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starlightrows · 2 years

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6 — Debt

Hiding In Plain Sight

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Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning: Description of traumatic injury, battlefield first aid, mild extortion, trauma responses, unhealthy reactions to trauma, angst

Summary: You are invited to join the men in painting your armor, and the team suffers another brutal loss

Thank you to my lovely beta reader and literal medical consultant for battle wounds and medical care Dr Vee! @thefact0rygirl

The next several days on shore leave are spent much the same as the first. Wandering around the streets of Coruscant. Laughing, talking, trying new foods, making out in alleyways just because you can, dancing at 79’s and fucking all hours of the night back at the hotel. It’s liberating to be able to spend time in a clone safe space where you can be open about your relationship. Truly a dream come true. Unfortunately no dream lasts forever.

You hug Rigga goodbye and promise you’ll call her when you can. She kisses your cheek and begs you to be safe out there.

“You too handsome” she winks at Wolffe.

You feel a bit embarrassed heading back onto the GAR base in your uniform, some of the beautiful hickeys Wolffe gifted you are prominent and unmistakable. You try your best to hide them, even from him, no need to put both of you in an awkward position.

This still has to remain a secret. You decide your lie for where these hickeys came from is that you ran into an old friend and hooked up with them. Sounds believable enough. You mostly just hope no one will ask. Of course the moment you’re back on base and walking through the men’s barracks, Slush is all over you.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” he crows. You attempt to pull your collar up a little higher and walk faster. “Get a little lucky on shore leave Doc?”

You glare at him and give a once over “I see you didn’t.”

“Ouch! That hurts, Doc. Truly I am wounded” he says dramatically. You give him an unimpressed look.

“Don’t you have a ship to repaint or a jet engine to tinker with?” You ask pointedly

“Actually yes. Do you want to see the design I picked for the nose of our gun ship?” he asks, grabbing his data pad.

“Sure” you’re glad for the change in topic, but also you are genuinely curious. He pulls up a digital image he appears to have drawn himself of General Plo Koon and two indistinct clone trooper helmets, and the words “Plo’s Bros” above it.

“Well? What do you think?” He asks, pushing the data pad into your hands.

“I think you’re a way better artist than I thought,” you chuckle “And I think it’ll be great for the nose of the ship.”

“Thanks Doc” He grins, taking his data pad back.

“Are you looking forward to repainting your armor?” you ask him, “Got any good designs in mind?”

“A few” he nods, swiping to some different images on his data pad to show you “I made some stencils for the more complicated pieces, and so everyone can have a Loth wolf if they want one”

“I want one!” Cinder grins walking into the barracks with Jag and Cricket in tow behind him. Jag and Cricket look a little worse for wear, first timers at 79’s always land up with two day long hangovers.

Cricket plops down on his bunk face down “Question. Does paint smell anything remotely like spotchka?” he groans

“Don’t say that word” Jag gaggs a bit

“I’ll get you guys some electrolyte drinks and soda crackers” you laugh “But really Slush these are great. The team will look unified and cool as hell with these Loth wolves”

“I’m ready for our team to look like a team,” he admits, shutting off his data pad.

“We do look sort of out of place with everyone having mismatched colors or no color at all” Cinder agrees.

While you step away to get homemade hangover cures for the shinies, the rest of the men discuss their plans to decorate their armor and choose stencils that Slush made to help the less artistically inclined have good looking armor.

A few days later, Cricket and Jag’s hangovers are gone. The team goes about their daily duties and functions on base, and regale each other with overexaggerated stories of their few days spent on shore leave. They’ve anxiously been waiting for the paint to come in so they can get started on their armor. Comet and Slush sanded their previous armor paint almost immediately. Sinker, Boost and Wolffe waited a bit longer. But they were all ready and primed to go when the delivery arrived. Like school children they ran for the empty mess hall, shoving each other out of the way and hurriedly setting up the paint tarp so they could all spread out and finally personalize their armor.

You have never officially been a member of a unit or a squad in your time serving with the GAR. You’ve been on temporary assignment with various groups, but not a member. You’re a little unsure if the sharing of paint is an open practice or if participation in decorating your GAR issued body armor is extended to you. You had thought about asking Wolffe about it privately, but you didn’t want that to be taken as inviting yourself to participate either. So while they are all engrossed in their painting, you slip away, not wanting to assume or impose on them.

Instead, you go back to your office to get some work done. Not that you actually accomplish much, you’ve been distracted the last few days. You haven’t had a chance to have any sort of private, non work related, conversation with Wolffe since getting back from shore leave. And damn do you miss him already. The hickies he left you with have begun to fade, you find your thoughts lingering on the feeling of his warm lips against your wet skin under the shower water. His hands gripping your hips hard enough you can still feel it if you concentrate.

You’re drawn out of your work and your thoughts by a knock at the door. “Come in” you call. You look up and see Wolffe standing in the doorway.

He closes the door behind him and leans back on the frame with his arms crossed. “So you’re not painting your armor? Should I be worried you’re getting transferred?”

“What? No, of course I’m not being transferred,” you shake your head “I just… didn’t want to assume armor painting was an open practice for civilian soldiers too.”

“The colors are closed to all except those who are in a given unit. You are part of this unit, as much as the rest of them.” he explains

You smile a bit “Then it will be my honor to wear the gray paint, Commander.”

He pushes off the door frame and comes over to you. You stand to meet him, seeing the urgency of his movements. He gets a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you to him, kissing you hotly.

You thought about telling him that Slush almost blew your cover seeing the hickies. But you think better of it, maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea to tell him. You don’t want him to feel guilty or stop kissing you right now. It’s meant to be a secret, after all. So you keep it to yourself and keep kissing him.

“Hmm… we… we should stop,” you pull away as much as you can with his hand pressed firmly against your neck. “Before people start to wonder what’s taking so long.”

You’re right of course. But he wishes more than anything that he could just say fuck all that and spend the rest of the day making out with you. He lets out a deep sigh, giving you one last kiss before pulling away, “Later then.”

You nod and push him away from you, prompting him to lead you back to the team who are already well on their way with their new paint jobs. Some have opted for more traditional color block patterns, most have artwork or symbols on their pauldrons or shin pieces. You sit down between Slush and Cricket, ever the artists painting intricate designs. You have no idea what to paint on your armor. You hadn’t given it any thought whatsoever given that you were under the impression you wouldn’t be painting your armor at all.

Still you can’t help the warm feeling that blossoms in your chest. It's nice to finally have a color. To be part of this team. This family. You of course are required to keep your red medical designation visible on your pauldron. But that doesn’t stop you from painting a gray stripe down your vambraces and one of Slush’s Loth wolf stencils on your back plate. A secret way to drive Wolffe a little crazy, but also show team spirit.

When all of the armor is painted and dried, you and most of the others put on your full kit and look at yourselves in the training room mirror. A calm quiet settles over the team. Thinking of the people they’ve served with before, of the places they’ve been, the people they’ve lost. Thinking of Mav.

You look good together. A full ensemble. A family. A team.

———

A few weeks pass. The team gets sent out on a painless and all together boring escort mission. Accompany General Plo on various matters of Jedi business. But aren’t seeing a lot of action. Not that anyone is complaining.

Slush has finally given up trying to get you to share the juicy details about your secret rendezvous during shore leave and is entirely oblivious to the fact that you and Commander Wolffe spend nearly every night together in the same sleeping quarters. It’s been much easier lately with less officers on base.

But this morning you are called to the command center bright and early. Armor on, caf in hand, and receiving orders to assemble the pack to protect a planet and its natural resources.

Wolffe coms the team and you’re airborne in under 20 minutes. Apparently this planet is called Khorm, and people that live there have discovered naturally occurring mineral deposits that give off energy. It takes an inexplicable amount of time, care and labor to extract these minerals as large stones. But once extracted they function like batteries that could power a Coruscanti skyscraper for the next thousand years.

The Pack disembarks on the planet and sets up a defensive perimeter around the mining plant. But it’s too little too late, the Separatists are already upon you. The opposition is led by Ventress, wielding her dual red lightsabers and showing no restraint when it comes to enemies or civilians.

Wolffe calls for the team to retreat father into the plant, and calls for an air strike. He himself rushes to guard the storage room where all of the stones are being kept.

He keeps his blasters trained on the open door, waiting for Ventress to make an attempt on the stones. He’s already tired, and trying to catch his breath. He waits. She must be waiting too. Waiting for him to let his guard down. He won’t let it happen. His heart pounds beneath his armor. This is taking too long. Something isn’t right.

He’s not sure what alerted him to it. Maybe a small sound. A shift in the air. The feeling of being watched. He turns fast just in time to see Ventress dropping down from an air vent with her glowing red blade drawn. He raised his blaster, only for her to slice it in half on a downward swing.

He sees a flash of red and feels a violent push that knocks his back against the far wall. He can hear someone screaming. Howling in pain. He knows that voice. Is it Slush? Sinker or Boost? Not another brother… A moment later he realizes it’s him. It is his own voice. And all he can see is the inside of his deactivated helmet viewing shield.

————

You hear it. Through the silence a spray of blaster fire, followed by the ignition of a lightsaber, a clattering impact… that’s when you turned on a dime and started sprinting blindly down the hallway. Slush and Jag at your heels. The screaming. Agonized, blood curdling, screaming. You’re almost there. Almost there. The screaming stops.

He’s laying in a heap near the door. No longer screaming. Barely moving. Slush and Jag leap right over him and go after Ventress, you drop to your knees and throw off your med pack.

“Commander?” You call out, trying to see if he’ll respond “Commander Wolffe can you hear me?”

No intelligent response.

You com the group “Commander Wolffe is down. Sinker, you are in command. Finish the mission. Cricket, call for a medevac. Right now”

A chorus of Yes sir’s come through the com as you lean over him. His helmet is nearly cloven in half on the right side. Carefully you disengage the chin lock that seems to be the only thing keeping the two halves together at this point and separate them. You make sure not to let his head or neck move.

What you find under his helmet is gruesome to say the least. You can tell immediately there is nothing you can do to save the right eye. This is bad. One of the worst battlefield injuries you’ve ever seen. He’s in shock, but still breathing. You do what you can with what you have, apply steristrips to hold the wound closed,try to stop the bleeding and monitor his vitals to make sure he’s still breathing well enough on his own. You don’t know how much longer he can hold though, and you’re worried that the adrenaline will crash him and he’ll bleed out before help can arrive

“Cricket, where’s that medevac?” You bark into the com

“2 minutes out. Do you need assistance, Captain?” He responds

“Negative” you tell him “Get that evac team here, now”

2 minutes is a dangerously long time when a patient is unstable and in critical condition. He seems to be coming to a bit, becoming more aware of his surroundings. You don’t know what else you can do for him right now. You feel so helpless watching the monitor with his vitals like it will somehow make things better.

You try to stay in his limited field of view, if he can even see anything right now. Your own adrenaline from this whole ordeal is just beginning to taper.

“Wolffe?” You try to get his attention again, your voice a bit shaky.

To your surprise his lips move. He’s trying to say something. Your name maybe?

“Hey. Focus up” You tap your cheek, just under your eye to give him somewhere to focus his attention. His eye seems to focus on your face. At least he can hear your voice, and might be processing your words “Don’t you quit on me. You hear me? Don’t give up”

There’s a commotion down the hall. The medevac team has arrived. You direct them to get him on a spine board, and get him started on an IV. You didn’t give him a full body check on the scene, given that his direct trauma was more pressing. You perform one now and find that he appears to have no other injuries aside from his face.

Cricket and Cinder join you and the medevac team. “Captain, Ventress is gone, escaped on a shuttle. The confederate troops are receding” he Cinder tells you

“And the stones?” You ask, moving quickly with the medevac team

“Secured” Cricket confirms

“Good. Round up the lads and let’s get the hell out of here” you tell him

“Where are they taking the Commander?” Cricket asks, as you approach the medevac shuttle

“The closest medical frigate” you tell him “Meet us there”

“Yes sir” he and Cinder nod

With Wolffe loaded up on the transport and now having at least a few more medical supplies on hand, you and the medevac team start addressing his injuries more critically. You do your best to fill in the other medics with the knowledge you have on the situation, and direct them to start him on some antibiotics. They follow your orders diligently and confirm your previous suspicion that his eye is damaged beyond repair. But his facial structure can be saved if the surgical droids are prepped and ready when you arrive on the medical frigate.

You com ahead, letting them know what to expect to give him the best possible chance to pull through this. It occurs to you that this could be it. He could die. And you would have to mourn a teammate, again. But also a lover. And no one would ever be allowed to know about it. You can’t face that reality right now. All you can do is focus on him, right now. What is the next right step to save him?

If he lives… well he can’t continue on without two functioning eyes. You won’t let him be decommissioned or put on custodial duties for the rest of his days for something so trivial. Prosthetics are somewhat uncommon among GAR troopers. But you have an idea.

You step away from him and place a com call to your home planet. It connects and before the person on the other end can get in a greeting you start talking.

“Devlan. It’s me. I’m calling in that favor” you say curtly

There is a beat of silence on the other end of the line “You’re not fucking serious?”

“I am sending you coordinates and paperwork right now. Meet me on this medical frigate with whatever equipment you need. Save my patient and your debt to me is settled” you say “Unless you want me to—”

“No!” They cut you off “If I do this, we’re square? No more holding that shit over me?”

“A deal is a deal, Devlan. Save my patient, and you’ll never hear a word from me again. I promise” you’re nearly ready to beg, but you know you have to keep the authority and severity in your voice for this to work

“Alright, alright. I’ll be there. Send the coordinates” They relent.

By the time you hang up the com call, the shuttle is arriving. Wolffe is unloaded and swept away by a team of medical droids. If your plan works… and Wolffe holds out, this first procedure will save his face and his life. And if Devlan holds up his end of the deal, Wolffe will be fitted for a state of the art cybernetic eyepiece that Devlan has been developing and perfecting for the last seven years.

Now that Wolffe’s care is out of your hands, you finally slump into a chair and let your exhausted body rest. You pass out almost immediately in the waiting area. Hours later you blink awake and wince at how sore your muscles feel, and how bright the lights are. You look around and see the entire squad is also sitting in the waiting area, in various states of wakefulness. Some of them with bandages on their faces and arms.

Slush is passed out next to you, with his head leaned against yours in sleep. You look around at all of them. None seem too badly injured, but all look exhausted and worried. The only person who seems to be fully awake is Sinker. He notices you’ve woken up and shoots you a look.

“We won” he says dryly.

“That’s… good,” You say with a bit of a crackle in your voice

“Won’t be worth shit if Wolffe dies” he says, looking away

You want to say something like… “He’ll make it” or “He’ll be okay” but you can’t. You can’t even lie to yourself at this point. Because there is a chance he won’t pull through, and he will be gone.

You don’t want to think about what happens to battalions who lose their commander. You don’t want to think about what life will be like on this team without him. This team has finally come together and bonded as a group. This team feels more like a family than a military unit. You’ve already lost one member of this family. You can not bear to lose another.

Hours pass. Eventually the team starts waking up, and filling each other in on the rest of the mission. All of them are looking to you for answers about Wolffe. You tell them the truth, not wanting to keep anything from them.

“He was in pretty bad shape when we got there,” you start out, careful with your words.

“We have the broken halves of his helmet,” Comet says “I’m surprised he’s even alive.”

You nod “Right now, the surgical droids are working to clear away the tissue that can not be saved. And reconstruct part of his cheek bone,” you tell them. Most of them wince. “He’s going to lose the right eye.”

The room goes silent, but before any of them can panic you keep going.

“I did something… a bit unorthodox,” you admit “I called in a long overdue favor to get Wolffe into a program that’s in its final stages of beta testing before being released to the general population. He’s going to get a cybernetic eye.”

Their reactions range from relieved to confused. You’re about to elaborate further when a protocol droid comes into the room, calling your name and asking you to accompany it. You get up and follow it down a series of hallways to a recovery room.

You open the door and see your old pal Devlan standing by Wolffe’s bedside. You have to put on a brave face.

“Devlan,” you acknowledge them. They gives you an extremely displeased look.

“I was supposed to be giving a lecture on slow release bacta injections right now,” They say bitterly

“But instead you’re nobly saving this man’s life,” you shrug.

“No. Instead I’m settling my debt,” they say pointedly

“We’ll see about that,” you look down to Wolffe “How’s my patient?”

“Surprisingly resilient,” Devlan admits. “He’s stable, and the prosthetic seems to have integrated seamlessly. After a few weeks of physical therapy he won’t even know it’s there.”

“Good. Leave post op care instructions with me and a physical therapy referral, and I’ll consider us square,” you say cooly, though your heart is pounding in your chest

“Done.” They pull a prescription pad out of their jacket pocket, scribble down a referral notice and hand it to you. “Care instructions are already on the side table”

You take the prescription receipt and tuck it into your pocket quickly, “Thank you Devlan. I genuinely appreciate it.”

“Yeah yeah,” They roll their eyes. “Com me if there are any problems with the eyepiece. Other than that… no offense but please don’t com me.”

“No worries. I can take it from here,” you tell them. And with that Devlan walks right by you, going back to their life.

And with that the waiting game begins. You don’t know when he will wake up, but you want to be there for him when he does. There is no point in having the whole team wait around for that, so you give the orders for them to return to the base and await further orders from your or General Plo. The only person who remains with you is Slush, and it’s mostly so he can make repairs and modifications to the ship.

A full day passes, and it isn’t until late in the afternoon, the second day out of surgery, that he begins to show signs of waking up. You’ve basically set up camp in his recovery room, working on your data pad in the extra chair with a small mountain of disposable caf cups beginning to pile up in the waste bin beside you.

He looks okay for the most part now, except for the heavy bandage obstructing the right side of his face. You flip through the little packet of care instructions for the hundredth time, there’s nothing too groundbreaking about it but you are beginning to feel antsy and anxious. Little distractions like this do almost nothing to make you feel better, but it’s something.

He stirs, snapping you out of your haze. He pinches his eyes shut tight and groans. You sit up quickly and lean forward, holding his wrist.

“Commander?” You call out to him. “Commander Wolffe, can you hear me?”

He groans in pain, visibly wincing and holding back a whimper.

“Hey” You say softer, getting into his field of view.

“Doc?” He asks, clearly confused trying to open his eyes.

“It’s me,” you nod

“W-why can’t I see?” He asks, a note of panic in his voice.

“You’re injured,” You say calmly. “Can you remember anything?”

He winces again, speaking makes the right side of his head burn in a straight line down his face. He shakes his head.

“Why can’t I see?” He mutters with tight lips, trying not to move his face.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. It is so much harder to have these conversations with someone who means something to you.

“We were on Khorm,” You say gently. “Protecting those relic stones that function like batteries. Do you remember?”

He nods his head, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“Asajj Ventress was leading a platoon of confederation soldiers and droids…” Your voice cracks as you see a single tear form at the corner of his left eye and steak down the side of his face towards his ear. You can’t find your voice. He remembers. He knows.

“How bad is it?”

“The surgical droids repaired your cheek and brow bone,” you tell him “We couldn’t save your eye, but I—“

“You should have let me die,” His empty, cold voice cuts you off.

Your grip on his wrist stiffens. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

“I would have rather died a commander than be decommissioned and sent back to Kamino,” He doesn’t even sound angry, it’s just hollow.

You place a hand on his right shoulder and lean over him so you know he will be able to see you. “Look at me,” you say warmly. His brown eye opens, and peers at you. “You are not being decommissioned. I didn’t give up on you. We didn’t give up on you. Don’t you dare give up on yourself.”

He studies your face. Your beautiful face. Right now it’s impassively neutral but holding back a flood of other emotions. Relief he has survived. Disbelief at his apparent apathy for his own life. And something else, something he can’t place.

“Deformed and damaged clones don’t lead, Doc,” he shakes his head as best he can. “A one-eyed clone can’t command a battalion.”

“Well then it’s a damn good thing you aren’t a one eyed clone.”

“What are you talking about? You just said—“

“I said we couldn’t save your eye. You happen to be an extremely lucky man to have a fully bio integrated cybernetic eye piece donated to save your life,” you say.

“It doesn’t matter, Doc. I should have been a dead man a long time ago. Droid parts or not, I have no business leading or living anymore” He doesn’t even flinch.

The heavy mix of emotions swirl in your mind. You’re worried it’s about to bubble up and show on your face as frustration and anger. Or worse crying. You couldn’t stand it if you cried in front of him. You know better. You are better than this. He can not be blamed for his reaction to this severely traumatizing experience. But his preference for death over a chance at life, his willingness to throw away his squad, his brothers, you…. You can’t help the hurt forming as a pit in your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Commander, I trust that you will stay in this bed and rest until you’re discharged into my care. I need to go update your squad and superiors,” you say, excusing yourself to cool off.

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #Hiding In Plain Sight #Wolffe Pack #Wolf Pack

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restlessfandoming · 3 years

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"you, my enemy" (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine must assassinate the cruel king of Snezhnaya, Ajax.

i could see this being turned into a full fledged fic? but for now, here is the dollar store version LOL

[Masterlist] [AO3 Link]

"you, my enemy"

“I want you to kill the king of Snezhnaya.”

Lumine’s eyes flickered to her client. “King Ajax?”

“There is only one, is there not?” the hooded man responded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You must have the wrong person,” she said. “I do run-of-the-mill jobs. I don’t murder kings.”

“I was told you were the only mercenary who could do it.”

Lumine slid out of the bar booth. “Find someone else who is insane enough to do that. I value my life.”

The man’s arm shot out, grabbing Lumine by the wrist. She would have sliced it clean off, had the man not taken off his hood.

He had an unmistakable hue of scarlet red hair, with equally fiery eyes to match.

“You’re Diluc,” Lumine said. “The son of the slain King Ragvindr.” It’s never a good idea to get involved with royals.

His face wavered at the mention of his father. “And who was the one who murdered him?”

“King Ajax,” she answered. “That sounds like your own quest for vengeance. Not mine.”

Diluc pulled her closer. “Magic,” he whispered.

Lumine’s blood ran cold. “Magic?” she echoed hollowly.

“I’ve been trying to find the right person to do this for a long time,” he told her. “I had to do my research.”

“What does magic have to do with this?” Lumine asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You use magic,” Diluc stated. “That’s how you’ve completed every single one of your assignments perfectly.”

Magic had been banished long ago, a witch hunt massacring any and all magic users within the land of Teyvat. Each of the seven kingdoms had decreed it, agreeing that those with magic were too powerful—a threat to the people, all people.

Ever since, the rare few born with magical powers were forced to hide away their abilities for survival. I thought Aether and I hid it well enough.

“You do this, I won’t report you to the authorities,” Diluc continued.

“What about you?” Lumine hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead with the rest of your family.” She shook off his grip. “If I report you to King Ajax, there’s no doubt I’d get a hefty reward, more than you could ever give me for murdering him.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s any suspicion of a magic user, what sort of action do the authorities take?”

You’re killed on the spot—no questions asked. The kingdoms didn’t want to run any risk of magic users rising up, no matter how small of a threat.

“We would be executed at the same time,” Diluc said lowly.

Shit.

Lumine sat back down in the booth, sinking into the seat, gnawing on the side of her cheek. Then, she took a deep breath in.

“You’ll give me every single piece of Mora you have,” she demanded.

Diluc’s face visibly relaxed. “Of course.” He crossed his arms. “The hidden vaults of my family are all yours: every single jewel, Mora, artifact—when you complete the job.”

Lumine’s mouth nearly watered at the prospect of all the riches.

No, she wasn’t greedy. That amount of Mora meant she and her twin brother Aether could retire from this life, this life of scraping by with the money they made from bloody bounties and assassinations. It was the only job they could do, being abandoned as children, having to learn to fend for themselves.

This one job meant she and Aether could have quiet peace until the end of their days.

She held out her hand to Diluc.

“You have a deal.”

* * *

When Lumine arrives in Snezhnaya, she expects impoverished villages, famished citizens, and cold, desecrated lands—all while this merciless, vile king sat on his throne of bones and riches.

However, what she finds are bustling streets of business and cheerful citizens. Children played freely on the streets. The kingdom was thriving.

Is this king truly as evil as the stories say?

It hadn’t been long since King Ajax had begun his crusade of conquering the entirety of Teyvat. It had started with his brutal assassination of his own ruler at the time, the slaying of the late Tsaritsa, quickly followed by his claim to the throne. Then, he had taken over the small country of Mondstadt, and Liyue fell shortly after.

Any who opposed him would face the sharp end of a blade. The stories of him on the battlefield were whispers of blood soaked garments and a wicked smile as he slaughtered soldier after soldier with no remorse.

The image of this bloodthirsty monster faded as Lumine watched these citizens move around care free, as if they were unaware of the atrocities laying under their feet committed by their dear King Ajax.

Glancing up, she could see the distant looming monument, the grandiose castle of the king, looking over the land with a watchful stone eye.

She listened intently to the conversations around her, seeking any information about this Ajax, about how to get close enough to do her job.

She always wanted the most covert way, and now even more so. This was very much her highest profile case, and if she wasn’t careful, she could potentially start wars, with her murder being the first blood.

Perhaps the best way was to become some nondescript maid, someone’s whose presence and subsequent disappearance wouldn’t be questioned by any of the king’s allies. Perhaps as a chef? She could easily poison his food and silently slip away.

How she wished Aether was here with her. He was much more a strategist than she. Unfortunately, he had taken on a different job, far away in Inazuma. They would not see each other until both of their assignments were completed.

Lumine sighed, moving down the street, in search of a bar. Drunk bastards were always the best source of information: they didn’t know how to shut their mouths. In a bar, there were no figures too suspicious, and if there were, they would quickly be forgotten within a few pints of ale.

She pushed past vendors, until she was stopped by a brunette woman in a lavender robe.

“You are not from here,” she said with a breathy smile.

Singled out already? “I’ve only just recently moved here,” Lumine lied.

“Oh? For what reasons?” the woman pressed, her long eyelashes batting as she assessed Lumine head to toe. “Work?”

“No.” What was this woman’s motive? “I’ve heard Snezhnaya is a great country to live in.”

A content, pitched sigh. “Well, since you’ve just moved here, why don’t you come work for me? Outsiders earn a pretty penny.”

Lumine stared at her. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Ying’er. I’m in charge of a local performance troupe.” She stepped closer, and Lumine could smell her flowery perfume. “I would love to have you join us.”

“No, thank you,” Lumine told her, inching away. Sounds like a cheap cover for a brothel. “I’m not in need of a job right now.”

Ying’er pouted, but stepped back. “Alright then, sweetie.” She leaned on the doorway of her shop. “I’ll be right here if you decide to come back,” she finished with a wink.

Lumine gave a curt nod before slinking away, back to her search for a bar. She pulled the hood of her cape over her head, sticking to the shadowed walls on her walk. Do I really stick out that much here?

In the distance, she heard the subtle pounding of a drum, and watched, astonished, as the crowded streets parted straight down the middle. An eerie silence filled the previously buzzing plaza. Something was coming.

All the citizens had their heads bowed—Lumine quickly followed suit.

The booming of the drums came closer, and she heard the thunderous marching of armored boots layered into the sound. She glanced up.

There was an entourage of armored soldiers, an assortment of glistening weapons at their sides, escorting a decorated golden carriage.

King Ajax.

What was this? Was there some sort of special occasion taking place?

Much easier to find than expected.

The carriage rolled past. Lumine strained to look at the window while still keeping her head bowed.

Unfortunately, the window was curtained, a velvety red cloth obscuring any view of the king. Lumine wrinkled her nose in disappointment; she had wanted to see what she was up against.

The terrifying rumors of King Ajax never told of what he looked like. Lumine imagined a beastly figure, one with dark shaggy hair and sharp teeth, bones all jutting out in the wrong directions, filleted with raw scars all over.

The carriage continued to move past.

Could she do it? Could she use her magic to take him out right now? There certainly was a large number of people around, and all of them would be suspects; all the easier for her to get away.

However, the guards could easily murder everyone in the plaza if a perpetrator wasn’t found. And, as Ying’er so blatantly pointed out, Lumine didn’t exactly fit in with the Snezhayan citizens.

She would just have to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. Wait to learn more about King Ajax. Wait to plan the best way to kill him.

