#which I doubt will happen because like I said I anticipate a slump but still cool! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imvenusasaboy · 8 days

Text

PUPARIA

Chapter 14 - The Place Where He Inserted The Knife

WARNING ⚠️ this chapter contains in depth discussion of disordered eating , please feel free to skip out if you think it necessary to.

prev - chapter 1

"I mean..." Jeanne winced a little as he spoke, his eyes fixated on the tea in front of him he stirred, "It's... It could be a possibility."

The shifter groaned in both despair and defeat, the absolute need for his theory to be validated being his top priority.

"Come on," He pouted, "I don't see any other explanation for all of this." Hosah leant in closer across the table for two, his eyebrows angled down as his eyes stared wide in anticipation for a response which he actually wanted to hear.

Jeanne shrugged, "I don't know, give it more time. They've only been outwardly pestering you for what, two, three weeks now?"

"So what, you just want me to sit and wait for it to escalate?" There was a certain kind of distress in Hosah's voice, one partly mixed with disbelief.

"That's what the police force told you, no?" Suddenly, Jeanne's blunt and nonchalant attitude had become extremely aggravating.

This wasn't the place to argue, though. The tea house was somewhere Hosah and his superior frequented, despite the shifters blatant preference towards coffee. Even though he never actually bought anything, the little hole in the wall parlour was a very enjoyable place to be, with the light coloured decor and pretty rococo aesthetics, it was certainly not the kind of place you'd want to be having verbal battles in.

Instead, Hosah slumped back into his intricately carved wooden chair in absolute defeat. The reactions he'd received from the proposal that the whole 'stalker situation' was just a red herring had made him doubt himself far more than he already did. If he didn't feel like a crazy person before, he definitely did now.

Sit and wait until your life is at risk. That was the advice the police force had given Hosah and his team when they brought all of the evidence of extensive stalking to their door. They were working alongside the agency on these strings of missing people and murders, surely they would know far too well how dangerous this individual was.

The shifter had seen it happen hundreds of times before. People just like himself would go to those who were supposed to protect them, only to be turned away because the threat isn't serious enough, and almost every time he'd seen it happen, those in his situation would be dead by the end of it. Hosah thought it'd be different for him. Having working in law, he thought maybe, just maybe, he'd be taken more seriously, but he wasn't. 'Sure, they've been inside of your home, but they've never made a threat against your life' was essentially what the shifter was told.

"I think you should request some time off," Jeanne's eyes finally met Hosah's as he spoke, "Go home, see your family, spend some time away from.." He waved his hands by the side of his head, although it didn't really help convey the message he was trying to send, "..all of this."

"That would be admitting defeat."

Jeanne took a moment before laughing in confusion, "If that's how you look at it." He shrugged.

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the quiet and peaceful atmosphere of the tearoom being a complete contrast to the previous weeks of the detective's lives. Despite this, Jeanne still looked like there was something on his mind. Something itching away at him, something that he clearly wanted to say, but was holding himself back for whatever reason.

"So.." The senior detective began, "You've moved into Edward's apartment now, right?"

Although the question seemed normal and mundane enough, the look on the almost ghostly pale detective's face said otherwise, as if he was bracing for impact from whatever Hosah would respond with.

"Yep." The contrastingly warm toned and tanned detective sitting opposite to Jeanne answered bluntly.

Hosah and Jeanne couldn't have looked less alike from each other. Complete polar opposites, the shifter's senior being particularly boy-ish, with rounded features and a short stature, his hair so black that in direct sunlight, it almost looked as if it were purple, distinctly standing out against his cool toned, icy white, almost porcelain skin. Hosah however, was a completely different story.

He had always been the darkest in his family, a trait his father told him must've been passed down from his late uncle, and everyone always pegged him as just a few years older than he really was with his facial bone structure being so sharp it made him look sort of sunken in. The people surrounding them in the tea house were probably perplexed to see such a sight, two individuals, nothing alike from each other on the surface, but with so many similarities and differences that perfectly balanced them out, a formula for the most ideal friendship.

"Are you happy?" Jeanne spoke, his expression having shifted to a much more relaxed, but still serious look.

The question caught the shifter completely off guard, expecting a 'Oh, what's it like?', or a 'Hows it going for you?'. Whether he was happy or not was not something he'd really thought much about, leaving him stumped for a moment as he considered all the different factors.

Teddy was sweet. He was funny. He had a lot of interesting stories to tell, and the more he let Hosah into his life before they'd met, the more he wanted to know. He was thoughtful and could always tell when something was up, although given the shifter's perpetual inability to hide his emotions, just about anyone could tell when he was riled up by something.

Sure, the apartment was in a constant state of borderline hoarder levels of clutter, it wasn't in the nicest of areas right along the outskirts of the city, the neighbours banged on all night either throwing parties into the early hours of the morning or seemingly rearranging their entire interior layout every single day without fail, but Teddy made up for it in his presence.

Just being in the general vicinity of the read headed man was enough for Hosah, as he carried a sort of glow that couldn't be seen by the human eye, creating a subconscious sense of ease and protection to the people he surrounded himself with. Hosah thought himself to be lucky to end up in such a situation. Forced proximity with a guy that fit his type to a T, it was all too perfect, like a romance novel or an idealistic dream.

".. Yeah." Hosah finally responded, although his answer was clear the second he began to really consider the question as a smile unknowingly spread wide across his face.

-~-

The shifter had gotten so carried away during his break, he'd almost completely forgotten the date and his allotted appointment time. September nineteenth at two in the afternoon. Fuck.

With barely a minute to spare, Hosah headed straight to the clinic, practically running from the tea house to the station as to not turn up late and make a bad first impression.

As he stood, sweating palms from growing nerves clinging to the strap hanger, Hosah came to the realisation that this was his first time in weeks being away from Teddy for so long.

Just as he'd been told barely a week into their friendship, Teddy had a fear of being alone in the city, an irrational fear of getting himself lost, a situation that would not be helped or avoided by company but still provided comfort either way, and this phobia had began to rub off on the shifter.

Standing in solitude, Hosah could no longer think about whatever mundane tasks the people around him were getting up to after their shared journey, only the fact that any of them could be out to get him in some way. As much as he'd liked to tell himself that his situation wasn't all that scary, he had to admit he'd been becoming uncharacteristically paranoid lately.

It started with hearing his name in crowds, or thinking something in his head and hearing his exact thought, verbatim, repeated by someone in his surroundings, then it grew to convincing himself people were staring from all angles, that they were tailing him on his walk home, that they were setting up trackers on his things as he'd get up to use the bathroom of a cafe.

Hosah knew there was room for chance and coincidence, that he wasn't thinking straight and was seeing the worst in people, but who could blame him for thinking in such a way after reading almost a hundred hand written letters detailing his daily routine?

In that moment, all the shifter wanted to do was get off at the next stop and run until his legs gave out, but instead he just froze up, standing as still as he possibly could, just as he did all of those years ago. That was probably his biggest flaw. There was no fight or flight instinct within him, only freeze. And freeze was exactly what he did, time and time again. As much as he hated himself for it, it was all he knew.

From that moment onward, the shifters brain was entirely in autopilot. His mind so crowded by all of the different possibilities and outcomes from every step he took blocking out the sound of the real world, making him dangerously unaware of his surroundings.

By a miracle, Hosah had managed to find his way to the clinic without being harmed. The waiting room was a pristine white from floor to ceiling, unlike his usual doctors office. The only thing that stood out against the minimalist decor was a sort of memorial display at the very front where a TV or a children's bead maze would usually be.

The lady in the portrait shone, clearly a part of some kind of orchestra as she held an instrument Hosah couldn't quite identify. Without even noticing, he'd gotten up to read the plaque, getting a closer look at the picture that hung proudly in the centre of the reception.

Kathleen 'Kat' Fatola-Aronov , beloved wife and mother, taken from us too soon. June 1st 1965 - December 24th 2005.

The lady in the portrait and Hosah shared the same birthday, he noted.

The display saddened the shifter as the console table beneath the portrait had its entire surface covered with fresh flowers and cards. He didn't dare to read them, already feeling as though he were peering into someone else's life, being almost as invasive as the stalker that followed him so closely.

Grief was not something Hosah was well acquainted with, but standing here and seeing the memory of this woman he didn't even know existed until walking into the clinic, he still felt a sense of sadness, but also one of relief and gratefulness. Kat's smile in the portrait was a very bright one, a look of pure love and joy captured to beautifully. She was a very pretty lady, her hair styled in the classically timeless 1930's finger waves and her makeup done in a similar aesthetic. Hosah had always had an appreciation for this era of fashion, so seeing it done so perfectly and in such a beautiful way aided in his sympathy for the truly unknown woman.

"That's my late wife." A loud, baritone voice appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a man no younger than fourty five stood almost directly behind the shifter.

Hosah wasn't really sure what to say, too taken aback by the sudden voice, only able to mutter a quiet 'I'm sorry'.

The man behind him was tall, but not quite as tall as Teddy. His figure was remarkably rectangular, his shoulders as broad as his feet were big, although his legs were long and slim in contrast. The badge on his coat read 'Doctor Aronov'. This was the man Hosah had come to see.

Rather than dragging on the topic, Doctor Aronov held out a wide, coarse hand, "You must be Detective Seung-Levi. I'm so pleased to be able to speak with you."

The way he phrased it, it sounded much more like a casual chat over coffee than a therapy session.

"It's just Levi, Seung is a middle name." Hosah corrected the doctor. Weird. Nobody had ever made that mistake before. In fact, nobody, including himself, really took notice of his middle name. Aside from his mother who picked it, of course.

"Ah, apologies, Detective Levi," The doctor began to walk away, encouraging Hosah to do the same, as he clarified, "Follow me this way,"

The clinic was weird, if anything. There was a front desk at the reception, but nobody sat at it. The overhead lights didn't buzz or have the yellow eyesore hue that was such a common factor amongst these kinds of settings. The furniture was all pristine, not a single sign of wear and tear on any aspect of the waiting area at all. It was almost as if it were a blank canvas, the only kinds of colour sticking out being Kat's memorial and all the flowers left out for her.

Doctor Aronov's office was no different, a glass table without a single smudge sat in the middle, with two large, leather beige arm chairs at either side. Hosah took a seat as the doctor's expectant eyes silently offered him one.

The shifter knew what to expect as he sat. An hour or so of his brain being put under a microscope as someone pushed and probed for more detail on all of his least favourite memories just so they could piece together an answer for why Hosah was the way he was. He'd always particularly hated these kinds of things. Physically being poked and prodded at was one thing, but his mind was an entirely different story. Living inside of his head was his only escape, and by any means necessary would it be a place where he and only he could go.

"Just to make sure we're on the same page," The doctor traced his finger along the bookshelf behind him before seemingly finding the correct file, "Why do you think you're here?"

The question was stupid. He knew why Hosah had come, it wasn't from his own fruition, he knew Hosah's personal doctor had called and arranged for the two to have an appointment together, which is probably why it took the shifter so long to come up with a response.

"I.. can't gain any weight, only loose it. And my doctor thinks it's more a mental problem than a physical one." That was the least of it.

In the time between his last check up and his appointment today, Hosah had spent a lot of time thinking it over. Doctor White was completely right in thinking such a thing, the shifter's attitude and behaviours were concerning at best, and completely self destructive at worst. It was true, there was probably something mentally wrong with Hosah that made him act this way around food and general eating patterns.

"Do you agree? Do you think it's a mental problem?" The Doctor's continued prolonged eye contact had become increasingly uncomfortable by this point.

Hosah wasn't sure if he was supposed to say his answer out loud.

"I mean..." The shifter debated whether he should tell the truth or not for a few more seconds, "At first I was really defensive, I'm an almost thirty year old man, not really the type of person you'd expect to have an.." He really didn't want to finish the sentence. Saying it out loud would make it all real.

"An eating disorder?" Doctor Aronov completed the sentence for him, with a sort of sickly sweet smile on his face as he said it, as if he found pleasure in handing out these kinds of diagnoses.

Hosah shrugged, "I guess so."

"You see," The doctor started in a sigh,

"We have this idea of eating disorders, that it's about wanting to look a certain way, or that it's an inherently female problem, but it's rarely about intentional weight loss at all, most people find themselves in these kinds of states because it gives them a sense of control. They can't control the events happening to them in their daily lives, but what they eat, that's what they have full control over. Most don't even realise they're doing it. It's not always the case, but it's, more often than not, how it manifests."

Hosah was looked at expectantly, but he had nothing to say. What Doctor Aronov had just described felt like an invasive look at the inside of the shifters brain, putting the parts he didn't even understand himself perfectly into words.

As if his privacy didn't feel violated enough with all that had been going on, this just had to be the icing on the cake.

He was right, through and through, every word described Hosah's experience almost exactly. No control. No realisation that he'd even been doing it. Over the past week or so, he hadn't really been counting the days as they'd all been blending together, since his last appointment, Hosah had taken to psychoanalysing his interactions with food. When Teddy made him dinner and he just couldn't eat it no matter how badly he wanted to. When he'd find himself swirling the same loaded fork around and moving everything across his plate to make it look touched, only to have not had a single mouthful. It was all too much.

By this point, the shifter had gone eerily silent, not even a breath could be heard as he'd been holding it in, his shoulders tense as he gripped each arm of the chair as if he were going to fall right off of it. Hosah's clammy hands were sure to imprint on the leather as he had his soundless breakdown.

"I know self-disclosure isn't always preferred to share so sparingly by people in my field, but, you can't always tell just by looking at someone what they could be going through." Hosah tried his best to listen, but honestly, his ears rang with a sharp buzz, making it hard to hear anything at all.

Still, although the shifter remained with his eyes fixed on the doctor's pointed dress shoes rather on at least his face, he continued,

"Kat, the lady with the memorial you were looking at, she's my wife. Was my wife, at least. She seemed to be healthy and happy on the outside, but even though her weight was normal, it still got the best of her. She tried to get help on her own but these kinds of recovery facilities, going impatient and what-not, that was reserved for what they consider emergencies,"

Doctor Aronov's slim square glasses began to fog up, his voice much more glum and serious,

"She suffered a heart failure, since she hadn't been eating right, or, really eating at all. She didn't look like she had an eating disorder, on the outside she seemed so... Nobody knew. I didn't even notice until I had no time left to help her. That's why I went back to school and chose to specialise in this particular range of disorders. People are suffering even when they're not physically showing it. And I wanted to help them. Will you let me help you, Hosah?"

Hosah could barely think through what he'd just been told before he found himself nodding.

"Do.. Do you think one particular event, just- just one, can change the outcome of someone's life, dictating how they think and all the choices they make, forever?" The words poured out of the shifters mouth like a broken faucet, unable to stop himself even as his eyes stayed locked on the floor under him.

Doctor Aronov laughed, although it wasn't as comforting as he'd probably hoped it'd be, "That's usually what happens, yes. You think one event in particular is influencing you now, to get to this point?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

The doctor was middle aged, maybe a little older, clean shaven with a noticeable, some sort of slavic, accent. His hair had begun to go grey, although his head seemed to still be full of it, as it was gelled back similar to how it'd be commonly styled in the 1930's, almost in matching fashion with how his late wife used to present herself. A particularly vintage looking couple, despite it being the 2000's now.

Speaking to another man about this kind of thing was definitely uncomfortable. Hosah wasn't sure whether he even wanted to continue on, as he didn't want to feel emasculated any more than just the event itself had made him feel ever since the day it happened. He'd already started now, and if he didn't elaborate in the moment, he'd just have to do it later.

".. Something happened to me when I was, what, maybe sixteen, but probably more like fifteen, I... It's always playing back in my head. When I close my eyes. When I hear a certain sound, smell something in particular, when the lights are that specific yellow shade, seeing a similar interior layout, I feel like I'm always back in that room." Hosah began, his hands now in tight, almost shaking fists as his eyes became blurry as they glossed over with a tear.

-~-

When the shifter stepped outside of the clinic, the particularly windy autumn day being as chilly as ever as he'd forgotten his big coat at the apartment, his eyes were instantly met with the familiar yellow vehicle, a man he could recognise in even the most crowded of rooms stood outside of it, waving him over to come get in alongside him.

Doing as he was told, Hosah half ran to the car, fighting the urge to just dive straight into Teddy's arms, shrinking down in an instant to just the size of about his thumb and a half, but instead, he settled for an extended pat on the shoulder from the significantly taller figure.

"How'd it go?" Teddy asked, opening the door for his roommate like the gentleman he was.

Hosah wished the vehicle was already moving at this point so he could show his disdain for the question through a simple yet effective tuck and roll,

"As good as anything like that can get, I guess," He didn't really want to talk about it.

Although Hosah's gaze had long shifted to the mundane view out of the window, Teddy's eyes stayed fixed at the smaller figure, unable to look away as he feared the shifter would disappear upon doing so. It was hard to not reach out and run his hands through the freshly cut and bleached hair as he did once before.

The clouds were a particularly dull grey, preparing for a melancholic down pour, quite fitting for the shifter's current situation. He couldn't stick to one thought, as his mind bounced from question to question, overthinking every little aspect of, what he assumed to be, his unremarkably normal behaviour.

Particularly, he thought of all the things he could've done differently. Maybe if he did one, tiny, meaningless thing differently, he wouldn't be this way. Things would be better. Or, on the other hand, there was the bleak idea that no matter what he did or what choices he made, he'd always have ended up this way, in this taxi, with Teddy.

It didn't take long before the two arrived back at Teddy's apartment. Or, their apartment now. The thought made him sick. It truly was theirs. All Hosah's stuff was here now, he was going to officially move out as soon as Jules got her shit together with the contract, and it was terrifying. Hosah had never been in a real relationship, not that this was anything more than two people making the best out of what they had in their current situation, and the commitment of actually, really sharing a space was truly nauseating.

Quite frankly, after the day Hosah had just had, he couldn't take it anymore. The sudden urge to retch sent him straight to the bathroom, no time to shut the door behind him, as, the lack of, his stomach contents came up and out into the toilet bowl.

Teddy followed closely behind, panic in his speedy steps and stuttering voice, "Woah- woah, what's wrong?"

"Just.." Hosah could barely get his words out as his insides kept bubbling back up his throat, "Just coming down with something."

If coming to terms with the everlasting effects of his trauma counted as a disease, Hosah was bedridden with it.

Instead of leaving him to it as a part of him wished Teddy did, the taller of the two stayed by his side, sitting on the cold tiled floor beside him, brushing the ash blond hair out of his face as he went back and fourth between retching and endlessly salivating. Gross. Teddy didn't deserve to see him like this, it was far too humiliating. At least his hoarse and hushed 'It's okay'-s were quite comforting.

"I... I need a bath." Was all Hosah could muster with the mix of saliva and stomach bile still lingering in the back of his throat.

Teddy didn't even pause for breath as he instantly turned toward the tub he was leaning against half a second earlier, preparing it for the shifter as soon as the words had left his mouth.

If he weren't in such a vulnerable state, both physically and emotionally, Hosah wouldn't have even dreamed of asking such a thing from his roommate, but alas, he was in that kind of situation where all he could do was reach his arms out and practically cry for someone's, anyone's, attention and affection.

"Can you help me wash my hair again?" The shifter asked, his words clear, without hesitation. It was this kind of direct request from his roommate that Teddy could not deny.

Hosah had come to learn to not be embarrassed when naked in front of others. He'd had countless support workers insist he needed help with washing himself all throughout his teenage years, and saying he was sexually inexperienced would've just been an outward lie. The shifter really wasn't insecure because he was out in the open, because he was physically in a very vulnerable situation that could easily turn sour if Teddy so wished it to, but more self conscious about the state his body was in, his ribs poking out around his chest all the way until his stomach con-caved, his hips sticking out as if they were out of place.

At his best, he looked like he'd never had a full meal in his life, and at his worst, he looked like he'd been addicted to meth since birth. Although both were fairly accurate, exaggerated but not entirely false, they weren't exactly desirable things to be compared to. Hosah wondered if his roommate were disgusted with him, if he felt just as nauseous as he did seeing the shifter throw his guts up when seeing him without a protective layer of clothing hiding his true form.

Deciding he'd add it to the long list of things to dwell on, Hosah got into the water without a second thought, enjoying the hot steam as it seeped into his pores, filling every gaping hole in his body with the warm, comforting feeling of the slow boiling of his own body. It was piping hot, just as he liked it. He wondered if Teddy had noticed that fact when bathing in the wooden bowl before.

The fact Teddy did all of this without question, without any hesitation, without judgement, was a comforting one. That's just the person he is, though. A caretaker. He'd see something he could nurse back to health and he'd jump at the opportunity to. A little dehumanising at times, but over all a good trait to have, especially when it applies to the shifter.

"Tell me a story," Hosah requested, his head leaning into the gentle massaging of the soap in his hair, Teddy's fingers moving in perfectly synchronised circular motions.

Teddy hadn't spoken much since they'd gotten back, which was a shame, since he had such an enjoyable voice and general way of speaking, "What kind of story?" he asked.

"About Italy. Tell me about Italy," The delicate kneading of Hosah's scalp was almost sending him straight to sleep.

"Well," Teddy started, "During the summer, when I wasn't at school, I'd stay on my grandparents farm. It was like three or four miles out from the nearest little town, so there would just be great long stretches of pastures to bike down, I'd take a book or two and me and my sister would go down to the river, once we'd finished all of our work, of course."

Hosah sighed dreamily, the steam fogging up every mirror and every window in the room, the only lighting being the little lamp that sat on top of the toilet and the overhead hallway light creeping in under the door frame,

"Sounds nice." The shifter added.

"It was nice," Teddy had paused moving his hand to recollect the memory, "I could probably find that river again with my eyes closed. We'd swim when the current was gentle, but usually we'd just sit and read by it in silence. A good sort of silence though. Just.. quietly enjoying each others company."

"Reminds me of my cabin. The one I told you about." Hosah turned his head to face his roommate as he began, "I'd be willing to compromise if Colorado isn't really your thing. Anywhere out of this city is good, as long as there's somewhere I can paint and fish."

"We'll see when it comes down to it," Teddy mumbled, his hand gently guiding the shifters head to tilt back as he rinsed the soap out of his hair, combing through the short length with his fingers as he did so.

They could both probably get used to this life. As long as everything going on outside of the apartment were to disappear, at least.

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #g/t writing #g/t author #Puparia_tag #I wasss gonna let you know Hosah’s deep dark secret life event butttttt #Idk i feel like the therapy he has shouldn’t be shared in full. Invasive. Just the parts I find relevant enough. Plus it’s too soon #He needs to admit it to Teddy and Also Us for us to know 🤤#Sorryyy maybe next time 😈

18 notes · View notes

samstree · 3 years

Text

Just a Little Pretense

Jaskier and Geralt stage a fake breakup. Someone’s feelings get hurt for real.

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

AO3

“… It would be to take you off my hands!”

Geralt’s voice echoes in the ballroom, between the tall walls and the high ceiling. Everyone on the dance floor has fallen into silence. Even the band has stopped playing, their lead singer gaping with round eyes.

Jaskier blinks, impressed.

All the eyes are on the two of them. Jaskier’s back prickles with the gazes. As the fight escalated, more and more guests have stopped dancing just to eavesdrop on the witcher and the bard, the most peculiar couple in the room.

Which is just perfect. The more people witnessing their breakup, the more awkward it will be afterward, and the easier it will be to get out of this tedious party. And here Jaskier is, regretting ever having doubted his dear witcher’s ability to perform.

Who would have thought Geralt is a method actor? Drawing inspiration from a past argument is ingenious.

His old acting professor back in Oxenfurt would approve of this. The show is going swimmingly and he is pumped with adrenaline—maybe he should go back on stage one day, do a play or two.

But alas, he can muse the idea later. The show must go on.

“Really? Just like that?” Jaskier croaks, seemingly on the verge of crying. He’s not so bad himself, classically trained and everything. “Thirty years, Geralt. I followed you for thirty years, and just like that, you will kick me out of your life? Did I ever—” he breaks off with a whimper. “Did I ever mean anything to you? Or were you ready to cast me aside this whole time?”

A tear rolls down. His lips wobble. The crowd erupts in hushed murmurs and sympathetic sighs. The set-up, the build, everything has been perfect. Now the only thing left is for Geralt to break things off, and the two of them can ride into the metaphorical sunset and never see this court again.

Jaskier waits in anticipation, but his witcher opens his mouth.

And closes it.

Geralt looks as upset as he should, angry and torn and equally shocked, his golden eyes wide and his jaw clenched tight. It’s a nice picture to paint for the audience. They are supposedly having the biggest fight in their lives and his body language is very convincing.

More than convincing.

Except, it just might be … too convincing.

Wait—

Jaskier focuses on Geralt, who looks as if he wants to shrink into himself, his shoulders slumped and arms drawn in. He looks as if he’s waiting to be struck. Wait, something’s not right.

“I can’t do this.” A whisper leaves Geralt’s lips, small and achingly sad.

It’s not the line he’s supposed to say.

Geralt’s eyebrows droop ever so slightly, and there’s a flash of distress behind the molten gold. It’s gone in a second, hidden behind a façade of indifference.

The tells are subtle, near imperceivable to the untrained eye, but to Jaskier, they are clear as day—Geralt is hurt. For real.

Oh.

Fuck.

“Geralt,” Jaskier tries, instantly snapped out of his character.

And yet, there’s no reply. Geralt lowers his head, turns around, and flees the scene within one heartbeat and the next. The crowd is too eager to make way for him.

“Shit,” Jaskier curses, ready to chase after Geralt, but the Countess de Stael appears out of nowhere with a flock of maids and positively blocks him in all directions. She’s eager to lament the loss of love and companionship, and to offer Jaskier a place at her court once again. Oh, shit.

Jaskier brushes her off, all the while painfully remembering he and Geralt’s goal from the beginning—to use the breakup as an excuse to get out of this place.

Well, the plan is shit. Is it too late to notice?

Weaving through dozens of nobles is a lot more difficult when they all want to extend sympathy, and Jaskier is only placating them absent-mindedly, faking regret and heartbreak. His mind is full of his witcher, who is either brooding or spiraling over the venom he spewed earlier.

The truth is, Jaskier has long forgotten about the mountain—not because it didn’t hurt. To be shunned by Geralt, blamed for everything, and denied friendship, was the worst thing to have happened to him at the time. It’s just that Jaskier has forgiven it, so long ago and so completely.

Jaskier cannot get to their room fast enough, and when he pushes open the door, the sight of Geralt’s dejected face is a stab through the chest. The witcher is perched on the bed, somehow looking a lot smaller than he is.

Jaskier never should have come up with the stupid fake breakup thing, never should have inadvertently reopened the old wound. They healed, together. They shouldn’t be hurting anymore.

“I explained. We can leave now,” Jaskier tires, but in fairness, he doesn’t remember what he said to the Countess. “Geralt?”

The witcher himself crosses his arms, hugging his midriff and avoiding Jaskier’s gaze. “Good,” he answers curtly, shoulders still tense.

He looks angry, and when Geralt is angry, it’s most likely with himself. Oh, whatever heartbreak Jaskier acted out earlier, it’s not a match to a fraction of what he’s feeling now. It must be the one millionth time Geralt’s self-loathing has broken Jaskier’s heart, and it never gets easier, not when Jaskier caused it himself.

“Hey.” Jaskier desperately wants to wrap his arms around Geralt. So he does. He sits down on the bed and pulls his witcher into the biggest bear hug, which is returned immediately and so very tightly. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I fucked up, Geralt. I’m—”

“Don’t be.” Geralt buries his nose into Jaskier’s neck and shakes his head. “I never should have said those things, Jask. I should be the one apologizing. It was wrong and untrue and I would never abandon you. You are my best friend. How can I ever? Please, believe me…”

Geralt trails off, his hands rubbing circles into Jaskier’s back. Although it’s unclear who he’s trying to soothe.

“I know. It’s okay. I know,” Jaskier murmurs, over and over again, sealing each reassurance with a kiss pressed into silver hair.

“I never meant it, Jask.”

“I know. It was fake. We were pretending.”

Geralt pulls away, golden eyes dead serious, pausing between every word. “I never meant it.”

