life. Contrary to logic, however, it was not fear that she felt.

A look into her husband's blue eyes calmed her previously troubled mind and gave her to understand that she was safe, even if she had to leave now. The former dancer had a rare privilege that most people would probably be denied: she was allowed to die in the presence of her only love. The blond-haired woman had offered Victor, despite her unspeakable fear, not to have to watch her inevitable death and to let her rest in the cabin until her time had finally come. Fortunately, the cryologist had assured her immediately that she would not be left alone during the most difficult hours of her life. He had then repeated the vow he had given her at their wedding: until death do them part. As promised, he had seldom left her side in the past few days and even when he was gone he had made sure through a camera in the room that his wife would not pass away without him. Victor was clearly too good for this world. The former dancer's eyes suddenly became sluggish and an unknown force literally pulled her back onto the soft mattress. She looked into her husband's face, held his hand tightly. The cryologist moved closer to the bed and gently placed his other hand over hers. He, too, seemed to sense that the time to say goodbye had come. Nora coughed loudly into her hand again, then asked carefully after a short pause: "May I ask you for one last favor, Victor?" The tall man nodded silently. The woman, trembling, stroked a strand of hair that had meanwhile been damp with sweat from her wet forehead and expressed her wish calmly: “Would you sleep with me? Just like when we shared a bed for the first time, young and naive, without any experience. Let me remind again how I found the love of my life.” The cryologist seemed to have forgotten to breathe for a moment. Finally he rose slowly and loosened the heavy helmet from the latches on his neck, carefully removing it from his head. There was a loud hissing sound as the latches on his suit also opened. The tall man slowly took off his second shell, and ended up standing in front of her bed in faded, partially frozen work trousers. Nora grabbed the waistband of the cold cloth and helped her husband out of the pants. All the fighting in the past years had left quite a mark on his once pristine body.

Deep, sometimes strangely overgrown scars stretched across the bluish skin. The former dancer sat up with the greatest effort and traced the notches with a few fingers, following every bump, no matter how small they were, on his chest. The cryologist shuddered at her touch, then finally put his knees on the mattress. He pressed her on her shoulders almost tenderly on the bed and slid over her frail shell, looking her in the eye without even dare to look away. Nora put her delicate hands on his neck, ignoring the coldness that emanated from her lover. Reluctantly, he opened the blanket wrapped around his wife, slipped into the gap and closed the fabric again around their trembling bodies. The blond-haired woman sucked her breath deep into her lungs. The warmth on the bed disappeared under an all-consuming coolness. Despite this fact, she enjoyed being close to her husband again and didn't want to miss it for anything in the world. Victor helped her out of the several layers of clothing until she too was finally lying naked under him. Nora let out a gush of misty breath from her mouth and whispered barely audibly: "I love you, Victor." With that, she sealed their lips in a sensual kiss. The cryologist gasped softly into the tender touch and gently pushed her legs apart, after a while felt his fingers against her vulva. The former dancer winced because of the unfamiliar cold and unintentionally interrupted the long-awaited kiss. Against the worried look of her lover, she nodded meaningfully and lay down in a more comfortable position. The tall man studied her face breathlessly and carefully placed his right hand around the half erect penis, slowly leading it to the moist opening of his still beautiful wife. She slowly closed her legs around Victor's hips, resting expectantly on the soft mattress. After a while he carefully entered the former dancer and lingered quietly in the almost unknown warmth of his partner. Nora gave a throaty moan, clutching her husband's neck tighter. She caressed the hypothermic skin and showed him by slight movements of her pelvis that he didn't have to wait any longer. The cryologist willingly complied with her request, starting a leisurely, passionate rhythm. The blonde-haired woman gasped softly and relaxed her eyes closed, savoring this moment to the fullest.

Her thoughts drifted away, lost in memories of every beautiful moment she was allowed to share with Victor. Starting with their shy acquaintance, through an unusually harmonious teenage love to their wonderful wedding. All of the forgotten emotions were suddenly as present as they were then. Nora groaned hoarsely her husband's name and clutched his neck, finally stroking aimlessly over his bony back. The pleasure overwhelmed her, with a creeping heaviness just as noticeably slowly taking over her body. It was only marginally that Victor was getting closer and closer to his climax too. In spite of this, he didn't get rougher or more impatient, no, he obviously took his time. Time that they actually didn't have. Still, the blonde-haired woman knew that they both had wanted it no different and enjoyed it equally. The orgasm developed unhindered. An overwhelming, electrifying feeling twitched through her veins, filling her mind with a blissful calm and relaxation. She gasped in exhaustion, her hands resting gently on her lover's hips. The blue eyes found his own, looked once more into one of the most beautiful souls in this universe under an emerging blackness. With this thought the world went dark around her, the last bit of tension slipped out of her body. Before Nora passed out of life completely, she heard Victor's voice sounding far away: “I love you too, Nora. Please wait for me in eternity."