There was a rustle of murmurs as the citizens returned to their activities, the royal carriage and its guards wheeling out of sight—the air more tense than before.

Taking in a deep breath, she resumed her search.

I need a drink.

* * *

Lumine sat in the corner booth as always, the seat in the bar that could overlook the entire establishment, the place where she could easily see who entered and exited the building.

She sipped at her mug of ale: not enough to become inebriated, but just enough to take some of her stress away. She still listened intently for any utterances about King Ajax.

She kept her eye on a man who was chugging pint after pint of alcohol, complaining about his job, his kids, his wife.

Maybe he’ll complain about his king as well.

“God, I miss Mondstadt,” the man sighed.

Lumine raised a brow. Someone from the conquered land of Mondstadt? He should definitely harbor some resentment for King Ajax.

“Careful there,” the bartender muttered. “The king will have your tongue if you speak ill of him.”

The drunkard scoffed. “The king ain’t here, is he? Too busy with his parties and parades to ever come to a hole-in-the-wall bar.”

The bartender shrugged, silently wiping a glass.

“C’mon,” the man continued. “You don’t think it’s weird how he always invites those performers to the castle? What a dramatic man.” A hiccup. “You think he beds all of them?”

“Probably. Lots of women would want to sleep with the king”

“See, King Ragvindr never did things like that.” He laid his head on the counter. “A modest man. Genuinely cared about his people.”

“King Ajax cares for us. He provides—he’s made Snezhnaya wealthier than ever.”

“Hmph. Is that why he murders people in cold blood? Remember that man that got executed in the street for not bowing to him?”

“Just listen to him, and you’ll be fine.”

Lumine slid out of her booth, making her way to the exit, to a certain brunette woman with a lavender robe.

He likes performers.

A plan started to bubble in her mind as she walked the streets to Ying’er’s shop.

She would slip into the castle with the performance troupe. She would feign illness, seemingly leaving early, when in actuality, she would hide until all the guests had left. King Ajax would retire for the night, alone—and that’s when she would strike.

Lumine smiled, just a bit, confidence coming to her now that she knew what to do.

Her and Aether’s life of freedom felt like a breath away.

* * *

“You’ve certainly improved quite a lot,” Ying’er said, sauntering into Lumine’s quarters.

Lumine set her lyre down. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”

It had been a few weeks since Lumine had arrived in Snezhnaya, and became one of Ying’er performers. She had decided to learn an instrument—the lyre—while staying with Ying’er and the rest of the performers at the hostess’ establishment. She preferred it over becoming a poet or dancer.

Ying’er was right: many people came to watch Lumine sit prettily on stage and play her lyre—her face painted with make-up, and her body adorned with beautiful robes and gowns.

All the while, Lumine anxiously awaited the king’s invitation to their performance troupe. He had invited different groups all over town, though not Ying’er’s yet.

Was this plan a failure? Where was that damned man’s invitation—

“Is that what I think it is?” Lumine asked, eyeing the embellished envelope in her boss’ hand.

Ying’er hummed in affirmation. “The king has finally invited our group to perform at a party tonight.”

Finally. “What an honor,” Lumine said with a smile.

“Very much so.” Ying’er put her hand under Lumine’s chin, examining her face. “Yes...I will have you dressed in our best garments and make-up.”

The woman smiled. “After all, you are our pretty little star.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle was filled with the girls’ giggles and whispers, how they wished for the king to whisk them away into a life of riches and royalty, to be his beloved first wife. Lumine kept a hand pressed against her leg—ensuring the dagger hidden under her heavy robes wouldn’t fall out.

She didn’t like to get messy with such a close ranged weapon—she would usually just use her magic from a distance—but she wasn’t going to take a chance if something were to go awry.

As they neared the castle, everyone burst into gasps, admiring the massive stone structure. The excitement doubled as the dozens of other carriages came into view as well.

This is going to be one very extravagant party.

Before she knew it, Lumine was sitting in the great hall, along with the rest of the party goers, awaiting the king’s arrival. She saw the empty throne at the very front of the room, raised on a marble platform, his rightful place above his subjects.

A fanfare of brass instruments blared. The king is here.

The room collectively stood, bowing their heads as the king’s personal guards filed in. Lumine quirked her head to look for King Ajax.

Oh.

The king was not a hideous looking beast at all.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

He walked in, tall stature carrying an air of importance (and arrogance) on his shoulders with a billowing crimson red cloak, a broad grin plastered on his face. He was young, exactly around Lumine’s age.

He had reddish-brown hair framing his face, locks that glittered like gold in the light of the room, and his eyes were like vortexes—deep whirlpools of the bluest ocean water. All his features were sharp, upturned, like a cunning fox waiting contently to trap its prey.

She watched as he made his way up to his throne, a sickening anxiety spreading through her limbs.

Lumine had never killed anyone so close in age to her—it had always been older men and women. And, of course, she had never found herself attracted to her target.

“Please,” the king spoke, still grinning. “Have a seat.” As he sat on his throne, the rest of the room sat as well.

Lumine swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was light, playful even.

Was that truly the murderous king of Snezhnaya?

“A toast, to you, my people,” he said, raising a golden goblet. “Let the festivities begin.”

Lumine gulped down her own glass of wine, then shook her head.

I’m here for a job. Not romance.

The room filled with chatter, and Ying’er motioned to Lumine and the rest of the musicians to the corner where they would be performing their music for the night.

Lumine gathered her lyre, shuffling towards her spot in her heavily layered robes. Her mouth was set in a taut line.

A momentary lapse in judgement.

As she played the first few notes, her eyes flickered to the king, who was busy greeting various nobles at his throne. She narrowed her eyes at him, at that sly, sly smile on his face.

It won’t happen again.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on forever. After what seemed like an eternity of playing music for the room—as other patrons ate and danced and conversed—the musicians were finally taking a break.

Lumine delightfully chewed through expensive meats and breads as various actors, dancers, and poets took the floor in front of King Ajax to present their pieces.

The king seemed to be entertained, joining on some of the performances himself.

That drunkard from the bar was right. King Ajax was quite dramatic, inserting himself into the spotlight whenever he so pleased. How pretentious.

The crowd clapped and cheered as another performance was brought to an end, an air of boisterous chatter resuming. Lumine swallowed her last piece of food, making her way to Ying’er.

Time to get started.

“Ying’er,” Lumine called to her boss, clenching her side. “I feel a bit sick.”

The brunette woman raised a brow. “You were looking quite well before.”

“Yes, it was very sudden,” Lumine responded, turning to the exit. “I think I will just head back now.”

“So soon, dear? We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the king yet.”

Lumine was already on her way out. “I’ll see you back at the shop.”

She slipped past the guards patrolling the halls, ducking into the nearest empty room, a storage closet of sorts. Perfect.

She hiked her long robes up, unsheathing her dagger, cutting away at the garments. Sorry, Ying’er. But I can’t fight in this. She threw the discarded fabric in a dark corner, where they would be forgotten about.

She slid the knife back into its sheath, and cracked the door open the tiniest bit—enough to watch the entrance into the great hall.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Lumine would have fallen asleep had it not been for the two guards who stopped to converse right outside her door. Within a matter of seconds, Lumine had gone from sleepily nodding off to firmly clenching her weapon in her hand, nerves buzzing on high alert.

“That party dragged on forever,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know how King Ajax does it. Isn’t he exhausted every night?”

“Not sure. He seems to enjoy it.”

“He’s been gone a while now. Should we check on him?”

Lumine tightened her grasp on her dagger. He was gone?

“No. He likes to be alone at night. He’ll kill you if you interrupt him.”

“Oh...Should we just go to the other side of the castle then? So we don’t...interrupt him?”

“...Sounds like a good idea.”

The sound of their footsteps faded, and Lumine dared a peek out the door to scope out the hallway.

There were no other guards, and the boisterous sounds of the party were long gone.

Lumine slid out of the closet, sneaking down the hall, starting her search for King Ajax.

Sounds like he’s still here somewhere. Alone.

This job was getting easier and easier.

Too easy.

* * *

Please be in this room.

There was a great stone door before her, one she had come to after a mind-numbingly exhaustive search through the entirety of the large castle. She pushed on the door, as slowly and as quietly as possible, then looked in.

She nearly cried out in relief.

Sitting in the middle of the room was King Ajax, his back turned to her.

He was completely silent, unmoving, in this empty stone room. Was he asleep? No, it looked more like meditation.

Lumine slinked in, silently, conjuring the elemental energy of the wind in the room.

She would take every bit of air out of his body. Quick, quiet, no mess. It was the method she had always used.

She closed her eyes to focus, feeling the pull of air from his lungs.

He was going to die, and she was going to be free, free with her brother—

WHOOSH!

Lumine opened her eyes just in time to see Ajax rush towards her.

His hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her into the ground. All of the breath in her body hissed out of her, and she clawed at his hand.

“Who are you?” he growled.

She stopped prying at his hold, quickly yanking out her dagger, and slashing at his face.

He dodged, forcing him to loosen his grip on her.

She slashed again at his hand, throwing herself away from him as he recoiled in pain. She rubbed at her neck, gasping for breath. The king was looking at the gash across his fingers.

Shitshitshit.

Lumine quickly focused her energy on the earth below, trying to create shackles out of stone to hold him in place, or to just bury him alive.

The ropes of earth sprang out of the ground. His eyes flickered to the coils as they rushed for him.

Yes!

But then a swirling mass of water appeared, engulfing him, destroying the chains in the process.

What—?!

A sharp stream of water shot out from the bubble, coiling around Lumine before she could react. She was pulled to the ground, bound, and unable to move.

The bubble of water dissipated, and Ajax stepped out, eyes ablaze. He approached Lumine.

“Who are you?” he asked again, less angry, more inquisitive.

She strained against the chains of water, her elemental energy unable to rid them. She locked eyes with him. “You’re a magic user.”

He squatted next to her. “You are too,” he responded, the smallest ghost of a smile on his lips. He took her dagger into his hands, weighing it. “Now, why were you trying to kill me?”

Lumine bit her cheek. No, she couldn’t sell Diluc out; he could still get Aether killed.

“That’s how you conquered Mondstadt and Liyue so easily. You used magic,” she pushed, ignoring his question. “That’s forbidden.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping his bloodied hand on her robes. “And yet, here we are, two magic users in one room.” He pointed the dagger at Lumine’s neck. “Tell me why you were trying to kill me, before I make it only one. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Lumine said. “I’m a magic user. That threatens your power, doesn’t it?”

Ajax studied her for a second, pulling the dagger back, just a bit. “True.” He tilted his head. “But I’ve never actually met another magic user before.”

She averted his intense gaze. “So what are you going to do? Keep me alive and experiment on me?”

“No.” He stood. “How about this...in exchange for sparing your life, you become my student.”

…

What?

“You mean learn magic from you?” Lumine glared at him. “How do you know I won’t kill you in the future?”

“You won’t,” he said. “This murder attempt? Wasn’t personal—you tried to kill me from a distance. Someone must have sent you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing the hilt of the dagger. After some shaking, it disintegrated into dust.

“Also, you can’t kill me,” he continued, opening his eyes. “You’re severely untrained. You saw how easily I subdued you.” A small smile. “All the more reason to learn from me.”

Maybe this was the gods taking mercy on Lumine. Ajax didn’t kill her right away; she had a chance to live, to get back home to Aether.

“What’s in it for you? This only seems to benefit me,” she said to Ajax.

He hummed, thinking. “A potentially powerful weapon,” he responded, eyes glinting.

Maybe, once she learned more magic, she could overtake him, and complete her job.

She locked eyes with him.

“You have a deal.”

The ghost of those words burned bitter on her tongue.

* * *

Lumine nearly died the next morning.

“You did what?!” she gasped out, after deathly choking on a part of her breakfast.

She was currently sitting across from Ajax in his elegant dining room, who had just informed her that he had announced their marriage.

He leaned back in his chair. “A random new woman living in the king’s castle? Bound to raise many rumors,” he said, nonchalant. “This way, there are no rumors, and we can train without being questioned.”

Lumine worried her lip. He has a point.

“I don’t—We don’t have to...do anything in public, do we?” she asked.

“No.” He smirked. “Unless you want to, pretty girl.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.” Here for a job, not romance, she reminded herself, no matter how handsome this cocky bastard is. Not to mention, she still planned to kill him.

And so, Lumine’s days were filled with training, pretending to the servants and maids she was King Ajax’s fiancée. She was trapped, as Ajax reminded her many times that if she tried to leave, he would swiftly execute her.

She learned more about him, as much as she didn’t want to. She saw that he did really care for his people, and provided for them as best he could—though he wasn’t above using his power to strike down those in his way, whether it was an enemy or a citizen who simply disrespected his reign.

And that was ultimately what he wanted: power. To have power over everyone in the land of Teyvat. He had endless ambition—Lumine could credit him that much.

Some days, she caught herself imagining it as well: a world she could rule over, have everyone bend to her will, set the laws so people like her and Aether could live without fear, and be provided for. In some ways, she could relate to Ajax’s desires. In some ways, she could justify his methods.

It very much disgusted her, at first. But then, it was liberating. To have someone who could understand the darker sides to her being, understand the blood on her hands.

Even Aether could never fully understand her. How part of her was always glad to be given magical powers to defend herself and those she cared about. How part of her enjoyed her current situation.

After all, she was living lavishly, compared to the impoverished life she had before. She had every meal provided for, luxuriously, and a soft bed to lay in every night. No threat of the authorities finding out about her powers and murdering her.

Could she perhaps bring Aether here?

Ajax had spared her—was it too much of a stretch to believe he would spare her twin as well?

If Aether could be brought here, she wouldn’t have to kill Ajax. She wouldn’t have to kill perhaps the only person in Teyvat that knew who she truly was.

* * *

“If you found another magic user,” she asked Ajax over dinner, “would you train them as well?”

Ajax took a sip of wine from his goblet. “No.”

“...No?”

A small smile, a slight flash of his canines. “I can’t have my weapons outnumbering me, now can I?”

Lumine’s mouth went dry. “If you won’t train them...what would you do with them?”

“Kill them.” He set the cup down. “They would be a threat.”

“I’m not a threat?”

Ajax barked out a laugh. “No, Lumine. No, you are not.”

Ah.

So she and Aether couldn’t be together here. Aether was still in danger of being outed by Diluc.

“Why?” Ajax questioned. “Are you lonely here?”

“I’m trapped in your castle. What do you think?”

He rested his head on his hand. “My bed is open at night, if you’d like.”

Lumine drove her knife through her food. “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh, Lumine, it’s just banter,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t think we’re friends? I quite like your company.”

She pursed her lips, staying silent.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Ajax stared right at her. “I see you while we train. You like it here. You like becoming more and more powerful.”

He leaned over the table. “You and I are very similar.” He smiled. “There’s a hunger in your eyes. You want exactly what I have.”

Lumine stood abruptly. “We are nothing alike,” she spat uselessly. He sees right through me.

“I told you, you don’t have to lie to me,” Ajax responded, sitting back in his chair. “We are already married. We could rule together—as partners.”

...What?

“I thought I was your weapon.” Her knuckles were white from clutching the edge of the table.

“Partner if you so choose.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Weapon if not.”

What game is he playing? “There has to be some sort of catch.” He was essentially offering her his power as king, even if it was just partially.

“No catch,” he said. “Like I said, if you refuse, you’ll just continue your little life of entrapment, as my weapon.”

“One of these options is obviously better than the other.”

Ajax laughed, genuinely, his expression softening, just a bit. “I guess one is.”

She gave him a look, quizzical, before swiftly leaving the room, his proposal still hanging in the night.

As the guards escorted her back to her room, she played the conversation over and over again in her mind.

Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad as King Ajax’s consort, his companion through his crusade of Teyvat?

He was right: part of her deep down ached for that kind of power.

But joining Ajax meant sacrificing her dear brother.

The aching desire hissed, Is that a sacrifice you are going to make?

* * *

The castle’s stone floors were freezing on Lumine’s feet as she traversed through the halls barefoot. No shoes meant no sound. No sound meant she could surprise the guards, getting the upper hand to take them out. Already, there was a trail of dead guards behind her as she passed through the corridors, the air stripped from their lungs.

Her sheer white nightgown fluttered around her as she dashed about, and in the dim moonlight waning through the windows, she thought herself a ghost, an angel of death. She was on a path she could not stop.

She knew exactly where he was. After spending so many days trapped here, of course she knew where the king’s quarters were.

She knew him like clockwork: what days he would stay up in his study, what days he would retire to his chambers and when. She knew where his guards were, when they would switch patrols, when their protection would be the weakest.

And when it came time, she stood outside of his door, wavering on the spot slightly.

She shook her head, trying the door. Locked.

Taking a breath in, she rapped her knuckles on the hardwood.

She heard rustling beyond the heavy oak door, her heartbeat picking up. She would have to get in there quick, before he looked behind her and saw his guards missing.

The door swung open, a flash of anger on Ajax’s face until he saw who it was.

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “Ah, Lumine, to what do I owe the pleasure—”

Lumine stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

She could feel him go rigid under her touch. She walked him backwards, further into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot.

As the door shut, he broke away from her. “Are you accepting my proposal?” he whispered, his hands clutched around her arms.

Lumine nodded, going for another kiss, arms slinking around his shoulders. This time, he melted into her touch, pulling until he was under her on his bed.

He fell for it.

Pity crept into her heart. From the way he breathed her in, the way he held her in his arms, there was a softness she had never seen from him.

He loved her.

She was his weapon, and now, his greatest weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

His eyes opened, those ocean eyes on her as she pulled the air from his lungs with ease.

You shouldn’t have trained me.

His hand reached for her throat, but went to his own as he gasped and choked.

She wrapped her own hands around his, pressing down. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face.

He thrashed wildly, and she repeated I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorry over and over again until he went still under her.

…

...

She opened her eyes, the world blurry around her. She wiped away the tears pooling in her vision, and looked down at Ajax.

He was unmoving, eyes glazed over, arms limp at his side.

Lumine reached for his throat, hand shaking, fingers checking for a pulse.

He’s dead.

She scrambled off of him, crumbling into a ball on the floor.

I killed him.

Her breathing was uneven—she was the one gasping for breath now as uncontrollable sobs racked through her body.

I am so sorry, Ajax.

* * *

“Lumi?”

Lumine turned to see Aether looking at her with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A breeze rustled by. Lumine turned back to look over green fields that stretched as far as she could see.

“I’m okay,” she responded.

“Okay,” he repeated. He smiled a bit, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Diluc’s hawk came this morning. He sends warm wishes to us both.”

After the assassination of King Ajax, Lumine decreed Snezhnaya a freed country, a country with no ruler, and returned the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue back to their rightful heirs. Diluc, now the restored king of Mondstadt, gave Lumine and Aether the riches he promised, and a home deep in the countryside for the peaceful life they so desperately wanted.

But sometimes Lumine had nightmares of Ajax.

She would be sitting next to him, on their thrones as the King and Queen of Snezhnaya. Sometimes, little princes and princesses of theirs would be running around as well.

They would have conjured all of Teyvat together.

They would have loved each other.

Lumine would wake up, tears in her eyes, heart heavy with desire for that life.

And then she would cry because her life would never be peaceful ever again.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

Text

(Clone Wars) Fives x Reader: My Star

(Author’s Note: What a week. I’ve tested positive for coronavirus and am under quarantine. The last few days were soooo frustrating because I had all this time to write, but felt too crappy and drained of energy to produce anything! Well, today I finally made something happen, and I hope to write some more in the next week or so depending on when they summon me back to work.

This fic had me sitting here with a dopey smile on my face, so I hope you enjoy it)

You snuck a glance over your shoulder, ensuring that no one from camp was following. The evening was relatively quiet except for the occasional chatter of troops. It was getting late, so some were starting to turn in for the night. The glow of campfires shone around the boulders that were scattered across the stony ground behind you.

The air held a chill that would have caused you to shiver if not for your cloak. You pulled the dark material tighter around your form as a cold breeze moved through. It wasn’t long before you reached your destination, a small clearing that was just far enough away from camp to not be spotted. Just as you set foot in the space, a shadow on the right caught your eye.

The familiar presence filled your senses, and you smiled.

He was right in front of you, raising a gloved hand to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger gently. “There’s my favorite jedi,” he murmured.

“Fives.” You reached up to take his other hand in your own as you met his affectionate gaze that was complemented by a warm smile. “You’re here early.”

“So are you,” he pointed out, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“Hm, me too.”

“It felt like we’d never get this...to finally be alone again.” He pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your lips, making you melt into his embrace. “Although I have to say it’s nice to be on a campaign with you.”

“True,” you agreed. “It’s better than being on the other side of the galaxy wondering and worrying.” You leaned in to kiss Fives again, sighing as he returned it. Both of you were reminded of those times you had missions apart, and it made this moment all the more special as he held you so tightly. His ARC trooper armor wasn’t the most comfortable, but you couldn’t care less.

“I brought you something,” you told him, pulling away to reach into the pocket of your robe. You showed him a bundle wrapped in preservative paper. Even though the baked treat wasn’t hot from the oven anymore, it still carried a delightful scent. “I thought it would be a nice change from the usual rations.”

Fives’ eyes lit up and he unraveled the baked treat to inhale its scent. “Where did you get this?”

“There was a stand selling these on Coruscant. I picked one up before we shipped out.”

He took a seat on a nearby boulder, patting the empty space beside him. “Split it with me?”

“I brought it for you, Fives.”

He gave you a playful nudge as you sat down next to him. “It’d make me feel better if you had some too.”

“Alright, alright. Just a piece.”

He took the first bite, sighing at the flavor. The look on his face was rather priceless, and you tried to conceal your giggle with your sleeve. Of course, the realization that he amused you only fueled him even more. He shot you a sideways look and took another bite, letting out an exaggerated groan that caused you to burst into laughter.

“What?” He feigned innocence as he mumbled through a mouthful of the sweet bread.

“You are something else, Fives.” You chuckled and leaned over to take a bite.

“But you love me for it.”

“That, I do.” You leaned against his side, eyes fluttering closed as you exhaled. Sounds of the night around you flooded your ears. Chirps and pebbles being scattered on the rocky ground with each breezy gust sounded. Fives had finished the snack and was simply enjoying your company. You focused on each relaxed breath he took, the chest plate of his armor rising and falling gently.

“You know,” he spoke up. “I’ve been in space so many times. Been on so many planets. I never get tired of looking at the stars.”

You glanced up to see his face lifted toward the night sky. You followed his gaze to admire the dark canvas decorated with twinkling lights. He was right. No matter how many times you’d seen them, they never got old.

“There are so many out tonight.”

He hummed in agreement. “I’m lucky. I’ve got one sitting right next to me.” He looked back down at you, lips quirking up in that charming smile of his as your cheeks grew warm. You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you merely leaned up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. You pulled away to take in his tender expression before pressing your lips to his again. His gloved hand trailed along your jawline to the back of your neck to draw you closer, sighing when you responded.

“Fives,” you breathed against his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. I was going to say something cute, but forgot.”

You felt him smirk and stroke your cheek with his thumb. “Come on, you didn’t forget. Let’s hear it.”

You chuckled, lowering your head a bit in embarrassment. “I was going to say that you’re my star and I never get tired of looking at you.” Finally, you lifted your eyes a bit to see him grinning back at you. “I know, I know. I tried.”

“That was a good one,” he offered. His tone would’ve been more convincing if that cheesy grin wasn’t still plastered on his face. Still, there was no missing the look of endearment in his eyes as you tried to hide your face in his shoulder again. “No, really, that was sweet.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

He tipped your chin up, the grin replaced by a softer look. You pressed a kiss to the patch growing on his chin before meeting his lips once more.

For a while, the two of you talked about different things. The mission at hand was the subject of conversation for only a few minutes before you moved on to other topics like some of the cultures you’d visited and foods you’d tried. You shared funny stories and listened in amusement as Fives shared some of the mischief he’d witnessed in the barracks with pranks and whatnot.

The night grew colder, and soon it would be time to get some sleep. You didn’t want the time to end, but eventually troops might notice his or your absence and ask questions. You’d still get to sit across from Fives at one of the campfires and see him, but it wouldn’t necessarily be the same.

“We should head back,” he whispered, planting a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, we should.” You nodded. “This was fun.”

“Sure was.”

A groan left your lips as you stood to your feet, your rear cold and achy from sitting on the boulder for so long. You stretched and watched as Fives did the same.

His gloved hand went to your waist to pull you in for a final kiss, but you held onto him tighter and returned the token of affection with eagerness. The spark flared up as he then moved his lips against yours over again. Finally, he pulled away, breathless.

“You make it so hard to leave,” he chuckled.

You gave him a peck on the cheek. “Well, so do you.”

Both of you separated, and Fives stepped aside to let you return to camp first. He’d follow shortly after to not raise any suspicion. As you went back the way you came, you stole a glance over your shoulder and blew a kiss at the ARC trooper who stood watching to make sure you made it back safely.

“Hey ________,” Echo’s voice made you jump the moment you entered camp.

“Oh, hey Echo. You startled me.”

He gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was just wondering if you’ve seen Fives?”

“I just saw him. He should be around here somewhere.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly admitting that you’d had a secret meeting with said trooper. The answer seemed to be enough for Echo because he simply gave a nod and continued on his way.

Moments later, Jesse waved you over from a group of troops sitting around the campfire talking. Some had fallen asleep, but some still sat and watched the glow. It must’ve been later than you thought. You greeted them with a smile and gratefully took a seat amongst them. While Hardcase filled you in on the conversation, you saw Fives talking to Echo out of the corner of your eye.

You were careful to not let your gaze linger and instead turned your attention back to Hardcase. Even though it was another ordinary night for the others in the GAR, it wasn’t for you. You still heard the whispers, felt the kisses, and breathed in his scent. They would be with you during the day and would even chase you into your dreams.

#clone wars #clone wars reader insert #clone wars x reader #clone wars fives #clone wars fives x reader #clone wars fives reader insert #arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #star wars the clone wars fives #fives x reader #fives imagine #arc trooper fives imagine #fives x you #arc trooper fives x you #clone wars x you #fives x y/n #arc trooper fives x y/n

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

heart+head(ache), m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Like the seasons, the highs and lows come and go. Unlike the seasons, the lows are unpredictable and multiplicative, because life is not just one aspect, but many. If there's one person that can be your heart, it's Min Yoongi. If there's one person that can occupy your head, it's Jeon Jungkook.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; fluff / comfort, then PWP; smut (fem reader, nipple play, scratching / marking, fingering, hair-pulling, penetrative sex); softdom!Jungkook

this series has always been the personification of Yoongi and Jungkook as my muses. therefore it's not really a story, but rather a glimpse into my emotional state at the time it was written (about two weeks ago). I thought about not posting it, but, hey, you can choose to read it or not. I don't expect anyone to read it, tbh.

heartspace!Yoongi - his POV

"Leave me alone."

He sat down, silent, beside the hunched form.

"I can't take it anymore."

The only light came from the desk above them, the laptop screen blaring brightly in the darkness.

"I want to go back to the way it was."

He reached up and touched her knuckles, rubbing his fingertips over them.

"Back when no one knew I existed. Back when no one wanted to get in my head."

Over the silver rings, tracing reach one, decoration and armor, mirroring the outward self that protected the one inside. The fragile one that hid from the outside world. She let him see the fragility in this space, but only in this space. Her nails dug into her skin, tearing it up from the outside as the thoughts inside tore her to shreds.

"I don’t want these wings. I don’t want to fly high."

He waited, quietly, saying nothing, hand on hers. In this space, it was only him and only her.

The heart and the heartless.

"I don’t want to be in this light..."

Her eyes found his and he looked back, into shadowed orbs clouded from struggling for far too long and would continue to do so until she was no more. That was the way of the world, persistent and hurtful for no reason at all.

Time heals all wounds, but some wounds are blind to time, stagnant and frozen.

"I don't know the difference between pretending and not pretending anymore," she whispered, so quietly that he had to strain to hear.

He finally spoke, squeezing that thin hand gently.

"In some ways, they're the same thing for you, aren't they?"

She looked at him for a long, long time.

He lifted his hand from hers and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“You are with me,” he murmured. “And with me, you can be anything.”