Jaskier meets his gaze unwaveringly, with not an ounce of doubt. “I know.”

They stay there for a while, just holding each other. Geralt keeps sniffing Jaskier’s scent the same way he always does to check for injury or distress. He thinks he’s subtle, the sweet man, so Jaskier never mentions it.

Despite what an outsider might assume, Geralt is the sensitive one between the two. He’s so careful when it comes to their relationship, especially after the mountain and sometimes to his own detriment.

He’s so scared of hurting Jaskier again.

“I was an idiot for suggesting it,” Jaskier breaks the silence, nudging Geralt in the knee.

Geralt hums, lips pursed.

“Fake breakup is a terrible idea. Next time we’ll just grit our teeth and sit through the month-long party.”

Still, no smile.

“Alright, you win. Next time I won’t take you to a month-long party to start with.” Jaskier gently pats Geralt on the cheek. “For your delicate sensibilities, darling.”

Finally, finally, Geralt’s lips turn upwards, just a smidge.

“You are an idiot,” Geralt says, the crease between his brows fading. “Just…don’t make me make you cry again.”

Melting into the warmth welling up between his ribcage, Jaskier leans forward and presses a tiny kiss at his witcher’s forehead, so softly as if he’d break with any more force.

“Yes, dear.”

Being careless with Geralt’s heart is a mistake that Jaskier never wants to repeat. As he put a hand over his witcher’s languid heartbeat, Jaskier feels the soft thrumming against his palm, and realizes just how terribly he needs to guard it with the same care too. Against his frivolous self, and against the past that never seems to stop haunting them.

Because Jaskier needs this thing between them to work. If a faked breakup already seems unbearable, he shudders to imagine a real one.

A witcher’s life is already riddled with pain and sadness and could-have-beens. A poet would hate it if he added himself to the list.

---

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

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

#geraskier #geraskier fic #reverse trope #fake breakup #geralt x jaskier #post mountain #hurt/comfort #geralt of rivia is a sap #soft jaskier #jaskier is an idiot #don't mind him #established relationship

331 notes · View notes

parvulous-writings · 3 years

Text

Not so Wyld morning // Bill S Preston + Ted Logan x M!Reader

Request: can you write a fluff oneshot with bill (s preston) x ted logan x m! reader with like. a sleepy morning between the three?

Requested by: @mlmpunisher

Summary: Starts off as the request, and then goes off on a trip to the Circle K. I may or may not have gotten carried away.

Warnings: a brief joke about kidnapping/death.

Words: 3.5K

Notes: I’ve been waiting for an idea/request for these two. They’re my comfort idiots. My love for them... Let’s just say I watch the movies a fair amount, eh? My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif

You, Bill and Ted were spread rather haphazardly over Bill’s bed. Legs crossed over one another, hands on chests or in faces. You were all tangled together, not that any of you really cared about that at that moment. You had all fallen asleep during a study session- you had been desperately trying to tutor your boyfriends Bill and Ted, so that they didn’t fail their history class and completely flunk out of school- mostly because Ted’s father, Captain Logan, was threatening to send the taller boy away to an Alaskan military school to whip him into shape should he fail the semester. That was now an all too real threat to the three of you, none of you wanted to get pulled apart from one another. You had been trying to quiz them on the philosophies of the great Athenian thinker Socrates (whom both young men insisted on pronouncing So-Crates no matter how many times you corrected them) when you passed out one by one. First Ted- who was up against the headboard, and whose head had slumped forward when you had gotten onto the fifth or sixth question. Then Bill, draped over Ted’s legs, after leaning back to protest about how the quiz was starting to become “A total drag,” around the tenth question. He had promptly passed out whilst you were telling him it was for their own good- you weren’t all that surprised when you were interrupted by a rather loud snore coming from the curly-haired Bill.You hadn’t bothered to try and wake either of them- not only would they both be rather irritable if you woke them up too early, but it was nearly one o’clock in the morning at that point, so you figured that perhaps they were both subconsciously onto something. You had taken the range and array of textbooks off of the bed, creating a little more space for you to somehow work yourself between them and get more comfortable to get some sleep of your own. After some shuffling, and a few murmurs from both Bill and Ted, you had found the perfect position, where you had promptly fallen asleep with them.

You were the first to wake up. Ted had taken your arm in both of his in your sleep, cuddling it as if it were a teddy bear. Bill’s legs had somehow tangled with yours, and he had ended up nuzzled into the side of your chest, not that you minded all that much. Though Ted was the more affectionate of your boyfriends in public, Bill could be just as affectionate as him in private. You tried not to move at first, not wanting to disturb them- they could both be as bad as each other when it came to being woken up too early (too early was counted as anything before they woke up by themselves). So, for what you had gauged to be about twenty minutes or so, you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. There were no thoughts of any importance that drifted through your mind at this point, not until you had finally grown restless enough to carefully push yourself up onto one elbow to check the time on Bill’s alarm clock- which he rarely actually used as anything more than just a normal clock. It had just gone half past ten, and you felt your eyes go wide- that was much later than you had anticipated. Thankfully it was a weekend, though briefly your brain had tricked itself into thinking it was mid-week, causing even more of a jolt in your chest. You would have to get up soon to make your way back home; it was bad enough that you had spent the night out without letting your parents know that you’d be out past eleven o’clock. Every moment past nine in the morning that you spent away from them, the angrier they would get with you. With this thought in mind you tried to push yourself up a little bit more, fully prepared to undertake the rather massive task of trying to begrudgingly untangle yourself from the two men you held dear, but you were quickly brought back down again by an unseen hand. Your head landed on Ted’s stomach, and you glanced over to him, seeing him peering back at you through tired eyes and a rather messy head of hair. He gave you a rather dopey smile, and you realised he was the one to pull you back; mostly prompted by the fact that Bill was giving another round of freight-train like snores. Ted’s head fell back again when you didn’t struggle against his protests of getting out of bed, and he gave a yawn before beginning to speak. “Morning, chief.” He mumbled, voice still raspy with the last dregs of sleep his body was trying to cling onto. “I don’t get why you call me that.” You replied in a whisper, trying not to wake Bill. “Surely I should be the one calling you that- given your dad’s job and everything...” “Eh,” Was Ted’s simple reply, accompanied with a rather lazy shrug. It was about a minute before the only other boy awake in the room started to speak again. “I mean, it does kind of suit you, doesn’t it? You keep me and Bill in order...” He prompted, glancing over to you with that same goofy smile, before his gaze moved back to the ceiling. “For the most part, I guess.” You smiled back at him, taking his hand and draping his arm across you, so you could play absently with his fingers. Ted never minded that.

The pair of you fell into a comfortable silence, which was disturbed only briefly, and rather inconsistently, by Bill’s snores. You weren’t sure how long you laid there for this time, but the rather delightful monotonous repetition was ultimately interrupted by a quiet groan of protest from the blonde haired boy at the end of the bed. He rolled onto his front, trying to cover his eyes- he had fallen asleep rather inconveniently where the light peaked through the blinds in the early morning. “Someone close the blinds,” He complained, trying to turn away from them but ultimately failing. “Bill...” You chuckled lightly, nudging him to get his attention. “They are closed. The light is coming through the gap.” Your words were only met with a groan from Bill, and a stifled laugh from Ted. “You should get it fixed, dude.” The taller boy jested, nudging the boy again, and Bill responded with a half-hearted swipe at Ted’s foot. “Shut up, Ted.” Of course, he didn’t mean this in an inherently horrid way, despite his gruff tone. He loved both you and Ted deeply, more than he could love anything else- or at least that was what he thought. Ted thought very much the same thing- though that was no surprise. More often than not, it was like the two shared the exact same brain. If they were not thinking of the exact same plan down to the detail when it came to schemes, they were at the very least agreed on the end result. Most of the time this wasn’t too much of a problem for you- usually you were at the butt end of whatever shenanigan they were plotting- but there were times when you did get a little bit overwhelmed by the pair of them. More often than not, the times where you got overwhelmed involved a very particular phone-booth, with some rather unique properties. Unless you were in it’s presence you tried not to think about it- the amount of times you had been put through mind-bending situations already made your head spin to even consider again. They’d predict something, it would happen immediately after said prediction, then they would turn to one another and proclaim a quick “Excellent!” before reminding one another that they would need to remember that later. You were still a little bit confused by it- especially when they sprung something random on you-but you thought you were slowly starting to understand, even though the concept of time travel didn’t seem quite real.

You broke your train of thought upon feeling a sudden weight on your chest. Though you wanted to crane your neck to see who it was, you didn’t really need to, you knew it was Bill. You did it anyway- your eyes being met with the golden curls of Bill’s hair. “Bill, love, I’m going to have to get up soon.” You warned him, as your movement would definitely affect him more than Ted. “No.” He replied simply. From his tone, you could tell he didn’t overly want to debate it. “But I stayed over without letting my parents-” “You’re fine, you’re safe, what do they have to complain about?” He grumbled, shuffling so that his chin was on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your middle. His deep green eyes met yours, before flitting briefly to Ted, giving you both a smile. “C’mon, dude. It won’t hurt to have a little longer with us, right?” He asked, and you moved your hand to quickly brush a stray curl from his brow. “Maybe he should go soon- like, just to check in.” Ted piped up, ever in your corner. “Cause you know what happens if he gets in trouble. He won’t get to see us for like... A week. That is most heinous, and you know it.” At this rather right line of reasoning, Bill groaned, burying his face into the fabric of your shirt. “Shut up, Ted.” This was quite muffled, and of course still not completely serious. You laughed softly, “Okay- what about this? One hour. Like this.Then, we can ask Missy to drive us back to my place, and I can let my parents know I’m fine, and you two haven’t like... Murdered me, or something.” You joked, and you can feel Ted nod enthusiastically underneath you. “Yeah, that’s a good idea!” He agreed, and you could hear the smile that was in no doubt plastered onto his face. “Then we can all head down to the Circle K afterwards, right?” “Sure we can, Ted.” You agreed, reaching up behind you to clumsily pat his cheek. “Only if he isn’t in trouble, remember?” Bill pitched in, shuffling to get comfortable again. “What about half an hour? If we want to head to Circle K, obviously.” You all consider this new plan for a moment, before each of you gave a curt nod, in unison.

So there you all stayed- you nearly even fell asleep again before you felt Bill roll off of you. He then took your arm and helped you up, and Ted quickly rolled off of the bed to grab his sneakers. Bill chucked yours at you, before going to get his shoes as well. Ted was the first downstairs- “Hey, Missy?” He called out, and he was quickly met with the young woman’s reply. “Yeah? What’s up, Ted?” She asked, giving a warm smile. “We were hoping that you could drive us to (Y/N)’s house?” He asked, briefly wringing his hands, as he eagerly awaited her response. “Sure thing!” She nodded cheerily, “Let me just finish making these drinks, and I’ll be right with you. You guys go out to the car.” She nodded over to the door leading to the garage. As you and Bill started down the stairs, Ted eagerly gestured for you both to follow him. It didn’t take Missy very long to finish making the drinks she was preparing, and you all piled into the car. “So- did you all sleep well?” The blonde woman asked, glancing back at you and Bill in the back of the car- Ted had a fascination with sitting in the front seat. Ted and Bill nodded individually; you were the one to verbally reply. “Yeah, I think we all got a fairly good night sleep.” You give an almost awkward smile. Though, at one point, both of your boyfriends had had some form of crush on her- despite her being quite a few years older than all of you- you hadn’t entirely understood why. You never really mentioned it though. “Good to hear,” She replied, still wearing that joyful smile. “Hey, Bill- you might need to use the spare key today, the one behind the plant, if you’re staying out late with the boys.” She took a turning as she spoke, keeping her eyes on the road. “Me and your dad are going out for dinner tonight.” “Okay, Missy- I mean, mom.” Bill replied, quickly correcting himself on his mistake. “Just stop on the corner here,” He told her, gesturing to the side of the road a five minute walk from your house. “Are you sure?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke. “I can take you all the way, if you-” “No, it’s alright, thanks, Missy.” You interrupt quickly, leaning forward. “Here is fine.” She shrugged, but begrudgingly pulled over.

“Thanks, Missy!” Ted called after the now fleeting car, giving a wave as well, before jogging to catch up with you and Bill, who had already started to cross the road to get to your street. “I’ll quickly grab some money whilst we’re there,” You told the pair of them, and they nodded. “I was thinking we could get some slushies.” Ted suggested, giving a wide smile. “Blue and red?” Bill added, giving a smile of his own, and Ted nodded energetically. “Our tongues’ll end up as purple, you two know that, right?” You teased with a grin, glancing over your shoulder as Bill laughed heartily. It took Ted a moment longer to get the joke, but he started laughing even harder than Bill when it clicked with him. “Oh well,” Bill shrugged, a rather mischievous smile. You fell into silence again as you jogged up your driveway, almost wrenching open the door and calling out a hasty “Hey!” to announce your presence to the household and those within it. You quickly made your way to your room, as Bill and Ted quietly entered your home after you, choosing to stay in the hallway- even though they had visited and stayed over at your house many times before. They were both silently hoping that they were making their will to leave relatively soon clear. Your father came into the living room, glancing to the two boys standing awkwardly in the hallway. “Bill, Ted.” He greeted, calmly. Bill mouthed a silent ‘Hi’, whilst Ted just waved. Neither of them wanted to anger your parents- Ted, because he knew how authority figures could be, he’d had experience with his own father, and Bill just didn’t want you to be punished and kept away from them. You came back through as quickly as you could, palming some of your loose change in your hand, making sure you would have enough for a slushie for yourself, and for your boyfriends if they hadn’t brought any money with them- which was more than likely. “Going out again?” Your father asked you, wanting to make some sort of conversation. You nodded, glancing to him and giving a smile. “Yeah, heading out to Circle K with Bill and Ted.” You told him. He was a lot more relaxed with the rules than your mother- whom you currently assumed to be out for lunch with one of her friends. “Did your study session go well, then?” “Yeah- we went over Socrates again. We all passed out- that’s why I didn’t come home or call last night.” Your father laughed gently, he understood. “I figured as much. Your mother was saying that you could have been kidnapped- but I kept saying you’re a smart kid, you’d know what to do if that were a risk. Plus, I don’t think there’s anyone in San Dimas who would want to kidnap you.” “Even if they did want to steal him away, we’d take whoever it is on,” Bill stated, confidently- nudging Ted. “Yeah, we would!” The taller boy confirmed with a nod. You giggled and shook your head at the pair. Even your father chuckled gently at them. “Good to know my son is in safe hands.” Though your father was aware that these two weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed of San Dimas, he wasn’t about to take away some of your only company. Your mother had brought it up to him before, but he usually elected to ignore the comments. “Anyway- get going, before your mother gets back. If she sees you going off with these to again without checking in properly she’ll have a fit.” He gestured to the door, “Just be back by eleven tonight, alright?” “We’ll have him back by then!” Ted told him, opening the door and striding out, followed closely by Bill, and then you. Your father gave a wave, before heading back into your family home.

There were few words on the journey to the local orange ringed store, you only started to speak again when you had each purchased your chosen flavour of slushie. Bill with strawberry, Ted with blue raspberry, and you with another blue raspberry. You all took a seat on the curb, and you decided to fill the silence with one of the first thoughts that came to your head mid-sip. “So, are you two ready for the end-of-semester presentation Mr Ryan is going to assign?” You asked, and both of your boyfriends looked rather shocked. “What? He’s done it with every other year-group, and we’re not exactly different, specification wise....” You pointed out, and Ted groaned. “I suck at presentations.” He complained, “Plus neither of us can remember anything that Mr Ryan has taught us!” He exclaimed, gesturing rather wildly with his slushie. “I mean, even with your help, dude, I don’t think we’re going to do all that well.” You were about to speak, but Bill was the one to step in first. “We gotta try, man,” He placed an affectionate hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “If we don’t, it’s even more likely that you’re going to be sent off to that heinous school in Alaska.” Ted considered this, then nodded. Bill was right. “I’ll do everything I can to help my boys remember all they can,” You told them, a fond smile on your face which they quickly returned. They loved being referred to as your boys, they couldn’t even deny it- you could see it in their eyes. Bill leant over and pressed a very brief kiss to your cheek- though not before checking the parking lot was clear, empty of onlookers- and Ted reached across Bill’s legs to grab your hand, squeezing your palm to show some affection; you were too far away for a kiss from him, and he didn’t overly want to get up whilst his slushie was still rather full. He took a sip from the plastic straw in his beverage, before clearing his throat. “So..” He began, starting to grin wider than usual. “Who wants to make purple?” He nudged Bill, who then quickly looked to you, wearing the same grin as your other boyfriend. You started to laugh- of course this had been something that neither of them had forgotten.

Without another word exchanged between you, you leant to close the gap between you and Bill, letting lips and tongue tangle in a passionate display of affection. Ted stared on adoringly, not overly minding that Bill was the first to get your attention and affection- though now he had finished off the majority of his drink he scuttled round to your other side, carefully taking your jaw in his hand when you eventually pulled away from Bill to catch your breath. Your break didn’t last for too long, since Ted pulled you gently so your already kiss swollen lips met his equally soft ones. Bill couldn’t help the warm and love-filled smile that spread over his face, before he just had to press a kiss to your cheek, and then reach over to Ted’s cheek to make sure he wasn’t left out. You all separated after a minute or so, and you wiped your lip carefully, wearing the same wide and almost goofy smile as the other two. Your lips, and tongue, as predicted, had turned a rather strange shade of purple. “I think we should get another snack,” Ted suggested, “Cause I’m hungry, and then we can get the colour off of our tongues,” He grinned, and Bill considered the preposition. “I guess some food wouldn’t hurt...” He agreed, “Marshmallows?” He suggested, which was replied to with a nod from both you and Ted. “I’ll get them then,” Bill smiled at you both, searching his pocket for some spare change as he got to his feet; marshmallows were a fair bit cheaper than slushies, and he could afford them with what he had to hand. Whilst he went back into the Circle K, you shuffled closer to Ted, smiling lightly as he drew you closer with an arm around your shoulder. That morning had certainly been most excellent, as most of the time with your boyfriends always was- it was something that you always looked forward to; spending time with them, making memories that would forever make you smile.

#bill and ted #bill and ted's excellent adventure #bill and ted's bogus journey #bill s preston esquire #bill s preston #ted logan #ted theodore logan #alex winter #young keanu #80s/90s keanu #keanu reeves #ted logan x reader #bill preston #bill s preston x reader #bill and ted x reader

205 notes · View notes

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 years

Note

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

242 notes · View notes

toointofiction · 3 years

Text

How The Queen of Elfhame Learned to Deal with Insufferable Idiots

Hey, cuties!! I have been thinking of writing this little one-shot for a while now and I finally did. Check it out on the link below or keep reading and let me know what you think.

Pairing: Jurdan; Cardan x Jude

Genre: Romance

Rating: Explicit/Mature

Summary: Jude is pissed off and with no other way to let off steam, Cardan comes up with a creative and very effective idea.

Jude is pissed. She’s about two seconds away from running someone through with her sword. Or maybe severing their head from their shoulders. Or arranging a public mass execution. Anything sounds good at the moment. How is it that the entirety of her Living Council consists of idiots recklessly testing her patience? She can practically feel her sword-hand itching and twitching in anticipation. Is it too much to ask for a little competence? Sometimes it’s as if their sole purpose is to enrage her to the point where the only coherent thoughts she has, are homicidal ones.

Fuming, Jude stalks back to her bedchambers, Cardan effortlessly matching her pace. He has an amused look on his handsome face, stealing glances at her every now and then. As if none of what just happened had any sort of effect on him. He should not be having this much fun at her expense. Especially, right now. He is putting his life in danger. Her King seems to think that just because she loves him, he is somehow safe from her wrath. Which may or may not be true, Jude thinks.

She cannot count the times Cardan angered her. More often than those idiots. She seems to recall the time he thought to confront a vicious troll all on his own, with no proper training, protection, or backup. In the middle of the night. She also remembers finding him on the ground, bleeding, and dizzy from iron poisoning. She had been absolutely furious then. She told herself that as soon as he healed, he would get an earful. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to yell at him. She scolded him, of course. What he did was completely idiotic, but her anger faded quickly. All she felt was relief that he was okay. That the injuries he sustained weren’t serious or life-threatening. Still, it needed about a whole week for the iron to leave his system. The same cannot be said for her Living Council, however. She still wants to kill them, and she doubts her anger will fade any time soon.

Normally, when Jude is this angry, she takes it out on training with the Court of Shadows. To her misfortune, however, she sent them all on a mission two days ago. Just my luck. Jude signs audibly and raises her hand to her temple which feels just about ready to crack open from unrelenting pressure. She must start making some serious personnel changes, otherwise, they’ll soon have to rename it the Dead Council. She also needs to find a way to let go of her anger somehow, before she does something drastic and irreversible. Her King isn’t too keen on the way she likes to solve problems. Even if that way is more than called for sometimes. It’s at that moment that she feels Cardan’s slender arm wrap around her waist, and his lips graze the top of her head.

“Come on, I can help you relax.”

“Nothing can help me relax, now.”

“Don’t start making assumptions just yet,” he responds. His eyes shine in amusement, a small, mischievous smile grazes his lips.

With one arm still around her waist, he uses the other to open the door to their bedchamber and guide her through. As she walks ahead of him and slumps on the bed, she hears him whisper to the guards outside not to allow anyone to disturb them. What is he up to? Jude didn’t have to wonder for long. Cardan appears in front of her, that mischievous smile still on his lips, places his hands on her shoulders, and pushes her back on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’ll help you relax.”

With that, he leans down and gives her a deep, long kiss. Just way he knows she likes it. She feels his hands on her knees, dragging the material of her dress up. Higher and higher until he has to stop and pull the whole thing off her. As soon as the dress is off, he is back to kissing her lips, her neck, right between her breasts. She can feel his hand moving from her ribs to her breast, squeezing lightly, playing with her nipple. The other, he guides right between her legs, squeezing her once before he gently, torturously stroking her, making her legs twitch. Jude lets out an involuntary moan. She can feel him grinning against her skin. Smug bastard. Before she can even muster a word, he pushed a finger inside of her, making her thoughts scatter away from her, another moan, a very loud one, escapes her lips.

“Okay, fine,” she breaths out. “This is relaxing.”

“I told you.”

His mouth moves to one breast as he pushes another finger inside her. She arches her back, squeezing his hand between her thighs. She tangles her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling his groan deep into her core. She’s not going to last long. He seems to realise this. His hand moves frantically between her thighs, his thumb pressing on her clit. He abandons her breast and gives her another deep kiss as she falls over the edge. Her climax hits her hard. Cardan keeps on kissing her, swallowing her scream. He enjoys making her lose all control. She knows this and it should probably annoy her a little bit. But how could it, when losing control feels so damn good.

She tries to catch her breath after the last of her orgasm fades away. Cardan doesn’t let her, though. He never does. He guides his lips between her breasts again, over her belly, until she feels him between her thighs, still sensitive from the last orgasm. He gives her a gentle kiss that sends shocks through her body, before he starts to feast on her, aggressive and wild. Jude feels another climax coming. Her muscles tense, her eyes locked on her husband, her King as he drives her over the edge again. She wraps her legs around Cardan’s head like an unbreakable collar, pushes both hands into his hair, gripping him in place. If he stops right now, she’s going to be angry again. A few short moments pass, and she falls over the edge again. She moans loudly, knows that the guards outside can definitely hear her, but she doesn’t care. Not when Cardan’s mouth is still on her, helping her ride out her orgasm.

A few moments pass by, as Jude tries to catch her breath. Cardan lets her this time. He rises up the length of her body, that smug expression still on his face. He kisses her once more and she tastes herself in his mouth. He lays next to her, wraps an arm around her limp body, and pulls her to him.

“I guess I don’t have to train my anger away, anymore.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cardan says, dropping a kiss at the top of her head.

A thought pops up inside Jude’s head, and she can feel her mouth stretching into a wicked smile. She turns to face Cardan, “I should probably reciprocate now, right?”

Cardan grins like a Cheshire cat and with a slap on her ass he responds, “I guess you should.”

59 notes · View notes

eternalsimp · 3 years

Text

Cursed Fears (pt 2)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Word Count: 3703

Warnings: NSFW 18+, Aged up Megumi, mentions of violence, character death, swearing, use of female pronouns and anatomy, angst, slight praise kink, oral sex (f. receiving) Minors DNI.

Author Note: This is a sequel but it can be read as a stand-alone. pt 1 is up on my blog and pt 3 will be posted soon.

Megumi’s POV

Everything was dark and the smell of blood was overwhelming. I couldn’t tell where I was exactly, I knew I was in the domain of a special grade but I was sure I had gone home to y/n. Nobara, Yuji, and I had exorcised a second-grade curse and had called it a night. So where did this domain come from? How did I get here? I could swear I could hear thunder crack every now and then, but I can’t even remember if there was a storm when I was here with Yuji and Nobara. Where was Gojo when I needed him? I stumbled through the darkness blindly before I was met with a sight that made my heart drop.

Sukuna sat lazily on his throne, his red eyes trained on me in a predatory glare, sharp nails tapping impatiently on his temple. “It's about time you showed up, I thought I was going to have my fun without you. Now that you’re here, we can continue.” Sukuna’s mouth pulled into a sinister grin as I stared at the limp figure at the foot of his throne.

“Y/n…” her name came out as barely a whisper, my throat felt like it was closing up. She was at home studying for her statistics class, I know she was. I shook my head violently before pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. This isn’t real.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer? Not feeling so tough anymore are you? You were so confident you could take me on earlier, so come on, take her back. Until you do I may have to play with her a little bit more, show her that she was never safe from me.” Sukuna reached down and pulled her unconscious body up into his lap. He held her jaw with one hand and turned her face so I could see. I wanted to scream at him not to touch her, or to hurt me instead, but nothing came out. Every part of my body was frozen in place at the sight of her tortured body. Sukuna could see me struggling in his domain and smirked down at me. He slowly dragged his mouth up her throat and to the shell of her ear. “Time to wake up princess, our guest is here.” Sukuna squeezed her throat at the same time he nipped her ear and her eyes flew open to immediately fall on me.

“No, please let her go.” The words finally came but I still couldn’t move. She looked so scared, the person I love most is in danger and I couldn’t do anything about it. I forced myself forward a single step but it felt like I was sinking into the ground. Why can’t I move? “I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t hurt her.”

“I told you what I wanted, I told you to come and get her. Show me just how strong you are.” Sukuna taunted. With a firm grip on my girlfriend's jaw and his other hand traveling down her body, Sukuna was in complete control. I know I can’t use cursed energy or shikigami here or I would risk her becoming collateral damage, but I couldn’t stand still and do nothing.

“‘Gumi, help me.” Her voice was shaking, her entire body trembling. I wanted nothing more than to whisk her away to safety. Her eyes squeezed shut as Sukunas mouth attacked her neck and left dark bruises in its wake.

“Time’s running out kid, I’m starting to get bored.” Sukuna’s free hand began to snake over her legs, dragging his razor-sharp nails over the soft skin there, leaving angry red scratches behind. Tears began to fall freely from her eyes and I tried to force myself forward again to no avail. Whimpers and cries for help begin to fall from her lips faster, and god I feel like I’m in hell. All I can do is watch as she cries out in fear, heart cracking at every sound she makes. Finally, she says something that makes me feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest

“You did this to me, this is your fault.” My body felt numb at the sound of her broken words. All I can do is shake my head and beg, beg Sukuna for mercy, and beg her for forgiveness.

“Baby it’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“You said you would protect me, why did you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna get you out of here. Please believe me, my love.” I was on my knees before the king of curses now. So close I could pick up on her perfume that smells sickly sweet of roses, but the smell I adore so much was tainted with something else now.

Sukuna clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You know better than to make promises you can’t keep, right?” My whole body was shaking with fear and rage at the curse, but all I could do was bargain.

“Please, I swear I will do anything, just let her go.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, pleading to just see her leave here alive. Sukuna’s nails dug deeper into her throat, drawing blood as it trickled down her neck and chest in small streams.