#DC #Batman #Nora Fries #Victor Fries #Mr.Freeze #ArkhamVerse #ArkhamKnight

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Note

Yohoo~! Can i request a scenario where s/o is akaashi’s long time crush and v popular in their school, always smiling to people left and right but she’s suicidal and depressed when no one’s around and akaashi discover it one day? I hope you understand what im saying haha, thank you~!

A/N: I hope you enjoy anon! For anyone who feels this way, it’s always better to talk it out rather than bottle it in, I learned this the hard way :’) // I’ve made the reader female, if that’s alright with you!

P.S: next request is a sequel everyone’s been waiting for ;)) can you guess?

tacenda. | akāshi keiji

word count: 1804

warnings: depressive and suicidal themes!

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

16 years old and Akaashi had never seen you cry. Not even once.

He recalled it from the moment he’d known you. From the lengthy days in grade school up until the wee hours in high school. Not a single tear had left the premises of your face.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

When the both of you were in first grade, he had watched you stumble and roll onto the coarse surface of a gravel road. Your knee had gotten helplessly scratched, the injury pulsing with deep, crimson liquid. At the sight of the open wound, your friends had cried and cried, whining about how the indomitable L/N Y/N had been overpowered by a simple road.

Akaashi had watched you from afar that day, the cacophonous cries of your volatile friends pulling his attention away from the family of stag beetles nesting in a tree.

Girls will cry at just about everything, he had thought, the shrillness of your friends’ lament boring into his head. I think Y/N’s going to cry too. I should probably go look for Kaneko-sensei—

“Hey, hey. I’m fine, see? You guys are such crybabies, Rui, Akarin.”

Akaashi’s face had whitened like a blank sheet, unable to correctly register the tone of your voice. Even your friends had stopped crying at your lukewarm reaction.

Your knee had been oozing out blood like a spilled bottle of ketchup, yet there you were, completely impervious to the obvious pain that your wound displayed, laughing and smiling like you always did.

It was from that day that Akaashi realized you were much harder to crack than you seemed to be.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Ten years into the present, Akaashi Keiji still hasn’t had you solved.

Ten years into the present, you were still the well-liked, striking L/N Y/N he had known since he was six. In fact, you were even somewhat more dazzling each day. It didn’t dismiss the thought that you were an indomitable puzzle he was raring to decipher.

“If you ask me, L/N-senpai’s way cooler than any of the boys. Yesterday, she saved me from a speeding car on the way to school!”

“That’s so lucky, Mayumi-chan! Oh man, I would do anything to trade places with you.”

“When she spoke to me, I felt my insides tingle and everything… is that what it’s like to be in the presence of a deity?”

Lunch time was the only tolerating hour for Akaashi to eavesdrop on any of the school’s ongoing sensations without having to be called out for it. Like any other day, one of today’s hot topics was you.

Ears growing bigger by the second, he caught bits and pieces of the astonished first-year girls’ conversation. As they walked off into a corner, he managed to hear something along the lines of ‘beautiful’, ‘goddess’ and ‘confess’—but even that wasn’t new to his ears.

Yes, you were charming, kind-hearted and an absolute delight to be around but that didn’t even bring him closer to the truth behind your impossible perfection. His acquaintance with you from childhood didn’t do him any favors either, which was a downright pain-in-the-ass.

After all, Akaashi figured, if he was finally going to officially proclaim his feelings to you, he’d have to have at least a tiny grain of yours.

“Hey, Akaashi. You’re awfully quiet today. You good, man?” the captain of the volleyball club poked at him, stuffing his face with his second loaf of yakisoba-pan.

Sighing, Akaashi recollected his composure. “I’m alright, Bokuto-san… and please don’t eat while talking, you’ll choke yourself if you do.”

Bokuto said something, mouth full of yakisoba, bread and variants of sauce, but it all fell deaf on Akaashi’s ears because he had already picked up another conversation about you…

“Man, L/N’s trying out for a student council position again this year, right? That girl’s got a mad stamina when it comes to volunteer work.”

“Yeah…”

The conversation seemed to stray into the usual topics, but there was a malicious undertone that kept Akaashi’s ears on guard.

“…But don’t you think she’s just a desperate try-hard? Sometimes, she seems kind of shallow to me…”

‘Shallow’. That was definitely new. It was new, but it was irrefutably wrong.

Akaashi felt acid rising to his head. His teeth bit into his bottom lip, hard enough to possibly draw blood. He wanted to get up. He wanted to get up and beat the crap out of that guy.

But sitting in the spectator’s seat like always, Akaashi could only frown and watch. You were the star of the show and he was your closet fanatic—his abilities limited to throwing you congratulatory roses at every occasion. He would kill to share that spotlight with you.

The cafeteria began to clear up and Akaashi recollected his thoughts before returning to class. Class 2-6 had Modern Literature for last period—Akaashi wondered if his day could get any worse.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Practice ran late again with Bokuto’s persistent pleas for him to set for his ‘new’ variant of a cross spike.