This face hid behind smoke and mirrors. This face didn’t trust the world and trusted their own reflection even less. The world could pretend to know, but the reality was the depth of the scars was much deeper than anyone could ever fathom and this mind was unlike anyone else’s, too creative for its own good, producing new and intricate tortures for the one that lived within it. Only here, in this space, did he have a glimpse. Even then, he wasn’t sure he would ever see all of it, because that wasn’t necessary and because some shadows should stay in the dark where they belong.

"I can't be like them, Yoongi."

Min Yoongi shook his head.

"They're ordinary. You're special."

"I'm not."

"You know you are, otherwise no one would find solace in knowing you exist."

He held her face in his hands.

"Nameless, faceless, and yet... they flock to the safety of you."

He leaned forward, forehead to forehead.

"Who else can say that? No one. Not even me. Everyone knows my face now."

Into dark, dark eyes full of pain, reaching in, shouldering the weight so it was a little lighter, a little less heavy. He didn’t need to know the reason for the weight. It was there, and so he assisted.

"They'll never know the one I know."

A little despair, a little helplessness, all her.

"I'll never know the one you know."

He kissed her, softly, whispering her name and his love.

“If you think you can’t feel, then I will feel for you. If you ever feel like you don’t have a heart, know that I will be yours. Trust me.”

“Can I?” she breathed against his lips, eyes closed, lost in his taste.

Yoongi chuckled, running his hands through her hair, breathing in the scent of sweet matcha marshmallow, deeper, richer, warmer now that it was soaked into her skin, smooth and soft under his fingertips. She was like that. Everything she touched became more vivid, more alive, more real, even if it was only a fantasy.

“Of course. You are with me.”

He pulled her into his hold, into his lap, both of them still on the floor, cradling her at her lows so he could raise her at her highs.

“However long you need, one day, one week, one month, a year, until the end of time… I will be whatever role you need me to be. Obsession, possession, enemy, protector, muse, lover, one of them or all of them,” he murmured softly, lips on her temple, hand on the left side of her ribcage, cradling that rapid rhythm under his fingertips.

It was easy to say, don’t think about anyone else, but much harder to do so, and thus he didn’t say it. There was no need to. She already knew. That’s why she had retreated in the first place, retreated to the safety of his heart and blocked out the outside world.

“They are but visitors and they should be grateful to visit.”

Her fingers twisted into his shirt, clutching the fabric tightly.

“But I am, can, and will be everything you need, if you let me.”

She spoke into his neck, her hot breath wafting over his skin.

“You already are, Yoongi. You already are.”

They stayed like that, for a long, long time.

headspace!JK - reader's POV

You opened your bedroom door to find Jeon Jungkook laying on your bed.

His dark brown eyes shifted to you.

You looked away and closed the door.

“Where have you been?”

Every time. Every time you heard his smooth, silvery voice, you were reminded of home, even if he wasn’t always here. Then again, home was never a place to you. Like a permanent resident, Jungkook always managed to find his way to your bed and you, well, you resided with his voice.

“Who knows,” was your answer.

Because, in truth, you didn’t know.

Jungkook tilted his head, pink lips slightly parted. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He sat up, watching you, black strands brushing against his dark brows. There was a slight furrow to them, somewhere between disbelief and inquisition. White t-shirt, blue jeans. He hadn’t been here long, otherwise he would have given up on the jeans. His eyes followed you, resting his right arm on his knee, black tattoos standing out against the light wash of the jeans and white-shirt, tan skin the perfect background for them. With the red eyeball tattoo, perhaps it was more accurate to say that three eyes were observing you.

You stood beside the bed but didn’t get on it.

Jungkook let out a soft sigh, the side of his lips quirking up ruefully. “If I was hyung, I would say the right words.” He frowned slightly, chewing on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing into view, a soft kiss from the moon, perfectly placed in the middle. “He always knows what to say.”

You could almost hear that gentle, deep voice murmuring to you, hand on your chest, right above the rapid rhythm below his palm.

You always say it’s nothing when it’s something you know no one will understand.

Jungkook placed his chin on the back of his hand and looked up, catching your eye and pulling you from your thoughts with his voice.

“I don’t know what to say, but I can make you feel.”

You looked back, but still didn’t get on the bed.

“You cut your hair.” It was to his ears now, still black, just shorter.

“Mhm.” He smiled. “Do you not like it?”

You chuckled dryly. “You could be bald, Jungkook, and you would still look good.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Someday I’ll show up like that and then I’ll know if you’re telling the truth.”

You didn’t laugh or banter back, settling into silence instead. He noticed right away. His features softened and he raised his other hand to beckon you to him.

You didn’t move.

His lips formed to the words and you could tell he meant them because he maintained eye contact, not letting you avoid his gaze.

“I missed you.”

Where have you been?

You placed your hands on the bed, fingers spread, silver rings glinting in the light, lighting each and every one, all except your left pinky. You still hadn’t found the perfect one for that one yet. The three silver necklaces you wore clinked together as you crawled to Jeon Jungkook, mind full of thoughts that fell away one by one, replaced by the sight, sound, smell of Jungkook, tongue remembering his taste, skin prickling, remembering his touch.

“I could have distracted you,” he whispered, leaning forward.

“I wasn’t the best version of myself,” you whispered back, the dull ache of intangible weight pressing down on your ribcage. “I couldn’t see you like that.”

He lifted his right hand from his knee and reached around your head, burying his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer to that face and those eyes, sharp and defined with an endearing softness, lashes lowering, inhaling your scent, lustful satisfaction clouding his gaze as he once again recognized that you had changed it from that spiced, warm chestnut to a heady matcha marshmallow.

“You know,” Jungkook breathed, tugging you to him, his lips brushing against yours. “I am here for all versions of you, good or bad, sad or mad, fallen apart or all in one piece.”

His teeth nipped your lips and your breath caught your throat, knowing he was making you wait, curling his fingers in your hair to hold your head in place.

In this space, with him.

“If your head is full of me, there’s no space for the other thoughts.”

“That’s not how it works, Jungkook.”

“That’s how I want it to work.”

His lips captured yours, firm, intense, hand pulling you to him and his hard body, surrounding you in his embrace, your gasp in his mouth as he pressed you to his chest, pinning you down, forearms flexing against the small of your back, your hands coming up to steady yourself on his shoulders, digging your nails into the thin fabric of the t-shirt. You shivered in his hold, eyes opening slightly, not realizing they had closed, and his were open too, filtered by his lashes.

“I don’t want to go back out there,” you said, so softly that the words didn’t seem real.

“Then don’t,” Jungkook whispered. “Stay with me.”

“You’re not good for me.”

“They’re worse.”

He spread his legs and put you in his lap. You could feel the texture of his jeans through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts, thighs on top of his, softness to hardness. His fingers traced the lapel of your pajama shirt and the red piping, smiling at the print, little red devil heads making various faces against the black jersey fabric.

“You’re insufferable.”

The small smile lifted and now it was yours, turning into a smirk. “Yeah, but you love me.”

You stared into those eyes, that face, trapped in his arms, his body, his voice, his sound, everything just Jeon Jungkook, and the hesitation remained. You felt his hand shift, raising, fingertips brushing your cheek, sending shivers up your neck and to his electric touch.

“I couldn’t come back because it didn’t feel right.”

His hand lowered, cradling the side of your neck, thumb stroking your jaw.

“What about now?” Jungkook asked, silvery and sweet.

You told the truth, because the truth was eating away at you.

“I don’t know.”

He turned his head and leaned in, inhaling your exhale, eyes closing.

“I’ll help you know.”

His kiss.

I want to be your everything.

He made you memorize the shape of his lips, made you memorize the weight of his hands, made you memorize the curve of his shoulders and chest, pushing you down on the bed, your hands sliding down and pressed to his chest, palm to his heavy heartbeat, hungry kisses and fleeting tongue teasing you, the lower half of his body pinning yours down. Heavy. Inescapable. You tried to move away to speak but he caught your lips, pulling your back, his left hand peeling your right off his heart and interlocking his fingers with yours, slamming it down on the sheets, his right snaking in between your bodies, undoing the buttons one by one. You cried out into his mouth and he lifted his head, black hair messy, breathing hard.

“J-Jungkook…”

His lips were dark, swollen from kissing you so fiercely, irises shadowed and pupils expanded.

“This is how it should be, with you saying my name like that.”

You glared at him, but he simply chuckled, diving back down again, lips attacking your neck, kisses and bites that made your breath hitch, clutching fistfuls of his shirt, and it didn’t matter, it simply didn’t matter anymore, too many outside thoughts when you could just have Jungkook invading your head, clawing the hem of his shirt upward, digging your nails into his back and his soft skin, his moans on yours, tongue dancing up your trembling throat, biting that space right behind your right ear, your pulse roaring under his lips and your name in his throat, no distractions., only Jungkook.

“My mark belongs all over you,” he growled possessively.

Your nails dragged down his broad back and his hips bucked into yours, his oppressive force and weight a welcome one. You didn’t respond. A single dark brown orb watched your face, smirk against your earlobe. No response needed because Jungkook could see it in your expression and the way you held him, violent but desperate, needing him more than anyone or anything else in this world right now.

“Someday,” he murmured teasingly.

“In your dreams,” you shot back, finding your voice.

“They’re all about you.”

He sat up, thighs straddling you, crossing his arms and pulling up his white t-shirt in one swift stroke, tossing it aside. His lips curved into a sly smile, seeing you bite your lip and narrow your eyes to hide your breathlessness at his muscular and toned torso, the black tattoos of his right arm rippling as he leaned down again, his large hands next to your head, smirk dancing above your face.

“Just like how yours are all about me.”

You didn’t look away. “They’re not.”

Neither did he. “They will be.”

You clicked your tongue.

Unfazed, unbothered, unwise, you pulled Jungkook down to you, closing your eyes, his fresh scent filling your nose, lips on your skin, murmuring, so sweet, so delicious, kissing your collarbones, pushing your shirt off and reaching around you, forcing you to yank your pajama shirt off to avoid getting tangled in it and your unhooked bra, already moving on, lips wrapping around your hard nipple and you felt his eyes on you, opening yours to see his smirk and his tongue flicker, pulses of desire clawing through you, all because of Jungkook.

“What?” you managed to get out, sucking in a breath as his hand came up, fingertips pushing the other hard nub, watching your expression with his tongue extended.

“You belong under me, like this, enjoying everything I do to you,” he murmured, lapping slowly, not enough but still too much with the visual included.

“S… Stop looking at me like that.”

He shook his head slowly, your name falling from his lips, black hair brushing over his brows. You stiffened as his hand slid under the waistband of your shorts, under the thin fabric of your panties, long fingers dancing closer and closer to your heated, dripping core.

“If I look away, you might disappear from me again.”

You were lost, lost in the feeling of Jeon Jungkook.

Brown eyes ensnaring you, drowning your senses with his sensations.

“I can’t have that.”

His lips wrapping around your nipple again, deft fingers slipping inside your pussy, moan drifting from your lips as you raised your hips, shorts and panties sliding down, but Jungkook was already moving, plunging his fingers in fast and rough, sucking hard, tongue teasing the hard tip, other arm wrapped around you and free hand splayed in the small of your back, locking you in his space.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

Your walls clenched around his fingers, his chuckle vibrating through your nipple, faster, harder, so easy because you were so wet and he was so close, one hand in his hair and the other clutching the sheets, back arching, muscles pulled taut in his touch, thighs unable to close because his own were holding them open, fingers tightening in his short black hair, nails digging into his scalp, breathing hard, not letting him have his favorite sounds, so Jungkook increased the pace, his own fingernails clawing at your back, and your eyelids fluttered, jaw clenching, moan torn from your throat.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

And it all crashed down, fierce blossoming pleasure overtaking your veins, pitch hiking as his fingers stilled and his thumb pressed to your clit, fuck, don’t, but he did, he did because you pulled him even closer, chest to chest, his triumphant pants against your neck, hand sliding up your back, pushing your head down, taking your lips and your scream as you came again, all over his hand, tight pulsating walls clenching around his fingers, the scent of sex painting the air and his palm, covering him with you.

“Fuck…!”

You broke the kiss, hand wrapping around his forearm, squeezing hard, taut muscle pushing you back, tattoos peeking out from beneath your fingertips, staring into his eyes, time stopping, slow circles on your most sensitive spot, his blown-out pupils reflecting yours, skin to skin, heart racing against his.

“What?” Jungkook panted. “Tell me.”

His brown orbs searching your face, shrouded by lashes, desire so obvious that it was tangible and palpable.

“Want you.”

His lips curved into a smug smile.

“Yeah? Say it again.”

Your hands left his hair and his arm, reaching between your bodies, still gazing into his eyes.

“Want you, Jungkook. Want you to fuck me.”

His forehead touched yours as the button came undone, his hair sticking to your face, both sweaty from the intensity.

“I really missed you more than the words,” he mumbled against your cheek, helping you push his pants down, skin to hot skin, kicking them off the bed.

“Mhm.”

“I’m not lying.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jungkook.”

“You are if you don’t believe me.”

You stilled, holding the condom out and Jungkook took it from you, ripping it open, cocking an eyebrow defiantly as he rolled it down his hard length, nudging your thighs.

“You… You’re just here to annoy me.”

Your eyes shifted away and you felt him pick up your legs, pushing them up, hooking them over his shoulders. One of his hands cupped your chin and tugged you back to face him, not letting you avoid his gaze.

“We both know that’s not true,” he said softly.

You gasped sharply as he gripped your chin, holding you in place as he slid in, setting his jaw at your tightness, both of you shuddering at the feeling of your pussy surrounding his cock, feeling it swell inside you and get harder, stretching you out, his determination nearing as he leaned down, bending you in half, hand leaving your chin and pressing his palms flat against your sheets, breathing hard as he shoved himself the rest of the way in, a little pain but so much pleasure, soft thighs against his hard torso, your breath mixing with his, hot and heavy and sweet despite how firmly he had you pinned down.

“I want your head full of me,” Jungkook sighed, slowly rolling his hips into you, making you gasp. “You’ll never have a bad thought if I’m occupying that space.”

“Fuck, you can’t… ah, that’s not how it w-works, Jungkook…”

He was using his weight to drive his thrust, powerful and intense, ramming his hips into you, your juices leaking out and sticking to his crotch, the inside of your joined thighs slick and wet, loud slaps echoing throughout the bedroom, stiff length so hard you could feel it twitch inside your pussy, hitting you as deep and as rough as you liked, probably too much for the normal person, but not you, because you wanted to feel it all, wanted Jungkook to really fuck you and not be gentle about it, grabbing his hair and smacking your hips up to meet his, making you both moan loudly, names mixing with the visceral sounds of sex.

“I’ll just keep fucking you then,” Jungkook hissed. “Keep fucking you and make you feel so good that nothing else matters, nothing except how good I can make you feel.”

You looked up, your silver rings glinting in his black hair, your silver necklaces cutting into your neck and the three coin-shaped pendants jingling and clinking in rhythm with the mattress bouncing under your bodies, pressure and pleasure building inside your core, struggling to breathe as you glanced down and watched him enter and reenter, thick cock slick and hard before disappearing inside you.

“A-Ah…”

Back to his eyes, nearly black from arousal, groaning as you came around him, throbbing walls squeezing his entire length, feeling it all with every pulse.

“You’re gonna have to f-fuck me harder… than t-this…”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You got it.”

You threw your head back at the first smack, clutching his head, feeling it all over, pleasure like rushing fire, eating up all your nerves and replacing it with sound and touch, the swift squelch of his length plunging into you, the feeling of him filling you up and taking your breath away, so good you could barely breathe, so good you could barely think, nothing but the feel of Jungkook towering over you and slamming down into you so you could thrust your hips up to meet him, so close, so close, heavy exhales blending together, skin and nerves prickling, humming with ecstasy, feeling so good you could only moan his name, and he groaned yours, right in your face, edge of desperation in his normally controlled, deep voice..

“Cum, yes, cum for me – fuck!”

And it all crashed down, fierce fire rocketing through you and hitting its peak, gasping as you smacked your hips up and clenched all around his cock in rapid throbs, his moan washing over you, jerking and flinching as he came in strong jolts, rutting his hips into yours to feel it all, shifting the head inside you so your muscles massaged him all over and drained his orgasm out.

“Jungkook… fuck…”

He lifted his arms and lowered your legs, hands coming up to hold your face, tipping your lips up to him, kissing them deeply.

“You don’t understand,” he mumbled, staring at you through his lashes. “It hurts when you don’t come to me.”

He kissed you again and again, your words wisping out between them.

“I…”

Feeling sorry there wasn’t another way.

“I have to get through it myself… It wasn’t you… You didn’t do anything…”

Jungkook collected you in his embrace, breath becoming one with yours.

“Yeah, but I can do something, so I need you to give me the chance.”

His eyes were telling you, you don’t have to go back out there. Stay. Stay with me, in this bedroom, in this space, just you and me. Your hand was against his temple, silver rings against his silver brow piercing, tracing his sharp features, feeling airless as you looked into those dark brown orbs and listened to his voice that seemed to be a permanent resident of your thoughts.

“Keep me with you, always.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoonkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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syndxlla · 3 years

Text

Part nine of the More to Love series

Summary: Plans for the ball are in full swing, the concealment of your relationship with the knight dwindles and you make a deal with one another that leads to both of you learning a new and valuable skill

Word Count: 8.9k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (oral sex F receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms), swearing, mentions of wounds

Author’s Note: and we’re back to your regularly scheduled royalty and princesscore writings. this chapter is very chill honestly, but i still really enjoyed writing it! there’s also the introduction of THE DRESS. y’all this dress is insane you really aren’t ready i am OBSESSED with this dress.

Part eight

“Are you listening, Princess?” You hadn’t even realized you had zoned out. Your cheek was bright red from resting against your palm, and your eyes had glazed over with boredom. You hoped you didn’t look too uninterested, but considering the literal Queen of Mandalore looked down at you with folded arms and one arched eyebrow, you were less than confident that you looked engrossed in the conversation.

The Queen, Lady Reeves and yourself have been inside a yellow-themed parlor all morning discussing plans for the ball. Your Knight stood patiently by the door, overseeing the entire meeting. You wore a long sleeve dress that was too hot for the summer sun, which was slowly drying out the mud and puddles from then two-day long rainstorm that no one predicted. You spent the entire day yesterday pretending to rest from the exhausting day previous, but you were really hiding your arm from everyone else. You tried to argue with Koska that a long sleeve in the middle of summer would look for more suspicious than a simple bandage on your bicep, but she disagreed to say the least. The Knight stopped limping this morning, although you were convinced he was just faking it for good measure. If others knew he was injured, it could raise suspicion that you were too. You also think he didn’t want you to worry about him. The stab wound really wasn’t that deep, but you knew it had to have hurt more than he was showing. You thought he should take a few days off to rest his leg and to really spend time with his son, but he refused to.

You look up from your emotionless stare out the window, which showed the sea in the distance. The ocean was so different here compared to what it’s like in Corellia. There are sandy beaches and the water’s warm, whereas back home, it’s often frozen over, and is lined with rocky fjords and coves. You wanted to go down to one of those beaches soon if you could. They looked relaxing and much more intruiging than a wordy meeting that you stopped listening in on Lord knows when.

“Sorry, I just… zoned out for a minute.” You clear your throat, looking up at the ginger above you. You bat your eyelashes, trying do play off innocent and truthful. She shrugged, and turned around to pull something out of Koska’s hands.

“I was saying that now that we have the food and decor arranged for the ball, we can talk about the important things.” She says as she whips around for the big reveal that you weren’t expecting: iher arms was the most extravagant, fluffy gown you had ever seen. It was a soft rose gold, the skirt was huge and round, tulle pillowing out from the bodice which had clearly been hand-beaded by nimble fingers to have five-pedaled flowers with curly vines growing out of them. There was a soft sweet-heart neckline, the lace and beading of the bodice came up past the structure to overlap where your skin would be, The sleeves were off the shoulder, which was common for Mandalorian summer gowns. The skirt had a soft hint of sparkles and real diamonds had been sewn into the centers of each flower along the gown.

You perked up as you saw the ornament, your attention being drawn from the crashing waves of the ocean to the prettiest dress you had ever seen. You think you sighed, but you weren’t really sure. Dresses have always been a part of your life, designers from all over the world would send you their best sets, and it’s rare for you to wear the same gown more than once. This isn’t the first time you had been presented with a dress that costed more than some of the houses in the kingdom, but there was something different about it. It had a special glow to it, unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Her Radiance Ahsoka brought it, it’s a wedding gift from the Woodland elves.” Koska speaks up when she sees your reaction. Both her and the Queen were amused at your childlike awe. “That’s why it has that shimmer, they used silk spinners and gold.”

“I… I can’t accept this.” You wanted to, but you were desperately trying to be humble and calm in this situation. The dresses never meant that much to you, it’s just a piece of clothing. You have always been far more into the politics that came with royalty, not the fashion, so this was a first.

“Well of course you can.” The queen chuckled, “It would be rude not to.” You wished you could tell her that wearing such an extravagance would feel in vain because you did not feel affection towards the person you’ll be wearing it for. However, you supposed she was right, it would be rude to turn down a gift from the literal elves. You stand up from where you sat, walking over the dress that took your breath away. You wondered what the Knight thought of it, and you turn around to look at him. You know that he wouldn’t show any type of reaction over this thing, especially if the Queen is watching, but you wanted to show him that you were thinking of him. You smiled, raising your eyebrows to really show how beautiful you thought the gown was, you’ll get to talk about it with him later. This is the second time Koska see’s something like this between the two of you, and she first looks at you, and the knight, raising a sharp eyebrow.

You place your hand over the fabric, running your palm over it. You did nothing to deserve this, but you were honored that it’s yours. “It’s like a faerie’s dress.” You sigh. “It’s wonderful, when can I thank her Radiance?”

“She’s out and about, she usually meditates in the gardens on sunny days, I can retrieve her, if you’d like.” Koska speaks up.

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll find her eventually.” You smile.

“Interesting that you brought up the fae…” The Queen brings up, “Allow me to ask, it is your engagement ball, is there anything specific you would like to have incorporated?” A few days ago, you would have had no answer, because a few days ago there was nothing about Mandalore worth it to you. However, things have changed. You’ve spent sleepless nights thinking about the boy in the beskar armor, and you would give anything to dance with him at that ball. You knew damn well that if you asked nicely, and maybe gave him head in return, he would do almost anything you asked. He would happily dance with you alone in the room after the events of the night, although you weren’t even sure if he knew how to dance. You did want to waltz with him, but not in that way.

So, last night you stayed up late, laying on your back with the balcony doors just cracked open to let in the smell fo fresh rain and a cool breeze into the hot room, thinking about him. You especially thought about the soft skin of his thighs and the way he shuddered when you raked your fingernails down his abdomen. But you also thought about how you could dance with him at the ball, where everyone could see. You knew that you would be dancing with far more people than Korkie, it would be many people’s last (and only) chance to dance with you before you’re married, and so you’re expected to give everyone the opportunity and attention they desired. It wasn’t your favorite thing you’d have to do, especially considering you would be dancing with a number of complete strangers and total creeps of Viziers, Grand Dukes and old viscounts who would probably whisper dirty things in your ear. And that is part of why you wanted this one thing for yourself so badly.

Dancing with a mysterious stranger wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted to share your affection towards him, and you especially wanted him to see you in your true element of balls and parties and gowns and tiaras. You knew it was risky, especially considering you can hardly control yourself around him, who knows what the crowd may be whispering as you dreamily look up at him. But after having to move and change your entire life, marry a man you resent in a kingdom that goes against everything you’ve ever believed in, you owe yourself this one thing. Just this one.

However, dancing with a literal knight would be far too suspicious and obnoxious for the biggest event in the western part of the world. And you knew that he would never remove his helmet, even if his life depended on it. It would be no easy feat to convince him to do something like that in such little time, but that’s when you got the best idea to have possibly ever cross your mind.

When you were just a little girl, your nursery caretaker would sit you on her lap when you had droopy, tired eyes, and read you a story. You can’t remember what it was called, it’s been so long since you heard it, but it was your favorite. It was the tale of the masquerade ball where the young peasant girl fell in love with the handsome magician. You were always drawn into it, because you once hoped you would fall in love with a mysterious and handsome man, too.The point of the story was that she never saw his face, as they both had on extravagant swan masks covering their eyes. If everyone had their face covered, it wouldn’t look suspicious if he did, too. You knew it would be a big thing to ask, and he may not even agree to it if the Queen approves of the short-noticed theme, but you wanted to live at least one night as the young peasant girl.

“Yes, actually.” You began to reply, “I would love for my engagement ball to be a masquerade.” You made sure to add in the ‘my’ to reinstate that it is for you. The Queen stopped to consider what you asked, and Koska looked suprised. It’s rare for anyone to ask the Queen for something like that out flat. But, she was the one who brought it up.

The Queen made you wait in suspense for her answer, and every fiber of your being wanted to turn around and wink at the knight to let him know that you asked for him, but even you, the naive princess, knew that you needed to be more careful with sharing your memories with him when others are around. “I suppose we could arrange that.” She thinks out loud, and you can’t stop the smile that stretches across your face. The Queen really only agreed because she knew it would cause more buzz and conversation around her last event as Queen. Even you could see that, but if it meant you would get a chance to share the memory with your guard, it was worth it.

“Your Majesty, forgive me, but the ball is this weekend, I fear we will not have enough time to prepare for such a change in plans…” Koska spoke up.

“Well, not if we don’t have everyone in the palace working double time,” Both yours and Koska’s faces dropped, that is not what you wanted at all. “Every servant will be required to make ten masks before the ball on Saturday. Knights are exempt, obviously.” She placed the rose gold dress back in Koska’s arms. You immediately felt guilty.

“Oh that won’t be necessary, Your Majesty, I don’t want everyone to-“

“Oh nonsense,” She interrupted, “I love the masquerade idea, it will be grand. It will be the envy of Coruscant.” Was everything a battle for her? An endless contest of who’s the best between Mandalore and Coruscant? If everyone had extra work to do on top of their usual load, you would feel absolutely terrible, but there would be no changing the Queen’s mind. “As the head of the servants, you will oversee the masks, Lady Reeves.” Your face was in shock, pale and sick. Koska shot you an annoyed glare. You tried to respond with an apologetic smile, but the Queen was speaking up again, pacing as she spoke. “Of course we need the royals to stand out from everyone else, we’ll already have our gowns but the masks will make a difference too…” She thought out loud. “Koska I would like an owl mask as per usual, there will be gems incorporated as well I trust?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” She was not amused with her new task.

“As for our little Princess,” She was referring to you, but you couldn’t even listen out of guilt. Everything you tried in Mandalore somehow backfired on you. “Her dress is lovely, but her mask must also be the most extravagant in the room, after mine, of course. It would also be best if hers and my nephew’s matched, Yes?” Koska nodded, struggling to hold the heavy dress with her small stature. “Lovely, aren’t you just full of surprises, Your Highness?” The Queen smiled at you, and you forced a polite smile. “Now, excuse me, I have a designer to meet with to get as many feathers and adornments for masks as possible.” The redhead hastily exits the room, her high guard following her, leaving just you and Koska with your knight.

“What the fuck was that about?” Koska asked afterwards.

“I didn’t mean for any of the extra work to happen, I swear.” You defensively respond.

“You just love giving me a hard time, don’t you?” She asks.

“No- that not at all what-“

“Let her be, Koska.” Your knight steps into the conversation.

“Ugh you knights are so frustrating sometimes.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, what is going on with you two?” She asks and your heart drops to your ass. Was it that obvious there was something more there? Your knight tensed up, too. “Yeah, I can see exactly what’s going on here. Would either of you like to explain?” She asks.

The two of you stood awkwardly like children who got caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. You wondered how you were going to get out of this one. Your entire world could come crashing down right now if you didn’t play this out correctly, and a thousand outcomes of this situation simultaneously played out in your head. Would she rat you out? Would it lead to your knights expulsion? Or would she keep it to herself? She seemed to have a history with your knight, although you didn’t know what that might be. Maybe she would be on your side, but you highly doubted it.

You blame yourself for all of this. You should have put a stop to all of this long ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. He has you tied around your finger, and you like it. You wondered what was going on through his mind, was he as nervous as you? He had to be, if not more worried about what would happen. Someone knowing about your secret relationship would only lead to you getting a tap on your knuckles and then they would try to hide it from society to keep your reputation clean, but it would be the end of his career and safety for him. You were selfish for this, and you knew it.