“I think I’d rather punish you and the brat for trapping me in this vessel. You get to watch as I kill her, and then I’ll switch out with him so he can see what he’s done.” Sukuna leaned down to face me. “This is what happens when self-righteous sorcerers need to learn their place, so don’t blame me for what happens next.”

Fear shot through my entire body at those words. I couldn’t help but scream loudly as Sukuna jerked her head and a loud, sickening crack filled my ears.

I shot straight up in bed as a crack of thunder rumbled through the apartment. My eyes were unfocused as I dragged myself towards the bathroom and a wave of nausea washed over me. I barely made it to the toilet before I was vomiting into it. My knees burned from where they hit the tile but all I can think about was the sound of her whimpers and begs for help ringing in my ears. I was vaguely aware of the shirt sticking to me with sweat as I tried to control my erratic breathing. Thunder cracked again, sounding eerily like the way her neck snapped in my nightmare and I was retching again.

The cycle continued for what felt like hours until I was left coughing and dry heaving. As the panic started to ebb away I noticed the presence of my girlfriend on the floor behind me, running her hands soothingly over my back, and lightly pressing her thumbs into my spine. She had her knees on either side of my waist and was resting her head between my shoulder blades. I reached up to flush the toilet before gently squeezing her knee to let her know I was okay. She wordlessly pulled my sweaty shirt over my head to let the cool air hit my back before lifting herself off of the floor and out of the bathroom.

I shifted my body so I could press my forehead against the hard plastic of the bathtub. After a couple minutes, she handed me a bottle of water and pressed a cold, damp cloth to the back of my neck. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” voice raspy from coughing and throwing up. This wasn’t the first time I had woken her with my nightmares, and I doubt it would be the last. She reclaims her spot on the floor behind me and continues rubbing my back.

“Don’t be sorry, I prefer to be woken up by you going to the bathroom than you throwing up in the bed anyway.” I can’t help but laugh at her teasing and we could both feel the unease begin to fade.

“Yeah, that's a good point. You’re too good to me, you know that?” I moved so that I was leaning back against her chest and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders protectively.

“Nope, I refuse to accept that statement because we are the perfect amount of goodness to each other.” I tilted my head back to rest it on her shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to her neck. I couldn’t help but wonder how I was lucky enough for Nobara to introduce the two of us. It was in the small, intimate moments like these that I knew I would happily go to my grave protecting her.

Reader’s POV

“Okay you know the drill,” you said to him as you held out your hands expectantly. He smiled as he placed both his hands in yours, palm up. You pressed one of his hands to your chest and the other to his so he could feel both of your heartbeats under his fingertips. The first time you did this he scoffed at how cheesy it was, but over the two years of living together, it became common practice for when he was trying to calm down after a nightmare. You didn’t like to press him about the horrors that plagued his dreams, knowing how reserved he was with his emotions, so you found your own ways to comfort him.

“See, we’re both okay. Do you wanna get up to go lay back down or do you need a second?” He shook his head and pulled himself up to sit in front of you again.

“No, I’m okay, but can we do the other thing too?” he asked sheepishly. He turned pleading eyes towards you, and how could you refuse him when he asked so nicely.

“Of course, whatever you need. You or me?”

He took a shuddering breath before whispering “you” so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Your shoulders slumped as that one word told you everything you needed to know. The other practice that became a common occurrence after his chronic nightmares was kissing the other person's phantom injuries. More often than not it was him kissing you, as you were usually the object of his nightmares, like tonight. He liked being able to physically see and feel that the wounds inflicted on you were in fact not real. This nighttime routine often led to some heavy makeout sessions, which then led to very soft and intimate sex.

“Okay baby,” You stand up and move to sit on the side of the bed while he brushes his teeth quickly to get rid of the gross taste in his mouth. While you wait, you find yourself tugging at the bottom of your shorts self-consciously as you shiver in anticipation. After a moment your boyfriend waltzed out of the bathroom and rested his hands on either side of your waist. He bent his head to capture your lips in a slow kiss. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss and you happily oblige him. Your mouths move in a small fight for dominance but a firm hand on your thigh has him easily winning. Your hands trailed up to rest on his shoulders as he took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently.

You gasp softly into his mouth and he brings one hand up to rest at the nape of your neck as he cradles your head protectively. He draws his lips down the side of your jaw, paying special attention to the spot behind your ear that never fails to have you melting into his hands. You tilt your head to give him better access to your throat, allowing him to deliver individual kisses to the spots where you likely had been hurt.

In a swift, fluid motion, he is pulling your tank top off of you and trailing sloppy kisses down your chest and stomach. You lean back onto your elbows as he runs his hands over your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You let out a shaky breath as he begins to kiss his way up the inside of your legs. “Just relax baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” He punctuated each word with a kiss or nip to the inside of your thighs, and you could feel the arousal pool at the pit of your stomach.

You forced yourself to make eye contact just in time to see a devious smirk grace his features. Before you could question it he is yanking down your shorts and blowing cool air onto your core. You yelp and instinctively try to snap your knees shut. He chuckles lowly to himself before tossing your shorts somewhere behind him. He brings his face back between your thighs to lick a long, hot stripe up your core. You gasp loudly and let your arms give out behind you. He reaches one hand up to where you are clawing at the sheets to intertwine your fingers together.

“My pretty baby is already so worked up and I’ve barely touched you. What a good girl.” He lowers himself back down to lap up the arousal dripping onto your legs before sucking your clit into his mouth. You arch into him and groan loudly which prompts him to hum triumphantly around the bundle of nerves. He moves his free hand down to expertly curl two fingers into you and starts pumping in and out at a steady pace. After a few pumps of his hand, he curls his fingers to find the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

The combination of his mouth and fingers working you is dizzying and you can feel it pushing you closer to the edge of your climax. He could feel how close you were and began to move with more purpose, determined to make you cum more than once in the night. With the hand that isn’t intertwined with his, you reach down to tangle in his soft hair. “Wait, I- oh shit- I’m gonna cum.”

He removes the hand that was holding yours from you and brings his thumb down to rub circles into your sensitive clit. “Come on baby, I got you. You can cum for me.” He moves his mouth to rejoin his fingers at your slit to bring you closer to your high. A particularly hard press of his thumb has you crying out in pleasure and grinding desperately against his face. He removes his fingers from you and replaces them with his tongue to help you ride out your high. He greedily drinks up your release until you are weakly nudging him away.

“Do you want me to stop?” He looked up at you innocently, which was contradicting when you remembered the things he was doing mere seconds prior.

“No, I just want to feel more of you.” You could feel a hot blush creep up your body at the realization that he was still halfway clothed, while you laid completely naked in front of him. His brain seemed to process this at the same time because he was quickly ridding himself of his sweatpants and grey boxers.

His hard cock thumps softly against his toned stomach when he stood again and you were having a hard time not staring at the man in front of you. He wasn’t bulky, but the muscles that rippled underneath taut skin were nothing to sneeze at. He glanced up and caught your stare, and returned it with a cocky smirk. “See something you like?”

“I sure do,” you flashed an innocent smile as you sat up and palmed his erection. He gasped at your sudden boldness and leaned onto the bed for support. At this proximity, you were able to tug his earlobe between your teeth and bite down gently. “Please baby, I want you so bad.” Those words snap him back into action and he’s crashing his lips against yours again.

He moves you back up the bed and crawls over your body. He braces his forearms on either side of your head and experimentally grinds his hip against yours. You let out a soft “please” that comes out whinier than you intend. You lean your face up to give him a soft kiss before he reaches down to line himself up with you and slowly presses the tip inside. He shallowly thrusts to slowly work into you, mumbling praises against your skin as he moves deeper.

You can’t help but wince at the stretch his cock always brings you, which would border on outright painful if he didn’t feel so good. Your head falls back against the bed, clawing at his back to try to find something to ground yourself. He glances down to where he is buried deep inside you before pressing his forehead to yours. “I know sweetheart, it's almost there. You’re- fuck- doing so good for me,” he reassures as he presses a soothing kiss to your temple.

When he finally bottoms out he stills his hips to let you get comfortable and adjust to him. He takes this opportunity to pepper your face and chest in kisses and returns one of his hands to your neck where it cradles your head. You bring one of your hands to his hair to tug gently before rolling your hips against him, eliciting a breathy moan from him. “You can move baby, I’m okay.”

He nods and gives a couple of slower thrusts before setting a steady pace. He opted for slower deep strokes which made you feel every inch of him as he thrust into you. His thrusts have his cock brushing all the right spots inside you, and all you can do is gasp and moan for him while clinging to his shoulders. “Megumi, please,” you aren’t even sure what you were asking for. The pleasure has your head spinning and unable to make complete thoughts.

You can tell he is getting closer to his own climax because his thrusts are getting progressively faster and he is getting more vocal. “God, baby you’re taking me so well.” He hooks one of your legs around his waist and the new angle lets him hit your sweet spot with every roll of his hips. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel another climax approaching, and Megumi picks up his pace again.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me again?” You bury your face into his shoulder and nod. He moves one of his hands to play with your clit to push you over the edge. You arch into him and let out a strangled moan as your orgasm washes over you. You’re sure you’re leaving deep scratches across his back as you grip him tighter. His hips stutter as you clench around him and he gives a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s cumming too with a loud groan. He unconsciously rocks into you lazily as you both come down from your highs.

“Are you okay baby?” He kisses your forehead and strokes your side to try and bring you back to reality. You nod again, not quite trusting your voice yet. He chuckles and slowly pulls out to not overstimulate you. You squirm at the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs but he’s already moving to the bathroom to grab stuff to clean you up.

When he comes back out he runs a warm cloth along the inside of your thighs and quickly over your center, which has you wincing at the sensitivity. When he's done he pulls out a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his loose shirts for you to wear. He helps you slip the clothes on and tugs his boxers back up before climbing back into bed with you.

You stand up to crack open the window next to the bed before laying with your back against his chest. The cool air from the rain seeps into the room and he mutters a “thank you” into your shoulder, surprised that you remember he runs hot for the rest of the night when he has a nightmare.

The clock on the bedside table shows that it's about 5:30 in the morning, so you estimate that he woke up roughly at 4. “Do you feel okay enough to go back to sleep?” You feel him shrug behind you and you scoot closer to him, pulling one of his arms over your waist to lace your fingers together.

“I don’t know. I should but…” you hear his voice trail off and nod in understanding. He always has a hard time falling back asleep on nights like these. He warned you about his chronic nightmares shortly before moving in together and confessed that he’s had them since he started high school at Jujustu Tech. However, you take small comfort in the knowledge that since living together they’ve gotten less frequent, and his reactions to them have become far less violent.

“Will you feel better if one of your shikigami sleeps in here? Just so you know that nothing will happen.” He considers it for a minute before tugging his hand out of yours, circling his other arm around your waist, and folding his hands to summon his divine dog. Its head pokes out of the shadows under the window. You pat the empty spot on the bed and it jumps up excitedly before laying down and letting you scratch behind its ears.

Megumi chuckles behind you and shakes his head. “You just wanted the dog on the bed didn’t you?” He reaches over to ruffle its soft fur as it dozes off.

“Checkmate,” you crane your head to place a kiss on his cheek before settling back against him. “Now will you please try to go back to sleep? I don’t want to nag you but realistically you can’t function on only two hours of sleep.”

“I’ll try but I can’t make any promises you know.” He tucks his chin on top of your head and relaxes around you. You hum in acknowledgment before slowly drifting back to sleep.

#fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x reader #jjk #megumi fic #megumi smut #anime #fanfic #megumi fluff #megumi x y/n

172 notes · View notes

justforthehe11ofit · 3 years

Text

‘Until Death Do Us Part, Again.’ Julian Devorak x Reader

(Chapter 1: A Very Warm Welcome)

Now finished!

This is part of a multi-chapter fic, If you would like to read the rest you can read it on my AO3 page which is the same username as on here! Or click the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32643664

'His words warble as his emotions take hold, tears staining his cheeks while he grasps the apprentice tighter, "I will never let you go again, my love. I promise."' Continuing after the tale 'A Warm Welcome', Julian struggles to fight his doubts on whether a proposal while staying in Nevivon is a good idea, missing the opportunity in the hot springs and of course causing more trouble than he can handle (at least he asks for help this time).

A headcanon that I have inspired by the assumptions of others in which they thought Julian was going to propose during the hot springs scene, where he is given another opportunity eventually... not without creating problems for himself beforehand. That would be un-Julian like.

Word Count: 1,641

As soon as he mumbles the words, Portia incredulously glares down at Julian across the table, barely taller than him as she stands, while he shrinks into his chair. “Excuse me? Could you repeat that because I don’t think I heard you right.”

“I… didn’t do it?...” Leaning across the table with his hands joined and bunching up his shoulders, Julian plasters on an award winning pity grin, which of course Portia does not buy into.

“What do you mean ‘you didn’t do it’?” Nasally mocking his excuse.

“I-I just didn't, okay!” He drops his head into his hands, with an exasperated sigh and brows furrowed, “I wanted to but it was as if my hands didn’t want to cooperate and gave into my own nervousness, so I just didn’t do it.”

After returning from the hot springs, Julian and the apprentice had finished cleaning the remains of dinner, just chatting and enjoying each other’s company, until Portia had strolled in. As she was seeping with anticipation, Julian told Y/N he would join them soon for sleep, and so was left to be bombarded with questions about if he had gone through with what he had told Portia a few days before departing from Vesuvia.

Motioning her arms outward, Portia states “you know you had the perfect opportunity, right?”

“I know.” Mumbling the pitiful words into his hands, slumping further.

“You two had the whole place to yourselves AND on a night as beautiful as this! And you didn’t go for it?”

“I know!” Arms lying flat, exclaiming his sorrows into the dining table.

“I mean, how often does a perfect opportunity like that happen? Are you that thick in the head, Ilyushka!”

He raises his head to address her, “Yes, I know! Thank you Pasha, I get it!” Then presses his cheek to the smooth cloth covering. Taking a moment to calm the air, Julian reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring he had bought a couple weeks prior to leaving, twirling it in his fingers.

He had spotted the red glint in a jeweller’s shop window on his way home from visiting the Palace, not the most flashy ring he’d ever seen but the tone of the ruby’s colour made him pause. When he had gotten home he couldn’t stop thinking about it for days, the image of it popping into his head from even a blush that would dust the cheeks of his partner. It’s strange to think about how something so small can hold such an overwhelming promise to it.

Passing a faint sigh, Portia pulls out a wooden chair across from Julian and sits, just watching the ring catch the glow of the gentle candle light. His mouth is set in a subtle frown and his silver eyes distant. “I’m sorry, I just supposed that when you had excused yourself it was because you were going to propose to them.” He still seems conflicted. She asks hesitantly, “do you... want to?”

Julian raises his head, “of course I do, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before. I’m over the moon for them!” He stops fiddling with the ring, placing it out in front of him and resting his chin against his palm, leaving the other to lie on the table, not saying more.

“And yet?” This makes him look away, thinking her question over.

“I think,” he pauses, “it may just be too soon to ask them. Considering everything that has happened between myself and Y/N, and even everyone else.” Julian’s gaze holds on the jewellery, and he shrugs, “I feel it may just be too much for them emotionally. We still have so much to process, it’s only been just over a month or two since things finally settled.” He sighs dejectedly, “even with this time of reprieve we’ve had, things have still been crazy with plans to rebuild the city, me running the clinic, Y/N running the shop and then traveling to Nevivon. It just still seems like it’s been so much to handle.” His eyebrows furrow and his frown becomes prominent, and he covers the ring with his hand, “I don’t even know if this is what they would want.”

Portia watches intently, mirroring Julian’s expression. She gently covers his hand with hers and leans over gaining his attention, his eyes widening, “trust me, they would say yes in a heartbeat. You two took down the Devil together for crying out loud! Give or take myself, Asra, Nadia, Maz and Nazali but that’s not my point,” she states as Julian raises a brow at her comment. “What I’m trying to say is that you two have already been to hell and back, so I wouldn’t doubt that if you went to them right now and asked, they wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.” Julian manages a smile at that, his cheeks reddening. The mood growing lighter at last. “I mean if we are being honest, you two have technically known each other for years, right?”

“Well, considering we did work together during the plague, you could say we have.” His smile falls a little, “although those memories are lost to them now.”

“And? Go make new ones with them then,” Portia lifts Julian’s hand, takes the ring and places it back, then she wraps his hand around it and holds it together, “we’re going to be here for a while yet so I’m sure there will be another chance to pop the question to Y/N and not have you sabotage yourself again.” She stands satisfied, leaving Julian to laugh at her jab.

“Hah, well I suppose you’re right.” He secures the ring back in his pocket, standing as well to head to bed.

“Of course I am, but pep-talks with you are draining so you got off lucky. Next time, I’ll kick the back of your knees and put you in a head-lock instead. It’s less effort and more effective.” With that, she heads out the door and to her allocated room, leaving Julian concerned but thankful.

He blows out the candle, allowing the moonlight to guide him to the room the Grandma’s gave to Y/N and himself to stay in while they are visiting Nevivon. Carefully, he turns the handle on the modest door and peeks in to make sure he doesn’t disturb his partner if they’re already asleep. And to his delighted surprise, they’re sitting against the head of the bed reading a book.

“What are you still doing awake, my dear? It’s late.” Despite telling them this, he’s glad he gets to say goodnight to them of course.

“Mmhmm, so I’m not allowed to stay up, but you are then?” A raised brow and a smirk grace their face as if mimicking Julian’s signature expression. Despite only living together for a relatively short amount of time, both have picked up mannerisms from the other. Bonding over little sayings that the apprentice may tell him where he now notices that he repeats in other conversations from time to time, while Y/N has been able to think of more quips to outwit Julian, and he is more than delighted when they can go into a back-and-forth teasing match until one of them ultimately loses. But it’s hardly ever a loss as one of them will usually glow red in the cheeks. Or that it will lead to other activities.

He grins at them.“Yes?”

They stare at him a little longer, until they break with a giggle. “Just come to bed already.”

Julian gingerly closes the door and strolls over to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge and tasks himself with getting his boots off and pyjamas on. “Portia seemed eager before I left.” Y/N states.

This makes Julian halt for a moment. Did they hear him and Portia talking in the kitchen? Were they too loud? Did Julian just ruin his chances at ever giving Y/N the ring while revealing his true feelings and now they want to leave him and never see him again? “Uhm, yeah. I suppose she was.”

“Is she okay?” Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

“She’s… fine. Yeah she just wanted to tell me about how there is going to be a special town event next week.” Julian has only managed to get his left boot off. Maybe if he made a run for it now he could steal a boat and travel to another city, take a new identity and start fresh to save himself from the grave he was currently digging for himself.

“Oh really! What’s the occasion?” Y/N now has their sole attention on this mystery event that Julian has sprung onto them and alarm bells are going off in his head wishing he had just said she was okay and called it a night.

He feels sweat running down his neck. “Uh, it’s a surprise.” Portia is going to kill him when he tells her about this. “Yes, a surprise event that they hold every now and then! I guess the town thinks that our arrival here is as good a time as any to hold it.” Finally Julian manages to get his other boot off and slip out of his clothes into his pajamas. Oh there is no going back now.

“That sounds amazing! I can’t wait for it, I’m sure it will be a night to remember.” Y/N snuffs out the candle with a whisper of magic while Julian slips into bed and opens his arms to embrace them as they settle their head on his chest, holding each other close and sharing a kiss goodnight.

Julian finishes by saying, “yes, a night to remember for sure.” He’s not sure if he will be able to rest well tonight.

He is very much in trouble.

#the arcana #the arcana julian #fanfic #yes I did stay up until 4am doing this #julian devorak x reader #the arcana x reader #portia devorak #the apprentice #julian devorak x mc

58 notes · View notes

imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Fifty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. Dom/sub relationship. Sub switching (Dom!reader, sub!Hotch). Bondage (ropes and handcuffs). Sex toys (vibrating cockring). Gag (using a suit tie). Edging. Name calling. Impregnation kink. Stop light safe word system. Cock warming for aftercare (to prevent sub dropping). Oh, boy. Sin. Just pure sin. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying “good girl”.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 6855

Timeline: Right after part forty-nine.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

I recognized that look in his eyes. It was the same one I had every time I was in his position. Lust mixed with fear of the unknown of what was to come. There was an insatiable desire to reach out, to touch me, to kiss me, to hold me, to fuck me; all of which he couldn’t have. This started as his game, one which he thought he could win at every time. To his surprise, though, I managed to win— likely just this once, but still— and I was going to take advantage of this opportunity, there was no doubt. Hence, the look in his eyes.

Hotch’s whole body tensed as he heard the click of the black box opening. He was watching me intently, trying to figure out my next moves before I could even make them, but he didn’t have enough experience in the position he was in to build a profile about my behaviors just yet. I didn’t keep him waiting too long like he enjoyed doing with me. I grabbed the longer lengths of rope that we had rolled up in the bottom of the box, and I showed him as soon as I had a grip on them. He tensed again, his erect cock twitching slightly in his pants at the sight of me unraveling the lengths of rope.

I smirked as I laid the untangled ropes over his thighs, just to see how he would react. He jumped slightly. He was on edge… I couldn’t blame him when I always acted the same way. It looked like he almost wanted to plead for mercy, just like he always made me do. It was nice to see him like that, having already relinquished control, excited to know more about my plans.

As I crawled onto the bed, my legs straddling his thighs, Hotch instinctively made a move to reach out for me, but he immediately stopped himself when he remembered the rules. No touching. I grinned slightly before biting my bottom lip seductively. He looked so good for me, his chest bare, his blue dress pants still on, his forehead already beginning to sweat as he anticipated my torture and love. I wondered if that was how I always looked while trying my hardest to obey the rules despite how hard he tried to make me break them. I wanted him to reach out, I wanted him to dare to touch me, to kiss me, to buck his hips up to beg me for more. I wanted him to break the rules in order to give me an excuse to torture him more. He was already in trouble for using me in the car the other morning at the park, and then forgetting that it was Valentine’s Day today. He told me that he would make it up to me, and he was certainly trying his best.

When we got home from the bar, Hotch tried pushing me against the wall and claiming dominance, but I had to remind him that I was the one who won our race the other day, meaning that I still had to claim my prize. He whined— Aaron Hotchner, of all people, whining in my ear— and he grinded his hips against mine for friction, but I pushed him away.

“I won’t let you cum at all if you keep it up,” I said sternly.

I bet Hotch was regretting the competition altogether, but most importantly, how his strict dominance had been teaching me a thing or two about how to put him in his place. We didn’t switch often because I liked being out of control, and he liked watching me writhe; but there were times like this where I found it arousing to see him realize that he had no choice but to be obedient. It was like that night we were going to JJ’s Superbowl party a couple years ago. That night had never left my mind, and I always wondered if we would have another scene like it. I mean, there were times where Hotch liked having me on top… Actually, if we weren’t doing a scene, he preferred it. But there was something different about making him submissive to me. The thought alone was so intoxicating I felt like I could have jumped in then and there, but would have been the point, then?

When we had finally moved to the bedroom, I tore off Hotch’s suit jacket, pulled off his tie as quickly as I could, then shoved him onto the bed. He let me do with him as I pleased, keeping in mind that I had earned this, even though I technically cheated. He had a few days to argue this, but he never did, and he still wasn’t. He wanted this, and that made me want him more. Yet, I paced myself, taking my time unbuttoning his shirt. I had an obsession with his chest and how he would constrict with the slightest of touches. He had always been like that, even long before Foyet attacked him, but now it was twofold because of that. While I was first scared of touching him after that, he insisted that he was fine and he liked how handsy I got with his chest, and he never wanted that to stop. It took some time to get used to it, but now it was easy to ignore the scars and just focus on how he shivered under my touch.

“Please,” he whispered quietly, letting the plea just barely fall off his lips like he hadn’t meant to do it because he was too focused on staying still.

“Please… what, baby?” I asked with the same quiet, considerate tone. I wanted to keep him at ease, to make sure that this was still fine and that he wasn’t going to hate it. He liked what happened the night of the Superbowl, and I liked the trouble that it got me into, but Hotch, by nature, wasn’t a submissive. If there was any chance that he was going to be uncomfortable, then it wasn’t worth it. I loved him too much to not care about what he wanted. “Tell me.”

“More.” He bucked his hips.

I put more of my weight down on his thighs to keep him still. “Hands,” I demanded quietly.

Hotch immediately held his wrists out of me, pressing them together because he already knew what was coming. I kissed his knuckles gently as I collected his wrists in my grip. His fingers stretched, trying to hold my face tenderly. Despite how fast we were moving and how aroused both of us were, the urge to leap into action and just fuck each other crazy hadn’t settled yet. Maybe it was the fact that it was Valentine’s Day, or maybe it was the fact that we were taking it slow to make sure that this was something we both really wanted, but we left some time to just be sensual and catch our breaths. Besides, it didn’t hurt that the slower I would take things, the more desperate he would get for me, which, in my book, was a win.

“Just breathe,” I told him as I leaned down and kissed his lips. He let out a sigh through his nose before leaning up slightly to kiss me harder. While he was distracted with still trying to prove his dominance the only way he could, through our shared kiss, I started wrapping the rope around his wrists. He gasped at the bite of the rope as I pulled it tight. “Just breathe.”

As I tied off the rope to create an inescapable restraint, I leaned up from his lips to watch him struggle and pull. He tried with all his might to separate his wrists, his biceps bulging and his chest tightening as he did so. Just as I wanted. When he realized that he wasn’t going anywhere and that I was getting a little too much out of watching him spar with his restraints. Displeased with the way he profiled my excitement, I grabbed the ends of the rope, the extra lengths I had left for the rest of my plan and tugged. He whimpered at the feeling but fell silent as I leaned over him to tie him to the headboard.

While I had strategically leaned over him in a way that my cleavage would be right in his face, I hadn’t expected him to crane his neck up and attack my collarbone with a nibbling kiss. My strength weakened as he started leaving a mark and bucked his hips up again.

“Stop it,” I growled in his ear.

“I need you,” he whined. I swear, I could never get over that. “Please.”

“Not yet.” I leaned back up and slid down his thighs a bit more so that he couldn’t reach me in any way and if he tried to buck his hips again, it wouldn’t do anything to give either of us the relief we wanted. “Pull.” I wanted to admire my work. I wanted to take a moment to just be in his shoes for once and see what was so appealing about watching me struggle.

He did as he was told, yanking at the rope to test his mobility against the headboard. Nothing. He had maybe two to three inches of wiggle room away from it, but that was it. Hotch slumped. “I hate you.”

“Now you get it.” I smirked.

I reached down and started fiddling with his belt buckle, my hands so close to where he needed me most, but not yet daring to venture there. Hotch immediately stopped moving. Every inch of him was still, the only thing to notice was his wide eyes and the way he was biting his lip. When I finally got the buckle undone, he released his lip, letting out a breath of relief, even though I hadn’t done anything to free him yet. As I pulled off the belt, though, carefully sliding the leather out of each of the loops, Hotch rose his hips to help me, but then obediently lowered them when I was done.

Suddenly, Hotch let out a loud moan as my wrist accidentally passed over his hardened length. “I’m going to spank you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week,” he hissed as he calmed himself down.

I tsked my tongue. “Nuh uh, that wasn’t the deal of the competition. You can’t punish me for anything I do tonight.”

“Fuck the rules—”

A breathless moan escaped him as I caught him off guard by palming him through his pants on purpose this time to get him to stop talking. “You always have such a mouth on you…” My fingers danced over his tip as his pants continued to strain around him. “I always get punished for talking back, but you…” I did it again and he moaned once more. “You’re worse because you think I’d never do anything to you.” I stopped touching him all together and rolled off the bed. “Maybe, just maybe, this’ll do the trick.” I opened up the black box again and pulled out a toy for Hotch. I turned to face him, rolling it in my hands, taking note of how he gulped and widened his eyes. “You trust me?” I inquired. He nodded instantly. “Color?”

“Green, baby.”