Bokuto-san just wanted to do a cross spike while shouting ‘Hadouken’. Akaashi thought. What’s the difference from his usual spikes? I don’t get it…

Akaashi felt a wrinkle settling on his forehead as he double locked the clubroom for good measure. The captain’s insistence had prevented him from submitting the form for a school bus reservation—in fact, it had been Bokuto’s job in the first place. Akaashi couldn’t blame him though; Bokuto’s image didn’t exactly line up very well with paperwork and the Student Council (unless, of course, if it involved trumpeting about himself in front of its female members).

To his relief, the Student Council office was always open until 8:30 pm. It was now 8:15 pm. It would take him only a couple of minutes to drop off their form in the inbox bin. Then, Akaashi could finally sink himself in the warm clutches of his bathtub, surrounded by steam and the maybe that aromatic bath oil his aunt gifted him from Okinawa…

However, upon noticing the light streaming out of the rectangular, translucent window of the office accompanied with a faint sniffle from within, Akaashi felt his blood run cold.

It’s only 8 pm. It’s impossible. Ghosts don’t roam around student council offices, right…? I hardly think they’d come to this high school either… Oh no. How did that prayer Grandmother taught me go again?

Swallowing sharply, Akaashi’s fingers took the shape of the door handle and he pushed, eye screwed tight against whatever was going to greet him. “S-sorry for the i-intrusion.”

“Akaashi-kun?”

Akaashi let out a guttural noise inside his throat, teeth pinned to a grimace. Pupils adjusting to your slouched figure, he sighed, relieved that you weren’t any form of a Yuki Onna. However, your eyes were bloodshot, hair sticking up in various places. Any traces of your “perfect” appearance had been washed away with the tears that scarred your cheeks.

Looking at you in this state shattered Akaashi.

“I’m sorry.”

Meeting your darkened gaze, Akaashi murmured, “What?”

“I’m a selfish person for saying this, but I don’t want any of it anymore.”

Akaashi didn’t know how he didn’t notice the glint of a silver blade encircled by your fist until you pointed its tip at the upside of your wrist. He didn’t even think by then. He didn’t even think about the reservation form he dropped on the floor. He didn’t even count the steps he took to bound over the meeting table. He didn’t even think about how roughly he yanked your wrist away, knocking the cutter into a dark corner of the room.

He didn’t even think when he shouted, “Don’t!”

You furrowed your brows, palms clenching in resistance to his iron grip. “Are you stupid?!”

Akaashi’s hold on your arms slackened at your words, but he knew better than to let you go.

“I can’t take it anymore. It’s all too much!” more tears clump at your eyes, threatening to spill on Akaashi’s uniform slacks. “I tried! I tried to make everyone happy, but all they did was hurt me. It’s all my fault I’m like this. Please let me go, Akaashi-san…”

Your voice grew soft as your cries receded into gentle hiccups swaying in the windless room.

“Please let me end this…”

Akaashi felt the same acid from this afternoon bubble in his throat again, but this time he made sure it spewed. “Are you stupid, L/N-san? You can’t make others’ happy unless you’re happy yourself. Everyone knows that, you idiot!”

Akaashi felt his insides crumble as soon as his head registered the fact that he had called you, the most popular second-year at Fukuroudani, an idiot. But at least his words had stunned you so deeply you fell silent.

“Do things that make you happy, L/N-san,” he spilled, filter for words dissolved into nothingness. “It’s okay to take breaks and say no. Talk it out with someone you’re comfortable with. I’m even more positive that your friends will be happier if you were honest with them about your feelings. But doing things like…”

Akaashi’s attention caught the teasing shine of the cutter next to a potted plant.

“…this, would just make them miserable, won’t it? You may not see it, but everyone admires you. I admire you too. I would give anything to be like you. Kind, patient and all the more charming… You may not see it, but a lot of people are already happy just with your existence. That was you, L/N-san. You made them happy.”

Your gaze turned to that of a defeated puppy. A stray tear rolling down your cheek, you slid your arms down to take Akaashi’s hands in yours. In the midst of all the tension, his hands really felt like a warm bowl of miso soup. You really wanted to drink it all up to a finish.

“I’m really sorry for all the trouble I caused you, Akaashi-san.”

“It’s alright. Sorry for calling you an ‘idiot’,” saying more things than necessary really tired him out, but his energy really knew no bounds when it came to you.

“I-I’m really sorry, ‘Kaashi-san…’M really s-sorry…”

The hiccups returned and the dam to the waterworks burst at the linger of your voice. Despite all your trembling, Akaashi made it a point to hold you like he was never going to let go. If he had known from long ago, he’d tell you every day that he loved you, regardless if the feeling was mutual or not.

But he didn’t say a word for the length of the evening that he held you. His embrace seemed loud as it already was.

Akaashi Keji was 16 years old when he first saw you cry. And he was only 16 years old when he promised he was never going to let you feel that way ever again.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji imagine #akaashi keiji scenario #sfw #fukurodani x reader #bruh haikyuu writing #akaashi x rader #keiji x reader

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