“What?” Is all your stupid mouth says. As if you hadn’t just had the most sporadic and stressful thought process of your entire life. After all that, the only thing you were able to come up with was “what?”. You thought your body might be shaking, but you weren’t totally sure. You wanted to look at the knight by your side, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Koska must have thought the same thing as you because after you just responded with an arrogant rhetorical question, her eyebrows raised like a mother angry with her teenage son. She scoffs, and walks to the other side of the parlor to place the gown down on a sofa. When her back was turned to you, you were somehow able to muster up the courage to look at the beskar-clad figure to your left. He didn’t look any different than, well, ever. Tall and broad and stoically looking ahead as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But you knew better. He had to have had a similar thought process to your own. He never turned to look back at you, and that’s when the guilt really set in. This could have been prevented. It should have been prevented. You fiddle with your sleeve.

Koska comes back too soon, her arms folded over her chest and the same unamused look on her stupidly perfect face. “So, one of you better start talking now, or else I’m going to get impatient and go catch up with the Queen to do your chore.” She nods to you. Why was she doing this? What did she gain out of knowing any of this? It could be to protect Korkie, although you found that seriously hard to believe. From what you can tell, Koska could care less about the Mandalorian Prince.

You sigh out of embarrassment mostly, but know that you are the one who needs to speak up. This was your mistake, and so it was your responsibility to fix it. “This is all my fault,” You have to clear your throat after beginning because of how uncomfortably your words sit in your throat. “I take full responsibility for everything. Don’t blame him for anything.” You nod. He turns his head to look at you after you say this, and you wanted nothing more than to look back at him, but Koska had your gaze trapped.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘everything’ and ‘anything’?” The lady-in-waiting asks.

You sigh again, knowing this was going to be hard to say. “I...allowed myself to be…” You carefully considered your word choice, “i-infatuated with the wrong man.” You finally get out. That was the first time you had said it in front of him, and only the second time you had said it outloud ever, the first being to the Elven Queen last week. “I shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand, but I fell under the spell of this Knight, and I don’t even know his name. I’ve never seen his face. In many ways, he’s a complete stranger to me.” You debated saying the next thing, but it just kind of spilled out, ‘A stranger who’s plagued my thoughts and actions since the day I got here.” It was hard for you to say, but there was something so liberating about saying it.

He never took his eyes off of you the entire time you spoke, but this time you were able to look back at him. Your eyes first looking down at the floor guiltily, and then they slowly make their way up his armor and to the visor on his helmet. You just looked there for a little bit while Koska processed what you were saying. You smiled genuinely at the knight, desperately trying to show him that everything you just said was true. For a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to say anything at all, and the room fell silent.

“Well…” She begins, you can’t hear any disappointment in her tone yet, “You’re terrible at hiding it.” She sighs. Of all the things she could have said, you did not expect that.

“What?” You say like an absolute idiot for the second time. You look back at the woman.

“Look, I’ve known him for a long time.” She shakily breathes, looking at him, “We’ve actually been through a lot together.” He was still looking at you, “And honestly, Neither of us were ever cut out for the Royal life we’ve been living for a while now.” You wondered what she meant by that. “And to be frank, I could care less about your personal life.” She said to you about you, “But since he’s a friend, and you really don’t mean very much to me, no offense,”

“None taken.”

“I suppose I’ll just keep it to myself-“

The relief that overcame your body was unmatched. You can’t stop the grin that goes from ear to ear or the sigh of relief that danced on your lips and out of your lungs. You look over at him, who still hasn’t looked away from your face, but he sighs of relief, too. You see it in the way his armor shifts.

“-Under one condition.”

“Okay…”

“You have to start hiding it better, no more over the shoulder glances. Okay? This is me looking out for him.” She gestures to him with a nod. Was she really going to do this for you?

“No more glances, got it.” You repeat.

“There’s no telling what might happen to him if the wrong person finds out.” She clears her throat, and that statement scares you. You try not to let it take up too much of your thought. “And you have to act like nothing is different. You’re still engaged to the Prince and you’re still the future Queen-consort. I don’t give a damn about what happens behind closed doors, but when others are around you have to behave yourselves. This is me looking out for my kingdom, understood?”

“Understood.” You nod back, although you weren’t the biggest fan of that condition, you knew that was the price you had to pay to get what you wanted… well at least what you think you wanted. “You’re not going to tell the Queen?”

“If you do those things, she won’t hear a word about it.” Koska shrugs.

“And what about Korkie?”

“Stars, I cannot stand that boy. I don’t even talk to him.” She rolls her eyes and you chuckle. You’re happy you aren’t the only one who feels that way about the prince. “But I’m not going to cover or lie for you two, I’m not going to help you hide it or anything. Alright?”

“Of course.” You reply.

“Great. I have over five-hundered masks to make by Saturday, so I’ll be leaving now.” She finished and on her way out, she pushes the knight on the shoulder playfully.

The door closes.

“Stars.” You clear your throat and turn to look at him, before you can say anything, though, he’s picking you up by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of weightless flour, and carrying you over to the second sofa that isn’t taken up by a ridiculously large dress. You giggle when he does, blushing at his enthusiasm. You’re placed on your back and he kneels between your legs.

“You’re excited.” You chuckle and he hums in response. There isn’t very much room on the sofa but he makes his place. He then grabs the hem of your dress, pulling it up over first your thighs, then up past your hips, over the corset and up to your face. He covers your eyes with the skirt and it hides the cheesiest smile on your face. light still poured in from the fabric, but you weren’t able to see anything.

You then heard the sound of metal being placed on the floor next to you, and to your pleasant surprise, his lips and pressed tightly to yours through the fabric. The kiss obviously doesn’t make any contact, but you’ve learned that with the knight, it’s the thought that always counts. You’re smiling into the kiss like a dork, and you shudder when you feel his bare hands against your bare thighs. He pulls your legs open, and then pulls away from your separated kiss.

Your first moan comes when you feel his lips against your soft thighs. He licks up and down your right thigh first, his fingertips strong and faithful against the outer part of your legs. Your breathing hitches, and you hum with pleasure when he moves to your left thigh, taking the same amount of time to kiss, nibble and suck on your pillowy skin.

Then, before you can think any more about the heat and want in between your legs, he’s pulling down your petticoat painfully slow. You bite your lip, you knew where he was headed with this, and you were more than happy to welcome it. His index and middle finger run soft lines around your cunt, massaging the swollen and wet skin around your opening that only got wetter. Your clit begged for attention, but your arms were trapped under the position of the dress skirt, and you didn’t want to risk adjusting it in a way that would make him stop. You would have to patiently wait as he teased and prodded your lips, his free hand rubbing your thigh and occasionally making its way to firmly squeeze your ass cheek. Your breathing was needy and short as he took his time to get to know your core with the tips of his fingers, which were now wet and slick and making the friction smoother.

He then gently places a light kiss on your clit. It’s so soft that you’re only able to feel it because of how sensitive and hungry you are for that type of contact. You slightly finch when his lips touch the nerve, and you’re able to feel him smile against your skin. What you would give to see his face right now…. Then, before you can think any more, he’s licking a flat stripe up from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit where he flicks three times with the tip of his tongue. You gasp at the sensation, and try to suppress a moan. He then take his time to lick each separate lip of your sex, avoiding your actual opening but teasing in such an addictive way that you were willing to be patient for him.

The knight then finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, pulsing with his lips and flicking back and forth quickly with the tip of his tongue. You do moan this time, a broken cry falling off of your needy lips. It was a euphoric feeling unlike anything you’ve experienced before and you loved every moment of it. His arms wrap around your upper thighs, holding you in place around his head as he moves down to lap at your pussy lips. He moans at the taste of you, diving his tongue into your folds and prodding your sensitive clit with his nose.

You whine short and quietly as he does, biting your lip and bucking your hips every now and then as he took care of your sex. He must have gone down on you for close to ten minutes straight, never coming up for fresh air and never stopping the steady pace he had. You aren’t sure how you didn’t cum immediately at the feeling of his plump lips against your clit, but you also aren’t sure how you didn’t blackout from the sheer pleasure of the feeling. It was addictive, and it only got better after he pulled away to spit on your cunt. He spits onto your folds and then brings his fingers up again to start fingering you, sliding in his pointer finger with no resistance and slowly pumping it in and out. His mouth finds its way back to your slit, sucking on it as he fingers you. The sound was filthy, it filled the parlor with wet, obscene noises accompanied by breathy moans and gentle hums. Every time he hummed against your clit, your back arched from the added pleasure. The vibrating of it was pure euphoric, and you knew you were a sopping mess in between your thighs.

His chin was wet from spit and arousal and for one quick moment he pulled his wet mouth away from your core to kiss and rub the juices of your cunt on your thighs. He nibbles a few times on either thigh, marking each with a litter of purple and red hickeys. Before adding a second finger, he pulls his hand out to gently and playfully slap your cunt. He uses his wet hand to tap your core five or six times, each tap getting harder. You moan out at the feeling, and squeeze your legs together against the feeling in a horny attempt to get more pleasure from the moment.

“Huh, would you look at that?” He asks, his voice low and hungry and full of lust. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and the indulgence of the oral sex cause you to nearly forget how much you loved his rough voice. “Do you like it when I slap your cunt?” You whine in response. “With your words, Princess.”

“Yes, Sir.” You whine like a bitch. He chuckles and slaps it again, harder this time. You shudder at the feeling and feel your climax coming on. You want to delay it for as long as possible, but your thighs start to shake when he puts his mouth back in you and pushed both his index and middle finger into your opening, pumping and curling and twisting his wrist to make the most wonderful combination of finger-fucking you could of have imagined.

“I’m gonna cum.” You barely get out before your spine is burning and your stomach is flexing as you cum hard and long against his tongue and on his fingers. You cry out in broken, heavenly bliss, and look for something to grasp onto as you hit your high, but you can’t find anything, which leads to your sporadic back arches. You’re panting, and he doesn’t stop kissing against your core while you cum on his tongue. You bite your lip and swear you might make it bleed a little. His grip on your thighs tightens while he pulls you against his mouth, preventing you from pulling away from the addictive exhilaration that is his kiss.

He licks you through the entire orgasm, and then some after. You think you’re being over-stimulated but you never have been before, so you aren’t really sure. Just when you think he’s going to stop, he doesn’t and he just takes his sweet old time lapping against your core and slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. You sharply breath in, your chest heaving against the dress and you desperately want to pull your dress down to see him and breath freshly again. The way he eats you out is so methodical, like he’s done it a thousand times (which wouldn’t necessarily surprise you), like it’s the only thing he’s ever eaten or the sweetest honey to ever grace his lips.

It begins to turn you on again, the pleasure shooting into your spine and down your littered thighs and melting against your clit. You can feel the gentle rub of his fingers against your thighs, stroking your skin as he takes you in. It’s heavenly and is the only thing you can think about. Your thoughts go numb and the only important thing in the entire world is the curly-haired boy at your expense.

You mutter and whisper swears, dirty words that aren’t meant to come out of a princess’ mouth but you can’t help it when you’re seeing white hot behind your eyes. He groans a few times too before his fingers speed back up to the pace they were at before you came the first time. Your dainty hands stroke lightly on your collar-bones as the pleasure fills your soul, licking your lips and trying to hold on for as long as possible before you cum again but you can already feel your second orgasm coming on. He uses a third finger to outline your lips, coating the tip in your slick and then slowly inserting the third and final finger into your cunt, helping you chase that final hit of release. The stretch is amazing, and you were surprised you were able to take it so well. This is when you realized that he’s been training you for something much bigger. The first time he fingered you wasn’t even any penetration, the second time was two fingers, just enough to stretch you that it hurt the right amount, and now this time, three fingers that felt amazing. You remembered the size of his cock, you knew it would be a challenge to take, but he was making sure you would be able to handle it and enjoy it as much as he will.

His focus goes from licking your clit to the fingers inside. He twists his wrist to make the curl and stretch your entrance. He collects the wetness and lets it make the glide and pump smoother. You’re so drenched and needy that the fluid is running out past his fingers and dripping onto the sofa cushion, staining it with your lust. He nips so slightly at your clit and just like that, your whole world comes crashing down. The orgasm is actually mind-numbing this time, and all you can do is moan and sob and claw at your own skin. Your scratch into your shoulders and collar-bone and it’s deliciously painful. Your thighs clamp against his head and he continues to finger you long and hard through the climax, cleaning your folds up as you cum against his tongue and fingers. You’re finally able to catch your breath, painting with droopy, lustful eyes but feeling completely fulfilled. He cleans up all the juices around your entrance, collecting the cum on his tongue and happily swallowing it down like it’s his last meal. You aren’t able to see it, but he then puts his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off the three that were knuckle-deep into your cunt. He groans at the taste, and wipes his mouth before planting one last, gentle kiss to the soft, angelic skin of the mound between your legs. You're so sensitive that the light kiss makes you flinch, and he chuckles at the involuntary reaction.

He puts his helmet back on and then pulls your dress skirt down to see your face. You’re surprised by the light initially, and you blink a few times to adjust to it. Your lungs fill with crisp air and you look at your favorite sight: the helm of the knight you think you’re falling in love with. You can’t stop the smile on your face. He chuckles and then readjusts your dress to cover you up better. He takes such good care of you. You see him freeze when he sees the scratch marks on your skin, and his bare hand softly runs over the red lines, outlining the marks. You blush at him, looking up at his expressionless face with a puppy-love look.

“Everytime I think it can’t get any better, you prove me wrong.” You sigh. Every orgasm has been better than the last.

“Just you wait.” You hear the smirk under the helmet and it causes butterflies to flutter in your tummy. You sigh, still catching your breath and you just take him in, looking up at how he’s propped up above you. He has hands on either side of your head and he’s just a brudding force of metal and sex and good kissing and caring about things that you didn’t even know you needed someone to care about. You probably look like a dork just smiling up at him but you don’t even care and now your hands are free to wrap around his neck and you just wish you could see his face and kiss it all over right now.

Your fingers lock behind his neck and the positioning of his armor and the way his head is bent makes it so you can just barely feel the skin of his neck. You move your index fingers up to look for the curls at the nape of his neck. You think you could sing out when you found the prize: some strands of dark, brown, thick hair hidden under the helmet. You twirl them around your fingers and that action alone is worth a million kisses. The feeling in your heart is second to none and you wished you could stay in this still moment forever.

“Did you mean what you said?” He speaks up in reference to what you told Koska about him.

“Every word of it.” You state, genuinely meaning it as you said it. He did respond but something told you he was smiling under all that armor. He sighs, and then lets his arms go weak so he’s falling onto you. You groan at the surprise and the sheer weight of both his broad body and the heavy armor on top. The air is pushed out of your lungs but at least he’s pressed into you, your hands still toying with his curly hair. You can hear him chuckle, and you wanted to freeze time.

“Someone’s gonna see us if we stay like this.” He mutters as you tilt your head to have it rest on top of his helmet.

“Then let them.”

He doesn’t reply to what you say, and you debate if it was even the right thing to say. When you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted, it’s hard to grasp the concept that someone may not want the same thing. You’re selfish for not caring about his safety and status in these types of situations. He grunts as he pushes himself back up and stands again, leaving only you on the sofa.

“How’s the arm?”

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes, you don’t want everyone to worry so much anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You reply more forcefully this time, sitting up on the couch.

“Just making sure.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You sigh, and consider your next words, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.” You sit with your palms flat against the cushion, making aware of the wet spot on the fabric and smirking fondly at it.

“Anything, your Highness.” He nods.

“Well… I wondered if maybe I could teach you how to dance?” You were nervous about what his response may be.

“Oh Stars-“ He chuckles.

“What!?”

“I had a feeling that masquerade might have something to do with me.” He puts his hands on his hips like he’s scolding you but there’s a guilty part of you that you like about it.

“Well it isn’t just about you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“...no.” He already knew you so well. He chuckles at your response. “So… what’s your answer?”

“Dancing isn't my style…”

“I don’t believe that.” You tilt your head. “Come on, it’s super easy and it would mean a lot to me.” You try convincing. He sighs and considers what you’re offering. “I can give you something in return…” You bite your lip, teasing. He chuckles just once.

“Alright-”

“What!? Really??” You stand up from excitement, you weren’t really expecting him to agree.

“But, only if you let me teach you something in return.” You nod in agreement, your hands coming to fold in your lap. You were expecting him to refer to something sexual, but his words prove you wrong, “I wanna teach you how to fight.”

“What?” Why would you ever need that?” It’s rare for royals to learn such a skill, especially princesses. You understood that it would be valuable, but you weren’t completely sure if you were up to the task.

“Well more than anything, I want to teach you how to defend yourself. So something like Keldabe doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay…” You were tentative to agree.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, “If it means I get to dance with you at the ball, I would be more than happy to learn.”

“Great. Let’s start then.” He takes a step back and holds his hand out for you to take.

“What?” You place your palm in his and he pulls you up off the couch, “right now?”

“Yes, c’mere.” You were nervous and honestly your legs were still weak from cumming twice, but you follow him as he begins to talk. “I’ll just teach you a few things and then you can teach me how to dance I guess.”

“Stop being a pill.” You tease.

“Only if you stop, too.” He teases right back at you which leads to a scoff from your lips. He ignores you. “When you're defending yourself, you always wanna protect your face, okay?”

“Protect my face, got it.” You repeat. He holds his arms up in front of his helmet, his hands fisted.

“Mimic my pose.” You roll your eyes but mirror him, holding your arms to guard your face. “See, is that so hard?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He sarcastically replies. “You can’t do much if you can’t see, so that’s why you gotta protect your face. If you wore a helmet you wouldn’t need to do this.”

“But I would always be wearing a helmet…”

“It’s not so bad.” He shrugs.

“Something tells me that you don’t believe that.” You drop your arms from your face to say that, which was obviously a mistake, because instead of responding to your claim (which was probably right), he's jabbing his arm out towards your face. He’s not close enough to hit you but the quick and unexpected action is enough to startle you back. You lose your balance and fall down on the ground, wincing when you hit the ground and regretting agreeing to this. Your arms wrap into a frustrated position and you frown up at him. You look up at him surprised and a little pissed, and he just starts laughing. “What was that?”

“You let your guard down.” He says between laughs. He does hold his hand out for you to help you back up, and you take it to your own dismay. He hoists you up quickly, and you have to re-establish your balance.

“You are impossible.” You put your arms back over your face, ready to try again.

“You like it.”

“Are you gonna teach me or not?” He wasn't wrong but you figured you’d have to try and beat him at his own game.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Just go.” You roll your eyes again.

“This will also protect your ribs. Can’t do much if the wind is knocked out of you, either.” He explains. “You also want to stand wide, it’ll help you keep your balance.” He kicks your feet out to be shoulder width which breaks every rule in the book of princess manners. “And prevent… falling on the floor.”

“This isn’t exactly easy to do in a corset, you know.” You argue.

“And dancing won’t be easy in armor but here we are.” He shrugs, and you suppose he’s right. Neither of you are cut out for the tasks at hand. “When fighting someone without armor, you’re gonna want to go for their face, their eyes are vulnerable and you can do real damage on their nose.”

“Okay….” You try to remember what he was saying, making a mental note for any future situations, although you’re still skeptical. “And what about someone with armor on?” You ask, trying not to show the smirk on your face.

“Well the guy in Keldabe did everything right, he found where the weak points of my armor was and attacked them-“

“So here?” You ask before reeling back your arm and swinging it as hard as you can into his shoulder where there was only chain mail. Your fist crashes into the metal, and you immediately regret it. “Shit!” You pull your hand back and look at your bright red knuckles, shaking your hand a few times as you try to brush the shock away.

“...Yeah, right there.” On the bright side, he seemed to be surprised by it enough that he made a little groan from the contact that turned you on way more than it should have. “But now you fucked up your hand.”

“You think?” You place the angry knuckles at your mouth, trying not to be too upset about the pain shooting through your hand.

“Punching chainmail is always gonna hurt, especially if you do it wrong… like that.”

“So how do I do it right!?” You’re determined now. No one has ever put you in your place, you’ve always gotten what you wanted, and you wanted to prove to him that you could do it.

“Why are you so eager to inflict pain on me?” He asks, you can hear the teasing in his tone but you can’t blame him for feeling that way. Perhaps you did come off a little anxious.

“I don’t know… I guess I just want to prove something to you.” You sigh, still pissed off by the pain in your hand. You’re so distracted by it that you hardly notice him walking towards you. His gentle and soft bare hands take your fist away from your mouth. You’re tentative at first, but let him take it in his hand, cupping it in between his and looking down at your red skin. You frown mostly out of frustration, but the pain is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Princesses aren’t supposed to feel pain.

Before you can blink, he pulls his top hand away and takes it to lift up his helmet just above his lips. The angle makes it so you can’t see any of his face but you understand. He bends down and kisses your knuckles in the same fashion one would when greeting you, but this was so much more intimate. His lips were like satin against your skin and the butterflies in your stomach fly right back. The physical pain didn’t go away, but the anger around it did. Your heart softened and wished he would kiss your lips but he’s already pulling the beskar back over his jaw. You sigh from the gesture, he was so romantic and you don’t even think he’s trying to be. He’s just trying to be kind and patient with you and it’s doing something to your heart that you don’t know if you can handle anymore.

“So… how do you waltz?” He asks, his hand still holding onto yours. You smile and sheepishly look down at your feet. You were unsure of how to begin, but were happy he was willing to learn.

“Okay.” You smile, “Well, you first need to loosen up. Stop being so stiff.” He tilts his head like you’re speaking a foreign language. “Like this.” You press your hands down on his shoulder pauldrons, he tries to rest them but fails and you chuckle just a little. “Roll them back.” You explain and do it yourself, he attempts to follow, and actually is able to relax a little bit more this time. Knights are always so stiff, you think it will be good for him to relax every now and then. “Good, now this hand goes here…” You lift his right hand to rest on your waist and he immediately settles into it, already feeling more comfortable now that he is holding you. You place your left hand on his shoulder, pulling your bodies a little closer together. He wanted your torsos to be flush against one another, “No, we have to keep our distance so we have room to do the steps.” You explain.

“Well that’s no fun.” He sighs. You blush and giggle.

“If we get this done I promise you can hold me as long as you want.” You tilt your head trying to make a fair compromise.

“Fine.” He’ll take it.

“Great, now we hold these hands.” You take his left hand and hold it into yours. “That’s the basic position, I learned it as home position, got it?”

“Home position…?” He repeats.

“Mhm.” You nod, your faces are close and you would give anything to feel his breath against yours. “It’s important that we sort of… ‘glide’ like we bounce as we dance, it will make it prettier.” He was convinced you were always pretty no matter what you tried or did, but we guessed he would comply this time. Your voice goes quiet and soft, the mood immediately changing from teasing to harmonious. “And your feet… okay this is sort of complicated but your left foot will go forward as my right goes back-“ You keep looking down at the floor as you try to explain the steps but his gaze is on your face, hardly listening to what you're saying and only being engulfed in your face and the way you talked about doing something you loved. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it.

You must have been talking for a while without really listening to yourself because he was slowly pulling you into his torso and closing the space without you really noticing that you were inches closer than you were before. “-and then your left foot will slide to meet your right foot-“ the last word fades out as you slowly look back up to his face which was now up close to yours, your bodies pressed together and both of his hands on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back. Your heart skips a beat and you forget how to breathe as you look up at him and it just felt… right.

Your hands lift from his pauldron to his helmet and you want to take it off so badly. You knew it was too fast still, and he would remove his helmet for you when he felt like he could. At least that’s what you hoped for. It should be his decision, no one else’s. But your hands are grazing the bottom of the beskar and everything feels so right. He’s so still and his breath is quiet and for just a moment you think he might let you and then-

The door knob is turning slowly and both of you are splitting away all too fast, trying to make enough space between the two of you so it didn’t look suspicious. You both scramble, trying to put yourselves back together. The still and perfect moment was entirely gone when Prince Korkie opened up the door into the parlor. You tried not to look too shocked when his stupid perfect hair and young face looked on you. The knight held his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were bare and side-eyed the gloves on the sofa that laid by the wet stain on the cushion. He silently prayed that the Prince wouldn’t notice them.

“Ah, princess I was wondering where you were.” He looked between the two of you. He didn’t seem too suspicious, thank the stars.

“Korkie! What are you doing?” You awkwardly laugh. Your hands fold at waist level, and you fix your posture.

“Did… I walk in on something?” He asks and your whole body goes numb. You swallow and try not to pass out. The truth is yes, he did walk in on something very important to you, but here we are.

“Oh! No, we were just…” You search around the room looking for something to take the attention away from you and the knight, “Admiring the beautiful dress the Elves gave me!” You walk to the heavy, iridescent gown on the clean sofa, picking it up to show him. You smile desperately, hoping that would be enough.

“Ah yes! It is beautiful, isn’t it?” He nods, smiling. You sigh of relief when he falls for the bait. You set the dress back down.

“Can I do anything for you?” You ask,a king sure there was no attention on the knight being you.

“I… just wanted to spend a bit of time with you. My aunt informed me of the changes to the Ball. What a wonderful idea!”

“Why thank you.” You smile, taking a few steps towards him in a hopeless attempt to not seem so suspicious.

“Yes! I had just received the RSVPS from a number of the guests. Your parents, the twins of Naboo, the senator of Alderaan and Princess of Chandrila and I’m pleased to say that we’ve found no suspicion of any attack from Coruscant!” Stars, he talks a lot. You aren’t sure how he can have any more breath to talk. You were starting to decide that you liked the boys who were more reserved.

Well… one boy.

“Oh… Um, of course. That’s great news.” You nod and finish your walk towards him, suddenly hyper-aware of the fading scratches on your collar bone.

“Come with me, we should review the letters together.” You look back at the knight apologetically before walking into the hallway with the Prince. This isn’t exactly how you hoped your afternoon would go...

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Part ten

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Thirteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: merry christmas

***

Nesta and Cassian agree to take separate cars to Velaris— not because they’re so afraid of being discovered together that they’ll risk global warming, but because Nesta has a preceding event and tells Cassian not to wait up for her.

After a rushed Secret Santa with the boys at Emerie’s apartment, Nesta drops by Gwyn’s place and leaves a small parcel at the doorstep. She doesn’t have time to knock and make conversation, but the gift is the least she can do after Gwyn surprised her the other day with a copy of a highly anticipated romance book weeks ahead of its official release.

“The library got early copies and I borrowed this one for you,” she said out of nowhere one afternoon, handing her the book. Nesta blinked in shock, not realizing that she and Gwyn were close enough for such acts of kindness. Even if their conversations felt like they’d been friends for much longer, they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. It was then that she realized that’s just how Gwyn is. She does nice things because she can, not because social bonds or etiquette compels her to.

Guilt isn’t something Nesta feels often, but she was ravaged by it when she thought of not repaying Gwyn’s kindness. She couldn’t bear the idea of imbalances or debts being created in her relationships with her new friends, and spent the last two days searching everywhere for a decent gift to make up for it. She’ll have to text to make sure Gwyn got her present later tonight.

After a two hour drive (she might have taken detours to stall), Nesta is in the hallway leading to Feyre and Rhysand’s penthouse apartment. The door is cracked open enough that laughter and music float out to where she stands, and her fingers tighten on the bag carrying her sisters’ gifts. She checks her makeup in the hall mirror one final time, assuring that not a smidge of her perfect armor is out of place.

An in-and-out operation, she tells herself, flicking a lock of hair away from her face. She’s prepared for this.

Walking up to the half-open door, she’s struck down by the decision of whether to knock before going in or not. Luckily, the choice is taken away from her when the door swings open on its own, and Feyre is on the other side.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise, in a good or bad way Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta blinks. “Did you know I was here?” She gestures to the door.

“Oh, no...” Feyre pokes her head past Nesta into the hallway. “Actually, I was checking to see if the pizza guy was here yet,” —she looks back at Nesta— “but this is even better!”

The slight strain in her voice makes Nesta think otherwise.