He seemed more eager than I had ever seen him before. I didn’t realize that he would be into this. I thought that he might have found it to be a bit much; but then again, we had reviewed everything in that box together, talking about what they did and what Hotch would be interested in using. While we mainly focused on the toys that we could use on me— since that was our dynamic— we had still discussed this. But I never thought in a million years that he would actually want to use this.

As I sat back down on his thighs, Hotch shifted to get more comfortable, and I let him. “Hotch,” I put a hand on his chest to signify a pause and to clarify sincerity, “you tell me if we need to stop. I’m serious.”

His eyes searched mine for a moment before he said, “Kiss me.” I obliged, knowing that we both needed it. “I love you.”

I winked at him as I moved down to kiss his cheek, jawline, neck, collarbone, pecks, stomach, and… He sucked in a breath as I worked my way down to where he needed me most. When he thought that I would finally touch him, I grinned to myself and started kissing back up his body. My hands held his sides, my thumbs running over his scars out of habit.

I loved every bit of Hotch, no matter what he looked like. While I could have argued all day that I definitely loved him more with the beard, he always knew that I was joking. But his scars were just as much a part of him as his eyes and nose were. They had bad memories attached to them, of course, but they reminded me every day how lucky I was to have him still and how I would do anything for him. There were hundreds of different instances where I nearly lost him, but the scars were a reminder that even if the worst could happen, I would still have him. He was there, in my arms, between my legs, and he was all mine. I loved him. Every fucking inch of him.

He liked leaving marks on my neck, I could show the same courtesy. So, as I nibbled lightly and sucked a patch of skin on his neck as payback for earlier when he did it without permission, my hands squeezed his sides again to feel him tense up underneath me.

When I was content with the obvious hickey my lips started making their way down again. I could feel him still straining in his pants, begging for release, begging for attention. I wasn’t going to give him anything, though. Not yet. Hotch liked teasing me, to dance around what I needed most in order to put me on edge, to make me more desperate for him. The more I wanted him, the better our sex was. He knew that, I knew that, and that was exactly why he did it every damn time. After four years of knowing Hotch, and learning about his tricks as a dominant, I knew a thing or two about torturing him and making him need me more.

“You’re so hard, baby,” I cooed, kissing the buttons on his pants. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what I’m thinking about,” he hissed.

“Tell me.”

Hotch lifted his head to squint at me, but I didn’t double back on my order. My fingers played with the waistband of his pants, putting the idea into his mind that I would pull them off if he just answered.

“I’m thinking about finally being inside of you.”

I undid the first button. “And?”

He caught onto my game and eagerly made his next play. “Having you ride me.” The next button popped open. “Cumming inside you…” I slowly started pulling his zipper down. “Feeling you clench around me as you cum around my cock.” I grabbed the waistband again. “I can practically already hear you screaming my name.” He threw his head back as he worked with me to help me pull his pants off. “And…” he fell silent as his pants fell to the floor, leaving him in his underwear.

“Don’t stop.”

He gulped. “I can’t—” He shivered as I ran my hands up and down his thighs slowly. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Try.” I grabbed the waistband of his underwear now, hesitating to pull them down until I got at least one more thing from him.

“I— Please…”

“One more.”

“I can’t wait to feel the toy on me—”

His mouth fell agape as I pulled his underwear down, his erection finally springing free. When he was finally nude, finally presented bare for me, I took a moment to admire him. I had never seen him look so panicked yet so in love. He seemed like he was scared of what was to come, but he was excited for the pleasure that would come out of it. Just as I always was. I liked that the tables were turned around for once. He spent years torturing me like this, and I was finally getting the chance to get back at him. This was practically a once in a lifetime kind of experience, considering how careful he’d be in the future to make sure I’d never get this opportunity again.

I was going to ruin him.

I took my index finger and carefully reached out to run the pad of my nail up and down his length slowly. I was barely hovering my touch over him, and he was already bucking around to feel me. I eyed him sternly, pulling my hand away before I could even touch him for a single moment, and he whined, letting his body fall limp again. Slowly, I shuffled down his thighs, moving them apart slightly so that I could rest between them while sitting on my knees. Hotch lifted his head off the pillows so that he could watch me as I bent down, my face level with his cock, begging for my attention, and my ass up in the air. I bet he was thinking about fucking me like that because his erection twitched with anticipation, and I smiled before sticking my tongue out.

Starting at the base of his cock, I licked a gentle stripe up his shaft. He moaned and pulled at the ropes. I pulled away from him to give him a look that warned him to be careful. When he was settled again, I brought my index finger to hip tip and slowly caressed it, spreading his precum around. He wiggled anxiously, twitching against my touch. He was so fucking sensitive. I loved it. This whole time, he wanted me to touch him, and while it was probably a relief to feel something, it was probably torture that I was only touching the places where it was nearly painful if teased for too long.

“Please— Y/N—” He threw his head back. “Fuck— Baby girl— Ah—” I flattened my tongue on his tip, licking up the mess I had made of him. “Y/N—”

“Stop making noise,” I demanded. A smirk suddenly flashed on my face as a thought occurred to me. “Or I’ll gag you.” Using his own threats against him was so satisfying, but the look on his face was priceless.

I tasted him again, this time circling his tip with my tongue, my fingers dancing lightly at the base. Through my lashes, I could see him holding back moans and pleas by choosing to pant and bite his lip instead. I decided to push further, see what reactions I could get out of him. How much longer until he would break? I tested it by leaning forward slightly, allowing myself the angle to wrap my lips around his girth.

“Y/N!” He tugged as hard as he could, his legs pulling up and in towards his body slightly.

I had hardly even put my mouth on him, and I already broke him. He was such a mess. Even more so when I took my mouth off of him and squeezed his thighs. “I warned you.” I stretched to the side of the bed, not quite getting off of Hotch, but not applying the same weight on his legs as before. I reached down to the floor and grabbed his red tie that I had torn off of him earlier. When I settled back on his thighs, I rolled and crumpled the tie in my hands, forming it into a loose ball that would unravel if I stopped applying pressure around it. “Open.”

“You’re not seri—”

Before he could utter anything else, I shoved the tie in his open mouth. He yelled behind it, but he was muffled now, unable to enunciate anything.

“You’re right about gagging; it is nice to finally be left to work in silence.” I smirked and sat up, reaching to the side for the toy I had grabbed from the black box earlier.

He pulled at his restraints, knowing what was about to come. While he probably didn’t want to stop me entirely, he probably wasn’t too keen on the idea of me torturing him with it until I was content with his squirming and pleading.

“Hold still.” I grabbed his face and made him look at me. “Knock for Colors.” He knocked three times before I could even go through them with him again. “I love you,” I whispered as I dragged my nails down his chest slowly. His abs tightened at the feeling, earning a wider smirk from me. “Remember to breathe.”

I turned the toy around in my hands, finding the right way to go about putting it on. His breath shallowed as he focused on breathing, just as I instructed. I gripped the outside of the toy and slowly started lowering it over his cock. His hips lightly bucked in response at first, but then he fell apart into a puddle of loose moans behind his gag as I continued to slide it down every inch of him even slower.

“Fuck, baby,” I couldn’t help but moan at the sight.

The cock ring was so tight on him… I could feel him flexing inside of it, trying to adjust to the cold plastic feeling that was nowhere near as satisfying as being inside of me, but it was still a relief to feel more than just my light touches that were slowly killing him. Then, as it settled towards his balls, Hotch let out a relieved groan, his eyes screwing shut, his head falling back. My eyes focused on his face, trying to get a read on if he was still alright, but then I saw that there was a smile hidden behind his gag. And I thought that I was the masochist.

“I can’t believe you,” I chuckled. Hotch opened his eyes slowly to look at me. “You’re worse than me.” I ran my finger up his length again, yearning a light scream from him. “Color.” He knocked three times after hesitating a moment to let out another moan as I fisted my hand around his length. “Do you remember what this does?” I asked, tapping the cock ring lightly with my other hand. He nodded. “You’ll knock if you want to stop?” He nodded again. “Good.”

My hand moved up and down his dick, stopping just above where the cock ring began. I couldn’t believe how hard he was, and I couldn’t believe that he actually loved this as much as he was. I expected that he would enjoy it, but he’d get frustrated and ask to have it taken off… But he was loving every second of it, despite how tight it was around him. The best part hadn’t even come yet, and he was already puddy in my hands. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what his reaction was going to be when the next step approached.

“Baby—” he moaned through the gag, clear enough for me to understand.

“You want it?”

He nodded. “Please…”

My fingers that had been tapping at the cock ring stilled for a moment as I searched around for the switch on the top. There was a pack at the top of the ring that held a mini vibrator bullet. When turned on, it shook the ring around him, but the best part was that when I would ride him, it would be pressed right against my clit.

Hotch suddenly tugged at the restraints as I found the switch, turning on the vibrator. My hand that was wrapped around him started pumping again slowly to ease his tension, but it actually only seemed to make it worse. His whole body was tensing up. He was focused on pulling against the restraints, trying to see if he could somehow free himself. When I wiped my thumb over his sensitive tip, he immediately went limp again— which was exactly what I wanted.

“Oh…” I pouted on his behalf. “Are you a little sensitive?” He nodded excessively. “If I just…” I leaned down and pressed my tongue to his tip again. For just a moment, I felt how his length was shaking due to the vibrator, but also because he was already so close. I sat up. “Poor thing.” I tore my hands off him and he tugged again. “It took you three hours to realize that you forgot about Valentine’s Day. I’m almost tempted to edge you for three hours just because of that.” His eyes shot wide as he looked up at me again. I chuckled quietly. “What? You don’t want that?” He shook his head. “But I thought I get to do whatever I want tonight.” He shook his head. “You’re already so close,” I chuckled as I took note of how hard he was shaking. “Aren’t you?” He didn’t answer, which meant that he was. I tsked my tongue and turned off the vibrator. Hotch cried out behind his tie. “Color.” He knocked three times. “So good for me,” I bit my lip. When I knew that he had calmed down a bit since his edge, I carefully reached down and turned the vibrator back on. “Does that feel good, baby?” I asked after noticing how he was just a puddle of broken moans.

“Yes, baby girl,” I heard through the gag.

I smirked and put my hand around his length again. He cried out my name as I pumped as fast and hard as I could, stopping just short of the ring every time. Every few seconds or so, I’d take a moment to run my thumb over his tip, feeling how he just kept leaking for me. When I felt him getting close again, I turned off the vibrator and stilled my hand, but I didn’t pull away. Hotch bucked his hips, fucking my hand, thinking that it would tip him over the edge, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. We both knew that he wasn’t getting off that easy. So, he stopped. He hoped that his obedience would convince me to keep going, to make a mistake like letting him cum. But I wasn’t naïve. He was playing the same games I always played with him. Look where those always got me.

This time, once he was calm again, I didn’t turn on the vibrator. My hands continued their movements up and down his length, but this time there was no added stimulation from the toy, and I could see that it was killing him. He really did like it. I mean, over the past few minutes, he had proven to me that he appeared to like it, but I could tell by the way he was begging for me to turn it back on that he genuinely enjoyed the torturous pleasure the toy gave him. The way it squeezed around him, the way it jostled when he’d wiggle, the way it shook his length whenever I turned it on… he loved all of it.

And a thought hit me.

“My needy, little whore…” I whispered under my breath before turning the toy back on.

To my surprise, Hotch smiled and moaned at the slight degradation. It was nothing compared to some of the things he said to me— or could say to me but elected not to; but it came out of the blue, and he seemed to enjoy it. Maybe switching wasn’t as hard for him as I thought. Somehow, it seemed to come naturally to him, which was so odd considering how dominating he was. He loved controlling me, but there was some part of him that was revealing itself that night that was eager to just be used and controlled for once.

I turned the toy off mid thought when I felt him twitch in my hands.

“Fuck—” he screamed. “Baby—”

“I’m sorry, my love,” I cooed, leaning down to kiss his chest gingerly.

He panted against my lips and my chest that was pressed against his stomach. He had been so close that time, and I practically caught him before he could cum, or I could ruin him. Hotch was used to edging. We had done it a thousand times before, but I had never dared to ruin him before. His refractory period wasn’t short at all, and he always got extremely sensitive after climaxing. While that was certainly the ideal type of partner to ruin, Hotch probably would have hated it. Even if he wanted to try, I was sure that he’d end up disliking it, and then he’d feel uneasy by not getting the pleasure of actually tipping over the edge. Besides, his favorite thing to do was to cum inside me and stay there until he was sure that every drop was out… I couldn’t take that away from him when I was already torturing him in every other way. I wasn’t that cruel.

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

He knocked three times, but I just wanted to make sure, so I reached up and gently pulled the gag from his mouth. I made sure to hold his jaw open as I did so, barring him from snapping his mouth shut instinctively, which could’ve hurt him. As the tie left his mouth entirely, I helped him carefully close his mouth so that he could swallow his spit and catch his breath. He stopped panting and stared up at me lustfully.

“I love you,” he whispered. I turned the vibrator back on. “Maybe not—” he moaned. I squinted at him and turned it back off. “Wait— No. I’m sorry, baby, please. I’m sorry.” I turned it back on. “Thank you,” he sighed as he buried the back of his head into the pillow under him.

“And to think that I was actually about to ride you,” I teased. I wasn’t actually quite there yet, but he didn’t know that. His back talk, however, wasn’t helping his case. He told me that he couldn’t wait to be inside me, and I could use that to my advantage. Like now. “I was finally going to slide down on you like this…” I slowly lowered my fists over every inch of him, earning a moan from both of us. “And you were going to cum in me.”

“Please, baby,” he whined desperately. “I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But all you’re going to do is lay there and beg while I keep edging you.”

“I won’t last…”

“And I won’t care.”

“Y/N—” He paused when I cupped a hand over his neck. “Please—” I squeezed lightly. I felt him gulp against my hand. “I’m close again,” he warned, his voice hoarse.

“Beg.”

“No,” he refused, shaking his head vigorously. He was trying so hard to not give in still, despite how desperate he was. I knew the feeling.

“Beg.”

He whimpered and squirmed as he got really close. I was watching him, though, making sure he wouldn’t tip over the edge before I wanted him to. “Fuck, baby. Please. Please, let me cum. I’ll be good for you. Please. Anything. Please.” He let out another moan as his cock twitched. “Please!” He pulled at his restraints, his legs also flexing. I turned off the vibrator before he could cum. “No! Please! Y/N, please, anything, please!”

“Shh…” I cooed, running my nails down his chest lightly to distract him. “You did good, baby. Do you want me?”

He nodded. “Please, baby. Please…” He sounded so deliciously defeated. I loved it. “Ride me.”

I desperately reached for the hem of my shirt, ridding myself of it before anything else. When Hotch saw me in my bra, he let out another sigh, and his cock twitched again, earning a smirk from me. I lifted myself off him slightly so that I could start fidgeting with my black dress pants. I hadn’t been able to change since getting back from California, though it would have been better to wear something nice to the bar earlier, and for this special occasion with Hotch; but it was what it was. I struggled to shuffle my weight around so that I could get out of my pants and underwear while still straddling Hotch. He was still, watching me intently. I could tell that he was trying to be good so that I wouldn’t change my mind about finally fucking him.

“B—Bra—” he stuttered through a sigh once I had my panties off and I sat back down on him. He had been so good for me, taking his edges so well, begging just like I wanted him to; I could do that one thing for him. Besides, he wouldn’t get to touch. I liked that. “You’re so beautiful,” he complimented as I unclasped my bra and it fell off my shoulders. “Please, let me touch you.”

I shook my head. “No.” I put my left palm on his chest and grabbed his length in my right hand. “Still green?” He nodded. “So fucking good for me…” I sighed as I lowered myself down on him painfully slow. His mouth fell agape as he let a sigh mixed with a moan gently escaped him. “So hard for me, baby. Do you like being my little edge slut?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, throwing his head back again.

“Answer me.”

“Yes. Yes, baby. I do.”

As I sat down on him entirely, I took a moment for both of us to adjust before turning the vibrator on the cock ring on again. “Shit,” I moaned, falling forward against his chest slightly before I caught myself. I could feel him shaking inside of me while the vibrator was also pressed directly against my clit. I suddenly understood why it was so hard for him to relax with those edges I gave him. “Fuck… Fuck…” I kept my palm pressed against his chest for balance, but my other hand went back up to his neck to keep his head against the pillow. When he was pinned and puddy in my hands, I started riding him. “Hotch…” The vibrator moved against my clit as I rocked my hips.

“I won’t last long, Y/N.”

I had to catch up to him. Though it wouldn’t take long, I knew that I had a lot of desperation to make up for. Hotch had been edged countless times, and he seemed ready to explode whenever. Me, on the other hand, I just needed him to hold on a little longer. The vibrator and his cock were already getting me close as I bounced and rocked on him, but he just had to wait. He could do that for me.

He looked at me with pleading, lustful eyes that made me moan again. I leaned down, my hands still pressed to him, and I kissed him hard. He tugged at his restraints again, trying to touch me and hold me, or maybe even grab ahold of my hips to make me fuck him faster, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Y/N…” he moaned into mouth.

“I’m close, baby. Just hold it. You can do it; I know you can.”

His eyes screwed shut. “I’m trying.” I kissed his jawline. “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“Hold it.”

He was whimpering and whining, his hips still to prevent adding extra stimulation. I didn’t relent, though. I was so close. His cock hit my walls roughly, reaching a deep spot within me that made my knees weak.

“Cum in me, Aaron. Do it.”

I moaned against his jaw as I started falling apart. My stomach tightened into a thousand knots as the vibrator pushed me towards the edge. When I felt him orgasm inside me, his cock twitching, his cum shooting in me, I came for him. Just as he had asked for previously, my walls tightened around him, squeezing every drop out of him that he had to offer while I continued to fuck us through our orgasms.

“Y/N—” he gasped as the vibrator continued to torture his sensitive length. I rolled my hips again. “Fuck,” he hissed angrily. “Stop. Please.” I obeyed, slowing down my pace until I came to a steady halt. “The toy, baby, please— The toy—” He tugged against the restraints as hard as he could before I reached between us to turn the vibrator off. He sighed with relief and relaxed. “Fuck,” he chuckled.

“Was that okay?”

He smirked up at me. “I finally know how you feel.”

“And all it took was four years.”

“Untie me,” he begged, pulling at the restraints again.

I pouted and grinded myself down harder on him. “But you look so good like this, baby.” He hissed between his teeth, tensing up again at the feeling. I grinned and ran my fingers down his tight chest. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss him. His cock moved inside me as I rested my chest against his, our lips locking, his tongue fighting mine for dominance. When he started to win, however, I pulled away from him. “Hold still,” I cooed, stretching over him to start untying him from the headboard. When he was the slightest bit free, he let his arms fall down against the pillows. “Shh… come here…” I gently grabbed his tied wrists and brought them forwards towards me. “So good for me.” I kissed his knuckles again to comfort and distract him while I started undoing the rope around his wrists. When he was released and the rope fell on his chest, I kissed where the rope marks on his wrists were. “So, so good.”

Hotch leaned up slightly. “Did you enjoy your reward?”

I smiled shyly at him and nodded. I was falling down from Dom space, returning to how I usually was around him. I wasn’t crashing, which was a relief. It was a slow, steady, peaceful decline as the euphoria surrounding the situation died out. That mindset included taking the toy off him to make sure he could relax entirely. So, I carefully lifted myself off his length, both of us groaning at the feeling. I wasn’t sure why, but the running every morning and the rough fucking was getting to me more than usual. He was always big inside me, but it was different when my body was already weak while trying to build up muscle from the different kinds of workouts. The empty feeling of him leaving me was nearly unbearable, and I could tell that he was somewhat disappointed, too.

I looked at him as I sat on his thighs, my fingers hovering over the toy. “Just keep relaxing, okay?” He nodded. I gently pinched my thumb and index finger around the ring and started pulling it up. He hissed and fisted the sheets on either side of his body. “I know, baby…” I cooed, still moving. I knew that the sooner I got it off, the sooner he could relax, and we could call it a night. “You’re tensing,” I warned, feeling his thigh muscles constrict beneath me. “Almost there. I swear.” He let out a shaky breath and relaxed again so that I could pull it off the last two inches or so. “You did so good,” I complimented. “You still okay?”

He nodded again. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I stretched to put the ring on my bedside table, just to get it out of the way for the time being. Hotch grabbed my hips in his hands. “Baby?” I hummed a listening tone. “I need you.”

“Still?” I chuckled.

He shook his head. “Not like that. I just need to feel you.”

I couldn’t believe that. I mean, I knew that he enjoyed sitting inside me for a while afterwards just because it was too overwhelming to move sometimes; but what he was proposing was different. I didn’t object, though. Not at all. It was an innocent gesture— well, not innocent, but it was more so than what just happened, at least. So, I gave in. We moved together, adjusting slightly to make sure that he was comfortable, and then I grabbed his length, though it wasn’t hard now, and I carefully sat on him again. We both sighed with relief, grateful to feel each other again. And then when I was settled, I finally caught my breath.

“Okay. I’m officially sore,” I sighed as I collapsed over his chest.

His body shook slightly as he laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “Sore from?”

“Training.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

I kissed his peck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

----------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut

106 notes · View notes

kathonyxbee · 3 years

Text

Wicked Game

Happy Day 6 of Kathony Week! 🐝🌷⛈

I know I've been a little absent the past 3 days, but I had to finish and submit my dissertation. Which I did, yesterday, so I wrote today's fic. I do have an idea for a fic for yesterday's prompt, so I'll probably post that, too when I do it, but I don't think I'll have one for each day.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this smut galore! 💕

Make me. That was how it had started, this wicked game of theirs. With two simple words and a yellow cap.

Day 6: "Make me"

Anthony hid Kate's yellow cap, so when she asks him to tell her where it is, his response is "make me" and Kate does like a challenge.

Or, when Anthony gives Kate a challenge, she decides to torture him and smut ensues.

Anthony let out a heavy sigh and took a sip of his scotch, taking comfort in the familiar sensation amber liquid burning his throat, trying to relax. Not that he really needed to. It was only his family coming to dinner, after all. He took another sip, downing his drink. At least not all of them were coming, but it was enough that Hyacinth and Gregory would be there. Dear Lord.

The door to his study burst open, and he sat up, alarmed, but relaxed upon seeing Kate enter, looking a vision in a yellow gown covered in jewels that sparkled as they caught in the light whenever she moved. And Kate always moved, always in motion. And she always sparkled. She’d clearly been getting ready, her hair pulled into a neat twist, a few curls escaping it, and she hadn’t yet put on her jewelry, save for her engagement and wedding rings which always resided on the fourth finger of her left hand.

Kate had been a ball of stress, of constant fretting and worrying for the past two weeks or so, ever since the two of them invited his family over for dinner. They’d put the event off, first because they wanted to wait until the season was over, then because of the accident and Kate’s leg needing to heal, and then she’d gotten pregnant with Edmund, and then they’d moved into Bridgerton House, and Edmund had been born and the past year had been a whirlwind. But they’d finally decided on a date, and even Kate had to admit that doing this dinner at Bridgerton House was a much better idea than at his bachelor lodgings. So, invitations had been issued, and Kate had been spending the past two weeks fully immersed in the preparations. And, Anthony hadn’t quite anticipated what hell that would be. He was surprised no servants had deserted, but then Kate wasn’t a monster, not like that horrid Araminta Gunningworth. Actually, Kate was always lovely and kind with the servants, who were quite devoted to the new Lady Bridgerton. Suffice to say, the past two weeks had been eventful at Bridgerton House. But, finally, the dinner was happening and Anthony could have his wife back.

His wife.

He smiled at her, and opened his mouth to greet her, but Kate beat him to it, coming to stand in front of his desk.

“Anthony, have you seen my yellow cap?” she burst out, huffing slightly, clearly annoyed. “You know, the one that matches this dress?” she added, giving him a pointed look, one eyebrow raised.

Ah, so that was why she was here. Well, this was certainly going to be interesting because Anthony had absolutely no intention to tell her where it was.

“Well?”

He smiled, “hello, dear.”

“Yes, hi. My cap?”

“I have absolutely no idea where it is,” he lied. “Have you tried asking the servants?”

Kate huffed and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “well, of course I asked the servants!” she snapped. “I asked them, first,” she glared, rather pointedly at him, and he leaned back slightly, trying to appear relaxed, but concerned, not to give away the fact that he had the bloody hat. Or, why exactly he’d taken it. “But, then,” she drawled, rounding the desk to sit on it, closer to him, “I thought there is one person in this household I haven’t asked. And, he most certainly knows where my cap might be.” She smiled triumphantly, and he swallowed thickly. Even with the slight distance between them, he was suddenly assaulted by her scent, soap and lilies, leaving him dizzy, intoxicating with the scent of his wife.

“Humboldt?” he offered with a shrug, referring to their butler.

Kate rolled her eyes, “very funny,” she muttered acerbically. “You,” she said simply.

“Me?”

She nodded, “yes. You. You see, dear husband,” she said sweetly, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, “it just occurred to me that you have a rather peculiar dislike for my caps,” she informed him.

“I do?” It sounded like a question.

“Indeed,” she nodded.

“Well, I do find them unnecessary,” he told her, shrugging. “Especially when a woman has such beautiful hair as you,” he told her, reaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Kate rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Where is my cap?”

“I have no idea, darling,” he told her, emphasizing the term of endearment a little too much, and she tutted in response.

“Anthony?”

“Yes?”

“We both know you know where it is,” she said, glaring at him pointedly.

“We do?”

“We do,” she nodded emphatically. His shoulders slumped, slightly, causing Kate to grin. “Tell me where it is?”

“No.”

“No?” She arched an eyebrow.

“No,” he nodded.

“Anthony?” she prompted, trailing her fingers along his arm slightly, causing him to stiffen.

“Yes?” he dragged the word out, trying not to succumb to the fact that Kate had quite the effect on him.

“Tell me where my cap is,” she said slowly, enunciating each word, leaning closer to him, so close he was enveloped in her scent, making him dizzy.

“Make me,” he muttered. And, as soon as the word fell from his lips, he regretted it because Kate eyes flashed with something. His wife, after all, did like a challenge. And, Anthony knew, without a doubt, that he was in deep trouble.

“Very well,” Kate pursed her lips slightly, and stood up to lock the door of his study. Anthony swallowed convulsively as she returned to his desk.

Slowly, Kate swung her legs over, so she was sitting more comfortably on his desk, as opposed to just leaning on it, but put some distance between them, designed only to torture him.

“Kate,” he gulped, “what are you doing?”

She grinned, rather wickedly, that gleam in her eyes making him feel rather heated, and then leaned forward, closer to him, but not close enough to touch. “Well, dear husband,” she drawled, “we are going to play a game,” she informed him.

“We are?” he uttered, unable to formulate anything more coherent.

“Oh yes,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, and all Anthony wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but that was probably not the point of this game of hers. “The rules are very simple. I will try to guess where you’ve put my cap, and every time I’ve guess it right, you can touch me,” she informed him simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Touch you?” he muttered.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed out, and then tugged on the neckline of her dress slightly, revealing a little more of her breasts. Her perfect, perky breasts. Anthony reached for her, intending to help her, but she stopped him, her fingers gripping his wrist. “No touching,” she muttered, leaning closer to him. “Not now,” she smirked.

Oh. Good God.

“Kate, I-” Anthony swallowed thickly, cutting himself off, as Kate’s hands roamed over her breasts, squeezing them slightly, tugging the material of her dress away from them, revealing more of her perfect chest, but not too much, just enough to torture him.

She bit her lip, “so, is it here? At Bridgerton House?” she asked, still working to free her breasts, and Anthony wanted to reach for her, to help her. Up close, he noticed that her dress wasn’t simply a light yellow, but mixed with a light peach and pink fabric that made Kate’s dark skin glow. It was an odd sort of thing to notice, the specific colors of her dress, but there it was.

“I could help you, you know,” he informed her, licking his lips. She hummed, still smirking.

“Oh, yes. That would be lovely. But, first you must tell me if I’m right,” she told him. “That is how it works, dearest husband. You tell me if I’m right, you can help me,” she explained, her lips twitching. Oh. Good Lord, she was good, his wife. She was bloody good. Deviously so. She would win, either way. And, he had already lost. And, he found, that he didn’t particularly mind.