She doesn’t play along with the game. She doesn’t even comment on how they’re having pizza on Christmas Eve. Feyre adds after a moment, genuinely this time, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Nesta glances down at her dress, a skintight ruched piece that shows more chest than usual, and then back up at Feyre’s designer jumpsuit. “So do you,” she says, her voice more flat than she’d prefer it. But she means it. “Can I come in?” she gestures inside, hoping to put an end to this conversation and her nerves.

“Right, duh,” Feyre laughs, grabbing Nesta’s gift bag and waving her inside. “Elain’s in the kitchen if you want to see her. Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable.”

Nesta steps past the door cautiously, eyeing the penthouse as if it’s her first time here. The winding iron-railed staircase is to the right, leading up to the second floor which holds all the bedrooms. The living area sprawls to her left, and through a wood-paneled threshold across from her is the dining room and kitchen. If anything is different from the last time she visited, it’s that the place is now considerably more lived in: pictures, hand-picked art, and other signs of life and love decorate every inch of the apartment, to the point where it makes Nesta feel like a home invader.

She’s so busy absorbing this place she doesn’t belong in that it takes her a moment to realize the room has fallen silent.

She turns to the living area, and her eyes land on Cassian first. He went so far as to put on a suit for tonight, and he’s watching her with a stunned quietness that makes her proud of her own outfit choice.

Nesta knows there are other people in the room, but she really can’t bring herself to care. Her hands twitch at her sides, instinctively reaching for him—

“Look who finally decided to show up,” a smug voice drawls.

Nesta looks away from Cassian to find that just about everybody else is staring at her, too. The voice who spoke up is that tiny woman named Amren, and she’s watching Nesta now with a sharp glint in her gray eyes.

Slick discomfort coats Nesta’s insides at Amren’s tone, and she lets her hands fall behind her back so they can’t reveal her anxiety. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“’Sup, Nesta,” Cassian is the only one that bothers to respond. His tone holds none of the closeness or intimacy it usually does— it’s been replaced with a removed, almost strained friendliness instead.

Remembering that seeking him out for comfort is not an option tonight, she tries to find somewhere else to look.

In the span of a second, she spies Mor’s curiosity, Rhysand’s vague distaste, and Varian’s hesitance, before finally settling on Azriel’s bland look of disinterest. His phone dangles lazily from his hand, and he looks about two seconds away from going back to it and ignoring her completely.

It’s his detachment that grounds Nesta enough to remember her words. “I’m going to…” she gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, “get some food.”

“I can help—” Feyre starts.

“No, thank you,” Nesta quips, then hightails it out of there. The conversation, along with Nesta’s heartbeat, restarts as soon as she’s out of the room.

Following the short hallway connecting the dining space to the huge kitchen, she freezes when she finds Elain standing before the dual range oven, staring intently down at her phone. She curses herself silently— how did she forget her other sister would be waiting here right after being told so?

Elain’s head snaps up at the sound of Nesta’s heels on the tile, looking flustered. She quickly tucks her phone into the pocket of her apron before she realizes who she’s looking at, and a wide smile overtakes her beautiful face. “Is that really you?” Elain marvels in her lilting southern accent.

The words hit Nesta bluntly for some inexplicable reason. She shakes it off with a blink and smiles back, far more subdued than Elain but still genuine. “Lain,” she greets kindly, like they’re two old friends picking up right where they left off.

It’s Nesta’s fault that things are like this, she knows. She hasn’t bothered holding a real conversation with her closest sister in months, and now she’s in the same room as her hoping she won’t have to face Elain’s disappointment for her distance.

“Oh, get over here, how’ve you been?” Elain crosses the sleek kitchen and waves her into a hug. Nesta awkwardly pats her back, and is held even tighter when she tries pulling away.

She only manages to detach from Elain when Elain’s apron pocket vibrates. Stepping back, she takes her phone out and silences it before tucking it away once more. “So,” she grins when her focus returns to Nesta, “how’s the lone wolf life treating you? Isn’t it great to be back at your old apartment?”

“It’s good. I’m doing good,” she nods along. Nesta hates small talk more than anything, but this is the least she owes Elain. And the least she owes herself, if she’s being honest. Even if she knows she will never truly be fit for a life of socialization.

She takes things a step further and nods to the oven, asking, “What are you cooking up?”

She knows she’s done something right when Elain’s dark eyes light up, and she starts rattling off the three-course menu she’s prepared for tonight. (“What about the pizza on the way?” Nesta asks. Elain’s face darkens. “Don’t get me started. Some of the people in that living room have the taste palate of five year olds.”)

Nesta takes a seat at the island and falls into the age-old rhythm of listening to her sister talk, her heart feeling bruised and soothed at the same time. How similar and different they are now from the people they were ten years ago. Nesta doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not.

***

“That’s the thirtieth time you’ve checked your phone since Mor started telling her dolphin story,” Cassian mutters to Azriel sitting next to him on the couch.

Az clicks his phone off and turns it facedown so Cassian can’t see the screen, his face remaining blank the entire time. “I can’t help it if I’ve heard the dolphin story a hundred times already.”

“You’ve been staring at that thing the entire night,” Cassian calls him out. “Anyone on there more interesting than us, dear brother?”

Az snorts, not bothering to look at him. “Like you’re one to talk.” He reaches for his glass of liquor on the side table.

Cassian frowns as the chatter drowns out his murmur. “What do you mean?”

Azriel takes a sip from his drink, not replying. “When do you plan on letting us back at your cabin?” he says instead.

Cassian snorts. “It’s not like I’ve been keeping you away from it.”

“You turned Rhys and me down every time we made plans about coming over.”

“Because Nesta was staying there.” He is very, very careful about the way he says her name. Even talking about her is walking a thin line.

“She moved out a while ago, though,” Azriel continues. He leans back into the couch. “Speaking of Nesta, I don’t remember her being that hot. Did you see her in that little dress tonight?”

Cassian tenses, dull anger sliding over his bones and under his skin. “We all fucking saw her,” he says tightly.

Az clicks his tongue. “Damn. A woman like that shouldn’t be wasted in a small town.” His eyes slide over to Cassian’s with a dark glint of amusement. “You mind sharing?”

In that moment, Cassian is presented with the option of punching Azriel in the face. Hard. It’s only due to a divine miracle that he doesn’t.

Even with his temper, Cassian knows when he’s being played with. “How did you know.” His voice is flat, cold.

“You have ‘Nesta’s bitch’ written all over your face.”

Goddammit. Cassian clenches his teeth, saying nothing. Can everyone see it, or only his closest brother? How long has he known?

“I had my suspicions,” Az says simply, “when you ran out of Thanksgiving dinner like your ass was on fire after she sent you that thirst trap.”

Cassian blinks. Of course; the bastard peeked at his phone the last time they were together. No reason other than that.

“It wasn’t a thirst trap,” he grits, on high defense now. “It was a perfectly appropriate photo that you never should have seen.”

Az’s lips twitch upward. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you reacted to it.”

This— this is exactly why he doesn’t want anybody to know about him and Nesta. Because even though a weight has been lifted off his chest with Azriel knowing, an even heavier weight has started to sink in his stomach.

For months, Nesta has been his alone. And the idea of opening their relationship up to others’ opinions and judgements...

“Cass?”

He breaks his death glare at Azriel to find Feyre standing over the couch. He blinks; when did she cross the room? “Yeah?”

“You okay?” She glances between him and Azriel, clear-cut concern in her eyes. “You’ve been a little out of it tonight.” These last several weeks, actually, he knows she’s thinking.

He pulls his best Nesta face, all emotion carefully hidden behind a wall so blank it’s almost dead. “I’m doing fine,” he says simply. “Don’t worry about me; worry about Rhys spending all of your money on cards tonight.”

When Feyre still looks hesitant, Cassian summons his signature smile, the one that puts everyone and their babies at ease. He knows he’s succeeded when Feyre’s shoulders sink and she smiles back, nudging him in the arm. “Alright,” she says begrudgingly. “Just don’t keep pulling that long face. It’s Christmas Eve.”

***

Nesta is still hiding out in the kitchen while Elain finishes up a roast chicken when Feyre wanders in, eager to play the doting host.

Nesta pauses in the middle of telling Elain what she got earlier today for Secret Santa, waiting for Feyre to interrupt or insert her opinion, but Feyre only leans against the kitchen entrance and waits for her to go on.

“... So I thought it was hideous, but she insisted I keep it,” Nesta finishes cautiously.

“Who insisted you keep what?” Feyre speaks up.

“My friend Emerie got me a Christmas sweater.” Nesta waves a hand. “It looks like it came out of the recycling bin of a thrift shop, but I think she legitimately expects me to wear it tomorrow.” She huffs a lighthearted laugh, remembering how she and Emerie had cackled over the tacky gift together.

She finds she doesn’t mind talking about Emerie to her sisters. Rather, it’s something that brings her pride, like how she imagines new parents talk about their babies.

“Ain’t that amazing?” Elain speaks from where she arranges the chicken onto a platter, her back turned to both sisters. “While we were worried this whole time about Nesta being holed up in her room, she’s been going out and making friends.” Her voice is tight with a forced cheerfulness that only their mother could have taught her. Nesta stiffens in her seat at the island.

“Oh,” Feyre says shortly, blinking. “I see.”

The easiness Nesta had from talking about her friends slips away, being replaced with her usual mask of steel and ice. “See what?”

“Nothing,” Feyre defends, moving to lean against the island across from her. “We barely ever speak anymore, Nesta. How are we supposed to know what goes on in your life these days?”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Nesta says coldly.

“She’s also in therapy.” Elain still hasn’t turned around from the stove. “How exciting.”

Nesta whips her head toward Elain in disbelief at the information spilled. So she is angry at Nesta for avoiding her calls.

“Therapy?” Feyre looks taken aback. “For what?”

Elain swoops in before Nesta can choose between scoffing or rolling her eyes at Feyre’s question. “Who cares what it’s for?” She finally turns around, bracing her hands on the counter. “Does it even matter?”

Nesta tastes venom on her tongue, and it wants to be spit in her sisters’ direction. “If you have something you want to say, Elain, say it. The passive-aggressive act makes you look like a fake bitch.”

Elain flinches, and Feyre looks away to hide her tired disappointment. “We still can’t have a single conversation without you going from zero to a hundred, I see.”

You haven’t even seen a hundred yet. “Tell me,” Nesta demands. “What did I do to mortally wound you this time? Is it the fact that I have a life away from your incestuous circle, or am I missing something else?”

Feyre scoffs incredulously, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s the fact, Nesta, that you have it in yourself to be good to everyone except for your sisters! When it was just me you hated, I could accept it fine, but then you left Tennessee and shut Elain out, too. With no explanation.” Hurt dances across her face. “It’s been years and it’s only gotten worse. And after months of near silence you show up here like—like you would rather be part of any family except ours.”

She keeps saying we, like her and Elain’s feelings are one and the same. Like they’ve talked about this before.

Nesta crosses her arms. “So you are mad I have friends.”

“How is that your takeaway from this?” Feyre has to struggle to keep her voice down.

Nesta’s heated eyes cut to Elain, who’s been silent during this whole exchange. “And you agree with her? Or is there something else you’d like to add?”

Elain opens her mouth to respond, but Nesta doesn’t give her the chance. “If I haven’t changed, then neither have you two,” she seethes. “You still think this is the fucking Disney channel or something, where we’re all best friends who have sisterly sleepovers and text each other good night. Wake the fuck up,” she bares her teeth. “Stop expecting things from me and just be happy I’m alive and doing well— because that’s the bare minimum that I’ve always given you!”

But no matter what Nesta says or does, they will never understand her. She will never be enough for them. The realization sinks in with a rattling finality at the resigned look on Feyre and Elain’s faces: like they didn’t hear a word she said. Nesta wonders when they stopped listening.

A throat clears behind her, and she whirls to see Feyre’s boyfriend at the doorway. His pretty-boy face is drawn tight, barely hidden rage simmering in the violet of his eyes. “Pizza’s here,” he says curtly.

Elain blinks tears out of her eyes, spinning back to the counter to pick up the platter of chicken. “Of course,” she says quickly, “the rest of the food is ready too.”

Feyre leaves the kitchen first, then Elain, then Rhysand with a final deadly glare at Nesta.

Nesta doesn’t know how long she stands there in the same spot, unmoving. Only when her phone buzzes from the island countertop does she turn.

Gwyn: did u get me a vibrator for christmas???

***

Cassian hasn’t looked at her all night.

Nesta doesn’t know what she expected when she told him they couldn’t be together in public, but it wasn’t this: him, laughing and talking with everybody at the table save for her. Like she isn’t even sitting there.

Nothing has changed. Least of all her.

She swallows around a mouthful of dry meat, feeling herself slip back into that old, familiar role: the background character. Except tonight is different, because everyone saw Elain’s watery eyes and Rhysand’s furious stare when they left the kitchen, and now Nesta is being ignored on purpose.

The buzzing in her head is louder than any conversation going on at the table anyway. Whether her sisters would believe her or not, Nesta had made plans. Plans to call more often, to make amends for the years of radio silence, to reintroduce herself to Feyre and Elain as a better sister. Not now, but one day— when she finally learned how.

Plans that were all dashed in the span of one conversation. Her knuckles turn bone white around her fork. So much for getting better.

The longer the night goes on, the more hurt and rage swells in her chest, until she fears she can’t say a word without screaming. How long will it be like this between her and her sisters, between her and the world? As if Nesta owes them all one thing or another: her time, her energy, her best smile and her affections. Why does everything have to be an exchange, and why is she always the one giving something up?

Cassian is the one person who always let her be, adjusting to her whenever she couldn’t adjust to him. But she’s having trouble remembering that fact when he won’t even spare a glance her way. When he’s sitting there laughing with Mor in a way he never laughs with her.

“And what about you, girl?”

Amren’s voice drags Nesta out of her haze, and she realizes the woman is speaking to her.

Nesta doesn’t like the way Amren speaks— with barely hidden cruelty, like she takes joy in watching people squirm.

Nesta blinks. “What?”

A slow smile creeps up Amren’s red mouth. “I said,” she repeats, “are you finding the pay for your work at Night Court sufficient?”

“Amren,” Cassian starts, but Nesta is already on her feet. The table falls silent.

“I have to...” she mumbles unintelligibly. She can’t come up with an excuse. Shaking her head, she leaves the table without finishing her sentence. Leaves the dining room and the whole damn apartment.

***

The slam of the door shutting echoes through the penthouse. No one speaks for a long moment, and Cassian finds himself filling the silence: “Was that necessary, Amren?”

Amren sneers. “What did I do?”

Because he’s counting down the seconds until it’s acceptable to go after Nesta, Cassian indulges her. “Not everyone has it in them to play Mean Girls with you whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah, but did she have to ruin dinner over it?” Mor snorts, reaching over and plucking a roasted Brussels sprout from Nesta’s nearly untouched plate.

Feyre stands up. “I’ll go after her—”

“Don’t bother,” Cassian says, earning a raised brow from Azriel. Elain looks inclined to agree with Cassian until he adds, “I’ll check on her. You don’t need to stress, Feyre.” With a reassuring smile, he pushes out of his seat and heads for the door.

Each casual step toward Nesta lasts a million years, but he finally reaches the hallway beyond the apartment, letting his facade drop in the same breath that the door shuts behind him. Relief wracks his body when he finds Nesta waiting for the elevator, still here.

“Nes,” he calls, hurrying after her.

She punches the elevator button repeatedly, as if that’ll get it to hurry up. He catches up to her and takes hold of her hand, turning her around—

She snatches her wrist out of his grip like she’s been burned, her fingers flexing with pent up emotion. “Not tonight, Cassian.”

“I’ll go home with you, you can tell me what’s wrong—”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?” he demands. She never shuts him out like this.

Nesta stares intently at the elevator doors. “Go back to forgetting I exist.” Her voice is flat.

He scoffs in disbelief. “You’re not serious—”

She whirls on him so quickly he almost stumbles back in surprise. “You didn’t look at me once the entire night.”

Cassian stills, stunned. Is that what this is about? “How could I have?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone knowing about us!”

“So you pretend I’m not there at all?” Hurt flares beneath her angered words.

“I can’t do both.” He fights to keep his voice low, aware of the thin walls. “I can’t look at you and not have everyone see what I feel for you— you’re all over me.” Even Azriel sees it, for God’s sake.

“What’s the truth, then?” she hisses. “Are you a terrible actor or a great one? Because in that apartment I forgot we were even in a relationship.”

“You walked in looking like that,” he gestures wildly at the black sheer mesh hugging her body, “and I was supposed to, what? Act like we were friends?” He hasn’t spent all night nearly losing his mind trying to fulfill Nesta’s wishes, trying not to let his feelings show, to get dragged through the mud for it.

“Is that your best excuse?” Nesta sneers. “I used to be too boring to spare a glance, and now I’m too sexy?” She steps closer to him, bringing them chest to chest. “We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world. That’s why we haven’t told anybody, Cassian.”

Cassian knows a spiral when he sees one, and he’s fighting not to get dragged into Nesta’s. “I know this isn’t about me.” He closes his eyes, praying for calm. “It’s about whatever happened with Feyre and Elain tonight.”

Which is the wrong thing to say, from the way Nesta’s face reddens. “Don’t even fucking go there.”

He doesn’t realize that the elevator has dinged open until Nesta reaches out her arm to stop the doors from closing. “You know nothing about me,” she says heatedly. “You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now. You haven’t. Learned. Anything.”

Cassian almost wishes she would scream senseless things at him like she used to do whenever she was upset— because this refined wrath of hers is so much more hurtful. And it makes him angry, too.

He leans in until his nose is brushing hers. “If this is one of those things where you try to push me away by being cruel, I’m not fucking buying it.”

Like a switch is flipped, the flame in Nesta’s eyes flares out. He sees that dead nothingness and knows he’s lost. “You don’t have to buy it,” she says simply. She steps onto the waiting elevator, and he doesn’t try stopping her. She doesn’t want to be stopped.

Nesta gives him a final look before the doors shut between them. “And I wore this dress for you, asshole.”

Cassian stands there long after she’s gone. Not knowing what to do next.

A muffled laugh breaks through to him from the other side of the walls, and he realizes that everyone has moved back into the living room. Turning around, he goes back inside to his friends.

***

;)

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

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rebelhan · 4 years

Note

May I please request a jealous Geralt followed by fluff? 💖

here you go !!

pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

word count: 1.1k+

warnings: jealousy, tooth rotting fluff

masterlist | ao3 link

Geralt felt distinctly out of place without his armor. His clothing was certainly appropriate for his begrudging attendance of Queen Calanthe’s banquet, and yet he still felt like he’d fit in better with at least his pauldrons strapped on.

Jaskier had no trouble blending in. Of course, he had slept with half of the guests present, and conversation flowed much smoother with no need for introductions. Geralt studied the bard out of the corner of his eye, keeping a watchful eye out for vengeful spouses. When none seemed to be nearby, he redirected his attention to the other side of the hall.

It was easy to find you, it always was. He’d joked that one of his ears was always listening for the distinct sound of your heartbeat, but it was less of a joke than he’d care to admit.

You didn’t just look like you belonged at the banquet, you looked like you could be the guest of honor. You stood with poise, a natural elegance that most could only hope to emulate. There was a flutter in Geralt’s chest and his lips threatened to tug into a smile just from observing your form. Though the feeling was immediately quashed when he noticed the man speaking to you.

He was handsome enough, but he was overbearing, leaning into you, head first. Geralt could see you leaning away by the arch of your back. The brightly colored silks of his clothing and his garish jewelry, coupled with the fact that he was young, indicated that he was here as one of Pavetta’s suitors. So why he was romancing you would be a complete mystery to the Witcher had you not been stealing breaths the moment you stepped into the banquet hall. Hell, you had knocked his breath out too. He was caught between convincing his brain to do anything but scrape his eyes up and down your body and calculating exactly how you had fit this getup in your tiny rucksack.

There was a tug in Geralt’s gut, one that was wholly new, but easy to place. He knew that logically he had no reason to feel jealous. You were clearly uncomfortable, he could tell from your posture. And your heartbeat was steady, so you couldn’t be enjoying this man’s advances too much. And yet there was a particular smile on your face, a smile that he could easily spot in between the guests mulling about from all the way across the room, no Witcher senses necessary. A smile that, until this exact moment, he had assumed was reserved only for himself.

Geralt felt silly about the way his jaw tightened and his inability to look away from the conversation occurring between the two of you. He considered focusing his senses to listen in, but a pang of guilt stopped him from following through.

It was almost a relief when you turned your head towards him, as if you sensed the anger creeping up his spine. The smile on your face remained unchanged. Geralt’s eyes glinted golden, reflecting every shiny piece of jewelry decorating the noble men and women in attendance. But with the look he was giving you, they may as well have consumed by darkness, those of a Witcher on the hunt.

You said something to the man beside you and his face morphed into one of disappointment. In seconds more you slowly made your way across the banquet hall. Half the people you passed parted before you, taking the opportunity to gape. The other half, you stepped gracefully around, their conversations breaking abruptly as they noticed you.

Geralt mapped your path through the crowd with his eyes. The smile on your face never faltered

Then suddenly you were seated beside him. The sound of conversation in the hall quieted considerably as the guests took in the sight of you accompanied by the Witcher. And when they resumed their chatter and the volume rose again, you finally spoke to him.

“Are you enjoying the banquet?” you asked Geralt.

“Yes.” It was a lie. He was very much not enjoying sitting by himself, clutching a half empty goblet, darting his eyes back and forth between you and Jaskier. And he certainly wasn’t enjoying your smile directed at someone other than himself.

You hummed in acknowledgement, but you didn’t sound the least bit convinced of the Witcher’s answer.

“Is that why you’re staring at Jaskier like you want to murder him?” you ask. The bard’s back was thankfully turned, or Geralt would’ve been the recipient of a lecture from the smaller man about scaring off potential bed mates.

Geralt forcibly relaxed his gaze before swiveling his head to you. There was that smile again. Looking at it up close, Geralt felt something in his chest somewhere between relief and anger. He leaned into the anger without meaning to.

“You seemed to be enjoying the banquet plenty,” he said. Geralt winced at the malice coming from his own mouth, but you didn’t even waver. Your smile only grew in brightness. He would’ve been unnerved had he not been so enamored.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked. He meant for it to sound harsher, but you always did bring out the softest sides of him.

“You’re jealous,” you teased. The mirth was returning to his eyes, despite your accusation hitting its target perfectly.

He sighed. “Well how am I supposed to react when you smile like that,” he raises his eyebrows, “at someone else?”

You scooted closer to him until your hand could cover his on the table. You looked up at him. At this proximity, his fear inspiring golden eyes could only be described as loving.

“What happened to that ear you always keep on my pulse?” you asked, one eyebrow quirked questioningly.

“What about it?” he challenged, almost indignant.

“Well, what is it telling you now?”

Geralt took in a breath and willed himself to tune out the sounds of the banquet. Slowly the noises around him faded, conversation dimmed to a murmur like he was listening to them from underwater. And through the gentle noises, an unsteady thump made itself known to his ears.

It was faster than it was before, threatening to speed up even further. And your breath was stuttering. A look up at your eyes and your pupils were blown, black eclipsing the color of your irises.

And then he was back in the banquet, surrounded by noblemen and women, all vying for the same prize. And here he was with you. You with the loveliest smile he never felt like he deserved, heartbeat racing just for him, breaths jumping just for him.

Geralt’s lips lifted into a lopsided smirk and you looked almost shy for once. Then in a quiet voice you nearly split his heart in two. “You needn’t worry. My smile is my own, but my heart is yours to keep.”

----

thanks for reading! :]

#geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #witcher x reader #witcher x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #geralt imagine #geralt smut #witcher imagine #the witcher imagine #requested

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comrade-kenobi · 3 years

Text

All You Ever Wanted- Din Djarin x Reader

Dear @hellcaster901

Happy Holidays, love! Here’s your gift, I hope you like it! You get Din a little Life Day present and he doesn’t know what to say. Also for narrative purposes Grogu is chillin with his Aunt Peli.

The title is Pedro’s favorite Black Keys song...

Tags: Mostly fluff, with allusions to some spice.

Word Count: 1,582

Din held you close to his chest; close enough to feel the rapid thrum of his heart as he came down from the high of love making. Absolutely mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your breaths. With blissed out eyes he watched as his rough fingers ghosted up and down the soft skin of your spine, leaving delicate goosebumps in their wake.

“I love you,” he breathed, as he drank in the tender warmth of your skin against his.

“And I love you,” you smiled, then nudged his crooked nose with your own.

He replied by kissing you, soft and deep. It was easy for him to get lost in your kisses. The softness of your lips, and the way they moved against his, like that's what they were made to do. Sometimes he got so lost, he could swear he was dreaming. Before you came along he had convinced himself he was destined for a life of solitude. Wandering from planet to planet, bounty to bounty with no real place to call his own. But when he held you like this; tight to his chest-- he knew he was home.

You nipped playfully at his bottom lip and broke him out of his reverie. The smile you’d given him when he pulled away sent a flow of warmth through his entire body. Radiating out from his heart, to the tips of his fingers, and down to his toes.

“OH!” you exclaimed, as you pulled away from him abruptly. Taking the bedsheets, and all of the warmth with you. “I almost forgot!”

Din’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he watched you dart across the floor of The Crest to your duffle bag. The stolen sheet flowed behind you, like a ladies elegant cape, as you went. You rummaged through the sack for a moment or two. Exclaiming “AH-HA!” when you finally found whatever it was you’d been searching for.

“Happy Life Day!” you yelled, as you held a small package out for Din to see. Your eyes gleamed in the dim lights of the hull as you ran towards the nest of blankets the two of you had started calling a bed.

“Life Day?” Din asked, his eyebrows had shot so high they nearly disappeared under the shaggy brown curls plastered to his sweaty forehead.

“It’s a Wookie tradition. Like a holiday.” You explained as you gestured wildly, the gift still held tightly in your hands. It’s contents clanged around in the small box.

“Since when are you a Wookie, riduur?” Din chuckled, he had been with you for a while now, and even a year into marriage you still managed to surprise him. “You’re not nearly hairy enough.”

“Shut up,” you replied; and swatted at his chest with the ghost of a smirk threatening to spread across your face. “My best friend in the rebellion was a Wookie. Now do you want the present, or not?”

“Of course I do.” He replied as tried, in vain, to still the laugh in his chest, and force a serious expression.

“That’s what I thought.” You sassed as you crawled into his waiting lap. With your chest puffed out with pride, you waved the small box in Din’s face. Tempting him to grab it. But when he reached for it you pulled it away with a frown.

“Kiss me first.” You insisted, as your lips pulled into a childish pout. Din rolled his eyes but happily obliged.

“Thank you” you beamed, appreciatively running your thumb over his plush lips when he pulled away.

“What is it?” Din asked with a frown. He ran his fingers over the paper covering the box and admired it for a moment. The paper was plain and brown, but you’d taken the time to decorate it with tiny, hand drawn, trees. On the top it read, “For my riduur.” In what Din assumed was your fanciest script.

He went to rip off the paper and felt, almost, dirty doing it. You had clearly put a lot of effort into making it look nice, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin that. So he carefully went along the seams, and peeled the paper off without making a single tear.

When he opened the box, he found a fancy looking vibroblade inside and what looked like some spare parts.

“What are these?” Din asked, holding up some of the cold metal pieces.

“They’re for the vibroblade,” you explained, reaching into the box that was settled between the two of you to pick the blade up. “I can mod your vambraces with them, so the vibroblade pops out of the bottom.”

“I-I, uh, don’t know what to say…” Din stuttered, not quite sure what to make of the whole thing. He’d never celebrated a holiday before, or gotten a gift. When it came to things like this, he had to admit, he was always more than a little lost.

“Look at the blade, love.” You encouraged, taking his hand in yours and carefully placing the sharp blade on his rough palm.

His calloused fingers traced over the smooth, cool, metal before he turned it over. On the other side he found his signet, a Mudhorn, carved perfectly into the side.

“Did you…?” He started, but trailed off. Utterly distracted by the pure beauty of what he held in his hand.

“I engraved it,” you finished for him, “it’s why I was so twitchy whenever you dropped into the hull this week. I wanted it to be a surprise…”

The words you spoke barely registered on Din’s radar. He was far too busy admiring his gift. No one had ever gotten him a gift before, let alone one with this much thought put into it. The blade was shined to absolute perfection, and the signet was carved in deep. Adding it to his armor was the icing on the cake. Now he could carry a part of you within his armor forever. The thought of it brought a tear to his eye.