“Yes,” he grunted. “Yes, it’s here. In this house.”

She grinned, her eyes gleaming with glee. “Well, go on, then. Help me, Anthony,” she muttered breathlessly, motioning for him.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and immediately moved closer to her, reaching for her, his hands going to the three small buttons at the back of her dress, slowly undoing them. He didn’t need to see them to know where they were, and he much preferred to be staring at Kate’s bosom as he undid the buttons.

“Good,” she muttered as his hands rested on her shoulders, fingers grasping onto the sleeves of her dress, intending to tug it off, but she stopped him, seizing his wrists. “My turn,” she muttered as he removed his hands from her shoulders, pushing him back into his chair.

And then, she reached for the hem of her dress, her hand going underneath it, and Anthony knew where this was going to lead, what she was about to do, and she was going to use it to torture him. He reached for her again, but she stopped him with her free hand.

She tutted, “that isn’t how the game works, Anthony. I haven’t made my guess, yet.” She smirked, “no touching, or I shall have to tie you to this chair,” she added. He only managed to grunt his assent as Kate let out a small moan.

He didn’t need to see beneath her skirts to know what she was doing. After all, not only did he have a rather vivid imagination, especially when it came to his wife’s body, but he also knew her body, better than his own, even. He knew every inch of skin, ever crevice, her tickle spots as well as her pleasure spots, he knew all of her. And he knew her hand had trailed along her legs until she’d reached her maidenhead, and he imagined her rubbing her fingers against it as she panted slightly. He felt himself getting hard, wanting to get up and sweep her into his arms, lay her on his study desk and have his way with her.

“Is it…” he breath hitched slightly in her throat, “is it in our bedroom?”

He shook his head, and stood up to move closer to her, this time reaching for her corset, his fingers deftly undoing its laces as Kate let out another moan, her movements beneath her skirt becoming quicker. “But, you already knew that, didn’t you?” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin, and he felt her shiver slightly.

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, panting slightly. “Is it,” she paused and her free hand ghosted over her breasts once more, rubbing them slightly as he sat back down, “is it in the drawing room?”

He shook his head once more, but didn’t move.

Kate was looking increasingly flushed, her movements more rapid, “is it in the informal drawing room?”

Again, he shook his head.

“The dining room?” she asked, her breath hitching in her throat as she continued to pleasure herself.

“No,” he told her, his own voice husky as he stood up and rounded the table, and slowly began undoing her coiffure.

“Anthony!” she exclaimed, but he ignored her, removing the pins in her hair, letting her curls fall down, slowly, one by one.

“I did help you. Twice,” he whispered into her ear, and because he couldn’t help himself, he nipped slightly on it, teeth grazing it lightly. “And, it’s not in the dining room, either. Or, in Edmund’s room.” He smirked, “two can play at this game, wife. I’ve helped you four times, now.”

Kate gasped, and reached for him, her hand cupping the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair as Anthony removed the last of her pins, her dark curls now falling freely down her shoulders. She stiffened, arching her back slightly, and he could see that she was reaching her pinnacle as her fingers continued to rub against her clit.

“The spare bedrooms?” she asked.

“Wrong again,” he muttered as his hands roamed her breasts, over the material of her dress, rubbing over where her areoles were, causing Kate to let out another moan. She arched her back again, tensing slightly, as he nipped on her ear once more while his hands continued groping her breasts. “I could tell you, you know?” he whispered into her ear.

“You forfeit so easily?” she quipped as she leaned against him slightly, her hands gripping his hair harder.

“You drive a hard bargain, wife,” he remarked. “Besides, I think I should much prefer helping you than playing this game,” he added, smirking slightly.

“I see,” she murmured.

“You do see, don’t you?”

“Well,” she trailed her fingers along his jaw, “where is it?”

“If I tell you,” he muttered, “I want a condition of my own.”

“And, what would that be?” she whispered as his hands trailed down to rest on her waist, and he could practically see the smug smirk she wore.

“I get to have my way with you,” he said simply, his voice a low, husky whisper. “On this desk,” he added, his voice hoarse.

“Well, I do like the sound of that,” she murmured, smirking slightly.

He merely hummed and pushed her dress down until it pooled on the floor before undoing the rest of the laces of his wife’s corset. And then, he picked her up and gently set her onto his desk, sweeping his things off in the process, but he could care less as he took in the sight of Kate lying on his desk, her curls a halo around her head, her skin flushed, her eyes dark with lust as he removed his tailcoat and cravat.

“So, where is it?” she whispered as she sat up slightly, helping him remove his waistcoat and shirt, her hands roaming all over his torso.

“Where is what, dear wife?” he asked, furrowing his brow slightly.

“The cap!” she huffed.

“Ah,” he sighed. “I’m not going to simply tell you. Where is the fun in that?” he quipped, and Kate glared at him as he positioned himself over her, ready to pounce. “You’re going to have to make me,” he told her, smirking deviously.

“What?” she gasped as her hands wound around his neck, fingers gripping onto his hair, tugging on it.

“Make me,” he muttered against her lips, the scent of soap and lilies enveloping him once more.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Make me. That was how it had started, this wicked game of theirs. With two simple words and a yellow cap.

Kate had never considered herself a wicked woman, had never considered that what happened between a married couple was for any purpose other than making children. But, Anthony Bridgerton had changed all that. He’d taught her that it was as much about her pleasure as his, he’d taught her how to pleasure herself, he’d taught her how to be adventurous and, yes, wicked. After all, her husband used to be the biggest Rake of them all. Of course, he was now anything but dangerous and rakish, but the two of them did enjoy the occasional bedroom adventure. He’d made her wicked, only for him, of course, and she found that she did not mind. She rather liked it, actually. After all, she was the one who had come up with their little wicked game, pleasuring herself in front of him until he’d given in.

“Make me,” he repeated, breathlessly, against her lips. Kate smirked. Anthony’s brow furrowed.

Slowly, she tilted her head and pressed her lips against the crease that had formed between his eyebrows, a barely-there kiss, her lips merely ghosting over the spot before she cupped his cheeks, and captured his lips with her own as her legs wrapped around his waist, and she felt him move between her legs, rocking slightly.

Her lips moved slowly against his, but Anthony soon deepened the kiss as his hands roamed her body, fingers trailing along her sides before cupping her breasts, rubbing over her nipples. Kate didn’t shy from responding to his movements, her own hands roaming all over his body, fingers trailing along his back as her lips became more urging, more demanding against his.

Anthony briefly broke the kiss, and pulled back slightly, his nose rubbing against hers. “Kate…” he gasped, “I don’t think- I can’t wait, Kate, I-”

“Me neither,” she murmured against his lips. “I want you, Anthony. I want you now.”

That was all he needed to thrust into her, and he shifted them both around slightly, accommodating himself, and allowing her to be comfortable. She always was, her husband fitting perfectly inside her. The two of them fit, just right, as if they’d been made for each other, perfectly in sync. Slowly, he began thrusting into her, and she ground her hips against his, matching his movements.

“You feel so good,” he muttered. “So damn good, Kate…”

“Mm… Anthony,” she moaned as her fingers dug into his skin slightly. She needed him, needed him like she needed air. “Faster, Anthony,” she urged him, breathlessly, and he picked up pace, his thrusts becoming more rhythmic as their lips crashed once more, molding perfectly with each other, tongues tangled together. “Oh, Anthony…” she sighed against his lips as he broke the kiss.

“Kate…” he gasped before his lips brushed against her jaw, pressing a kiss there. And then, another one. And another one.

“Oh, Anthony…” she moaned, breathless and panting as he trailed kisses along her jaw before moving to her neck, his lips brushing against it, pressing kisses down the slope of her neck until he reached her collarbone and he settled on a spot, biting on it. He nipped, he sucked, she moaned, she whimpered.

His hands didn’t stop moving either, continuing their ministrations on her breasts, rubbing her nipples, squeezing her breasts slightly, earning another moan from her, her grip on his hair tightening, her hips continuing to grind against his, matching his thrusts. They were completely in sync, their bodies completely familiar to the other. It was like they knew what the other was thinking, what the other needed. I burn for you. I desire you. I want you. It’s never been so good… Only you.

He kissed, he licked, she sighed, she groaned.

Her hands were in his hair, tugging on it, fingers threading through it before drifting down, hands roaming over his back, nails digging into his skin. His hands were cupping her breasts, rubbing her nipples, making her moan and whimper, and God, his ministrations on her breasts made her weak, dizzy with pleasure.

It’s fast and urgent and filled with need, and slow and loving all at once, each touch filled with a thousand affirmations, a thousand unsaid I love you’s, a thousand whispers of need.

One of his hands removed from her breasts, and he reached for hers, his fingers tangling with hers as he pressed it against the desk, as his thrusts became faster and faster, more urgent, and she knew he was close and so was she, and she didn’t mind.

Their lips connected briefly, another passionate and demanding kiss, all teeth and tongue, and she was sure her lips were going to be swollen afterwards, but she didn’t care. In this moment, with her husband, copulating on his study desk, she didn’t care.

He broke the kiss once more, “I’m so close… Kate… are you?”

She moaned, “so close, Anthony… I-”

He cut her off with another searing kiss, and his palm pressed harder against hers, his fingers tightening through hers, and she felt herself tightening, too. Anthony pulled away from her again, breaking the kiss, though his lips remained mere inches from hers. She bumped her nose against his and arched her back as he thrust again, harder this time, and she felt herself reach pinnacle, moaning his name as she held onto him. Then, he went utterly still and let out a loud groan before collapsing onto her, and she felt herself relax, too, slumping beneath him.

He rolled off her slightly, but still wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.

“You are so perfect,” he muttered, breathlessly, and she blushed. He pressed his lips to her temple. “You.” Kiss. “Are.” Another kiss. “So.” Another kiss. “Bloody.” Kiss. “Perfect.”

She reached for him, cupping his cheek, tugging him towards her so she could look at him, and their gazes met once more.

“So are you. We fit perfectly, dear husband,” she murmured, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I know I have been a little crazy the past few weeks with the family dinner and all,” she admitted, biting her lip slightly.

“I know,” he nodded. “But, you have nothing to worry about, Lady Bridgerton,” he told her, pressing his lips to her forehead, and she relaxed in his arms. “You are the perfect viscountess, Kate. The right viscountess. For me. And, my family knows that. You have nothing to worry about,” he added.

She smiled, “thank you. I love you, Anthony.”

“I love you, too,” he told her, his voice firm, certain. His brow creased again, slightly, and she brushed her finger against it, smoothing it.

“Is everything okay?” she asked softly because he only got that crease when something wasn’t okay, when he was worried, or concerned, or angry, or anything but content.

“Yes,” he nodded, his lips curving into a smile. “But, we should probably go and finish getting ready. We do not want to be late, do we, Lady Bridgerton?”

She grinned, “of course,” she muttered before she lifted her head slightly and brushed her lips against his forehead, right where that crease formed. “Now, quit worrying, Lord Bridgerton,” she added as he stood up and pulled up his breeches, buttoning them before grabbing his discarded shirt and waistcoat.

They helped each other get ready, Anthony lacing her corset as she tied his cravat before he helped button her dress as well.

“I should go upstairs and attempt to salvage my hair,” she sighed once they were both ready.

“You do have time,” he told her, checking his watch.

“Anthony?” she prompted, because she hadn’t forgotten why exactly she’d come to his study.

“Yes?”

“Give me my cap, please,” she gave him a pointed look.

Anthony sighed and opened one of the drawers of her desk, revealing the yellow cap.

“Don’t wear it,” he said softly as he handed it to her. “And, don’t put your hair up.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, “why?”

He came to stand closer to her and gently played with her hair, running his fingers through her curls. “Because your hair is beautiful, and I don’t want you to hide it. Especially here,” he said, his voice husky.

Kate’s lips curved into a delighted smile. “Very well,” she murmured with a sigh.

She did, indeed, pull it into a half-up twist, choosing to use one of her flower pins to adorn it, and when she caught her husband’s gaze, he gave her an appreciative smile. And, she couldn’t help but wink at him.

#katexanthonyweek #katexanthonyweek2021 #kate sheffield x anthony bridgerton #kate sharma x anthony bridgerton #kathony #smut #fanfiction #Bridgerton

54 notes · View notes

leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

New Year’s Kiss

masterlist

pairing - james potter x sirius's sister,fem!reader

type - fluff

summary - you and your younger brother, sirius, stay at the potter’s for new year’s

warning - alcohol, language

————

*gif isn't mine*

“Honey, we're home!” You sang aloud. Sirius rolled your eyes at your dramatics, pushing past you with your guys’s luggage. You glared at him, following him into the house. “Hey, guys!” James smiled and came out from the kitchen.

“Hi, Prongs,” Sirius set down your suitcases and went over to hug his best friend.

“Where’s my hug?” You pouted. James let go of Sirius and went over to you. You gave him a bright smile and hugged him tight.

You stayed there for as long as you could, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you. You set your chin on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. You pulled away, standing back and looking at him. He had a full head of raven hair, perfect pink lips, and a big smile on his face. He was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

“Enough of the ogling, please. I’m about to vomit,” Sirius said.

You and James blushed, averting your eyes away from each other.

“C’mon, baby bro, it’s not like you don’t stare at Marlene like that,” you teased.

Now it was Sirius’s time to blush. “Bugger off.”

You and James chuckled at Sirius.

“You do that to Lily,” Sirius said to James.

You smile turned to a frown immediately. “Prick.”

You walked away from your brother and James, slumping down on the couch. James glared at Sirius.

“Seriously? You know I don't like Lily anymore,” James whispered to Sirius.

”What about me?”

You turned to the living room, surprised to see Lily coming out from the kitchen.

”I-hey, how long have you been here?” You asked.

”Just for half an hour,” she smiled and came over. “How have you guys been?”

“Um, good,” you said, averting your eyes from her.

Sirius noticed the tension in the room and put on a light smile. “James, mate, do we have any booze?”

“Yeah, we should,” James said and moved past you, brushing his hand purposely on yours. It earned him a smile, to which he returned.

“Where’s Moony?” Sirius asked. “Should be here soon,” James said from the kitchen.

“Oh, I’ve missed Remus! I can’t wait to see him!” Lily exclaimed and clapped her hands excitedly.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

Sirius put a hand on your shoulder. “Y/n! Why don’t we unpack out things, huh?”

You looked him, thankful he was pulling you away from Lily. Between the two of you, and Remus, you could not stand Lily. It was mostly because James has been pining over her ever since he first saw her. At first, you didn’t care. To you, James was your little brother’s friend. But when you were in 5th year and James was in 4th year, you and James had started to hang out more. WIth your family shutting out Sirius, you had, on multiple occasions, dropped Sirius off at the Potter’s. You knew Sirius needed some space from your family, so you were more than happy to get him to wherever he needed to be. It also gave you a chance to get close with James and Remus, which led to you quickly becoming their friends, but also fancying James.

"Thank you for that,” you said once you and Sirius got upstairs into the guest bedroom.

“No problem. I know you don't like her very much,” Sirius said.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “I thought James and I would have some alone time. Guess not.”

You and Sirius had gone to the Potter’s for New Years. Sirius and you were anticipating the stay. Especially since your household was your own personal hell, and well, you were excited to see James.

It wasn't a secret that you had fancied him for the last two years (well, it was a secret to James, since he was an oblivious idiot). Problem was, you weren’t sure if he liked you. You thought he did, since he had rejected Lily’s attempts to kiss him for the past two years. But now, since she had been at his house alone, you seriously doubted that.

But, he seemed to have feelings for you, too, but he never made an effort to do anything about them. You two always danced on the edge of it. Almost kissing, the extra touches and hugs. Hell, even Remus noticed and he was usually oblivious to such things, but James just never seemed to get the hint, no matter how many you gave him.

“I hope you know I was just kidding,” Sirius said, reminding you of his comment about James and Lily.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, giving him a forgiving smile.

“Are you ready to go back downstairs?” Sirius asked.

“I guess,” you sighed. You two walked slowly downstairs, seeing Remus in the living room, talking with Lily.

“Moony! Finally you’re here!” Sirius said and came over to him.

Remus turned around and smiled widely at you and Sirius.

“Hi, guys. Hey, Y/n,” Remus smiled at you. “Hey, Remmy,” you went over to him and gave him a big hug.

“What took ya so long?” You pulled back from the hug, settling your hand on your hip.

“Mum got up late,” Remus explained.

“Well, now we got the whole gang here!” James smiled and looked at all of you, his eyes lingering on you for a few moments. It made you blush, and you noticed Lily glaring at you beside you, which made you smirk.

“Aren’t you inviting more people? Like your Quidditch teammates?” You asked.

“Yeah, but I’m happy to have a few moments with just us,” James smiled at you.

You returned the smile.

“My new boyfriend is coming,” Lily said.

You looked to her, raising your eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yep! Bill Woods, from Transfiguration,” Lily said.

You looked at James, who looked un-phased. Just then, your heart had a little faith that you two could maybe be an item.

“How fun,” Remus said, smiling at her.

“People are going to be coming soon, so help me set up, yeah?” James asked, keeping his eyes on you.

You all nodded, following James to the kitchen. You all got out the snacks, soda, and beer. You set it all out on the kitchen table, turning on some music to jam out to before people going here.

Soon, a few of James and Sirius’s Quidditch mates arrived. They brought people, who brought other people, which made the house pretty full and cramped.

You greeted people with a wave as you walked passed them, trying to find where Remus, Sirius, and James were. You managed to knock into someone.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” You exclaimed.

“Oh, no, you’re fine!”

You looked up to see no one other than Lily Evans. You turned your head to roll your eyes and sigh, looking back at her and painting on a smile.

“Oh, hey, Lily.”

“Hey, Y/n! Great party, right?” She smiled.

“Yeah! James really knows how to plan,” you chuckled.

“James said you did all the planning?”

You furrowed your brows. “Well, I-I did, but it is his house and stuff.”

“Ah, I see, well it’s still a great party!” Lily reached over to give you a hug.

“Oh!” You yelped in surprise, but hugged her back nonetheless. “Thank you! And you’re welcome! You are one of James’s friends after all!”

Lily pulled back and chuckled, “Yes, true! Well, I’ll talk to you later. I have to go and find Marlene. Make sure she’s not wasted and screwing Sirius.”

You laughed a little, “Have fun!”

Lily gave you a wave and walked off. You sighed loudly. Seeing the girl that your long-time crush supposedly used to like for a whole day was never easy. Especially not since you had 2 1/2 bottles of beer in you, and you were an emotional drunk.

You walked through the dancing crowd, getting nudged by people every so often. You had finally found Remus, who was talking with Bill, who happened to be Lily’s date. “Hey, Bill!” You smiled.

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Bill turned his attention to you.

“How are you?” You asked.

“Good, you?”

“I’m fine! Having fun with Remus?” You turned your attetion to your friend.

“Yep,” Remus smiled.

“Weren’t you with Lily?” You asked Bill.

“Yeah, but she’s run off. I assume to find James. We all know that she likes James,” Bill said, looking longingly at his beer.

You sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a catch, Bill. Lily is a bimbo. Excuse my language.”

Bill smiled up at you. “Thanks, Y/n,”

“Mhm,” you hummed, then turned to Remus. “Do you happen to know where James and my little brother are?”

“I think I saw Sirius with Marlene in the living room, and I don’t know where James is. My best guess is the keg stand,” Remus said.

You nodded. “Thanks, Rem.” You turned back to Bill. “It was nice seeing you, Bill.”

“You, too, Y/n,” Bill smiled.

You went to the kitchen, trying to see if you could find him, but there was no sign of him. You swear you saw him like, 5 minutes ago. You groaned and checked your watch. 11:50 PM.

Your eyes widened as you realize it was already 10 minutes until midnight. You rushed out of the kitchen, racing to find James. Before it turned 12:01, you wanted to give James a New Year’s kiss, before it was too late.

After searching the whole downstairs again, you decided it was time to try the upstairs. You checked each room, growing more frustrated.

“Where the hell is he?!” You exclaimed to yourself.

You finally went into the last bedroom, which was conveniently James’s. You burst through the door, your eyes going wide and your throat going dry. You saw Lily and James, pressed up against each other. You saw that his hands were on her shoulders, their lips almost touching.

“You having to be fucking kidding me right now. Seriously!” You exclaimed.

James pushed Lily off of him gently, but enough to get away with her. “Y/n, wait!” You scoffed, turning away and running down the stairs. You checked your watch. 11:57 PM. This was the worst way to end the year.

“Y/n!” James yelled while running behind you. You went into the living room, getting lost in the sea of people.

Tears started to spring into your eyes as the picture of Lily and James replayed in your head. As you were walking away, a hand caught your wrist. You got spun around and was met with James’s face.

“Let go of me!” You shouted.

“No, Y/n, I need to explain!” James exclaimed. “Explain what! Because it seems pretty clear that you and Lily were about to kiss,” you scoffed.

James look into your eyes. “No, no! I don’t like her. Not anymore! She was trying to kiss me. She’s off her rocker, I swear.”

“Cut the shit, James. We all know that you have been in love with her since you first mer her! I don’t blame you, though. She’s from a great family, she’s gorgeous, funny, kind,” you said.

“So are you! I swear, Y/n. I don't like her!” James pleaded with you. He took your hands in his, pulling you close.

“Do you like someone else then? Because I’m trying to send you hints all the time, but you never seem to pick up on them!” You said, your voice cracking.

In the background, the countdown to New Years started.

“You, Y/n, I like you. I know you’ve been sending me hints, I’ve just been waiting for the right time. I’m sorry for making you wait so long,” James said.

You stared at him, mouth wide open. “Y-You like me?”

“Yes! For two years. Since I was in 4th and you are in 5th year.” 8

Your face lit up, a wide smile appearing on your face. “I’ve liked you since 5th year, too.”

James smiled. “Can I, uh, kiss you?”

You giggled and nodded. As the few last seconds of the countdown sounded, James put his lips to yours.

Sparks flew between you two as you kissed him back for the first time. Your hands pulled him closer, needy. Your hands went up to his hair, running your hands through his soft locks. James’s hands went on the small of your back, respectfully pressing his hands against you. You smiled into the kiss, all your doubts about you two going away.

James pulled away, looking at you with love-struck eyes.

“Blimey, took you two long enough!” Sirius exclaimed right behind you.

You and James smiled at each other, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

“What a great start to the New Year,” you said contently.

————

Like and Reblog !

taglist form

@kaitieskidmore1

#james potter imagines #james potter x reader #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #marauders era #james potter #young james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #lily evans #harry potter #harry potter imagine

213 notes · View notes

sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Under the Moon

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: I’ve been in a mood recently.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I actually put forth a decent effort this time to make it as gender-neutral as possible. It’s probably not perfect but I tried.

^^^^^

A twinge in the muscles of my back jarred me from my sleep.

$#!+ did I forget again? I thought. Another spasm arched me off my mat. I fumbled through my bag for my phone. No service. Of course not. With shaking fingers, somehow I managed to unlock it. Moon Tracker was waiting for me on my home page. It launched and actually loaded, despite the lack of service.

Tonight’s Moon: Full read the screen.

I swore aloud. MJ didn’t wake.

Scrambling out of the tent, I stumbled through the dark to the tent next to ours. “Peter!” I hissed, knocking a knuckle against the tent pole. “Pete!”

I heard a groan. “What?” Peter complained.

“I need your help. I need you to come with me. Now.”

The tent he shared with Ned zipped open. Ned was curled up in a corner and clearly Peter had been sprawled out. Peter slipped out, barely managing to get into his sneakers, and zipped the tent shut behind him. “What’s goin’ on?” He yawned.

I recoiled as pain wracked through me. “We need to get away from camp—and I need you to web me to a tree,” I replied.

“What?”

“Now!”

My tone scared him into movement. He grabbed my hand and we ran from the campsite. I stumbled more than anything. My control over my own body was slipping. I moaned in pain. Peter looked back at me.

“What’s happening to your eyes?”

“No time to explain. Keep moving,” I panted.

We blindly wove through the woods until we were over a mile away. I found a sturdy tree and backed against it.

“Web me here,” I said. “Just cover me.”

“Why?”

I looked up. The moon was starting to peek above the hills, casting its light through the woods. “Just do it!” I cried out—stifling the sound as much as I could—and slammed into the tree. “Now!”

Peter’s webshooters activated and he spewed webs at me. I gave him a small smile.

Then I thrashed in pain—

And everything went black.

—

Peter stared as his friend’s body began to change. Claws broke through fingers. Fangs replaced teeth. A snout elongated from the face. Thick, brown-and-black hair sprouted. Pajamas started to disappear under the hair.

Until, instead of a human, Peter was staring at a wolf.

An enormous wolf. Easily twice the size of a regular wolf—and he’d found out that wolves were twice as big as he’d thought not too long ago—and covered in grey fur. The beast’s paws were wide and ended in long dark claws sharp enough to tear flesh like cotton candy. Thankfully they were positioned too awkwardly to reach the webs holding it.

“Gah! What the he—” He cut himself off as the wolf snarled at him, writhing against the webs. He applied another layer just to be safe. “Since—since—since when could you do—” The moonlight shone brighter, catching his attention. He peered up.

The moon was a massive disc—full and shining silver-white down against the tree trunk.

The wolf in front of him seemed transfixed by it, staring up with a melancholy whine softly escaping its throat. It tried again to escape the webs, but only half-heartedly.

Peter whooshed out a breath as realization struck him like a blow from the Hulk. “You’re a werewolf,” he whispered.

The wolf whimpered and then growled. Peter stepped back.

“I’m not sleeping tonight, am I?” He asked.

The wolf didn’t reply.

Which was probably a good thing, because if it did he probably would have screamed loud enough to wake up their friends over a mile away—and every big nasty in the forest. And he doubted his werewolf friend would protect him.

The wolf’s amber eyes were watching him suspiciously. But Peter just sat down and yawned again. “You and I have known each other for like ten years now. You’re in on my secret. Why didn’t you ever tell me yours?” He stared at the wolf, who was still seething at being trapped, but not fighting against the webs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Again, the wolf made no reply. Just turned those amber eyes up to the moon. Peter looked up at it too. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. Especially on nights like tonight. When there aren’t any clouds.”

The wolf whined like a puppy—and Peter had to remind himself to not tear off the webs to cuddle into that thick, soft-looking fur. That werewolves probably didn’t have any human memories when they were in their wolf form. He leaned back on his hands. “You’re probably not gonna remember this, so I may as well tell you: I’ve actually had a crush on you since like seventh grade. I know we’ve been friends for longer than that but…” He shrugged. The wolf kept staring at the moon. “I don’t know. Something changed that year. I saw you in the gym with the ballroom dance club, teaching some poor dude how to waltz when I stayed late for robotics, and it was like this… like a lightbulb went off in my head. You know? Suddenly it was like I was really seeing you for the first time. Like I caught a glimpse of the best pieces of your soul.

“And I’ve never been the same since. Never looked at you the same way. I notice the grace you use when you move. Even if you’re clumsy sometimes. But I see your compassion too. Your care. Like once I started looking, I couldn’t stop.”

The wolf didn’t even react to him at all.

Peter sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on you tonight. I promise. You won’t be able to get out or hurt anything. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

—

I came to under the pale orange light of dawn. The last dregs of dissolving web fluid clung to my pajamas. I felt drained. Like I always did the morning after a full moon.

“Hey, you’re up!” Peter said happily. I turned. He was sitting on the forest floor a few feet away, using a Bunsen burner camping “stove” to heat a small pot of water. Two paper cups were sitting near him, plastic spoons poking out of the top. I slumped against the tree trunk. “I’m making some cocoa. Want some?”

I watched him pour the water in the cups, adding packets of cocoa mix and stirring carefully. I didn’t have the energy to actually reply.

He handed me one of the cups. “This should warm you up. It’s a little chilly.”

“Did you get any sleep?” I croaked.

“I did, actually. See, the thing is, my webs dissolve in two hours. On average, it takes fourteen minutes for a person to fall asleep, and a single sleep cycle is ninety minutes—hour and a half. So I used my webshooters to set timers. An almost-two-hour one to know when to replace the webs around you, and another to wake me up roughly an hour and forty-four minutes after I set it. So I slept between replacing your webs and I actually feel alright. Probably better than you anyway.”

I grunted agreement at that. I felt like I’d been trampled by a herd of elephants.

I tried a sip of the cocoa. Not too hot, but enough to warm my core. I sighed, content with the taste and warmth.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Peter asked quietly. I met his eyes. He had the expression of a sad puppy on his face.

I huffed a little, stirring my cocoa. “My secret isn’t like yours, Peter,” I said. “You keep your secret to keep the people you care about safe. I do too, but mine—mine is different. You’re keeping the people you love safe from villains who want to hurt you by hurting them. I’m keeping the people I care about safe from me. Because I’m… we’re classified as monsters, Peter. Werewolves, vampires—we’re referred to as monsters the same way humans are mammals. I never told you because what I can do… it’s worse than what you can do. You’re a superhero. I’m a lycanthrope. Yours is a mutation of your DNA. Mine is literally a curse. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you looking at me like I’m…”

“A monster?” Peter finished gently.

I almost growled at the word. “Yeah,” I admitted begrudgingly, taking a sip of my cocoa. “You have no idea how hard it is for someone like me to make or keep friends. I’ve spent most of my life super lonely. Then I met you and Ned and MJ and I felt like… like finally I could have some friends. I was turned into a werewolf when I was four-years-old, Peter. Thirteen years, I’ve suffered with this alone. My parents know but they don’t talk about it. They pretend like my curse doesn’t exist. Then I make friends for the first time in my life and still know, deep down, that I’ll never belong with them. Not really. Even when you told me about you, I knew I still wasn’t like you. I never would be. So I hoped I could just be friends as long as I could with you guys and… find a way to live with it when you all eventually left me.”

I downed the rest of my cup and stood. My joints ached.

“We should go back to camp before Ned and MJ wonder where we’ve gone,” I said.

Not waiting for Peter, I headed back the way we’d come, following my own scent through the trees, several hours old now, but doubly punctuated by Peter’s as he’d gone back to get the burner and the cocoa.

He caught up to me, jogging a little. “For the record, even though you scared the pants off of me last night when I saw you turn, I don’t think you’re a monster,” he said.

I managed a small smile. “Thanks,” I replied.

“And, also, I’m not going to leave you. You’re still my friend and I’m not scared. I can lift… like, a hundred times more than my body weight. I think I can handle you as a wolf. You’re not gonna hurt me and I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s… that’s a relief to hear,” I admitted. We kept hiking back. “Do I remember you saying you’ve had a crush on me since we were in seventh grade? Or did I dream that up?”

Peter swore under his breath. A normal person wouldn’t have heard it, but I did. Wolf’s hearing. “Uh… I think you dreamt that up,” he said.

Liar. But if he wasn’t ready to tell me human-face-to-human-face, I’d give him time. He’d taken my secret better than I could have asked for or anticipated. I could let him admit his feelings whenever he was ready. I owed him that much.

When we got back to camp, MJ was sitting on a tree stump, munching on some dry cereal. “Where have you two been all night?” she asked.

#Under the Moon #Spider-Man #spider-man imagine #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #Spider Man #Spider Man Imagine #spider man fanfiction #Peter Parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #Avengers #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Use All of Me (P.10)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Ten) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,259 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death

Part Nine || Part Eleven || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“I gotta run,” Natasha informed Wanda quietly, pulling her aside.

“Is there a problem?” Wanda asked concerned.

“Not yet.”

“Okay?” Wanda said, cocking an eyebrow.

Natasha was not going to give her anything else at the moment before she talked to Steve. “It’s fine. Don’t let Y/N worry about me being gone. Help her enjoy the party.”

“Alright,” Wanda responded, and Natasha nodded, before turning on her heel and walking off quickly to make sure to be out of the house before Y/N and Natalie emerged from the bathroom.

On her way out the door to her car, Natasha texted Steve.

I’m on my way to Tony’s. Don’t leave until I get there.

Is there something wrong?

Not immediate. I’ll be there soon.

<> <> <>

Natalie pulled away from you after a while – she had to have let you cry for a good few minutes – and wiped at your tears. “Here,” she said gently, leaving you to go towards the linen cupboard. She pulled out a washcloth and grabbed a small handful of toilet paper too. You thanked her, sniffling, wiping at your tears before using the tissue to blow your nose. You were sure you looked cute with snot hanging out there.

“Look. What can you do? Realistically?” Natalie asked you quietly.

Your shoulders slumped and you whispered, “Nothing.”

“No, not nothing, Y/N. You can hold your chin up,” Natalie told you, her fingers pushing your chin up as she spoke. She paused before asking, “Are you willing to leave the babies behind?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you pondered for a few seconds. You ended up shaking your head. “I… I thought so when this first all started out. But how can I leave two babies behind? They would financially be well taken care of, yes. But… I just can’t,” you said breathing shakily. “I don’t know if I could live with myself.”

“Well, I was only asking because I wondered if you did… if you thought Steve would leave you be. Even if you ran off.”

You shook your head again, giving a humorless laugh. “No, I don’t think Steve would leave me be. Bryce said he didn’t think Steve would kill me if I ran away. Which to me insinuates he would hurt or kill anyone else who tried to help me. I am hard pressed to believe that he wouldn’t want to kill me though. He’s not a man to wound, especially emotionally. Everyone talks to me like I’m… his property. That I’m carrying his property too.”

Solemnly, Natalie told you, “Some people treat others that way. That’s obsession, not love.”

“Or they’re all just misogynistic fucks. I mean… Pepper even told me that she dealt with it with Tony! He threatened to shoot me a couple weeks ago, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” Natalie demanded, staring at you in absolute shock.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

“Y/N?” Miriam called from outside the door. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’ll be out in a second,” you called back. To Natalie, you whispered, “Shit, we have been in for a long while.”

Natalie grasped your shoulders, “You go out there. I’m going to go upstairs and pack you a bag.”

“What?” you asked flabbergasted.

“You heard me. My cousin has a cabin in New Hampshire. I’m going to take you there and then we can figure out what we are going to do next.”

“I—” you tried to argue but Natalie shushed you.

“Go out there. Be with them.”

“Natalie, I can’t,” you hissed, thinking of Wanda and Natasha out in the living room. “You just told me I didn’t have a plan! Plus, Tony’s got technology everywhere and Steve won’t let me go. Did you miss me saying he would ki—”

“If we leave during this party while everyone is distracted, Y/N, they won’t know which direction we went.”

“Your license plate—”

Natalie covered your mouth and said, “We need to stop arguing about this and just do it. I’m not going to leave here without you. It has to be now.”

She stared deep into your eyes, challenging you to argue with her. You knew you were not going to be able to convince her to drop this idea, not with the fire burning in her eyes.

When she knew you were not going to say anything more, her hand fell. You swallowed thickly and turned to the mirror, wiping at your eyes one more time. “Good thing we already took pictures,” you muttered before going to the door and throwing it open.

Miriam’s brow creased seeing Natalie in there with you but you looped arms with her before she could say anything. “Sorry, I just needed to get some stress out. Poor Natalie had to endure that.” You threw a look over your shoulder at Natalie who was slow to leave the bathroom, mouthing her a thanks.

Your heart was pounding in anticipation.

<> <> <>

Natalie waited until Miriam and Y/N were out of sight before turning and going towards the entrance hall to the stairs leading upstairs. Quietly, she made her way up the stairs and searched around the second floor, looking for their bedroom.

There was a note on a door handle she passed by and she hesitated.

Don’t open until after you open your gifts. Love you, Steve.

Curiosity got the better of her and she opened the door, thinking it was possibly their bedroom and Steve had left her something on their bed. Behind the door though laid the nursery. She swallowed sharply seeing balloons attached to the crib, no doubt a gift Steve had left in surprise for Y/N. It was oak grey, matching the dresser.

Quickly closing the door, Natalie continued on, trying to not think about the cameras that she was more than likely being filmed on right now and what Y/N had warned her about Steve’s wrath. Getting her friend to safety was more important than worrying about the what-ifs.

<> <> <>

Finding Natasha gone quelled your nausea slightly but not entirely. One less Avenger on the premises was cause for you to be more hopeful about Nataile’s rash plan working. Especially since Bryce was in the theater room, engrossed in a Michael Bay-esque film.

You grasped Yua’s arm as the group merged towards the patio where the cake was waiting and another few yard games. You asked her quietly, “You came with Natalie, right?”

“Mhm,” Yua affirmed, holding your arm back.

“When you two leave, I am going with you.”

“What?”

“Not so loud,” you whispered to her. “You just… if you don’t want to get involved, then get a ride home with Miriam. Please.”

“’Involved’? Y/N, what is going on?” Yua asked, stopping you and making you face her.

You leaned in and whispered, “I’m leaving. Natalie is taking me. She’s packing me a bag – hopefully getting herself some clothes too.” You were being vague, worrying still about the security cameras. “There is a lot of risk. Now, think about it. I need to go cut my cake and act normal.”

Without another word, you left her there, moving towards the table where the rest of the ladies were gushing over how beautiful the cake was.

<> <> <>

Steve was on Natasha as soon as she pulled up and got out of the car.

“Can we go inside?” she asked, staring up at him.

It did not seem like he wanted to wait because he rolled his eyes but stepped back and she moved around him, him on her heels.

“What happened?” Steve demanded as he followed her through the front door.

“Where’s Tony?”

“Why am I being dragged into this?” Tony drawled as she walked in from the hallway. He was on the couch in front of the flatscreen, arms sprawled along the back of the couch.

“Because it’s your man too.”

Tony was interested suddenly, sitting up straighter. Steve stood off to the side of the couch, waiting impatiently for Natasha to get to the point.

She met his eyes and asked seriously, “Has Bryce talked to you? About Y/N asking him for help to leave?”

Steve’s face pinched. “No,” he said sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh boy,” Tony breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I heard her. Talking to her friend, Natalie, in the bathroom. I was outside and doing some rounds to get some air. Thought it was a little weird they were both in the bathroom. So, I got near the bushes and heard them talking about it. Y/N was going on about how she feels trapped—” Steve’s jaw clenched at this, not going unnoticed by Natasha. But she kept speaking anyway. “And how she wants it to work with you but doesn’t think you’ll ever let her breathe and have her own space. Said she knows Natalie warned her about you, but you were too sweet, and she didn’t care about the warning.”

Steve scoffed, hands coming to his hips. He sucked at his teeth, shaking his head.

“So, what about Bryce?” Tony asked impatiently.

“She said she asked Bryce to help her leave Steve,” Natasha explained. “And he wouldn’t help her and made her promise she wouldn’t try to leave. But it sounded like she had another plan. Something about taking a train and stealing someone’s ticket at the station so she wouldn’t be on camera at the ticket counter – presumably so you wouldn’t know where she was going. She said something outlandish about living at a church and taking them up on hospitality and working for them to make up for it. Which, Natalie to her credit, told her that was a dumb plan. And Y/N agreed. But she wanted Natalie in the bathroom with her to use her phone, again presumably, so you couldn’t see the search in her phone.” Natasha caught Steve’s eyes again and told him firmly, “When you said she was rattled when this all first started, she hasn’t settled, Steve. She’s a mess of nerves. And she definitely sounds like she’s willing to be impulsive and reckless about it.”

It was silent in the room, Steve’s fingers digging into his hips. His jaw was clenched so tightly Natasha thought of him cracking his teeth.

“That little, conniving bitch!” Steve growled, his hands falling to his sides and he began storming towards the hallway.

Natasha stepped in his path and he stopped, rearing up to glower at her, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Move, Nat,” Steve warned her in a dangerous voice.

“I came here specifically to tell you so you would not lose your shit in the middle of a party,” Natasha told Steve firmly. “So, can you do me a favor and respect that? Cool out and think?”

“I don’t think this warrants me cooling off and giving Y/N any sense of calm,” Steve returned, his voice rising. “She was going to leave me and take my children away from me, Nat!”

Tony chimed in from behind Steve, “I think the problem here is Bryce not telling you,” Steve craned his head to look back at him. Tony looked right pissed off, rivaling Steve. “Woman is hormonal, standing on shaky ground emotionally. Bryce has his head on right – or at least we thought he did. Him agreeing to not help her is working in his favor but he shouldn’t keep that shit to himself. He should have told you the moment it happened. Just making her promise to not do something isn’t going to do shit, especially if she’s promising him. What is he to her? Her bodyguard? Whoopee fucking doo.” Tony shook his head. “No, that’s fucked up. He had a duty to tell you.”

Steve’s cell phone rang interrupting the conversation, and he swore under his breath, pulling it out of his back pocket. He furrowed down at it before answering tightly, “Wanda?”

Natasha took a step closer, trying to hear her on the other end of the phone. Steve’s face fell for a moment, like the air had gotten kicked out of him.

He recovered quickly, demanding furiously, “What the hell do you mean she’s not there?”

Tony was standing now, at attention. He was watching Steve nervously, thinking of a super soldier losing his shit and breaking shit in his house.

“How long?” Steve shouted, losing his temper. He shook his head furiously and snarled, “Twenty minutes doesn’t give them long to get anywhere. And why were you doing dishes? Where the hell was Bryce—never mind. You know what. Just stay there. Have Bryce and the security check the grounds again.”

He hung up, holding his cell in his hands tightly. Steve was trembling with rage, his hand threatening to crush his phone. Tony and Natasha were silent, waiting for him to react. He breathed in deeply, over exaggerated, turning on his heel to walk towards the counter. He placed his phone down, gingerly despite his anger. His hands planted, his fingertips digging into the counter like he wanted to tear chunks off.

“If she is not there…” he trailed off. Exhaling, he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. His hands came up behind his hand, trying to stop himself from breaking Tony’s countertop in half with his fist.

“The train stations,” Natasha suggested, keeping her voice steady.

A few more deep breaths and Steve had the calm about him to say, “Someone else needs to drive because I’ll probably rip that goddamn steering wheel off.”

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @roxyfan14-blog

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #marvel fic #dark marvel fic #my shit

114 notes · View notes

hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Bonus Chapter - Gwyn POV

So we had some technical difficulties, but here's the whole thing (copy/paste was not my friend).

Thanks for the fun @yazthebookish @daevastanner and @bookprofessor

Warm clouds of breath puffed out of Gwyn’s nose and mouth, drifting into the air – the only things obscuring the twinkling of frost-white stars.

She had been in the training ring for nearly three hours. Sleep hadn’t been an option, not even a consideration. The priestess had nearly worn her leathers under her robes to the service, knowing that the singing and celebration would open a crater so wide in her soul that she would take leave as soon as acceptable and retreat to the safety and solace of the frigid night air and sharpened steel. Gwyn scoffed, a hot bitter laugh that rose unbidden from her chest.

This night, the library was no sanctuary. It had been a stark reminder of her weakness, her failure.

Her guilt.

The only thing that had made her choose her usual camisole and leggings under her robes was the inevitable tongue-lashing she would have received from Merrill. Knowing the state she would be in, Gwyn wasn’t sure if she would burst into tears or jump to strangle the beautiful crone in a fit of rage and pain. Best not to test her luck.

She cupped her hands over her mouth and breathed into her palms before rubbing them together, willing the blood not to freeze in her fingertips before selecting a sword from the rack. She had spent extra time stretching to combat the cold air seeping into her muscles, kept in constant motion. Numbness threatened the ends of her fingers and the tip of her nose, but as a whole she was limber and warm. And so, weapon in hand, she turned to face her foe.

The ribbon.

She silently thanked the Mother for her competitiveness and hyperfixation on this goal, grateful for the distraction that it gave her from the glaring absence of her sister. The raw edges of that wound had begun healing in the two years and some months since the attack at Sangravah, but holidays always seemed to tear it wide open. This was the first time she’d had an outlet for her sorrow.

So she closed her eyes and breathed, centering herself in this moment, letting the grief fall away. All that remained was her, the sword, and the ribbon glowing silver in the moonlight.

“I am the rock against which the surf crashes,” she whispered, eyelids drifting open. “Nothing can break me.” Feeling herself balance, muscles thrumming with anticipation, she sliced the sword. And watched the ribbon wave, uncut, in the winter breeze. She groaned, but set her feet, took a breath, and swung again.

The ribbon simply glided over the blade, taunting her as it straightened. She felt a warm bubble of frustration begin to glow in her chest. Her lips tilted up in a grim smirk as she took her stance again, preparing to swipe the sword. But just as she lifted her arm the sound of boots softly hitting stone seemed to echo from the silent night behind her. The priestess spun to face…

Azriel?

Perhaps the warmth under her breastbone had not been frustration, after all.

“I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here, and –“

“It’s fine,” the shadowsinger answered coolly. “I came to retrieve something I forgot.” Gwyn regarded the shadows that were his constant companions. It almost seemed as if they were… looking at her? Was that even possible?

Perhaps the chill was seeping into her mind.

The priestess smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She lifted her arm, sword in hand, to gesture to the offending strand of silk. Hopefully the ribbon would heed the threat of the blade pointed blatantly at its length and behave.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asked. Gwyn just shrugged, in spite of her frozen nose and fingertips.

“Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

Azriel nodded in silence, and for a moment his eyes caught hers. Something flickered there, like a match struck in a hurricane. Gwyn lowered her gaze. She could only imagine what the spymaster saw when he looked at her, the memories and images that might churn behind his hazel eyes. It had been he who had found her that night – nude, bloodied, trembling. Is that who he saw, even now?

Is that who he would always see?

“Happy Solstice,” she offered, an attempt to break the silence and to interrupt the path of her own rumination.

“Are you kicking me out?” Azriel snorted. Her eyes widened, gaze flashing back up to him.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just… I know you like to be alone.” Mother above, Gwyneth. Could you sound any more like a rambling fool? She let herself grin at him, and her own panicked musings. “Is that why you came up here?”

“I forgot something,” he reminded her.

The priestess fixed him with a skeptical eye. “At two in the morning?” She felt her grin widen with amusement, corners of her eyes crinkling.

“I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

Gwyn thanked the Mother for the ridiculousness of his words, lest she be completely unraveled by the crooked smile that he’d offered her. That smile, alone, was a gift. She knew that Azriel did not hand them out freely.

“A comfort for every growing child,” she remarked scathingly, and she swore he nearlyreleased a snicker. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did sleep with a dagger, or four. Actually, now that he mentioned it, she had absolutely no doubt that he did. Maybe he clutched one close to his chest, cuddling it like a teddy bear. “How was the party?”

One of his shadows broke away from him and twirled with the fog that her question had puffed into the air. Like a little dancing duet. She wondered what had prompted the shadow’s bravery.

“Fine.”

The shadowsinger definitely left some things to be desired as far as conversation went.

As if he realized that very thing, he tried again. “It was nice.” And that wasn’t much better. “Did you and the priestesses have a celebration?”

“Yes.” Though she couldn’t really call what she had done ‘celebrating’. “Though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.”

Again. His gift for words was astounding. But Gwyn took it as a challenge, to see just how far she could draw him out from behind the indifferent mask of the spymaster. So she tilted her head at him.

“Do you sing?”

Azriel blinked at her in surprise and she felt a small twinge of satisfaction in her chest. “Why do you ask?”

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I ama shadowsinger,” he corrected. “It’s not a title that someone just made up.”

Gwyn shrugged at him. Semantics, and beside the point. “Do you, though? Sing?”

“Yes,” he chuckled.

Oh, this was quite the development, and she had so many more questions! What was his favorite song? What kind of music did he prefer? The priestess wondered what his voice would sound like, if it would be just as velvety and smooth as it was when he spoke. She took a breath to ask if she could hear –

“Try cutting the ribbon again.” The abrupt redirection of the conversation was as clear a signal as there could be.

Another time, then.

“What – with you watching?” The shadowsinger nodded, and Gwyn felt her skin prickle with nervous anticipation. Which was silly. Azriel was present daily at training, and he had worked with her privately on multiple occasions. Maybe it was the holiday. Maybe it was the winter chill. Maybe it was her shattered heart, broken but healing, and the emptiness Catrin had left behind. Maybe it was the desperate hope that he saw more in her than the broken, bleeding girl he’d found in the temple two years ago. But that wholly undivided attention on her, in that moment, sparked something inside of her. So she took a breath, found her footing, and swung.

It was all she could do not to throw her head back and groan and the still-intact ribbon, gently swaying, taunting her under the stars.

“Again.”

Gwyn delivered another blow. She knew her technique was good – she was the definition of determined, a perfectionist. And yet…

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground.” Azriel pulled the Illyrian blade from the scabbard between his wings, shadows content to observe. The priestess also watched intently, determined to correct even the slightest error. She wanted to be the first to cut the ribbon. “Watch.”

He moved his arm slowly, mimicking her movements and rotating his wrist the same way that she had. The siphon on his hand seemed to glow in the moonlight, and she found her gaze sliding between his wrist and the pale scars that covered his fingers. It was far from the first time she had noticed them, but that didn’t keep her from wanting to know what had happened to cause them. But she had also noticed that he seemed to hide his hands as often as possible. Gwyn was not known for thinking before she spoke, but she knew that this particular conversation would come on Azriel’s terms. “You see how you open up right here?” He then shifted his wrist, correcting himself. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

Gwyn mirrored the movement, slow and controlled, biting her bottom lip as she worked to correct her wrist position as her arm moved through the air. It took three times before she could do it without the error. “I blame Cassian for this,” she huffed. “He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you.” She practically beamed at him, the dual achievement of correcting her swing and making the shadowsinger laugh lighting her veins with pride.

And then he dipped his head and shoulders, almost a bow. His goodbye.

“Happy Solstice,” he said before turning to head into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn nodded before turning herself back to face the ribbon. She was eager to try to slice through it, after the impromptu lesson. But as she breathed in, a bone-deep weariness slumped her shoulders. Where earlier she had known that sleep would be an impossibility, now she felt calm. Almost at peace, the jagged wounds around her heart softened and comforted. The forced exhaustion and focus of training would have had something to do with that, of course. That had been her plan.

But she couldn’t help but wonder if the easy banter, the soft chuckles, and that crooked grin had been a balm to her soul, as well.

He hadn’t retrieved his ‘favorite dagger’. Hadn’t retrieved anything at all. But whatever it was that Azriel had intended to do in the training ring that night, their conversation and lesson had seemed enough for him to leave the ring calm and content – as far as she could discern. He had smiled. He had laughed.

She put the sword back in the rack, determined to remember what Azriel had taught her the next time she was in the ring. Looking up at the stars, she blew into her cupped hands and rubbed them together, encouraging warmth back into her frozen fingertips.

“Happy Solstice, Catrin,” she whispered, sending the cloud of her breath as a messenger into the heavens.

Her legs were heavy and barely able to carry her back to the dormitory, into her bed. She didn’t bother to remove the leathers, even though she knew she would regret it in the morning. All she could think about was sleep. And the sweet lullaby in her soul, a deep rich voice glowing blue and gold, swathing her in comfort and peace and hope.

#gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel week #gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel fic

31 notes · View notes

scaredyships · 3 years

Text

Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. III

summary: Mando picks out the planet Sorgan for the three of you to lie low on. Things get complicated, Reader gets a glimpse of how hectic Mando's life can be as a bounty for hire, and everybody is confused about feelings.

word count: 14.5k (...help)

author’s notes: Good LORD I was stuck on this for way too long. Between my creative focus being elsewhere and just being completely stuck as to how I wanted some scenes to play out, it took a lot for me to do more than a sentence or two at a time and then forget about it for days or weeks at a time.

This was also hard to write bc I am very uhhh put off by Omera and her original role as the possible love interest and I was trying very hard to remain believable/respectful about her. Cara Dune was also hard to write because of certain actions by her actor, so she's got a little bit of a lesser role.

I'm saying this now, with future chapters I am not going to be going episode-by-episode like I originally intended. I might jump around and have some "filler" things, I may completely skip over some episode happenings, I may diverge from canon here and there, but generally the outcomes will be the same as the show. I cut out the actual battle of Sorgan too bc this is already too long and I am terrible at writing action scenes. :v

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (you are here) // ao3 link

---

It had been a couple days since you’d set yourself up a space in the hold. At least, it felt like a couple days. You weren’t accustomed to space travel and dealing with the lack of solar cycles to indicate the passage of time, so it was difficult to tell exactly. It didn’t really matter, in the end, but it was still a little annoying.

In that time, you spent most of your time getting to know your way around the Razor Crest’s small layout, what panels and buttons did what, and making sure the child on board was cared for and didn’t get into anything he shouldn’t. Easier said than done, as that kid was surprisingly sneaky and far too curious. He seemed well-behaved, right up until you weren’t looking, and the next thing you knew he was doing something like rooting around in a pile of netting and getting hopelessly tangled, or trying to put things in his mouth to teethe on.

Right now, the kid was up in the cockpit with Mando. Even though you were on board to help out, Mando still seemed to feel better when he was in the same room as the kid versus you being the one supervising, and to be honest it was nice to have a break from babysitting. You had never wanted kids of your own to begin with, and though this kid wasn’t exactly your standard child, it reinforced that at the end of the day, the factor of being able to give the child back to their actual caregiver played a large role in just how tolerant you were of them.

The entire ship suddenly jerked to the side and sent you crashing into the hull wall, your shins narrowly avoiding smashing against the edge of one of the crates lying around. To say you were shaken was a bit of an understatement, despite not a moment later, the normal smooth flight pattern returning and the ship righting itself. Did Mando hit something? Was some part of the ship on the verge of breaking down completely? You did a quick sweep to make sure none of the weapons lockers were damaged and that nothing was in danger of going ogg. You swore, this man had far too much firepower on board and one day it was going to come back and bite him.

Fortunately, everything was where it should be and the only things really out of place was your now-askew space, and your frazzled self. Huffing, you sped over to the ladder and clambered up to the cockpit to see if you could find out what was going on. On your way up, you could hear the low, modulated voice of Mando speaking, very likely to the child with the tone you could pick up.

“Ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple months, you little womp rat? Nobody’s gonna find us there.”

“Nobody’s gonna find us where?” Your head and shoulders were poking out of the ladder hatch, arms folding over the edge as you gave the pair a pointed look. You weren’t about to let Mando decide where you were going to camp out for months without you giving some input.

The Mandalorian turning to face you with the child in his lap was almost comical, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t expecting to be called out on. You didn’t see any sign of concern over whatever had shaken you down below, so you figured you could bring that up later.

You could see a holomap beyond Mando, though it was too far for you to make out any of the text on it. You dragged yourself the rest of the way into the cockpit, righting yourself and coming to a halt just far enough that you could read the screen.

“An outer rim planet.” He leaned aside and let you read the screen’s details. Sorgan, huh. You vaguely remember that name from when you were compiling planets for Mando back when this whole mess started. The details past that escaped you, though. You squinted as you read on. No populations outside of small settlements to speak of, no starports or anything industrial… and it was one of those planets made up of a single biome - swamp.

To be honest, you weren’t thrilled at the idea of actually camping out for so long in such a place. You were so accustomed to being in places that had somewhat larger settlements, and absolutely more tech than this planet likely had, not just for business but simple things like staying entertained. But you were even less thrilled at the fact that this was a swamp planet. You knew not all swamp planets were the same, but the simple holomap readout didn’t indicate any further details about what kind of swamps it was made up of.

You hope above all things it’s not a bog planet like Nal Hutta. Gaseous atmosphere, skies choked by sickly green clouds, brown water, hardly any land to speak of.

You turned and gave Mando a look. “No information about the biome past ‘swamp’?”

He shook his head in that slow, deliberate way of his. You exhaled through your nose.

“Not a fan of swamps?”

“You could say that.” You turned back to the screen, like staring at it might make it give up more information. Maker , you missed your database.

“How far away are we?”

“Not very, maybe an hour or two.”

You stepped back and fell unceremoniously into one of the passenger seats further back in the cockpit. The child, who had been watching you through this whole exchange, seemed to lose his interest once you sat down and went back to looking curiously around at the controls laid out in front of Mando. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head, and you started to suspect he had something to do with the ship going sideways earlier. Probably got a hold of the controls somehow.