“Do you like it?” your timid voice broke back into his thoughts. But he still couldn’t speak. How was he supposed to put how he felt about this, about you into words. So instead he dropped the vibroblade and took you into his arms. Pouring all of his unspoken feelings into a kiss.

It was fiery and sweet. His tongue hungrily swept over your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. And let him in you did, opening for him with a pleased groan, the kind that got his blood pumping, and sent shockwaves down his spine.

He tangled his hands into your hair in an effort to bring you closer to him as his tongue danced over yours. No matter how close he brought you to him it would never be enough, he always wanted to feel you closer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You panted, pulling away so you could catch your breath. Din nodded fervently, and chased after you for another kiss. You laughed at his enthusiasm and suddenly he felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. You’d gone through all this trouble for him, and he had nothing for you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, as if sensing the sudden change in his mood.

“I- you, you got me this perfect thing and…” he trailed off, leaning back from you and rubbing the back of his neck, “and I didn’t get you anything.”

“Din,” you took his face in your hands and forced him to meet your eye line. Instinctively he leaned into your touch, sighing at how gently you touched his face. The feel of your fingers on his cheeks easing his worries to almost nothing.

“It’s okay, I have you, and that’s enough.” You assured him, the certainty in your voice made his heart skip a beat in the best possible way. As you spoke your fingers played absently at the beskar mythosaur skull hanging from his neck, and he got an idea. If he could carry a part of you with him, he wanted you to be able to do the same.

“Here,” he began, lifting the worn leather cord from his neck, and placing it around yours. “I want you to have it.”

“Din,” you started, emotions welling up in your throat, “you don’t have too…”

“I know.” Din cut you off, running the rough pad of his finger along your chest, admiring the way the necklace looked on you. “I want to. I want you to have a piece of me, just as I have a piece of you.”

“Mhi solus tome, Mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You whispered, in near perfect Mando’a and Din’s heart soared.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.” Din repeated in basic as the tears that rimmed his eyes threatened to fall.

“Happy Life Day, Riduur.” You said, pressing your forehead to his in a keldabe kiss, just as you would before you were married.

“Happy Life Day, Cyar’ika.” Din replied, closing his eyes as he soaked in the moment; your wedding vows still buzzing around in his head. If there was one thing in his life he was absolutely certain of, it was you. And he was never letting you go. This would be the first of many Life Day’s together, and next year he would make sure he bought you a gift.

#pedros12daysofchristmas #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #Pedro Pascal #din djarin x you #din djarin fic

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Love On Me

Ancient Emperor!Kylo Ren x Goddess!Reader

4k ; N S F W (ritual sex, public sex, festival sex, oral sex, PIV, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, come eating, come as lube, body worship, appeasing the gods, crying during sex, conception/trying for pregnancy)

It’s golden, in the temple. He is the only one alone now, although he has been there all day, has shut himself away and has laid his palms bare before the goddesses above. His loyal subjects have done the same, have filled this space with flowers, with fruit, with bread, with the bounty of the goddess’ blessings, have kneeled and prayed themselves hoarse through the course of the day. But now, the sun is setting, and as it smooths across the sky it shines a buttery light thick over the land, the kingdom, the empire.

Kylo’s empire.

It is the last day of the harvest festival, the day that the entire empire has been looking forward to, and as soon as the sun disappears beyond the ocean horizon, they will get the show they have been waiting for. Nine days of feasting, of grand parties, of sweat-slick orgies citywide, and it all comes down to this, this final act of consummation to officially begin the harvest season. With reverent hands, Kylo kneels before the altar, the shrine, in the temple.

Your shrine, in your temple.

He prays, eyes closed and head bowed, prays to the goddess of the harvest, to the goddess of fertility. He prays that this festival might please them, that the worship might catch their attention, might make them look favorably down upon the empire. It is imperative that this goes well, or else the festival will all be for naught.

Kylo was granted the vision in a dream, a great and glorious dream one evening many moons ago. In it, the goddesses stepped forth from the stars and called out to him, gave him the instructions for how to appease them, what he must do in order to secure prosperity for his people. The instructions were clear, and as he awoke in a cold sweat in your bed, he immediately roused you to speak them to you, but you already knew. It seemed as though the goddesses had told you both in the same dream, a dream which neither of you were willing to ignore.

And this is how Kylo finds himself here, before your shrine which is so populated with offerings that he can barely see you, for your statue is almost buried in piles and piles of gifts. Cuts of wheat and leavened bread, grapes and apples and pears, rich citrus fruits like oranges and limes, cherries and strawberries among fig leaves and vines, and a multitude of flowers, beautiful and blooming.

This is how Kylo finds himself, half naked and kneeling, head touching the marble floors as he chants and whispers prayers, asks the goddesses to hear him, hear his pleas for fertile subjects, fertile lands, prosperous wealth and a bountiful harvest.

In his prayers, he can hear the parade ascending the mountain where your temple is built. It sits atop the highest peak in access to the Nabooian people, and they are making the journey up the many many steps carved out of the middle of the stone, so that they might bare witness to this ritual.

Kylo stands then, for the sun is beginning to set quicker, the sky turning from a blazing orange gold, to a softer orange pink, the hint of purples and blues creeping around the edges of the horizon. His ceremonial trousers jingle slightly as he walks through the temple straight down towards the entrance. He is in deep rich red robes, the edged trimmed with gold rope coils and beads made from diamonds. He wears only these and a sash which holds it against his skin, his torso and arms completely bare.

He passes a large ceremonial bed, which has been placed in the center of the temple so that all who come may get a good view of the ritual. It is covered in lush cushions and soft sheets, plush pillows filled with downy feathers, that Kylo might prop underneath your hips when he comes inside you. He passes this bed and makes his way to the entrance, where he stands and waits.

The parade is close, he can hear the procession much more clearly now. What the goddesses had demanded in the dream, Kylo has made a reality. First are the acrobats and the gymnasts, who cartwheel and jump and skip with long ribbons in their hands, moving in formations that took months to rehearse. Following them are rows and rows of musicians who beat their drums and blow their trumpets to a steady march as dancers twirl and move around them, their red dresses flowing with every step.

Behind the musicians and dancers come the military guard, fifty soldiers atop white stallions all dressed in red and gold ceremonial armor, which is polished so brightly that Kylo can see the glint of the setting sun reflected off of the breastplates. They are led by Captain Phasma, head of the military and Kylo’s dear friend, up the mountain.

Then there is Goliath, of course. She is decorated with golden earrings and her collar is even more impressive for this ritual. She stalks behind the military, prowling and snarling, roaring performatively. She likes being the center of attention, likes baring her teeth for all to see how sharp they have grown. She protects you always, and she protects you now, for close behind Goliath are the six chosen warriors which have been given the honor to carry you through the streets.

You are reclined on a cushioned couch, your body thinly veiled by red silk so sheer that it looks as though you’re not wearing anything at all. Of all the sights, of all the display of this power of his empire, you are always the most gorgeous, the most impressive. Behind you, finally, is the entirety of the kingdom.

Some will be so lucky as to fit inside the temple and watch, but the rest will not. They will sit outside, crowd against the temple walls, stand on the steps in the mountainside, line the streets as they do their duty in bearing witness to this ritual.

As the parade comes ever closer, the temple begins to fill. The acrobats stop cartwheeling, the musicians change their tune, the dancers line the perimeter of the temple floor, the military dismount their horses and climb the steps and wait on the third story of the temple, looking down over the railings to ensure no danger will befall you. Goliath gives Kylo a deadly glare as if a warning that if he hurts you, he’ll be a dead man, before lowering her head and allowing him to scritch just behind her ears. If tigers could purr, Kylo thinks, she would.

And then – then then then there’s you. You, in your divine beauty, you, your body which glows like the sun itself, atop a cushioned couch that is carried up the steps of the temple. You are wearing nothing but a ceremonial skirt, a thin scrap of fabric which is slung low on your hips. You are completely covered in golden body chains, arm bands, bracelets and rings, and Nabooian pearls drip off of nearly every piece. Your face is covered by the red veil, but he can still see you, and oh how he is breathless at the sight.

Kylo doesn’t allow your feet to touch the ground when the couch is put down. He picks you up and carries you to the altar, and as he turns to enter the temple once again, all the loyal subjects which have followed the parade do as well. They cram in as much as they can, lovers seating one another atop their laps so that there might be more room for as many people as possible.

The drummers begin then, a slow and steady rhythm. This drumming is unlike that of the parade, which was festive and fun – no, no this is serious, this is important, this cannot be fucked up in any way shape or form, lest the harvest will fail and many will perish.

“Ready?” You ask him, voice barely above a whisper so that only he may hear you, and he nods.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” Kylo replies, as he lifts the veil from your face, revealing you to the goddesses above.

He unclasps the piece of fabric which provides you any semblance of modesty. You in turn, untie the sash which holds up his ceremonial trousers, the both of you bare to one another before the altar. Stepping before the altar together, you hold your hands and kneel, press your foreheads to the floor and send prayers as loudly and as hopefully as you can, up to the goddesses.

Bless us, o Goddesses above, hear our pleas.

Bless us, o Goddesses above, recognize our efforts.

We thank you for the fields in which we till, for the seeds which we plant, for the fruit which we eat.

We thank you for the children which grow healthy, the mothers who live to rear them.

We ask for this once again, we come before you and we ask for these blessings.

Bless us, o Goddesses above, with these gifts – fertile soil, fertile subjects, prosperous wealth and bountiful harvest.

Kylo’s subjects begin to chant then, in the ancient tongue reserved for such rituals, such occasions as this. The sun has gone down entirely now, bathing the temple in the moonlight and the glow of a thousand candles which have been lit earlier in the day.

You and Kylo rise, turning towards one another and smearing sacred oils across one another’s body, slicking each other up so that neither of you may chafe or grow sore from the long night of sex that’s about to happen. You smile, for Kylo’s hands are shaking as he cups your breasts, rubs oil across your nipples, and then carries you once again.

He leads you to the bed in the middle of the temple, lays you down upon the sheets and climbs up after.

Your legs part easily for him, settling yourself on your back on the bed. It is comfortable, you sigh out happily and Kylo’s heart soars. He did well, he has pleased you in this small way, and that will surely please the goddesses, for they act through you. He wants to provide for you in all things, as you provide for him, for his people.

He pushes your knees aside and kisses down from your knee to your inner thigh, hot wet kisses which suck harsh bruises into the flesh there. He builds this path with his teeth and tongue on both your legs, until he takes a deep breath and shoves his face against your pussy.

Immediately, your hands twist in the sheets, and your legs flatten down against the cushions which surround you. Kylo drinks down your juices, lets your slick run in rivulets down his chin as he eats your pussy well, eats it right. He drinks from the well of your body, directly pulls the wealth out of your pussy, sweet and golden and all for him.

“Oh!” You moan loud loud loud, and the audience jumps, claps once, the sound of thousands of feet landing upon the temple floors a boom like thunder in the night -- they will get the goddesses attention this evening, if it is the last thing they do.

The dancers begin to move on the temple floor. They do not dare come any closer than a step away from the walls, do not dare interrupt or invade your space, but they are overcome with the awe inspiring power of the goddesses which flow through you, and as you moan again, the audience jumps again, begins to stamp their feet in time with the drums which beat steady.

“Kylo – yes! Yes, oh yes!” You gasp high and breathy, and with each noise that spills from your lips, the entire kingdom chants, they clap, they stomp their feet and rumble the earth. Even those outside the temple, even those down the mountain, in the city, they all move in time, all participating in this ritual.

Kylo’s tongue plunges into your cunt and he rubs at your walls with the thick tip of it, his nose pressing against your clit. He shakes his head back and forth, rub rub rubbing your pussy with his lips, his goatee scratching up your inner thighs, and you cry out your first orgasm of the evening.

When you come, the drums seem to beat louder, as your mouth drops open and your eyes shut tight. The light from the candles seem to blaze brighter, as those standing in the temple link arms with people next to them and sway and stomp their feet in time.

Kylo needs to coax two more orgasms from you before all these citizens, before these goddesses, and he does not waste time.

“Kylo – Kylo I want more, give me more.” You command even as your chest heaves, as your lungs gulp down as much air as they can.

He pulls back enough to rest his cheek upon your thigh, and instead of his tongue now fills you with his fingers. You are relaxed enough that he can push three in with no problem, you take them easily, you moan out loud, and like thunder, the audience claps.

“Yes! Oh yes, faster, harder, more more more,” You plead, you order, you demand.

He fingers you open, fingers you good and long, the sound of your come pushing around his fingers and fucking back into you is intoxicating, the smell of your body covered in the oils and Kylo’s own pheromones drives him insane.

He lowers his mouth back down to your pussy while he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, sucks on your clit good and hard, until you cry out a second orgasm, let it shatter through you, your thighs trembling, knees turning inward.

But he’s not done with you yet, not yet, so he pulls you and pushes you around, so that he can bend your legs up over his head, so that he can get into you deeper, in a new angle that has you sobbing loud. Your cries spill down your cheeks in hot tears, and the audience jumps to the sound of it, earth rumbling beneath your feet, buildings rattling as you take four of his big thick fingers, harder rougher fast fast faster, chest heaving, nipples so stiff as Kylo bends down to suck on them, to pull them hard between his teeth.

“Kylo!!” You scream, your third orgasm comes quickly after you’re so blissed out from the first two, and your body convulses at being pushed to a third.

It is while your body is wrecked with orgasm, that Kylo carefully, quickly rearranges your legs once again so that he can push his cock into your waiting pussy. It is spasming around him and clenching down hard, and you wail out in pleasure as he fills you so wholly, so completely.

“Oh stars, stars (Y/N) – oh!” His voice booms out through the temple, and now the audience shifts from clapping their hands to rubbing their palms together, and this makes it sound like thick sheets of rain, as hundreds of hands slide together.

He fucks you on your back like this for a while, nothing fancy, nothing elaborate, just long and hard and hot and heavy. He bends himself over and suckles at your breasts, bites deep dark crescent shapes into your flesh – not just on your breasts, but your upper arms, your rib cage, your stomach. He covers you in them, laves his tongue over them as his cock pounds into you, draws out the most wanton and passionate noises from you.

The first time he comes, he groans through it, hips stuttering still against you, spilling into your wanting pussy. He grunts out your name, and the sound of rain cascades all around him, though it is a product of the audience, and not real water, he knows.

But maybe, maybe the goddesses will bless you both with rains this evening. The temple ceiling is cut away just above the bed, this is why it is positioned in this particular spot in the middle of the temple. Perhaps if they hear you, they will let it rain and the harvest will be exponentially strong and fruitful this year.

With shaking hands and sweat slipping down his body, his arms and his legs puddling and beading in the pit of your throat, he reaches for fruit which has been placed on the bed. He eats it and regains his strength, his stamina, and he feeds it to you in turn, feeds you as his hips push his come deeper inside your cunt.

He is still hard, he must come two more times tonight before the ritual can be complete, so he down the food and lets the fuel fill him as he slides out of your fluttering pussy only long enough to roll you over onto your stomach.

“Ahh – oh! Oh yes, Kylo, please, don’t stop, don’t ever stop -- !” You chant, beg, plead as he fucks you from behind, as the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the air.

With each of your moans they jump and clap, with each of his, they wisp their hands together, the drummers drum and the dancers dance, and they all chant chant chant deep in their throats, low hums which fill your skull with the pleasant buzz of noise.

“Please please please!!” You’re sobbing so loud that Kylo nearly worries for you, worries that he’s hurting you or causing you distress, but every time he pulls away to check, you reach behind yourself and grasp his wrist, grasp his hip and push yourself right back onto his cock, desperate and wild for more.

Your toes curl in the sheets and your back arches so that your ass is in the air, your shoulders pressed down down down against the mattress as you drool into the pillow.

Kylo grunts and groans and snaps his hips hard and fast, chasing his second orgasm. A loud yell tears itself through his throat when he reaches it, when that white hot ball of pleasure bursts through you, when he cannot contain how good it feels, how transcendent.

But he cannot revel in it for long, no, for he must come a third time and the ritual is complete. He reaches over for a jug filled with sweet juices, guzzles it down and tries not to choke. Something in the fruit and in the juice acts as a means to keep his cock hard, though by now it is throbbing and pulsing, dumping come into your cunt with wild abandon. He makes you drink too, so that you might be strong, as he rolls underneath you onto his back.

“R-ready?” He asks, as you straddle his hip, your entire body loose and pliant, shaking shaking shaking as thick tears make tracks down your cheeks.

“Yes, please, please Kylo, one more I need it, I want it.” You nod, eyes clear and present even though you’re fucked out of your mind.

Your legs settle around his sides and you ride him, bouncing on his cock. This is the final time, the last round of the ritual. He splays his hands across your breasts and holds them so that your jewelry might not accidentally hurt you from the effort, and he groans out loud, shouts his moans up towards the heavens.

The drums beat beat beat, and the audience stamps their feet and claps and whooshes their hands, a storm with no water, thunder with no lightning. Your throat is open and moans spill out, his name hot on your tongue as you rock your body onto his cock.

“Yes! Yes oh – right there, right there – harder, fuck me harder!” Your head tips back and your hair cascades down your back, all your jewelry glowing in the light of the candles, the room so hot, smelling so strongly of your sex, of the perfume you were bathed in. You cry cry cry on his cock, desperate for more and overwhelmed, overstimulated at the same time.

Your pussy has never been so filled, as it is when he comes into you for the third time of the evening. It is dripping everywhere, sloshing down your thighs in big sticky ropes, thick and viscous and making such obscene noises that Kylo’s cock throbs and pulses out another load just because he can’t help it.

He quickly rolls you onto your back and pulls your legs up, shoves some of the pillows underneath your hips so that you can remain propped up, so that anything that can’t fit doesn’t get lost. He needs every single drop inside of you to appease the goddesses, to appease you.

He then rubs your clit so hard and fast that you scream out one final orgasm, scream out Kylo!! – and lightning strikes across the sky, read and bright, electric in the evening sky. Thunder cracks and booms, and the skies open up as a torrential downpour drenches the temple, making the drummers crescendo their rhythm, making the audience shout and yell and cheer, all the candles blown out by a strong gust of wind, as rain soaks the ceremonial bed.

“They’ve heard us.” You grin, manic with your eyes too bright.

The rain is not cold, no, it is warm and welcoming, and Kylo presses soft kisses all across your face in the dark as the audience continues to cheer and cheer. They all slowly begin to file out of the temple, off to dance in the rain, to bask in the glory of the goddesses who have blessed them with the promise of a successful harvest season.

You and Kylo laugh against one another’s lips, completely caught up in your own bubble, as Kylo lifts wet fruits to your lips and feeds you once again, joy sparking through his veins like the lightning which crackles in magnificent streaks across the sky.

“You did it my Emperor.” You grin at him, grasp his face in between your hands and kiss him there in the rain, kiss him as you close your eyes against the downpour as it shallowly floods the temple.

“No, no my blossom, we did it together.” Kylo grins back, kisses you and lets himself be kissed, elated, and so in love.

When the last of the audience has gone, and all the musicians and soldiers and even Goliath herself have left, the temple doors are sealed shut, and the rain moves west, down across the city towards the fields which will drink up the water and use it to grow luscious crops.

“We must do this every year,” You say, your eyes bright, little droplets clinging to your lashes as the pitter patter of rain fades from the temple, “Every year as they demand it, we must do it.”

“It would be an honor.” Kylo agrees. He rubs your stomach, wills it to happen, wills for you to get pregnant. His people will have beautiful and healthy babies, this he knows, but he wants that for you too, wants that for the both of you.

And as you two both look up through the roof of the temple at the stars as they shine brightly, you thank the heavens once again. Exhausted, you move from the soaking wet ceremonial bed, through the temple on shaky legs, legs which can barely hold you up. Come trickles down your thighs but neither you nor Kylo mind, you had been propped up on the pillow for long enough, you’re both sure.

You lead him behind the altar, through a secret passage and into a secret room, where there is a small bed in which he normally lays you down to worship your body. For now, it is enough to curl up against one another in the warm dry sheets, to lay your love down upon one another, and fall into a deep sleep.

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Note

dearest comfy <3 what if Triss was a blacksmith AND Eskel was a blacksmith??? What then?? Enemies to lovers maybe? <3

Ellie. I love you. I love this prompt. And I love Trisskel. This is a triple threat of wonderfulness. Hopefully the fic delivers 💖💖

Warnings: no violence, some hostile Triss (mostly internal), lmao is this considered idiot and exasperated to lovers? idk you tell me, its pretty chill tbh, unless you don’t like daggers. there's lots of daggers.

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Triss was furious.

She had spent her whole life stoking a furnace, shadowing her father, sweating, suffering burn after burn and later cut after searing cut as she learned to forge all sorts of weaponry. Now, this teddy bear-shaped child was setting up shop in her courtyard?! Unacceptable. Unbelievable! She’d staked a claim on her territory for market day early. So early she hadn’t even made her first blade. Her father still had her hammering out decorative discs and fastenings for armor.

One of her customers had the audacity to call him ‘cute’ to her face.

He was no more than twenty-five, tall and stocky like most people expected of a blacksmith, but they claimed there was a softness about him. Triss remembered that softness well, before loss and responsibility really set in. What others saw as sweet, boyish charm she saw as a weakness.

She sent her assistant to assess his booth, maybe flirt and ask some questions, and was even more annoyed when they came back.

“He’s young but he’s not inexperienced. His blades are good. So is his uh… customer service.”

Triss rolled her eyes, “What kind of weapons was he selling? I don’t care about his looks. I have breasts.”

Her assistant shrugged and described his table.

That following week she put in double the hours at her workshop, put the extra flourish on every piece, perfected every detail until her arms ached and her head pounded. She often forgot to drink water, let alone eat, when she got worked up, so her assistant brought her meals.

When the next market day came, she proudly displayed her new wares.

And if she took her hair out of the usual braids and unbuttoned her blouse a bit lower than last week, who would be brave enough to point it out?

This time the newcomer had the gaul to visit her booth.

“Good morning, Miss Merigold,” he dipped in a bow of respect before she even turned around to greet him, straightening up and disarming her with a lopsided grin, “My apologies, I meant to introduce myself after last week’s market. But you were far more efficient at break-down than I.”

She wouldn’t have called him cute by a long shot. He was downright handsome.

Then she remembered they were rivals. There would be no fraternizing with the enemy.

It took her a moment to gather her wits before she responded, “Good morning. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

She knew.

Of course she knew. But he was far better looking than she had assumed, his scars only adding to his alluring presence, and she needed to feel like she had the upper hand.

His smile grew a bit sheepish, “Eskel of the Blue Mountains. I’m your new neighbor… sort of,” he offered his hand over her table and she took it, hoping her hesitation wasn’t too obvious.

“Welcome. I hope the city is treating you well?”

“Well enough,” he acquiesced, letting go of her hand after a moment, “To be truthful, I haven’t left my forge much at all. I’m still getting used to her. But you know how that goes.”

Triss raised her eyebrows and plastered an over-polite smile on her face, “I must say I wouldn’t. I inherited my forge from my father. I learned with her. We get along quite well.”

Eskel was called by someone from his booth as he made to speak. He waved at them to wait a moment and turned back to Triss with a wink, “Well if you have any relationship advice, let me know.”

Before she could think of a polite but not too friendly response, he was gone.

She turned back to her assistant in a huff, “He’s infuriating.”

“He’s dreamy.”

“Hush,” she snapped, pointing to her sketch pad, “Hand me that. Call for me if there’s a large sale or a problem.”

She sketched and planned half the day away. But when she realized how much the materials for her plans would cost she adjusted her cleavage and left her tent. Someone had to drive the hard bargain around here, and she knew her assistant was too kind.

The next week she arrived with a beautiful set of delicate-looking throwing knives, a few different ornate daggers, and a sword fit for a king alongside her typical, practical items. However, she was seeing more than just her flowing hilt designs inlaid with etchings.

Eskel seemed to have had a similar idea.

She wandered past his booth, pretending to buy fabric from the stall next to him, and fumed. It seemed Eskel had a sharper eye than she’d anticipated. He very clearly mimicked her setup and emphasized the smaller wares like she did. He even had the same sign in three different languages about customizations and bulk orders.

This had become all out war.

When her sword sold that day she decided to finish off the dozen or so she had laying in wait for specific orders over the week. She even detailed a breastplate to match for three of them, guessing at the size in reference to the sword as best she could. As she worked she mulled over her new competition. His soft golden eyes that crinkled ever so slightly when he smiled were absolutely aggravating. At least that’s what she told herself. It was simply her competitive nature that had her fixating on this mountain of a man.

She returned the next week with a spread so large she could barely fit it on her table.

Eskel had come back with daggers inlaid with precious stones of dazzling pale blue and sparkling greys and whites. Blue Mountains indeed.

Polite customers started mumbling comparisons to themselves while the brash ones outwardly used the other stall to barter a better price. Every time Eskel was mentioned Triss would bristle, hold back a snarl, and turn on every bit of innocent charm she had.

She began leaving with a lighter cart and a challenging wink from her competition. Over the week she worked her fingers to the bone over fine details and getting the balance absolutely perfect.

After months of competition, months of uncomfortable eye contact, she finally broke when he sold a matching helmet, breastplate, and dagger to one of her most loyal customers.

“Eskel. We need to have a word,” she marched right up to his tent, hands tucked into her half apron at her waist.

He smirked, “That all?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “We can’t keep making the same things.”

“Pretty daggers and ceremonial armor? Why not?” he mimicked her, folding his massive arms over his own chest, leaning back against his table, making him just a little bit taller than Triss rather than the usual towering over her.

She rolled her eyes and stepped a little closer, “We’ve both done well, or I’m assuming you have, but eventually all the nobility this side of the canal will have been sold to. We’ll have saturated the market and be left with an armory full of ornate weaponry with no one to buy it.”

“Preserving the market means one gets to keep said market.”

Triss nodded but Eskel seemed unimpressed.

“And how would you suggest we settle who keeps it?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she just wanted to smack the smug look off his face. Or kiss it. She really wasn’t sure anymore.

She scrambled for a moment, not having entirely thought this through, “A competition.”

He stood to full height and sighed, “What are the terms?”

“One dagger. Same price. Whoever sells first gets the market. The other has to branch out or move.”

Eskel nodded and held his hand out, “Agreed.”

Triss went to take his hand but he gripped her forearm, his whole hand covering much of her elbow. She did her best not to think about how strong his arm felt in her grasp, how when she squeezed she felt a gentle give before she hit muscle.

He winked at her as he released his grasp and turned back to work, “See you next week Merigold.”

Triss worked on a single dagger all week.

She couldn’t get Eskel’s stupid cocky smile or his tanned arms out of her head. The way he looked down at her with that condescending smile enraged her. Her assistant claimed he looked more fond than condescending, but Triss only narrowed her eyes and shook her head. She’d been raised in the marketplace. She knew exactly how men viewed her.

In the end, her dagger looked very fitting for a man like him. Broad, sturdy, a bit curved at the tip, and simply yet elegantly decorated. She cooled it in a liquid mixture her father had made and kept secret, giving the blade a finish similar to copper, but with all the strength of steel.

If she noticed the coincidence she stubbornly ignored it.

Eskel was already set up and waiting when she arrived at the market. She spared him only a curt nod while she set up her booth as if preparing for battle.

He sauntered over to her before dawn had officially broken, blade in hand with what Triss might guess to be a nervous expression.

“Good morning, Merigold,” he cleared his throat and set the dagger currently wrapped in cloth on the table between them, “What have you for our little competition?”

Triss proudly pulled the dagger she had made from her case, handing it over by the hilt as she spoke, “Good morning, Eskel.”

He took the blade and hummed as he inspected it, whispering, “It’s beautiful...”

She wasn’t prepared for such a genuine compliment. Nor was she prepared for how much she loved hearing that word fall from his lips.

“Th-thank you.”

Eskel handed it back before unwrapping his.

Triss almost had to catch her breath. It was gorgeous, gracefully curved, a turquoise stone grip bordered by an ornate handguard. The part that really got her though was the engraving on the blade. She stepped out and around the table to catch more of the sunlight to see what it was and gasped. Little jasmine flowers were etched into the flat of the blade.

She looked up at him in awe, “Why jasmine?”

He gave her a crooked smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “You, ahm- your perfume. It is jasmine right?”

She tilted her head and really looked at him since the first time she met him, “You noticed my perfume?”

“It’s nice,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his leather apron pockets.

Triss thought about all the winks and the ‘good mornings’ and compliments. She’d thought they were just to get her buttered up, but maybe she’d been a little harsher than she needed to.

“It’s stunning,” she breathed, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, not wanting to pull away from his warmth when she had to.

They were interrupted by her assistant and set a price quickly before scurrying back to their tents.

All day they would glance toward the other’s booth, but Triss was no longer checking his table. She was looking for him. His kind smile and boisterous laugh. His easy charm and especially his humility under pressure.

All day she struggled with the realization that she was just a little bit in love with her competition.

Nearing sundown she told her assistant to begin cleaning up and grabbed her coin purse before marching over to his stand once again.

“Did you sell it?” Eskel looked disappointed and she was surprised to be glad to tell him no.

“I have two things to say and I will only say them once, so listen carefully. I realize I’ve been unduly cold to you and I want to apologize. You’ve proven that you’re not only a skilled craftsman but seem to be a good man as well and you don’t deserve it. “

“Apology accepted,” Eskel grinned, leaning back on his table as he waited for her next item.

“Thank you. Now, I’d like to buy the dagger. The one with the jasmines.”

Eskel frowned, “You- you’re forfeiting?”

Triss bit her lip and forced herself to look him in his honey gold eyes, “Yes. Though I hope we can both agree to stay where we are? I think I might miss you if you leave.”

He grinned and pushed off the table, standing just inches from Triss now that he was upright. His hand hesitantly brushed a stray curl out of her eyes as he leaned closer, hesitating to give her time to leave if she wanted, before he brushed his lips against hers. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they kissed. His hands covered her back, pressing her to him and nearly lifting her off her feet.

When they parted they were gasping for breath they both wished they didn't need.

“What about a trade and a truce?”

Triss nodded, standing up on her tiptoes to plant another kiss on his lips, “And dinner.”

Eskel chuckled, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 3 years

Text

Loyalty

A/N: I got inspiration for this piece from the Tumblr account @xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx (I got their permission to tag them!) however I think they’re a wonderful writer and always one of the top ones with a huge amount of Gerard x Reader fics that I keep on crawling back to. They have a work called “Gotham City Rivals” (with two parts) that I fell in love with and decided to do my own spinoff of with their idea. I also don’t know that much about any DC comics, most of Gerard’s character in this is based off of Bruce Wayne, but I didn’t do a bunch of research so I apologize for any inaccuracies. Hope you guys enjoy! Pairing: Batman!Gerard x Catwoman!Reader Word count: 2,781 Warnings: Angst, minor fighting, swear words, injury, mentions of blood.

You slipped off your skin tight suit with a harsh gasp, your teeth grinding together at the rough cuts that the latex and leather of your suit now brushed against. Yet the sounds of a hot shower and the steam that you could already see promised some element of relief to the pain. “You alright?” You heard your boyfriend walk in the room, armor still on in it’s completion besides his mask and gloves that he was currently carelessly throwing on the marble counter.

“Yeah, I think so.” You responded, examining the damage of your wounds in the mirror. “Not the worse I’ve taken.” Reflecting back on the various gun shots and stabs you’ve received over the years.

He came over, standing behind you. His metal armor always looked so good on him, solid black with small decals that you felt lucky enough you only got to see. He gave small kisses on the cuts and bruises along your shoulder and collarbones. It wasn’t in a sexual way, more in a caring one.

He finally decided to take off his suit as well, revealing his soft muscles but well built frame. You always found it funny how comic and cartoon artists portrayed real life heroes. They ignore your hip dips, made your waist the size of a pencil, and even overemphasized your boobs. And with Gerard, well, he was actually a lot like what artists portrayed him as, maybe just a little less triangle shaped.

“Next time,” You sighed as you look at him in the mirror that was now fogging with steam, his eyes on yours through the reflection, “You’re taking more hits.” He lightly laughed.

“Fine.” He agreed with a kind smile, “If you insist.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Gerard, I don’t know anything about those two!” You paced around his marble office trying to explain to him, “They are batshit crazy. They hold no patterns, no compunction, it’s part of their game and it makes it fun for them.” Your feet hastily moved back and forth on the gray tiled floor, the only light source was the sun creeping through the gray clouds outside and small desk-lamps around the large room.

“You’ve worked with her a few times,” He argued back from across his desk where he sat, “You have to know something.” “Those ‘two times’ happened probably five years ago, and it was exchanging files for some cash that’s it.” You sighed, “They don’t have a plan, ever, that’s what I’m telling you. Gerard, I know you’re incredibly smart and think with a plan. And the Joker’s really fucking smart too, but he’s also mentally insane and has no grip on himself other than to kill. He’s like a wild fucking animal.” Your boyfriend leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, his finger holding his temple together as he collected himself. “If I could help you on this, you know I would in a heartbeat.”

“Would you though?” His anger was growing, both he and you knew it. In fact, the entire room and all its objects were now drowning in the tension.

“What?” You asked barely above a whisper and through teeth clenched together, eyebrows furrowing as your vision grew red. There was no response. “If you’re questioning the integrity of my current work then fuck off. You’re too scared to kill the man, and now you’re gonna put some of this one me?” You snapped, he remained emotionless. Damn he was good at his job. “Go fuck yourself Gerard.” And with that, you stormed out of the room and up to your shared bedroom.

This stupid mansion he lived in was still a maze to you, and stomping through it in your utter fit of rage didn’t help, the sound of your feet bouncing off the large halls. It made your head want to explode.

You had never once blown up on him in your two years of dating and partnership. But never had he ever questioned your morals, or more importantly your loyalty. And you were expecting some form of an apology in the least.

Sure, you felt a little bad about bringing up his own methods of working. He had his extremely valid reasons, but it was a button to push in response to him pushing yours. You knew you would apologize eventually, but you needed him to come to you first.

After all, he was the one acting like a child. It was almost like an interrogation of you, despite the fact you had told him countless times that you knew nothing about the Joker or Harley. Other than the two deals you made with them in your early days for some extra money, those two were wild cards.

So you sat in the absurdly big California king with decorated in a gray and black and decided to do some breathing exercises so you didn’t use the wall as a knife throwing target.

It was hours, no, more than hours before you saw your lover again. And if it wasn’t for your stomach grumbling in hunger you would’ve stayed cooped up in the room. You wandered your way into the grand kitchen, beginning to look for whatever you could.

Grabbing a cookie from a batch you had baked just the day before, you began brewing some coffee for yourself. Of course you didn’t hear Gerard walk in, since you two had begun this whole partner/dating thing he had begun picking up on some of your specialties, such as being extremely quiet. On missions and such you were thankful for it, considering his armor was quite clunky, but now you regretted it.

The two of you didn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence, despite the fact that you were only a few feet a way. It was like a silent game, but just completely ignoring each other. It was like the other person didn’t even exist.

But the tension was a whole other level. You literally felt suffocated by how tense it was. And you knew your lover felt the same. With the extremely small glances you took you were able to piece together how he was definitely a form of uncomfortable, his emotions starting to break through, which you knew they would eventually.

You decided once your drink was done to leave the room, leaving Gerard and the extreme conflict behind. Well, some of it at least. And back in your room you grew bored, fast.

You didn’t want to show your weak side, determination to not be the first to apologize flowed through your veins. So, you decided to relieve your stress the way you always did.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You heard Gerard’s voice echo through the hallway next to you. Your skintight suit hugged your body, kitten heels hitting the ground in rhythm.

“Going out.” You replied.

“In your suit?” He questioned, this time grabbing your arm tightly with his hand. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” You questioned, turning to him and eyeing him through your mask, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Don’t test me.” He warned, his voice growing deep. This time, you pulled your arm harshly from his grip, which he didn’t fight back.

“That’s what I thought.” You spat, walking off.

Patrols were not the most enjoyable thing, the only time they were was when you were stressed and needed something to take your mind off of all your problems. A relationship limiting argument between you and your boyfriend was a perfect example.

Very rarely, if ever, did big stuff happen in Gotham. Small crimes like robberies, domestic cases, so on and so forth could be dealt with by the excuse of a police department the city had to offer. You were wondering when the federal government would finally come and kick a shoe up their ass.

It was funny, Gerard with all his power, I mean being the Gerard Way (despite the fact absolutely no one knew he was Batman) still couldn’t convince major officials to bring in more backup despite his numerous requests hidden in comments within conversations. The excuse was always that Gotham didn’t need help: they had Batman.

And let’s not forget his stealthy partner who did a lot of the work as well, the wonderful Catwoman who always got overlooked by the patriarchal influences that still flushed their way into society today. You scoffed at it.

On your earpiece you heard an incoming for an “escalating situation” at one of the prisons, which was just icing on the already destroyed caked for “a bunch of dangerous prisoners just got out.” Great.

It took you less than five minutes to be at the scene, strutting in and flashing your badge. It wasn’t that you actually needed one, it was just for good measure.

You got led through the dozens of police cars lining the outside of the prison all with flashing lights and a few sirens still going, escorted by one of the main detective inside where you were met with another officer talking to the one and only man himself.

Those hazels eyes hidden well under the mask looked up and met yours, softening just a bit from the black optics of Batman’s as you approached him. “Catwoman.” He said in a stern tone.

“Batman.” You responded the same, arms crossed over your chest.

You were briefed on the situation: A bunch of highly dangerous criminals did escape and were on the loose. The police felt that they needed help because some may or may not have ties to the Joker, therefore it made it a case for you and Gerard to deal with.

“Be careful,” Gerard told you, the two of you walking side by side in the street on patrol and looking out, “I don’t want you getting hurt again.” “Please,” You scoffed, “These guys probably have guns and a destructed god complex. I don’t see a problem.” “Some of these are former Arkham patients.” He warned, “They could be dangerous. And crazy.” “Like we haven’t dealt with that before.” You reminded him, “Or more specifically me, because I could have connections, ya know?” A verbal stab for sure. He looked over and glared.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” “So when we get home are you finally going to grow up and have one after the entirety of today?”

“I told you-” Before he could even finish the two of you were surrounded by men with guns and various other forms of highly illegal weaponry. “Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah shit.” You responded as bullets began shooting towards you. A few of them managed to ricochet off of nearby metal beams hitting your attackers, while other nearly missed you as you managed to jump behind them. With a few solid kicks and swings you were able to disarm and knock out four or five of them, Gerard getting the other 10 of them or so considering his suit and physical ability was greater than yours.

“How many were there again?” You asked him.

“15.” He responded. You looked around, mentally counting the bodies.

“Perfect, 15.” You responded with a sigh. “Do they not know how to scatter?” He shook his head.

A deafening silence filled the car on your way home, the only thing being heard was the soft engine rumbling of the mobile. You were still going to be strong about this whole thing, despite the fact that you wanted it to be over with.

You looked around out of boredom, and down at your suit to see if there was any damage. And, well, there was more than damage. “Well, would you look at that,” You lightly laughed, looking at the left side of your torso where a big slash and blood was seeping through. You hadn’t noticed any pain or anything until you looked down.

“What the fuck?” He asked, looking down to from the road.

“Gee, pay attention to the road.” He reluctantly huffed and put his gaze back there.

“You have a huge fucking slash on your side.” “I know,” You commented, “Oh well, we’ll fix it when we get home.”

You hadn’t noticed his increase in speed or the extra few minutes he cut off as you pulled into the large and modern mansion. Before you could even step out of the car in the garage Gerard had already opened your car door and picked you up, carrying you bridal style.

“You know I can walk.” You lightly laughed, holding on to his arms, “I think it was just a bullet graze.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He placed you down on the couch, “Let me grab the first aid kit.”

He was gone for only a few moments, coming back with the kit in handy, no mask and gloves this time, with no time to remove his armor. It wasn’t a life threatening wound, that’s for sure. “May I?” He asked, motioning to the zipper on the back of your suit. It was so cute to you how he always asked, despite your years of being together. You nodded, moving your hair out of the way.

He took your suit off with ease, helping you step out despite the harsh feeling you got from the slash. Carefully he sat you back down, dabbing your wound with a bit of alcohol and making sure not to directly touch the affected area. There was a certain spot where he had to touch the wound with the cottonball. You couldn’t help but cringe and gasp at the painful feeling, shutting your eyes as it felt like your flesh was burning. “I’m sorry baby.” He commented, squeezing your thigh for support. “You’re doing so great.”

It took him only a few more minutes, and the two of you deciding stitches may be stretching it too far, for you to finally be all bandaged up. You slowly got up, Gerard coming right to you and helping to hold your hips up. “I would suggest a bath but-” “Not a good idea.” You lightly laughed, placing your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” You mumbled.

“No problem.” He responded, kissing the top of your head. “You alright?” You nodded as he picked you up again, taking you to the bedroom to rest.

He placed you lightly on the bed while removing the covers on the side you always slept. You crawled into the open area he had created, placing your wounded body onto the sheets and covering it up. “Do you want some pajamas?” He asked, now removing some of his suit, his unbrushed and tangled black hair fell just below his eyes.

“Yeah, actually,” You lightly smiled, “If you wouldn’t mind. This sports bra is kinda tight.” He nodded, walking into your closet and grabbing some sweatpants, while walking into his own to grab an old t-shirt, knowing those were your favorite things to wear.

He gave them to you, and stood there watching to which you rolled your eyes, “C’mon now, turn around.” You instructed, his eyes went wide with a form of embarrassment, “You don’t get to see my tits, yet.” He sighed, complying with you as you slipped your bra off and shirt on in a few seconds.

You decided against pants, considering that would take a lot of extra effort. So you just pulled the covers over you, sinking back in. “You can turn around now.” And Gerard did, looking at you with the shirt on and residing to his own side of the bed next to you.

You chose a petty play next, completely ignoring him, waiting for an apology. “I’m sorry.” He said, leaning back on the frame of the bed and looking at you. You looked back at him signaling him to do more explaining, “I’m sorry for questioning your loyalty and moral of your work. I know those two things matter to you very much, and I had no right to question either of those.” You took a moment to let the words settle in.

“Thank you,” You responded, “I’m sorry for bringing up the way you work. I know why you do it and I, too, didn’t have the right to do that either.” “Thank you.” He responded, both of you taking sighs of relief as most of the tension alleviated. “I love you.” He told you next. It had taken him a full year to speak those wonderful three words to you, and whenever he said them you always cherished the way they sounded.

“I love you too.” You responded with a small smile, placing your head on his shoulder which he happily complied with.

#gerard way #gerard way x reader #gerard way x you #gerard way x y/n #gerard way fanfiction #mcr gerard #my chemical gerard #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

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2-cute-4-school · 3 years

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨

pairing: Lee Donghyuck x gn!Reader

genre: fluff, a small part of angst but all ends well ;)

word count: 2.4K words

a/n: my part of the christmas collab called ‘The Triangle That Defines Our Existence’, hosted by the lovely, amazing, incredibly talented, the sweetest human being who deserved the entire world @dearncityy (ღˇ◡ˇ)♥, thank you for allowing me to be part of this (੭ु｡╹▿╹｡)੭ु⁾⁾ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵐᶦˢˢ ᵘ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᶦᶠ ᵘ ᵈᵉᶜᶦᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇˡᵒᵍ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗ

my masterlist | event’s masterlist!!!!

You know how souls are connected? How soulmates are created from the stardust of the same explosion, traveling for millions of years through time and space just to end up meeting in the same coffee shop down the road over a spilled latte after living thousands of miles away for their entire lives? How oceans and mountains, galaxies and dimensions, hate and love tear them apart but this small string, thinner than a strand of hair, but stronger than an entire army brings them back together? How fate works?

Do you think snowflakes miss each other? Born from the same cloud, fluffy and blue, the interest of any curious child’s eyes and just the stretch of an arm away, almost like-

“The blue one, please!”

“Can I get the blue?”

The owner of the candy floss shop stared flabbergasted at the pair of you, hands stretched towards him with bills clutched in-between your fingers.

“I’m sorry but it seems like there is only one left and we’re out of blue colorant.”

At the newfound information, the boy beside you turned to you abruptly, cheeks flushed and determined shiny eyes.

“I believe I was here first, so I should be the one to get it.”

“Excuse me but you believe wrong, if anything, I asked for it first.”

You both scoffed in disbelief and carried on arguing as the owner watched with apologetic eyes while a line of equally impatient children accompanied by their parents whined for their own sweet treat.

“So therefore, as I have stated in my previous point of my thesis, I-”

“Move, we’ve been waiting here for 5 minutes already-”

Your new archnemesis turned to the kid behind him who dared interrupt his essay with burning eyes which might have just melted the frozen snot peeking from the child’s nostrils.

“Shut up, you bogey-eater garden dwarf! Learn how to respect your elders! You should- Hey!”

As you could tell the child’s mother’s eyes bulging out of their sockets and the choice of words directed towards her son, you quickly shoved the money in the owner’s hands, grabbed the stick of the blue candy floss with one hand, using the other one to drag the boy away from the commotion he himself caused before he lost an ear to the mom’s fury.

“Hey! Hey, you thief! How dare you-”

“Oh shut that trap for once, better thank me for dragging you away before that mother pulled a Van Gogh on you.”

He dusted himself off once you let go as if filth has touched him and you heavily debated just slamming the entire sticky candy on top of his head, but you decided against it. You worked to hard for it just to waste it on a head that didn’t even deserve it.

“This isn’t over, I still want that candy floss.”

“Let’s just share.”

He looked like he wanted to protest but he most likely couldn’t come with a better idea so he just sighed and shrugged dismissively. You both settled down on a bench on the side of the Christmas-decorated street and didn’t waste a second to dig into the cloud of sweetness.

“So... should I ask for the name of the person I fought tooth and bone for blue candy floss?”

“You want to go back and ask that kid? I’m not sure you’ll get out alive.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow and you both broke into smiles. He turned to look at you and you met his honey filled eyes, colorful lights dancing in them and it seemed like entire galaxies were celebrating the upcoming holiday too.

“Donghyuck. Friends call me Hyuck or Haechan. So you can call me Donghyuck.”

You deadpanned, but it only made him giggle louder. His nose was even more flushed than his cheeks and you couldn’t help but admire the way the rosy pink blended in with the natural tan of his skin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he scrunched his nose mid laugh and you could understand why universes decided to reside in him.

“I hope you choke on candy floss.”

He only laughed harder and if Christmas was a laugh, it would have been Donghyuck’s, pure and hopeful.

“But what is my knight’s in shining armor’s name?”

“It’s Y/N. So you can’t call me. Ever.”

Despite your threatening tone, his smile didn’t lose its brightness. If anything, it shone brighter, lights and colors and happiness playing along his features and you couldn’t help but think that the moles on his face created constellations with the stars in his eyes. You saw art in what others saw as incident.

Donghyuck’s eyes widened as he stared at you, an exaggerated gasp leaving his lips before he exclaimed.

“A snowflake! It’s snowing! It’s snowing on Christmas Eve!”

“What? Where?”

“It’s on your nose!”

Your eyes crossed as you tried to catch sight of the small ounce of snow that settled on the tip of your nose. Donghyuck stared smugly as you turned accusingly and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re making fun of me!”

“I’m not! It really is-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you jumped in your seat.

“Donghyuck, one landed on your nose too! It’s there! It’s really snowing!”

And sure enough, one white traveller after another found their ways down in a whirlwind, waltzing on the last steps to their final destination in the eyes of thousands of admirers.

“Now we have matching snowflakes!”

Donghyuck laughed fondly at your excited tone, watching your enraptured eyes light up like a child’s and he thought that he might have found his Polaris. Right under his nose, he had found the brightest star in his sky.

“Yeah, do you think they were competing for candy floss too?”

“Maybe they confused it with their home. Don’t you think it resembles a cloud in this lighting? Maybe they thought they have found their way back home.” You pondered for a while, before grinning. “Mine won anyway.”

“Pffft, mine must have been confused by yours. How could you confuse candy floss for a cloud?”

You just shrugged, munching on the last bit of the sweet treat.

“Oh, Y/N, how much was it? Let me pay for my half.”

You thrust your phone in his directions, cheeks flushed less from the cold and more from the embarrassment of your next words. Donghyuck watched as you fidgeted in your place, his own expectant excitement building up inside of him as he accepted your phone gingerly.

“The cost is your phone number and a promise to share candy floss again. Only if you want to of course, don’t feel obligated to-”

“Let’s confuse snowflakes again, maybe it’ll snow again. My treat.”

You both smiled so largely your cheeks hurt the entire night.

~~~~

Your snowflakes decided to travel together on that fated day so you and Donghyuck decided to take their example. You stuck together and time didn’t seem to pass in the same way it used to. A year turned into a month, a month into a week, a week into a day and this day into a second. A second spent together. A second you cherished more than entire years. The second Donghyuck decided you put the moon and stars in the sky, or rather the single sparkly star on top of his Christmas tree.

“Stick that fucking star on that branch or I swear it’s either you’re taking a dive into the floor or my back will crack so loud your grandkids feel shivers down their own spine!”

“I’m obviously trying, Donghyuck! The branch is too thick, it won’t fit-”

“That’s what she said- oof!”

You made sure to dig your heel into his ribs hard enough to shut him up.

“Don’t you dare taint this holy evening with your bull!”

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t retort anything and struggled obediently to hold you up for long enough for you to put the finishing touch to his, no, both of yours’ Christmas tree: a silver, shining star.

“I told you it would be easier if we simply used a ladder, but nooo.”

“Where is the romance in that?”

“And where is the romance in me cracking your back and possibly falling on top of this tree?”

Your boyfriend groaned at your smart reply, tapping your thigh impatiently.

“Finally! You can put me down, the asshole has saddled up!”

“Never phrase it like that again please.”

After you were lowered, you both stepped back to admire the piece of art that stole- Donghyuck gasped softly once he took a look at the clock hung on the wall. Four hours?! How could that be possible, it only felt like... a second.

He turned to watch you instead of the overflowing tree, ornated in tinsel and lights. You glowed so much more than any view in this world in Donghyuck’s eyes. His Polaris indeed. No matter how lost he would ever be in life, tangled in his own mind, struggling against his own, one look at his brightest star and he’d find his way back to you through the darkest of nights. He deemed it only right for his guiding star to hang the star on top of your tree as if you hung it in a once starless night once he turned off the lights in the room.

Donghyuck thought that maybe he could live in an eternity in a single day with you.

“Ah, it snowed so much outside. It looks so fluffy, I have to!”

“What, no Y’N, wait!”

Before Donghyuck could even react, you sprung away from him, clumsily slipping on some shoes and running outside in only your sleepwear. Your boyfriend ran after you, gathering your jacket before joining you in the snow. He found you a few steps away from the entrance, crouched before a mound of fresh snow, digging your already reddening hands into it and spreading it around to form drawings and words. He sighed as he laid your jacket over your shoulders and crouched beside you.

“Don’t be so reckless, you’ll catch a cold like this.”

“Look who’s talking” you shot him a pointed look “where’s your own jacket if you’re so worried about colds?”

He spluttered for a moment, realising he forgot his own jacket in his rush to make sure you wouldn’t suffer too much because of the cold.

“I need no jacket. Jackets are for weaklings.”

You rolled your eyes, focusing back on the snow gathered in your hands.

“I feel bad for the snowflakes. They left their home, maybe they were even separated from their loved ones on the way down here. I bet they miss them. But they are trapped here once they landed. If only they would have the chance to fly for a little longer and search for them.”

You threw it in front of you, watching as it spread all around you, floating elegantly in a dance of their own before regaining their place on the spotless white dessert. Donghyuck watched you with curious eyes.

“I feel so bad for them I almost want to take them into my own home and care for them and love them-”

“But they’d melt.”

“Huh?”

“The snowflakes would melt. It’s not the right kind of home for them. Love isn’t always what they need, sometimes it consumes you little by little, it reduces you to nothing.”

“I’d rather melt into nothingness if it meant I felt even a second of pure love.”

‘That’s Y/N for you indeed’ Donghyuck could only shake his head as a small, content smile settled on his face. He scooped a little bit of snow into his cupped palms and brought it close to his lips. You shrieked.

“Don’t eat it! I get it, I won’t bring snow into the house!’“

He laughed so joyfully the shy moon cowered behind clouds at his beauty.

“I’m not planning on eating it, dumbass.”

“Then?”

“I’m wishing upon snowflakes?”

“Maybe we should head inside, maybe you have a fever.”

“Shut up, I’m not delusional. There are no dandelions during winter and snowflakes are our thing anyway, right? So let’s wish upon a snowflake instead of dandelions this time.”

He didn’t wait for you to react before he blew harshly into his palms, sending the small pile of snow flying out of his hands. Donghyuck could only think of a single thing while watching the swirl of the freed snow dancing in the dimly lit street in front of the house.

I wish for you to be my north star, to keep guiding me home to you.

~~~~

But sometimes it gets foggy. And sometimes you lose your way.

Donghyuck stared at his own reflection in the silver globe. He looked anything but Christmas-y. There was no twinkle in his eye, dull orbs gazing back at him almost condescendingly.

He’s always been a spitfire, a follower of his own fate that he made by his own hands. He swore to never let a flame touch, but promises are meant to be broken and his love, too burning hot, consumed you just like warmth consumed the snow. You slipped through his fingers just like snowflakes get separated in the harsh wind.

And Donghyuck was sure that if snowflakes could feel, they would be the most pitiful. A separation so sudden, so forceful, one that leaves you desperate to turn back time even for just a second. To watch them for longer. To hold on tighter.

‘Lee Donghyuck, you dumbass’

He sighs as he lowers the globe, putting it back into the box that would soon go into the basement where it resides for most of the year. One goodbye after another. Undecorating and storing away the once lively Christmas tree felt even more melancholic than usual, because while it meant a ‘see you later’ to the brightness of his house, he might have lost his chance at even saying a proper ‘please let me see you again’ to the brightness of his soul.

He looked up, catching sight of the lonely star sitting atop of the tree, the only decoration left. So far out of reach.

‘Feels so wrong to search for a stool for that after so long. Also feels wrong for me to be the one to take it off. I got too used to you.’

‘Too empty, where are your ridiculous decorations?’

‘Too blank, where are your rainbow vomit Christmas sweaters?’

‘ Too quiet, where are your late carols?’

‘...Where are you?’

Donghyuck had to shake himself out of his zoned out state, looking out the window at the lights still hung around his porch. He should remove those too. He stepped outside, being immediately enveloped by the winter winds blowing around the freshly laid out snow.

‘It snowed a lot this year. Where are your snow-angels?’

Donghyuck touched the scarf wrapped around his neck. The one he searched for for hours just to find it laid around the ‘neck’ of the snowman you both built earlier that day. Despite his scolding, he couldn’t help but think that who needs presents when his biggest blessing is smiling so purely right in front of him?

‘Are you building snowmen away from me now? Are you using someone else’s scarf now?’

His face contorted into a grimace. He grabbed two fistfuls of fresh snow, throwing them into the wind, watching them meddle amongst themselves

‘You talked all that shit about giving them a second chance to find their loved ones after a storm, to find their soulmates once again. So where are you?’

‘Why don’t you give me another chance to find you too?’

Donghyuck watched helplessly as the snow settled down once again. What if soulmates get lost forever? What if they don’t meet again? He crouched in the middle of the alley to his house. The same one you walked on and away from him.

A lonely snowflake landed on his hand, as if to prove Donghyuck a point. He couldn’t help but chuckle sarcastically, pain lacing his usually bright tone.

‘Are you feeling it too, buddy? Are you alone too?’

‘How about you, my love? Where are you, Y/N?’

Another snowflake slowly descended right by the one already settled on his hand. Destined together, by the hands of fate, by each other’s hand, by time itself.

‘Ah, found your soulmate, have you?’

‘Where has mine gone?’

A crunch resonated in Donghyuck’s ears, right in front of him. So close.

“Sorry for the wait.”

His head snapped up. Did heartbreak cause illusions? Did desperation cause hearings? No, while his brain took its time comprehending, his heart knew instantly. It recognized its owner.