“I guess I’ll have a better idea of where we’re going once we get a look at the planet.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and turned back to the controls to pilot you all there.

You had been closer than you anticipated, though it was still not a very short journey. Instead of going back down to the hull, you opted to stay in the passenger seat and simply wait. Jumping to hyperspace was something you had yet to get used to, but after so long of the smooth traveling with the smears of light streaking past the windscreens, you found you could relax a little and rest your eyes.

A jolt in the ship as you exited hyperspace shook you awake. Blinking and sitting up in your chair, you peered out the window at the planet taking up the view.

Deep green. Streaks of blue. White cloud cover. You breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the chair back.

“Acceptable?” There was a hint of amusement in Mando’s voice. You smirked at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine with it.” You actually were looking forward a little to seeing just what kind of plant life was on this planet. You could see a fair amount of tree coverage, which meant forests. It had been far too long since you’d seen proper forests, let alone been out in one. You had tried to replicate it with your plant corner back home, but it was never the same. Some time amongst real trees would do you good.

The descent had you watching out the window the whole time, surveying the landscape as its features came into view. It had its marshes and rivers, but equal amounts of coniferous forests and solid land. This place could almost pass for an arboreal biome planet in places. You spotted very few settlements on the way in, too, and what you did see looked to be the most basic of small villages.

Mando landed the Razor Crest some ways away from a small market, hidden amongst ample tree coverage. He locked down the controls and lifted the kid with one arm, removing a small silver ball from his clutches to attach to one of the levers in the array.

“I’m going to go out and find us some lodging. Wait here with the kid. Don’t let him touch anything. I’ll be back.”

He passed the child off to you, with such surety that you’d take him that he nearly dropped the little one on you before you could respond. You grabbed him with both hands in a slight panic, thinking he was about to fall, and in doing so your fingers gripped into the gloved ones already supporting his weight. Even with the barrier between skin-to-skin contact, it was awkward and had your face heating with embarrassment that you’d accidentally touched the bounty hunter. He, however, made no indication of any such reaction, damn that helmet making him unreadable. His hands withdrew once it was certain the child was in your grasp safely.

You and the child stared at each other as you held him out before you, like you weren’t sure what to do with him now. He looked back at you with a similar expression, and you swore there was a hint of some sort of mischief underneath it. Oh, he had definitely been the one to make the ship go off-kilter, no doubt now. And knowing your luck, he was going to do more of the same once Mando left. You’d already experienced him trying to eat trash despite you actively watching him, you knew he was capable of more.

Mando descended the ladder into the hold, and the sound of the ramp opening up reached the cockpit. You looked out the windscreen, watching as the Mandalorian appeared in your field of view just as the sound of the ramp closing itself back up sounded.

And that was all it took.

The child turned into a complete nightmare the instant it was clear Mando was gone. It didn’t matter what you did - first he fussed and squirmed to be let down, so you did, and the second you turned your head he had somehow managed to get into the pilot’s seat and was attempting to mess with the controls. Every time you picked him up, he fussed again, wriggling and whining loudly, and whenever you set him back down he went straight for whatever he knew he could get in trouble for. You tried to keep this up as long as you could, which proved to be a pathetic five minutes or so. It was like having an extra-smart, extra-naughty loth cat with thumbs on board.

“Okay, kid. We’re going down to the hold. You can’t accidentally start the ship up down there.” You snatched the kid up under his armpits, and though he continued fussing, it was much less, like perhaps he wanted to be in the hold. You knew that the hold had just as much, if not more, for him to get into trouble with, what with the armory down there, but it was better than possibly starting up the engines and taking off.

You awkwardly climbed down the ladder with one arm latched around the child, and once you reached the floor you set him down, hoping he’d behave a little more. How wrong you were. It was like the kid instinctively knew where the controls for the ramp were, because he made a beeline for that panel - knocking whatever he could out of the way just to accentuate his point - and reached his-far-too-short arms into the air like he could possibly reach it if he just tried hard enough. No amount of you trying to redirect his attention or picking him up to set him down elsewhere worked, he would cry and go straight back to the panel and give you repeated looks with big, desperate eyes, like you were a monster for not understanding he wanted to open the door.

“Mando told us to stay here. So we’re going to stay here until he gets back.”

It was when the loud crying started that you knew you had lost the battle.

That alone was one of your top reasons for not desiring children - you couldn’t handle the noise that came with an upset child. Not for any good parental reason like not wanting to see them sad. You genuinely couldn’t stand the screaming, it set you on edge and made you want to scream in turn. And here one was, cries bouncing off the hull walls and drilling into your eardrums with far more force than you could have imagined possible for something so small.

You rushed as fast as you could towards the control panel and slammed the button to open the ramp.

“OKAY! Okay, okay, you win, we’ll go find him.” You glared down at the kid, whose clear face and perked ears indicated the crying had all been an act. You sighed heavily. He’d only known you for maybe a few days and he already knew how to get you to do what he wanted.

“He’s not going to be happy, you know that, right.” The child just tilted his head at you, smug little face seeming to say “no, he can’t get mad at me”.

You wandered back to your area not too far off to get some of your outerwear on - your belt, your ear piece, your blaster, whatever you might need in the immediate future. The neck gaiter you loosely wore got pulled up to securely cover the lower half of your face - it made you feel more secure, somehow, when you were venturing out into strange places. You picked the kid up and awkwardly shifted him to one arm, making your way down the ramp, and hoping you wouldn’t get into too much trouble with the bounty hunter. The kid, meanwhile, happily burbled in your grasp.

With a deep sigh and a roll of your eyes, you marched out onto the planet’s surface in the direction you had seen Mando go.

You were right. Mando wasn’t happy at all.

He had been trudging along, lost in his thoughts about what kind of lodging he should be looking for now that there wasn’t just him, but you and a child to account for, but still attentive enough to his surroundings that when he heard what sounded like distant footsteps crunching through the undergrowth he paused.

It was when he heard the sounds of the child babbling and you calling out to him to wait that his wariness turned to mild panic, and he rushed towards where he could hear your voices, hand staying within reaching range of his blaster. What had happened? He told you to stay back at the Crest and yet here you were, with the child. Had you been discovered, and just barely escaped? Was the Razor Crest captured?

He came to a halt just a few feet from you, surveying you and the child for any signs of distress or damage, stance wary and ready for a fight.

“What happened?” His tone was terse, apprehensive.

You looked wryly down at the bright-eyed child in your grasp, and back up at the bounty hunter. Or rather, somewhere in the general vicinity of him, as you found you couldn’t look directly at him.

“He, uh. Was very upset at you leaving without him.”

Mando’s defensive posture deflated and he tilted his head in a way that you knew he was giving you a disbelieving look.

“I told you to stay put, and the kid throwing a fit is all it took for you to leave?” He didn’t miss the way your mouth tightened into a thin line and your brow furrowed.

“He wouldn’t stop trying to be destructive, and when I tried to move him he’d just scream and go for the ramp! Look, I told you I wasn’t the best out there with kids.” You snapped, glaring into the blank visor.

Honestly, he could tell you were disappointed in yourself for caving so easily, and he probably wouldn’t have fared much better with his own lack of experience with children. But you could have been followed, and now the ship was unattended. The child, however, looked content as ever, his plan having worked. He sighed. It was what it was at this point. At least he was still in range that could lock the ship up remotely with his vambrace controls, which he set to doing immediately.

“Come on, then.” He motioned with a hand as he turned back to the direction he had come from, cape swirling around his form dramatically. You exchanged a tired glance with the smug kid, having half a mind to set him down and make him walk the rest of the way to wherever you were going.

“You’re lucky you’re at least a little cute.”

By the time you get to civilization, you’d let the kid down to walk - just beside Mando, and you just behind the child. Two unlikely bodyguards for an equally unlikely “dignitary”. The towering trees thinned out on the edge of the small market center, man-made structures beginning to appear. The buildings were small, mostly made of wicker and wood, with very little in the way of tech. The people were equally simple, their dress and presentation reflecting their rural occupations.

With the interest of the child in mind, Mando led the three of you into a common house, the busy sounds of kitchen work and the smell of grilling food easily reaching you before you even got to the entrance. It would have been more welcoming, if it wasn’t also accompanied by nearly everyone turning their eyes to your odd trio and whispering amongst themselves. On one hand, you couldn’t completely blame them, as the three of you were like the lead-up to a bad joke come to life. But it still made you very uncomfortable, knowing without a doubt that you were being watched and discussed. You hated the feeling. You self-consciously adjusted the fabric masking your face and furrowed your brow to try and give off the most “do not approach” energy you could, glancing around at the tenants. Not many of them returned your gaze, save a few, including one woman who didn’t at all look like she was from there. Strong, wearing armor and weapons - not to the extent of the Mandalorian, of course. But you could still feel that she wasn’t to be messed with. You averted your gaze quickly.

The child, meanwhile, was bright as ever with this new place he was in. He looked around the establishment, taking in the new scenery and the light filtering in through the gaps of the woodwork with his big eyes. You in turn watched him, as Mando located a table for the three of you. You followed suit and sat at the table, and as you turned to see what the kid was up to, you noticed the little one had locked eyes with a tooka cat beneath the chair of a nearby tenant. The child was curious, but you knew enough about tooka cats to know that the way it was looking back meant it was interpreting the child’s staring as threatening to its peace. Very few animals took maintaining eye contact as anything but a challenge, and this was no different.

“Leave it alone, kid.” You murmured just loud enough that you hoped he’d hear. Your words were too late, as the cat’s lips pulled back and revealed its enormous maw of teeth in a menacing hiss. The child flinched back with a frightened noise, and next thing you knew you were snatching him up by the ruff of his oversized coat and plopping him in the seat beside you.

There was barely any time for any of you to exchange glances when a proprietor approached the table, face weathered but welcoming.

“Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth, for the little one.” Mando motioned with his hand towards the child. You suppressed giving the armored man a skeptical look for ordering the most basic of things for the kid, when it was obvious they had more substantial food in this establishment. It was fine, you told yourself, he had the final say and this wasn’t the place to call him out on his decisions.

“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty. Can I interest you in a porringer of broth as well?” Mando shook his head. The proprietor turned her gaze to you expectantly.

“No, thank you.” You put your palm out in a placating gesture. Even though the aroma of food filtered through your face covering and had a tempting quality to it, somewhere as public as this was absolutely not somewhere you’d be comfortable trying to eat at. If you could take it to go, maybe. But you had no idea where you’d even be staying at this point, or how much longer you’d be looking for such a place. No, you could wait.

The proprietor nearly began to speak again when Mando cut her off. “That one over there, when did she arrive?”

So, you hadn’t been the only one to notice the intimidating woman across the room. Well, it wasn’t that difficult, with how much she stuck out amongst the residents of the planet. You three were equally as noticeable, and you didn’t miss how the woman was still watching you, though she was trying to be discreet about it. There was wariness coming off of her, you could feel that much.

The proprietor glanced towards where Mando had indicated the strange woman to be, seemingly confused. “Uh, I’ve seen her here for the last week or so.”

Mando continued pressing her for answers she didn’t have. “What’s her business here?”

“Business?” The proprietor looked as confused as ever. “Well, there’s not much business on Sorgan, so I can’t say…” The sound of credits clinking onto the countertop reached in your ears as Mando casually tossed some onto the tabletop. You were too busy watching the woman out of your peripheral vision to pay too much attention to what he was up to. The proprietor mentioned the woman not being a log runner, and offered complimentary spotchka before she left to retrieve the order.

The moment the woman stood and moved to leave the common house, you discreetly rapped your knuckle against Mando’s vambrace. The black T of his visor turned towards you, and you vaguely twitched your fingers in the direction the woman had been moments before. “She’s leaving.” You murmured as lowly as you could so Mando could hear but others couldn’t. You didn’t get any impression of real danger or malice from her, but knowing that the three of you had prices on your heads, you had a feeling the bounty hunter would try to follow her and make sure she wasn’t about to report on your whereabouts to anyone.

Mando stood from his seat, gaze trained on the doorway to the establishment. “Stay here with the kid. I’ll be back.”

And there it was. You exhaled through your nose and looked down at the kid, comically small in his chair and watching as the beskar-clad man made his way to the exit and out of sight.

You wondered how often he went out of his way to pick possible fights like this.

The proprietor returned to the table and placed a small bowl in front of the child, breaking you from your thoughts. The complimentary bottle of spotchka made an appearance, too, but you didn’t pay much mind to it. Alcohol was never something you liked, between it being an acquired taste and dulling your thoughts. You still nodded appreciatively at her before she left to tend to the next table.

Before the kid could finish picking up his bowl, the faintest of sounds reached your ears. While you normally wouldn’t pay much mind to such things in a public place, there was some notion in your mind that it was the buckethead getting into a fight with the woman from earlier. You looked over at your tiny companion, who looked up at you over the brim of his bowl and towards the doorway Mando had left through moments earlier.

“He doesn’t need our help, we’ll just get in the way.”

The kid seemed to take that as a challenge, and hopped down from his seat and began to toddle off.

“Hey, no, we are not going out there-” You jumped up and tried to herd him back towards the table, and you almost succeeded, but the little green thing was surprisingly determined and avoided your awkward movements, both of you caught up in a ridiculous dance. The tenants were watching you and your face heated with embarrassment. You finally scooped up the rapscallion with one arm, narrowly avoiding some of the broth sloshing from his bowl and onto the floor.

“Fine, we’ll go see what’s going on. Just stop trying to run off on me.” You pointed meaningfully at the kid with your index finger, peering into those big dark eyes and hoping he actually listened. He looked back at you with those big bright eyes and perked ears in a way that somehow told you he understood.

You carefully set him back on the ground. “Stay close.”

Exiting the establishment and turning the corner was as far as you needed to go to see just what you suspected - Mando and the woman scrabbling to get the upper hand against the other. It was almost comical, in a way, even though blasters were involved and the situation could very well turn dangerous.

And it nearly did just that when the two fell on the ground with blasters pointed at each other’s heads - causing you to pull your own blaster from its holster - except everything was interrupted by a very loud slurp from the child as he watched from beside you, bowl of broth clutched tightly. The slow turns of their heads and prolonged look from both of them was enough of an announcement of a stalemate as any. You snorted and shook your head slightly at the scene.

“I take it you don’t actually want to kill each other, then.” You slightly lowered your blaster from where it was aimed at the woman. You didn’t miss the way Mando paused in a way that you imagined he was rolling his eyes under his helmet. He turned his attention back to the woman he was still vaguely pointing his blaster at.

“Would you like some soup?”

You all returned to the table you’d had back in the common house. The woman - named Cara Dune, you learned - told you her story. She was a former shock trooper for the former Rebel Alliance working on Endor, with no additional support, and as soon as the ex-Imperials were gone the politics got out of hand and she found herself working to “keep the peace”. Beating rioters and favoring delegates wasn’t what she’d signed up for, so she left, and now had a price of her own for desertion. She recognized Mando as being part of the Guild and suspected he’d come looking for her. She kept glancing curiously at you throughout her explanation, like she wasn’t sure what to make of you tagging around with a Mandalorian bounty hunter and why he was even letting it happen. Sure, the child was an equally puzzling factor, but she seemed to sense he was a touchy subject.

She eventually turned to you after her explanation was finished. “So what’s your story?”

You shrugged, idly adjusting one of your wrist pieces. “He got my house blown up and put me on a wanted list, so this is his way of dealing with the guilt.”

Cara visibly bites back a laugh and tries to hide behind her own cup of broth. You glance over at your companion, whose stiff posture tells you he’s not sure how to react, but he’s definitely embarrassed to some degree.

The ex-trooper downs the last of her broth, and stands from the table. “Well, this has been a real treat. But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on, and I was here first.” She gives you all a curt nod, and walks away.

Mando leans back in his own chair and looks between you and the kid, who’s working on his second helping of broth. “Well, looks like this planet’s taken.”

The walk back to the Razor Crest was a somber one for you. Now that you had spent some time on the surface, you’d actually taken a bit of a liking to the place. But Mando was right - as remote as this planet was, it could likely only handle one fugitive at a time. Looked like it was back to the ship directory to root through whatever systems it could access. You tried not to let your mind wander off to mourn your lost database again. This was exactly why you compiled lists of multiple options, in case something like this happened and one of those choices fell through.

A tug on your pant leg dragged you from your mulling. You looked down and were met with the concerned face of the child looking back up at you.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me.” The kid burbled quietly at you in response. That seemed to catch Mando’s attention, as he was now looking questioningly back at you.

“Something wrong?”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to come up with a brief answer that wasn’t too revealing. You weren’t big on talking about your feelings, and you got the impression that neither was Mando, so between the two of you it would be better if it was kept to a minimum.

“Feeling a little useless on the front of hunting for a planet, that’s all.” It was the first time you’d felt this useless in a very long time, to be honest, but you weren’t about to let that part out.

Mando turned back to continue the trek back to the Razor Crest. “We’ll figure something out.” His tone was superficially dull, but you could tell he was trying in his own way to sound reassuring. That counted for something.

Once you made it back to the Crest, which was safe and sound amongst the trees, the two of you got to work - the Mandalorian using the dying daylight to look over the ship for maintenance, while you took up the task of sifting through the planetary database for your next options. Originally Mando wanted you to take the child up with you so he’d be better contained, but after a pitiful look from those big, dark eyes, it was over and decided that he’d watch him. The “watching” very quickly turned into “put the kid to bed”, thank the maker.

It felt like you’d had barely any time to really start your search when you saw what looked like lights on the ground from your view in the cockpit. You slowly stood, watching the lights as they drew nearer. That couldn’t be anything good.

You clambered your way down the ladder and into the hold just as whoever it was pulled up. It was a small cargo sled, one that barely seemed to be holding itself together, with two men of seemingly modest origins on it. Mando wasn’t the least bit concerned about it, as he continued his repairs and ignore them as they tried to get his attention.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Mando didn’t stop working. “There something I can help you with?”

You slowly made your way towards the ramp, taking care to accentuate the sound of your boots hitting the floor and make your presence known, Mando could take care of himself, but if they knew you were here they were less likely to try anything than if he were alone. You shot them a warning glare when they glanced at you, but watching their already-anxious expressions deepen almost made you regret doing so.

“Uh… yeah… raiders.” “We have money.”

You raised an eyebrow at them.

“You think I’m some kind of mercenary?” Mando still made no indication he was going to stop his work for them.

That was enough to get them stammering. First about how they’d read about Mandalorians, and how they thought he was one based on his armor, and if half of what they read was true then they could recruit him for help. One emphasized again, that they had money.

“How much?” Mando had paused his working, turning more attention to these strangers.

“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“Krill… We’re… krill farmers.” “We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.”

You don’t know what else you were expecting from locals of the planet, but the coin purse one of the men held up as proof of payment was sad to say the least. Krill farming and spotchka brewing didn’t strike you as a very lucrative business anyways, but if that was all they could muster…?

“It’s not enough.” And there was Mando, confirming your suspicions about what his rates were. You didn’t recall him being picky about his bounty, but thinking back, he did go for higher bounties more often than not. It looked like he still held onto that standard despite no longer being part of the Guild. Hell, if you were going by your own rates, what they appeared to have on hand wouldn’t even cover half of your cheapest services.

Mando finished what he’d been doing and made his way up the ramp towards you. The men following him up the ramp was unexpected, but not frightening. They were desperate, and you were getting a better sense of just how much.

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.” One of them tried to look to you for support. You stared back apprehensively.

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.” Mando brushed past you, using your form as a barrier between him and the strangers as he retreated further into the hold.

“This is everything we have! We’ll give you more after the next harvest!” You stayed where you were, crossing your arms and staring the men down. You knew you should feel bad for them and try to convince Mando to do something, but with the last time you extended help ending with your entire life up to that point being destroyed, you were too wary to do so.

The two men looked between each other and your standoffish presence. Defeated, they slowly turned to return to their sled, talking to each other as they did.

“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection to the middle of nowhere.”

Mando had only made it a few feet past you by then, so he was definitely within earshot of their conversation. He stopped and turned on his heel, coming up behind you and stopping just behind your shoulder. It took everything in your power to appear unbothered by just how close he stood.

“Where do you live?”

The men paused, turning back to look at the man that had just dismissed them.

“A farm, weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.” The hurt was apparent in the man’s voice.

“In the middle of nowhere.”

“…yes?” The confusion was palpable. You knew where this was going and you weren’t sure you liked it.

“You have lodging?”

The men started to realize where this was going, too, and jumped to provide answers he wanted to hear.

“Yes, absolutely.” Mando briefly glanced at you, as if he was about to ask what you thought. Unfortunately for you, that never happened and he made the decision on his own.

“Good.” Mando motioned to them. “Come up and help.” He motioned to you as well, and began pulling out cargo crates to have them start loading.

You approached the man, once the other men had carried one of the crates far enough that they’re out of hearing range.

“Mando, I don’t know about this. Middle of nowhere or not, Dune’s right, this planet can’t handle more than one fugitive at a time.”

Mando continued moving crates to the ramp. “If it took them all day to get here, they’ll be isolated enough.”

“That kind of distance from civilization, however small, hasn’t stopped bounty hunters before. You of all people know that.” You glared into the T-shape of his visor. You also knew that all it took was enough time for word to get out about sighting a certain beskar-clad Mandalorian traveling with a green child to reach interested ears. For all you knew, it could be happening right now.

Mando stopped his actions to turn and face you fully.

“We can always move on after the job if it doesn’t seem right.”

You sighed heavily through your nose. That seemed to be him trying to tell you he wasn’t about to change his mind. He had been doing this longer than you, you supposed. You glanced towards the closed door of his bunk, where the child was sleeping.

“…fine. But I’ll hold you to that.”

You briskly moved to where your makeshift corner was and started gathering up your own things for whatever sort of stay you were in for. Behind you, you heard Mando exchange a few more words with the men as they loaded the last of the cargo he’d pushed on them onto the sled.

His heavy footsteps approached you. “I’m going back into town for a while.” You turned, and noticed the pouch of credits that one of the men had shown you earlier clutched in his hand. “Stay here to keep an eye on them and the kid. I’ll be back.”

You stared at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. “At least he’s not awake to make me come chasing after you this time.”

You swore you heard a slight snort from beneath that helmet.

He’d returned some time later with Cara Dune in tow, and after rousing the kid the four of you joined the two men on their journey back to their village. The cargo sled, thank the maker, was the only part of the ride, no connections made with another transport like a boat like you were fearing. You didn’t like boats much, the swaying made you anxious. Five people made it a little crowded and awkward, and try as you might to sit as far as you could on some strapped-down cargo, to try and preserve some sense of personal space, you found yourself nearly falling off one too many times.

“That’s a good way to fall off and get left behind.”

You narrowed your eyes as you stared at the beskar-clad man that had basically just talked to you like a parent.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

The way he tilted his head was enough for you to practically see the skeptical look he was no doubt wearing on his hidden face. The kid, sitting beside him, watched you intently.

“Nobody’s doing anything but waiting out the ride.” He pointed to a spot on the cargo just in front of him, where there was definitely enough room for you to fit, though it meant if you tried to stretch your legs out they’d be right alongside his. Clearly, he didn’t care about that if he was doing this.

You stared at the spot like it was a trap. Almost as if to prove a point, the sled went over a particularly pronounced piece of terrain and jostled you. You very nearly fell just like Mando had said you would. The only thing that kept you from going completely overboard was your grip on the cargo’s ties, but you still flopped embarrassingly around. You saw the man’s head tilt to the side as if to say “see?”

Defeated and embarrassed, you clambered down into the open area. Thank the maker Cara Dune had decided to try and get some sleep earlier, and the two farmers transporting you were busy navigating. You didn’t think you could handle having them involved in this, admittedly silly, exchange. You kept your gaze down, not daring to even look up at the Mandalorian. The kid, however, earned himself something between a glare and a smirk when you heard a small giggle come from his direction.

You drew your legs up into your new space, both to keep from invading even more of Mando’s space, and to keep out of the child’s space as well. Mando could handle an accidental kick if you absent-mindedly shuffled; the little green one probably wouldn’t fare so well.

Once you’d settled, you leaned back onto the cargo packed behind you and tried to get as comfortable as you could manage. Which wasn’t much. Mando, however, seemed capable of doing it, as he slowly fell backwards and folded his arms behind his head. You didn’t realize how broad he was until now, seeing up close how much space he took up just by doing that. And all over again, you felt like you were in his space, and needed to get out of it out of respect. But there was nowhere to go.

You had to snort to yourself when the child mimicked the bounty hunter and tipped backwards onto his much-softer surroundings, peering up at the dark sky with equally dark eyes. At least he was content to do that.

The sled ride stretched on for the duration of the night and into the morning, the farmers switching shifts partway through. You’d never really fallen asleep all the way, just dozed in the same position you took when you initially settled in. Your eyes had closed, and you became somewhat less aware of your surroundings, but the slightest of unusual sounds or movements still drew enough attention that you’d crack an eye open to see what was happening. All through the hours of darkness and through the light breaking over the land. So when the sled began to approach the village, you could hear it. The sounds of people working, distant voices. Opening your eyes and pushing yourself upright, you turned to look up ahead. In the distance you could see the beginnings of some sort of settlement.

You shifted your attention to the others on the sled. Cara Dune was still sleeping, though you didn’t know how. Mando and the child seemed to be out, as well. It was harder to tell with the bounty hunter because of his helmet, but the way he laid there was convincing.

Reaching over, you lightly grabbed one of the child’s clawed feet and shook it to get his attention.

“Get up, kiddo.”

He blinked awake, eyes squinting in the morning light and mouth working to remedy having gone dry while he slept with it open the night before. His big eyes shifted around to look for his Mandalorian guardian, body relaxing once he located him.

You weren’t going to try and use touch to see if he was awake, though. That could get you stabbed or shot, what with the combination of his reflexes and waking up in a strange place.

“Mando.” You raised your voice, hoping volume alone would do the trick. Fortunately for you, it did. The man shifted and groaned like he had just come alive, his helmet shifted ever so slightly and you could tell he was looking at you.

“We’re there.”

The armored man slowly drew himself upright into a sitting position. As much as he’d tried to get comfortable, he knew he’d be fighting with a back ache for a while after sleeping like he had. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already dealt with before, with his longer bounty hunts taking him far from his ship and civilization and requiring him to put comfort to the wayside. You, however, had probably not had to relegate yourself to such circumstances. You looked like you hadn’t actually slept, bags present beneath your eyes and a subtle, narrow-eyed scowl he hadn’t seen before on your face. You probably didn’t even know it was there.

The approach to the village was quickly noticed by the villagers, and before you knew it there was a crowd forming to welcome you.

And a lot of them were children.

You could see and hear them immediately. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled through your nose for a moment to steel yourself, both for the crowd and the large percentage of it being so young. You hadn’t even had a chance to really get used to the green child you were tasked with helping out with. And these kids could talk .

The sled came to a stop, the slight jarring motion shaking Cara Dune awake. She looked around, mind working to remember the circumstances that landed her in a strange vehicle with equally strange company.

The first thing the children of the crowd did, was fixate on the child companion of yours in the sled. They were all murmuring and giggling amongst themselves, and the kid looked back at them with equally curious intent. None of you had any idea when he was last around anyone of his mentation.

“Looks like they’re happy to see us.” You heard Mando’s voice crackle through his voice modulator. Cara Dune smiled, but all you could do was blink tiredly. You weren’t ready for this.

One of the children, a girl, broke away from the crowd and got closer to the smaller, green child, greeting him personally. You watched the interaction carefully. She seemed to notice, as she quickly made eye contact and ducked away back into the safety of the other village children.

With that, everyone disembarked the sled and began unloading cargo. You slowly rose from your spot, knees protesting from staying folded for so long and making you grit your teeth. You grabbed the pack you’d brought with you, slinging it over your shoulder and hobbling off of the sled to join the others, who were carrying their respective luggage. The child had been surrounded by the village kids, the curiosity on both sides still strong and outweighing the apprehension of the strangers with him.