“It got confused and a little scared on the way here, but it finally found its way back home.”

You were home. At home in his arms, nestled in his embrace, face buried in his chest, right above his erratic heartbeat.

“You know, late comers have to pay for the wasted time.”

“Oh, is that so? How much is it?”

“Just a lifetime spent together.”

Donghyuck’s eyes sparkled again.

~~~~

You still haven’t decided what takes the crown as the best replica of the fluffy clouds traveling lazily across the sky. You stick another piece of baby blue cotton candy in your own mouth while internally debating between the two choices. The floss of sweetness you had the luxury to eat at the moment or-

A whine interrupted you. Your head snapped to the side just to meet a pair of puppy eyes staring back at you, waiting for acknowledgement.

“Hyuckie too~”

“Maybe Hyuckie should have bought his own then.”

Despite your seemingly annoyed retort and the roll of your eyes, you still offered him a piece of cotton candy, one that he didn’t hesitate to snatch right from your hand the moment it was presented in front of his lips.

You stared adoringly at your boyfriend as he munched satisfied on the sweet and you could barely suppress the need to run your fingers through his soft locks, bury your hand into your own warm, lavender-smelling cloud.

“I’m getting flashbacks from our first meeting.”

You snapped out of your haze, redirecting your attention to Donghyuck’s words.

“Huh?”

“It’s the same bench. When you stole my cotton candy and then offered to share it with me oh so kindly-”

“I paid for it! And saved you too for the sake of it!”

“And then trapped me with you in order to repay you.”

You slapped his arm, watching fondly as he dissolved in a fit of giggles. You both knew he didn’t mean it, he spent countless hours thanking the world and you for bringing you two together and allowing him happiness. You sighed a bit melancholic, only just realising that he was right, this was the same bench you ate your first candy floss together. Same place, same people, same surroundings, different circumstances.

“It feels like an eternity ago.”

“And at the same times it feels like only yesterday.”

A beat of silence passed before Donghyuck spoke again, quieter, more careful, almost timidly.

“I’m scared too sometimes.”

You leaned into him, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder. He brought the hand that wasn’t holding your waist already up to your face, cupping your cheek delicately and caressing it with his thumb. His snowflake finally had a soulmate.

“Why?”

He bumped his nose against yours, leaning his forehead against yours. He had you, under his fingertips, breaths mingled, hearts beating together.

“What if it’s over before we realise?”

You hummed softly, your lips brushing against his as you murmured your next words, a secret shared between lovers

“Doesn’t matter. Time is nothing with you, an irrelevant notion meant to hurry us when all we want to do is linger a second more. For you and me, there’s no end and no beginning.”

And sure enough, here you were. Two snowflakes, vulnerable and in passing, sharing a cloud and a timeless bond.

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lovelessdagger · 3 years

Text

Starlight - Prologue: Before

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Trauma

Words: 2000

Summary: What's past is prologue.

There's a new trend since the fall of the Empire, everyone is rising from the dead.

She's haunted by memories of the Empire that abandoned her, he's plagued with thoughts of what if and doubts of the future. The stars align in a string of constellations which guide them to their fates, decided long before them.

Tortured with echos of before, they're alone in an endless galaxy. But orphans have a funny way of finding each other, and the gods have a sick sense of humor.

Read on AO3 Here

Tatooine was the galaxy’s own personal hell, Mustafar at least had the pleasure of fauna. Demonic nightmarish fauna that was more than likely poisonous, but fauna nonetheless. Tatooine? Tatooine was a barren wasteland that had gone to the dogs, and even the dogs had decided they wanted no part in its misfortune. At least on Mustafar she could go inside and be relieved of the heat, at least Mustafar could be considered home.

Or at least it used to be, before.

“Maker,” An assassin mutters, crossing over a sand dune. The red tracking fob in her gloved hand sounds, it’s light flashing a similar color. To her relief, she was close. The sooner to the target, the sooner she could leave and never set foot on sand again.

She could count the total number of visits to Tatooine in her lifetime on one hand. The first she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, then again at an older age to meet with the Hutts. Nine years ago, her father had sent her on a reconnaissance mission to some abandoned moisture farm. It had been terribly boring, full of memories of family dinners and old beaten up droids.

The irony that that very mission essentially caused her to lose everything wasn’t lost on her.

Five years ago she sat in the very cantina she walks to, warned to run away. A mere twenty-one years old—give or take, her birthday after all was a random day chosen by her and the waking sun. There was no telling her true age, so with her knowledge of human anatomy and development, nine years ago she decided on being seventeen.

“Why seventeen?” He asks her. Entering hyperspace she sits behind him, tracing passing stars on the window.

“Because,” she begins matter-of-factly, “Seventeen is a completely insignificant year to be alive. Sixteen is old enough that I won’t be questioned for traveling alone, but still too young to be taken seriously. I’m not quite ready to be an adult yet, but next cycle I will be. So I am seventeen now, so that I may be prepared to be eighteen later.”

Eighteen hours later, the first Death Star exploded.

The events which follow guide her on a fragile string of stars throughout the galaxy, the culmination of which lead her back to hell. Or Tatooine, as the New Republic liked to call it.

Maybe if she had listened things would have been different.

Or maybe they would be worse.

Either way she would be here. The designer of her cruel fate and dictator of her misery have decided this long ago. Forever would she be trapped in hell with her memories.

And everyone else’s.

Condemned to relive the worst of what humanity had to offer, over, and over, and over again. It wasn’t so bad anymore, it’s easy to get numb to that sort of thing when your entire life was filled with it. Still, out of all the places in the galaxy, why did it have to be Tatooine?

She could understand the appeal for those on the run. Away from the New Republic’s oversight, moisture farms as the only viable landmark, and everyone being too overworked to give a damn. Theoretically it should have been easy to hide, the only issue was every criminal in the Outer Rim had the same idea. Originality be damned.

A detached hood and mask shield her identity, not that she believed anything with a penchant of life would be anywhere near. All that surrounded her was sand, rocks, and sand. Still, she could never be overly cautious. Walking up to the cantina, her eyes roll. It was like they wanted to make her job difficult. She could only assume the bar would be crawling with other criminals. Defected imperials, thieves, murderers.

It could have been a family reunion.

Eyes fall on her entrance, the suns backlight her into a silhouette. She becomes the one cascade of darkness in the light of the desert.

“Boys,” she greets, walking in. Her eyes scan the room, there couldn’t be more than ten men. She counts the passing of ten seconds before one approaches her. Within those seconds her mind remarks on the state of the bar, essentially unchanged. Same busted chairs, same creaking floors, same hideous decorations.

“What’s someone like you doing here?” a man grunts, stalking up to her. The most she does to acknowledge him is an eye roll. He grabs her arm, holding her in place. “Does your daddy know you’re out here?” he asks, leaning down to her ear.

She mocks a laugh. “Does yours?”

The man spits at her boots. “Bitch,” he says, walking away from her. His spit slowly rolls off her toe, leaving a glimmering streak along the leather in its wake. She pulls her blaster out, pointing the gun behind her, she shoots the man in the back of the head. He drops, his body heavy with a thud.

The cantina falls to silence. Nine bodies are now watching her. No one makes a move, even the bartender stops his clinking glasses. She’s almost inviting them to try her next.

“No?” She asks, holstering her gun. “Pity,” she mutters.

She walks up to body number seven, he sits in the same spot she had all those years ago. She places her soiled boot on his seat, grabbing his attention. Motioning for him to stand, she barely makes eye contact.

Her fingers run across the tables’ wood, rubbing over permanent stains and rotting cracks.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says. He always worried too much about her, “Whatever he’s planning, you won’t come out of it.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says. “I can take care of myself now.”

“I know. That’s what scares me. You’re not safe anymore,” he replies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been safe.”

Seven stares at her incredulously, slurping his liquor.

“Come with me,” his voice echos around her. If she closes her eyes it’s like he’s still sitting in front of her. Pleading.

“I don’t like making messes inside, it’s bad manners,” she says, reaching for her blaster. “Get up.”

“Am I supposed to be scared, girl?” Seven asks. He scans her appearance and truth be told she was no Rancor, certainly no Hutt. While her build was athletic, her height physically left her the smallest in the room.

“You owe a lot of credits—” Seven stands, “—That’s better.” She drops her foot. “Now—“

“Step aside,” a modulated voice speaks behind her. She catches a reflection of the intruder in the glass of the framed artwork above Seven’s head. A Mandalorian, covered in pure Beskar, stands a whole head above her. Of course a fucking Mandalorian would show up right now, this had to be his doing. Even in the grave he had to fuck with her.

“Mando,” Seven laughs, he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I was uh, I was just talking to the missus here,” he grabs the girls shoulder. “Say, now’s not really a good time so how about we—“

“I don’t have time for this,” the Mandalorian says. He drops a bounty puck on the table, in blue holograms Seven’s profile appears.

WANTED: EDI MOURI

“Let’s go,” Mando says.

The girl shakes herself from Seven. “Listen Shiny, I was here first so move along.” The Mandalorian’s head tilts.

“Are you with the guild?” He asks.

She picks up the bounty puck, examining the emblem. “Not yours.”

Mando’s head turns to One’s fallen body on the ground, a growing pool of blood by his head.

“Your work?”

“You could say that.”

Seven clears his throat. Whispers of bets trail within the crowd. “In fairness. She did find me first.”

The pair are incredulous in their stare. “You want to go with the assassin?” Mando asks, a slight twinge of amusement escapes past his modulator.

Seven’s face turns to ice, his deep emerald skin becoming a pastel like hue. “On second thought. I always loved the Mandalorian stories I heard as a kid, I’m a big fan. Let’s go big guy.” He takes a step towards Mando, the assassin pulls out her blaster, pointing it to his head. At the same moment Mando pulls out his own, pointing it to her.

“Drop it,” he says. “I need him alive.”

She cocks her head to the side, pressing her forehead against the barrel of the gun. “Do it,” she purrs.

He’s motionless.

She grabs the Mandalorian’s wrist with one hand, striking the bend in his arm with the other. A blaster shot fires, Three falls to the ground with a hole in his head.

Mando lifts her by her neck and slams her into the table where Seven sits. Her vision flashes white and she groans on impact. Her hands fumble across the wood in frantic search of anything to defend herself with.

“Wait for me, I’ll come for you in two days.”

She smashes Seven’s plate against the table, shattering it. With a jagged edge of porcelain she slashes the Mandalorian’s arm, staining the edge with his red blood. In his stumble back she rolls off the table.

Harsh stabs are swung to the openings between the pieces of armor, he easily blocks but her movements are quick in succession. He ignites the flamethrower on his arm and she flips out of range.

Six isn’t so lucky.

She lands on his table, he’s charred and slumped over. She grabs a baton resting against his chair, cringing at its touch. Jumping of the table she strikes his helmet. The tune of impact horrifically melodic.

Brought to his knees, Mando grabs her leg sweeping her onto her back. The baton falls out of her grasp. They tumble on the ground, scathing for any advantage they could find on the other. She slaps a taser disk on his armor, the shocks malfunction the electronics.

The Mandalorian lays on the ground, emitting heavy gasps for air. Sounds of passing credits come from a back table. She straddles him, pulling out the knife kept in the welt of her sleeve. It’s metal presses against his capes fabric gathered around his neck.

A smile twinges under her mask. “Not bad,” she pants, leaning down over him.

The cantina doors automate open, in perfect eye-line, a green little creature. It waddles in, cooing with bright eyes at the patrons, greeting them all. It locks eyes with her, head tilted. The veil of her mask conceals her dropped jaw.

The Mandalorian takes the chance of her distraction; flipping their bodies over, he straddles her waist, pinning her hands above her head. The assassin’s chest rises and falls heavy from under him. “I told you to wait outside,” he grunts. The green thing coos, waddling to the pair. It reaches out for her. “No,” he says next, raising a scolding finger to it. It whines, plopping on its rear.

Past the visor, his eyes lock onto hers, he clears his throat. Suggestive positioning aside, he had claim to victory. Though, had it not been for the child he would have been a dead man, throat slit under her knife.

He could still kill her, his blaster was in reach, so was her knife.

He should kill her.

But he doesn’t.

“Hey Mandalorian,” she breathes. “Where’s your bounty?” Seven’s seat empty, table broken, shattered porcelain fallen on the floor.

“Fuck,” he swears. He stands, pocketing the knife she held. He picks up the creature, sparing her one last glance. “Stay out of my way,” he warns. Exiting the building she’s left on the floor.

The surviving witnesses avoid her glare. There are holes in the flooring, broken furniture, blood stains splattered on every surface.

So much for not making a mess indoors.

She scoffs, picking herself up. Her muscles ache, bruises are forming under her clothing, her head pounds.

Carelessly, she shoots Five on her way out.

It’s a redemption of sorts.

Officially, Tatooine was worse than hell.

Chapter One: The Meeting

#Mandalorian #the mandalorian #Din Djarin #din djarin x original character #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x oc #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #Starlight #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x oc #mando x ofc #mando x original character #mando x original female character #din djarin x female oc

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Weird, “Chain Song.”

This one might be a bit cheesy, but I was feeling something feel good this morning. I hope you guys like it.

The Commander said it was the furthest human colony away from earth, and in fact, it was the furthest colony away from any sort of civilized society as far as anyone knew. The people who lived here had volunteered for the job and had been sent by the UN to pay of debts, prison sentences, or simply as a way to avoid homelessness. And now their job was to mine the asteroid fields for precious metals , usually by hand as spare equipment was hard to find and was rarely sent this far out in the system.

Commander Vir explained that their colony was technically outside the reach of GA control and was actually positioned in unclaimed airspace as far as anyone knew.

IN essence, these people were alone in the universe as far away from anything as anyone might be, and only receiving supplies once or twice a year.

The planet on which they lived wasn’t really a planet at all, but an exoplanet about the size of pluto, which they were steadily mining for it’s precious metals to be sent back to earth.

At that moment the Harbinger cargo bay held all the equipment these people would need to make the components to complicated mechanical devices including computers implanted electronics and projection screens for military installations.

They took a wide turn through the asteroid field, where, they could already, occasionally see small mining cycles with one or two riders floating on the back, one working to mine the metal and another working to make sure they did not float away from their post. Their ship was barely noticed as they passed by, except for when they got close enough for their shadow to fall over the working figures.

They crested over another large asteroid, in a surprisingly tight belt and came across the small exoplanet around which much of the debris circled. It was nothing special at first, smaller than the moon would have been back on earth, but a closer look at its rocky, dust-covered surface showed evidence of sustained human life: metal towers, footprints, vehicle tracks, and more branching outward across the entirety of the minuscule exoplanet.

On the bridge most of the crew was thinking the same thing. As the docking bay of the little planet came into view-- welded together by way of thousands of scraps of metal into an amalgamated monstrosity of a construction-- all of them shivered at the thought of living in such a desolate place. Commander Vir, while thinking the build was cool and well worthy of best-selling science fiction novel or action movie, found the place more than a little depressing to look at, as there were no stars nearby to light the dark little planet.

There was simply the space around and the human made lights which lit the docking bay surface.

Dr. krill was under the impression that the entire thing needed to be scraped and burned, so they could start over. He could not imagine how many deaths and injuries had been sustained creating this place.

Sunny had no real opinion, though her brother Cannon couldn’t help but find a strange and melancholy beauty about the place, as it was, somehow a statement of survival, and a symbol of hope to him rather than a demonstration of sadness.

The commander pulled up to gently maneuver their ship into place in the docking bay, which had slowly opened for them. Even the door to the docking bay looked as if it had been patched together like the most patchwork of quilts. On the outside of the docking bay figures in antiquated space suits: bulky and difficult to maneuver waved at them from the platform.

The door behind them closed, the sharp metal silent in space until the exact moment where the interior was pressurized. Commander Vir unbuckled his seat and ordered a small team to follow him as the dock workers secured their ship into place.

Stepping out into the musty air was a strange experience.

The docking bay echoed with voices and metal clanged constantly against itself.

The floor below them, the ceiling above them, and all around the ground and walls were made out of a patchwork of material. Rusted street signs, and caution signs were pinned up against the walls as in decoration.

Graffiti stained the metal with bright colors in pinks and faded yellow.

Small lights whirled overhead, dim and fading towards their last breath.

He was just beginning to think of how depressing it must be to live in a place like this when a figure approached them from the back their arms wide. They all blinked in surprise as the smiling figure burst into peals of delighted laughter and enfolded the commander in a full contact bear hug.

The man was at least two inches taller than the commander and had muscled arms that were about as big as the other man’s head. His teeth shone white against his dark skin and his wide, honest eyes. His dark hair was braided back into long plates that hung down to his lower back.

He pulled out of the hug and then kissed the commander on either cheek leaving him standing stunned and confused as he moved onto the rest of the party. He did the same for everyone alien or otherwise despite having no idea who he was.

Then he stepped back to stand before them.

The commander frowned in confusion, looking the other man over.

His garb was…. Rather unexpected for a place like this. His shirt was sleeveless, but the shirt he wore had been dyed a bright yellow and was drawn about with patterns and stained with dust. His pants were a bright green and tied with ribbons made in red from the top of the leg down to the lower knee. And then there was the metal, Just like the walls and floors it looked like it had been welded together using scrap pieces for parts, and he wore it like armor on his chest, and on his exposed arms like some sort of armor, though it looked more decorative than anything else.

He raised his hands out wide to either side, “I am station master Jicari and welcome, to the Paxicar mining colony.” His voice was deep and melodious resonating with a kind of accent that none of the could quite place. The smile never left the man’s face, “we are pleased to see outsiders, we don’t get many visitors.”

Looking around the room, they could see other figures going about their work. These figures too were brightly colored, and decorated in scrapped metal.

They waved enthusiastically at the newcomers.

Commander Vir scratched his head in surprise.

“Please, we will unload your cargo, and I will show you to our lovely home.”

The group glanced between each other not entirely sure if lovely was the right word for it. Krill was definitely thinking tetanus, but the captain shrugged. He liked this man already and his strange clothing.

He waved them forward with a smile that never faltered, and together they clopped over the metal flooring and up a set of stairs where neon signs hung on the wall flickering slightly with disrepair.

They passed more men and women in the hallway all of them still dress in bright colors and decorated in metal. One woman wore a headdress that encased her ponytails in rings of metal all the way down her back. Another man wore a helmet that had delicate patterns of silver crawling down his cheek and around one eye.

And everywhere they went the people smiled at them.

Happy laughter echoed from the tunnels to their right and left.

At one point a group of children raced past the down the tunnel giggling and laughing bright rainbow colors flapping behind them in the darkness of the tunnel.

The spaces were not so cramped as they thought it might be and none of them felt claustrophobic walking down the hallway despite its low ceiling, exposed wires, and piping.

A dim blue glow emanated from the distant end of the hallway giving the metal interior a sort of atmospheric haze.

Commander Vir thought he could hear the sound of rushing water.

“I…. Forgive me for sounding ignorant Mr. Jicari.”

“Just jicari will do.”

“Very well…. Then , lie I said, I don’t mean to sound insulting or anything but…. Your people they seem so…. Happy, and colorful. I haven't seen anything like it, not on earth, or Mars or anywhere else in the galaxy, and…. Well.”

His booming laugh echoed down the hall, “And you are wondering how a group of metal miners taken from prisons, and off the streets could find more happiness than those who still live on earth?”

He frowned a bit, “I was going to be more delicate about it, but yes.”

He continued to smile, “Because we have nothing.”

Commander vir frowned, “I’m confused.”

The man patted him on the back, “Of course you are.” The man patted him on the back, “You must understand, Adam that when we came here we had nothing, we had the clothes on our backs and the strength of our hands. Back on earth you can go and you can get rich and you can buy things. But the secret about things is that they do not make you happy. You think that getting a new car can make you happy, that going on exotic vacations can make you happy, well that is not the case because after a while you get used to that new car and soon enough exotic locations are commonplace. You will never be happy unless you find that happiness inside. Happiness is a decision we here have chosen.”

He glanced back at the small group that trailed behind him and smiled, “We are happy because we have nothing, and nothing forced us to look inwards at ourselves. The people who are not happy are not forced into it. They may do what they wish, but it is much better to be happy than it is to wallow in misery for our circumstances.”

The Commander nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure it was that simple, but he was willing to listen.

“And because we did not dwell on how miserable we could be, we made something beautiful, we tried to create with our hands, brighten our days with colors, and smiles, and laughter and stories. We created a culture of happiness.”

They continued to glance at each other, but as they were passed by in the hallways more hands waved at them and more smile were exchanged.

Jicari paused turning to look at them with his deep black eyes lined in wrinkles, “You are about to see the gem of the asteroid belt, something no outsider has ever seen before because they don’t bother to visit our “sad little mining colony.”

He stepped forward motioning them to follow.

And.they did as told stopping in their tracks eyes wide at the massive cavern that stood before them. What rose up before them was a beautiful city, not conventionally beautiful like it was made from white marble, but beautiful and strange in its construction. Gravity mats had been placed about the curvature of the inside of the exo planet allowing the city to climb the walls in a slow parabola upward. The buildings themselves were multi-leveled rising up into the darkness and lit from inside with a thousand little lights. Open cables and wires spilled down from the top of the buildings hanging downwards towards the streets.

The street itself was a walkway on two sides with a canal going down the middle. And the water there was crystal clear and lined with a strange green moss. Neon light lit the cavern with a hazy blue and pink lighting the people and their colorful garments from all sides.

The water sparkled with the pink and blue light as if it had been sprinkled with fairy dust.

Machinery melded with metal and was occasionally covered in delicate green climbing moss.

The people were not idle. Sparks flew from their hands as they worked to repair the buildings, some on the bottom floor and others high in the air. The sound of mallets and chisels rattled through the cavern.

A few people stood on metal rafts that slowly drifted down the length of the river.

And as always that purple blue haze backed everything lit form inside with that light pink, yellow and blue light.

They were walked through the city listening to the rhythmic clatter of tools, and the soft murmur of voices. The city had looked very small from the outside, but perhaps that was just their perception of how small the exo planet was. In reality the interior was quite large though it was not one hundredth of the interior.

Reaching the edge of the city, they could look upwards and see thousands of feet of open rock face being chiseled away by hand using pick axes and drills. Many of these people were held in place on wires or stood precariously on the edge of ledges without anything to hold the in place.

The group of them craned their necks back staring up at the massive walls of stone and a thousand lights that crawled across it reaching up into the darkness finally to be obscured by the blue haze.

“Its…. beautiful.” The commander was surprised at himself for saying it, but it really was true..

Jicari smiled, “it is beautiful, yes.”

He motioned them to follow, and they continued to do so winding up a few short switchbacks towards the base of the wall. Moss grew on either side of them adding a greeness to a place that shouldn’t have been green

They were close to the wall of stone now able to see the workers and hear the clattering of their pick axes as they continually worked the stone . Sometimes they worked alone, and at other times they worked in teams of two, one person holding a chisel while the other used a mallet to beat herder into cracks within the stone.

Jicari turned to look at them and put a finger over his lips.

The group tilted their heads in surprise.

Then Jicari began to whistle.

The tune that he began had an immediate rhythm sharp and piercing enough to carry itself on echoes upwards to many of the workers at once. Krill grew woozy and had to steady himself against Cannon’s open arm as it began.

As soon as the whistling began there was a sudden dynamic change in the sound and movement of the workers. A short pause and then a clatter as all the pick axes and mallets hit at once following the beat set out by Jicari’s whistling. What had once been a clattering amalgamation of noise now turned itself into a steady pounding rhythm.

They listened in awe as the beat spread upwards as all the waiting humans latched on to the beat allowing their work to be the base for the music.

Jicari’s whistling continued, and voices followed soon after humming along with him at a steady pace to match the rhythm of their song.

Krill was having a tough time staying awake

The Drev and humans were having a tough time not humming along.

“Join us.” Jicari said, “Understand why we are happy here.” he motioned them forward, and the commander was the first to follow, interested.

And like humans do they began to match the song of the other humans humming along with the rhythm as Jicari lead them over to the wall.

They were met by a group of other miners who smiled openly and handed over pick axes to the newcomers still humming as they did.

“For some reason, I get the feeling you are getting free labor off us.” The commander teased quietly.”

Jicari just grinned, “Perhaps, but you might find you get something out of it too.”

The commander took the pick axe resting it against his leg as he pulled of his jacket and then his shirt. The marines followed his lead, and even the Drev were invited to join.

Krill floated next to Jicari half in and half out of consciousness. Jicar gently set him on the ground before walking over to join the newcomers.

The group of humans and Drev waited with their tools in hand for Jicari’s lead.

He lifted the pick axe and brought it down on one of the down beats, and then he began to sing. The beat was slow and steady carried by the thunder of axes against stone and the shedding of sparks. The rhythm had spread itself all the way up the wall until the entire cavern was echoing with the beat.

Each beat allowed for the worker to swing back and build up enough momentum for the next hit.

Slowly the new humans followed the example of the others, until, just like that they were following the same beat pattern. Their bodies swaying back and forth almost as if they were dancing. It took the Drev a bit longer, but soon enough they were one with the wall of humans.

Jicari’s voice was deep and powerful reverberating up the stone and down the line to the next human who took up the song with him. Her voice rung like a clear bell locking the beat into place as, one by one, other voices joined the song.

At first, it was a melancholy song about the stone and the axes, and the people who carried them, but as more voices joined in the sadness was replaced as hope took over weaving itself in through the music as an entire human population worked as one. They sung about their home, about their families returning to a chorus of stone and hope that didn't mind death so much, or the blackness, or the void separated from them by walls of stone.

It wasn’t long before the new humans understood the chorus and began to sing along with the workers sweat slicking their backs though they never dropped beat for a moment. Even the Drev continued to hum along, their powerful base voices lending a power behind Jicari’s words as they all continued to sing.

From where he sat half conscious Krill could see the humans as they swayed back and forth swinging the pick axes in slow under hand arches to gain the momentum they would need. And then came the powerful overhand throw that tighten the muscles of the back and sent rivulets of sweat dripping down onto stone. Muscles flexed fighting against the stone returning the force.

He couldn’t say how long they kept that up, thought it seemed longer than it should have been a somehow the song lent energy to arms that should have failed, Still when the songs finally died away some time later, they backed away from the wall panting their shoulders heaving as sweat dropped down their faces.

Commander Vir leaned against the axe wiping sweat from his hairline.

Jicari shouldered his axe, “Did you know that when humans sing their heart beats synchronize?”

“Really? I didn’t know that?”

Jicari smiled, “yes, and that is why we are so happy commander. This chain song helps us keep time while we work. It goes back to the traditions of many who came before us, laborers who worked on the trains, and slaves who worked in the fields, and builders who came before them, singing to keep in time for work but also to build hope.”

He believed him, it was easy to see why, and that is why they stayed on the colony for a few days working alongside the people. The commander wanted them to feel what they had felt on that first day wanted to figure out how to bring it aboard the ship.

Cannon was the first to figure it out, secretly secluding himself where he could listen slowly writing with inspiration from the music.

When they were getting ready to leave he handed his work to the commander, who seemed surprised but pleased and sent the image of his work on with a message.

Jicari stood next to the commander and slide waving as the other humans slowly drifted on to the ship for departure.

Cannon began to hum.

Jicari turned in surprise, and it was the Commander’s turn to whistle, the clear tones ringing through the docking bay and into the cargo hanger. He was the first to pick up the tune followed by Ramirez and some of the other marines.

Jicari beamed wide and hummed along with them as this new song filled his docking bay, one about flying into the unknown, surrounded by dangers, into the blackest void, but being happy about it because they were those whose hearts couldn’t stay in one place too long.

As they stepped onto the ship, He could hear the echo of voices rising up, as it slowly spread through the hallways, up onto the bridge, and down into engineering, until the entire ship was connected by a chain of voices, somehow all together despite being so far apart.

Jicari waved them off doing his best to remember the lyrics to the Harbinger’s song, so he could sing it to his people later.

And hat was how cannon became the first known Drev to compose a song. A song that took its roots from the chain songs of exhausted human laborers thousands of ears in the future, looking for hope, but secretly made with the idea of Drev training combat in mind.

The song would be used on the harbinger for both, to bolster productivity, moral, and for the Drev to keep time during training fights.

All a lesson learned from Paxicar, the happiest place in the universe.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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