It was time to be shown where you’d be staying, though. Without any words exchanged, Mando shuffled over to gather up the child, kids scattering, and you, Cara Dune, and he were led to your accommodations.

The village was modest, but cozy. The huts all had a distinct charm to them, with the same woven look as the common house, and reminding you of fishing baskets. Smoke rose from some, and in the distance you could make out man-made ponds where they likely farmed their krill.

You were all led to what appeared to be a building other than a hut. There’s a woman there, apparently putting the last touches on preparing it for guests. When she sees you approaching, she stops fussing with the blinds and turns to face you. You don’t miss how she’s focused in on the Mandalorian, with some sense of hesitation, like she wasn’t anticipating how meeting a Mandalorian in person would be. You couldn’t blame her, honestly.

“Please, come in.” You let Mando lead, watching him walk in and put his cargo down onto the floor. The woman turned and seemed mildly surprised when you entered as well, like she hadn’t really seen you before when you made your approach. Again, you couldn’t blame her - if you’d never met a Mandalorian before, it would be hard to notice anything else. That, and it made sense that should word get out in the village about a Mandalorian arriving, the last thing anyone would talk about would be his companions.

“I apologize… I didn’t realize how many guests there would be.” She glances briefly at you and the child individually. You began to feel guilty about being there at all. Of the adults that were there, you were by far the least useful for the job involving the raiders, and of the resources available for guests you felt like it would be better to distribute them amongst the others before you. The child, too, you felt deserved things before you did. You didn’t miss him looking up at you with his big dark eyes, as if he could sense your discomfort.

“Is, uh, there anywhere else available—“

“This will be fine.”

You give the beskar-clad man a perplexed look when he cuts you off. You were attempting to give the man his space back, surely he would like that better than having you hole up in the same small building?

“It’s not any different from the ship. We’ll make do.” He was looking back at you through that dark visor as if he had heard your thoughts. You blinked.

“Are you sure?”

The curt nod he gave you told you the conversation was over. Well… as long as he was okay with it.

The woman took that as her cue that she could speak again. “I’ve stacked some blankets over there, I can get more should you need them.” She indicated the area she meant. You nodded appreciatively at her.

There’s a very slight sound from the doorway, and both you and Mando turn to see the girl from before that had been talking to the child. She attempted to hide behind the doorframe, bashful about being noticed, but the woman goes to gently pull her back into sight and gently hold her to her side.

“This is my daughter Winta. We don’t get a lot of visitors around here, she’s not used to strangers.” That explains the extra feeling of being watched you’d felt on top of the village at large watching you, this girl must’ve followed along. The woman turned to face her daughter. “This nice man and his friends are going to help protect us from the bad ones.”

Winta looked shyly at you and Mando, and politely whispered a thank you. The woman took her daughter by the hand, leading her outside. “Come on, Winta, let’s give our guests some space.”

Just like that, you were left alone with your usual companions.

You glanced around, seeing that it was essentially just one open room. That wouldn’t do. Whatever Mando told you, you knew he would appreciate having a space to himself. You, also, would appreciate some semblance of privacy.

Speaking of Mando, he hadn’t moved to unpack at all, he continued to stand in place as he tried to process what he’d gotten himself into. He’d done plenty of jobs, with plenty of clients, but he wasn’t at all used to being treated like a “nice man”, as the woman had put it. He didn’t know how he was supposed to fee about it.

His buffering was briefly interrupted when you pushed past him into the barn, and began to root through the blankets that had been left and other supplies that had been pushed off to the side to make space.

“I’m going to build some sort of divide for the room. To at least make it feel like there are two rooms instead of one.” You began draping things over your shoulders and arms as you found them, and looking up at the ceiling and the walls to see what you had to work with. Part of him wanted to tell you to just sit down for now, since he could tell you weren't rested at all from the night before. But he also felt like he wouldn’t be able to stop you from your current activity until you’d finished it. He resigned himself to getting his cargo unpacked.

What he doesn’t know, is you were also trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You had noticed how the woman had briefly paused in the doorway as she left to look back - at Mando, and only Mando. You didn’t know why, but something about it bothered you. Was it a look of apprehension and were you offended on his behalf? No, that wasn’t it. It was some other expression that was subtle and layered and happened too fast for you to read. But it still bothered you. You tried to brush it aside and get to working on your new project instead.

Before long you had constructed a simple set of walls from various things you’d found around - you’d taken some sheets from the pile of blankets, and used them in conjunction with some netting and poles to fix them to the walls and ceilings similar to what you had done with your space back on the Razor Crest. A crib had been provided for the child, and you moved that onto the “half” that you’d designated Mando’s space - the larger section, and the one with the window. Your “half” was more like your “third” of the bar’s interior. Really, you didn’t mind. Mando had been busy unpacking and reconvening with Cara Dune to offer any input until it was done, anyways.

Later in the day, you’d more or less finished unpacking what little you’d brought, and Mando was tending to his rifle. You sat on a crate, idly fussing with the settings on your blaster, musing to yourself if you could possibly bother the bounty hunter in the future for something more substantial.

“Knock, knock.”

The woman from earlier stood at the door with a tray of a few plates of food in hand, her daughter in tow. You could see them, but their attention was turned to Mando and the child, who was standing in his crib. “Come in.” Mando’s voice sounded from beyond the divide in the room.

The woman entered, setting the tray down on a nearby surface and picking up a plate from it. Winta stepped forwards shyly, asking if she could feed the child. Mando wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he didn’t see a problem with it. “Sure.”

You watched from just around the edge of the divide, as the girl first knelt to feed the child, and then asked if she could play with him. Mando seemed just as fond of dealing with kids as you, hearing his sigh and flat “sure” in response. You smirked at that.

Once Mando had set the child on the ground, Winta immediately darted out the doorway with the child in tow. Mando started to protest, but the woman held him back. You didn’t know why, it was such a simple thing and she was coming from a place of experience where he had none, but for some reason… it made you bristle slightly. You felt like she was overstepping her bounds somehow. You shook your head briefly. She didn’t know any better, it was fine.

The woman then reached for one of the plates of food, to set on a surface closer to where Mando had been maintaining his rifle. “I brought you some food, I noticed you didn’t eat out there. I’ll leave it here for when I go.” Mando awkwardly thanked her, and moved to turn away.

You were hoping she would leave, then, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked if she could ask Mando a question. With his approval, she continued.

“How long has it been since you’ve taken that off?”

Oh, the helmet question. That was bound to happen sooner or later, honestly. You hoped she didn’t say anything too intrusive or insensitive.

“Yesterday.”

“I mean in front of someone else.”

The air felt heavy. You couldn’t quite see from your position where he was looking, but you saw him motion through the window towards what might have been the child and Winta, and other children based on the sounds of play you could hear.

“I wasn’t much older than they are.”

The woman sounded almost horrified that he hadn’t shown his face to anyone since then. The bounty hunter protested, saying that after his parents had been killed, the Mandalorians had taken him in and cared for him as their own.

It’s not like you knew what his past was, or what you expected it to be, but hearing it like this was like a punch to the gut. It was a horrible thing for him to have gone through at all, let alone as a child. You arguably had only just been getting to know him, but the fact that this woman he had never met before was able to get this fact out of him at all, let alone such a personal fact, stung. He had told you earlier that he’d trusted you. That should’ve been enough, and should’ve stopped you from having your thoughts run loose like they were.

“...I’m sorry.” The woman sounded genuinely sad.

“This is the way.”

“Let us know if there’s anything you need.”

Finally, she left. It did not escape you, though, that she hadn’t stopped to see if you had been there to let you know that she had brought you some food, as well, as you also had not left to go get food since arriving. That hurt a little bit, but with the way the prior exchange had gone it probably just slipped her mind. It wasn’t her fault. She was being a good host, she still brought it, didn’t she? You could swear, though, that she seemed to feel some sort of draw towards the bounty hunter and was acting on it in small ways. And you could not figure out why it bothered you.

Once she had left completely, you quietly crept out from behind the divide to retrieve your own plate. Mando was still standing before the window, watching the kids playing with the child. The woman now approached the crowd, no doubt to supervise and make sure they weren’t being too rough. You felt his eyes turn to you slightly.

“I uh… I’m sorry. About what happened in your past. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t not hear that part.”

Mando inclined his head for a moment, and then looked back up at you. “It wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have told you if it had come up.”

That lifted your mood a bit. Plate in hand, you wandered over to stand before the window, not too close but beside where Mando stood, to watch the kids.

“Looks like he’s having fun.” Mando hummed in agreement, arms folded.

You don’t notice, but the Mandalorian had turned his head ever so slightly to look at you without giving away that that’s what he was doing. He’s usually not the best at reading people, but he could tell that something about the interaction he had just had with the woman had upset you somehow - he also had not missed how she had left after speaking with him and hadn’t tried to see if you were around to speak to you, as well. This was a different kind of upset than what he had seen when you were first on his ship, after your home had been destroyed. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like this now. He realized didn’t like seeing you upset, or to be linked to the reason you were upset.

The two of you stood there for a few more moments, watching the villagers and the child play. You cleared your throat.

“Well, I still don’t like eating around others. I’m going to my ‘room’.” Mando felt a small smile flicker on his face at that, as you left and went back to your area.

Once you were there, you had been about to pick up a piece of the food when you heard the tell-tale sound of Mando’s helmet being removed. You didn’t know if it was the closer proximity or the conversation that had just happened, but you retreated even further into your area until you were as far away as possible, like somehow even being too close while his helmet was off was just as bad as seeing his face.

The job turned out to be much more complicated than any of you had thought. Surveying the woods showed that the raiders were in possession of an Imperial AT-ST, a formidable weapon to have even against trained troops, let alone a defenseless krill farm. Cara Dune was especially off-put by it, having seen the mech in action and barely escaping to tell the tale. Mando, blunt as ever, tried to tell the village’s occupants to just leave and find another place on the planet to farm, but that went over horribly - everyone was angry, saying that he’d agreed to the job and that he should keep to it, that they had lived there for generations and it took so long to even get the farm established, and so on. They insisted they could be taught to fight and help take on the raiders, stubborn in not wanting to leave their homes. Somehow, their desperation won over the bounty hunter and ex-shock trooper, and it was decided that the entire village of twenty-odd people would follow Cara Dune’s instructions to modify the village grounds into a battleground to take down the machine, and the raiders in turn.

The biggest hurdle was teaching the villagers how to fight to begin with. Nobody knew how to deal with hand-to-hand combat. None of them - except the woman, whose name was Omera - knew how to fire a blaster.

That also meant that Mando’s entire arsenal he’d brought along with him would be put to use arming everyone.

While Cara Dune was working with melee training her half of the adults, Mando was overseeing the target practice. You were more familiar with firing a blaster than you were with physical fighting, so you were attempting to help in that department, as well. You had certainly fired off your fair share of one-in-a-million hits in the times you’d even had to use your blaster, but you had no idea how you were able to do it. It was just… an instinct, somehow, that kicked in right at the moment it was needed, and would vanish just as quickly before you could even try to comprehend it. Still, though, you could try.

They were terrible.

Shots were flying and only a small fraction were landing anywhere, and of those, even less were hitting their intended targets. Except for Omera. Every shot she fired landed square in the middle of her target, one after the other. You could see Mando watching her closely, nodding when she turned to look expectantly at him with a slight smile.

It makes you grit your teeth and you don’t know why. He’s allowed to be impressed by someone from a backwater planet being good with a blaster. He was allowed to be impressed by her tenacity to defend her village. He was allowed… and whatever this strange feeling was that you had, wasn’t allowed to get in the way. That was up to him.

You had been walking between the villagers, giving them pointers on how to better aim, but once you’d noticed what you had with the widow and Mando, something shifted in you. And unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching you, probably more than he had been watching Omera. Your eerie accuracy with your own blaster when you fired off and hit the targets, the way you went from person to person to curtly correct their poise, the way your eyes flashed as you stood back and looked from trainee to trainee with a calculating, concentrated look to determine who needed fixing where. This was a new side of you he hadn’t seen. It was intimidating… but in a good way. He caught himself being confused by his own thoughts, and reminded himself sternly that he needed to concentrate on training everyone and getting things ready.

That night, the plan would be executed. Luring the raiders out, having the villagers go hand-to-hand with the raiders while Mando and Cara Dune took care of downing the AT-ST. You hoped it would work.

In the weeks following the successful defeat of the raiders and destruction of their AT-ST, you stayed put in the village. You and Mando and the kid didn't have anywhere better to be, and Mando still stood by it being a good place for waiting out the hunt going on for the kid. Unlike Mando, though, you didn't feel completely safe. You still felt like it was only a matter of time before someone came looking. The raiders didn't all get killed, and though they probably hadn't laid eyes on the child, let alone the village's children in general, it would have been difficult for them to miss the beskar-clad man that they went up against. Word was going to get out.

Mando wasn't convinced. There was nothing besides your sense of unease to indicate that sort of thing would happen, and he needed more substance than that to act. And so, you were stuck there for the time being.

So you tried to make do with living during that time.

Mando spent his time being the quiet watchman of the village, keeping his weapons he'd brought along in top condition just in case. It couldn't hurt to stay vigilant. And it helped you be more at ease to know he hadn't completely shrugged off the possibility of danger.

And when he wasn't cleaning his weapons for the millionth time, or making sure the child wasn't getting into too much trouble with the village children, he was watching you.

He noticed the way you'd go sit out at the far edge of the village clearing, by the edge of the water beneath the shade of the trees, scribbling things in the odd flimsiplast book you'd brought along with you. He got curious one day and wandered over to where you were, making the excuse that he was patrolling the perimeter and just happened to be passing by you on his way. He got to see what it was you were doing - you were sketching the huts and ponds, as well as the trees and animals, making notes beside them. You didn't limit your note-taking to sitting out on the edge of the village, either, sometimes you stayed amongst the buildings and watched the locals and made notes about them.

There were more than a few times that the child would break away from the village kids and watch you, too, and there were times you'd tear a page out and let him scribble on it alongside you. It was endearing to watch, though he'd never admit it, how intensely focused the little one would be on mimicking you during those times. He saw you do your best to be social when the rest of the kids would inevitably crowd around the two of you and watch what you were doing, and begin asking questions. They did that to him, too, with his weapons, and he would try to tell them stories he remembered hearing as a child himself. You didn't seem to tell them stories, so much as just facts about how this or that worked, or how things are different on other planets in this or that way. They still seemed to take it in just as well.

When you weren't note-taking, or trying to avoid being swarmed by curious children, you'd be in the village kitchens, taking advantage of having proper cooking facilities outside of the makeshift space on the Razor Crest and trying out local ingredients and recipes. The child was frequently your taste-tester, and he loved every bit of it. There were times that he'd take a bite of something you'd made, and instead of downing the rest of it, he'd look around for Mando, and upon spotting him he'd hurry over with the food in hand, waving it up at him as if to say "try it". He would, of course, wait until he was in the privacy of his own space, but he'd always try it. He had to admit, though he knew the locals had been working with the ingredients for generations and were by no means bad cooks, there was something about your cooking that he liked better. He knew you'd brought along some of your own spices and that you put your own spin on things, but it was deeper than that and he didn't know why.

He notices that though you try to converse with the locals when appropriate, you frequently retreat to be in his presence and just sit quietly. It starts as you just going back to the barn and him happening to also be there, but over time it evolved into you actively seeking him out in moments where he was apart from the others, wherever that may have been. It was… nice.

It was also nice that, on some nights where neither of you could sleep, you would wind up quietly talking about this or that through the makeshift wall in the barn that divided your sleeping areas. The conversations were about mundane things, never lasted long, and were always quiet because of the sleeping child nearby. But it was a new thing for him that he found he liked. For so long he had traveled alone and in complete silence, and while there was still a degree of silence and separation between the two of you, it was different.

The villagers seemed to act like you would just stay there forever. Names were learned, bits and pieces of life stories were swapped, some degree of familiarity was established.

There was absolutely no way anyone could miss how attentive Omera had become to ensuring you all were still tended to, but especially in regards to Mando. He was civil in return, and you swear he had started to open up to her and go beyond just being polite. You, also, did your best to be civil towards her, but it was difficult for some reason. It was not your place to decide who was allowed to be friends with who, or how they responded to such actions. Not your place to feel put off by another person getting close to arguably the only person you knew beyond vague acquaintance-ship.

And this didn’t just feel like someone building a friendship, either. You did not know why it bothered you as much as it did. But here you were.

One day, you, Mando, and Cara Dune were all on the porch of the barn, lounging for lack of a better word. Cara Dune sat reclined in a chair, you on the edge of the porch, and Mando casually leaned back against the wall of the barn. He looked very relaxed and it took you a little more effort than normal not to just stare at the rare sight.

And then Omera appeared.

She had been in the barn doing some tidying up, as hosts do. As she exited, she handed a cup of spotchka to Cara Dune, who thanked her, and then she turned to Mando.

“Can I set you something in the house?” She briefly turned her vision towards you, to indicate the offer was extended to you as well, but it went right back to the bounty hunter before you could answer.

“Uh… thank you. Maybe later.” He mumbled his answer, awkward as ever. The woman looked back at you, and you shook your head to her offer, not daring to try and open your mouth. She seemed satisfied with that, and turned to watch the village children playing with the child. He’d captured a frog, and wasted no time in stuffing it into his mouth and trying to swallow it like a vine snake. The children laughed and groaned in amused disgust. The frog turned out to be too big for the little one and he spat it out, and everyone cackled as the frog hopped away, no doubt startled by nearly being eaten.

“He’s very happy here.” Omera’s voice broke the silence on the porch.

“He is.” The bounty hunter’s voice responded.

“Fits right in.” And with that, the widow walked away. You watched her leave with narrowly-disguised distaste on your face. The kid was still a target for all you knew, and that little comment implying he should continue to stay just made you realize how little they understood about the consequences that could come their way should the hunters find him. Being able to actually be a child was good, yes, but not at the expense of having another event similar to the raiders, one they wouldn’t have time to plan for.

Apparently, Cara Dune had some thoughts of her own.

“So what happens if you take that thing off?” She nodded at Mando, indicating his helmet. “They come after you and kill you?”

Your distaste turned to her next.

“No, you just can’t ever put it back on again.” Cara scoffed at his answer. She looked at you to see if you thought it was as ridiculous as she did, a smirk on her face. You narrowed your eyes at her, and her smirk faded a bit. You’d known, and you respected his cultural beliefs not to badger him like she was trying to do.

“I was gonna say, if that’s it, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all for you to just slip it off and take up living here, raising the kid and sipping spotchka.” She motioned in the direction Omera had left with her glass.

“The beautiful young widow would be more than happy to help with that.” She looked back at you. “Am I right?”

Your skin felt like it would scramble right off your body.

Somehow, hearing Cara Dune confirm that she, too, had seen Omera’s interest in Mando made it all too real in your mind. And she wouldn’t be making such comments if she didn’t think Mando had similar feelings, either.

Why did it bother you so much?

You heard your name, realizing she was actually waiting for an answer from you.

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice was quiet and clipped, a poor attempt to keep your feelings veiled. Cara Dune finally noticed your tense posture, the discomfort very apparent in the line of conversation she’d started up.

She immediately regretted her teasing about the widow. Unlike you and Mando, she was actually able to read people. Mando may have been oblivious to it, but she could see now that you were more fond of the bounty hunter than she initially thought. She’d sensed some sort of dislike towards Omera from you, with how brief you kept your interactions with her, but this made it make sense. Kriff, you were probably oblivious to it, too.

Mando’s modulated voice brought her back to the present. “You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks ago. It’s too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. You might wanna cycle the charts and move on.”

You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes. “Finally.” You’d only been trying to convince him to do that the moment you’d chased the raiders off. “I thought it was going to take bounty hunters actually showing up to get you to make that decision.”

You swiveled where you sat to look at the man pointedly. He shook his head lightly. You could almost hear the good-natured smirk under his helmet. You couldn’t help but quirk the corner of your mouth yourself.

As forward as Omera was with hinting her interest towards Mando, Cara Dune thought, you weren’t too bad of a companion choice for him, either. You might not be the worse of the two, either, as far as the dynamic between you. As long as the buckethead wasn’t alone.

She looked back to where the kids were all playing. “I wouldn’t want to be the one who’s gotta tell him that it’s time to leave.”

“I’m leaving him here.”

You and Cara Dune stared at him.

“Traveling with me… that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe. Better chance at a life here.”

No. You weren’t going to let him decide that easily.

“Mando. Do I need to remind you that the kid is being hunted as much as you are?” He started to protest, but you continued, standing up from your seat to face him fully, crossing your arms. “And, like you said, the fight with the raiders will have drawn attention. We sure didn’t kill them all, some got away. ‘Word travels fast’.”

Mando stared back, at a loss for words, and looked to Cara Dune for backup. She only shrugged, indicating you had a point.

“...if anyone was going to come, they would have done so by now.”

You dropped your arms to your sides, an incredulous expression on your face. Really? Really?

“Mando-”

He held up his hand to stop you. Such a simple motion shocked you enough to derail your thoughts. He really wasn’t changing his mind, was he…? Was he that ready to leave the kid behind?

Was he that ready to be rid of you …?

Leaving the child here meant your current “job” would no longer exist. It meant having to figure out where to go next, how to start next.

You weren’t ready for that.

You looked down at the wood flooring of the porch. You couldn’t figure out how to argue back in a way that didn’t sound selfish. Defeated, you turned away from the beskar-clad man and faced away, looking at the children playing again.

Mando truly felt like this was the best option for the child at this point. He wasn’t anywhere near an acceptable parental figure, and per your own admission you didn’t do well with kids, either. The kid needed other kids to be around, adults that were willing and happy to raise him. You needed to be able to actually settle down somewhere you could rebuild. This tiny village, with its lack of technology, wasn’t it, and it wasn’t on his cramped ship with his stubborn self, either. You deserved better. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the kid, or to you, but it wasn’t about what he wanted.

The three of you solemnly watched the child play with the other village children.

“It’s gonna break his little heart.” Cara Dune muttered.

“He’ll get over it. We all do.”

You didn’t want to agree with him, on that last line. But he was right.

Everyone had finished packing, all that was needed was for it to be loaded onto the cargo sled. The air felt weighted, and it wasn’t from the humidity of the surrounding swamp.

For you, the air got even more oppressive when you saw Mando approach Omera and lead her slightly away from the others to speak to her. You knew he was just asking her to watch after the child. But you could see the way she was looking at him. You could see Mando fidgeting, almost shyly. You could feel your face get tingly. Why was this so hard for you? It wasn’t about you.

You couldn’t hear the exchange, but you could tell Omera was saying something back at him, and the way her expression changed, you almost felt like she was asking him to stay, too.

But then, pulling you from your wallowing in self-pity, you felt the same thing you’d felt back at your old home, just before the bounty hunters broke through and your life as you knew it ended. The intense, physical feeling of wrong, of something in your head thrashing about telling you to run. Telling you to grab the kid and run.

They were here.

You sprinted towards where the village kids were, focusing in on the child, drawing your blaster.

"Mando!”

Whatever had been happening between Mando and Omera was forgotten, the widow spinning around to see what the shouting was, and Mando falling into a defensive stance, hand going to his blaster handle.

Your timing couldn't have been better. As you skidded to your knees to grab the frightened child, the village children scattering in confusion and fear, blaster fire rang out and a scorched blast marked the earth right where he had been sitting. You ran in a crouch to hide behind the nearest barrier you could get to, in this case some of the cargo that had yet to be loaded. The child whimpered and clutched at your clothing, and you clutched him closer, blaster raised in your other hand in case you needed to peek around and return fire.

You heard chatter from the other adults, and peering around the corner of the cargo, you see Cara Dune and Mando rush off int the trees. Omera is quickly herding the children to safety. You stay where you are, slumping against the back of the cargo, knowing Mando won't let whoever's out there get away. You look down at the kid in your grasp, who is looking back up at you with those dark eyes you'd gotten used to.

"I told him it wasn't safe here."

Just as you had warned him, the shots had come from someone carrying a tracking fob for the child. Cara Dune had seen to the demise of the hunter, and the tracking fob was destroyed. If it had been a different situation, you would have been more smug about being right.

But as it currently stood, you needed to get out of there as soon as you could.

The cargo sled was fully loaded, with additional supplies beyond what you’d brought with you, and the child was seated up where he could see out. You sat close by, not wanting to chance having to make a dive for him again. You hadn’t anticipated being so protective, but here you were. The village gathered around to see you off. Cara Dune offered to escort you back, but the decision was made to completely bypass going through town and just go straight to the Razor Crest. For once, you agreed with this decision.

“Well then, until our paths cross.” the two exchanged a firm handshake. She looked back and nodded at you, and you returned it with a raised hand. It was good to know you had an ally out there now.

You’d anticipated leaving by then, but when Winta rushed forward you had to suppress a groan. You were so ready to leave behind the other kids and yet here they were again, prolonging the goodbye process. With little regard for any sense of personal space, she wrapped her arms around the child in a hug. You leaned away a little to give them room. You didn’t expect her to release the child and give you a hug, too.

“I’ll miss you so much.”

You were frozen, your mind having drawn a blank and your body unsure of what to do. It took you a few moments to regain your senses, and you awkwardly put your hands on her shoulders.

“Uh… us too.” She pulled back and gave you both a shy smile, and scampered away back to stand by her mother.

Omera smiled and nodded at you in farewell. You tried to do the same, but you couldn’t guarantee your smile looked anything other than awkward and forced. You were terrible at this.

“Thank you.”

Mando nodded at her as well, and finally, he boarded the sled, and you left the small village.

It was strange, you’d only been on the Razor Crest for a few days before the stay on Sorgan happened and took up the following few weeks of your life, but somehow the ship felt more like home than the village had.

The three of you all sat in the cockpit area of the ship, Mando at the controls, you sitting in one of the chairs with the child in your lap, you idly letting him mess with your hands.

Now that it was just you three, your curiosity was getting the better of you.

“So, Mando… what was Omera saying to you before the bounty hunter attacked?”

Mando flipped a few more switches and dials on the controls and sat back in his chair. “She was suggesting we stay, too.” You mean she was suggesting you stay, you thought to yourself.

“...if the hunter didn’t show, would you have?”

He turned to look at you. “Would you?”

You huffed. “I liked being in the trees, but… too remote for my taste. Too closely packed. Too many kids trying to see what I was doing.” Too much of Omera trying to be friendly with the Mandalorian. You didn’t say that part, though.

He turned back to face the windscreen. “If I had wanted to settle down somewhere, I would have done it years ago.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m not interested in living the sedentary family life.”

Somehow hearing him say that took a huge weight off your mind. But that still didn’t answer the selfish, nagging question you still had.

“Did you like her?” You still didn’t know why you cared so much. But while your courage was up and you were on this train, you had to get it out. Mando’s head tilted in your direction slightly.

“She was… nice. But I don’t think I liked her at all the way she liked me.” He turned back to look at the expanse of space before the ship. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was glad that you all got out of there before he had to tell her that. He wasn’t as oblivious as some thought, he could definitely tell that the widow was harboring some kind of affection towards him. He just didn’t feel the same way back, though. He never did. Besides, even if he did, his idea of how to live was so different from hers that it just wouldn’t work. Living on a farm, having and raising kids, staying in one place? Absolutely not.

You looked down at the child in your lap, tugging on his claws that clutched your fingers, trying to hide the little smile of relief on your face. He perked his ears at you and babbled, seeming to sense you weren’t as weighed down as before.

“You could’ve been free to go start your infochanting back up somewhere, though.” You looked up, a little surprised at the slightly quieter tone to Mando’s voice.

He had come to appreciate your company, but he wasn’t about to directly admit it.

You shook your head and huffed. “Honestly? I don’t mind.”

You looked back down at the kid, gently grabbing the ends of his long ears and fussing with them, making him squeal.

“I’m kind of glad to be back on this bucket of bolts with you.”

You hadn’t made any indication of it, but Mando liked to think you were talking to him just then, and not just the child. Hearing those words stirred something in his chest, and though he couldn’t pin down what it was, he wouldn’t mind feeling it again.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #din djarin #mando #reader insert

23 notes · View notes